NA physics teacher Robert Bitler began writing his novel, Miracles, in November 2013 as part of National Novel Writing Month, and has worked on it steadily ever since, finishing the final chapters this summer. Enjoy this physics thriller!
MIRACLES
Chapter One – Illumined
He was only in his fifties, but he was feeling old. His joints hurt – no doubt from the heady pickup football game he’d played earlier with his boisterous and hard-hitting nephews; his tightened and unstretched muscles caused him to walk with a slight limp. He knew he was already in the second half of the grand play of life, and he wondered if he would accomplish even a quarter of the things he had set out to do as a young man. He thought of the quantum illuminator inside, and smiled: But still – maybe – the Nobel Prize I always dreamed of! He laughed at his own hubris, and grinned broadly – thinking about how a Nobel – if won – might play out with all his friends and associates from over the years. Some would be desperately envious (and he pitied those), but his true friends, of which he had a great many, would be genuinely happy for him. And if it happened, they would all laugh and party and dance until the wee hours in the back streets of Oslo and get drunk – happy drunk – and his wife would smile and laugh and tell her father that she had chosen well after all. But still he knew, deep down in his bones, that there were things far more important and far more real than some prize and the concomitant adulation of the world. He had already lived several lifetimes – and done many, many things; there was not much left that could excite him – either about humanity or about the world – or so he thought…
The university parking lot was deserted, and there was no sign of security. He crossed it, and looked up to see the powerful outline of the Rocky Mountains in the distance; it felt good to breathe in the cooler evening air. He fumbled with his keys, and opened up the door to the physics building. Once inside, he turned on the stairway lights, and headed downward to his lab, a full three stories below ground level. He opened the door to the sub-sub basement with another key, and flicked on the lights. But nothing happened. They did not work. He looked around behind himself, and saw that the stairway lights were now off as well. He swore, and groped around in the darkness, trying to locate the main lab counter which he knew stretched out to the left in front of him. He touched it, and used the edge of the counter to guide him toward the far side of the lab, where the illuminator apparatus lay. He had forgotten his notepad, with its never-ending list of all the things he was supposed to be working on – and had come to retrieve it. He reached the end of the counter, and came to the open space in front of the illuminator table – which itself stretched across the back of the lab. He was making his way along that second table, when he heard it, a slight hum from the illuminator. Startled, he took in a sharp breath. His pulse quickened in anger. It’s not supposed to be hooked up to the grid yet; we had an agreement… Still, none of the running lights or instruments were lit. Maybe it’s connected but not turned on. Why would they do that? We had an agreement! At the end of the table he found and grabbed his notepad, and then began to make his way back. The slight hum of the illuminator disturbed him. He paused, and raised his hand to its side. He caressed the sleek metallic shell of the illuminator’s containment unit, and as his eyes had adjusted more to the dark, he thought he could just make out the outline of the giant blue cube which they’d affixed to the top of the machine. When they finally turned it on, the light from that cube would give them their first inkling of whether or not they had made a fundamental breakthrough in the understanding of the universe. His hand was rising toward the cube on top when the hum suddenly increased in pitch and volume, and then, the cube lit up with such a blaze of deep iridescent blue light that for a moment, he could see everything in the lab. Stunned – he fell backward onto the floor; he heard himself yell out, and then all was dark…
He opened his eyes to see a flashlight shining into his eyes. Behind the light, he could just make out the profile of Jimmy Sage, physics building security guard.
“You took a mean one, Pete… That bump on your head’s gonna need an whole icebox full of ice…”
Peter Schönbaum tried to lift his head, but as he did, a wave a nausea rippled through his middle.
Jimmy laughed. “Here, Sir, let me help you up. Try not to move your head too much.”
Peter’s head throbbed, where he had apparently hit hard. He tried not to puke. “The light,” Jimmy, “was the light on when you came in!?”
“There’s no light in here, Mr. Schönbaum . The whole university’s gone dark. No electricity anywhere – all the way to Cheyenne, they’re sayin’…”
Pete put his arm around Jimmy’s shoulders and started to limp out of the lab… “But that’s impossible, Jimmy, that’s impossible.”
Jimmy laughed again. “Well – nuthin’ in this world is truly impossible, Mr. Schönbaum , now is it…?”
Chapter Two – Sweet, Sweet Love
The two of them ran up over the crest of a small forested hillock, sweating, both seriously out-of-breath, as they had raced each other at top speed from the car down at the beginning of the trail, over a mile back. They stopped and gulped down lungfuls of warm air. Jason was bent over with his hands on his hurting sides – but still had his eyes on the incredible view. For before them stretched a vista that had captivated both Native and newcomer Americans alike throughout all of American history. In the distance, the Grand Tetons rose up ahead of them, like towering behemoths gathering their strength for a fight, and just in front of them, down the other side of the hillock, a vigorous steel blue river washed down from the hills to their right into a thin but sparkling crystally lake, spreading toward the horizon on the left. Ahead lay a wooden bridge. They smiled and laughed, then raced down the other side of the hillock and over the bridge, as they prepared to tackle the steep uprise in the trail, and the looming mountain which lay before them. But once across, they turned momentarily and looked back at the river and the huge amounts of glistening cold water pouring down from the mountains. Jason put his hands around his girlfriend’s waist, and kissed her on the nape of her perspiring neck. Jenny didn’t move, but smiled, enjoying her boyfriend’s attentions. She turned and pressed her lips into his, passionately, and for a moment, it was unclear whether they would even continue onward along the trail. But she broke away, laughing, and he ran after her, and together they started the climb up toward the meadows along the sides of the foothills of Grand Teton itself, the tallest of all the Tetons. They climbed steadily during the day, stopping only to have lunch along another, but lighter, opal blue mountain stream. They drank copiously from the creek, unworried about contamination, in all their bountiful and youthful infallibility. In the afternoon, they slowed down a bit, until late in the day, when tired, they came to their intended destination – a small shelter built along the slope, in a meadow above an aqua blue glacial lake.
To their keen disappointment, a man was camping there with his two sons. – He waved, and they waved back. He offered them dinner, but they politely declined. And so they hiked sideways along the slope of the lake, off the trail, and came to a flatter area along the slope, around the bend, and with a stunning view of the lake and of the forests of Wyoming, stretching out to the horizon. Lights in towns had just started coming on, and the moon was already low in the sky. A lone bright star, which they knew to be Venus, had befriended the moon, and hovered there close. They spread out their blankets, one to lie on and one to cover them with. But it was still hot, and a delicious cool zephyr had just come up from around the bend of the mountain slope – so they threw off the top blanket. And there, nature took its way, and they laughed and caressed and kissed, and cast off their clothes, and made wild, carefree love in the midst of the evening meadow. Out-of-breath, sweaty and sated, they held each other tightly into the nightfall. Jenny pointed out some of the constellations to Jason, and Jason talked about what other civilizations around other stars might be doing. They laughed and let their imaginations run wild – and then the talk turned to their dreams and aspirations. Jenny spoke about becoming a world class journalist, and Jason talked about becoming a renowned physics professor – and maybe even one with a Nobel prize in his back pocket – thanks to his collaboration with Peter Schönbaum. The world seemed expectant with possibilities and hope…
They made love once more – more relaxed and sensual this time – and eventually pulled the second blanket over them, falling into a deep and heavenly sleep. And for both of them, in that magnificent moment in a magnificent summer, all in the world seemed impossibly good and right…
Chapter Three – Inauguration
It was Independence Day weekend, and they had all put aside their barbecues and their families and their weekends away to gather together for the dénouement of two and a half years of incredibly hard scientific and engineering work. Peter Schönbaum looked around. The whole team but one was there in the lab: Jason stood by his side, his experimental physics collaborator and the project coordinator, along with his girlfriend Jenny; there was also Nina Zherabova, their shy and reclusive Russian quantum mathematician mastermind, and Lucas Drimich, Serbian computer and techno guru. Abuluwayo Fandwaré, their master engineer, was in France, designing a second illuminator with one of their precious and way-too-expensive quantum kernels, preparing for their upcoming global physics conference in Paris – where they hoped to bedazzle the world with their revolutionary new discoveries. Peter wished Abu could have been here instead, but their schedules and the team’s plans had not worked out well. As they rarely ever do…
The stress. So much toil and effort, and it all comes down to this one defining moment. Succeed or fail – that is the way of life. Peter put his arm around his wife, Marisako, who had come in to lend him moral and emotional support. He tickled her playfully on the waist, just to let her know how much he appreciated her presence. She wiggled and smiled – and turned and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Go get ‘em, Tiger!” she whispered in his ear.
Dismayingly, Jules Lindhammer, the chairman of the physics department had shown up, completely uninvited, to get her irrepressibly unctuous and busybody nose into what was going on. And finally, their way-too-earnest but extremely loyal physics freshman, their lab boy Arnie-from-Wyoming, whom they affectionately called Dip, was helping them with all the gruntwork.
Peter laughed contentedly to himself. A religious man he was, and he had learnt a long, long time ago not to bank on human endeavors (including most especially his own), but rather to align himself in the divine way of things and to abide and have faith in the promise and immeasurable joy of that. He wanted the project to succeed of course, but he could sense and appreciate the profound Godly striving of it all – regardless of outcome – that inimitable quest for that which is greater than the mundane daily activities and concerns of life – and that which is above and beyond and more beautiful and magnificent than that to which our ordinary and self-centered human desires lead. And indeed, in his life, a great many of the good and unselfish things he had ever prayed for had somehow come to pass, in ways he could never have remotely imagined, and as was his wont, he said a short and silent prayer as they began to hook up the machine. Whatever is best, whatever is truly best…”
He and Marisako had arrived only minutes before, and he tried to take everything in and get his mind organized. Nina was tucked away in the far corner, her eyes wide – just staring. He knew how horribly hard it was for her to be here, as she was almost pathologically introverted. Up in her lair – as he liked to call it – her penthouse office on the top floor of the math tower – surrounded by books and computers and a view she almost never looked at – she had miraculously managed to parse the incredibly difficult imaginary number Fourierenesque transforms in infinite-dimensional vector Hilbert space necessary to the successful design of the kernel. Peter’s own advanced math skills were strong – but he had been amazed at the several leaps in understanding which seemed to come so easily to her – and indeed, he still did not (and perhaps would never) understand part of what she had managed to do. Lucas had come, surprisingly by himself, without his usual floosy one-week girl at his elbow. He will likely be a playboy all his life, thought Peter. Sad. He could see that Jason had already completed the connections to the kernel circuitry, and they were waiting for the rest of the illuminator to warm up and establish connections with the kernel. Of course, though, it wasn’t really warming up. It was inducing a larger than normal reservoir of uncollapsed and interfering quantum wave functions – the possibility waves that, every physics major knew, seek out all possible futures in the universe. Schrödinger’s cat – still half dead and half alive, down there in the kernel! And there was much more to the kernel – the heart of the device as it were – for the illuminator kernel could, without direct measurements (which would of course collapse the wave functions), make a determination, through an incredibly complex statistical and electronic quantum application of Bell’s theorem, of whether or not there were ‘unlikely’ disturbances in the distribution of all wave functions out to a distance of about ten miles (they had calculated) in every direction. And it could locate and record those disturbances. THIS was a physics first. To get an idea, indirect though it were, of the statistical nature of quantum possibility wave functions themselves, before their collapse into the reality we all see around us. We are making scientific and physics history. We are finding out much, much more about the true nature of what is behind reality – before it even becomes reality. What might we discover? Peter himself had wondered for a very, very long time – ever since he was a young buck physics student and learned about the strange and hard-to-believe quantum underpinnings of the universe…
He and Marisako had brought a fine bottle of champagne, a gift from a Spanish friend who had once visited the très jolis chateaux along the Loire Valley, and he helped his wife hand out plastic glasses and pour champagne into each one. Dip was only nineteen, but they gave him a glass anyway. Dip grinned, and Peter winked at him. Dip had enthusiastically wrangled his way into the project by annoying Peter in his university office every single day until he had finally given in.
Lights on the control panels were lit, and Jason and Lucas signaled him that the kernel was indeed operational and properly interfaced with the illuminator.
Peter stepped forward, pushing past the department chair, a woman for whom he had almost no respect, and gently brought Marisako by the elbow with him. They stood in front of the massive illuminator apparatus, with the others standing in various positions around the fortified lab table on which it sat.
He raised his glass: “Well, ladies and gentlemen of this august group, this fellowship of the illuminator – we have come a long way since Jason and I put forward this new theory, and Nina figured out the solutions to the equations we proposed, and Lucas and Abu built this incredible machine. We are exploring new territory in mankind’s understanding of the universe – and perhaps extraordinarily deep new territory. If successful, we do not know where it will lead. I hope fervently, as I know you all do, that whatever we discover be used in the future for the good and for the right, and not for the bad and the evil and that which corrupts and destroys, and that we embark here on a new era in our ability to understand the magnificence and complexity of the universe into which we were born and out of which we developed. I would like to thank all of you, from the bottom of my heart, for your patience and endurance, for your forebearance, given all my own many personal shortcomings and failings. And I would like to especially thank my dear wife, Marisako, who has stood by me for decades through good times and ill, and who took the immense risk of living life joined with me. She is truly my better half.” And he looked around at each of them, and raised his glass even higher up. “To forge unafraid and unabashed into the unknown!” And they raised and clinked their glasses, and downed the champagne, and with the resulting incipient buzz creeping into in their minds, Peter signaled Dip, for the first time ever, to throw the illuminator switch and to turn the quantum device on…
Chapter Four – Asian Devil
Dip the lab boy flipped the switch and turned on the illuminator for the first time. Or is it the first time? Peter queried himself. What the hell happened that night I banged my head in the lab? Did I imagine that?
The illuminator began to hum. Lucas yelled for someone to turn off the lights in the lab – and Jules Lindhammer actually got up from her chair and went over to do that. They all stood transfixed in the darkness in front of the giant blue cube on top of the machine. Their eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. A very very dim black/blue glow started to emanate from the cube. Am I seeing things? His wife took his hand. He squeezed hers. And then little evanescent sparkling pinpoints of bright blue light – tinged with other colors – started to dot the interior of the cube. The whole cube took on a muted deep blue glow. Here and there a little swirl of light – electronic tadpoles here and there – swam in the cube. A huge cheer broke out in the lab. It’s working! Everyone in the lab started talking excitedly.
“Turn the lights back on!,” Peter shouted. “Let’s make sure we’re recording – and let’s adjust the bandwidth and up the power a bit…”
The lights came on.
And then – shock! …. There was a frightened moment of disbelief – and a muted gasp went up from everyone in the room…
For standing in front of the machine, out in front of Peter and his wife, was a man holding a pistol.
Peter yelled: “Get down!”
Everyone dropped. He pulled Marisako all the way to the floor and tried to shield her with his body, as they were but a few feet in front of the gunman. Peter could feel his heart thumping powerfully in his chest. He glanced up – his whole mind and body on high alert. The man was Asian – but not – he thought, Chinese. Was he Japanese? He had a toned, well-defined body, straight and muscular – he looked limber. Maybe around 24 or 25 years old. Peter could see from his stance that he had balance. He was obviously comfortable holding the gun. What was it? A Glock. It’s a Glock 39, just like mine… Damn! The university is a gun-free zone. The PC types think they’re smart by making themselves defenseless… Damn it to hell! To keep his job, they had always forced him to leave his own gun in the glove box of his car.
The man aggressively waved the gun in a broad sweep down and toward them all, and away from the machine. He looked down at Peter, and from the floor, Peter locked eyes with him. Peter was startled to see that he had bright, almost unnaturally limpid sky blue eyes. The eyes made him seem – different – unusual…
“Nobody move,” said the man. “Move and I will take you down.” The man spoke in almost perfect English, but had a trace of a strange accent; it was difficult to place…
Straight ahead of Peter were the man’s feet. He thought: I could sweep his feet aside, and he would fall. He started to tense his right arm, but Marisako put her hand on it. He twitched it, so she would know to let go. She looked at him. “Wait,” her eyes said.
Without warning, the man spun around 180 degrees and shot a bullet into the heart of the illuminator.
Damn! thought Peter.
A few sparkles were still visible in the cube, even with the lights on. The man shot again into the machine – then turned around. “Where is the kernel?” he demanded.
“Go to hell, you lunatic!” It was Jenny, Jason’s girlfriend; she was standing up. No, Jenny, don’t! thought Peter. Don’t do the crazy thing right now…
The man turned around and fired a shot, which just missed Jenny’s arm. Jason jumped up in front of her to protect his girlfriend.
The man said to Jason, “Take her back down. Now!”
Jason spoke to Jenny, his voice ultra tense: “You need to get down. He will kill us.” And he started to pull her to the floor.
But she resisted, in her temper, pulling free from Jason’s grasp. “You have no right to do this!” she shouted. “What’s wrong with you?!”
The man walked closer to the two of them. Jason grabbed Jenny around her waist and put a great deal of force on her, bringing her to her knees.
The man pointed the gun at them, and Peter could feel Marisako tense.
But then – thankfully – the gunman hesitated, concentrating. A faraway look came over him. “Do not worry,” he said abruptly. “I will not harm the baby.”
Jenny’s face contorted in alarm; Jason thought: What baby?!?
Looking at Jenny, the gunman said: “But I will disable your boyfriend if necessary – with a bullet. If you care about him, you will get down onto the floor – now!!!” And he shouted the last word with such preternatural vehemence and force and such an imposition of will that Jenny fell to the floor, with Jason putting his arms around her and holding her down tight with his body. Peter could hear Jenny starting to cry…
The gunman turned again and shot more bullets into the illuminator. He ejected the ammo cartridge and replaced it with one from his belt, with practiced and almost blinding speed.
Peter moved his eyes to look at his wife again – his other half of over twenty-seven years. She looked into his eyes. Both knew he had to address the gunman. If he intended to kill them, they would have to act first – and they did not know what his intentions were. Marisako was not the kind to be afraid, and she also knew with no doubt that her husband would not easily let someone take their lives – and that he had the courage and will to act. She had seen Peter do things in her life – tough and dangerous things – and she knew what he was capable of if pushed. She looked at him, and silently mouthed the words – for the second time that day: “Go get ‘em, Tiger…”
Peter nodded, and then spoke out in a soft and gentle and comforting tone: “I will show you where the kernel is, if you let me up.”
The man looked down at him.
Peter had already moved into what he called acting mode. He would first try to convince the gunman that he was older and more frail than he actually was.
Slowly, with his hands in the air, he pulled his legs up under himself, and haltingly stood up. He groaned a little, as if his legs hurt. He didn’t stand all the way, but stooped his back just a bit. His heart was racing, and he could feel the mind-clearing and body-tensing effects of the adrenaline pumping through his arteries. The hormone caused time to slow down, and while portraying himself to be a feeble old man, he was readying himself to pounce. I must choose my moment perfectly; I will only have one chance. A long, long time ago, in another life, he had once been trained – over and over, and over and over – on how to disarm an opponent, as well as how to cripple or kill a man. He had not forgotten anything – but he knew also that he was long out of practice.
“The kernel is directly underneath the center of the cube,” he said truthfully and softly – not wanting a massacre if the man found out he’d been lied to – and he pointed to a spot on the illuminator casing.
The man turned to fire a close-range shot right there, where Peter had pointed, and as he was about to shoot the bullet, Peter’s right arm shot forward and grabbed the man’s gun hand, swinging it toward the left part of the device. He dug his thumb into the front part of the membrane that runs from the index finger back to the thumb. He knew the man would be experiencing intense pain, and he expected the man to drop the gun, but – he did not. The man pushed his hand back to the same position as the spot Peter had indicated, so rapidly and with such a great amount of force as to catch Peter by surprise, and blasted another hole in the illuminator. The sparkles in the cube immediately disappeared.
Peter, who was now behind him, brought up his right foot and slammed it with all his force into the man’s knee joint from behind. As the man’s leg crumpled, and with all the strength he could muster, Peter banged the man’s hand into the side of the illuminator. The gun dropped. Both men reached downward to retrieve it. Peter, knowing it would drop, caught it in mid air. But as he was securing his grip on it, the man leapt like a frog up onto the counters and started to run across them. Peter brought the gun up to bear. His deep Christian thought process and faith limited his action; I am no longer acting in self-defense; I cannot kill him. Reflexively, he brought the gun down just a trifle, and aiming through the two small open sights on top, shot into the man’s leg, just as he was across the second lab table. Blood spurted out of the man’s thigh and sprayed across the tables. The man yelped and leapt onto the floor and right through the open door to the stairwell. Peter was right behind him – also now up on the tables, with the gun. The man started to race up the stairwell, as Peter leapt across the tables. A few moments later, Peter hit the stairwell, and pumped right up the stairs taking four steps at a time. His foot slipped once on the bloody stairs, and he banged the edge of his left hand hard into the edge of a stair; he thought he heard bones crack and he winced.
At the top of the stairs, he saw the man running across the parking lot toward the woods. Peter’s heart was hammering, and he was already out-of-breath from the stairs, but he took off after the man with everything he had.
The man was lithe, and even with blood running down his leg, and with a bullet in it, and with a pronounced limp, the man ran gracefully and fast. Peter couldn’t believe it. He leveled the gun and shot again; he heard the man cry out, but did not know where or whether he’d hit him. Whatever happened, it didn’t slow him down much. An middle-aged man vs. a shot man – who will win this?
The man took the downslope, toward the river that ran along the back edge of the campus and into the woods. He was now far enough away that Peter knew he would not have a good shot – especially since his body was heaving from heavy breathing. The man was bounding over rocks and logs and branches, with Peter maybe fifty yards behind him. When the man came to the vertical embankment above the rushing water, he jumped in, and disappeared under it. The current was moving swiftly, and Peter immediately changed course before the water’s edge to run along with the flow. Damn it! Damn it! He could be holding himself under the water, he could be swimming across or staying on this side to hide himself under the bank. But he can’t stay down long; he must have been breathing very, very hard. Peter loped along the bank of the river – trying to catch his breath a little, and wiping sweat from his eyes – scanning up and down and up and down – but there was nothing. Had he died? Peter didn’t think so. Someone shouted behind him. It was Jason, who’d run after the two of them…
“I’ll go twice as far downstream as you Peter,” and Jason took off ahead of him – also scanning the waters.
And then they saw him. He burst up out of the water on the other side, just downstream a bit from where they were. Peter fired another couple of shots – at his legs – but apparently missed. The man scampered up onto the rocky river bank, loped into the forest on the other side, and toward the steep incline rising up from the edge of the university property.
Peter ordered Jason: “Go back and make sure everyone’s safe. Call the police immediately. Tell them to bring the hounds…”
And with that, Peter dove into the waters. He broke into a trudgeon crawl, a free style stroke with a scissors kick – the very fastest way he knew how to swim. But holding the gun impaired his speed, since he could not pull at the water with one hand – and his other hand hurt like hell. He was across the water in a minute or two, and he came out very close to where the man had. There were splashes of fresh blood along the side of the river. He followed them. His anger and his outrage powered him. I’ve got you now, you motherfucker… I will get you. You are going to bleed out like a deer. The blood trail moved in curious directions, zigzagging first to the right and then to the left. What is he trying to do? It then curved toward the steep slope that went up toward the summit of the little mountain that bordered the university. He started the climb, looking both forward, and downward at the blood trail.
The brush became thicker, and the man had apparently crawled through it, judging from the crushed greenery. He did the same – but constantly looking ahead – always wary of an ambush. In one place, there was a little pool of blood. He thought: Good, you are losing force…
He came out of the brush, and looked up the steep slope, through the trees. To his amazement, he caught a glimpse of the man – up to his right along the incline. Peter still held the gun. He tried to fire another shot – but there were no more bullets in the cartridge. He threw the gun back behind him, and purposefully hyperventilating, started the steeper climb. He was pouring out sweat, and his heart and lungs were laboring.
He could see the man also climbing now, but he was slowing. It’s about time; I will get you. The man disappeared behind a giant clump of dark green mountain laurel – forest rhododendrons.
A minute later, Peter was at the clump – but he could not see the man. The blood trail went into the side of the towering clump of laurel. So – it comes to this. He eyed his possibilities. Going around would be better, he thought – for he would know whether the man was in the clump or not. He was not going to follow him in. He started circling the clump, and an arm shot out from beneath it, pulling his legs out from under him.
Peter crashed to the ground, and the man was on top of him in a flash – like a crazed monkey – and slammed his fist into Peter’s face. Peter’s head hit the ground, and he felt the blow rattle his head. He thrust his right hand into the man’s neck, and then pushed farther with all his might. It IS self-defense now, you bastard… No holds barred…
The man’s head snapped back, and Peter mashed his thumb into the man’s trachea. The man’s head flipped backward in pain. But before Peter could crush his windpipe, the man brought his knee up into Peter’s crotch – like a sledgehammer. Peter involuntarily let go, as his body curled sideways in an atomic explosion of intense, unremitting pain… He could see stars around his head – a sign, he knew – that he was about to lose consciousness. He groaned. The man put his face down near Peter’s face. Just before Peter blacked out, he thought he heard the man rasp:
“You are a decent man, Peter Schönbaum – but you do not know what you are doing.”
And the man’s face pulled away, and he thought he could hear him trudging off into the forest.
And then Peter Schönbaum, for the second time in a month, but this time with his body wracked in almost unbearable agony, fell into unconsciousness.
Chapter Five – The African Connection
Abuluwayo Fandwaré – or Abu – as everyone insisted on calling him – had stopped for a moment in the hoary dusk, and stared down at the breeze-ripped waters of the River Seine, from above on a stone bridge that connected downtown Paris to the Quartier Saint-Germain-des-Prés. A tourist boat, full of Americans and Japanese (and now Chinese, he corrected himself), with all their cameras and cell phones, and binoculars and Ipads and Ifads, slid noisily beneath him. To his left, half way to the horizon, he could see the magnificent spires of Notre Dame rise up from the otherwise height-regulated appartements and ateliers of one of the most beautiful cities in the world.
