Page 102 of Identity Unknown
“How long have you been working out here?”
“Two years.”
“Do you remember the first time you met Sal Giordano?” I ask.
“Last June. He got word of what we were making here, and paid us a visit. It was quite the big moment for a Nobel laureate to show up, as you might imagine. We sat down and talked about the project he had in mind. He didn’t want anyone knowing what he was doing.”
“Why not?” Marino asks.
“Mostly he was worried about the government taking his idea for its own use,” Daku explains with a flash of resentment. “He said he’d pay cash for the bags of simulant necessary for the research. And he’d compensate us for our time.”
“Usor just you?”
“Well…”
“Hey, Daku?” Marino blows a perfect smoke ring. “Ask if we give a shit about that.”
“It was just me. And it was important that there’d be no electronic or paper trail.”
“Isn’t that something?” Marino looks at me. “He just happens to walk out on a smoke break when we pull up.”
“We have security monitors everywhere,” Daku says. “I saw you pull up and knew you didn’t work here. Nobody drives anything black around here. It was only a matter of time before someone showed up asking questions.”
“Better to cut it off at the pass, right?” Marino says.
“Yes. Doctor Giordano was a brilliant scientist and a good person. He shouldn’t have his ideas stolen from him by the government or anyone else.”
“And his actual research was done here,” I make sure. “That’s what the purchased simulant was for?”
“Nothing left this facility except the small amounts he’dtake home to experiment with,” Daku says, and I envision the residue that sparkled cobalt blue under UV light.
There were traces of it inside Sal’s pickup truck. That makes sense if on occasion he visited the facility and hauled some of the simulated moon dust home. As fastidious as he was, I have no doubt he wore face masks while working with it. But it wouldn’t have been possible to get rid of it. You might not see the residue with the unaided eye, but it would still fluoresce.
“It would be helpful to take a look around inside, and then we’ll get out of your way,” Marino says as if it’s our right. “Maybe you can show us what you’re talking about. And where Sal Giordano would hang out when he’d visit.”
Zipping up his coveralls, the geologist puts on his hair cover, his goggles. He punches in a code to unlock the door he stepped out of earlier. We’re shown inside a vast work area divided into different stations, everybody covered from head to toe by white Tyvek.
In an anteroom are shelves of PPE, and Daku hands us coveralls to wear over our clothing. We put on booties, face masks and goggles. The noise of grinders and other machinery is loud, and we’re given earplugs should we want them. Putting on hard hats, we follow Daku across the dust-covered floor, and I can’t imagine working in such an environment without a respirator or at least a surgical mask.
Against a far wall are pallets of lunar regolith simulants in fifty-pound bags for shipping, the writing in Japanese. Daku walks us into another room with a ball mill that finely grindsthe necessary minerals. Workers are driving forklifts and utility terrain vehicles (UTVs), nobody paying us much mind as we’re given a tour.
Our geologist guide goes into detail about the process of extracting ore and reducing it and other minerals into a fine dust. The individual grains are too small to see without magnification. He complains about how tenacious the dust is.
“Sticking to everything like Velcro,” he says.
The next connected building produces solar cells and panels. From there we pass through a vehicle bay where trucks are loaded with pallets of lunar, Martian and perovskite simulants. We pass through a series of doors leading to a small windowless office with two desks, a copying machine, a coffeemaker, a water cooler.
“This is where I would talk with Doctor Giordano,” Daku says.
But I’m distracted by the radio tuned in to a talk show, the host ranting about political conspiracies. I feel a chill touch the back of my neck.
“… The reason is to keep you in the dark. To control your every thought and feeling…!” the host declares.
I’m reminded of what I heard in the background when I got the hang-ups in the morgue and on my cell phone. The air is dusty in here, and I notice cobwebs and dead bugs. Pink fiberglass insulation protrudes from a damaged wall.
And detritus such as bug pieces and parts, insulation, cobwebs and such,Lee Fishburne said.
I think of the trace evidence I collected from Sal’s body. Lee also mentioned cat dander, and I ask Daku if anyone might bring a pet to work.