to keep the tabloids interested,” Theodore countered. “The man feeds these ridiculous rumors that he is some kind of descendant from Atlanteans who escaped in aircrafts before their own big bang.”
“I actually found Zag’s discussion on Atlantis quite fascinating,” Lionel said, again acting as mediator. “I don’t believe anyone has ever postulated the possibility that it was in attempting to isolate dark matter that the Atlanteans caused their destruction.”
“Well, then, perhaps you don’t read enough science fiction,” Theodore added.
“Then there’s the idea of the Atlantean crystal,” Lionel continued. “It’s somewhat reminiscent of Morgan’s psychic artifact, the Eye of Athena. I believe it was your point to connect the two, Zag?”
But before Zag could answer, Theodore threw up his hands. “Now it’s back to psychic artifacts? More mumbo jumbo!”
The crystal, the Eye of Athena, had been an ongoing topic of conversation with the Brain Trust. Ten months ago, it had made the headlines as part of a collection of psychic artifacts confiscated after the murder of David Gospel. The man, a local real-estate mogul, had accumulated quite the collection—most of it obtained on the black market, of course. And while many of the artifacts had been authenticated by their own Martha and colleagues, the Eye of Athena had turned out to be a fraud.
Soon thereafter, Morgan began discussing the crystal, artfully dangling the possibility that he’d gotten his hands on the real deal. Thus far, Morgan had refused to produce it, talking about the Eye of Athena only in the theoretical, claiming his interest in the artifact had been brought on by the recent headlines and his own history with the stone.
It was a facile explanation. Morgan’s lover, Estelle Fegaris, the mother of his only child, had been obsessed with the Eye. Some said the crystal had even cost her her life.
“The comparison seems more than plausible,” Martha mused. “The theory is that the Eye works on the brain, helping to enhance certain psychic abilities…facilitating what Zag refers to as brain evolution. I believe Cayce made similar claims for the Atlantean crystal.” She turned her attention back to Zag. “You suggest, of course, that the artifacts are related. But do you also believe that the crystals actually are dark matter?”
Again, Theodore answered. “If this object—a theoretical object that Morgan refuses to even admit he possesses—were dark matter, our humble building would be weighted down by what was essentially over a ton of gravitational pull. Tell us, Morgan. Do you have a miniature atom bomb hidden somewhere?”
“I know how much you enjoy sounding important, Theodore,” Martha said with a wink, “but for those of us in the room who speak English and not techno nerd, please elaborate.”
But it was Lionel who answered this time. “As I explained last week, the existence of dark matter was first theorized to explain the rotational speeds of galaxies. An answer to the missing mass problem,” Lionel explained. “Dark matter reconciles observable phenomenon with the big bang theory. It, along with the more nebulous concept, dark energy, allows for a sort of fudge factor. Theodore is right. If the crystal were dark matter, it would be significantly heavier than plutonium.”
“Couldn’t the crystal possess a femtogram of dark matter?” Martha insisted.
“Add a pinch of spice and make everything nice?” Theodore scoffed. “That’s about as brilliant as Zag’s concepts about these crystals focusing psychic energy like some idiotic lens. Oh wait, I get it. That’s one of your psychic tools, isn’t it, Zag? Do tell! And what would a parapsychologist of your training, Morgan, title such an artifact? A magic wand?”
“A magic wand?” Morgan grinned. “Now I rather like that, Theodore—and not just because I’ll enjoy watching you eat those words someday when it comes to the Eye. Unfortunately—” Morgan glanced at the conference room clock “—the topic will have to wait for another day.”
Morgan was the self-appointed timekeeper of the group. Discussions like these, while extremely valuable to the Institute, could get out of hand, lasting for hours. But that wasn’t why Morgan cut short today’s debate at what was surely its most interesting juncture.
Later, when he found Zag fast on his heels, Morgan knew his timing had been perfect.
“Morgan.” Zag continued hurrying down the hall toward him, the excitement in his eyes unmistakable. He was almost breathless when he stopped and asked, “How long are you going to keep us guessing? Do you have the Eye or not?”
“Wouldn’t it be wild if I did?” Morgan answered.
“So you haven’t authenticated it?”
Morgan paused, meeting the man’s curious eyes. At the moment, the pupils appeared impossibly large, showing only a rim of ice-water blue.
Morgan lowered his voice, dropping his final crumb of bait. “I’ve run some tests.”
The Eye of Athena was the oldest psychic relic ever found. It could be traced back to the Oracle at Delphi—even to Athena, the Greek goddess. Presumably, the Eye, or the central crystal on the ancient necklace, had been worn by the goddess herself. While he’d never explicitly stated he had the crystal, the last months Morgan had carefully hinted to having it ensconced in his vault, hoping for just this interest from the enigmatic Zag.
“I can help. You know I can,” the younger man said, reaching up to grip Morgan’s arm.
Jesus, he was practically salivating.
“If you’re suggesting some sort of collaboration?” Morgan asked. “I might be interested.”
Suddenly, the man’s curious eyes widened. A smile crossed his lips as he dropped his grip on Morgan and took a step back. “Why do I suddenly feel so easy?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea what you could mean by that,” Morgan said with a faint smile of his own.
Morgan hadn’t wanted to be the one to come, hat in hand, asking for help. Rather, he’d fanned Zag’s enthusiasm for the stone, knowing that eventually it would be Zag begging him for a chance to play.
“Well done,” Zag acknowledged. “Of course, you need my resources.”
“As I said,” Morgan answered carefully, “I am open to a collaboration between us. Here, at the Institute, and with my people in charge.”
The younger man acknowledged Morgan’s conditions with a quick nod. “You won’t be disappointed.”
Fifteen minutes later, Morgan was almost to his office, marveling at today’s success. For years now, he’d worked to capture the interest of Gonzague de Rozières and Halo Industries. Zag was exactly what the Institute needed: young blood and powerful ambition. At just thirty-four, Zag had done the impossible: he’d made the paranormal a bankable industry. And while his public-relations machine didn’t exactly publicize the true goings-on at Halo, Morgan had his sources.
Remote-viewers working for homeland security, research on artificial limbs—computers, even video games, operated by conscious thought. And then there was his pet project, his Halo-effect schools.
When Morgan alluded to having the crystal, he’d expected Zag to fall in with his plans.
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