Part 7 of The Osiris Enigma

Quinn and Berkman sat in the lounge down the hall slurping on black government coffee. They watched people with white lab coats come and go getting their coffee, Danishes, and granola bars. Neither Quinn nor Berk spoke a word to anyone. They were still digesting their findings, the mystery particles and how the particles might play into the investigation. Quinn kept looking nervously at his watch, trying to pinpoint when Jung Sim would join them with the developed micrographs. Quinn knew that Director Thompson was expecting to be notified a.s.a.p. with any developments and he was anxious to make the call.

Berkman plopped his empty coffee cup onto the small table next to his chair. He removed and began polishing his horn-rimmed glasses just as the lounge door opened. There was a large manila envelope tucked under his arm as Jung Sim entered the lounge and helped himself to a large cup of black government coffee. He turned and motioned for Quinn and Berk to follow him as he lightly sipped hot java from the cup. Both investigators jumped to their feet and followed Jung Sim into the hallway.

“Gentlemen these micrographs are spectacular! Let us go to my office so we can examine them in private.” said Jung Sim as the group strolled down the hallway.

After several minutes of traversing winding NSA corridors the trio arrived at Jung Sim’s office. The interior was Spartan but functional and liberally peppered with photographs, diplomas, and personal bric-a-brac. Jung Sim motioned for the investigators to be seated as he sat behind the desk. “Here are the micrographs gentlemen.” Jung Sim said as he opened the manila envelope and spread the photos on the desk. “The exposures are perfect and the detail is excellent if I do say so myself!”

Indeed, as Quinn and Berk perused the photo collection they were impressed with the quality of the images. The features of the metallic globules were even better detailed than the screen images they had seen on the microscope. They speculated about the probable function of the globules and how they had arrived in the pilot’s brain. Quinn thought they were some sort of short circuiting devices that could incapacitate or kill the person infested with them. Berkman and Jung Sim agreed with Quinn, but incapacitating a person could also be readily accomplished with drugs; therefore the particles must be capable of some other function. They all agreed that there was no definitive evidence for how these particles got into the brain or the origin of the unidentifiable metal they were composed of.

For a few minutes everyone went silent. Jung Sim continued to sip his coffee while Quinn rubbed his chin over and over again. Berkman had a thousand-meter stare going when a wave of inspiration hit him and he blurted: “Hey, what about the remaining brain tissue sample? Is there enough left for any further analysis? If there is enough could we section it to try and pinpoint where these particles are? Maybe that will give us some idea about what the hell is happening in there!

“Excellent idea Mr. Berkman! We have staff on hand that can perform those procedures, but I believe that the tissue will have to be prepared overnight before they can freeze it and begin the sectioning. Otherwise the cell membranes could rupture and there would be little hope of determining anything about your sample.” Jung Sim replied with enthusiasm. “I will have to call pathology and see who can assist us with the sectioning.”

“Speaking of phone calls…I had better call Director Thompson before he blows his stack. He wants to know exactly what we’ve got right away.” Quinn interjected as Jung Sim was picking up his desk phone. “Excuse me guys, I’ll be right back.” Quinn said as he pulled out his cell phone and got up from his chair. He walked out into the hallway, closing Jung Sim’s door as he left. He hit the speed dial for Thompson and glanced at his watch. The phone began to ring on the other end, and someone answered.

“Thompson here, what’s new Quinn?” said Director Thompson.

“Sir, we have made some significant progress here. We have not been able to identify what kind of metal substance came from Moore’s brain tissue, but...” Quinn began to explain when suddenly Thompson cut him short.

“What the fuck are you talking about Quinn? The NSA has the best equipment and analysts in the world. They can identify ANYHTING! What is the major difficulty here agent Quinn? Do I need to come out there and take over this investigation? Thompson yelled as his blood pressure rose and his eyes bulged.

“No sir, please let me explain…better yet let me digitize and transfer all of our current results to you. I will let the documents speak for themselves. I am sure once the information has been reviewed we will all be on the same page sir.” Quinn responded with unusual coolness.

“You had better be right Quinn or I will be on the next flight out to officially relieve you of your duties. Get whatever you have in hand to me right now! I’ll be briefing the president in a few hours and he will rip me a new asshole if I don’t have something positive to show him…and you know that shit rolls down hill Quinn.” Said director Thompson with slightly less rage.

“Yes sir, I understand. You will have the documents within the hour. We are also following up on this information with additional testing. Unfortunately we have to wait until tomorrow for the results.” Quinn said with surety.

“Very well Quinn, I need those results yesterday. Call me a.s.a.p. when you know any more. Goodbye.” Thompson said and the line went dead.

Quinn let out a sigh of relief and closed his cell phone. He turned and opened the door to Jung Sim’s office. Berkman and Jung Sim were still pouring over the photos. Berkman looked up at Quinn and said, “Shit, you look like someone chewed you up and spat you out!

“Yeah, as usual Thompson was in a really good mood! He’s under a lot of pressure to deliver results and he just tightened the thumbscrews on us.” Quinn remarked with a grimace. “We need to digitize our current results and send them to him right away! Jung Sim, can you help us out? We’ll need a maximum security digital line.”

Jung Sim thought for a moment and replied, “Yes gentlemen, Carl our chief lab coordinator can get those documents transmitted. He will also take your sample to pathology and embed it for us. Do not worry gentlemen; Carl is the best. Let me page him to the office.” He picked up the phone, entered a series of numbers, and hung up. “We certainly have a mystery on our hands, do we not gentlemen?” Jung Sim said with a wide Cheshire cat grin.

End Part 8 go on to read part 9