He looked down at his phone, and read the cryptic message from Marisako once more:
Abu – We have been attacked by a foreign agent. The primary illuminator was working! – but was destroyed by the agent. Peter is injured in the hospital – but will be OK. You must take your kernel and flee to a secret and safe destination at once. Do not hesitate. Tell no one. Contact us when you can. Go! Much love, Marisako
Alarmed, surprised and confused – he had messaged back for clarifications, but Marisako had not responded. He had called other members of the team, but apparently, all their phones were off. A security precaution no doubt…
He’d been laughing and hitting it off in a bar with a svelte Swedish woman he’d recently met, but had had to excuse himself and break the date short when the message came through. She was a beauty, and quite properly upset at his abrupt leaving, and the thought of abandoning his evening plans and angering his date had made him especially grumpy. But as he had half-jogged, half-run back to his apartment, he’d become more and more distressed. Someone is trying to destroy the illuminator project! It’s no secret that I’m here with one of the kernels.
Once back at his apartment, he’d packed a light bag, with one change of clothes, his toothbrush, his razor, and all his microelectronics. He’d removed the kernel from its case, carefully – knowing its worth – and put it into a backpack he used for traveling. He’d left the apartment in a rush, but in a bout of habit, had checked his mailbox in the main hallway. He ‘d been surprised when there was no mail. That was extremely unusual. Had someone else retrieved it? He’d decided right at that moment to really hustle.
He’d gone out through the back door, across the street, and straight through the next building, before he exited one street over. He’d immediately taken a taxi into another quartier of the city, and had carefully watched to make sure he was not being followed. Once let off – he’d turned and walked in the general direction of the Gare du Nord – Paris’ most famous train station. He had already ruled out the airports – because their computers were easy to hack and monitor by outside agencies, he knew – and everyone’s name was put into their computer systems. He’d suspected the train registries could be easily hacked as well. Which meant, he decided, that he would have to take out some cash at an ATM – not near the train station – and use it to buy his train ticket – anonymously. He’d known where he would go. He’d stopped in an internet bar to use the web, rather than his phone, which he had also now turned off, and checked on train tickets to Marseilles. There would not be a train until 2am in the morning – which meant now that had five hours to kill. He would not wait at the train station – just in case…
And so now he was standing – with his precious backpack and his little bag – on a bridge overlooking the River Seine. He wondered who was behind the attack in Colorado. Crazed scientific competitors – a corporation that feels threatened – or something national and big – like the Chinese… or the Russians…? He had to think. Who the hell would be interested in destroying the illuminator? He noticed a man in a dark shirt hovering near the embankment; the man looked up at him.
It is time to go; to disappear.
Chapter Six – The Women
Jenny sat in a chair, and Marisako hovered over Peter, who was in a hospitable bed, still knocked out, following a double operation for broken bones in his wrist and his face. Marisako surveyed the damage to her husband. She asked Jenny to turn away, and then lifted the bed sheet to replace the salve-soaked bandages to her husband’s bruised and swollen private area. She was furious beyond belief. But she was intensely analytical, and she knew it was extremely significant that the terrorist – as she called him – had not killed anyone. He could have killed us all. But he did not. And Peter Schönbaum, she knew very, very well, was not a man to be trifled with – yet she also sensed that the gunman could probably have easily murdered her husband. A shiver went down her spine. The terrorist was no ordinary man. Who hired him? Where did he come from? How did he even know about the illuminator project?
She looked over at Jenny, who sat slumped in her chair.
“Thank you for coming in, Jenny,” she said. “You’re very sweet.”
Jenny nodded. “I’m glad Peter’s doing better,” she said. “Jason’s helping the police scour the lab for clues, and he’s trying to see if the illuminator can be salvaged. Thank God there’s an extra…”
Marisako nodded. Two extra, actually… She looked at Jenny, who looked extremely forlorn. “You’re pregnant,” Marisako said softly.
Jenny looked up in alarm. “How do you know? I can’t be showing.”
Marisako smiled. “Most all women can tell. There’s something that changes – with your complexion and your color and your face. There’s a ‘glow.’ Some men can tell as well – but not so many at this stage… It seems like that foreign devil knew.”
Jenny cried out: “I don’t know how it happened, Marisako! I’ve been on the pill for ages!”
Marisako frowned. “The pill is an unnatural dose of extremely potent artificial hormones – meant to override and hijack the normal functioning of your reproductive system – and it is linked to cancer… It can do bad things to your body – and it does not always work.”
Jenny stood up and walked over to Marisako. She gently took Marisako’s hand. “I know this is particularly painful for you, Marisako, with all your history – but I might as well tell you: I’m not having this baby.”
Marisako’s face fell with extreme sadness. “Why not?” she asked softly.
Jenny hesitated – for several moments – struggling for composure. “Jason does not want kids; he never did.”
“But you love each other, right – and want to spend your lives together?” asked Marisako.
“We do – but he does not want children. He’s made that clear to me ever since we started – you know…”
“But the child is the fruit of your love,” said Marisako – “a gift.”
Jenny’s eyes teared. “If I have the child, I will lose Jason,” she whispered.
Marisako put her arm around Jenny, and did not say anything more. Lose the boyfriend and the father or lose your child. How cruel.
Jenny tried to change the subject: “Did they catch the agent?”
Marisako nodded her head. “Yes. They chased him with hounds until he dropped. He had a ten mile head start. He went twenty-five miles before he fell. He is in the hospital by the university – then he’ll be tried.”
Jenny clenched her mouth. “I’m going to meet him,” she said with resolve. “I want to be journalist one day, and this is the biggest story I’ve ever been involved with. – It’s already in all the newspapers. I’m going to see if I can get an exclusive with the Denver Post. I think I can get it. I was there…”
Marisako looked discomfited. “He is a very dangerous and very strong man. And you must be extremely careful to not reveal to him anything at all about the other kernels. Absolutely nothing at all…”
Jenny nodded, sensing that Marisako did not have complete confidence in her. She wanted to earn Marisako’s trust – and indeed – Marisako was the sort of woman Jenny hoped one day to become: feminine, ladylike, a good and loyal wife to Peter – yet strong and smart and able in her own womanly way.
They heard a groan. Peter was waking up… He opened his eyes, and saw the two women standing there over him. There were bandages on the right side of his face, and down his arm and over his wrist. He felt pain in his face, in his wrist and in his groin.
His mind was still clouded from the anesthesia, and his mouth was parched. “Did they catch him?” he croaked.
Marisako nodded in the affirmative. “How are you doing?”
“We need to find out who he works for.”
“We’re going to,” said Jenny.
Peter tried to swallow, but there was no saliva in his mouth. “In the meantime,” he whispered hoarsely, “we need to stay safe. We need to be very careful. I don’t think we can stay here.”
Marisako nodded again. “The cabin?” she asked.
Peter tried to smile. “Exactly. It’s far and it’s isolated – and almost no one knows it exists.”
And then suddenly Peter’s eyes rolled up and he nodded back off into artificial anesthesia dreamland.
Marisako caressed her husband’s forehead. “Let’s get ‘em, Tiger…”
Chapter Seven – The Asian Agent
The Asian agent was bent over, wracked in pain. He’d taken two shots to his leg, and the operation had involved an artificial tendon graft. He could barely move the leg, and when he did, the discomfort was overwhelming; they had not provided him any painkillers. He was in a jail cell now, behind the police building next to the university. There was a sink and a toilet and a bed – and a tiny barred window out to the back of the building. It was morning; he had slept through the night.
Still, he was content. He had done what was expected of him. He had set into motion things which needed to be set into motion. Of course – he did not fully understand what all of those things were. But he was smart enough – and he was very smart – to understand the general gist of why such needed to be so. He regretted that he had harmed Peter Schönbaum. He had not suspected the man’s skills or incredible endurance and tenacity.
The Asian turned away from the little window and sat down on his bed. He winced as he moved and straightened out his leg. He knew he had to exercise it. He steeled himself mentally for the second part of his objective. He could already hear Jenny speaking to the policeman at the desk around the corner in the hallway. He tried to clear his mind, to remember carefully what it was he had to do. Then – he would be free – free to escape this cell and to return to his former – and completely different – way of life…
He watched as she and two policemen walked down the hall. One drew his gun, and told him to stay where he was. The door was unlocked, and Jenny allowed to step in with a folding chair. The first policeman locked the door behind her, keeping his gun out, and both stood just outside the cell. It was against police policy to allow a citizen to sit with a dangerous criminal – but both the Denver Post and this woman had insisted upon it. She had willingly signed papers absolving the police of any responsibility. She wanted to get the story, and that meant getting up close and personal with this cretin.
Jenny unfolded the chair and sat down.
“You know who I am?”
The Asian man nodded. “I remember you.”
“I’m just going to take a few minutes of your time. If you cooperate, such will be noted on your pre-trial record.”
The Asian man’s lips turned upward into a craggly smile; she noted that he had not had braces.
He is so insolent! Jenny forged ahead. She wanted desperately to break new news – and – she also personally wanted to know if Jason and the team were still in danger. She saw the interview as a win/win.
“Why did you destroy the illuminator?” she queried.
The man looked up and straight at her. She was discomfited once again by his oddly bright blue eyes.
“You are fiddling with things and with knowledge you were not meant to have – and which could have horrific consequences. You assume that more knowledge is automatically better; that is an unwise assumption.”
Jenny was taken aback; she certainly had not expected that. She wanted to bring the man out… “What types of ‘horrific consequences’?” she asked.
The man reflected for a moment. “I do not believe you are equipped to understand.”
“Try me!” she shot back.
“You would be giving impetus to the forces of evil in this world.”
“Hah!” she exclaimed. “You do not think it is evil to shoot people, destroy their work, and then to beat up a decent and good man?!?”
The man laughed outright, which infuriated her even more. “I did not try to shoot anyone, and I didn’t. Rather, I was shot. Twice.”
Jenny felt her blood boil. “You assaulted a man,” she hissed.
“I was acting in self-defense. He was trying to kill me.”
Jenny took a breath, reminding herself that a professional journalist should try not to become emotionally overtaken.
“Please explain what evil it is you fear from the illuminator.”
The man looked up again. Jenny thought: The eyes are not only blue; they are piercing.
He spoke: “All throughout history, man tries to alter his world through science and invention. Sometimes those alterations result in great good; sometimes they result in great evil. They very often magnify good and evil. Sometimes those alterations are done even in the name of great evil – but more often than not, they are done in the giant hubris that good and evil do not exist, and that acquisition of knowledge – of any sort – must be good in and of itself. That is an obvious lie.”
Jenny wasn’t sure what to make of his little speech. She wondered if he were part of a cult. “Are you against science?” asked Jenny. “Is that what this is about?”
“No,” said the man. “I am against evil.”
“As you define it…”
The man laughed again. “Are there not things you believe evil?”
“Of course,” answered Jenny.
“And are you not opposed to them?”
“Of course I am,” she replied.
“Then we are the same boat in that regard, are we not?” he asked.
Jenny could see the trap she had fallen into. “Then what evil is it that you fear from the illuminator?”
The man lowered his voice, and looked straight and piercingly into her eyes: “It is a soul-wrecker…”
For a long moment, Jenny did not know what to say. She felt chilled; his response unnerved her.
“It’s just a physics device,” she protested softly…
“Do you believe that you have a soul?”
Again, Jenny did not know what to say. She muttered: “I’m not religious, but I believe in spirituality.”
The man laughed, angering her. “Spirituality arising from what?”
She was stumped. She mumbled: “I have spiritual feelings.”
“So your spirituality is basically your feelings.”
“No!” she cried out vehemently, without thinking. “It’s not just my feelings. I think there is more, deeper down; things we don’t understand. There is… something… behind all of this…” And she waved her hand abstractly across the room…
The man smiled and winced, all at the same time. “You are honest, Jenny Barkley! And your son is growing well. Take care of him. Decide what his name is. That’s all I have to say.”
Jenny’s anger rose up again. How would he know if I have a son?!? “ You are a sick, sick man. I can’t believe what you did yesterday. You’re – wacko…”
The man shrugged and lay down on his bed.
Jenny asked for the guards to let her out, which they did.
She strutted out of the police station – her emotions in turmoil – and then realized with dismay that she had not asked the most important question of all. She strode back in – through the front office and past the two policemen. She approached the locked cell, and put her hands on the bars. “Who do you work for? Tell the truth!”
The man looked up from the bed, where he continued to sit. He deep sky blue eyes drilled into her. Again, she felt fear.
“You do not have the requisite understanding or knowledge to understand the answer.”
“Try me!” she shouted.
“You keep proving my point,” he said. “Ask yourself first what is truly most important and vital in this world.”
Jenny did not know what to say. She turned around and trounced out of the police station into the sunny morning. She was determined to be one of the world’s first class investigative journalists – and now – she had a real story to investigate. Two things she knew: this was not over – and she would find the truth.
Chapter Eight – Changed Plans
Peter Schönbaum, a man known by many for his preternatural good cheer and joy in life, was in a foul, dark, sour, perturbed mood – in part from dealing with the women in his life, and in part from a deep sense of foreboding which had enveloped him. He put his feet up on his messy university desk, and sank into a troubled reverie…
He had decided, as he had discussed with Marisako in the hospital recovery room, that he would reconstitute his team, in secret, at their little lake cabin at the edge of the forest on the shore of Lac La Ronge, Saskatchewan. There they would finish building their portable illuminator – the ‘hand-carry,’ as the team called it – with the second of their precious three kernels – and there they would finally and fully test it. It was hardly the perfect solution, for while the cabin was electrified and heated, it contained neither lab equipment nor machine shop. So they would have to bring a great deal with them. Also unfortunately, others knew of the cabin. But only a few, he told himself. And no one knows precisely where it is. He had purposefully kept its location a secret from most all over the years – as it was his one little node of peace and reflection and deep thought in a complex and difficult and noisy world.
A gift from his grandfather – to a deeply troubled teenage boy – the cabin had played a predominant role in saving his life – and was a profound part of who he was. It was there, so many years ago, that he had finally come to grips with life – after teen years filled with various sorts of debauchery and dissipation and stupidity and selfishness – along with a deep, misplaced anger at the entire world. In one bout of drunken vituperation and rebellion at age seventeen, at his grandparents’ forty-fifth wedding anniversary, he had unleashed an angry, inebriated, profane rant at all the relatives and friends, daring them to live ‘real’ lives, instead of the ‘fake’ lives he thought he saw all around. His father had been absent that evening – traveling – as he so often had to do to support his family… But his grandfather, enraged and fed up, had responded by punching him in the jaw, knocking him down, and dragging him outside. He’d been thrown into the car. His grandfather had peeled out, doing sixty through their neighborhood, and that whole evening, on into the night, at high speeds, his grandfather had driven him the four hundred miles from Colorado up to the cabin in Saskatchewan. In all his little insignificant life, Peter had never seen his grandfather so intense, so angry… More frightening than anything else, the normally gregarious old man had not said one word for the entire trip, and completely ignored Peter’s drunken spew of irreverent, self-pitying and ugly verbiage. They’d arrived just before dawn, and his grandfather had dragged him out of the car – stripped off his coat, and literally carried him over his shoulder across the landing and thrown him right into the frigid lake. Shocked to his bones – Peter had struggled, straggled, shivering and mad as hell – like a rabid, crazed dog – out of the lake, ready to fight his Grandpa. He’d thrown a punch which had broken his grandfather’s nose. But his Grandpa had not backed down. He caught him by his belt, punched him in the gut, and picked him up and threw him right back into the lake. After he emerged the second time, his grandfather had drug his mumbling carcass into the cabin, and dropped him, like a wet fish on the cabin floor. As he left, his grandfather told his grandson:
“This is your cabin now. My gift to you. When you decide to join the civilized world and do something positive with your life, you the hell let us know… Until then, you are completely on your own.” And his grandfather had turned, gotten back into the car, bleeding from his crooked nose, and and had driven all the way back down to Colorado.
Peter had stayed there and sulked for a full three months – throwing stones into the lake, swimming out hundreds of yards and back again – ranging miles through the forest – practicing karate, and kicking and breaking the boards on the side of the cabin (stupidly, as it was now his cabin), and going out to shoot rabbits and squirrels… At one particularly low point, mired in self-pity, he’d even considered committing suicide – just to goddam show everyone… But in the end – he’d not been sure they would even care…
And it was there he had, out of some morbid curiosity, late one evening, sitting by himself by the fireplace, and still looking for things to be angry at, taken a look at his grandfather’s old, worn, well-thumbed Bible, and read the Book of Matthew, and actually become fascinated… And it was there that he hitchhiked twenty miles into town to eventually get a haircut and a shave. And it was there – as the cabin worked its way on him – that he had spent hours and hours intricately whittling a walking stick out of a stripling of perfect maple, which upon returning had presented silently to his grandfather. And it was there in later years, at his cabin, his one magnificent possession in life, a gift better than anything else he could have ever imagined in the world – he made the radical decision to go overseas and do humanitarian stuff – to try to do something just basically useful and good with at least part of his life – and it was to that cabin he had brought Marisako so long ago where, on the water’s edge, with a cool polar breeze blowing, and the clear northern sun setting into the dimpling waters of the sapphire blue lake, he had gotten down on bended knee and asked her to be his wife. And he knew it was there – that he had so long ago finally made the decision to become a real man and not, as he had been theretofore, a complete poseur… God I miss my grandfather. The old man had not only given him a cabin, and saved his life – but had actually given him life. If heaven was real, and he believed for a great many profound and even unusual reasons that it was – and if he were to make it in the end through the promise of the narrow gate – he so very much looked forward to one day embracing that good man, telling him about his life, and thanking him for all that he had done…
Peter snapped out of his daydream, and his thoughts turned to what lay ahead. His took his feet off his desk, hunched over, and tried to concentrate, as there were still problems – a lot of them… For starters, the cabin was just a large simple room, with a fireplace and an outhouse and an indoor bucket shower. And indeed, that had not gone down well with everyone at all…
Upon hearing of it, Lucas had insisted on bringing his latest girlfriend. Peter had refused.
“It’s a one room cabin, Drimich! – We’ll all be sleeping in the same room,” he’d exclaimed. “There’s no making out with your girl up there. And beyond that, we have to maintain secrecy. Someone is trying to obliterate our research – and quite possibly even us. We cannot allow outsiders to be part of this. And besides Lucas, it would be dishonorable to expose your girlfriend to this danger. Don’t you think?”
Drimich had scowled – clearly unenthusiastic about leaving urban Colorado, and his fast, trendy, nightclub life, and spending so much time – without his various women – and without modern amenities – with a bunch of gnarly dudes in the upper wildwoods of Canada. Jason, thankfully, in contrast, had been on board from the get go – eager, like he – to do whatever was necessary to test and refine the illuminator, to get back on track, and to at last present it to the international physics conference in Paris – an event now only two short months away. Physics and science were Jason’s passion – and he could, Peter knew, like himself, taste the possibilities of immense discovery and reward. Jason also had the ambitious itch of a young man to prove himself and to succeed. But then Jenny – Jenny had become enflamed and upset when she learned from Jason of the plan, and she had come to confront Peter.
“You cannot keep me from being part of this!” she’d cried out. “I’m helping you to find the truth; I’m the one who’s started to learn about the Asian agent. I’m Jason’s partner, and I’m carrying his baby. We have to be together!”
Peter had been completely taken aback to discover that Jenny was pregnant (Did Marisako know about this?) – and did not want to create tension. Nevertheless, he had carefully explained to her that yes – he appreciated Jenny’s helping to find the truth about the foreign agent – and that yes – he cared about her and Jason and the baby. But on the vast other side of the equation – this was only for two months, and the purpose of the team at the cabin was to do build the new illuminator, do the research as quickly and as efficiently as possible. He did not want Jason wrapped up in emotional turmoil there – and most importantly – he did not want to endanger Jenny’s life (or the baby’s life) when there was no good reason to. He had also told her truthfully – given the close quarters and so forth, that it would be a lot easier to just have men only working at the cabin. That had predictably inflamed Jenny even more – given her pronounced and oft-stated feminist leanings, and her omnipresent belief that men were always somehow plotting to advantage themselves at women’s expense… Not true, thought Peter, we just want to be left alone to do our work…
But for Peter – there was a lot more in Jenny’s regard which left a great deal of distaste in his mouth – but which Peter had managed, despite himself, to keep from bringing up. He was rippin’ angry about Jenny’s new stories in the Denver Post. He did not want her revealing anything more to the public. Stories had gone out all over the nation about the attack at the university – and wild speculations about his research were now publicized everywhere. Worst of all – by far, far, by far – Jenny had released the contents of her interview with that Asian madman – in which the blue-eyed destruction machine had described his device as a ‘soul-wrecker.’ That had only served to intrigue and inflame millions across the nation – and apparently all sorts of people and groups from around the world as well. Peter had been completely inundated with requests for information, for interviews, for more information. Bottom line – he knew he had to get to the cabin soon, or his life would be entirely taken over precisely by those he least wanted it to be taken over by. So for all those reasons, he had told Jenny – no! He basically did not want her there. She is consumed with becoming a famous journalist. Not at our expense, nor at the imperiling of our lives… We’re on a mission. No one is going to derail it.
Finally – and worst of all – he had had a terrible, profound disagreement with Marisako – the true love of his life. Marisako had naturally and fluidly taken over the security aspects of their operation after the attack. With that – Peter had no quarrel whatsoever. Decades ago, in another life, far away in other lands, they had met under intense duress. They had both been working for a consortium of western intelligence agencies – he in physics, she in communications – trying to defeat something terrible and evil that had been designed to devastate millions. – And along with many, many others, they had been victorious. But lives had been lost, and great sacrifices made… In the midst of all that danger, Peter had encountered Marisako in action, and had fallen deeply and immediately in love with her. She’d shown tremendous grace under pressure and stress, demonstrated a superb and quick intelligence, and had been incredibly brave where many others had not. He had, quite honestly, never met another woman like her. The attraction had been visceral, intellectual, spiritual, emotional and erotic, and Peter had courted her with everything he had…
So Peter had no problem with Marisako taking over the security part of this hastily conceived change of plan. He trusted his wife completely and implicitly. Yet unsurprisingly – she also – had wanted to come up to the cabin. Peter had gently explained to her that he could not ban the other women from the cabin, if he were to bring his own wife. Marisako had argued that it was different; they were older. She would help take care of ‘the boys.’ Indeed, Peter knew, Marisako’s mothering instincts were incredibly strong. In her mind, she would keep them safe, and feed them, and take care of their colds and sniffles, and tuck them all into bed, and so on… And part of that was very appealing to Peter. But the primary reason he had refused – and had overruled Marisako (something he had only done a very few times in their whole married life) – was that he knew their lives would be in potential danger there, and he would not, could not, countenance endangering Marisako. It was, as Peter saw things, and as most honorable men all over the world do, his responsibility to protect and defend his wife, and to keep her from harm. Finally, quietly, Peter had reminded her that they both still had a prime mission in life – a mission which lay ahead of them possibly for all the rest of their lives – which was to find and save their son. And he wanted Marisako alive and well into the future to accomplish that mission. So with that, Peter had worn Marisako down, but had left both of them sad and forlorn. Marisako knew that she could not change his mind; Peter knew that he could not assuage Marisako’s feelings. The truth was: they would miss each other terribly in the days and months ahead.
The remaining difficulty had been Dip, the lab boy. Dip had insisted on going to help the team; Peter had refused. Dip was not an absolutely essential part of the team – as helpful and as enthusiastic as he was. And he was only nineteen years old. Peter would not endanger this young man’s life. He had considered that settled, until Dip’s father – a big ranch owner from southern Wyoming – had taken him to task over the phone…
“So you’re sayin’,” Dip’s father had drawled, “that muh boy, who’s served your team, and been a vital part of it, and who’s helped you every damn day in and out with all the crappy shit work on the project – and who’s had the thrill of his life being part of this amazing discovery – is just going to be cast aside because of a little danger? Is that what you’re sayin’?”
Peter had forcefully and unabashedly replied in the affirmative – noting that it was not ‘a little’ danger – but potentially a lot. “I’m not gonna put Dip’s life in jeopardy.”
The man had not been assuaged.
“Let me tell you somethin’, Schönbaum… Out here in the West, a man becomes a man by facing danger and dealing with it. No real man wants his boy to be weak. Dip’s been loyal to you. He’s of age. We’ve talked about this at length. He wants to be part of the team, and he’s ready to accept the danger. Hell – I was in Vietnam takin’ down the Vietcong commie bastards in the jungle at his age. You owe him, Sir. He’s taking this on because he has chosen to. Exactly like you are. Now – what do you say?”
And Peter – actually impressed as hell with both this man and his son – had relented. And in one of those rare moments in his life, Peter had allowed another man to dominate. “Yessir,” was all he could manage to say in the end. Dip would be on the team in Saskatchewan after all. Both men understood that Dip was making one of his first major decisions as a man. That drew respect from them both.
And so now he, Jason, Lucas and Dip were readying themselves for a two day car and truck convoy to their secret location on a lake in Saskatchewan. Abu – they had still not heard from, and they all hoped he was safe with the remaining kernel.
But the last thing – the very last and deepest thing – the pièce de résistance – which had dragged Peter down into his uncharacteristic funk was what the foreign devil had said to Jenny about the illuminator: “It is a soul-wrecker…”
Peter understood, as the physicist he was, that human beings were far more than complex algorithmic bio-machines… They had capabilities that went infinitely far beyond what even the most advanced algorithmic computers could do, or would ever be able to do. Humans had consciousness, and truth discernment abilities and free will – all of which cannot be truly brought about by a computer program. Those abilities, he suspected, as did many others in the world, lay in a connection the human mind has with the quantum realm. And that connection had something to do with humans’ souls. Peter believed deep down – for both scientific and religious reasons – that humans have souls – and that they are not just random accidental biomachines brought about by random mutations in a universe that popped into existence randomly – with no intrinsic purpose and no intrinsic meaning and no connection with the good, the beautiful and the true. And there, in the quantum possibility realm, lay many interesting theses – about evolution, about the nature of good and evil, about God, and about what humans actually are… And that Asian destruction machine – the one who had so dishonorably nailed him in the crotch – had unnervingly put his finger on something that had nagged at Peter for a very, very, very long time. He pondered: What if the Asian devil were somehow right?
