The Genesis Key Read Online Free PDF Page B

before an impressive array of laboratory equipment. The square
half-rimmed glasses and lab coat did nothing to detract from her natural
beauty.
    He refolded the paper and tossed it onto his desk.
“Maria!” he bellowed through the open door to his secretary.
    â€œYes?” she answered.
    â€œBring me the file on Dr. Sainsbury.”

Chapter Three
    Arlington, Virginia.
    D r. William McCreary pressed his security badge against the infrared scanner that controlled access to a door marked OSNS at the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA). He was a youthful fifty-one years old, medium height, athletic build, but a bit pudgy around the middle. The infrared scanner beeped and, simultaneously, the heavy steel door magnetically unlocked with a loud ka-chunk . McCreary entered the restricted area belonging to the Office of Science and National Security and headed straight to his office. In an agency notorious for top-secret, black, and off-budget programs, McCreary managed one of the most secretive of them all.
    He reached the door to his office and unlocked it with a key—there was no security scanner for this door. The sign on the door read simply L OGISTICS A NALYSIS . He smiled every time he read that sign, having purposely chosen the most mundane project name imaginable. For the past two years, “Logistics Analysis” had worked like a charm. No one at DARPA seemed to care very much about the boring activities that presumably went on behind this door.
    And that was just the way he preferred it.
    DARPA was established in 1958 in response to the Soviet’s launching of Sputnik. DARPA’s mission then—as it was today—was to ensure that the United States always maintained the upper hand in state-of-the-art military technology and was never again surprised by an enemy’s technological advances. DARPA was specifically designed not to be a bureaucracy. Instead, its goal was to give brilliant (and often zealous) program managers nearly complete autonomy—and considerable financial resources—to pursue cutting-edge ideas that were often viewed as impracticable or downright crazy by the mainstream scientific community. Although many such projects failed, others succeeded beyond all possible expectations. The Internet (formerly DARPANET) was just one example of such successes.
    McCreary entered the Logistics Analysis office and closed and locked the door behind him. The reception area was small and windowless. A plain, wooden desk dominated the center of the space, upon which sat the typical paraphernalia of a workaday government analyst—a computer and printer, graphs, charts, reams of data, and various binders and books. Seated at the desk was a large, muscular man of about thirty with bulging biceps and a protruding, square chin. He wore the uniform of a federal bureaucrat: khaki slacks, white, short-sleeve shirt, cheap necktie, and a security badge clipped to his shirt pocket.
    â€œGood morning, Dr. McCreary,” said the bureaucrat.
    â€œMorning, Steve. I’ve got a secure video conference at nine fifteen.”
    â€œRight.” Steve stood up, walked to the back of the office and typed in a nine-digit code on a small keypad beside a large, white panel in the wall. Suddenly, the panel shuddered and popped open about twenty inches, creating a narrow entryway into another chamber.
    â€œThanks,” said McCreary stepping through the opening. “This shouldn’t take long.”
    McCreary was now standing inside a stark, white room, eight feet long by five feet wide, with a seven-foot ceiling. He pressed a button on the wall and the steel door slid shut with a soft thud.
    There were no paintings, drapes, or other objects hanging on the walls—nothing that could potentially conceal an eavesdropping device. The floor and ceiling were likewise clean and bare.
    McCreary pushed another button on the wall, and the room suddenly filled with the whooshing