The Soul of the Matter (31 page)

Chapter 61

D
AY 14

T
HURSDAY, 1 A.M.

T
hanks to the police chief's influence, Dan and Trish were set up on the fourth floor of a desirable hotel near the center of the city, even though a large number of conventions were taking up almost all of the decent rooms in the area. For security reasons, they were staying in one room.

On the lower ten of the hotel's thirty floors, a rim of exterior facing rooms were bordered on the inside by hallways that were open, above waist-high railings, to an interior courtyard, providing a vertigo-inducing view of the lobby below. Two glass-enclosed elevators, busily ferrying tired guests up and down, were on the front-entrance corners of the building.

At Evans's request, a policeman in the lobby kept watch on Dan and Trish's room via security cameras and a line of sight to their door. Another was stationed nearby, out of sight.

Wary, Dan had taken his own precautions. Propped up on a table near the door, his cell phone camera was pointed at the door handle. An app that he had written used video from the camera to act as a motion detector. If the handle moved, the phone would beep. If the door opened even a sliver, the phone would blare out a high-pitched squeal. He had installed the same app on Trish's phone and aimed it at the window.

Keeping sentinel, Dan sat in a cushioned chair across from the door. The room was dark, save for the light that sliced out from the crack of the barely open bathroom door.

A few feet away, Trish lay on top of the quilted cover of the queen-sized bed, a row of pillows down the middle of it separating each side. Though she wasn't concerned, he wanted her to feel as comfortable as possible and had arranged the pillows.

In their short time together, he had grown to sense something special about her that he wanted to protect, that his first reaction to her looking at him had been real, but not about her. Somehow she had the ability to see into people, and what he had experienced with her was the reflection of the way he had been, as odd as this could be. It was one of the many bewildering things now filling his life that he had to find answers to.

After what happened to Sam, he wanted answers more than ever. Dan wanted to find out if there really was anything more to life than momentary existence; if there was a plan and purpose; if somehow each person's suffering was made right. First Stephen's and now Sam's death seemed to yell out a resounding
no
.

Even though it seemed like he was at a dead end, he would keep pushing on. Although his belief that his efforts would prove worthwhile was only an act of hope, not faith, the alternative was surrender. And whatever Stephen and Sam had known, it had proven strong enough to give them the will to persevere, to not surrender.

Dan wanted the strength to do the same.

•  •  •

Lying on her side of the bed, fully clothed, Trish glanced at Dan, motionless in the chair. Although he was in the shadows, she could see him clearly.

Trish was still shaken by what had happened to Sam. She was used to suffering and death in the course of her work. What sustained her through that, even gave her joy in her work, was the love she felt for her patients as she helped them through their treatments—and too often through to death. In the end, it wasn't death itself that bothered her, but how people treated each other while they lived. While suffering mattered, how people loved and lived mattered more and its pursuit was worth enduring hardship.

This made what happened to Sam all the more distressing to her, leading her to question her views on the nature of humanity.

How could people be so evil? How could they do that to Sam? What possible concept of good could they have had to justify it? If evil was an objective reality—and this was a new thought to her—then what else was, and what did that mean? What was the source of her love and joy?

She wanted to know what was so powerful that it motivated Sam and gave him the strength to endure what he had. Despite the intense pain he had experienced, he'd looked serene and comfortable in his last moments. How could that be?

She looked over at Dan, motionless except to periodically raise his beer to his mouth. She saw someone of both great strength and great weakness. He seemed to doubt almost everything, including his own purpose. That was good, for him. Awareness of ignorance could lead to wisdom. She also needed to find a way to be wiser herself. The things that were happening were out of any frame of reference she had known.

As she watched Dan sit there with his head in his hands, she heard a small sigh. After he finished his beer, he reached for a third one on the table next to him. Before he opened it, Trish got up and went over to him.

She kneeled to the side of the chair, put her right hand on Dan's left forearm, looked into his eyes, and said, “You have to lie down. Today was rough. There is no guarantee tomorrow won't be worse.”

“I can rest here.”

“You need to be strong and ready to face whatever comes next. While I was studying to become a doctor, I learned that you have to get rest whenever you can. You won't get that in this chair or with another beer.”

“I'll be fine. Go back to bed.”

“I will when you do,” Trish said.

