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INVASION Robin Cook [09 apr 2002—scanned for #bookz] [12 apr 2002—proofed by Cress] [17 apr 2002—released as v1] PROLOGUE In the frigid vastness of interstellar space a pin-point of matter-antimatter fluctuated from the void, creating an intense flash of electromagnetic radiation. To the human retina, the phenomena would have appeared as the sudden emergence and expansion of a blip of colors representing the full spectrum of visual light. Of course, the gamma rays, the X rays, and even the infrared and radio waves would not have been visible to a human's limited vision. Simultaneous with the burst of colors, the human witness would have seen the emergence of an astronomical number of atoms in the form of a rotating, black disciform concretion. The phenomenon would have appeared like a video run in reverse of the object falling into a crystalline pool of fluid whose ripples were the warping of space and time. Still traveling at nearly the speed of light, the huge number of coalesced atoms rocketed into the distant reaches of the solar system, streaking past the orbits of the bloated outer gaseous planets of Neptune, Uranus, Saturn, and Jupiter. By the time the concretion reached the orbit of Mars its rotation and velocity had slowed significantly. The object could now be seen for what it was: an inter-galactic spaceship whose gleaming outer surface looked like highly polished onyx. The only deformity of its disc-form shape was a series of bulges along the top surface of its outer edge. The contours of each of these bulges mirrored the silhouette of the massive mother ship. There were no other distortions of the outer skin: no portholes or exhaust vents or antennae. There weren't even any structural seams. Streaking into the outer fringes of the earth's atmosphere, the outside temperature of the space ship soared. A burning tail appeared to light up the night sky behind the ship as the heat-excited atmospheric atoms gave off photons in protest. The ship continued to slow both in terms of rotation and velocity. Far below, the twinkling lights of an unsuspecting city appeared. The preprogrammed ship ignored the lights; it was by luck that the impact occurred in a rocky, boulder-strewn, arid landscape. Despite the relatively slow speed it was more of a controlled crash than a landing, sending rock, sand, and dust billowing into the air. When the craft finally came to a stop, it was half buried in earth. Debris sent skyward in the impact rained down on its polished topside. After the surface temperature had fallen below two hundred degrees centigrade, a vertical slitlike opening appeared along the ship's outer edge. It was not like a mechanical door. It was as if the molecules themselves worked in concert to create the penetration of the ship's seamless exterior. Vapor escaped through the slit, evidence that the interior of the craft was deep-space frigid. Inside, banks of computers busily ran automatic sequences. Samples of the earth's atmosphere and soil were hauled inside to be analyzed. These automated procedures functioned as planned, including the isolation of prokaryotic life forms (bacteria) from the dirt. Analysis of all the samples, including the DNA contained therein, confirmed that the proper destination had been reached. The arming sequence was then initiated. Meanwhile, an antenna was extended up into the night sky to prepare for quasar frequency transmission to announce that Magnum had arrived. 1 10:15 P.M. "Hey, hello!" Candee Taylor said as she tapped Jonathan Sellers on the shoulder. At the moment Jonathan was busily kissing her neck. "Earth to Jonathan, come in please!" Candee added while she began rapping on Jonathan's head with her knuckles. Both Candee and Jonathan were seventeen and juniors at Anna C. Scott High School. Jonathan had recently gotten his driver's license, and although he was not yet permitted to use the family car, he'd been able to borrow Tim Appleton's VW. Despite it being a school night, Candee and Jonathan had managed to sneak out and drive up to the bluff overlooking the city. Each had eagerly anticipated this first visit to the school's favorite "lover's lane." To help set the mood, as if they'd needed any help, the radio was tuned to KNGA, home of nonstop top forty hits. "What's the matter?" Jonathan questioned while probing the tender spot on the top of his head. Candee had had to hit him pretty hard to divert his attention. Jonathan was tall for his age and thin. His adolescent growth spurt had been all vertical, much to his basketball coach's delight. "I wanted you to see the shooting star." As a gymnast, Candee was significantly more physically developed than Jonathan. Her body was the source of the admiration of the boys and the envy of the girls. She could have dated almost anyone, but she chose Jonathan because of a combination of his cuddly good looks and his interest in and abilities with computers. Computers happened to be one of her interests as well. "So what's the big deal about a shooting star?" Jonathan whined. He glanced up at the stars but quickly returned his gaze to Candee. He couldn't be sure of it, but he thought that one of the buttons