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“Yes,” she says. “We have no idea what it is.”
“Come on down to my lab and let’s take a look.”
Calloway leads the way down to a typical-looking laboratory complete with stainless steel tables, refrigerators, racks of test tubes and microscopes. Lake sets her messenger bag down on the edge of the closest table, reaches inside and pulls out the glass container. As she hands it over, Calloway’s eyes narrow and he removes his glasses, studying it closer. He tilts it back and forth then twists the cap off.
I’m not sure what to expect, but I think both Lake and I are holding our breath as he sniffs it. He mumbles something unintelligible under his breath then reaches for a wooden stick which he dips inside. Coating the stick, he pulls it back out, smears some of the viscous substance on a glass slide then sets it up under a microscope lens.
Leaning forward, Calloway takes a closer look. “Well, I’ll be damned. It can’t be.”
“Can’t be what?” I ask.
“Have you ever heard of Tantium Force?” he asks.
I frown and exchange a look with Lake. “No.”
“Me neither,” she replies. “What is it?”
Instead of answering, he heads over to a refrigerator. A moment later, he returns with an egg and holds it up for us to see. Like he’s about to do a magic trick. “Watch this,” he murmurs and begins to coat the egg with the white substance.
“It looks like paste,” Lake comments.
She’s right and I have no idea what the hell Calloway is doing. Once he fully covers the egg, he sets it on a small pedestal and hands Lake and I goggles. “Put them on,” he directs and slides a pair over his head as he reaches for a blow torch.
Then Calloway turns the torch on and holds the flame right up to the egg. Yet it doesn’t crack. I watch in amazement as he keeps the flame steady and the outside of the egg begins to glow red.
“How is that possible?” Lake asks.
When the portion of the egg closest to the flame begins to char, Calloway sets the blow torch down and removes his goggles. He gingerly picks up the egg and motions for Lake to hold out her hand. When she does, he lays it in her palm, charred side against her skin.
“It’s barely warm,” she says, voice full of awe.
Calloway takes the egg back, cracks it against the edge of a dish and dumps the still-raw insides into the bowl. It hadn’t even begun to cook yet. “I think you have Tantium Force. It’s kind of like the Bigfoot of the chemistry world—it supposedly exists, but no one has seen it in decades.”
“Why not?” I ask and cross my arms over my chest.
“Because its inventor, Maurice Ward, died abruptly and all of his experiments, calculations and formulas disappeared—most likely stolen or even hidden away somewhere. He was very protective over his discovery. Never sold it to anyone despite the endless offers. T-Force, as it’s also called, is a plastic with heat resistant properties that can withstand more than a mere blow torch. I’m talking about atomic blasts.”
“What?”
“Tests were run and it withstood blasts of over 900 kilotons. That’s more than 75 times the strength of the Hiroshima bomb.”
“That’s insane,” Lake murmurs. “It must be worth a fortune! How in the world did it get into my bag?”
Good question.I have a feeling the innocent-looking school teacher was unknowingly used as a mule to smuggle the substance through airport security. And whoever put it in there now wants it back.
“How much is this stuff worth?” I ask.
Calloway scratches his chin, thinking. “Hundreds of millions, if I had to guess. Every major corporation in the world would be interested in securing the formula. Just think what NASA could do with it.”
My gut clenches. Bad guys would be interested in it, too. Especially terrorists.
I have no idea who is after Lake because of this stuff, but they were so desperate to get it back that they opened fire on a restaurant full of people last night. Letting these guys, or any evil men, get their hands on this Tantium Force could be very bad.
“Does the inventor have any family left?” I ask, pondering who I could possibly trust to return the substance to.
“He has family in Switzerland,” Calloway says. “A daughter, I believe.”
Bingo.I thank Calloway for his time, promise to grab a beer with him soon and guide Lake back out to the Range Rover. I immediately go into operator mode and call Eric Finn, the company’s private pilot that I keep on staff and available 24 hours a day, I and tell him to get the jet ready to leave within the hour.