“You turning this into a contest of wills?”

“No, just good judgment. But if you won't rest, I won't, either,” Trish said, getting up to sit on the end of the bed.

Dan didn't answer.

“What did Sam mean when he said something was encoded in DNA?” Trish asked. “I thought we'd discuss that with Sam. Now that he's dead, I think you should tell me.”

•  •  •

With the risk they now shared, and the trust they were developing, Dan felt he owed Trish more explanations. He had gone over the room when they first arrived, but Dan was still cautious about listening devices, so he stood up, turned on the radio, sat next to Trish on the edge of the bed, and whispered into her ear.

“Stephen told me he had discovered remarkable things encoded within DNA, more than just matter-based genetics, that after he had conducted a big experiment he would show me proof of our origins, souls, and destinies. Despite my disbelief, I was searching for something to grab onto in life, so I agreed to set up a secure computer network for Stephen and his team to do their work and store their data. In exchange, he would tell me everything. I used encryption tools from my old work. He died before he could provide me what he had promised. Without the passcodes he used to encrypt his files, I can't access them. Something at the fusion center must have been part of the experiment he talked about. I need to find out what Stephen had discovered. I'm searching for a lot more than just a treatment for Ava,” Dan said.

A look of wonder crossed Trish's face. “That's incredible. And Sam was going to tell you about Stephen's work and, with your help, obtain the passcodes?” she asked.

“That's right. Now that he's dead, I don't know where to look for them,” Dan said.

“What type of things did Stephen say he found?”

“He only told me general stuff about genetics, human origin, and something about a relationship to physics.”

“Sam said something about there being ‘another,' like maybe someone else knows what he did,” Trish said.

“I don't know what to make of that. I guess I'll have to look
through Stephen's journals again. Maybe you can look, too, see if you can find something I haven't,” Dan said.

“I'd like to do that. But first, we need to get some rest,” Trish said.

Discouraged by the day, uncertain of what was coming next, he knew he needed all his resolve to face it. He wasn't going to use any of it to fight her further.

Dan stood up slowly and walked over to his side of the bed. He waited for Trish to settle herself, and then he lay down on his side.

Moments later, Dan said somberly, “I found Stephen's body, minutes too late.”

Trish turned toward Dan, no pillows between their faces, sadness in hers, placed her hand on his shoulder, and said, “That must have been terrible,” with an empathy that made Dan feel like she was completely embracing him.

“When I heard about the explosion at the fusion center, something told me that it might be related to Stephen's experiment. I immediately started searching for him. I got to his MIT biology building just as he was being driven away in the back of a truck. I tracked him to the site where he had been taken and saw people fleeing. Then I found his body. He had scrawled a small symbol in the dirt that I haven't been able to figure out. Maybe he died before finishing it. It's the one I've shown. I haven't told anyone any of this, not even Nancy, because I promised Stephen I would protect his work and his family. Afterward, I found a message he had left on his cell phone for me saying to look to be contacted by Galileo if anything should happen to him. There must be something to the choice of the name Galileo I need to figure out. I can't let Stephen down a second time—I have to find the medicine Ava needs. And there are still things I need to find out for myself.”

“It's good you're telling me this. It must have been so hard to keep this inside you, unable to share it with anyone. As awful as you feel, you have to accept that none of it was your fault,” Trish said softly.

“If I had been a better person, I would have been there for Stephen and been able to prevent all of this. I have a lot to make up for.”

“You can't know that. Things are connected in ways none of us can understand. What you're going through now may be necessary for something more important later.”

“Maybe, but it feels like everything I ever thought or did, all the choices I need to still make, are converging. I can't make sense of it. I'm really lost.”

“No, you're not. Like everyone else, you're on a crooked path to a straight destination. But you're developing a good compass. You'll find your way. We can start again tomorrow.”

“I wish I had your optimism, your confidence. But thank you for everything,” Dan said, again embarrassed by all that he had said, but thinking it was the right thing to do. One more paradox to be understood.

“Go to sleep,” Trish replied as she passed her hand gently across his face and then rolled onto her side, facing away from him.

