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“No. I am on sabbatical at the moment, which is how I came to be stranded so far from my home during a pandemic. Two years ago I was a visiting professor at UC Berkeley. Glenn Ambrose was one of the four students in my geological philosophy seminar. Ambrose was the absolute brightest of this very bright group.”

Laksa takes a long gulp of his mineral water, sighs deeply. Then he tells his story.

“Ambrose submitted his course paper on the theoretical possibility that by using satellites to create radiation waves, we could generate unlimited green energy by tapping into the Earth’s molten core.

“I saw the possible execution of this idea as a great advancement for humankind—for environmental salvation and general medical well-being. I even helped guide some of Ambrose’s research.”

Then Laksa adds a wildly important piece to the story. Quite simply, he watched his student—a certifiable scientific genius—become seduced by the idea of power. He explains that Ambrose began talking about how wealthy and famous he would become. Then, suddenly, his research went in a different direction entirely. Ambrose was determined that hisinvention—which he arrogantly called Terrageddon—could be transformed into a superweapon, not an energy source. Dr. Laksa was devastated that so much work and intelligence could be diverted to such an evil end.

“Meanwhile,” Laksa continues, “Ambrose became completely unhinged. He babbled. He failed to bathe. He had actual fistfights with anyone who challenged his thesis. The university had no choice but to dismiss him.”

As expected, Ambrose was insanely angry. He sent university administrators and Dr. Carl Laksa messages threatening revenge.

“Then Glenn Ambrose just fell off the grid,” Laksa says.

“But,” I say, “not for long.”

“Correct. When I was virtually attending the summit with my colleagues, I once again began to receive threatening messages. This time they were signedHephaestus.”

I do not want to interrupt Dr. Laksa’s story, so I do not tell him the same signature appeared at the end of the messages sent to the late Professor Nakashima, as well as Dr. Langi Singh.

“After the incidents in Kyoto and Copenhagen occurred, I had my suspicions,” Laksa says. “But I also knew how far Ambrose’s machine—the Terrageddon—would be from completion. It seemed impossible to me that he could have finished his work so quickly, especially given his mental state. After the shocking incident at Harvard, I became more concerned. When my colleagues asked to meet and shared their beliefs that the natural disasters were of humanorigin, I had to confront the facts. I shared what I knew with them, and now I’m telling you.” He pauses. I say nothing. Laksa takes a deep breath. His opens and shuts his watery eyes very quickly. His lower lip quivers.

“After I spoke with them and conveyed Ambrose’s identity, they, too, began to receive threatening messages from this Hephaestus. For this reason, I think Ambrose may be monitoring my emails and devices, which is why I’ve gone to such extremes to meet you in secret.”

Then Laksa says, “I am afraid, Mr. Cranston. I am very afraid.”

“I’m also afraid, Doctor. But you know what?”

“What?”

“We haven’t got the time to be afraid.”

CHAPTER 76

I HAVE LEARNED from experience—perhaps more experience than I ever wanted—that if you are working against time and evil, there is just one thing to do: make a plan. Dache taught me long ago that the best plans usually have the highest risk. And the best way to proceed is to accept the risk.

I’ve got Dache’s words in mind as I imagine how to capture Dr. Laksa’s terrible acolyte, Glenn Ambrose. But I can’t help but remember Margo’s words after she swam out of Delaware Bay:Next time, Lamont—a better plan would be nice.

But with the fate of the entire world on my shoulders, and time of the essence, I also need to come up with something fast. If I can capture and destroy this horrid genius, I can ultimately stop him from using Terrageddon.

High risk. High reward.

My plan? With the travel ban scheduled to end, I will convince Glenn Ambrose that Laksa is traveling to the Scientific University of the South in Peru.

Then I will have the college officials evacuate the campus. With the false information we’ve provided, Ambrose will believe that Laksa is back in his office in Peru. Once he’s made good on this threats by unleashing Terrageddon on an empty campus, we will track the satellite’s route and, hopefully, discover Ambrose’s location. Poland? Norway? Samoa? Ohio? Wherever.

We will find him. We will destroy him. We will… Well, we will save the world.

I, of course, discuss this idea with Laksa, and to my surprise and satisfaction, he agrees to participate without hesitation. He is willing to be the bait. I realize for certain that I am dealing with a person who is both extremely smart and extremely brave.

First, I ask Burbank to use his superior skills to tap into government travel databases. I know he can do that. He will create an entirely false flight to Peru, which will appear as completely booked to anyone else who might be trying to travel into the city. Then he will fabricate plane tickets in Laksa’s name and send them via email, where Ambrose will be sure to spot them.

Then I give Margo the task of writing bogus emails to be sent out as if they were actually written by Laksa. Margo has the creative skills to monitor Laksa’s old emails and then mimic his tone and style. The mix of phony emails filled with serious, official-sounding phrases, interspersed with ordinary everyday messages (“I am wondering if the antique Picasso lithograph is still available?”) will bemeticulously constructed so that it appears Laksa has no idea he is being monitored. I know Margo can do this.

It’s a very risky plan. My companions and I will have a very short time between the evacuation of the campus and Ambrose’s launch of the geological disaster. During that time, Burbank, with Jericho helping remotely from the UNC campus, must find and identify the specific satellite signal Ambrose uses to deploy Terrageddon, so that we can track his location. It could be coming from India or Indiana, China or Cheyenne, anywhere on earth—and maybe even beyond.

Now I know what Dache meant byhigh risk, high reward.Gotta go. Gotta do it.