The Time Collector

by Gwendolyn Womack

  Things were, in this case, exactly how they looked.

  Holly and Parker were each holding a grocery bag. Holly had a startled expression on her face that she tried to mask, but Roan’s business partner was clearly taken aback. “Good morning,” she said, setting the bag down and facing the counter to unpack the food.

  Melicent looked around the kitchen wondering if there was someplace where the floor could swallow her up whole. She scooted around the island to cover up her bare legs. “I thought you two weren’t coming until ten.”

  “Obviously,” Holly said, which made Melicent blush brighter. Holly went to the drawer with the coffee makings, the one Melicent hadn’t tried yet, and she began to put on a pot with lightning-quick efficiency. It was clear she’d done it many times. “I’m supposed to show you two the lay of the land, how to come and go, though Roan left word that he’d prefer for you to stay put until he’s back.”

  What else did Roan say? Melicent was dying to know, but she had too much pride to ask. He hadn’t told Melicent where he was going or when he’d be back, and Melicent didn’t want to know if he’d divulged that information to Holly. It would cut too deep if he had and bring back that irrational insecurity she’d been wrestling with. She didn’t want to compare their relationships, and she hated herself for having these feelings. It was petty and small-minded and not like her at all.

  Melicent tried to sound nonchalant. “Yes, he told me.”

  “Why don’t you … get dressed and then we’ll go over everything,” Holly suggested with a hint of frost in her eyes.

  Melicent turned to Parker, who was still staring at her with a dumbfounded look. “Hey, Park, let me show you your room,” she said, and walked out of the kitchen with as much dignity as she could muster. Holly stayed behind with the coffeepot.

  When they reached Parker’s room upstairs, he scowled at her. “So you’re together now?”

  “Yes … no … I don’t know.” Melicent ran her hand through her hair. “Can we talk about this later?”

  He put his hands up in a truce. “I’m not gonna judge, though Holly didn’t seem too cool with it.”

  Melicent had noticed. Holly’s pursed lips and raised brows spoke volumes. Melicent had no idea where she stood with Roan’s business partner.

  Parker put his duffel down and crossed his arms. “So what did you find out in London?”

  Melicent noticed the lines of worry on her brother’s face. He looked older and tired, and her heart hurt for him. His life had fallen apart along with hers.

  “Stuart’s place had been broken into. But we got his laptop and research. We made a discovery.” Melicent didn’t know how to explain the oopart map. It’d be easier if she just showed it to Parker. She wondered if Roan had taken the laptop with him.

  “That’s it? A laptop?” Parker was looking at her, horrified. “So what now? We’re just stuck here in Roan’s Batcave while you wear his clothes?”

  Melicent put her hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh. Parker hadn’t meant it as a joke. He was clearly upset. “Look, I don’t know what the plan is yet. We need a little more time.”

  “For what? And where’s Roan?”

  Good question. She didn’t know that either but didn’t want to admit that she was floundering as much as he was. “Roan’s following up on a lead and he’ll be back soon and we’ll figure out our next step. Okay?” She put her hands on his shoulders, feeling the anxiety radiating from him. “The important thing is we’re safe and we’re together. We’ll get through this,” she promised, giving him a hug. He nodded and hugged her back.

  It was a start.

  She hurried to Roan’s bedroom to get her clothes, knowing Holly was waiting downstairs. She could shower later. She gave her hair a quick brush and debated applying a little lipstick from her travel bag and then rolled her eyes at herself. Holly might be all done up, but Melicent wasn’t going to actually attempt to look good for her.

  The smell of French roast was filling the house. Melicent looked around Roan’s room while she changed, taking it in for the first time. Roan didn’t have many personal effects out in the open. She wasn’t about to refuse his invitation to touch his things, but she also wouldn’t take advantage of the offer either. She’d find one object to read, just one. Like he’d read her snow globe, she would see what it could tell her about his life. Then she would put it away and find out the rest directly from him.

  * * *

  When she arrived back down to the kitchen, the awkwardness with Holly still hung in the air.

  “Coffee?” Holly offered her an already poured mug like a hostess.

  Melicent took it with a murmured thanks and added cream. “Thank you for taking Parker to the store and bringing him over.”

  Holly waved her hand with a polite smile. “It was no trouble. I’m afraid Parker did all the shopping. I wasn’t sure what you liked.”

  Melicent stifled a grimace. She bet Parker got all his usual instant and frozen food favorites.

  “Roan said to help yourself to anything in the pantry.” Holly opened up the double doors to show her the organized shelves. Melicent was beginning to feel like Holly was a flight attendant showing her the plane. “So!” Holly smiled brightly. “What do you do in Los Angeles?”

  Melicent’s eyebrows rose. Holly had said it casually, but Melicent couldn’t help but feel like this was the start of an interrogation. “I make snow globes,” she said, deadpan.

  “Pardon me?” Holly’s eyes widened and she leaned forward in confusion.

  “I said I make snow globes.” Melicent was purposely trying to ruffle Ms. Perfect’s feathers.