Chapter Nine – Jason and Jenny
They had agreed to meet in the physics building, just prior to the departure of the caravan for Saskatchewan. They had embraced, and Jason had smiled, and told her how much he would miss her. And she had smiled, and taken his hand, and put it on her abdomen, upon which he had pulled his hand rapidly back…
And things had gone straight downhill from there. Their baby had come between them.
Jason steeled himself, as Jenny’s face crumpled. “Jenny, I’m sorry – but you’ve always known… I’ve never made a secret of the fact that I don’t want to have children. It’s not how I want to spend my life.”
Jenny bravely took her boyfriend on… “I was OK with not making a child, Jason – but the baby’s here. Now that it is, I’m not sure I want to get rid of it.”
Jason became exercised. “But I don’t get it – you’ve always been progressive – pro-abortion. Hell – you’ve even gone to abortion rallies…”
Jenny nodded her head. “You don’t understand. I’m pro-choice – I think the mother has the right to choose.”
“To hell with that!” Jason had responded angrily. “That’s bunk. The baby is as much mine as it is yours. Half of it comes from me, remember? It’s as much my baby and my choice as it is yours! – We had told ourselves – no babies!”
Jenny’s started to sob, as deep maternal feelings rose up in her; she took Jason’s limp hand. “I’m sorry, Jason. It’s not like I did this on purpose. I was on the pill. You could have used protection – but you didn’t!”
Jason’s face reddened in anger. “Because we agreed on that, Jenny! I offered, and you told me I didn’t have to! You said you had it all taken care of!!”
“So – you got what you wanted, right?! All the pleasure that’s so fucking important to guys, and none of the worry or responsibility!”
“No!” he yelled. “I offered, and you said you would take care of it.”
“But you didn’t really want to, right?”
“You bet!” he said. “Of course I didn’t want to. No man does.”
“So again – it all comes down to the man gets what he wants, and the woman doesn’t.”
“Yikes!” Jason yelled. “This is what you said you wanted! You said you wanted me to enjoy being a man with you. I did! That’s normal; that’s natural. You always enjoyed it too, as I recall!”
Jenny turned her back to Jason, trying to catch her composure. A few moments passed, and she turned back. “OK – whatever – the baby’s here, Jason… I’m not sure I want to kill it. What’s so bad about having a child? Did you ever ask me what I wanted?”
“No – don’t do that to me, Jenny! I told you on our third date that I didn’t want children – ever – and you said that was fine. – – I don’t want little snots that I have to clean up after, and I don’t want rebellious teenagers to fight with – and I sure as hell don’t want to spend a lifetime worrying about them… I want to pursue my passions, which are physics and you. And I also want you to have the career you’ve always dreamed of. – For God’s sake – look at Peter and Marisako! Look at the tragedy in their lives! – – I’m not gonna go through that. I want you to schedule the abortion. I’ll go with you. I know it’s not easy. But this baby never happened! I refuse!”
Jenny was shocked and disheartened at Peter’s contempt and vehemence. She could barely get out the words: “And I want you to take a month to think about whether you want to rip your son apart, and steal his life from this world…”
“My son! Oh my God! – – You are listening to that Asian jackal! We are not ripping away a son! We’re just preventing what we were trying to prevent to begin with!”
Jenny turned to leave. “No – that is not true, Jason. This is our son inside me. We rip him out, and rip him apart, and we remove his whole life from this world. We are his mother and father. He deserves our love, and he deserves his life – just like you deserved yours.” And with tears running down her cheeks, Jenny turned and left…
Jason walked out sullenly to the waiting convoy, his face conveying to the others that something really, really bad had done down…
Dip was driving a Ford F-100 pickup his dad had lent him, with a huge U-haul trailer that contained half their lab. Jason chose to ride with Dip – leaving Lucas to ride with Peter, in the Schönbaum’s Porsche.
Peter was sad and reflective. Jason was grim from his clash with Jenny. She has to get rid of that child… Lucas was sulking. Of the four, only Dip showed any cheer. He came over and knocked on Peter’s car window… Peter lowered it.
“Buck up, Mr. Schönbaum. We’re going to change everything.”
Peter managed a smile, despite himself, honestly happy that Dip was joining them. Or everything is going to change us…
Chapter Ten – Others Take Notice
The news story had migrated and metastasized around the world – fueled by Jenny’s insistence on printing interviews and speculations from scientists, people who knew Peter Schönbaum – from Nobel Prize winners – from the breaking story of the hard-to-believe escape of the Asian agent from jail – from her interview with him – and from her breathless account of Peter’s and her own boyfriend’s decision to continue their physics work at a top secret location, and from an interview with math wiz Nina, in which she explained to the world that there really was a mathematical way to ‘touch’ quantum wave functions – at least statistically… That had set off shockwaves across the physics and science world…
Jenny had sworn to Peter to keep the cabin location secret – and had now turned her attention to the FBI’s tracking down of the Asian agent. Many now breathlessly awaited the next installment in what had come to be known as the Illuminator Chronicles…
And in places both near and faraway – others took notice…
Chapter Eleven – Abu
Abu had gotten on the train to Marseilles at 2am in the morning in Paris with no problem. He did not think anyone was following him, and he had bought the tickets anonymously with his wad of Euro cash. He dozed off for an hour or so, and dreamt of monsters coming to destroy the illuminator… He awoke with a start, and, and as the French TGV – le train à grande vitesse – sliced silently like an arrow through the dark and sultry night, he started to plan what he would have to do. There was no way he would not build an illuminator with the kernel he carried, and there was no way he would let down the Schönbaum team, and there was no way that the team would not present its revolutionary theory and device to the International Physics Forum in Paris in September, just two months away. Whoever is trying to wreck our research does not know us…
Abu had a great deal of faith in Peter Schönbaum; no man had had more of an impact on his life. Indeed, Abu had been drawn to him from the very first day they met. He smiled to himself when he thought of it… The brash, skinny, bearded, white but sun-tanned and -reddened Schönbaum, and the dirt poor village boy from Nanergou, northern Togo, West Africa. Schönbaum, then a young man, a youth himself really, had shockingly appeared one Sunday afternoon on the side of the dusty soccer field of Abu’s village, and asked if he could play… Abu’s friends and cousins had never met a white man before, and they talked excitedly among themselves in their patois of Moba-slang.
“Who is he?” “Where did he come from?” “Why is he here?” “Does the chief know?” Several of his friends made crude remarks about the white man’s pale reddish skin (It looks like the inside of a grapefruit…), and his strange straight hair – and wondered (until he peed later on the edge of the field) if his dick was white as well… (Super white – they had all laughed…)
But then they had decided to let him play. What an adventure that boring day in the village had been!
The fellow had a sense of humor, and already knew some Moba banter (including to their extreme amusement some of the crudest words) and the African brothers had teased him mercilessly about everything – but nothing stuck to him… He let it all ride off his back – and they took an immediate liking to him. They also soon discovered that the white yovo from America was fiercely competitive, and had soccer skills – including an array of tricks and shots they’d never seen before. But more than anything, the white yovo gave them a burst of energy and purpose. He bought them millet beer in the marketplace that day after the game, and told them stories about lands far away, and challenged them to form a team to compete with other villages… which they had done – and which had given young Abu and his buddies the first elements of real self-esteem in their lives. And as the days passed, and the white man became more accepted into the village, he had noticed Abu’s tremendous intelligence and ability, and had spoken with his father, and paid for his uniform and books so that he could attend the little open air school in the village. And from that moment on, Abu’s life had changed radically, all because the Peace Corps and the government of Togo had decided to send Peter Schönbaum to his dirt poor village in the dusty, dirty West African Sahel… And because of Peter Schönbaum, Abu had been able to leave Nanergou some years later, and get a grown-up education, and had seen more of the world than he had ever dreamt of seeing, and had eventually reached a measure of modest wealth and success that would escape, he knew, 99.5% of his band o’ brothers back there that day on the sun-caked Sahel soccer field…
Abu still couldn’t sleep. He arrived in Marseilles a few hours later – resolved, and with his plan firmly cemented in his mind. He found a cheap bistro and got breakfast – a raspberry croissant and some sausages – and read the newspaper. He bought a cheap cell phone with a new number, and lied about his name and paid out more Euros from his stash. He mailed a note to Marisako with the new cell number and name, hoping to reestablish connection with the team.
He looked around in dismay at the burgeoning traffic, fumes and industrial decay that was Marseilles. He detested the city, which he associated with the French mafia, international thug gangs of Russians and Romanians, and worst of all, a huge trafficking in African youth – dark boys sold into slavery and bondage in the Arab lands, and African girls sold into the sex trade from age ten or eleven on up, in which they would be trained to service twenty or thirty men a day until they died (usually of despair) or got too old or diseased – a sex trade which proliferated all across a spiritually dead Europe… Marseilles was one of the more dangerous places he’d known in the world, right up there with Lagos and Algiers and Sofia… He had always been wary of it…
It was now 7am, and made his way through the various banlieues, and on into the Muslim quarter – where sharia ruled, and the French police no longer dared go. He was not Muslim himself, but had grown up with the Musulmans, right in Nanergou, and knew their ways well… Too well, he thought. He found the squatter’s apartment he was looking for and entered. He made his way up the stairs to the third floor hallway, which was covered in the unwashed grime and grit of decades of African immigrants into the land which had once ruled them. He entered the fourth door down. Inside, there were eight mattresses spread out in the one room, and a makeshift portable stove in the corner, along with boxes and bags of different sorts of grains – millet and rice and corn… There were two African fellows asleep on the mattresses. He woke one of them up – a Senegalese – who only spoke basic French…
“Je cherche mon frère Bando… Où est-il allé?”
The Senegalese told him that his brother – actually his cousin – was out early in the streets, already hawking fake Rolexes and cheap sunglasses to Marseille’s few tourists along the boulevards. Abu – exhausted – asked which mattress was Bando’s, and with his precious bags next to him, cradled in his arms, he lay down on the mattress and fell into a deep sleep.
When he awoke, a delicious thirteen hours later, there were six of them crowded in the room, cooking something on the stove; cooking oil smoke permeated the air of the room. Bando was there. Abu embraced his cousin – a good and decent and simple fellow – who some years ago had begged Abu for the funds to make his way to Europe. Abu had financed Bando, and indeed about twenty more of his brothers all told… That was the African way. That is why the African can never be rich, he had told himself many times. An African stands with his brothers and shares what he has, no matter what… Abu asked Bando to bring him to his boat…
The next morning, early, Bando brought Abu to the public marina down along the industrial piers of Marseilles, and to his 28 foot wooden sailing sloop, which Abu had bought with the earnings from his first patent years ago… The boat was getting old and rickety – and Abu could see at once that Bando had been renting it out – against his explicit instruction… He was mad but he wasn’t; he knew what it was like to fight for survival – and Bando had a wife and children to support back home in Togo. So he pretended not to notice. The boat was grimy, on the inside and out… But the marina was electrified, and there were basic bathroom and shower facilities for getting washed, and there was just enough room in the main galley of the boat, Abu thought, to construct a small illuminator with the precious kernel that he had just carried on board – and completely out of site of the world…
He explained to Bando what he intended to do, and why it was very, very important, and asked his cousin to be his assistant and cook and night guard… He would pay him twice what he earned from his fake Rolex trade for performing those duties. He also told Bando that there would be no parties, no girls, no drink, no socializing of any sort on the boat – and that it was to be all work and nothing but until the conference in Paris in September. Finally, he told Bando that bad men were looking for him, and that no one must know where he is or what he was doing. He could see that his cousin understood, but he could also see that his cousin had only a cursory understanding of the world outside his trade in Asian knock-offs on the street in a foreign land that was so far removed, both geographically and culturally, from the little sunny village where they had once played soccer as carefree boys not so long ago.
And so, in a little cabin on the shores of Lac La Ronge, Saskatchewan, and on an old wooden sloop in the industrial harbor of Marseilles, two teams started to build two portable illuminators, far away from prying and interested eyes, and beyond the reach of those who would seek to destroy that which the team was seeking to, for the first time ever in the history of the world, create.
Chapter Twelve – The Asian Devil Vanishes
Jenny tried to collect her thoughts, as she sat down to write the latest article for the Illuminator Chronicles in the Denver Post. She was alone, and she felt alone – horribly alone. She could not physically feel the little boy growing inside of her, but she could feel her son’s presence – and her whole body and body chemistry had changed. Will you be there in two months, my son? she wondered. She missed Jason – but she burned when she thought of the way he had treated her, and she also burned that she was persona non grata at the cabin on the lake in Saskatchewan. The boys always get their way; after all the years of the feminist revolution, the boys still get their way… She had not made the appointment with the abortionist; she did not know if she was going to…
On the plus side in her life, literally millions were now reading her articles around the world – and her name was already well-known. She had wanted so much to be a respected and well-known journalist, and by strange serendipity, it was happening – so fast that Jenny hardly knew how to handle it. She felt the pressure of keeping her readers informed, of investigating and finding the truth of the Asian Devil, of staying on top of all aspects of her investigations, and of not undermining the men’s feverish effort to rebuild their revolutionary physics device under enormous time pressure. On top of that, she was throwing up every few hours from the morning sickness which had developed in the fifth week of her pregnancy. She felt nauseous almost all the time. That stirred feelings of even more resentment toward Jason – he gets all the pleasure and fun, and I get all the burden… She tried to weigh what her feminist friends said about such (It is unjust…), versus what Marisako had said: The child is a gift; the fruit of your love… She had asked Marisako once if it was unfair that women had to bear the world’s children. Marisako had told her: It is the glory and essence of a woman to grow and nurture and love new human life within, and to bring children into the world. Men cannot have that. They cannot experience that miracle; but they have their own duties and burdens and purposes in life – some of which are very hard. Jenny could see that the deep love Peter and Marisako had for each other respected the real man and real woman each other was. She could see how man and woman cleaved together to make a far greater whole than either one of them could be. She wondered if she and Jason would ever have that. Or whether it will just be my son and me against the world…
Jenny took a sip of water, trying to stave off the next wave of morning sickness queasiness, and flopped back into her beanbag chair with her sheaf of notes from the interview with the police, and from her own investigation. The whole thing was rather astounding – and disheartening. The Asian devil had escaped from prison, just two days after a huge tendon graft operation on his leg, and had disappeared into the world – all despite the round-the-clock security detail on his prison cell. She almost had to laugh; he had done so so apparently easily.
At two in the morning on the second day of the Asian’s captivity, the night guard at the police station had found him on the floor in a pool of blood. His wrist had been slashed. The guard had called 911 immediately, and upon arrival the paramedic had felt for the Asian’s pulse and had declared him dead. They had left him on the floor with the door to the cell open, while they talked to their superiors on the phone. The paramedics had quickly left, and when the policemen went back to figure out what to do with the Asian’s body, it was gone. They realized they had been tricked, especially when they had found a couple of small splotches of the Asian’s blood out on the side road next to the police station. Apparently, he had walked out of his cell, and out of the station, right behind them while they were talking on the phone. A later interview with the paramedic had him swear that the man had had no pulse whatsoever. Then later analysis of the situation by the police revealed that the amount of blood on the floor, while dramatic, had not been much more than a pint – the same amount people give all the time at blood banks.
How had he dropped his pulse so low? They did not know. The next question was: Where had he gone?
They came back to the splotches of blood on the side road by the station. Had he been picked up in a car? It seemed the only reasonable possibility – unless he was hiding somewhere in the neighborhood. And indeed later, from a fortuitous tip from a man who had not been able to sleep, and had been looking out the window of his living room, they had identified a farmer in a pickup who had picked up the Asian as a hitchhiker. The police were incredulous.
“You picked up a male hitchhiker in the middle of the night?!?”
The old farmer had assented – telling the police that the man had been walking with a pronounced limp, and seemed in a great deal of pain, and that he thought he might be in trouble. The farmer told them that the man had been unfailingly polite and grateful, and had even helped him rearrange the tree in the back of the pickup, which had been threatening to blow off the truck. – The farmer had dropped the man off at the Denver train station, along with twenty bucks. The Asian, they had ascertained, had not bought a train ticket, and had not turned up anywhere in the terminal or the rail yard after a thorough police search. Moreover, several trains had left Denver by the time the police got there, including one to San Francisco, one to Carson City, one to New York, and ominously, one north to Canada – not far from where Peter and his team had just set up.
Marisako had become alarmed with the news, fearing for her husband and the men working with him. She had insisted that the police stop and search the north train while still in the United States, and the police, along with the FBI, had consented. At considerable cost in terms of manpower and train downtime, it was stopped in Montana, and after a full and complete search, one hobo, two Salvadoran illegal immigrants and a drug addict were discovered in the train’s cars. But no Asian devil. Which meant, they all assumed, that the man was heading east or west. The FBI had then refused to stop the other three trains, and had essentially given up trying to catch the man – arguing that there was only flimsy evidence that he was on any of the trains – and that no one was now endangered. They also pointed out that the Asian devil would have no knowledge of where Peter and his team now were anyway. Still, Jenny was furious, as was Marisako. They are letting the bastard get away!
On other fronts, Marisako had set the entire team up with encrypted new cell phones. She had downloaded an expensive and powerful encryption app, and had modified it herself, given her knowledge of cryptography, so that their communications would be completely untraceable. Thankfully, she had already received Abu’s letter, had texted him with full information about the app in one way encryption mode. He had used the team’s secret password to read her message, and then had also downloaded and modified the app. The full team was now in full communication mode, and invisible, they hoped to the entire world. They were glad that Abu was alright, and exhilarated that he, like they, was hard at work on one of the two newer illuminators.
Chapter Thirteen – Fizix Bros
Peter was in his element, for the first time in a while, actually accomplishing things which were important to him. The team had arrived at the cabin, tired and glum from the long drive, but with no glitch. Peter got the one bed in the corner; the younger men spread sleeping bags out on the floor. The cabin’s kitchen table had been usurped for the construction of the new illuminator, and Marisako’s magnificent polished driftwood coffee table had been raised up on plywood boxes and turned into a cooking counter. Lucas and Jason had set up all the computer equipment in one corner, right under the giant growling bear head that Peter’s grandfather had long ago mischievously mounted on the wall to as a joke to annoy his loving mate of over sixty years.
The men had gotten to work right away – working feverishly through the first night to set everything up, and then falling asleep in the early morning and sleeping until after noon. As Peter had known it would be, it was far easier working with just men. They didn’t have to shower or shave every day – or even every other day – unless, as Dip said, the ‘stank’ got to be too much; they could just be comfortable in their shorts or sweats, and they could cook and eat whatever they wanted. Dip had made the first run to the general store in Lac La Ronge, and the cabin was now festooned with boxes of cereal, beef jerky, Canadian bacon, chips, beer (Saskatchewan Double Moose Ale), as well as a whole lotta charcoal and meat, which Lucas really enjoyed barbecuing on the fixed grill outside. Lucas had fired up the grill and grinned, telling them: “The Serbs aren’t known as the butchers of the Balkans for nothing.” Peter had shot back: “For nothing are the great wits of Europe known as Serbs…” And the male banter from the git-go had gotten sharp and devastatingly un-PC and profane and clever-as-ever, and with no women to chide them, they had all laughed their brains out…
The following days had seen them settle into a natural routine. Up at 8am in the morning – a quick run along the lake for those who wanted some exercise – cereal or eggs and bacon and OJ for breakfast – along with a general organization meeting with decisions on priorities and action – and then heavy duty work – mostly electronics at first, involving connections with the spare kernel – and machine work to construct the shell for the new second illuminator. Lucas worked on calibrating the kernel with all his computers and screens; Jason and Peter worked on the general construction and machining; and Dip attended to keeping everything in place – clamps, computer wires, putting tools back, keeping the place sorta clean, making potloads of coffee, soldering electronic connections… – – – They skipped lunch each day, breaking at around 4pm – when they all took a two hour break. Time to shower – or, on the hot days – just go for a bracing swim in the lake – which they relished, to wash the sweat and stress and grime off – and then back at the cabin for some of Lucas’ masterful grilling. They didn’t bother with forks or knives – but just ate, for the most part, with their hands. – After dinner, another few hours of work, then a fire in the fireplace, and a chance to read or catch up electronically with their loved ones. For Peter, it was a chance to connect with Marisako, to catch up on the news stories concerning them, to coordinate with Abu, to adjust the team’s work schedule, and to read.
Peter also relished sending encrypted text messages to Abu in Marseilles, through Lucas’ portable satellite communications system, like: “We just finished up some grilled flank steak with Texas barbecue sauce and some Moose Ale; how u doin’?”
And Abu, frustratingly working by extension cord light into the night in the crowded rocking galley of his boat while Bando sorta cooked some (tasteless) beans and rice, responded with things like: “When I get my share of the Nobel money, I’m gonna spend some time in Hawaii on the beach with pretty babes, while you sit in your Arctic Circle outhouse…”
Peter’s funk had fully lifted, and he was happy to see the men work together and as a team progress toward their newly minted goals, despite what the Asian Devil had done. His head exhaustedly hit the pillow each night, while the other fellows had gotten into playing some sort of Serbian Army card game, sort of a cross between poker and gin rummy, with lots of shouting, and with the losers having to clean up the barbecue and beer bottle mess each morning…
In his sleepy mind, Peter laughed to himself: It all might turn out ok.
Chapter Fourteen – Jenny and Marisako Go After the Asian Devil
The Asian Devil was in New York. We’ve found him!
Jenny’s heart raced as she confirmed that the phone pic she’d received from her girlfriend, a New York City Police detective, and who was now reconnoitering Penn Station – was indeed he…
She and Marisako and the whole team had been greatly disappointed that the FBI had not checked out all the other three trains leaving from Denver the night the Asian disappeared. They had had no way to check the trains to Carson City and San Francisco, but Jenny had called up her former roommate in New York City. Her friend was now standing on the train platform in Penn Station, and had identified and begun to follow the Asian, who was nonchalantly heading for the exit… Jenny had confidence in her friend; for Chrissakes’, she’s a NYC detective…
Upon receipt of the pic, and after sending confirmation to her friend, Jenny had raced out to her car, and raced up into the mountains to the Schönbaum’s cliffside residence. By the time she got there, the Asian Devil had gotten onto a subway headed toward Brooklyn. Her detective friend was on the same train, two cars away.
The big question was: Do they call the FBI or not? Jenny at first was for apprehending him – then and there. But Marisako considered more. In Marisako’s mind, the Asian had not killed anyone, and even an attempted murder charge would be difficult to sustain – as – the Asian had fired a shot that day to scare Jenny and Jason, but obviously had deliberately missed. He could easily have killed them; he’d been at point blank range. Indeed, he could have easily killed them all. Rather, he had destroyed the illuminator kernel. What charge would that be? Malicious vandalism?
On the other hand, he and whoever he represented clearly wanted the illuminator destroyed. Who would want that? Why risk so much – years in jail – maybe even death – to accomplish that? Who did he work for? Who were they really up against? There was someone or something powerful at work here. The Asian devil was clearly not going to tell them, if he did not want to. The one single aspect of his personality that stood out above all others to Marisako, from beginning to end, was that he had no fear. That, in and of itself, scared her. Most men, no matter how brave, show fear. The Asian devil did not seem to at all.
So – Marisako put forward the argument to Jenny that perhaps they should follow him to his lair, and try to find out why this was all happening… She knew it was risky. If they chose that second plan, they would have to track him very carefully and very professionally, without his knowing – all the way to his final resting place…
And while they were pondering that, the Asian Devil had gotten off the Brooklyn train at the port – at the Red Hook Container Terminal. Brooklyn, just by itself, was still the fourth largest city in the United States, and responsible for over $200 billion in trade coming through the port each year…
Jenny’s friend had also disembarked and continued to follow him cautiously from a distance. They read over her continuous slew of texts carefully…
He seems relaxed, but walking with a pronounced limp…
He ate lunch in McDonalds…
He bought a newspaper before going in…
He has a gash wound on his wrist…
He’s walking through the port area…
He is very athletic; moves with uncommon grace…
He has bright blue eyes…
He has entered a port employment office…
He’s coming out…
He’s walking toward another area of the port…
HE JUST BOARDED A CARGO SHIP NAMED THE NAPOLITANO…
With the receipt of that last text, Jenny had come around, and agreed that they should track the Asian themselves, and not involve the FBI – for the moment. She saw Marisako’s wisdom; this was their one chance to really discover the truth (and reveal that truth to the world)…
Five hours later, after Marisako had cooked Jenny a good meal, with lots of vegetables for the baby, and helped her drink down the fluids she needed, despite the morning sickness, they received this text:
The Napolitano is setting out to sea. I’ve checked; it is going to its home port of Naples. It will arrive one week from today.
Had the Asian Devil left the ship? Jenny’s friend was adamant that he had not. There was only one plankway onto the ship. She had kept watch the entire time. He was still on board, she told them, unless he had jumped into the water, which she exceedingly doubted.
Her friend later texted: He took a job with the crew – as a ship night watchman…
Jenny and Marisako talked into the night – over herbal tea. How could they follow him in Naples? And – how dangerous would that be?
As they sipped the hot tea, Jenny had more to tell Marisako. Jenny had succeeded in gaining some additional information about the Asian. He was blood type AB-, relatively rare. Most interestingly, his blood showed no antibodies to cytomegalovirus, a common and detrimental spit virus shared by most Americans, or to any of the now epidemic sexually transmitted diseases, such as human papillomavirus, herpes, Hepatitis B, Hepatitis C, gonorrhea, trichomoniasis, chlamydia, syphilis, AIDS, or to any other major disease, for that matter, including smallpox, measles, chickenpox, or mumps… Which meant – not only had he not ever had these diseases, he had never even been vaccinated against them. Startlingly, he did have antibodies to two malarial parasites – Plasmodium falciparum and Plasmodium vivax – though there was no evidence of either parasite in his blood cells at all. The analyst who had analyzed the blood had told her that it was uncommonly pure blood – the type which could, if donated, help save the lives of many babies in need of transfusions – as well as pregnant women, for whom cytomegalovirus could pose a danger to their babies…
“His blood is precious,” he’d told her.