He was still not ready to think of God as more than an intellectual possibility, but he silently asked for peace. A warm blanket seemed to descend on him. Whatever energy he had left drained from him, taking all his anxiety and fear with it as well. Before he drifted off, he thought of Trish. He imagined the scent of her hair, the touch of her hand, the softness of her soul. How far he had fallen that he had to resort to longing after another to keep him afloat. Without words, encouraged by the peaceful feeling, he issued an entreaty to whatever might be out there, yearning for something that could, and would, answer. He imagined a life with joy and meaning, with someone like Trish. But it had to be real. The illusions of his past had failed him for too long.

•  •  •

Dan woke in the middle of the night. He had moved into an awkward position. Trish had also shifted. While she was still on her side of the bed, the pillows were no longer between them. Long strands of her hair rested on Dan's face, and the fingers of her hand touched his forearm. Although he was physically uncomfortable in the position he was in, her touch was soothing, and he wasn't going to move. He
made the decision to become more than he had ever been; to become someone that Trish would want him to be.

How strangely things had turned out. After living a life dedicated to self-satisfaction, where fun had passed for happiness, he now thought fulfillment might come through what he could do for others. The thought did not displease him.

PART 4

Chapter 62

9:30 A.M.

T
he announcement blared through the cabin, waking Dan. They were above ten thousand feet, climbing to cruising altitude.

Conditioned by years of flying early in the morning, Dan had fallen asleep as the plane, wheels rumbling rhythmically, engines racing, had started down the runway.

He and Trish were on their way back to Boston, where a difficult encounter with Evans no doubt awaited him. Ignoring government directives and needing to be extricated from a murder investigation would have consequences. There was even the possibility that Evans had found a link between Dan, Stephen, and Viktor, and that would be a real problem.

But Dan would have to wait to find out. With more than four hours to go on the flight, Dan retrieved his laptop computer while Trish gazed out the window at the nearby, snow-covered peak of Mount Rainier. They were in the last row of first class, with a bulkhead behind them, and, two rows further back in coach, a US Marshal, there to ensure their safe arrival.

Opening his computer, Dan placed his thumb on the biometric reader and then entered a series of complex passcodes. A scanned copy of Stephen's journals appeared on the computer's screen. He tapped Trish to get her attention, then placed the computer on her lap. Whispering, he said, “Place your thumb over the reader,” while pointing to the thin slit at the lower right of the keypad. “Every three minutes, a prompt will appear on the screen instructing you to rever
ify your thumbprint. If you don't do that within twenty seconds, the computer will lock you out. If you try to connect to a Wi-Fi network, or insert any reader devices, the computer will also lock you out. I hope you find something.”

“So do I,” Trish said with a reserved expression, and then turned her attention to the images on the screen, scanning the words and paging through rapidly.

From his angle, Dan couldn't see what she was looking at. The computer's polarized screen guard prevented viewing from any angle but a direct one. He hoped he hadn't made a mistake by trusting her so completely, so quickly, knowing so little about her. He still didn't know why she seemed to be close to Stephen's work yet claimed to know so little about it.

While Trish worked her way through the documents, Dan looked around the cabin, thinking about what had happened. The knowledge of what Sam had endured hung over him.

The precautions Dan had taken when they left San Diego should have been enough to keep his and Trish's movements secret. Yet they had been found, and setting up Sam's death as a clumsy attempt to frame them had been meant as a warning. Had they led the killers to Sam, or was it the other way around? Was Sergei involved? What did the killers know, and what would they do next? They could have waited in the room and subjected Dan and Trish to the same treatment as Sam, but they had not. That probably meant that Sam had been the only target. With Sam gone, it might not be long before the killers turned their attention on Dan and perhaps Trish as well. He wouldn't let her face that risk. He'd go on alone, while making sure that Trish was well protected. He'd already had more than enough people dying around him, and he was convinced that she had something special of her own to do.

Beyond protecting her, he also wanted to avoid emotional complications. The evening before, he had said too much, indulged his emotions and exposed weakness, felt more intimacy than could be there, and longed for someone else to help make him feel whole. In the morning, embarrassed by his behavior, he had adopted a stoic approach and stronger demeanor. He'd have to make himself into what
ever he needed to be before ever considering something real with her.

Trish, too, had been different since the moment they had woken up, reserved and distant, leaving Dan feeling that she also regretted the closeness of the evening before and wanted to restore emotional distance between them.

