CHAPTER 21

The dinner was everything Blackstone had expected. A semi-retired French chef, the founder of a famous cooking school in Montpellier, prepared the meal. Blackstone told the chef about the circumstances of Claudia’s distress, and wanted to surprise her with a gastronomic delight. Blackstone and Claudia were alone on the terrace, out in the open, uncovered, the table illuminated by ornate brass candles. It was a clear evening, the moon bright, the stars twinkling above them. The winter night air was cool. Each wore a thick coat, with colorful hand-woven wool blankets to cover their legs. A nearby industrial heater provided warmth.

The chef had outdone himself. Endive salad with walnuts and Roquefort cheese was followed by boeuf bourguignon and topped off with Claudia’s favorite dessert, the Sacher tortes. The wine was from the Medoc region of France, a 1982 vintage.

Blackstone nodded for a second bottle of wine when Claudia stopped him. “Whoa, Uncle Rodney. You’re going to put another ten pounds on me. After that meal, I don’t think I’ll be able to breathe.”

“Are you ready to take a walk? See the facilities?”

“Yes,” said Claudia. She reached over and touched his hand. “I promise not to raise hell with anybody.”

“Miss C, you can raise hell with anybody you want to. It livens up this stuffy place and this stuffy old scientist.”

She leaned over and kissed him. “You’re anything but stuffy. You made me who I am.”

Embarrassed by her show of emotion, he abruptly stood.

“Shall we go?”

A hand appeared out of nowhere and Claudia’s chair was pulled back as she stood. The butler gathered their wool blankets and slung them over his arm. Blackstone nodded his thanks and slipped his arm into Claudia’s. He looked at his watch. “I have a little surprise for you. It should be ready by now.”

He spoke to the butler. “Please let them know we are coming.”

“Yes, Sir.”

They walked off the terrace.

“Excellent dinner,” said Blackstone.

“It was,” said Claudia.

Blackstone patted his stomach. “We physicists are a well fed lot.”

“Yes,” said Claudia. “As I said, I’d better be careful.”

The grounds were illuminated by a full moon. Claudia and Blackstone strolled across the terrace and down through a cobble stone passageway. Evergreen trees lined the way, their branches covered with small pockets of snow, a reminder of the previous night’s flurry. Claudia glowed as she looped her arm into his and snuggled her face in his jacket, once again inhaling the familiar tobacco pipe scent she had known as a little girl.

At last she felt a closure, she thought, the end of a tumultuous journey filled with violence and excitement. In a perverted sense, she had enjoyed the excitement, but the idea of a family, a close knit unit of familiar faces and comfortable places had taken seed and grown within her. As much as her scientific curiosity drove her, so did her need for family and love.

On her first flight to graduate school in Boston, someone had left a book in the seat pocket in front of her. The title had intrigued her, an examination of the relationships between women and their fathers. The book examined the lives of twenty successful women from science, business, media, literature, all manner of disciplines. After assessing the detailed interviews, the author concluded that to a woman, a significant factor in each of their lives had been their early relationship with their father or a similar paternal figure. A kernel of knowledge had been planted in each of them as a young girl, it said, that there was one man, one single male figure, who would never let them down, someone who had given them their self-esteem, their sense of worth. Throughout their lives, the women’s relationship with their father had influenced both their professional and family lives. Deep down inside, it said, the women had felt their father’s unequivocal love, a love that was always present. After the father died, that seed of love had remained, comforting the women in their remaining years.

In a sense Blackstone had been that person for Claudia. But he had always remained aloof, much like a teacher, forbidden to allow his emotions to enter into the teacher-student relationship. Yet despite the austere façade she knew there was love. She could feel it. As a preteen Claudia had grown to love their time together, where his paternal lectures made her want to excel in her work, to make him proud of her. In her teens her rebellious traits took over, but the early years never left her. They were the rock she stood on, and she knew he would always be there for her.

They continued walking for several minutes, comfortable in each other’s arms. They stopped at the entrance to the main research building.

He smiled. “Ready?”

“As ever.”

Blackstone released his hold on her and put on his reading glasses. After fumbling them onto the bridge of his nose, he keyed a number into an electronic pad, mounted to the right of a thick metal door. There was a loud buzz as the door swung open.

The interior was a stark contrast to the ivy laden estate house. The walls were poured concrete, painted white with shiny enamel-based paint. Stainless steel metal lined the door jams and trim, giving the interior the look of a futuristic spaceship.

Claudia headed straight down the hallway, following a sign that pointed to the central lab area.

Blackstone stopped her. “No, this way.”

She turned and followed him back, through a non-descript side doorway that appeared to be a janitor’s closet. They entered the door and descended down a staircase. Their footsteps echoed on the metal steps. She looked around the stark concrete passageway, intrigued.