Even more intriguing, Jenny had paid a great deal of money, reimbursed by the Denver Post, for a pollen analysis of the clothes the Asian had worn the day he’d threatened them. While the clothes themselves had been made in Vietnam (nothing unusual there – many Americans’ clothes were as well), the pollen included grains from mountain flowers only found in –
“Get this,” she’d told Marisako: “Bhutan, Sikkim and Tibet…”
Both Jenny and Marisako had had to brief themselves on Bhutan and Sikkim – ancient Himalayan kingdoms, and on the current status of Tibet – invaded by China in the fifties, and whose native culture was now being purposefully and brutally and almost completely eradicated by the Chinese…
And yet – it appeared – their boy was headed to Italy…
Marisako had laughed: “It’s a little hard to create a theory for this one…”
They both knew, however, that they had to find a way to follow him to his ultimate nest. Jenny wanted to go herself; Marisako considered such extremely dangerous and unwise, especially given that Jenny was pregnant. The physics boys seemed to be doing OK, for the time being, at Lac La Ronge and in Marseilles, so Marisako considered going with Jenny. She will need help, and she does not know how to tail someone. If discovered, her life and her baby’s life would be in probable danger…
In Marisako’s mind, it actually made more sense for her to go by herself. She said so. But Jenny refused – telling Marisako that it was her duty as a journalist to get the story – and that there was no way she was giving up on this story… Marisako also told herself: The more the baby grows, the less likely it will be destroyed…
Reluctantly, Marisako picked up her encrypted cell phone and called Peter. They argued, but in the end he relented. She had agreed, at his insistence, not to engage the Asian under any circumstance, but simply to trace him. They both wanted to know what they were dealing with. They both wanted to keep everyone safe.
Jason, for his part, had adamantly refused to talk to Jenny at all, as she had not yet made an appointment with the abortionist…
Jenny had cried again, and relied on Marisako for emotional support. Marisako had tried to console her:
“Men also have fathering instincts, but they often don’t kick in for a while… “
But Jenny had shaken her head.
“You don’t understand, Marisako… He doesn’t have any at all. None.”
A long silence had ensued, as each thought about how Jenny’s and Jason’s baby might be preserved.
And at long end, after Jenny had composed herself, and after they consulted maps of Italy, at 3am that morning, with Jenny looking on, Marisako booked two tickets for the long flight to Naples…
Chapter Fifteen – The First Anomaly
Abu and his cousin Bando had come to a decent daily modus operandi in Marseilles; but still, Abu was operating at almost maximum frustration. The two of them would sleep late into the morning every day, on the boat, rise to get cleaned up in the marina locker room and then get some breakfast – usually from African, Middle Eastern and Vietnamese street vendors along Marseille’s seaside Quai de la Joliette. Bando would leave to sell his wares; Abu would return to work feverishly on the illuminator, while overhead daylight poured down through the hatch of L’Orphelin.
For “L’Orphelin” was the name inscribed across the back of his aging sloop, a name he had given it after an African poem which had once entranced him – when he heard it in the dilapidated high school to which Peter had sent him, in Atakpamé, Togo, a decade and a half ago – a poem that captured in his spirit all the yearning he had for his native Mobaland, and his little village, and the values of his culture, and how he felt as an African in the West. The truth was – he pretty much despised – like so, so many Africans (and a great many others around the world) – the decadent and decaying and introverted and pornography-addled and addicted Brave New World West… where nothing at all was any longer sacred (except feelings), where men were no longer willing to make judgments about anything, where they no longer thought of carrying down and building their lines and families into the future, and where he discerned a vast emptiness of heart and soul (for those who still believed humans have souls), and where there was not much more to life for so many than to eat, drink, be mesmerized and titillated by tawdry TV shows, get high, be merry and screw contracepted women, retire at age fifty-five off the backs of the fewer and fewer remaining young, hang out at trendy discos, restaurants and the nude beaches of Spain until they grew old and the blackness enveloped … He could especially see that Europe was dying culturally (and demographically too), and would soon be taken over by the much stronger culture of the Muslims, and that America was not far behind in the cultural death spiral, and he knew that he did not like living in the shallow and self-absorbed zeitgeist of the West – though he had managed to do quite well there. His plan – which had been in his mind for a long, long time – was to make a name for himself and become well off, and then to return to his little village, and build a magnificent compound – and there to support his aging parents and his extended family and his friends – and there to wed and start a family of his own and build something good and wholesome, the traditional African way, with all his people’s traditions and culture intact – and to help build his village into something authentic and hopeful… He would give it a shot and fight the good fight – despite the frantic and harmful incursions from the West – so glossily attractive to and corrupting of Africa’s youth – who had less and less of the wisdom of their elders, and so many of whom had forsaken their ancient culture, beliefs and traditional ways. Deep down, Abu did not believe that modern Western atheistic and materialist culture held the keys to happiness and glory and the future; and in that, he believed that many of Africa’s youth were being deceived by ideas and notions that were not good or right or true – and which would in the end betray them. He had grown up dirt poor but happy and hopeful; in the West he saw massive and pervasive misery, an overworked drugged-out psychoanalyzed populace, broken families everywhere with disrespectful, arrogant, immature and entitled kids, along with unrelenting stress, loneliness, nihilism, unhappiness and emptiness. He was a son of Africa; he was Moba; he was his father’s son, and he would carry on their line as his father had and support his people and their ways. It was a simple dream; he had been working toward it for over a decade and a half… Deep down – he had a dream that as Africa become educated and successful, its culture would rise and show strength into the succeeding generations, in contrast to the West’s obvious rot, laziness, dereliction and decadence… He sensed a big inversion in the world – that would catch many by surprise and would replace the West as the world’s center – and he, God willing, would be part of that great inversion…
But first – I must succeed at this, he chastised himself, as he had so many times before. And that was where the frustration lay. He did not have a giant portable lab setup, like Peter’s team did; he was working on a rocking boat with insufficient amenities; Bando was only around sometimes, and did not understand at all what he was doing; there were other folks at the marina, and they were too friendly and too curious, and liked to chat with him. They wondered why he had not taken his boat out; they wondered why he had to go to the hardware store every day or every other day… By himself, he had to solder everything together; he did not have the best computer setup, and did not have Lucas there to make all of that work; but most of all – he was alone and by himself, and at times, he was not sure he could do it. The one thing he did have was his communications with the team in Saskatchewan – and those communications had been upgraded, over their computer systems, thanks to Marisako and Lucas, to a fully encrypted, real-time, crystal sharp satellite link. So in effect, he could talk (and see) the Saskatchewan team any time he wanted. That had been a huge help, as he struggled with parts of the illuminator construction that he had not been responsible for before. And it also gave him a way to relax with the team, though he be thousands of miles away. After the sun went down, he would work through his plans for the next day, download the mathematical software he needed from Lucas, and link up with the rest of the team. Dip had even devised a way for Abu to join in on their evening Serbian poker games – by computer – and Abu had enjoyed that immensely. (The best part being that he couldn’t do their dishes when he lost!)
And given all the constraints he faced, the plan he had worked out with Peter and Jason was this: They, in Saskatchewan, would make the ‘elegant’ hand-carry – the illuminator which would be shown to the world, at a conference in Paris now only one and half months away. Abu would use the third kernel to make a ‘down-and-dirty’ illuminator – patched together by whatever means were available, and to be made operational as quickly as humanly possible – so that they could test it and start discovering whatever it might be showing them. For as of now – they were slotted to show the world something that they did not even begin to understand themselves. They were making a huge bet – and expecting a huge reward just for unveiling to the world what might now be seen in this universe. And if they discovered interesting things in that new sight, all sorts of incredible possibilities opened up into the future. Bando’s heart raced as he thought of all that had to be done. But he reminded himself of what Peter always liked to say: “A goal without a deadline is just a dream…” They were far, far behind in their plans – thanks to the warped and frightening Asian agent who had destroyed their first magnificent device.
Given all of that, Abu could feel the tremendous pressure on him to get something up and running, as the whole team’s presentation to the world would likely depend on what he found. And although Peter never put any verbal or psychological pressure on him (quite the opposite), Abu wanted very badly for the team to succeed – for all their sakes – but also, because he felt so greatly indebted to Peter Schönbaum. He knew this was the one single time in all their lives where he might actually be able to repay Peter for just a little of what that man had done for him. It was a debt which he felt, as an honorable and just man, it was his duty to repay – and which he wanted to repay out of his deep friendship with Peter.
And so – three laborious weeks into the work – Abu thought he had finally put something together that might constitute a working illuminator. It was nothing to look at or celebrate. The kernel – the little box perfectly and oh-so-expensively and exquisitely machined to hold a beautiful resonant series of overlapping sustained standing quantum possibility waves, and made out of a special niobium/selenium/gadolinium alloy, was now wrapped in an extremely sensitive mesh of wires, designed for multi-frequency electromagnetic shielding. A small hole had been drilled through both sides of the kernel, allowing polarized photons to pass through, sent via a small laser diode / polarizer apparatus attached to one of the holes. The photon detector – the most elegant part of the device after the kernel itself – on the opposite side of the laser – was sensitive enough to detect slight statistical variations in the polarization of the photons – which in turn depended on – according to Nina’s immensely complex equations – deviations from randomness among the wave function standing waves – which in turn depended on greater deviations from randomness of waves out to a radius of about five miles or so (for this kernel) – all without actually collapsing the wave functions – something physicists had theretofore thought impossible. The detector, in addition to the kernel, was one part of the brilliance of their device – and he – Abu Fandwaré – had been the man who had designed it. If the device showed anything significant, Abu would have a patent on something beyond valuable. I could become a big man in Africa… Or in the world…
The sun was setting, and Abu had turned on the working lamps clamped to the cabin ceiling of the boat. Abu sat there and looked at his device. It was portable, the computer and the kernel and the photon detector all wired together in a box with a handle. He wanted to wait for Bando to turn it on, but Bando was late (and annoyingly, had not made dinner either). Further, he knew it meant little to his cousin. So – alone – and even without alerting the team, Abu decided to turn the thing on and see what would happen. He did. He smiled ruefully and laughed to himself. I doubt some Asian madman is going to jump into the boat and shoot me! But still, thinking about that, he grabbed a knife from the galley and held it in his right hand. He then clamped his hands together, knife and all, in his people’s gesture for hope. A moment later, Bando came bounding down the hatch… Abu gestured that he come over and watch as the illuminator warm up.
At first, he was not sure the device was even working at all. He did not have the fancy ‘blue cube’ to create an iridescent showpiece of the quantum disturbances – just his computer screen, hooked up to the illuminator, and running a large number of exceedingly complex programs. He sat there, hunched over L’Orphelin’s galley table, and watched the different windows on the computer screen. From his laser photon polarization distribution analyzer tracking device, he could monitor the kernel as it developed its set of gazillions of quantum standing waves. That part was working! – And as they had experienced in Colorado, coordinates of short-lived anomalies – what had appeared as little electronic blue tadpoles in the team’s Colorado blue cube – started running down his screen. And then! – he was surprised to see on his surrounding area map (covering the right half of his computer screen) a significant, big, and sustained quantum anomaly registering about a half a mile from the marina. His first thought was that something was not calibrated right. He took some time to recalibrate and recheck – but it was clear as day on his screen; the illuminator, on its first startup, was showing a massive sustained quantum wave function anomaly just a short walk from where they were…
Abu’s heart raced. What if it is something real? He took out a map of Marseille, and tried to correlate the anomaly on the screen with a real destination on the map. He had not completely finished correlating the two sources of information (the screen coordinates and the map), but he thought he had a pretty good idea of where it was – and he didn’t want anything to change until he got there. The anomaly seemed to be occurring not far from where Bando usually set up shop to sell his watches and sunglasses. Abu decided at that moment that they would go investigate. But then – as he was watching the screen, the anomaly seemed to float from one position to a slightly different one. It was still near Bando’s turf, but he was sure he had seen it move. Total excitement overcame him. My God – what is happening a half a mile from here?!? He grabbed his encrypted cell phone – and with Bando carrying the illuminator, now running off batteries, they charged off the boat and out into the dreary, dusky and dismal streets of Marseilles…
Chapter Sixteen – Stalking the Asian Devil
Marisako and Jenny arrived at Naples International Airport, just 24 hours before the Napolitano was due to arrive . They secured a room in the port area, and spent a good portion of the day determining precisely where the Napolitano was to dock. Jenny was already showing a bit around the waist, and was exhausted from continuing morning sickness and the inability to sleep on the plane. And so after visiting the actual Napolitano docking facility, they returned to the hotel, where both tried to doze.
The next morning, with two hours to docking, they donned disguises that Marisako had prepared prior to the trip. Jenny was amazed at Marisako’s abilities in that regard, and could only conclude that she had done this before. At Marisako’s direction, Jenny had cut her hair short, dyed it black, and had donned clothing which Marisako called ‘Asian mommy frump,’ and Marisako had donned something Hawaiianesque, with a multicolored shirt and baggy shorts, and stout waking shoes. They looked very much like two middle-aged casual oriental female tourists. Marisako had also done Jenny’s makeup in an Eastern way, while Marisako had applied no makeup whatsoever, making her look rather plain. Though they had made no drastic changes, they both looked quite a bit different from the day when the Asian had accosted them all in the physics lab in Colorado.
Their plan was simple – which was to wait at a café across the street from the plankway from the ship, and wait for the Devil to come out. They would follow him on foot – but just in case the Devil took a cab or had an accomplice pick him up, they had rented a Vespa motor scooter. The Vespa sat alongside the wall of the café. They had checked the Napolitano’s itinerary, and it was supposed to stay at dockside for a full week for maintenance before reloading (and then heading off to Cyprus). Their hope was that the Devil would want to get off the boat for one reason or another, and that this – not Cyprus – was his ultimate destination. They were both determined to find out the truth: Marisako – because of what he had done to Peter, and Jenny, out of concern for Jason and the team – but also – because she sensed a very, very big story – likely of intense worldwide interest – which would magnify her newfound fame.
The ship docked on time, and they settled down into an outdoor table at the café. For two hours, no one at all came down the plankway. – – But gladly, at 11am, probably after some sort of processing, over fifty men suddenly poured from the ship. The ladies had been watching very carefully, while pretending to be talking over their third coffees. The last man to come down the plankway was the Asian. They were quite sure, even at that distance, as his body build and his limping catlike walk were quite distinctive. They paid their bill. The plan was that Marisako would follow him on foot, and Jenny would stay close by on the Vespa. They had their international satellite encrypted phones with them, so that they could stay in contact. Marisako had put them in walkie-talkie mode. Marisako walked briskly out of the café to follow the Asian.
He walked straight up the street across from the ship, and then turned on the Via del Pellegrino. Marisako stayed a discreet half a block behind him, but did not let him out of sight. He did not seem concerned at all about anyone’s possibly following him, as he never turned around, not even once. His gait was relaxed and confident, and he moved with purpose, though not all that fast. Marisako continued to wonder what gave him so much confidence. He was also not limping anymore, she noticed. He must heal very quickly…
For the next hour, they followed him down the ever widening and complicated Via del Pellegrino, through many dusty and complicated city intersections, to the Naples train station. He entered the station, and Marisako closed the gap with him, so that she could see where he was going. He went into the men’s room, and then out; he had a coffee; and then he bought a ticket. From there he went down to the track waiting area. A train arrived. Just at the last second, Jenny appeared, having returned the scooter to a pick up area, and they were barely able to step together onto the same train – not having any idea whatsoever where it might be going.
The Asian Devil was five cars ahead of them. They moved up four cars closer, sat down, and prepared themselves to monitor him as best they could, should he potentially leave at any stop along the way. The conductor came for tickets, and they had to buy them directly from him. Marisako, who to Jenny’s surprise seemed to know some real Italian, haltingly asked for the last ticket on the line. She also, trolling for information, asked the conductor: “Any others for the last stop?”
“Yes, signora, the Chinese fellow in the car ahead is also going there. Very popular with all you Asian tourists these days… And don’t forget, you’ll need your passports.”
Marisako looked surprised, took the tickets, and they both sat back.
Jenny asked: “So where are we headed?”
Marisako looked down at the train tickets. They were to the City of San Marino, in the little mountain enclave republic of San Marino, completely surrounded by Italy, some four hundred and fifty miles away…
Marisako thought to herself: There is much, much more to this than we imagined…
Chapter Eighteen – Hounded…
Peter Schönbaum was exhausted – but pleased. All the fellows had arisen early, as this was the day – one month prior to the conference in Paris – that they would turn their illuminator on. Indeed, the team was advance-testing it – for the formal test scheduled later in the afternoon. Peter had absented himself for those tests, as he had faith in his team – and he really, really needed some fresh air. After several days of no exercise whatsoever, Peter and Dip had gone for a few miles’ run up along the side of the lake, and were about to turn and take the forest path – a little more inland and a little shorter – back to the cabin. Peter had also received a cryptic message from Abu, that his illuminator had started well, and had found something (but Abu ha not said what). Marisako and Jenny were on a train to the country of San Marino (which he had had to check out on the computer). For the first time in a while, he felt in charge of the way things were playing out. He thought, not for the first time: The Asian will not have succeeded; we are too strong and determined for that… And now we are on the offense.
They had come to the end of the lakeside trail, and had stopped to look at the view. Peter was out-of-breath, and his sides hurt. He knew he had been holding Dip back – and he appreciated Dip’s kindness in keeping him company on the way out. They both looked out at the sparkling lake.
“I’ve not seen a more beautiful sight anywhere, Mr. Schönbaum.”
Peter smiled. “This is my favorite place in the whole world, Dip. I grew up here – from a boy into something like a man. My heart has never been more at peace than when I’m here. I’m glad you could join us. – – – – So, how is it? Boring or exciting?”
It was Dip’s turn to laugh. “I like the crew, and I like the physics, and I like the place, and I like helping make history. I’m most excited by what the illuminator will find. The only downside – no ladies…”
Peter smiled again, wistfully. “I know, I miss my girl too. I hope she’s doin’ OK… Don’t worry, man… You might be famous soon; then the girls will come to you!”
Dip laughed. “I would like that, Mr. Schönbaum; I would like that very much.”
They turned to go down the forest path. Peter had just barely caught his breath, and one of his shins was hurting – from not having properly stretched. “You go ahead, Sir. Make sure those fellows have some coffee… It’s gonna be a long day…”
“Are you sure?” Dip asked.
Peter nodded, and watched Dip lope off into the forest.
Peter stopped for a moment and stretched his legs. The sunlight careened down through the canopy and the firs, and he could hear a slight insect buzz in the warp of the woods. He loved the forest; he had had many, many adventures in it. He took off down the path at a very, very relaxed slow jog, so that he could truly enjoy and savor the moment. Today is the day! he thought. The day that might change everything…
The path turned and straightened, stretching out for about ½ mile straight, with thick bushes on either side. When he was a teen, he had always sprinted down the alleyway, as he called it. He picked up his pace a little bit, trying to remember what it had felt like to be seventeen years old again… He smiled to himself, relishing the bit of time away from the fizix brotherhood…
But then halfway down the alleyway, he thought he heard something to his left – a little rustle in the bushes… At first he thought he imagined it – but then he heard it again – and he saw one of the bushes move… He just barely caught a glimpse of something running with him, several feet away, on the other side of the greenery…
His heart sped up. What the hell is that?!!! It wasn’t wolves. There weren’t any around here, and he knew they didn’t hunt that way. Not a bear, as it was keeping pace with him. Bears never did that; bears either accelerated or decelerated. He sped up a little. And then he heard a rustle on his right. His tranquil idyllic moment in the woods turned to concern and fear – very, very quickly. Coyotes? There had never been coyotes in these woods – that he’d ever heard of. I must be very careful… He’d had coyotes follow him down a path at dusk in the Elk Forest in Pennsylvania once. They hadn’t dared attack, but he’d shot off his gun several times just to be sure. And even with the gun shots, they had stayed with him – a whole pack – just waiting for a slip or an occasion to take him down. He felt adrenaline surging through his bloodstream, and he picked up his pace again. He didn’t have his gun with him – how stupid of me! He shouted out Dip’s name. There was no response. He was reaching the end of the alleyway, where he knew the trail would rise up over a knoll, but was still heavy with undergrowth. He made a mental note to himself not to trip.
He had made it to the turn up in the trail, and bounded up over the rocks and crevasses in the rock. He could hear animals bounding along with him, just behind the bushes which bordered the trail. There was a long stick, like a martial arts bow, lying on the side of the trail. He stopped for but a moment, and pried it up from the ground. He started running again, and held the stick like a javelin in his right hand. His lungs were aching as he climbed the steep knoll. At the very top, right at the crest of the hill, there was a clearing. He sped up once more to run across the clearing, and as he did, three huge coyotes appeared from the bushes, running with him. He stopped, his heart pounding through his chest. He was shocked at their size. These were not little western coyotes. They looked like big eastern coyotes – wolf/coyote half breeds. He knew they feared man – or at least the coyote part did. He had to show no fear – as fear would feed their hunting instincts. He also knew, from his time in Asia, that the only way a man could survive an encounter with a man-eating Tiger was to roar with all his might. He swung the stick in the air, and roared, like a giant predatory animal. The three coyotes stepped back, assessing, and cautious. He charged at one with the stick. It fell back more. He looked into its eyes, staring right into them. He started. The eyes frightened him; they were completely and totally black. There was no reflection on them at all. He had never seen anything like that. An involuntary shiver went up his spine. He thought about taking to a tree, or making his way to the lake, but decided to keep running. Again, he knew they were wary of him. He had to show no weakness or vulnerability. He made growling noises, and strode down the path, slowly picking up speed.
Then he heard a scream – the scream of a man in horrible agony… Dip! The scream seemed to come from ahead. My God, coyotes have gone after Dip! He forgot about his own beasts, and ran as fast as he could down the trail. The three coyotes again ran with him, but hid themselves again in the underbrush, and stayed at a safe distance. He scanned ahead for any signs of Dip, or of blood, or of a struggle… It was a good two miles to go still – and he was not sure he would make it. He had to find Dip. Two would be stronger than one, if Dip were still able to fight.
He chose a good stride, letting the adrenaline power him, even though his lungs and legs ached and strained for oxygen. Every quarter of a mile or so, he swung the bow around and yelled out with all his might. Do not show weakness… Do not show vulnerability…
It was like a surreal nightmare, running and running along the trail, back to the cabin… It seemed to go on forever. And the coyotes stayed with him; they were always there. Yet they did not attack. And finally, he could see the opening into the meadow next to the cabin.
He started shouting for help. And where is Dip?!?
But nothing prepared him for what he was about to see.
He bounded into the meadow, yelling his head off, and running as fast as he could. The three half-wolves bounded into the meadow with him. He saw Lucas standing just outside the cabin with Peter’s own Glock 39, in a straight shooter’s stance, and in the driveway to the cabin was a bunch of cars and trucks and a mob of people with TV cameras. Reporters! Lucas took aim and shot straight into one of the half wolves. He heard a howl behind him, and was now halfway across the meadow. Lucas shot again, the second beast went down. He was nearly to where Lucas was, by the cabin, and the third half-wolf bounded past him with an amazing and sudden burst of speed, and leapt right up onto Lucas. Lucas fell backward, unable to get the shot he needed. The wolf tried to go for Lucas’ throat, but somehow, Lucas got his hands around the creature’s neck and was just barely able to hold its snarling head away. Jason ran around from around the side of the cabin, lunged at the ground, and picked up the Glock, while the coyote/wolf was trying to rip into Lucas’ throat. He put the gun against the side of the creature and fired several times. Blood spattered all over, as the animal went berserk. It spun around several times, howling, and then Jason put several more bullets into it. One went into the brain, and there was another giant explosion of blood – and brains. Peter fell onto the ground, curled up, clutching at his side, and panting, like an animal. Lucas took the gun from Jason and reloaded. He was covered in blood. He looked down at Peter.
“We’re going after Dip. We know where he is. He’s in trouble!”
Peter tried to say something, to warn them… But they were off, sprinting into the woods – men on a mission…
He looked up toward the driveway. Several men and a woman were coming over to him.
One poked a microphone into his face.
“What just happened?!?” the man asked breathlessly.
Peter looked around at the half wolf carcasses, and the blood and brains spattered all over. In his mind, he thought: It’s happening all over again! Something is trying to stop us…
He looked up at the man with the mike and growled: “Get the hell off of my property.”
Chapter Nineteen – The Lair of the Devil…
Marisako and Jenny had sat for over ten hours on the train, in what seemed like the passage of many days. They took turns napping, as they wanted to make sure the Asian did not disembark before San Marino. Marisako spent some of the time studying the tiny country on her cell phone (the oldest constitutional republic in the world, she discovered), and Jenny spent her time outlining possible new articles for the Illuminator Chronicles on her Blackberry. Though they could see through the car end window into his car, he did nothing interesting at all for the entire extent of the journey. He seemed to be reading, but they could not see what.
They arrived at last at Rimini, a lazy and, judging from the window view, somewhat dilapidated Italian beach resort on the Adriatic Sea. They waited while the train switched engines and tracks for the very short extension ride to Serravalle, across the San Marino border. On that short ride, they had to show their passports to a government agent, as San Marino was not yet party to the Schengen Agreement allowing Europeans free passage from one country to the next. As the train stopped, the ladies scooped up their bags, and watched through the window as the Asian headed for the exit from his car. They disembarked at the same time, and immediately walked a bit away from him, so as not to cause suspicion. They were able to sit on a bench which partially hid them from his view, yet while they could see him over a short wall.
As they watched, he was met by two men in robes, in what Marisako, devout Catholic that she was, recognized as the habits of Capuchin monks. To their astonishment and surprise, the Asian removed his shirt, and put on a habit given to him by one of the men. He then removed his shoes – as Marisako was just noticing that the men had nothing at all on their feet. The Asian did not seem to have any luggage at all – just as he had not when he went from the Napolitano to the train station in Naples. How incredibly clever, thought Marisako. Disguising themselves as monks. And in an order devoted to poverty, simplicity, austerity, chastity and charity… The ultimate cover… Hiding evil with the pretense of good and selflessness…
She and Jenny watched as the three men crossed the parking lot and started walking up the road into the City of San Marino – which she knew to be some four miles away. Marisako was surprised. They are going to be walking four miles barefooted?
