Harlan understood. He was obsessed with the same conspiracy. It went by the code name Vortex, and it dated from the days of the top secret Bluestone Project. Bluestone was a clandestine government program that had been established in the latter half of the twentieth century to conduct research into the paranormal. At its height it had consisted of as many as three labs, possibly more. But the entire project had been shut down decades earlier, in the last century. The order had been given to destroy the labs and any records associated with them.

But it was impossible to conceal a secret as big and as dangerous as Bluestone forever. Over the years, rumors had circulated. Physical evidence in the form of objects infused with a lot of hot energy had surfaced. In the case of the tiny town of Fogg Lake in the Cascade mountains in Washington State, the DNA of an entire population had been changed, thanks to a disastrous explosion in the secret Bluestone lab that had been built in the nearby cave system.

The paranormal gases that had been released had blanketed the community in a strange mist. The locals had slept for two days. When they woke up they discovered that things had changed; they had changed. Some began seeing auras. Others had visions or developed uncanny abilities. The paranormal energy released in the explosion had awakened latent psychic talents. The new traits had proved to be inheritable.

“How did you do it?” Lucas prompted.

“How did I stay off your to-do list?” Harlan said. He crossed the room to stand at the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Las Vegas Strip. There was still some daylight in the desert sky—the real action wouldn’t start until night fell—but it was always midnight inside the casinos. “I used the same technique you’re using to conceal the Foundation here in Vegas. Closing down the Los Angeles operation and moving the headquarters here was a brilliant move, by the way. It’s the last place anyone would think to look for a government contractor devoted to paranormal research, investigation and security.”

Victor cranked back in the big leather chair. “You’re telling me you’ve been hiding in plain sight?”

“You could say that. I’ve also been doing a lot of traveling.”

“We sure as hell never figured you’d take a dead-end job in the federal government,” Victor said.

“Good benefits,” Harlan said.

Victor ignored that. “The position of director of the Agency for the Investigation of Atypical Phenomena has been empty for years. Decades, in fact.”

“And no one even noticed,” Lucas added dryly.