But this was extraneous now that he had gathered himself together and refocused his attention on what needed to be done. The remaining hours of the flight would be dedicated to figuring that out. Top of the list was determining what Sam had meant by “
another
.”

•  •  •

Four hours and twenty-five hundred miles of silence later, they were below ten thousand feet, and Dan was stowing his computer. Twenty minutes to go until Logan.

Fighting the awkwardness he still felt, Dan asked Trish, “What do you think?”

“He surely believed everything you've said, and it had a profound effect on him,” Trish said, her face showing no emotion. “And I have no idea what the symbol he drew means.”

Disappointed but not surprised by the little she had found, Dan replied, “Even though I had been through the pages many times, I was still hoping you'd find something that I'd missed.”

“His references to imaginary numbers were interesting,” Trish said with what Dan thought was the appearance of a slight twinkle in her eyes.

“Where was that? All I saw were names of a few mathematicians that I couldn't make anything out of.” How had Trish made a connection to imaginary numbers? He knew that imaginary numbers, now integral to mathematics, physics, and engineering, led to analyses that made possible all sorts of technologies and structures. As real as the results were, imaginary numbers themselves didn't exist. They were the square root of a negative number. Square roots were numbers that when multiplied by themselves yielded their squares. The problem with finding square roots of negative numbers is that a number times itself, whether positive or negative to begin with, always yields a positive number. The square
of positive or negative 2 was 4. The square root of 4 was either 2 or negative 2. In reality, a negative square, and hence its square root, shouldn't exist. That was why square roots of negative numbers were called imaginary. You could never represent them with a physical quantity.

With her first full smile of the day, Trish said, “You did notice the small sketch of a bird with the squiggly
i
embedded in it on page eighty one?”

“The bird, but not the
i
. And what of the names? I researched the mathematicians in the journal—Descartes, Leibniz, Euler—but didn't find a connection.” Dan answered.

“It probably would have helped if you'd seen the
i
and recognized the bird. It's a heron. And of course
i
is the symbol for the square root of negative one, and that should have tipped you off. While you were dozing—and by the way I had to elbow you a few times to stop your snoring—I used the internet connection on this screen since I couldn't use your laptop for that” —Trish pointed to the pop-up monitor on her seat's left armrest— “to research them. It turns out Heron of Alexandria was the first to make note of imaginary numbers in fifty AD, but didn't know what to do with them. They were considered an absurdity. This persisted through three Italian mathematicians, past Leibniz, until Euler first made the first real use of them. It was all easy to research and obvious once I found the initial connection. What do you think all this signifies?”

“I think that you figured a lot more out than I did,” Dan replied, trying to determine what this new information meant.

“It's funny. So many brilliant minds were offended by the idea of square roots of negative numbers and thought they had no use, yet without them, quantum mechanics and a lot of modern technology would not exist. The products couldn't be designed without the math,” Trish said.

“Well, whether it turns out to be useful or not for us, I'm
really
impressed,” Dan said.

“Thank you. I like solving puzzles.” Trish made a point to look at Dan as she said it. “And there is one more thing you'll find interesting. Leibniz said imaginary numbers are ‘an elegant and wonderful
resource of the divine intellect, an unnatural birth in the realm of thought, almost an amphibium between being and non-being.' ”

Dan thought the words sounded like they could relate to evolution, though he didn't think Leibniz could have had that in mind. But what was Stephen thinking when he had made his notes? Was he linking imaginary numbers and human origin? Were they involved in the algorithms that were being used for genetic expression? That would mean all creatures were the result of deliberate thought, and therefore a designer.

“I was right to have you look at the journals,” Dan said, refraining from adding that he was mad at himself for not seeing what she had.

“There's more,” Trish said. “The heron and
i
were on page eighty-one. The square root Heron was trying to find was the result of eighty-one minus one hundred forty-four. Turning to that page, I saw a negative sign in front of the page number. The result is negative sixty-three. If you look carefully at the journal's page numbers, you'll see the page numbers skip from sixty-two to sixty-four. No sixty-three, as though its absence is a negative. Seems like a clue,” Trish said.

Dan couldn't believe it. “I thought it was just a mistake. I'm going to have to take a closer look when we're back on the ground. Does it mean anything?”