of her blouse that had been buttoned when they'd arrived was now mysteriously unbuttoned. "It went all the way across the sky," Candee said. She traced her index finger across the windshield for emphasis. "It was awesome!" In the half-light of the car's interior, Jonathan could just make out the imperceptible rise and fall of Candee's breasts with her breathing. He found that more awesome than any stars. He was about to lean over and try to kiss her when the radio seemingly self-destructed. First the volume jumped to an ear-splitting level, followed instantly by a loud popping and hissing noise. Sparks leaped out of the dashboard and smoke billowed up. "Shit!" Jonathan and Candee screeched in unison as they reflexively tried to push themselves away from the sparking receiver. Both leaped from the car. From the safety of the exterior they peered back inside, half expecting to see flames. Instead the sparking stopped as abruptly as it had started. Straightening up, they eyed each other across the top of the car. "What the hell am I going to tell Tim?" Jonathan moaned. "Look at the antenna!" Candee said. Even in the darkness Jonathan could see that its tip was blackened. Candee reached out and touched it. "Ouch!" she exclaimed. "It's hot." Hearing a babble of voices, Jonathan and Candee looked around them. Other kids had gotten out of their cars as well. A pall of acrid smoke hung over the scene. Every radio that had been on, whether playing rap music, rock, or classical, had blown its fuse. At least that's what everybody was saying. 10:15 P.M. Dr. Sheila Miller lived in one of the city's few residential high-rises. She liked the view, the breezes from the desert, and the proximity to the University Medical Center. Of the three, the last was the most important. At age thirty-five, she felt as if she'd been through two lives. She married early in college to a fellow premed student. They'd had so much in common. Both thought that medicine was to be their consuming interest and that they should share the dream. Unfortunately, reality had been brutally unromantic because of their arduous schedules. Still, their relationship might have survived if George hadn't had the irritating idea that his career as a surgeon was more valuable than Sheila's path, first in internal medicine and then in emergency medicine. As far as domestic responsibility was concerned, it had all fallen on her shoulders. George's undiscussed decision to accept a two-year fellowship in New York had been the straw that broke the camel's back. The idea that George expected her to follow him to New York when she'd recently accepted the position of head of the University Medical Center emergency department showed Sheila how mismatched they were. What romance had once been between them had long since evaporated, so with little argument and no passion they divided up their collection of CDs and back issues of medical journals and went their separate ways. As far as Sheila was concerned, the only legacy was a mild bitterness about assumed male prerogatives. On that particular night like most nights Sheila was busy reading her unending pile of medical journals. At the same time she was taping a TV presentation of an old movie classic with the idea of watching it over the weekend. Consequently her apartment was quiet save for the occasional tinkle of her wind chimes on her patio. Sheila did not see the shooting star that Candee saw, but at the same moment Candee and Jonathan were startled by the destruction of Tim's car radio, Sheila was equally shocked by a somewhat similar catastrophe with her VCR. Suddenly it began to spark and whir as if it were about to launch into orbit. Startled from the depths of concentration, Sheila still had the presence of mind to yank out the power cord. Unfortunately that maneuver had little effect. It wasn't until she disengaged the cable line that the machine fell silent although it continued to smoke. Gingerly Sheila felt the top of the console. It was warm to the touch but certainly not about to catch fire. Silently cursing, Sheila went back to her reading. She vaguely toyed with the idea of bringing the VCR to the hospital the following day to see if one of the electronic technicians could fix it. She justified the idea with her busy schedule. There was no way she could take the time to schlep the thing to the appliance store where she'd bought it. 10:15 P.M. Pitt Henderson had been slowly easing himself down so that he was now practically horizontal. He was sprawled on the threadbare couch squeezed into his third-floor dorm room on campus in front of his black-and-white thirteen-inch TV. His parents had given him the set on his previous birthday. The screen might have been tiny, but the reception was good, and the image was clear as a bell. Pitt was a senior at the university and scheduled to graduate that year. He was premed and had majored in chemistry. Although he'd been only a slightly above average student, he'd been able to snare a position in the medical school by evidencing hard work and commitment. He was the only chemistry major who had opted for the work-study program and had been working in the University Medical Center since his freshman year, mostly