They had to follow them, but they could not walk after them without being noticed, and while carting their suitcases. Marisako presumed the faux monks were headed into the City of San Marino, and so she and Jenny rented a small taxi for the next four mile excursion. The cab driver whisked them out of the Serravalle train station, and up the road into the city. It was steep, with many turns and switchbacks, as they climbed the mountain upon which the city rested. Marisako and Jenny turned the other way as they passed the Asian and his two accomplices about a half mile up. At the top of the main plateau on which the city rested, on the border with the City, they noticed a small hotel. Marisako asked the driver to leave them off there. They quickly rented a room, and once inside it, Marisako, to the marvel of Jenny, threw off her middle-aged Asian mommy frump disguise, and methodically reworked herself into a fairly athletic (and much, much younger looking) world travelerette, replete with small backpack (with European country stickers on it), shorts and suspenders, light fake freckles – which she applied with drops of transparent skin glue – and a hat the writing across which stated: Save the Seals… Jenny laughed, but Marisako did not. They could not see the road from the room, so Marisako told Jenny that she would go out and tail them on foot, once they (hopefully) passed by on the road. Jenny was upset that Marisako was not taking her, but Marisako rightfully pointed out that the two of them might strike some suspicion or recognition. Further, Jenny was still feeling sick and out-of-sorts from her pregnancy. They had their phones in walkie-talkie mode, and could stay in contact. So out the hotel room door Marisako went – leaving Jenny to shower, cool off and get something to eat.
Marisako went to the woods along the side of the hotel, found herself a good walking stick and a place to sit on a rock and wait. Within the hour, the three men came up the road – still walking at a fair pace. She waited for them to pass, and then strode out onto the road with her walking stick, well behind them. She strived to keep them in her sight, while not getting that close. If any of them turned around, she was fairly sure that none would suspect anything amiss from a hardy and lean freckled female world traveler also making her way on into the city.
And so it was late in the day, with the sun was lowering in the sky, that they all made their way into San Marino proper. She had to close ranks a little bit, as the road turned into a city street, with many crossways and far more people. The three men did not slow down, but wended their way up through the city, in narrow streets that were steep and cobbled. She looked up, and could see an ancient walled fortification, with a church above it overlooking the city. The men seemed to be heading upward in the general direction of the church. And indeed, some twenty minutes later, they were all now walking across a giant horizontal plaza which stretched across the front of the church, and wrapped itself around that part of the San Marino mountain. They came to a non-descript but classic older Italian building, not far past the church, and turned into the doorway and disappeared from her view. She continued walking, and turned to look at the entranceway. There was an iron gate across it, and she could see ancient Latin words inscribed on a wooden plaque next to the door. She translated easily: “Capuchin monastery of San Marino, Serravalle and Fiorientino”
And there she was. And there they were. How wonderfully clever they are; hiding in a monastery! Are they pretending to be monks in the monastery, or have they forcefully usurped it? Who are they? It disturbed her to think that evil might have infiltrated a monastery, and that the real monks might be in danger. They should be warned! She deeply understood, unlike most in the world, the beauty and true freedom from personal sin and the evils of the world a monastery or a cloister represented. Again, she thought to herself: The real monks should be warned. They are in danger. Would they be so easily deceived? But the even bigger question in her mind remained: Why the hell would they be in San Marino? To launder money? Is San Marino one of those secret tax havens, like Liechtenstein?
Most maddeningly of all, as she looked down the street at the monastery gate, and farther down, at the church, she could not immediately see any easy way to get into the monastery. She was a woman.
Chapter Twenty – On the Hunt for the First Anomaly…
Abu and Bando made their hurried way up through the darkening streets of Marseilles. Abu had a GPS unit; Bando carried the illuminator and computer in a sturdy cardboard box. Every block or so, they stopped and Abu checked the coordinates on the computer screen – and hoped that all of the connections in the jury-rigged device would hold. Abu could see, looking at the computer readout, that there were actually several anomalies around them – but the intensity of the one they were looking for was far, far, greater than any of the others. And it was persistent. He noted to himself; it had not moved again. If anything, it had grown stronger. Abu’s heart pounded in his chest. What are we going to find? And even deeper in his thoughts: This breaks of laws of physics… Or what we guessed those laws would be…
They passed a trendy night club on their right, on one of the back streets; Abu could hear the mechanical beating cadence of African/Islamic music pouring from inside, and there was a group of cheap and tacky Spanish prostitutes hanging out just outside – dressed in very tight and short clingy skirts. The whores approached them both, and one put her hand around Abu’s waist and into his pocket, where she fingered him. Abu forcefully disentangled himself, and waived them off. He beckoned to Bando to ignore them. They moved on, and he heard one of them angrily shout at them: Jotos!…
Just how many men have you had tonight? Abu thought in disgust. He looked down at the computer in Bando’s box. Abu could see that it was just about three blocks up, to the right. At one and a half blocks up, they passed two Arab-looking males in expensive suits, and with, Abu was pretty sure, guns packed in their belts. He grimaced; he knew how so many of them thought about black non-Islamic Africans.
They came to an alleyway, just 20 yards away from the anomaly, according to the GPS. Abu looked up into the dark passageway. He could not see all the way into the darkness. He put a hand on the knife sheath attached to his belt. He told Bando to be ultra careful, and to watch their backs. They ventured a short ways up the alleyway.
Bando pointed. Abu looked into the shadows. He thought he could see a figure, hunched down, at the end of the alleyway. Abu’s fingers closed around the hilt of his knife. He had a sudden doubt… I should not endanger our lives; there will be ample opportunities to explore what the illuminator is showing… But then, even as he hesitated, he felt a strong compulsion to move ahead, down toward the end of the alley… He knew he had to get there. Something, he sensed, was terribly amiss…
“Get ready to run!” Abu whispered to Bando in Moba.
Abu glanced once more at the computer screen, on top of the illuminator in the box held by Bando. The intensity was even greater than before. But there was more! There were now two dots on the computer screen – both intense. Abu stepped forward; one of the dots moved as he moved! A surge of adrenaline powered through Abu’s system. It is showing that I myself am an anomaly!! He felt himself in his thoughts; he did not know how that could be. He just knew he had to go all the way into the darkness. Something terribly improbable in nature was happening, and now he was part of it… He tried to sense what was around him. Had they walked into a bubble of other physics? The excitement and apprehension made him light-headed…
They inched their way down into the back of the alleyway. At last, they could see a small figure hunched down on its knees… He and Bando approached very slowly. And – to their complete surprise – it was a boy, kneeling, hunched over… They came even closer. The boy was shaking violently, uncontrollably, and tears, Abu could see, streamed down the boy’s cheeks…
The boy looked up – and spoke in a language Abu had not heard in more than twenty years…
In the language of the Peuhls… the Fulani tribe… the cow-herding nomads of West Africa, the boy said as plainly as ever… “I knew you would come. Help me, help me, please help me!!”
Chapter Twenty – One – What the Hounds Wrought
Peter huddled with Jason and Lucas around the fireplace in the cabin. It was now 8pm, and they had just returned from the hospital. They had not eaten. They had not showered. Peter still had dried coyote blood and brain splattered on him, as did Lucas. Lucas had brought out a bowl of stale chips and bottles of beer.
Peter tried to make sense of the day, and to decide how to proceed. He had not fully recovered from his coyote attack, and many dark thoughts were germinating in his mind…
Jason and Lucas had earlier, just as Peter had managed to get back to the cabin, run off into the forest with his gun to help Dip; Peter had been left with the dead coyote/wolf carcasses, and to contend with not one, but four different news crews who had trespassed on his property. The crews had gleefully filmed Peter’s dramatic, out-of-breath and bizarre exit from the forest, followed by the coyotes, the attack of one of the coyotes on Lucas, and the bloody shooting of each of the beasts… The crews had also filmed Peter, in a livid, bloodied, exhausted rage, ordering them to get off his property… A strange, bizarre, surreal scene it was, and it had now been broadcast and YouTubed to every location in the world – where it had gone – at least amongst the nerds of the world – viral…
It was obvious that the cabin’s location was no longer secret; and half the world probably saw him as some scientific lunatic. Stories were undoubtedly already being put up by the Enquirer and the Star with headlines like: “Eminent physicist attacked by deranged beasts; physicist goes berserk…” Peter’s phone had not stopped ringing, but he had refused to answer it. There was no word from Marisako or Jenny in San Marino. He had still not heard any more from Abu in Marseilles…
And then – the crews had also filmed Jason’s and Lucas’ retrieval of Dip, with close-ups of the boy’s bloodied and mutilated leg, and his being taken by ambulance to the hospital…
For right after dispatching the black-eyed beasts, Jason and Lucas had headed up the lakeside, whereupon they had found Dip clinging to a rock sticking up from the lake about sixty feet from the lakeshore. The flesh on his leg had been horrifically ripped open and torn and bitten; there was a dead coyote floating in the water, and several others were baying at the water’s edge. Lucas summarily and with great gusto had shot each one multiple times.
Jason and Lucas had swum out to Dip, as his body lay draped over the rock. He’d been in shock, and hovering on the border of consciousness. As gently as they could, they’d swum him back to the shore, with the surrounding water turning quickly red. They’d taken off their shirts, and wrapped Dip’s leg tightly with them – trying to staunch the loss of blood. Jason had puked upon seeing the mangled flesh. They had then carried Dip on their shoulders all the way back to the cabin. Upon returning, they had found the sheriff’s car, the sheriff and an infuriated Peter. The sheriff had immediately administered further First Aid to Dip, and had called the ambulance. Peter had thanked the sheriff, whom he had known since his wild teen days, and then the three of them had taken Dip’s truck and followed the ambulance to the hospital.
Dip’s condition had been serious; he had lost a great deal of blood. Dip faded in and out of consciousness, but by the time they reached the emergency room, he was completely unconscious. Peter had reached Dip’s father; Dip’s father had insisted that Dip not be given a transfusion of blood from the general blood bank – as his father did not trust the safety of the Canadian blood banks’ stores. But both Peter and Jason had type O- blood, which meant they could donate. Both had broken rules to donate two pints – for a total of four to begin replenishing Dip’s loss. Dip’s leg had been bitten and ripped repeatedly. The hospital staff had clipped off one of the offshoots to the femoral artery, which had been blasting out Dip’s blood into the lake prior to the application of the shirts as tourniquets, and then cleansed and cleaned out the damaged flesh. There was also damage to one of the tendons. A young surgeon, thankfully, had been on hand to repair both tendon and blood vessel, and then to put in the over one hundred and thirty stitches to repair the multiple skin tears on Dip’s right upper leg. After the surgery, they had waited for over two hours for Dip to regain consciousness. He could barely talk, between the anesthesia, the antibiotics and the painkillers which now flooded though his system. But still, when he saw them, he had managed a rueful smile…
“I drowned that mangy beast; score one for Dip…”
They had laughed, for the first time, and Dip had immediately fallen into a deep drug-induced sleep. Peter had called back Dip’s father back with all the news. “My boy’s real strong,” his dad had said. Peter had replied: “Yeah – he sure the hell is.” Deep down, Peter could not help but feel guilt. If I had only carried my gun with me…
Now finally, in front of the fire with his team, Peter was trying to understand many things. They were filthy and exhausted and Jason and Lucas were pale as hell, after donating so much blood. Still, Jason was speaking, excitedly…
“Peter, the illuminator’s working…! It was absolutely fucking amazing…! We could pick up on the cube bright dots for all the coyotes; we could see the whole pack. We could see their location, and we could see them running.”
Lucas broke in: “At different times, we could see you and Dip as well. We saw the coyotes which ran with you, and we saw the coyotes which ran with Dip. We could see Dip run down to the water, and then swim out. One of the coyotes went after him in the water. We could see the struggle…”
Jason: “We didn’t know what the coyotes were, but it was clear they were chasing you. At first we guessed bears, or people, but Lucas guessed wolves. We grabbed your gun, and were running out to help you and Dip just when you came bounding out of the forest.”
Lucas: “Goddam, Peter, it’s amazing…! The illuminator could ‘see’ the coyotes and at times you and Dip! The question is: Why? And how?”
Peter nodded, trying to think logically – and not giving heed to some more uncomfortable feelings deeper down. “Well, the illuminator picks up agglomerations of sustained highly improbable wave functions – before they collapse into reality. If the illuminator picked up the coyotes – on a continuous basis – that would seem to imply that high sustained and continual quantum improbability was occurring – leading to highly improbable and unlikely sustained events or behavior in the real world… The odds against that would be off-the-charts… And to my way of understanding –there was something monstrously unnatural about those brutes…“
Lucas was nodding. “Yeah… We reached the same conclusion. The question is: How could there be a sustained improbability over space and time – and what does it mean in terms of the reality it coalesced into?”
Jason looked at Peter. “Professor – How could something like that possibly happen? How could there be sustained quantum wave improbability, and how could it be centered on certain things – like the coyotes – and Dip? It goes absolutely against everything we know about the nature of this universe…”
Peter the physics professor thought for a moment, his heart racing a bit… “No, actually fellows, it goes against everything we thought we knew about the underlying quantum nature of this universe. But the truth is – we’ve never even once been able to see into the quantum wave function realm before… We’ve never been able to know what truly happens in that realm – which undergirds all of what we perceive as reality… The truth is – the possibility wave function realm of physics has always been invisible and unmeasureable to us. Until now, everything about such has been complete and absolute pure speculation – because it was all beyond our scientific instruments. We have no direct scientific observations of the quantum wave function realm but these in the whole history of the world… Until now.”
There was a pregnant silence in the room, as they considered the truth of what Peter said.
Peter looked at his fellow scientists. “We are, gentlemen, in completely uncharted scientific territory. We should not have any pre-suppositions about what we will find – as we have absolutely nothing to base them on…”
Chapter Twenty-Three – Rescue
Abu was incredibly tired and stressed. He looked out over the stern of L’Orphelin, and at the sizeable wake it was now creating, as they powered by diesel engine across the mercifully calm Mediterranean. Bando had the tiller, following a compass bearing Abu had calculated for him. The boy – Dudani – sat across from him on the rear benches of the sloop…
Abu was struggling to bring up the words he needed in Fulani – as the child seemed to speak only rudimentary French, and only a few words in Moba. The boy did understand Arabic, but he and Bando knew only a few words and phrases. It was frustrating for Abu – for as as a child he had once been rather fluent in the Fulani language – the result of Fulanis coming through his village twice a year with hundreds of head of cattle… and inviting the Fulani boys to play with them in the village… But without any use whatsoever, the language seemed to be pressed back into part of his brain that he could not anymore easily access… He got up and got the boy and Bando beers from below, as well as one for himself, and he leaned back, enjoying for a moment the feel of the warm wind across the side of his head…
He shuddered to think of what might have happened to them… The moment after they had discovered the boy in the alley, Abu had forcefully and tersely instructed Bando to return to the sloop immediately with the illuminator. He knew, even before the boy tried to tell them, that evil men were looking for him. Bando had left as ordered, carrying both the makeshift box with the illuminator, and Abu’s high speed portable computer. Abu knew that the total cost of that apparatus was well in excess of two hundred thousand dollars, just by itself – but that if it really opened up a new era and understanding in physics, its actual intangible worth was almost incalculable… He knew that his future and the future of his dreams and the future of the Schönbaum team might well lay in that box.
The boy had been in a panic, frightened for his life, and babbled uncontrollably in Peuhl about men looking for him… Abu had lifted him up, and pulled him over into the furthest shadows of the alley, as they watched Bando leave.
Abu had held his shoulders, and shaken him, and tried to tell him, in his limited Peuhl, that he could trust him – that he would protect him. Once the boy had been calmed, they had started down toward the exit from the alleyway, but had heard men’s voices. Abu knew they were in extreme danger. He turned his back to the alleyway entrance, and told the boy to hide back in the dark. The boy had scurried to the darkest corner, and huddled down into it. Abu had then pretended to be relieving himself, holding his stance as the men walked across the entrance to the alleyway. They’d stopped and peered down into the shadows; Abu had pretended to be zipping up and turned and walked toward them – as if he had nothing whatsoever to hide. One of the men held up a gun. Abu had raised his hands.
“Have you seen a black boy?!” one of them demanded.
Abu suspected they were Algerians, or Libyans, by their way of their speech.
Abu raised his hands higher and shrugged. “Non, mes amis,’ he responded.
One of the men approached him. “Where are you from?” he demanded. The man had a horrific and ugly scar across his lower lip.
“Le pays du Togo,” responded Abu in French. He bowed slightly, and said in his highly inflected African Arabic. “May the grace of Allah be upon you.”
One of the men laughed, but responded, also in Arabic: “And upon you.”
And the men had left him and continued on into the darkness.
Abu had run to the back of the alley and grabbed the boy by the hand. They had exited the alleyway, and run down the street in the opposite direction the men had taken. But they had had to pass the club, and other Arabs and the prostitutes had seen them pass. The prostitutes now yelled foul things at him as they passed. Abu knew that it was only a matter of time before the Algerians came to look for him and the boy. Worse yet, one of the men outside the club had left the steps and started to walk after them.
Abu and the boy turned the corner, and there was a seedy bar there… They had entered, gone toward the back, past the restrooms and toward the rear door. Abu had looked around carefully; there was no one observing them. He opened the back door and left it ajar, and then took the boy up the stairs that came to the back door. Two stories up, they had come to a door onto the roof. They went through it. On the roof, there were several large vertical vents, with brick bases, and they hid behind one of them. Neither said anything, but the boy clung to him, intermittently shaking. A short while later they had heard men talking animatedly down on the street, but their voices had quickly tailed off… And there on the rooftop they had waited until about four in the morning – when, Abu surmised, the thugs had finally made their way to sleepland.
Abu and the boy had descended then, gone out the back door, and made their way in the wee hours of the morning back to the sloop. Abu had taken the boy aboard, woken Bando… They had conferred quickly in Moba.
Both knew they could not stay there. The men in the streets were slavetraders, or worked for slavetraders – trafficking in poor African children, and selling them into slavery in the Arab world… Many had seen them that night… Many knew two black men lived on a boat in the harbor in Marseilles… Connections would be made. The men he had deceived would be furious and unforgiving – and murderous.
And so, at 5am, just as the first glimmers of the sun were appearing under the horizon, they had pushed out of the dock, and set off in L’Orphelin. Bando and Abu had discussed their destination. Another French port? Nice? Monaco? The Italian Riviera? Corsica? In the end they had chosen the island nation of Malta, as Abu knew that Africans were more welcome there than in France or Italy, and there were far fewer Arabs. It was also far enough away that it would be difficult to trace them.
The boy looked beyond exhausted but would not sleep. “Are we going to Africa?” the boy had excitedly asked.
“No,” Abu told him. “But we are going nearer. One day soon, you and I and Bando will see our homelands and our families again.”
And for the first time, the boy smiled…
And so, as they sat on the cushioned benches drinking beer, and made their way south and east to the land of Malta, Abu had talked – or tried to talk – for the first time with the boy.
The words came out haltingly, with deep emotion – in a mixture of French and Peuhl and Moba – as the boy tried his best to communicate with them. Dudani had been taken from his family in a town in Burkina Faso (only a couple of hundred miles from where Abu and Bando had grown up) – literally abducted from the herd of cattle he was tending on the outskirts of town, while his family traded in the marketplace. He had been punched in the head until he was unconscious and then put and kept in a cage for several weeks as he was transported by truck across the Sahara and to the north coast of Algeria. He had then been cleaned up and sold to a wealthy Qatari who had a large house in Marseilles. He’d worked there for several months, doing the scummiest chores from morning until night, and was beaten every day. He had run away one night, and the Qatari had sent his sons and his goons after him. He had run miles through the streets of Marseilles, but they kept on tracking him, doling out money to anyone who had seen him run… At last completely exhausted and grief-stricken, he had run into the alleyway.
Abu and Bando were grim – they had heard many such stories.
After the boy’s recitation, Abu asked: “But what were you doing down on your knees in the alleyway, Dudani?”
The boy started sobbing… “I was praying Monsieur Abu, I was praying…” And then, almost choking on his words: “And God heard me.”
Chapter Twenty-Four – Waiting the Asian Devil Out
Marisako and Jenny had returned to their little hotel on the outskirts of San Marino City to consider their options, and were trying to enjoy cappuccinos sent up by the warm Italian staff (decaf for Jenny, for the baby) – despite their incredible frustration. It was a clever checkmate, or so it seemed, as the Asian Devil was holed up inside a Capuchin monastery, where women simply could not venture.
Jenny observed: “The one thing about him always is that he is completely unpredictable.”
Marisako thought to herself: He is unpredictable because we do not know who he works for and why. If we knew that, everything would make sense. She was determined more than ever to find the truth.
Their first thought was that they should contact the FBI. Indeed, Marisako knew that that would be Peter’s strong choice. The Asian Devil was, after all, a fugitive from justice in the United States. But then again, they realized, hauling him back to the United States would prevent them from finding out who he really was, and who he really worked for. More than anything else, they knew that there could be no resolution until they found out why he had attacked them – or the illuminator at least…
On a hunch, Marisako asked Jenny to check on extradition to the United States from San Marino. After consulting the internet, they were both surprised to find that San Marino (like the microstates of Andorra, Liechtenstein, and Vatican City) were not members of the European Union, and unlike most all the EU countries, San Marino had absolutely no extradition treaty with the US.
Bingo! thought Marisako.
Jenny said: “So basically, he’s holed up in a monastery in one of the tiny little dots in all of Europe where he is safe from American law… He’s made himself completely inaccessible. – – And he made his way here right under our noses. The bastard!”
Marisako took a sip of her cappuccino. “But surely, he is not going to stay in San Marino for long… He will have to escape at some point. He comes from somewhere, and he works for someone.”
They looked at each other with melancholy in their faces. It was obvious to both that he had outwitted them and could outwait them – for they could not remain in San Marino indefinitely. Nor could they even know if he left the monastery. And for all they knew, he might already be on his way…
On a hunch, Marisako telephoned the church and asked the church secretary if the Capuchin monks were ever allowed to leave the monastery.
“Oh, si,” replied the kind lady on the phone in Italian, “they come for Mass every Sunday morning at 9am…”
Chapter Twenty-Five – Controlling the Chaos in Saskatchewan
Peter huddled with Jason and Lucas the next morning at the cabin. To their dismay, there was no coffee brewing, as Dip was in the hospital – and none had thought to take over his duties. During the night, the several news crews had pulled up again to the front of the cabin, and a couple of the newsmen were already milling about in front of Peter’s cabin door. Peter’s anger was building again, fast, and he was even more aghast after they had seen some of the news feed videos which had gone out across the world showing the confrontation with the coyote/wolves, and the recovery of Dip, bleeding and maimed, from the lake. The whole thing looked like a scene out of Harry Potter… Lukas offered to chase the news reporters away with Peter’s Glock.
Peter laughed and was sorely tempted, but restrained Lucas. “I will have to face the world, and soon… Better to negotiate with them for the moment… We will be needing them in the future and should use them to get our side of things out.”
And so – huddled around the rough-and-ready kitchen table, effectively trapped in the cabin, they strove to make more sense of what had happened…
First, it was quite clear that the illuminator was working – or at least – something deeply significant was happening. Peter visually reviewed the recorded blue cube patterns, and just as he had been told, he could – against a background of electronic blue tadpoles here and there at the edge of the five mile sensitivity periphery – see the sustained points of wavefunction improbability which represented the coyote halfbreeds, and as a pack how they had chased him and then Dip. He saw himself and Dip appear, as dots in the grid, and randomly it seemed, at different times, and then fade. He could see the coyotes that had been chasing him. He noted with great interest that they disappeared from the cube just after they were shot. Does the illuminator distinguish between the living and the dead? He could see the coyotes that had gone after Dip, and he could see the intensity of the signals grow as they clustered around mangling Dip. Logically, there was something about the coyotes that made them show up on the illuminator, and there was something about him and Dip – at various times – which made them show up as well. How baffling. What is the explanation? Many improbable thoughts went through his mind, and he shuddered. Deep down he knew they were on the brink of a huge discovery – but they didn’t know what the discovery was!
After his brief alone time, which the fizix bros respected, he congratulated them on their work, and reminded them that they were seeing into things previously unseen in the universe. He asked them to ponder in their minds what they had observed through the illuminator, and to see if over the next couple of days anyone (including himself) might formulate a sensible theory about it. Peter also asked Lucas to research on the web if and when coyotes had ever been seen in the Lac La Ronge area. He was still incredulous, for Peter had never once in his entire life heard of coyotes in this region at all – though he knew they were multiplying rapidly and spreading out into all sorts of areas across North America.
They had then agreed to wait one day before they tested the illuminator again. Today Peter would deal with the press jackals outside the door; they would examine and remove the coyote/wolf carcasses; they would try to make contact and catch up with Marisako and Abu; they would get cleaned up and showered; they would visit Dip in the hospital; but most of all – they would think… As Peter often told them: We must never be too busy to think and reflect… Our real work is in the mind…
After their meeting, Peter got first dibs on a much-needed shower – then got dressed, and headed outside to try to restore some normalcy to his reputation in the world…
As he stepped out the front door, several microphones were thrust into his face…
Peter scowled, but pulled himself together. “Gentlemen and ladies of the press: I will give you a full interview, but only if you remove yourselves from my property – and permanently…”
There was some initial consternation among the news crews, but in the end they reluctantly agreed. Like all good negotiations, it was a win/win. Peter followed them out along the gravel driveway leading to the cabin from the country road that ringed the lake.
An interviewer was chosen from among the crews. Peter was offered a seat in a foldable beach chair, and their interviewer, a young fellow with a Canadian accent, took a beach chair opposite him. Peter took a deep breath, and tried to look earnest and sensible. Just damn! he thought. Marisako is going to flip out when she finds out what’s happened. Time to contain the damage…
“The whole world is following you now, and everyone everywhere wants to know: What the hell happened to your team yesterday, Professor Schönbaum?”
Peter grimaced. “I and one of my associates were attacked by a band of coyote/wolf halfbreeds while going on a jog…”
“Why did they attack you?”
“Because they are hungry carnivores…”
The interviewer and the other newspeople laughed. “Yes, of course…”
“How is your work progressing?”
“Slowly.”
“What discoveries have you made to date?” queried the young man.
