“No,” Culver said, “you’re standing on top of a catastrophe. This is the true epicenter of the 1906 San Francisco earthquake, a natural disaster in the eyes of the world. But, in actuality, the largest self-inflicted wound in U.S. history.”
“April 18, 1906,” Pitt said. “The day Daniel Watterson and General Hal Cortland died.”
“That’s right,” Culver said. “Only they didn’t die in Topeka, Kansas, and San Diego, California, like it says on their papers. They died right here, twenty stories beneath our feet, along with eighty-one others. Casualties not counted in the official death toll of the earthquake.”
“The obituaries,” Pitt said, understanding what happened. “They were all the same, just a few words changed: name, cause of death, and location. They were all written by one person as part of the cover-up. No one bothered to distinguish them. Whoever it was, they didn’t count on modern computer analysis to pick up the similar patterns.”
“It was 1906,” Culver said sarcastically. “I’m guessing they didn’t think that far ahead. Come with me.”
Together, the three of them walked back into the forest. They passed through a length of electrified fence and came to a sealed hatch that was as sturdy as any Pitt had ever seen on a ship. In fact, it reminded him of the doors to NORAD’s mountain bunker, only a lot smaller.
Culver entered a code on the outside and then used a key card. A seal cracked and the hatch opened like an oyster, revealing steps.
The three of them went inside, and Culver flipped a bank of switches. Old 1940s-style fixtures came to life, illuminated by modern halogen bulbs. A short walk brought them to another sealed door. Once through this door, they entered an elevator. It took them down into a lighted cave.
The cave was mammoth in size, but it appeared to be man-made, or perhaps shored up by man. Concrete lined the walls in places. Steel I beams spanned the cave in dizzying directions, welded and cross-braced in places. To Pitt, it looked like some giant had gone crazy with an Erector set.
They came to an open section. Pitt stared down into a chasm. It dropped hundreds of feet. Water filled the bottom.
“This is where the experiment happened,” Culver said. “Using Tesla’s theory, Watterson claimed he could create and transmit limitless energy. They built a machine much like what your friend found in the mine.”
Pitt guessed at the series of events. “After Tesla shut down Wardenclyffe, Watterson took the idea back to the army, making his own deal with General Cortland.”
Culver nodded. “According to Watterson, he’d developed an improved version.”
“Depends on your definition of the word
“That it does,” Culver said, pointing to some sparkling residue on the cave wall. “See this? It’s shocked quartz. You’re only supposed to get it when a meteor hits the Earth or an A-bomb goes off. The whole cave is filled with it, right down into the chasm.”
“From the experiment,” Pitt surmised.
Culver nodded. “Watterson activated his machine and began to get feedback. A data line running from down here up to a small receiving station on the surface recorded what happened. Multiple waves of energy, all from an initial impulse of minor proportions. Each wave of energy was many times more powerful than the one before it.”
“So Watterson’s experiment was a success,” Pitt noted.
“It went too well, in fact,” Culver said. “He couldn’t shut it off. Couldn’t control the energy he’d released. The waves grew, flowing in and out of this cave, shaking it to pieces. The observers and military personnel were crushed and buried down here. But the devastation didn’t end until they triggered a long-overdue movement in the San Andreas Fault.”
“This experiment caused the 1906 San Francisco quake?” Pitt asked, just to be sure.
Culver nodded. “By extension, that means the U.S. government did it and never owned up to it. Three thousand people died, countless more were badly burned or wounded. Eighty-five percent of the city was destroyed. So now you can see why it must remain a secret. People would never trust the government if they knew.”
Dirk Pitt could hardly believe what he was hearing. “I’ve got news for you Culver: no one really trusts the government anyway. Keeping secrets like this is reason number one.”
“What you’ve been told does not leave this cave,” Culver grunted.
“Fine,” Pitt said. “What happened a hundred years ago doesn’t really concern me. What I’m trying to do is stop it from happening again. Only a thousand times worse. To that end, I need Tesla’s theory. I know you guys have it. The Office of Alien Property took his papers when he died. They were folded into the OSS, and somehow that all leads up to you.”
“We do have it,” Culver admitted, “but not because it was stolen. The OSS brought Tesla here in ’37 when he was finally threatening to publish the theory. We showed him this place. Gave him the data and told him what happened. He handed the theory over that same day. The Office of Alien Property was just making sure no other copies existed.”
“You’d better give us yours, then,” Pitt said.
“I’ll turn it over,” Culver said. “But let me be clear: the theory and the technology must be kept under wraps. Ever since this accident, we’ve watched people approach what Tesla discovered. Ninety-nine percent of them touch on it and then go the other way, even the serious ones. Those that don’t turn back have fallen on hard times.”
“So you guys were watching Thero,” Pitt said wryly. “Probably helping make sure he failed.”
“It wasn’t hard,” Culver said. “He’s a nut. Delusional, and possibly schizophrenic. We just helped people see that more clearly.”
Pitt glanced at Sandecker. “Just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you.”
“Indeed,” Sandecker said.
Pitt turned back to Culver. “You probably could have saved the world a lot of pain if you’d have brought him into the fold.”
“We should have put a bullet in him,” Culver said bitterly. “We don’t want him, or anyone like him, in the fold. We don’t want anyone messing around with this. Ever.”
Pitt narrowed his gaze. “Why? We pursue every other technology. Nuclear bombs, biological and chemical weapons. Why not this?”
Culver didn’t blink. But he took the long way around in explaining. “My wife and I have a farm, Mr. Pitt. We have a few cows, a few goats, a few ATVs, and a whole lot of dogs. Some big dogs, some little dogs, even a few mean dogs. But there’s one scrawny mutt that just never was right. He never behaves the same way twice. Friendly one second, trying to tear your arm off the next. That dog scares me more than the mean ones. He scares the other dogs too. They give him a wide birth. Even the big alphas.
“Zero-point energy is like that. It’s unpredictable. Erratic. The NSA has had people studying it for decades. We’re too damned scared to do anything like this experiment because each time we run the numbers, we come up with a range of possible outcomes instead of just one. Could you imagine firing a gun if you had a fifty-fifty chance of hitting the target or having the gun blow up in your face?”
“No,” Pitt admitted.
“Nor can I,” Culver said. “But that’s how it is. With a gun, you pull the trigger and the bullet fires. With a bomb, you hit the detonator and the explosives blow. Even a hydrogen bomb has an established yield. But with this stuff… With this stuff, the results seem to be random, like it has a mind of its own. And that means once you press the switch, all bets are off. At that point, anything can happen.”
Pitt recalled Yaeger’s comment describing it as a moody genie, best kept in a bottle. It seemed the NSA agreed with him. He had a feeling Culver was making the point for a reason. “What are you really trying to say?”
Culver still wouldn’t shoot straight, perhaps enjoying the little bit of power he was still holding.
“Have your man run the numbers,” Culver said. “If he disagrees with our people, then we can argue about it. But this device must be prevented from operating under any circumstances. I assure you that’s how the President sees it. We have two nuclear attack submarines moving into the area. As soon as we have a location, they’re going to destroy the site with nuclear-tipped cruise missiles.”
Pitt glanced at Sandecker, who nodded gravely. He’d already been told.
