Free Dark Matter by Greg Iles Page B

the English?" Ritter asked.
    Geli thought of Andrew Fielding. "Sort of. Now get going. Tell Corelli to cover the front."
    "Ja"
    Geli got out of her chair and began to pace the narrow alley between the racks of electronic gear. She thought of calling John Skow again, but Skow didn't want to be bothered. Fine. She'd call him when Tennant bolted, then see what the smug bastard had to say about not keeping the leash too tight.

CHAPTER 8
    I moved silently through the dark trees. Rachel sounded like a blind bear blundering along behind me. On a Manhattan street she probably maneuvered like a pro halfback, but the woods were alien to her. I slowed until she caught up, then told her to hold on to the back of my belt. She did.
    When we were fifty yards away from the house, I said, "Do you believe me about Fielding now?"
    "I believe you worked with him," Rachel said. "I'm not sure he was murdered. I don't think you are either."
    I stepped over a fallen log, then helped her over. "I know he was murdered.
    Only two people at Project Trinity opposed what was being done there. Fielding was one, and now he's dead. I'm the other."
    "Are you going to tell me about Trinity now?"
    "If you're willing to listen. I think you understand now that it could be dangerous for you."
    She sucked in her breath as briers raked her arm. "Go on."
    "When you came to my house today, I was making a videotape to give to my lawyer. He was to open it if something happened to me. I never finished it.
    And the truth is, I'm worried about seeing tomorrow morning alive."
    Rachel stopped in the overgrown track. "Why don't you just call the police? Lu Li clearly shares your suspicions, and I think there's enough circumstantial evidence to—"
    "City police can't investigate the NSA. And that's who oversees Trinity."
    "Call the FBI then."
    "That's like calling the FBI to investigate the CIA. There's so much ill will between those agencies that it would take weeks to get anything done. If you really want to help, become my videotape. Listen to what I have to tell you, then go home and keep it to yourself."
    "And if something happens to you?"
    "Call CNN and The New York Times and tell them everything you know. The sooner you tell it, the safer you'll be."
    "Why don't you do that? Tonight?"

    "Because I can't be sure I'm right. Because the president could be trying to reach me as we speak. And because, as juvenile as it may sound, this is a national security matter."
    Holding Lu Li's whimpering bichon in my left arm, I put my gun in my pocket and pulled Rachel forward. Forty yards on, I saw a deeper darkness ahead. The trees gave way like thinning ranks of soldiers, and then a man-made wall stopped me in my tracks. When my eyes adjusted, I saw the door I had known was there. I opened it with my free hand and led Rachel through. We emerged into a moonlit bowl, lined with cut stone.
    "My God," she said.
    The amphitheater looked as though it had magically been transported to the Carolina woods from Greece. To our right was the elevated stage, to our left a stone stairway leading up through the seats to the top row. Not far above that lay Country Club Road. The view down from the road was almost completely blocked by pines and hardwoods, but I could see the broken beams of headlights passing high above us.
    I took Rachel's hand, stepped onto the stone floor, and led her to the edge of the stage. There I tied Maya's leash around a low light stanchion. While the dog sniffed an invisible scent trail, I set the tape recorder on the edge of the stage and depressed record. "This is David Tennant, M.D.," I said. "I'm speaking to Dr. Rachel Weiss of the Duke University Medical School."
    Playback gave me a staticky facsimile of my words. I looked at my watch. "We need to do this in less than ten minutes."
    Rachel shrugged, her eyes full of curiosity.
    "For the past two years, I've been working on a special project for the National Security Agency. It's known as Project Trinity, and it's