Peter smiled. “Our device is working, and is showing us things which we do not yet know how to interpret… We are nevertheless quite sure that we are obtaining scientific information for the very first time from the heretofore unreached quantum wave possibility realm – the realm which lies underneath everything which we observe in the universe… That is a stunning advance in physics… We look forward to introducing our device and our research and our thoughts to the world at the Born Physics Conference in Paris next month.”
“What things?” asked the reporter breathlessly.
“I would prefer not to respond right at the moment,” said Peter, “until I myself understand what is going on.”
“Will you win a Nobel prize?” asked the young reporter.
Peter laughed. “Who knows! That would be wonderful – especially for my team – who is quite young – but that is not our goal. We’re scientists. Our goal is to develop and seek to understand a realm of physics – quantum possibility wave functions – which are behind all the reality we see – and to understand what occurs in the quantum possibility realm, before those wave functions cohere into that reality. Our goal – like that of all scientists – is to understand better the true nature of the universe we are embedded in.”
“Do you have any more information about the man who attacked you and the illuminator?”
Peter paused for a moment, unsure how to answer. The interviewer pounced when he sense the hesitation.
“Do you know where that man is, or who he works for?!”
Peter strove to answer sensibly, without lying, but without revealing what they knew: “We believe he may have left the United States, but we do not know who he works for.”
“Do you think your device is a ‘soul-wrecker,’ like the Asian attacker claimed?’ asked the reporter.
Peter was dismayed, but used the chance to put his first spin on this thought. “While I believe in the reality of human souls, for both scientific and religious reasons, I do not know how one might be destroyed.” And then he added: “And I certainly cannot see how tracking quantum possibility waves scientifically for the first time could wreck human souls…”
“So do you think the Asian terrorist who attacked you is a mad man?”
Peter was silent for another good long moment. He certainly seemed like a mad man, but Peter suspected very deeply that he was not. “I don’t know; but in retrospect I think that he was not out to kill us. I think he is very concerned about something, and I do not understand what that is.” Yet… – Peter could not help but thinking…
“Do you think you and your team will be ready to present your revolutionary device to the world at the Born Paris physics conclave?”
Peter laughed. “Well, I certainly hope so. But we have endured a great deal in trying to get there. I mean – how many scientists get attacked by Asian madmen and coyotes while doing their research?”
The young interviewer laughed. “Not many!”
The young interviewer wanted to ask more, but Peter stood up, and looking into the camera (and as he well knew – at the entire world), said:
“It’s been a pleasure. But now, if you will allow me, I have a great deal of work to do – starting with the disposal of several dead coyotes.”
The interviewer laughed again, and threw out: “Einstein never had to deal with anything like this.”
Peter turned back to the camera, his face serious: “Actually, Einstein had to deal with a lot more – and – if you want to know – I think I would do well to remember that myself… Thank you all.”
And with that Peter turned and starting walking up the gravel driveway which bent around by the dock, and then over to the cabin in the meadow. He thought to himself: Once again, things back to reasonably normal. He wondered how long that would last. He looked down at his phone; there was a very big video file from Abu. And he was quite surprised to see that the file had originated from Valletta, Malta.
Chapter Twenty-Six – Catholic Mass
Marisako has truly outdone herself! They were standing in front of the church, just down the street from the Capuchin monastery in San Marino City. Jenny looked at what Marisako had done to herself. She was dressed in a conservative but ladylike black dress, with heels and stockings and a black Catholic lace mantilla, attached to a black hat, the mantilla hiding her face, and which traditionally serves to keep a Catholic woman from becoming a sexual distraction in church to the men. Jenny, in turn, wore a light summer dress, but also with a light yellow, fine-meshed mantilla and matching hat. Jenny, to her own amazement, realized that Marisako had made a superb call, for most of the women around them also covered their faces in the same traditional way. Jenny found herself thinking: It actually makes the women more special. It was now minutes before the 9am Mass, and Jenny was a bit nervous; she had never been to a Catholic Mass before in her life. Marisako had told her to just follow her lead, and to mumble through the communal prayers. The main thing, Marisako had told her, was to appear to be reverent and humble and grateful before God.
It is hard to pretend to believe, when I’m not sure I do, Jenny thought to herself. She took a deep breath, and together they walked into the narthex of the church, and then into the nave.
To their delight, all of the Capuchin monks were arrayed across the first two pews. They both scanned the backs of the now unhooded monks. Jenny saw him first, and pointed him out to Marisako. They took seats two pews back, behind the Asian, confident that they could not be recognized with their face veils.
The Mass started and they sang the first hymn, Veni Creator Spiritus, as the priests and deacons processed to the altar. Jenny was taken by the beauty and haunting melody of the hymn. More than that, she realized with a start that she had never once before seen Marisako, the devout Catholic, in her natural state, in her church, and in the practice of her deep faith. She was surprised at Marisako’s strong and natural singing voice, her startling comfort with Latin – and her surprising piety…
She remembered something from long ago… Marisako had told her once in a bar that James the apostle of Christ had made his way to Spain to proclaim the Christian faith, and the Spanish had carried that faith to the Philippines, and from there Jesuit priests had brought the faith to her family’s little fishing community on Hokkaido in northern Japan. And so Marisako had said, she had always given thanks to that apostle for her marriage. For Peter had been looking for a truly Christian wife, so many years before, and would not have married another, and but for that apostle, she and Peter would not have come together. The tale had made Jenny think, when she first heard it, of the great influence certain people have on into the future of humanity. She had also been surprised to consider that but for Christ himself, Peter and Marisako would not be wed – and quite possibly – none of them would be doing what they were…
The hymn was over, and they sat down to be welcomed to the Mass. Through the bowing of the heads, to the request for forgiveness of sins, to the Bible readings from the Old and New Testaments and the Gospels, Jenny did her best to look normal and at ease. It was not difficult, for she followed exactly what Marisako was doing.
Marisako, for her part, was, as she always did, turning her soul over to God, but yet still managed to watch the Asian, just in front of them, in between her prayers. To her surprise, the Asian seemed to lead most of the Capuchins through the prayers and the kneelings and the singing and the responses. When they knelt, the Asian’s head went down, deeply down, in what gave the illusion of true reverence and belief. She thought: He is so very skilled at so many things – he certainly is a superb actor…
The Mass continued on… They heard the homily from the priest – in Italian – a good portion of which Marisako was able to follow. It was about hers and Peter’s favorite of Christ’s parables – that of the prodigal son… Marisako knew that that parable lay at the heart of who Peter Schönbaum was – and for that she was immensely grateful. Those few profound words of Christ – which he had first read while hating the world at his grandfather’s cabin on a Canadian lake – had initiated the change in her husband from a different creature to whom he now was. And she knew it was not just her husband – but literally millions throughout history how had been similarly changed…
And when the time came for Communion, Marisako watched with an eagle eye as the Asian went up to the altar to receive the bread and the wine. She followed a little while later, while Jenny stayed in the pew. When she returned to the pew to pray, on her knees, she noticed with alarm that the Asian was no longer with the Capuchins. She gritted her teeth – for their daring plan had been to strike up a casual conversation with him after the Mass, still hidden by their mantillas. She had thought most long and hard about that – for it technically broke the agreement she had with Peter. But she had justified that in her mind, telling herself that ‘contact’ did not count if the Asian did not know who they were.
She wondered where the Asian had gone. He cannot slip out of the Mass! It would break his cover as a Capuchin! And as she was just thinking of making her way to the back of the church herself, she was greatly caught up in astonishment and surprise when the Asian Devil made his way into their pew – and knelt down right beside her! Her heart thudded furiously, though she knelt over slowly to pray herself. Jenny also gave a start, shifting around on the kneeler – to catch a glance.
She watched the Asian out of the corner of her eye. She could almost hear his breathing, which was whisper quiet and easy. He was kneeling also, and bowed over in what looked like deep prayer. She saw his hands clasped tightly together, and almost, she thought, saw beads of sweat on his temples. He kept on praying, even as the host was returned to the tabernacle, and as the priest started to address the congregation. The time came for the last hymn, I Am the Bread of Life, in a simple and joyful Italian. She followed from the hymnal, but was quite surprised that the Asian did not use one. His voice was strong and clear, and it had that strange foreign accent she had heard once before. The Italian came off his lips easily…
She felt a deep anger rising up in her. She would confront the bastard. Enough of the hiding! What could he do to them here, in a Catholic church!?
She was about to reveal herself to him, when he knelt down once again at the Benediction, and said some prayers in a language she did not recognize.
Then to her utter shock and horror – he turned suddenly straight toward her and said, in English: “Do not be frightened wife of Peter Schönbaum. I want to tell you that your most heartfelt prayer has been heard. You will see your son again. Very soon.”
Marisako – who had been preparing mentally for a confrontation – and for danger, even physical danger – was so taken aback she started to swoon… The Asian and Jenny both caught her, and kept her head from banging into the back of the pew. Marisako managed to sit down on the bench, leaning over in intense emotion. Jenny was about to confront the Asian herself, but found herself saying instead: “Will my son be born?”
The Asian reached out to clasp her hand, and looked at her with his clear bright limpid blue eyes. “Your son’s life rests with your decision. But I beseech you; do not take your son’s life. Nourish him and love him – that is for what a woman is made. He will be the joy of your life – and he will have a valuable life – if you do not kill him. Do good toward the one who grows in your womb, and you will be rewarded, many times over…”
And then suddenly, several Capuchins came over right next to them. One of them said to Jenny, in fragmented English, “I hope you will not be annoyed, but the monks must return to the monastery at once.” The Asian semi-bowed to her and then he and the Asian and the others simply walked out. Jenny felt flushed. She bent down and held Marisako. She had never, ever, even once, seen Marisako – the strongest woman she had ever known – so vulnerable and taken over by emotion. She would not have believed it possible. Marisako had gone almost completely limp, hunched over in the pew.
Jenny held Marisako’s arms as they exited the church and made their way, slowly, haltingly, back to the hotel.
Marisako lay down on the bed. Jenny went to get her some water and switched on the TV. As Jenny came back with a cool damp cloth for Marisako’s head, they were stunned to watch a video of Peter’s run across the cabin meadow, with coyote/wolves right behind him, his collapse on the ground, the attack of a coyote on Lucas and the bloody execution of three coyote/wolf halfbreeds – all in the meadow next to the Schönbaum cabin in Saskatchewan.
Marisako’s hands were shaking when Jenny gave her the glass of water. Marisako barely whispered: “Get me Peter. I must speak with him.”
Chapter Twenty-Six – Out of Control
Peter looked out the window of the back seat of Dip’s huge Ford pickup, as he and Lucas and Jason and an American colonel named Sam rushed to the hospital in Lac La Ronge. The now-working illuminator apparatus sat next to him on the back seat – its blue cube lit up with the little starburst anomalies here and there, and with one huge one showing – at the hospital itself… Does it know where we are going? Peter had already repeatedly asked himself. He was well aware of serious scientific theories which suggested that time was a two-way street… Adrenaline coursed through his arteries, and he was trying, trying to assimilate everything that had happened in the past two hours…
The team had awoken early, with a superb pancake and sausage breakfast cooked by Jason. They had reviewed the long audio/video file from Abu – who to their shock was near Malta with his cousin and a West Africa nomad boy named Dudani. On the video file, Abu swore over and over and over that the boy had showed up as a super strong anomaly in an alley in Marseilles – over an extended period of time – and that he too (Abu) had been an anomaly for a short while. In other words, they had all realized, the same sort of pattern as that with the coyotes. And what did they find the boy doing, on his knees in a dark back alley in Marseilles? Praying. Peter mulled that over. How does that fit with the coyotes? And life and death…? They were all thinking: What was the theory that connected and made sense of their first observations? It seemed to make no sense at all. But whatever the illuminator was revealing, Peter knew it was significant and revolutionary. We have to understand what it is showing us…
And then, right after breakfast, he’d been stunned to receive a call from the White House – on his cellphone! – and had been asked to wait for the President of the United States. The fellows had been taking and setting up the illuminator, and he’d crazily gesticulated for them to be quiet. In the now hushed cabin, the president informed him that the National Security Agency and other agencies of the government were following his research, and that it was possible it could be ‘militarized’ down-the-line. Over my dead body! Peter had screamed to himself. But for the moment, the president’s staff had become concerned that they were in danger, now that their location was known. There are fanatics all over, Professor, who might want to derail what you are doing. We are concerned by chatter we are hearing. Further, my science advisors tell me that you could be opening up a significant new vista in the area of physics… We want to make sure that America benefits first from whatever you discover. We believe you and your team may be in significant danger.
Peter told the president: “Thank you Sir for the warning… We are indeed having difficulties getting our research done.” And he thought of the Asian and of coyotes… And then he added: “But of course, I hope our research will be used for the benefit of all humanity.”
The president had replied: “Yes, yes, of course – though I have been given to understand that there could be unpredictable consequences, depending on what you find. I hope you will confer with us as your research progresses.” Peter was about to respond, but the president continued: “I have worked out an agreement with the Canadian prime minister, and he has allowed me to station US troops around your cabin, under the command of Colonel Sam Breckinworth. They are under orders to protect you from terrorists, coyotes, intrusive news crews – or anything else which threatens you and your team.”
Peter had laughed: “If you can just take care of the news media, Mr. President, we would all be very grateful.”
And at last the President had laughed himself: “If I only knew how to do that, Sir!” But then the president warned him again about potential and now likely dangers. “You are a great resource to our country, Dr. Schönbaum. We will do our best to keep your team on track and from harm. If you need anything, you may relay your request directly to me through Colonel Breckinworth.”
Peter had thanked him, sincerely, and then with that, the president had hung up.
They had sat back for a moment in awe, as a knock came at the door. When they opened it, a tall, obviously fit, uniformed and armed Colonel Breckinworth stood in it, with forty heavily armed men behind him.
The Colonel had introduced himself, and had announced to them: “The perimeter of your property is secured, Dr. Schönbaum, and the press teams have been pushed back to beyond that perimeter.”
Peter had asked the Colonel where his men were going to station themselves – and learned that a tent camp had been set up on the square of land where his very long driveway just entered his property.
“Thank you for keeping us safe,” Peter had managed to reply.
The Colonel had smiled – a wide happy smile. “It is my true pleasure, Professor.”
By ten o’clock, they had sort of collected their wits, in all the excitement (The President of the United States!), and had begun setting up the illuminator once more. By 10:45, it was working, and a large and sustained anomaly immediately showed up in the blue cube – which proved to be situated right in the hospital in Lac La Ronge where Dip was convalescing…
“Could it be Dip!?” Lucas had asked first.
“How the hell would I know?” Peter had responded.
And then, just as they were getting ready to take the illuminator to the hospital, with a full US military escort, Marisako had called from San Marino. She had been crying – and that scared Peter. Marisako did not cry easily. And indeed, it had taken a while for him to even understand what she was talking about. The Asian Devil, she and Jenny had discovered, and as she had come to believe, was an actual Catholic monk – and a very religious one at that. Well if he’s a Catholic monk, thought Peter, I don’t ever want to get into a brawl in a monastery… Marisako’s assertion had made no sense to him, and he asked her to explain. .. But she’d gone on – almost hysterically…
“The monk knows about Jonah! He said we will see him soon! – – – I have to go back!”
Peter had been stunned. He wasn’t sure what to say. He did not want to puncture their hope, but he found it hard to believe the Asian had not simply investigated their history before attacking the illuminator in the lab in Colorado…
“Listen, honey, I think we have to be very careful. We can’t just trust this man; we know what he’s capable of… He could easily have found out about Jonah from past articles in the press… For God’s sake, he’s just trying to get rid of you!”
Marisako whispered in the phone: “No – I think he’s the real thing, Peter; I think he is the real thing – a man of God. I think he knows things…. He is very, very devout.”
“Wait a ding minute!” Peter had shouted. “This is a man who kicked me in the groin!”
Peter yearned for his wife, and to hold her and reassure her. He knew the one and only thing in the entire universe that could make Marisako irrational – was the desire to see their son again. He knew that arguing would only make the situation worse. On the other hand, he knew Marisako possessed deep, deep intuition about the true nature of people…
Peter begged his wife. “Please, please be careful, honey… Keep your guard up. There is so much we do not know and which makes no sense.”
After hanging up, he realized Marisako had not even asked about the news reports of coyote massacre making their way around the world. And then he dared ask himself one question: Could it be true our son will be found?
He looked at the colonel sitting next to him, with a ramrod straight back – and out at the forest along the road into Lac La Ronge… He seemed to be losing control of everything – his timeline, his property, his freedom, his wife, Jenny, the news cycle – except for one thing – getting the illuminator to work and finding out what it could do. He could not but help think: there is more than science going on here… And deep down, he did know there were things far deeper than science. He looked out the front window and saw the hospital approaching. Like good, beauty, truth, humility… And their opposites… Like evil, repulsiveness, lies and pride…
Chapter Twenty-Seven – Jonah
Marisako looked out of the window of a huge Airbus 380, and down toward the snow white glistening peaks of the Alps. A glass of French Cabernet Sauvignon stood on first class polished mahogany inlaid fold-table in front of her, but she had not touched it. For her heart had been racing since she’d heard her son’s voice…
Mom – Hold me.
Marisako had brusquely left Jenny in the hotel room in San Marino, with tears streaming down her cheeks, and had bribed officials to get her on a small plane from San Marino City down to Rome, where she had been able to get the expensive and as yet unbooked First Class Airbus ticket to New York. Her heart told her that Jenny would be alright – as she was now convinced that the Asian devil might actually be a Catholic Capuchin monk. That bothered her a lot – to think that she and the Asian might share their faith together… If that is true – he must be very, very misguided… And yet – I am on my way to meet Jonah – which he predicted…
It still does not make any sense…. she had repeated to herself numerous times. Why would a Capuchin monk of all people want to destroy our illuminator?!! She had been planning to go back to meet him on the next Sunday, to try to understand so many things – but right after Jenny and she had caught up with all the goings on with regard to the illuminator team, the phone had rung… It was Jonah, their son.
Mom – hold me.
And Marisako – so deliberative, so in control at all times, so smart and so confident – had fallen onto the hotel bed in tears and wailing – as her and Peter’s most fervent prayer had just been fulfilled – that they might know if their beloved son were still alive…
She had collected herself, and left multiple messages on Peter’s phone – but of all days he had not checked his phone yet. What does this mean? What will happen to everything when he finds out?
She calmed herself, and looked out the window once more and had a sip of the wine – and then silently said many prayers of thanksgiving to God for what had just transpired. And she was trying to make sense of it all. She knew, she knew – that if she could just understand what was going on, everything would become so much clearer. And she was incredibly frustrated – for she knew that the enigmatic Asian knew so much more – but now it would be up to Jenny to try to get more information out of him. And as much as she liked Jenny – she was not sure that Jenny was able to understand many, many things – especially religion – and the forces which rule the world… That monk predicted what would happen; that is impossible, is it not? she asked herself. Did the saints have predictive powers? And God was supposed to know all things – to stand astride of time, and thus to include the future. Unless… she thought… But her thoughts were interrupted by the steward, who asked her what she wanted for dinner. She waved him off, as she had lost all her appetite…
Right now – more than anything else in the world, in the entire universe – she just wanted to hold Jonah once again. To be able to do so would erase in a moment of love all the years of misery and horror they had all been through…
She leaned back in the sumptuous electronically controllable seat. There were so many memories…
For she and Peter had had the magic wedding – in a beautiful church high up in the Rockies, and then they had honeymooned on a remote island in the Bahamas. They had both wanted to start a family right away – and so – on the honeymoon, they had gotten right down to accomplishing that task – joyfully and blissfully – in full love and dedication to each other and to a complete and full life together… It had been the first time Marisako had been with a man – as she had saved herself for the man she had been faithfully waiting and praying for – and Peter had been gentle and loving and generous and caring as their marriage was consummated in the deep and true and infinite love that can only be experienced in marriage…
But over many months of ardent love-making, Marisako had not become pregnant. Not then, not later, not in that year, or in any ensuing year, not after meeting with scores of specialists, not after having Peter thoroughly and embarrassingly checked out, not after many prayers… It had been the hardest setback she had ever had to deal with in her whole life, and she had struggled in her faith to not become bitter, to not blame God, to not hurt their marriage in her disappointment… She had looked out at so many who took their children for granted… And more than anything, she had prayed for understanding…
And at five years into their marriage, they had realized that barring a miracle it was not going to happen. So they had decided to adopt. And they had adopted a little boy from Marisako’s seaside village in Japan, who had lost his parents in a fishing accident. They received him at age two, and had showered him with love. Her maternal instincts had come to the fore, bringing her great joy and purpose. And she could see how happy Peter was to have a son, and to play with him, and teach him things – like how to throw a ball, and how to carve sticks with a knife, and how to become a young man… And all had been well until a few years later, when they realized that Jonah had certain tendencies which were off… He had an addictive nature, and had trouble disciplining and controlling himself. He had gotten into trouble on innumerable occasions. At then at age twelve, he had gotten into a friend’s alcohol cabinet, and nearly killed himself after drinking a full bottle of brandy. By the time he was fourteen, he was doing drugs of all sorts, in addition to the alcohol… From 14 to 18, he had been in over five different establishments, all of which promised to help him free himself of the chemicals to which he was so deeply already addicted. During that time, he had run away twice… He had never graduated high school…
For all their love, and all their concern for their son – they had not been able to release him from the draw of the drugs and alcohol… He told them he knew they loved him; but he could not break free – the pull was so strong. He had to have the drugs to cope, he told them. They begged him to rely on his faith. And that – that had proven also to be a monumental struggle for him – in that he had tried to mimic the beautiful and deep and joy-sustaining Christian faith that came so easily to his mother and father – but had failed at that as well. He simply did not feel or discern the presence of God in his life the way they and most of the world did. And between the drugs and that failure, Jonah the young man had despaired of ever making his parents happy and had run away for good, right after he turned eighteen. He had vowed not to go back until his life was turned around. But then that had not happened either – though he had just barely managed to exist and to survive… And though Jonah knew he was killing them by staying away, he knew it would kill them more to see him the way he had become…
And Marisako had known immediately from his voice on the phone in San Marino that he was not fully free of his addictions. It did not matter; all she wanted to do was to see him again, and to hold him. We will not forsake you, son, no matter what… No matter what… And the plane seemed to fly so slowly in that strange limbo of frozen events that she eventually drifted off into an exhausted and troubled sleep…
And upon landing, and exiting the customs area at JFK, she saw him standing there, waiting for her… His hair was thinner, and receding, and his face drawn and gaunt, but he was standing there, all by himself…
She dropped her bags, walked up to him and hugged him with all her might, as he did her. Oh baby… she whispered. You did not have to hide from us…
Mama, he whispered… I saw daddy on TV. I thought he might be in trouble… I just suddenly knew I had to help if I could…
Chapter Twenty-Eight – Miracles
Peter and Jason and Lucas entered the hospital with their portable illuminator, and the blue cube signaling a major anomaly on the second floor, right where Dip’s room was. They had rushed up the stairs, run down the corridor with the apparatus, and barged in on him. They did not know what they had expected to see, but all they did see was Dip in his hospital gown hobbling back from the bathroom on crutches. He tried to turn when they came in, dropped one of the crutches, lost his balance, and then almost fell. Lucas caught him and helped him to sit on the bed.
Dip smiled, but spoke quietly, as he was still in much pain: “Fellas, it’s great to see you! My leg hurts like hell…” Dip looked a little dazed, and a bit taken aback when he realized they weren’t that interested in him right at the moment…
Peter spoke: “Dip – is there anything at all unusual going on in here? Do you feel strange in any way?”
Dip could see the blue cube and the anomaly readings on the illuminator.
“Wait! Is there an anomaly going on right here? I feel completely normal!”
Peter held up Dip’s leg to look at the wound. Nothing different.
Peter laughed. “God damn! There’s nothing unusual going on at all.” He spun around to face Jason and Lucas. “Are you guys sure the anomaly’s in this room?”
Lucas spoke, as he was in charge of the computer navigation and pinpoint location system. “It’s either here or real close.”
Peter walked out of the room and looked down the hallway. There was nothing – although – there was some noise from the room next door. He walked over quietly and looked in.
Standing in front of the curtains by the window, there was a beautiful woman – radiant really – holding her baby – obviously just born. A small group of men and women and a Catholic nun stood with her, as sun rays poured through the window. The joy in the room was overflowing. He naturally smiled when he saw the woman, and she smiled back. He nodded and mouthed the word: “Congratulations…” She bowed her head.
He then walked up and down the hall looking for anything at all unusual – as the sustained anomaly indicated something incredibly rare and improbable happening in the universe. But he just didn’t see it.
He reentered Dip’s room and shrugged. “I don’t the hell get what’s going on.”
They all sorta laughed – but the disappointment was palpable. Jason spoke up: “Look, it’s clear the illuminator was picking up those coyotes. That was strange, to say the least. I don’t know about the prayer thing Abu was telling us about; a kid praying in a dark alley – maybe it had nothing to do with the illuminator at all. Maybe there was something else going on that Abu didn’t see. And besides, the illuminator could be picking up anomalies of the invisible physics in the room – neutrino flux, EM waves, something like that. We wouldn’t be able to see it. A good portion of the universe is completely invisible to us…”
Lucas broke in. “No, I think Abu was led to that boy. And there is something happening right nearby, and we’re just missing it…”
Jason shrugged.
And Dip, now propped up on a pillow, and a little hurt that they were completely ignoring him – asked if they would get him a soda.
Jason laughed: “Sure, buddy.”
Lucas and Jason left the room and went down the hallway to the vending machine, which resided in a little fluorescent alcove. There were two doctors getting their own drinks, in front of them.
They were startled by the conversation, which they could not help but overhear: “She had stage five cancer, and her body was completely shutting down, just as she gave birth. It’s a blessing that we did not have to extract the baby from a dead woman. Then today, she’s in the best health she’s been in since last year. “
“Are you running tests?” asked the second doctor.
“Everything – the full gamut. – But it looks from her blood work like the cancer is suddenly receding – rapidly. I’ve only seen something like this once before in all my years.”
The second nodded. “I can tell you a couple of stories – the kind that all doctors know about…”
The first: “From my exam this morning, I think we might be looking at a full blown recovery from stage five cancer.”