“I wouldn’t have known this was here,” she said.

“In a moment you’ll see why we disguised the location.”

They continued down another level to a landing where there was a second electronic pad. Blackstone again took out his glasses, keying in a number. The door opened with another loud buzz. They proceeded down, into a second stairwell, to another landing and another thick metal door. Blackstone opened it and they traveled down to a third level, and a final door. There they entered a hallway to the underground laboratory.

Claudia carefully scanned the setting, intrigued by the layout.

“We have a surprise,” said Blackstone. “We’ve been working on this ever since you gave us the treatise. Are you aware that the Swiss have been producing antimatter by colliding sub-atomic particles at low energy levels?”

“To produce small particles of antimatter?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, I am aware of their work,” said Claudia. “Actually, it was a German-Swiss team. An anti-proton decelerator. They mix cold clouds of trapped positrons and antiprotons, but it’s done in very small amounts.”

“True,” said Blackstone. “But recently they have given us a way to hold antimatter in a small, low energy container, a vacuum configuration of electrical and magnetic fields. It’s called a ‘trap.’ They trap, accumulate and cool more anti-hydrogen than has ever been done before.”

“Fascinating,” said Claudia. “If only I could –”

“We have one here.”

“No!” Claudia was truly surprised. Even for this place, she thought, the costs of such a device had to be astronomical.

“Yes,” said Blackstone. “And we have taken it one step further, with a much larger mass.”

“I must see it,” said Claudia.

“Come.”

Blackstone opened the door to the lab and switched on the lights. Claudia was amazed as she gazed around the glass-enclosed room. It overlooked a lower level area filled with glowing lights and electronic screens, all state-of-the-art electronic monitors. Lines of cables ran everywhere, tying the devices and their bright green displays together.

Centered in the middle of the lower laboratory space was a two ton, dense metal, rectangle-shaped box.

Standing next to the metal box were two young assistants in white lab coats. They turned and waved to the Professor as he and Claudia entered the room. Blackstone waved back and picked up a telephone.

He lifted the phone and pressed the intercom button. “This is what has gotten us so excited.”

“What?” said Claudia.

“That.” He pointed at the big metal box. “It occurred by accident. It started when we recalculated a formula from your treatise to modify that antimatter containment device.”

“And?”

“Watch.” Blackstone pressed a button on the phone and one of the lab assistants picked up the telephone. “We’re ready up here,” said Blackstone. “…You may begin.”

A loud humming noise startled Claudia, vibrating the floor under her.

“Pay close attention,” said Blackstone.

Claudia focused on the rectangular device.

“OH MY GOD!”

The entire two-ton box levitated off the floor, floating free, as if it were held in the air by a gigantic fan blowing underneath it. The two assistants were delighted as they manhandled the two-ton device, pulling on tethers, trying to keep it from floating sideways.

Blackstone grinned like a Cheshire cat.

“Yes, indeed. Imagine our surprise. For some reason the adjustment we made in the electromagnetic charge reversed the gravity surrounding the containment trap. It created some sort of force field.”

Claudia was shocked. “This is Star Trek material.”

Blackstone nodded. “In a sense, your treatise has brought Gene Rodenberry’s science fiction to life.”

“I am being serious,” said Claudia.

“So am I,” said Blackstone.

“I used to watch the program as a young girl. In Star Trek they used an antimatter engine to power their mystical Enterprise ‘starship’ and explore the outer reaches of space.”

“And here’s the engine,” said Blackstone, pointed at the levitating device below them.

“Not only that,” added Claudia, “here we have the makings of an anti-gravity force field. Think of the potential.”

Her mind was whirling.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it since this happened,” said Blackstone, shaking his head as he gazed at the scene below them.

Claudia was lost in thought, all four levels going at once. Amazed at the potential for the discovery, she was also cautious.

“Antimatter. I hadn’t really considered its use. Not this soon. We must be extremely careful Uncle Rodney.”

Excited, the Professor was making notes on a pad, ignoring her warning. He kept writing.

“You must know –”

He lifted his head from the notes. “Just imagine what we can do. One millionth of a gram of antimatter is enough energy to send a manned flight to Jupiter for a year.”

“True,” she said. “But as I was saying, if we miscalculate, the consequences are dire. Like energy, the explosive capacity is virtually unlimited. We must be careful. Remember the ‘big bang’ theory. The universe was created when antimatter came into contact with matter. One misstep and we alter the universe and planet earth becomes another black hole in space.”

Her words fell on deaf ears. Blackstone continued writing his notes, not looking up.

“Yes, yes, we have much work to do.”

He picked up the telephone and nodded through the glass at the lab assistant, who nodded back and picked up his phone.

“Thank you,” said Blackstone. “…You may shut it down.”

The lab assistants shut down the power and the two-ton box gently floated to the ground.