in the labs. Currently he was on a work rotation and clerking in the emergency department. Over the years Pitt had developed a habit of making himself useful wherever in the hospital he was assigned. A huge yawn brought tears to his eyes and the NBA game he was watching began to fade as his mind began to drift toward sleep. Pitt was a stocky, muscular twenty-one-year-old who'd been a star football player in high school but had failed to make the team in college. He'd weathered the disappointment and turned it into a positive experience by concentrating that much more on his goal of becoming a doctor. Just when Pitt's eyelids touched, the picture tube of his beloved TV blew up, scattering shards of glass over his abdomen and chest. It had been at the same instant that Candee and Jonathan's radio as well as Sheila's VCR had gone crazy. For a second Pitt didn't move. He was stunned and confused, unsure if the disturbance that had shocked him awake had been external or internal, like one of the jerks he'd get on occasion just before falling asleep. After pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and finding himself staring into the depths of a burned-out cathode ray tube, he knew that he'd not been dreaming. "Holy crap!" he remarked as he heaved himself to his feet and gingerly brushed the thin shards of glass from his lap. Out in the hall he heard multiple doors creaking against their hinges. Stepping out into the hall, Pitt glanced up and down the corridor. A number of students in all manner of dress, male and female, were looking at each other with dazed expressions. "My computer just blew a fuse," John Barkly said. "I was on the Internet." John lived in the room right next to Pitt's. "My freakin' TV exploded," announced another student. "My Bose clock-radio practically caught fire," said another student. "What the hell's going on? Is this some sort of prank?" Pitt closed his door and eyed the sad remains of his beloved TV. Some prank, he mused. If he caught the guy responsible, he'd beat the crap out of him ... 2 7:30 A.M. Pulling off main street into Costa’s 24-hour diner, the right rear tire of Beau Start's black Toyota 4Runner hit the curb and the vehicle bounced. Sitting in the front passenger seat, Cassy Winthrope's head bumped against the passenger-side window. She wasn't hurt, but the jolt had been unexpected. Luckily she had her seat belt on. "My God!" Cassy exclaimed. "Where'd you learn to drive, Kmart?" "Very funny," Beau said sheepishly. "I turned a little too soon, okay?" "You should let me drive if you're preoccupied," Cassy said. Beau drove across the crowded gravel parking lot and pulled to a stop in a slot in front of the diner. "How do you know I'm preoccupied?" he asked. He pulled on the brake and killed the engine. "When you live with someone you begin to read all sorts of little clues," Cassy said as she undid her seat belt and alighted from the car. "Especially someone you're engaged to." Beau did the same, but as his foot made contact with the ground, it slipped on a rock. He grabbed onto the open door to keep from falling. "That settles it," Cassy said, having caught Beau's latest sign of inattentiveness and temporary lack of coordination. "After breakfast, I'm driving." "I can drive fine," Beau said irritably as he slammed the car door and locked the car with his remote. He met up with Cassy at the rear of the car and they trudged toward the diner's entrance. "Sure, just like you can shave fine," Cassy said. Beau had a small forest of tissue paper plastered to the various nicks and cuts he'd inflicted on himself that morning. "And pour coffee," Cassy added. Earlier Beau had dropped the pot of coffee and broken one of their mugs in the process. "Well, maybe I am a little preoccupied," Beau reluctantly admitted. Beau and Cassy had been living together for the last eight months. They were both twenty-one and seniors, like Pitt. They'd known of each other from their freshman year, but had never dated, each certain that the other was always involved with someone else. When they'd finally been brought together inadvertently by their mutual friend, Pitt, who'd been casually dating Cassy at the time, they'd clicked as if their relationship were meant to be. Most people thought they resembled each other and could almost be brother and sister. Both had thick, dark brown hair, flawless olive-complexion skin, and shockingly crystalline blue eyes. Both were also athletically inclined and frequently worked out together. Some people had joked that they were a brunette version of Ken and Barbie. "Do you really think that you are going to hear from the Nile people?" Cassy asked as Beau held the door open for her. "I mean, Cipher is only the largest software company in the world. I think you are just setting yourself up for big-time rejection." "No question that they'll call," Beau said confidently, entering the restaurant behind Cassy. "After the resume I sent, they'll be calling any minute." He pulled aside his Cerruti jacket to flash the tip of his cellular phone stuck in his inner pocket. Beau's snappy attire that morning was no accident. He made it a point to dress nattily every day. It was his feeling that looking successful