The second doctor was quiet. Then he said softly: “The more you’re in this career, the more you see things that you just can’t explain. I’m really glad for her. She’s a radiant woman with a beautiful baby….”
Jason and Lucas returned to the room, and recounted what they’d heard.
Peter looked up, focusing intensely. He told them what he had seen in the next room.
Dip spoke up: “Thanks bros for the pop…” And then slugged down a half a can in several big gulps.
He wiped his mouth: “So what you’re saying fellows, is that right next door there’s a miracle happening…”
Peter took a sharp breath in – indeed, that was exactly what he was thinking.
Jason scoffed: “We know absolutely nothing about that woman. Everything in this universe is explainable by science. Miracles don’t happen.”
Peter’s cell phone rang. It was his son.
Chapter 30 – Radical Thoughts
They left the cabin at five in the morning, before the sun was fully up above the hazy horizon, and as the first less than subtle hints of the autumn were descending like snowish whispers from the north pole. They had thought that Colonel Breckinworth’s men would be asleep in their tents, but to their surprise, found two soldiers with rifles posted and on guard duty right outside the cabin’s door. Had they been there every night? Peter told the soldiers the truth of where they were going, in the hopes that they would not wake the Colonel. The pool of reporters and their trailers, vans and tents lay out past the edge of the cabin property and the cabin driveway, strewn along the little road which led to the bigger road into town. Peter assumed that the reporters were also asleep, probably after having posted late night dispatches about the team’s frantic trip to the hospital with the portable illuminator in hand. My God, thought Peter, did the illuminator show us a miracle under way? And he thought of that radiant young woman, with her beautiful baby in her arms… A woman who was supposed to be at death’s door…
They walked down to Peter’s longboat, with its small Evinrude motor and gas can, started the engine, and putted out slowly across the placid and turbid early morning waters to the fir-forested island just a bit north of Peter’s cabin and out toward the middle of the lake. Dip was with them, as he had been released from the hospital. But his leg was still wrapped in bandages, and he had had to be helped down to the lake and into the boat. He sat now in the bow of the boat, with his leg stretched out, while Peter manned the engine and ruddered the boat. Peter did not rev the engine much, in the hopes that no one would awaken.
They had spoken briefly in whispers, while the radio was blasting music the night before in the cabin… They had felt constrained about speaking about what they had seen in the hospital in the car, because Breckinworth insisted on sitting with them – and to a man – they also all believed the cabin had now been bugged by the US feds. Peter would not have been surprised if the cabin were bugged by the reporters as well. The physics team had tons of electronic equipment, and knew how to and might have been able to debug the cabin, but it would have taken precious time and effort, and would only push the powers-that-be to find a better and more sophisticated way to track their conversations. They were being constrained and pressured on all fronts, almost prisoners now in Peter’s little cabin, and had taken this early morning tactic to just try to be alone.
So – Peter had whispered his little plan, which they were now executing…
As he expertly piloted the little boat, Peter’s mind raced. We are discovering things far beyond what we had hoped to find. It is going to change the world. But how shall we bring this discovery off, how are we to present it to the world? What will we say? And what exactly are we discovering? And behind everything, Peter wondered: Are we even ready for this? He sighed, and looked out over the sparkling gem blue lake, and thought back to his turbulent days as a teen. He thought of his good grandpa, and smiled. Why do we do the things we do? Why do we live such complicated lives? Marisako and I could live out our days here and enjoy the beauty and splendor of this spot for the rest of our earthly existence – a little slice of heaven in a troubled world… Peter upped the throttle a bit, eager to reach the island and to have the conservation he (and they) knew they needed to have. And then…
And then he would have to leave the team for a little while – right in the the middle of the most intense part of their research. He would put Jason in charge temporarily. He drew in some of the fresh, bio-rich, water-smelling air from the lake. My God, my God, our son has been found!!! Like his beloved Marisako, he had felt both faint and blessed when he had heard Jonah’s voice on the phone. His most fervent prayer of over two decades had been answered, in a way he could hardly have imagined… And he knew he had to go… He had to see Marisako and he had to see Jonah, and they had to be together again as a family, if but for a brief instant… He yearned for that joyous moment when they could all embrace each other, cry, and laugh, and go out to dinner, and watch a movie together… He yearned to hug his son with all his might. He yearned to look into his son’s eyes once again… After this meeting I go. And that is probably good all around… He gunned the engine some more – its revs ratcheting up with his many-faceted determination…
They reached the island after about thirty minutes on the water. They docked the boat at a dilapidated and forgotten little pier, and Peter led them a short ways up a path which he knew well. Dip put his arms across the shoulders of Lucas and Jason, on either side, and they half-lifted, half-carried Dip up the short hill and into the forest. A short ways therein, they were surprised to come upon a sort of a bowl-shaped amphitheater, carved smoothly and sinuously out of stone – apparently by water thousands of years ago. The theater, as he had always called it, reminded Peter of his layered physics classroom back at the university – for you could sit at different levels, and look down to the flat central location. Peter had come here often as an angry young man, and practiced his acting skills, and his oration skills, and his karate skills, and his archery skills, all in naturally luxurious and secluded privacy.
So they sat down – each appropriating a little spot for himself in the stone-hewed amphitheater. And as Peter collected himself, he knew that they had to get a handle on what was happening, and on what they thought about it, and on what they were going to show the world, and deeper down, what they really thought was going on… He had many disturbing thoughts; he knew his team did as well. He also knew this was going to be a contentious conversation. Because if what he thought was happening was true, the world was going to be rocked from the inside out…
Peter stepped into the center of the little natural amphitheater… “Gentlemen…” he croaked. He was uncharacteristically nervous. Phlegm had backed up in Peter’s throat as he strove for the right beginning…
“As you know, the illuminator is working… It is indeed showing us regions in time and space of highly – no vastly – improbable quantum wave function activity, before those wave functions collapse into reality… And it is also showing us that highly improbable wave function activity can be sustained, and indeed is sustained in different situations in this world. Whatever is happening, and whatever this means, it shows conclusively, I believe, that wave function collapse is not always according to the probabilities that quantum mechanics predicts – that as quantum possibility waves seek out all possible futures before becoming reality, they do not always do so randomly – according to the constraints put on them by potential energy wells… Or put another way – something is causing sustained and highly improbable occurrences to occur in this universe…
Jason raised his hand. “Peter, I think we should be careful… Perhaps there is a larger randomicity that we cannot yet see, and perhaps these sustained wave function improbabilities are merely choppy waves that take shape momentarily on a choppy but larger random sea of quantum possibilities…”
Peter reflected for a moment. “I have to disagree, Jason. There is no larger sea – that we know of – or have any reason to suspect. Rather, it is as if a wave formed on the ocean and took on the shape of a beautiful woman for twenty minutes, before collapsing back down into the ocean. The anomalies are sustained and last for significant periods of time… They are creating a specific non-probabilistic determined future in small previously unidentifiable areas of the universe… Or at least sustained moments of determination in the probabilistic quantum universe…”
Jason came back: “But we know that quantum possibility waves always collapse according to certain probabilities into the future – which is why in quantum mechanics we can so accurately measure the probability of future occurrences…”
Peter turned his head, again in disagreement. “We know that such is true in different experiments we have thus far conducted, with atoms and electrons and so forth in the lab – but that certainly does not mean it is true in all cases – or that it is always true with larger quantum wave function agglomerations. If I see ten white roses, it does not mean that red roses may not exist – right? What the illuminator is showing, to my way of thinking, is that there are sustained and unusual non-random occurrences happening – with some frequency actually, in this universe – and for the first time ever, we have a scientific way of finding and analyzing them… The illuminator is working – it is indeed illuminating something which before this time, we simply had no way of seeing…”
Lucas growled out a sentence, in his characteristic blunt and to-the-point Serbian way. “I agree with Peter; I think this is clearly non-quantum-random – which leads to all sorts of other potential conclusions…”
Jason shook his head vehemently…
Peter spoke again. “Let’s consider what we’ve observed with the illuminator. We’ve seen conclusively that it is reading the quantum wave function realm, from which we think all reality condenses. It is seeing at least part of how reality is formed, before it is formed. We are seeing something about quantum possibility waves – which physics always told us existed – through inference only – which we could never before directly see, measure or touch. And what have we seen in that realm? Significant highly improbable and sustained events unfolding – in selected places. What events? – – Well, we have the illuminator leading us to a scared and hunted boy praying in an alleyway in Marseilles… And we have strange coyote/wolf halfbreeds with black eyes, showing up on the illuminator, along with us ourselves, sporadically, as we are hunted and chased by them… And then, we have a woman in a hospital undergoing a transition from stage five cancer and certain death to complete good health in just two days… What is the connecting link among all these incredible events??!”
Jason spoke: “You are assuming a link…”
There was a sustained quiet, as each man thought to himself.
Finally Lucas spoke boldly: “Personally, I think it has to do with the divine.”
There was a long uncomfortable silence…
Lucas continued. “And with good and evil – and with the holy and the profane – with the forces of good and evil in this world…”
Silence reigned again…
Then Jason burst out laughing – tauntingly. “Fuck, Lucas. You don’t even believe in God!”
Lucas turned toward him: “Not true, Jason. I do – and in real intrinsic good and evil – something real that science has never been able to touch – until now…”
Jason scoffed: “What?! Are you kidding me? You who spend almost all of your free time chasing and boinking pretty girls?!”
Lucas looked down at the polished rock. No one spoke. Lucas responded, his mouth clenched: “It is true; I am weak around beautiful women, and I like to be with them. I like women and I like sex. What man doesn’t? Beautiful women are a huge temptation with me. – – – But I am Serbian Orthodox – a true believer actually. I never advertise that; I am ashamed to, given my behavior. I have used more women sexually than I can name – and then discarded them…” He looked over at Dip. “But deep down, I don’t believe that’s good, and I believe I’m only a shadow of a man until I join with the opposite sex to make a greater and complete whole, and bring into this world new human life, and love and care for the children I help beget – and love and care for the woman I’ve joined with to help create them.” A sudden and surprising ripple of extreme sadness and humility crossed over Lucas’ face: “Actually – I hope I can find the strength I need to be faithful to one woman one day, and to my future family. I never thought it would be so difficult, but for me, it is… My sexual temptations with women are like a curse…”
Jason started to reply. But Lucas wasn’t finished, and he collected himself. – – “Let me tell you; like the vast majority of humans in this world, I believe that there is something above us, something which is the source of all that is intrinsically good and beautiful and true and right… You know – those are precisely those things that Plato couldn’t find a source for through reason… or more accurately which through reason he believed had to lie beyond the material world… For my penny, the illuminator is showing us ‘top-down’ action from above – both from that which is good, and from that which is evil…
Peter wanted to say something, but Jason cut in – alarmed: “I can’t believe I should have to say this to a scientist – but this is all in your little religious imagination! There is no God; there is nothing above or beyond us. We are it; we are the highest of what we know. The universe is one giant fucking quantum random accident, and so are we… Hell – we’re nothing more than random mutational accidents ourselves. We’re just random Darwinian biomachines who happen to like to argue about such because of our genes – which were created through completely random mutations – random mutations which happen to help us survive… There is no intrinsic meaning to life – as much as so many humans want there to be; life is only about whatever the hell our random genes tell us we want it to be about…! You believe in God, Lucas, because your random genes cause you do to so… It’s an illusion – no – actually, a delusion…”
Lucas stood up, turning pugnacious, punching the air: “Well – I can readily and easily discern the presence – and action – of good and evil in this world, and I believe they are real – along with beauty… I think there are things – deep things – which reside behind the world we see with our eyes – just like there are so many, many things known to physics which are completely invisible to our senses – radio waves, neutrino flux, gravitational perturbations, the particle nature of matter, the flow of entropy, and so on. All those things would be invisible to humanity – if we had not developed and engineered a means to reveal them. They are real; we had just not developed a means to ‘illuminate’ them. The same is true, I would hypothesize, about the operation of intrinsic good and evil in this world.”
Jason spat on the ground in contempt.
Lucas went on: “Hey. Stop and think! You can discern the truth of many things, even if you cannot see them directly. And not all real things are measureable by scientific machines. You cannot measure with a machine the real love between a man and his wife, or of parents for their children, or the brotherly love between a soldier and his fellow soldiers; you cannot measure with the machine the beauty encapsulated in Beethoven’s 9th, or in Monet’s Child in the Artist’s Garden – or the hatred with which some seek to maim and kill and annihilate – yet that love and that beauty and that hatred are no less real! There is more to this universe than the equations of physics – as completely amazing as they are. I know man; I’m from Serbia. The hatred – and the love – are real. And yeah – I don’t think that beauty is the result of a random genetic mutations that makes my random Darwinian mind delusionally think it’s there. I think it’s actually there! I think beauty is real, and that is has been placed there to remind us and entice us up toward heaven, from whence it originates… And hey – miracles are real, my friend. I’ve personally experienced them. You may not have – and I deeply pity you if you haven’t; but I have. So have my kin, and my ancestors… So have many in this world today. It’s not that I’m delusional; it’s that you are blind to deep aspects of reality…”
Jason snickered. “You are making up religious fairy tales in your mind.”
Lucas answered back: “No – I’ve just experienced things you have not. If things do happen from the top-down, which so many can discern – through all sorts of indirect evidence – then there must be a top… You’re afraid of what we’re seeing directly, instead of indirectly, for the first time with a new scientific instrument – the illuminator… It’s disturbing you, isn’t it?”
And for the first blink of a moment, Jason looked unsure. He shot back: “What do you think Nina would say? And what about Abu? They’re scientists, God damn it!!! Do you think they think there’s some good and evil force in this world – like in Star Wars? May ‘the force’ be with you? Do you think they are so detached from reality as to believe that?”
Peter tried once again to engage , but Lucas, heated, cut back in: “Actually, Abu believes deeply in real good and evil – and in all sorts of supernatural stuff – just like most Africans. They discern the same realities of good and evil that so many of the religious do. And who knows what Nina believes in; she never talks. And you know what else? I think you feel guilty about your baby you want to murder…!”
Jason spun around. “You goddam fucker!” – and he punched Lucas in the gut – with a force far greater than he really meant. Lucas bowled over, groaned, recovered, and then took a mad big swipe at Jason, knocking the side of his head hard…. Jason fell sideways, losing his balance, and tumbled onto the hard rocks, scraping his face and his leg…
Dip grabbed his arm and helped him up, while Peter came up behind Lucas and grabbed him forcefully from behind, encircling his arms.
“Fellows!’ shouted Peter. “We’re all allowed to believe what we do, for the reasons we do! And I’m sorry, Jason, I know well how you feel about these things. You are a materialist atheist – a man who has deep faith that there is nothing behind anything. But I tend to agree with Lucas about what I personally think is happening – and you are entitled to your beliefs about all the deep things as well. Let’s not forget that we are here, regardless of what we believe about such deep things, to do science… We are joined in this quest to get at the truth, whatever that may be – and indisputably, the illuminator is shining light on things which were previously not directly seen, and which many thought to lie beyond the reach of physics… Our duty as scientists is to show the world what we have found, yes? And then we go from there – as we leave it to both ourselves and the world to explore and try to understand what we are seeing. As scientists, we could all agree on that, could we not?”
But Jason was angry – shaking his head: “This is fucking batshit crazy! Are you telling me that some of you believe that we are touching on the so-called ‘supernatural?’ – and on ‘real good and evil’ – and on your made-up God!!?” That’s religious myth and fairy-tales from centuries of brainwashing of human beings! There is no real good or evil in this world; good and evil is just things we do or don’t that we either like or don’t. Stalin murdered tens of millions, to bring about economic equality. Who’s to say he was wrong?! He thought he was doing good! He just had a different morality – that most people don’t like! There’s nothing wrong at all with my killing my unborn baby; there’s no ‘right’ to life – as there’s absolutely nothing above us to create such a right… I’m doing the baby a favor because I don’t fucking want it – and it’s fucking legal – and I’m going to get rid of it!”
Peter turned to Jason: “Jason – you are not being open-minded here. You are welcome to your beliefs; as is anyone on this team. Anyone on the team is also welcome to develop theories about what we are seeing – and to argue about them. That’s what most all people do in general with regard to all the deep and unanswered questions in life… That’s how people form their worldviews…”
Jason put his head down – looking at Peter in the eye. “I can’t fucking believe this; I thought we were scientists. Scientists cannot possibly believe in stuff like this. – Dip – come to my aid, man…”
Dip, who had been listening intently, and solemnly, suddenly chuckled, with an innocent light-hearted mirth that cut through the bitterness… “No I believe in God – Jason – not just because of my upbringing – but for all sorts of reasons – and also, because of what my heart and conscience tell me about what I see in this world. And hey – if everything we do and are is just the result of random genes in a random universe, then everything is truly meaningless – including this conversation. Then there is no real point to anything. But I don’t believe everything is meaningless. I think there is deep meaning to life. And I still think I can do science, yeah? – where we look at what happens in the world and try to explain the underlying realities which influence or control what we see… Like Newton’s 2nd Law… Something had to have brought Newton’s 2nd Law into existence, right, and made it apply across the universe? – – Unless the magnificent equations of Newton and Einstein and Maxwell and Boltzmann and how they fit together are simply a one in a trillion bazillion bazillion random events – all come together by accident to make a working universe with life…
Jason spat on the ground again, right in front of Lucas’ feet. Lucas glared at him.
Dip looked really serious. “Apart from all of that Jason – the science stuff, for all its amazing wonders, is actually the little stuff in life the way I see it… I’ve seen miracles too, man… And I saw another one yesterday… The Good Book says that those who are pure of heart will see God… My heart’s not always pure, but when it comes close, I see God and miracles everywhere. Do you remember that movie, Signs? In it, the father says there are two sorts in the world – those who see everything as just coincidence – and those who see signs and miracles… I see God, despite my unpure heart, in everything from a child’s smile, to the birth of a child, to a soldier’s laying down his life for his buddies, to a mother and father loving creating and raising and sacrificing for their children, and yearning for them throughout all their lives, to Mother Theresa’s giving her life for the poor and horribly downtrodden – to this team – striving valiantly to understand the universe into which we were born…”
Jason broke free of Dip’s hold – and then he added: “I don’t fucking believe in miracles…”
Lucas, angry for having been spat at, shot back: “Bullshit. You’re a quantum physicist. You know better than almost everyone on this planet that miracles are perfectly possible according to physics… A particle can, according to what we already know about physics, disappear from here and appear instantaneously at the far end of the universe… A man can walk through a wall… A cat can be alive and dead at the same time… A million molecules can most certainly spontaneously rearrange themselves to undo a cancer…”
Jason, sullen, walked away from them, as if he was about to leave. But he turned: “Yes, fine. I admit the miracles are actually possible, according to quantum physics. But the odds of them happening are de minimus – as de minimus as can be…”
Peter could not help but think: Or so many thought…
Jason continued on walking down toward the boat. Peter called after him: “Wait!”
He looked at his team – forlorn – because he had known from the outset that this would be how the conversation would go – but also glad – for he knew they had to get this all out in the open. He tried to rally them – as he knew all good leaders take care of their troops. “Gentlemen… We’ve discovered something powerful and important and different – I know we all agree on that. Let’s get to work discovering more… Our job is to discover – even if we cannot know or interpret everything we’ve found. We have three weeks before we present all of this to the world. As we proceed, we will try to understand… The only thing I will insist on is free, open and honest discussion among us – even when we disagree… – and I am opposed to taking anything off the table just because it makes us uncomfortable or our personal feelings are hurt… But with regard to Paris, we will simply present our observations. Then we will let the world have at it, and try to figure out what the hell is really going on…”
Peter put his hand on Jason’s back – trying to assuage him. “I’m leaving for three days to see my son – who has been found – and to check in on Nina. I’m putting you in charge – as you are the second-in-command. I have faith in you – and in each of you to continue our scientific quest – to wherever it leads – even if the conclusions are upsetting to any of us – and to get us to our objective in one short month’s time…”
Jason bucked up slightly with being put in charge, but still – they ended up leaving with less trust for the other than they had had before the day had begun. The truth was, a rift in understanding – a deep emotional, intellectual and spiritual one – had opened up among them…
Chapter Thirty-One – Abu in Malta
Abu and Bando and Dudani had had a rough time of it, coming into Malta… They had been sighted and boarded by the Maltese Coast Guard, about twenty miles off the island, and had been immediately arrested for child trafficking and illegal entry into the tiny sea-surrounded country. And then they had spent two days and two nights crammed into a huge communal jail cell in Valletta with about three hundred boat people who were fleeing the depredations occurring in their native North African homelands. Many were Christians fleeing the torture, the crucifixions, the executions, the beheadings, the child kidnapping and rape by ISIS predators, who had now infiltrated Libya and Tunisia and Algeria from their base camps in what was left of Syria and Iraq – a horrible evil dark terror that was spreading like wildfire across the Middle East and many parts of Africa, Central Asia and the Asian subcontinent – and which was growing, rather than being subdued by a morally weak and largely impaired world. Then on the third day, after finally being interviewed by obviously exhausted Maltese authorities, Abu had finally been allowed to retrieve from his boat his Togolese passport, Bando’s (fake – but exceedingly good fake and convincing) French passport, and to explain why they were transporting Dudani. Everything, of course, was just the opposite of what the Maltese police had originally assumed. After the interrogation, which went decently, the Maltese had granted them a two week visa, under the provision that they would agree to return Dudani to his native Burkina Faso – something which Abu had already sworn to himself he would personally do. Bando, however, was forbidden from selling his wares in Malta, and they had to check in with the police station each and every day of the two weeks they had been accorded. And they began to realize that without papers for Dudani, they faced an uncertain future in Europe, or even in France, from whence they had come. The alternative was to abandon the boy who had been kidnapped into slavery while tending cattle one day in the African Sahel, only a short ways from their homeland…
And that left the terrible and difficult question they had to face unanswered: Where would they go? In the meantime, the clock on the physics conference in Paris was inexorably ticking down…
Chapter Thirty-Two – Jenny Meets the Monk
Jenny was dazed and shocked at the events which had taken place. The Asian devil – monstrously – appeared to be an actual Capuchin monk, and an emotional Marisako had taken off to meet her son – after all these years – and right after the faux monk devil ninja had predicted that that would happen…
As she puttered around the little hotel room in San Marino, she angrily talked to herself for the umpteenth time: “How the hell can that fucking arrogant devil be a monk?!?” Worse yet – he had not lied to them once – that she could see – yet they had been incredibly deceived or misled in some way which she refused to believe she herself had anything to do with…
She was hesitant to report this news in her now eagerly awaited almost worldwide Illuminator Chronicles. The man is a conceited arrogant bastard who destroyed the scientific work of good men and women. He threatened me with a gun! If I now report that he is a monk who somehow helped Marisako find her son, some people will have sympathy for him. He’s a goddam fucking bastard!
It disturbed and annoyed her greatly that the story was not turning out the way she thought it should – that justice was not being carried out way she thought it ought to be. But it also intrigued and mystified her that he had connected so suddenly and viscerally with Marisako, and that he had successfully foreseen that she would be reunited with Jonah. There was something mysterious about the Asian monk devil – powerful almost – she had felt it both in the lab in Colorado and in the church in San Marino…
She got up, frustrated and now alone – with her baby son growing inside of her – and made herself some coffee – Caffe Etiopè said the fancy packet in Italian – with the little plastic coffeemaker on the hotel room desk… She had taken care to eat well for her son – but didn’t think a cup of coffee would matter that much. She put her hand to her abdomen, wanting so much to meet him in a few months. She almost said a prayer for him, but stopped – not wanting to go down that route.
On the far more practical side, she knew that as much as this all troubled her, it was indeed an incredibly interesting and intriguing and enigmatic twist to the story she had been running in the Denver Post, and which was now being syndicated around the world. She also reminded herself that as a journalist her first duty was to actually tell the truth (though hey – few journalists did anymore) – and to put her visceral feelings of anger and disgust for the monk aside. She started to tentatively tap out the headline of her next electronic dispatch: “Asian Devil Holed Up in San Marino Monastery; A Monk Hiding and Safe from American Law.” She knew she was inserting her own invective and bias into the headline, but she just couldn’t resist the temptation. At least she was honest in the article… And she knew full well that as soon as she wrote the inflammatory headline, she would have another banner article, and that millions of her followers would continue to track this amazing story. She also knew she had to find out what the monk planned next. Did he intend to leave the monastery? And if so, where, and to what destination? She did not think he was going to stay in San Marino – or that this was not his natural abode… Where the hell does he come from? What is his strange accent? Why was he never vaccinated against any disease? And what about those incredibly blue eyes? But most of all: Why the hell would a Capuchin monk from Asia destroy Peter’s and Jason’s team’s physics experiment? It made no sense; there was obviously much more to this mystery – which she would ferret out. He does not know who he is up against, she boldly told herself…
And then fortunately, almost by serendipity, she had discovered that the monks left the monastery on Sunday afternoons to walk through the city, and to buy supplies in the open-air market. And so she had waited two hours the day before in that market for the monks’ arrival, and she had not been disappointed.
She had come up from behind the Asian, as he was buying vegetables – and he had apparently just given some to a beggar who had come to sit in the market.
“We meet again,” he said, suddenly turning around. He had an onion in his hand, and his blue eyes bore at her intensely.
“Can we talk?” she asked confidently. She did not fear him here in the middle of the marketplace.
“For a short while,” he said.
“Are you really a priest?” she queried.
“No. I am an monk and a Catholic brother,” he replied. “I was called to follow the path of the divine at a very young age.”
“Are you happy that you did?” she surprisingly found herself asking. For like so many others in the world, she found it absolutely inconceivable that a man would give up sex, and material wealth, and technology – and so many other things – for any reason…
“Yes of course!” replied the monk. And then he laughed – with a carefree and open joy that disconcerted her – and which caused her to actually recoil… “It was my own free choice! I can leave my order any time I want. Did you not know – following the way of God is where the true joy is?”
Jenny was taken aback. A life of chastity and self-denial and contemplation and prayer and service? How could that possibly be joyful? Her old anger surged back…
“Why did you destroy the illuminator?!!” she demanded.
