* * *
Dr. Samuel Dawson was in a half-filled hotel elevator on his way to his room on the eleventh floor. Out of curiosity, he took his glasses; slipped out the letter from an unsealed envelope addressed to Director Cutler. It read:
Dear Director Cutler,
Enclosed are the formulas and process to produce solid hydrogen molecules. I know you are aware of its benefits to humankind–-a cheap, clean, and an unlimited source of energy to power any engine. I give the technology through you for the people of the world.
The technology I give will justify the cost to build the Super Conducting Super Collider.
For reasons, I will keep my identity a secret and will call under the name Rebecca Smith two days from now. That will give you ample time to validate the equation's accuracy.
Until then.
Truly yours,
Rebecca
He read the short introduction of a half-inch thick document clipped together by a metal fastener. He scanned and snipped information within its pages with great interest. He gave a quick look at the supporting mathematical equations and was astounded. Deeply engrossed, he missed his floor twice and got out of the elevator on its way down again and hastily went to his room.
He placed the documents on the room’s table and cleared it of his things. Hastily, he grabbed a chair; sat; and started to leaf through the document’s pages. He paused, every now and then, and studied the supporting mathematical equations. He even did a few separate calculations with a pocket size scientific calculator he got from his attaché. An hour later, his pager beeped. He took the pager from his breast pocket and noted the telephone number displayed. He pondered for a few a moment. There was no reason to deal with the Russians and put himself in danger with what he had. He smashed the pager and with Lulu’s torn letter flushed them in the toilet. He made certain nothing was left of the pieces he threw so he watched everything get sucked-in into the toilet bowl. He flushed the toiled again for assurance then went back to the table and, with a pen, started to validate the equations by solving them himself.
At exactly 11 p.m., responding to a knock, Dr. Dawson stood and opened the door. FBI Agent Mark Triska's men barged in. He introduced himself, then read Dr. Dawson's rights while another agent cuffed him. He was led away as other agents searched the room.