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said.
    Harlow rushed out of the room, glad to finally be away from the corpse.
    He stopped and took a moment to compose himself. He was in a hallway which led to bathrooms and other bedrooms. The house was huge. He had heard a mob boss had once lived here.
    Harlow went down a flight of stairs to the main floor. Two guards stood on either side of the front door. They were wearing green camouflage fatigues with high-grade body armor. Helmets with attached radio headsets left only their faces exposed. They carried FN SCAR Mk 17 rifles.
    Harlow nodded politely to the men, and they nodded back.
    He continued walking through the spacious house. The front room had been converted to an office for Colonel Knox. The dining room was now a mess hall for the entire team, and at mealtimes, seating was in short supply. A downstairs guestroom had become a small datacenter. A study now served as an armory.
    Harlow went down another flight of stairs to the basement where he spent much of his time. The physics research was performed down here. He had lasers, ultrasensitive meters of all types, Geiger counters, and radio detectors. Ongoing experiments were performed on large steel tables with anchor holes in the surfaces. Recently installed LED panels provided plenty of bright light. The entire basement had been thoroughly scrubbed, but a few stains remained in the old concrete surfaces.
    Other scientists were working, and they looked at him curiously with unspoken questions. He was their boss.
    "We need to start building a robotic probe," Harlow said, "one capable of surviving extreme forces and intense radiation."
    "Will the portal take a robot?" a female scientist said.
    "We'll find out. If not, we'll put a guy in an armored spacesuit."
    "The portal might not like that either, sir."
    Harlow shrugged. "It's an experiment. I need twenty minutes alone please. Take a break."
    His colleagues left the basement.
    As soon as he was alone, he went to an electron microscope. It was an antiquated model with a big brass tube, and it probably weighed a hundred pounds. He opened a desk drawer, took out a small, velvet box, and opened it. The jewel box contained a badly tarnished, silver coin. Feathery wings were engraved on both sides. He placed the coin on the specimen holder inside the microscope.
    He turned on the vacuum pump which produced a soft humming noise. He shifted his weight impatiently while he waited for the air to be sucked out of the electron tube. He glanced at the stairs to make sure nobody was peeking into the basement.
    Finally, the machine was ready for use. Harlow turned the dials until the microscope was in a special configuration known only to him. An image appeared on the phosphor display. A cloud of dots formed an abstract face with circles for eyes and a straight line for a mouth.
    "Hello, Dr. Harlow," the face said. Its voice was an echoing, raspy whisper which was difficult to understand.
    Harlow checked the stairs again. He also looked around the basement to reconfirm he was alone.
    "Hello," he finally said. "I just saw Corporal Hartmann's body."
    "A regrettable death."
    "Do you know what happened to him?"
    "Of course I do," the face replied.
    "Will you tell me?"
    "No."
    Harlow clenched his jaw. "Why not? What are you hiding?"
    "I wouldn't want to deprive you of the thrill of scientific discovery. Proceed with your investigation as I have instructed."
    "The toll in human lives keeps rising. Three so far and counting."
    "Dr. Harlow," the face said, "don't try to make me feel guilty. You couldn't care less about the lives of others. Your callous, even sociopathic attitude is one reason you're in this most awkward situation and must do as I say."
    "That may be true, but dead bodies are a political problem. Rena Penn wants to shut down the program."
    "Then deal with her. Show some backbone for once. I suggest you hurry. Time is running short."
    "Why?" Harlow said. "What will happen?"
    "Your adversaries have become aroused. They