“I already told you, Jenny Barkeley; because it is a soul-wrecker. It is something conjured up by the forces of evil.”
She felt frustrated. “But how can it wreck a soul? – And it wasn’t conjured up by evil; it was invented by thoughtful and hard-working scientists!!!”
“Nay,” replied the monk. “It is designed to prevent the advance of freely chosen love and truth and goodness in this world…”
And whatever she had expected, that was not it. “That makes no sense to me at all,” she stammered.
He said: “I know. But one day it may. I pray that it will. Take care of your little boy.” And he turned and walked back to the group of monks – who were now returning to the monastery…
Her heart beating suddenly rapidly at the the thought of the child growing within here, she shouted after him. “When will you leave San Marino?”
Without turning, she heard him reply: “Soon, I fear.”
Chapter Thirty-Three – The Worship of Evil
Jason and Lucas – who had striven to get along together once Peter had left – and to commit themselves purely to the science at hand – were plunging through the dense late summer woods at dusk, with a GPS unit that had coordinates of a huge illuminator anomaly about six miles from the lake and behind the cabin – right in their own back yard… The blue cube had glowed bright with an intense quantum anomaly signature just as they were preparing dinner – and they had dropped everything to get the coordinates and to immediately get to the actual site of the quantum unrandom disturbance. Dip was being helped by reporters, and was still hobbling, and ten of Colonel Breckinworth’s armed men were immediately behind them – though Breckinworth himself was not with them. Jason and Lucas had also armed themselves, with lots of ammunition, unwilling to have another team member chewed up by beasts in the forest. Peter had left for Colorado to see his beloved family. Jason had alerted Peter and Abu and Marisako to what was happening over their secure (they hoped) and encrypted worldwide communications net.
They half-ran, half-loped for what seemed like an eternity – for six miles through dense woods is a long way – and as they came at last upon the designated GPS coordinates, they entered a mossy glen, covered by the vines and dead branches of long ill-fated trees. There was a makeshift table, made of stones which had been haphazardly stacked upon each other. And everywhere they looked, on the table, in the bushes, on the leaf-covered forest floor, there was blood, gore and animal parts…
There were the innards of animals, and their limbs, which looked as if they had been torn- not even cut – off the poor creatures, and heads – heads of chickens and goats and one which looked like the head of a fox… And the blood was fresh. Jason looked down at the floor of the forest and saw a little hoof, as if it had been shorn from a goat fetus… He had a sudden vision of his son in Jenny’s womb. Volcanically he vomited – as did several of the others. The smell of blood and the stench of it all was overpowering… Jason found himself shaking uncontrollably…
Colonel Breckinworth’s men cordoned off the area immediately, and called the police. It was obvious that there were trampled areas of the woods, which led off in the direction, Jason thought, of the road into town…
Lucas came up to him, with Dip – both pale and shaken. “Animal torture and sacrifice… Thank God it is not humans…” And he thought: Something was here that hate’s God’s creation…
Lucas found a shiny brass button on the forest floor and picked it up and kept it. One of the soldiers found a piece of paper – which looked like parchment. On it was written in the blackest of black ink: Fui quod es, eris quod sum…
Someone heard a noise… They all looked over to the edge of the dell. A coyote with black eyes stared back at them. Lucas held out his pistol, took careful aim and shot and hit it; blood spurted from its side; it howled and turned and ran into the forest…
Chapter Thirty-Four – The Leader Separates from His Team
Peter pulled his car into the parking lot at the university in Colorado. He looked out at the woods where he had run down the Asian monk who had put bullet holes in their first illuminator – and who had succeeded at putting him into the hospital – just a very short month ago. Damn! he thought, the one I shot at has something to do with getting our son back… It was so improbable and startling and unbelievable that he could not quite get a fix on how it all fit together – though he had been thinking about it continuously on the eight hour drive down from Saskatchewan…
And – no matter his thoughts about the Asian Devil – which were now very confused and still very, very sour – he had to admit he was grateful; he was so grateful down to the very bones of his soul. He had been granted his most fervent prayer of the past ten years – to be able to see their son Jonah once again…
The day before, he had arrived at the Schönbaum residence – up in the foothills of the Rockies. Jonah had answered the door, and father and son had awkwardly embraced. And in that embrace they had both cried, for different reasons – though for both, it was the painful/joyous cry of love – and while still crying, Jonah whispered to him that he was sorry for having caused them so much pain… And Marisako had beamed, and absolutely insisted that they talk about nothing serious, and had served them sandwiches and beer out on the hanging deck looking south over the magnificent Rocky mountain range. And despite all the emotion, they had managed to laugh, and recount some old times. And Jonah had joked about all of Peter’s boxes o’ stuff now piled up and warehoused in his room. “Nice welcome!” Jonah had joked.
And Peter had told Jonah that he knew that their house was always his house, for as long as they should live (and after) – and that Jonah should check and see what was in the boxes…
And Jonah had gone to his room, and realized that each box contained pictures and trophies and school certificates and scout patches – all arranged by year – and that there was one big empty box… And Peter, standing behind him, told him that that box was for the future, and that he could not wait to fill it up… And Jonah had broken into tears once more…
And when they had all recovered, they had all gone for a hike up to one of their favorite lookouts – as they had so many times in the past – that viewed out over the panorama of the Rockies about two miles from the Schönbaum property. And they had sat there at the secluded lookout, and Peter had led them in a short prayer – his favorite, the 23rd Psalm: “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul; He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness For His name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil…”
And in that short term recollection, Peter blinked his eyes, and exiting his reverie about the day past, looked up at the physics building and the math tower, and got out of his car. His phone rang. It was Lucas, calling on the group encrypted cell phone satellite channel… They had experienced yet another major quantum anomaly, not even six miles from the cabin… Peter felt his heart rate go up when he received the gory details…
Chapter Thirty-Five – The Effects of Evil
Peter was stunned by the news from Saskatchewan – and yet not stunned. He knew deep in his bones – the moment he had seen them – that the coyotes were evil. But if that’s so, why are both evil and a (supposedly) devout Catholic monk ninja trying to destroy the illuminator? And now apparently – some sort of Satanic animal-sacrifice group had been deliberately and sickeningly torturing nature’s creatures just a couple of leagues from his own beloved cabin along a pristine lake in Saskatchewan.
It was becoming quite clear to him – and he remembered well Lucas’ words on the island… The illuminator is picking up things related to intrinsic good and intrinsic evil… It is illuminating the battle between good and evil and that occurs all around us… No! Peter thought, it is illuminating the behind-the-scenes intervention of God and the forces of evil on this earth… He leaned against his car, his body shaking ever so slightly… Though he rarely spoke of it to those not Christian, he did indeed believe in demons and Satan and the reality of intrinsic evil. He believed, not only through revelation and faith – but from what he had seen in the world in his younger years (which included monstrous deliberate evil – existent for the sole purpose of destruction, cruelty, killing and chaos – and which took a great Satanic joy that cruelty) – and on top of that – he had had several supernatural experiences in his life – the most prominent one being when he saw, beautifully outlined against the roof of a church in Japan, a translucent angel fly over his son as he was baptized… Yes, he did believe. Yet… it was shocking to him that there might be a way to directly see that battle in the world, rather than discern it, as billions had through the ages, and that he, yes he, might end up having a hand in illuminating and demonstrating that conflict to the world… Is it meant to be illuminated? The question deeply haunted him, and not for the first time, he started to have some doubts about what they were doing. He remembered the words of the Asian Devil – the Asian Devil Catholic monk, he corrected himself…
With so many thoughts roiling him on the inside – and what they were all apparently up against – he walked into the elevator, and hit the elevator button for the top floor – Nina Zherbova’s ‘penthouse’ office – where she had stunned his team with her infinitely multi-dimensional parsing of a special subset of complex differential wave equations in Hilbert space – that he (and many very, very, smart mathematicians) had once thought completely unsolvable…
And he hoped that she was not deep into her antisocial personality disorder – which so often left her cut off from normal human interaction…
As he exited the elevator, he saw Nina sitting in her desk office chair by the giant floor-to-ceiling picture window that looked out over the university to the magnificent mountains beyond – the best office at the university… She looked frail – and pale. She rose slowly to meet him, and as if in slow motion kissed him gently on the cheek – in her so very Russian way – but, he noticed, without looking into his eyes…
“Zdrafctvuy, Nina. Kak tvayo zdorovie?” he managed, in his crusty and American-accented Cold War university Russian. She looked at last into his eyes, and he into hers – and he could immediately see something wrong, something off and horrible there – something different…
Her body was stooped, and she did not smile. She motioned for him to sit down, strikingly without offering him tea – or cha, as she usually called it…
Her eyes were turned downward, and hands clasped tightly together. She seemed to have trouble speaking – as if there was some internal battle going on within her. A seemingly long time passed, as she rocked slowly back and forth. “Peter, forgive me,” she finally managed to whisper, in a voice so soft that Peter was not quite sure he had heard it.
Peter knew not what to say.
“Nina, whatever for?” he queried gently.
She reached over and grasped his hand. “I have betrayed everyone.”
Peter smiled. “Nonsense! Without you, our entire project could never have happened.” And when he said that, Nina recoiled, suddenly becoming smaller and smaller in her little chair. And then he added: “You are going to be famous soon!”
Nina recoiled even more, as if hit by a hammer, and curled up backward even more into the corner of her sofa. There was a long silence, and then Peter realized he had made a mistake. Nina was sobbing, and shaking. He reached out to hold her hand, but she retracted it, with surprising force and vehemence…
She attempted to speak – ____ but the words wouldn’t come out for a very long time. “Peter, I will put everything right…” she managed to croak out. And then she simply would not say anything more.
Peter had eventually left, unable to console her, unsure of what was so profoundly troubling her. He had promised to keep her updated, but she seemed disturbingly to have lost interest in what they had for so long been working on.
Chapter Thirty-Seven – The Asian Devil Flees
With money from a huge advance from the Denver Post (doing quite well from the worldwide syndication of her articles), Jenny had hired a couple of professionals to effect a constant watch on the San Marino City Capuchin monastery door. And two days after she had confronted the Asian in the marketplace, he walked out the front door with a small bag. Her agents contacted her immediately, then followed him down the mountain from San Marino City as he walked once again in bare feet to the train station. They got on the train with him, but only first having discovered his intended destination. They called Jenny on her phone and told her. When she heard the news, her heart beat fast. The monk is going to Paris.
Chapter Thirty-Eight – Conference Call
Only a week and three days now remained until the conference in Paris, and Peter was sitting in a cheap workers’ hotel in Panama City – in a worn-down industrial section not far from the airport. Peter knew he had to get back to his team, quickly – but there was something else he had to do – one person in the world he had to see…
He had called for a linked telephone conference with the entire team, and was waiting for Marisako to set the whole thing up with the satellite communication encryption protocol. He looked out the window into the cement jungle of warehouses, car repair shops, junkyards and inexpensive fondas and baretos blaring with buoyant and upbeat Latin music… A lone palm tree grew out of the compacted soil next to the junkyard two blocks over – a lone reminder of what had once been…
The call came through, and he swiped the green disk on his plugged in cell phone – set to speakerphone… For the first time in a while, the whole team was together, if only by the marvel of modern technology…
Peter began by relating his strange meeting with Nina – which they all attributed to her growing and worsening fear of human contact. Jason suggested that she was probably reeling from the possibility of becoming famous – and what that might mean. That made complete sense, knowing her history of pathological shyness; but still, Peter was not sure. There had been something very, very deep troubling her. She had told him that she had had nightmares… And that had frightened him. He had not told the others, but he had had nightmares too – monstrous ones – worse even than what had appeared a few miles from his beloved cabin in Saskatchewan…
Forging on, he asked for a report from the #2 in charge – Jason. Jason updated him on the animal slaughter site; his voice sounded edgy. The others were silent. What did they think? Peter asked.
Abu spoke up, sitting in his boat in the harbor in Valetta: “It is somehow connected to the powers of good and evil – the battle between good and evil in the world…”
Peter’s adrenaline surged, but there was a protracted silence on the conference call – each thinking about the concordance of thought among Lucas, Peter, and Dip – and now Abu – and each not wanting to rehash the argument with Jason they’d had on the island and from which Abu had been spared. And in that silence, Jason realized with dismay that Abu was on essentially the same side as all the others.
What is he? Jason thought to himself. A witchdoctor animist from the village in Africa – where they believe in good and evil spirits that float through the forest… Is there not one actual scientist here?
Peter cut in finally – also wanting to avoid a rehash on speculations about what they were observing through the illuminator. “Remember, gentlemen… We are simply going to report on everything that’s happened, as scientists, and show the world what the illuminator has picked up. Thousands of others will pick up the banner after the conference, and the world will decide over time what might truly explain what we are, indeed, illuminating…”
Once again, and in the spirit of cooperation, Peter got them to agree to put their radically different interpretations of what was going on aside, and to focus on getting everything they needed to Paris from Saskatchewan. They had to prepare different parts of their presentation – from the many sheets of dense formulas used, solved by Nina, to the construction and operation of the illuminators – to the videos of what the illuminators had picked up. They were also being hounded and contacted non-stop from new organizations around the world – and being accused of hiding things in a veil of mystery – when in fact they were just trying to make the conference deadline so that they could be open about what they had discovered (or were discovering…). And Jenny’s articles, as usual, had not helped. The whole world was following the mystery of the Asian Devil in San Marino – and the whole world now knew that he had predicted the reappearance of the Schönbaum’s long lost son… The one help she had been was to discover that the Asian monk devil was headed for Paris. Marisako had already alerted the authorities in Paris – who were equipped and ready to locate – by various advanced means – and apprehend him the moment he came into the city.
And now from around the entire world, there were religious folks, visionaries from India, seers, denizens of the paranormal, ordinary people who were excited by the strangeness of the story which was unfolding, and of course, scientists – who as a whole were intrigued and reserved – who were all weighing in by the thousands in pieces and journals, magazines, blogs and newspapers.
In light of that, the team felt the intense pressure to plan out and make the best presentation they could of what they had discovered – to humbly show the world that they were serious scientists – with a shocking new discovery in physics. As for transportation from Canada to Paris, Colonel Breckinworth – following Presidential orders to get them there safely – had insisted that the US government transport them and all their equipment to Paris in an escorted Hercules Galaxy transport – which had already landed in Regina.
So after an hour of discussing all of that – their nitty-gritty plans to scrap through to Paris with what they needed, and how they were going to make the presentation – they then got down to discussing Abu’s dicey situation in Malta. For one, he had to get to Paris for the conference; he was a member of the core team. But then there was the question of what to do with his crude but working illuminator. Prudence suggested – with what they did not fully understand trying to impeded them – not having both their illuminators in the same place, and in not revealing its location. So they agreed that he would not bring it to Paris, and they would not reveal its existence, and that he would stash it in a safe and hidden place, far away from the prying eyes of the world… And in a unanimous vote, in great trust and wisdom, they hoped, they agreed that Abu would not even reveal its whereabouts to them…
Then there was the problem of Dudani – who did not have papers – fake or otherwise – and the nation of France. Abu was adamant that he could not abandon the boy, and Peter agreed – thinking of the terror and evil to which the boy had been subjected. There was no way they were going to prevent the boy from being reunited with his family. The plan they developed for the boy then, was to have Bando fly him to Togo, and take him to Abu’s and Bando’s village of Nanergou – where they would keep him safe and sound until they could locate Dudani’s nomadic Fulani herder community – which could literally be anywhere across a thousand mile swath of West Africa. Peter offered to put up the money necessary – a gesture which touched Abu greatly – knowing that Peter had done the same for him so long ago… Though this time, Abu agreed to throw in a sizeable chunk of his own dough. Abu thought: Africa will rise to lead the world. We will build with what is good and right, and with men and women – even young men – of courage like Dudani. I hope I have sons like him one day… And that then left a week and a couple of days for Abu – in possession of one of the only two working illuminators in the history of the world – to make his way – sans illuminator – to the conference in Paris…
On that Dip suggested that Abu gin up the illuminator in Malta – and find out what they could… Perhaps there would be more anomalies… That certainly made sense; they did not want to not use the illuminator to its fullest, prior to the conference.
But then Lucas threw in an interesting and out-of-the-box alternative…
“Listen boys… We should deploy it to where we think it will ‘see’ the most, quantum anomaly-wise…”
Peter was momentarily taken aback. “But how would we know where there are going to be more anomalies?”
Lucas honed in on his idea. “Twice – it’s picked up what most of us – Jason excepted – would call miracles – once when Dudani was saved from child slavers in a back alley in Marseilles – while praying – and once when a woman was cured of stage five cancer as she gave birth to her daughter. Let’s take it to where more miracles are said to occur than almost any other place in the world…”
Dip broke in: “the Bible belt?”
They all laughed, except Peter and Lucas. “No, but that’s the right idea,” continued Lucas. “I’m thinking Lourdes – the Catholic spiritual site in southern France, where literally millions of Catholics come every year from every corner of the Earth to pray and be healed… Many, many documented miracles have occurred there – since a young girl – Bernadette Soubirous – saw visions of the Virgin Mary there in the last century and revealed a powerful underground spring… Thousands have been healed since, both body and soul – and often from incurable diseases – as a result of contact with the waters there… Many millions more have been healed spiritually… I was there once; I have never seen so many crutches given up; so many prayers answered; there are thousands every day who are touched by God there…”
There was a the familiar awkward silence… If you believed, like the third of the world that was Christian, it made sense; if you did not, it did not. They all knew Jason was likely to throw a fit.
But yet he surprised them: “I’m in,” he said softly, at last. “You say miracles exist; I say they don’t. Let’s start an experiment and see if there is any pronounced likelihood of anomalies at Lourdes – to see if there’s anything special there – below the surface of our reality – in the deep quantum realm… I am not afraid of what we will find; are you?”
And so in an strange agreement that was based on deep disagreement – but in the spirit of doing true science – and almost akin to a bet – it was decided that Abu – on his own, with the illuminator – would take the train (so as to avoid airport security) to Toulouse, France, and make his way to Lourdes by car… There he would spend his last few pre-conference days with the illuminator in operation before hiding it and making his way to Paris to meet at last with the team and to make their presentation to the world…
Finally, at the end of the long electronic satellite-connected meeting, Peter revealed that he was sending Jonah to help with the team, and that Jonah would take over Dip’s factotum role, and that Dip would be promoted to a full-fledged member of the team. As Peter said: “If a man can have his leg almost chewed off in loyal service to our team, he IS a member of our team.” Peter could imagine Dip beaming at the news. Peter also told them that he was not sending Jonah to be ‘helped’ by them; he was sending him to help. It was, he hoped, a win-win situation for the team and for Jonah. But if Jonah did not actually help, they were to tell him and he, Peter, would send Jonah home. All Peter asked for was that they give Jonah a fair chance.
And then, at the very, very end of the call he told them that he needed two more days before returning to Saskatchewan – which would leave a week with him there before their departure for Paris.
“But where are you going?” asked Jason.
“To Rio, gentlemen. To Brazil. There is something I must do, and someone I must see, and something I have to figure out. I will see you shortly in three days time, and then we will fully prepare for Paris. Let’s go!
Chapter Thirty-Nine – Nina Struggles to Do What She Must
Nina had spent five long days working over the complex and interwoven array of computer programs, alone with her powerful workstations and artificially intelligent multi-implementation level software. She had designed a smart worm, which she was confident would do the fairly simple tasks she was programming it to do – and which were designed to accomplish exactly the opposite of what she had been working on for so long. When she was finished with that excruciating but liberating chore, she steeled herself to leave her safe and secluded penthouse university office, took the elevator down to the parking garage, and pulled out in her Jaguar onto the streets of Denver, Colorado.
A few minutes later she arrived at the local Russian Orthodox Church – where she had an appointment with a priest to say confession. Once inside the confessional, and with the ear of the priest, she started out by saying: “I truly and fully repent of all my sins, which are manifold and evil. I wish for my soul to be cleansed and washed by the saving grace of God.” The priest asked her what sins she was repenting of. And she proceeded to explain to the confused and sympathetic and not understanding priest that she had perhaps committed perhaps the greatest of all sins since that of Judas Iscariot… Maybe even greater…
Chapter Forty – Abu Arrives in Lourdes
It had been a long and tiresome journey, as he had traveled alone with several large pieces of luggage. First the ship from Valetta to Nice, then the two different trains from Nice to Toulouse, and then the remaining two and half hours of driving from Toulouse to Lourdes, in a fancy Volvo diesel which he had rented from a mechanic for cash, with a huge safety deposit, and which still barely had enough space in its trunk for the valuable baggage containing the modular pieces of the the backup illuminator.
He was coming now down from the mountains into Lourdes, and the traffic congestion was growing – as tens of thousands of worldwide pilgrims attempted to make their way toward the famous healing spring and grotto which the plain and ordinary Bernadette Soubirous had just a century ago revealed to the world…
He had managed to reserve a suite in one of the most famous and expensive hotels in Lourdes proper, using a pseudonym, and agreeing to pay in cash. It was just a short walk away from the cathedral and grotto.
As he sat in the kilometers long line of traffic wending its way toward the future, he wondered what they would find…
He was not Christian per se, yet as he inched along, he found himself saying some sort of rudimentary prayers for Bando and Dudani, as well as for their entire team… Deep down, he wondered whether what they were unveiling to the world would help it or not…
Chapter Forty – One – Jason Takes Control
Nina Zherabova was presumed dead. A deadly intense fire had broken out in her penthouse office, destroying and almost completely vaporizing the upper floor of the university math tower – a fire the police and firemen were now attributing to arson – or terrorism. The sprinklers had been turned off on the top floor – her office, and she was missing. As she rarely ever left her offices and suite, it was presumed she had been consumed in the flames as well. There was no trace of anything, given the intense heat of the fire.
The team was in shock from the news – and not just from that… Peter had mysteriously flown to Rio de Janeiro, without explanation, just at the last moment in their quest, his long lost adopted son Jonah had appeared at their door, to ‘help’ he had told them, Abu was on his way to the Christian pilgrimage site of Lourdes, and he, Jason, had started having bizarre and gruesome nightly nightmares about the dismemberment of his baby boy, who – annoyingly in his mind – was still alive and not destroyed, and who continued to reside in the womb of his girlfriend who was chasing after a ninja Catholic monk in San Marino. And there were now only a few precious and intense remaining days to go before the conference in Paris.
Jason tapped his pencil rapidly on the pad in front of him. The men were all still sleeping; it was 4am in the morning in the cabin. Peter had put him in charge, and he was trying to prioritize everything – to make a list – to restore order to their project – and even more – to restore order to his scientific mind. It cannot be, he told himself, it cannot be what they are all thinking. They are religious, he told himself, they have been told lies all their lives, and they have been brainwashed into thinking that way – even Peter. No, in fact, Peter was the worst of them all – pretending to believe religious crap about God AND pretending to be a scientist at the same time. Science had disproven God, had it not? Evolution, man as a totally random creation (no – not a creation, a happenchance combination of meaningless genes which happened to be good at survival), a ridiculous belief from a book that there is some sort of actual intrinsic morality, it all mitigated against belief in God. We are just random animals, he told himself. We want to eat, fuck, sleep and be comfortable. We are lucky we’re good at survival, and while we survive, we can do whatever we want! But still, deep down, he knew that most people who did not believe in God, did not really accept either that they were random genetic mishmashes, brought about by some chemical reactions that happened to have occurred, that there is no intrinsic purpose to life, that man is just a beast who does what he for whatever reason. Most humans live in some sort of shadowy grey world, not fully understanding the theory of evolution, and not fully embracing it either. And more they fully understand it, the less they actually embrace it. Why? Because they are intellectually weak… They do not like to accept what it actually portends. Thankfully, I am no so weak…
And now, he knew, he had to lead those with a vastly different worldview, while getting down to the science at hand. And there, yes there, he had to admit he was perturbed. He was absolutely 100% sure there was a reasonable explanation for what they were seeing that did not hypothesize, as Peter called it, ‘action and direction from above.’ There is nothing above! he exclaimed to himself. More than anything – he thought it outrageous that anyone, anything, anything at all – should tell him how to live his life. I am a goddam free agent; I will do whatever I want to do.
Still – the main thing at this crucial moment was to lead the team, who, but for their wild religious beliefs, were decent men and good scientists, and to get to Paris with everything ready to show the world. He did not understand what was going on – but whatever it was – it was huge scientifically – to find and identify and see highly sustained improbable occurrences in nature, in the world – in the universe…
Jason knew he had to wake the men up. It was time they get cracking. He would not let down Peter and he would not let down the team – but more than anything else, he would not let down himself.
Chapter Forty-Two – Tracking the Asian
Jenny had just filed her latest dispatch in the Illuminator Chronicles, in which she detailed the tragic fire which had taken Nina’s life. She had also chronicled the miracle in the hospital and the gruesome animal sacrifice grounds near the cabin. Literally millions around the world were now watching – with huge arguments and debates occurring involving scientists, those religious, those secular… On the on line comment section to her article in the Denver Post, over six thousand comments had been typed in within one hour – enough for her to know that she would now be famous – and enough for her to know that something deep and possibly disturbing was happening with regard to the Illuminator. As she read over the comments, she was stunned to realize how many people saw something religious and Godly going on. There were thousands who argued against that; but the religious saw something which they were adamant about – and as she read their comments, she realized that they made some sort of sense. “Enough!” she told herself. She did not want to fall into believing things which had no absolute proof… But then again – maybe now they would have proof. She admitted she was confused herself – and – after she had seen Marisako pray so deeply in the church – she had a deep desire to pray for her baby. I’m an agnostic, she thought. I’m very comfortable in that. I don’t want to be forced or intimidated on that question. But still, she heard her brain say to itself: Please let my son live… And then she heard it say: If You do, then I will believe. She took a sharp breath. Somehow, based on what-she-knew-not, she did not think that was they way God worked…
She looked out of the window of the TGV Train a Grande Vitesse as she careened toward Paris… She had already alerted the authorities there with regard to the Asian Devil Monk, as well as the authorities in the US. Both the President and Colonel Breckinworth had been informed.
Jenny thought to herself: There’s no way he’s going to stop us this time.