“Only that maybe there was something that belonged there and its absence is a clue of its importance. Maybe it's a clue about the passcodes.”

“When I first noticed that sixty-three was missing, I noticed that sixty-two seemed to have no connection to sixty-four, and I thought it was just a page-numbering error,” Dan said. “Maybe some things on sixty-two and sixty-four are clues to what would have been on sixty-three. Did you look closely at those pages?”

“I tried. Sixty-two seemed odd. Whereas most of the journal was about Stephen's scientific work, a lot of this page was about his dad. Sixty-four had a lot of equations, with K as the main variable. One had a large arrow pointing away from K with a ribbon just to the right of that.”

“Anything else?” Dan asked.

“Not in the journals. But I did find another interesting quote that I stumbled on while looking at Leibnitz's quote. It's from John Maynard Keynes, speaking of Isaac Newton: ‘He regarded the universe as a cryptogram set by the Almighty . . . By pure thought, by concentration of mind, the riddle, he believed, would be revealed to the initiate.' Maybe Stephen thought so too and had set out to unravel it.”

Dan could see that she was reveling in revealing the information bit by bit. “You have a knack for the remarkable today. And I like how you're enjoying being mysterious.”

With a mischevious smile, Trish said, “So you think I'm mysterious? Why's that?”

“Sometimes you look at people in a way that is different from anything else I've ever seen, in a way that seems to almost physically affect them. There is a depth and magnetism that seems to lurk beyond your eyes, hinting at powers yet to be discovered. When you touch people, it seems to change them for a moment. People say things to you that they might not to others, as though you have a power to make them do that,” Dan said, once again realizing, too late, that he had said more than he should. He was embarrassed by how his increased awareness of himself, a truthful interaction with reality, was being manifested in honesty that was unmanly, though no longer weak. In a sense, he was becoming stronger by being more aware, more in the world, and relating more directly with people, though he had to learn how to manage this new strength.

After a moment of almost solemn quiet, Trish asked, “You make me seem like a sorceress. That's not very nice.”

“That's not at all what I meant. It's hard to explain,” Dan said, trying to find a way to dig himself out without denying what he had said. “You just have a remarkable way of connecting with people that really comforts them, helps them through difficulties. It's amazing, really.”

“Well, that sounds better,” Trish said without a lot of conviction. It was as though she was aware of the truth of what he said but was bothered by it.

Dan decided to switch to small talk. “What do you do for fun when you're not working?”

In a flat and distant voice, she said, “I like hiking in the Catskills, where I vacationed as a kid, reading books, traveling, the usual stuff.”

He worked up the nerve to broach the topic that had been on his mind since the prior night. “It must be hard to have a social life with medical school, residency, and now your position at the hospital.”

“I have a full life. But if by that you mean am I romantically involved with anyone, I've had a boyfriend for a year and a half. We don't see each other as much as we'd like, but we try. What about you? I'm sure you have a busy social calendar,” Trish said.

He shouldn't have been surprised that she had someone, but he was still taken aback. Dan tried to focus on his answer. “A pretty wonderful lady lived with me for two years. I don't know why, but it didn't work for me in the end. I kept telling myself she deserved better when I really meant that I didn't want to be responsible for someone else's happiness. Before I get involved with anyone else, I have to sort through a lot of things. I can't look to anyone else to make me who I need to be.”

“That's more insight than most people have and a good plan. You should follow it.”

Neither of them said anything for a few minutes. It seemed neither was in the mood for small talk. Dan decided her answer was an indication to keep his distance. He changed the topic again and said, “Going back to imaginary numbers, what I remember most about Descartes is his assertion of ‘I think, therefore I am.' What do you think the connection is to Stephen, his work, and imaginary numbers?”

“I think the connection between imaginary numbers and Stephen's work is probably real,” Trish replied, giving no indication she had intended a pun.

Dan was thinking the same thing. And he also thought that it was time to pay a visit to Kevin Collins. Stephen always referred to his dad as his Father. Maybe that is what page 62 meant. And the Ks on page 64 could represent a Kevin who became Father Michael. Priests wear collars that look like ribbons. Maybe pages 62 and 64 did flow together and the missing 63 pointed to Kevin Collins. Maybe the
i
in the symbol Stephen had drawn pointed to Father Michael. If so, what did the rest of the symbol mean?