bred success. Luckily, his professional parents were able and willing to indulge his inclinations. To his credit he was a hard worker, studied diligently, and got outstanding grades. Confidence was not something he lacked. "Hey, guys!" Pitt called from a booth beneath the front windows. "Over here!" Cassy waved and wormed her way through the crowd. Costa's Diner, affectionately labeled the "greasy spoon," was a popular university hangout, especially for breakfast. Cassy slid into the seat across from Pitt. Beau did likewise. "Did you have any trouble with your TV or radio last night?" Pitt asked excitedly before any hellos were exchanged. "Did you have anything turned on around ten-fifteen?" Cassy made an expression of exaggerated disdain. "Unlike other people," Beau said with feigned haughtiness, "we study on school nights." Pitt unceremoniously bounced a piece of wadded-up napkin off Beau's forehead. He'd been nervously toying with the paper while waiting for Beau and Cassy to arrive. "For those of you nerds who have no idea of what's going on in the real world, last night at quarter past ten a whole shitload of radios and TVs were knocked out all over the city," Pitt said. "Mine included. Some people think it was a prank by some guys in the physics department, and I'll tell you, I'm steamed." "It would be nice if it happened over the entire country," Beau said. "Within a week of no TV the national average IQ would probably go up." "Orange juice for everyone?" Marjorie the waitress asked. She'd appeared at the tableside. Before anyone could answer she began pouring. It was all part of the normal morning ritual. Then Marjorie took their orders and barked them in Greek over the counter to the two short-order cooks. While everyone was enjoying their juice, Beau's cellular phone's muted ring could be heard under the fabric of his jacket. In his haste to get to it, he knocked over his juice glass. Pitt had to react instinctively to avoid a lap full of OJ. Cassy shook her head captiously as she pulled out a half-dozen napkins from the holder and blotted up the spilled juice. She rolled her eyes for Pitt's benefit and mentioned that Beau had been pulling off equivalent stunts all morning. Beau's expression brightened when he realized his hopes had been answered: the call was coming from Randy Nile's organization. He even made certain to pronounce the name, Cipher, very clearly for Cassy's benefit. Cassy explained to Pitt that Beau was looking for employment with the Pope. "I'd be happy to come for an interview," Beau was saying with studied calmness. "It would be my pleasure indeed. Whenever Mr. Nile would like to see me, I'd be happy to fly east. As I indicated in my cover letter, I'll be graduating next month, and I'd be available to begin work ... well, really any time thereafter." " 'Thereafter!' " Cassy sputtered. She choked on her orange juice. "Yeah," Pitt chimed in. "Where'd that word come from? That doesn't sound like the Beau I've learned to love." Beau waved them off and shot them a dirty look. "That's correct," he said into the phone. "What I'm looking for is some permutation of the role of personal assistant to Mr. Nile." "Permutation?" Cassy questioned, suppressing a laugh. "What I like is the muted but fake English accent," Pitt said. “Maybe Beau should go into acting and forget computers." "He is a rather good actor," Cassy said, tickling his ear. "This morning he was pretending to be a klutz." Beau batted away her hand. "Yes, that would be fine," he said into the phone. "I'll make arrangements to be there. Please tell Mr. Nile I look forward to meeting him with great alacrity." " 'Alacrity'?" Pitt voiced, pretending to gag himself with his index finger. Beau pressed the end button and flipped his cellular phone closed. He glared at both Cassy and Pitt. "You guys are like really mature. That was possibly the most important call in my life, and you're clowning around." " 'Like really mature'! That sounds more like the Beau I know," Cassy said. "Yeah, who was that other guy talking on the phone?" Pitt asked. "He's the guy who's going to be working for Cipher come June," Beau said. "Mark my word. After that, who knows? While you, my friend, are going to be wasting another four years in medical school." Pitt laughed out loud. "Waste four years in medical school?" he questioned. "Now that's a curious, albeit twisted perspective." Cassy slid over next to Beau and started to nibble at his earlobe. Beau pushed her away. "Jeez, Cass, there are professors in here that I know, people who might be writing me letters of recommendation." "Oh, don't be so uptight," Cassy said. "We're just teasing you 'cause you're so wired. Actually I'm amazed Cipher called you. It's quite a coup. I'd imagine they'd get lots of job inquiries." "It's going to be even more of a coup when Randy Nile offers me a job," Beau said. "The experience would be mindboggling. It's a dream job. The man is worth billions." "It would also be demanding," Cassy said wistfully. "Probably twenty-five hours a day, eight days a week, fourteen months a year. That doesn't leave much time for us, especially if I'll be teaching here." ...
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