  “The kind that you shake?” Holly tried to clarify.

  Melicent nodded slowly and tried hard not to laugh. “Mmm-hmm.” She was sure Holly didn’t know what to think of her now.

  “How fascinating. I’ve never met a snow globe maker.”

  “Roan bought a few. Maybe he’ll show you them.” Melicent was quickly running out of things to say. She sipped her coffee, savoring the rich overtones.

  Holly sipped hers too. “Listen,” Holly finally said, clearly getting to the point. “Roan is like a brother to me. We’ve known each other forever. I know the situation here is unorthodox with what is happening with you and Stuart and all … but no matter what the outcome of all this is”—she waved a graceful hand across the kitchen—“just please don’t hurt him. Roan is very special.”

  Melicent could see the absolute sincerity in Holly’s eyes, and for a moment she got a peek behind Holly’s careful veneer. Melicent met her gaze head-on, not shying away, and allowed her to see the same sincerity. “That is the last thing I would ever do. You have my word.”

  30. THE RING

  ROAN USED HIS TIME on the plane trip to Bengaluru to study the oopart map in closer detail. Before he left New Orleans he’d transferred the file to his own laptop and left Stuart’s computer behind in his office at the warehouse. During the flight he had an uninterrupted block of time to analyze it.

  Was the map a message? A sign? That humanity was not alone in the universe? Or was it simply nature’s signature, left behind by the ooparts’ movements across time, like the intricate pattern of a snowflake? Roan understood how nature found cohesion through geometry. Geometry could be seen in everything from the spiral of a seashell, a tornado, or a hurricane, the fractals of a leaf, a beehive, the mandala of a spider’s web, down to the perfect symmetry within a crystal under a microscope.

  Were the ooparts’ beautiful geometry simply a natural pattern?

  Roan studied the map again. It couldn’t be coincidence that the map’s grid lines aligned with ancient sites. He could easily pick them out: Stonehenge, Avebury, Giza, Easter Island, Angkor Wat, Machu Picchu—Gobekli Tepe. They all landed on the map’s geometric lines, connecting each other.

  By the time Roan’s flight landed in Bengaluru, he was no closer to finding answers, and when he got off the plane, he felt farther away from home, Melicent, a
nd his life in New Orleans than ever.

  Melicent had left him countless voicemails and he had not listened to any of them. There was nothing he could do right now to change his course of action. Ever since he’d unlocked the map, his whole life had come into sharp focus. He felt in his bones that he could unravel the mystery of the ooparts. He needed to understand what the map meant almost as much as he needed to find Stuart and keep Melicent safe. Hopefully coming to Gyan’s would shed more light on the situation.

  Roan had traveled to India a few times before, and it had always been to Delhi, where he would take a sleeper train to the ancient city of Jodhpur in northwest India, his favorite place to go searching for relics. Jodhpur was a hub, with antiques arriving from the ancient port of Kochi and the World Heritage site of Jaisalmer, a city where Roan had found not only Indian treasures, but Chinese, Arab, and European as well.

  Arriving in Bengaluru, however, was a different experience altogether. Bengaluru was a city stretching its arms to the future. The cosmopolitan center was the IT portal of India, the country’s Silicon Valley.

  Gyan worked for the Ministry of Culture and the Archaeological Survey of India, which focused on the conservation and preservation of monuments around the country. He helped oversee the Bengaluru office. It had been an hour-long taxi ride from the airport for Roan to get to his house. Gyan and his family lived in a villa in Palm Meadows, one of Bengaluru’s most popular residences, where the entire grounds looked more like a resort getaway.

  Sun had been trying to reach Gyan and arrange a meeting between him and Roan, only to be informed by Gyan’s wife, Aadira, that Gyan hadn’t been home for three days. She’d been away in Mumbai with her parents, helping her sister prepare for her wedding. Gyan had called her saying that he had found Stuart and promised to call her the next day. But he never did and he never came home.

  They had a three-year-old daughter.

  Roan didn’t know what to expect when he arrived at Gyan’s. Aadira answered the door. The young woman’s eyes were swollen from crying and she was beside herself with worry. Gyan was still missing. She was desperate for answers and willing to help Sun and Roan in any way. Sun had returned to New York to deal with the fire after making sure the young psychometrist in Korea was hidden and safe. She’d been reaching out to all of the contacts in their network to see who else, if anyone, Stuart and Miguel had involved in their research. So far she had not found a lead.

  Aadira showed Roan around the house. The three-bedroom luxury condominium had marble floors in every room, a black granite kitchen, and ornamental teakwood doors and matching window frames.

  “Here is Gyan’s home office.” She flipped on the lights.

  When Roan walked in, he stopped in shock. Descartes’s ring was sitting on the desk. Why had Gyan left the oopart out in the open?

  Roan needed to touch it, but first he wanted to inspect Gyan’s other things. He knew that handling the ring would make his hands numb. “Where did your husband get this?”

  Aadira hovered in the doorway. “Stuart sent it to him for safekeeping,” she said, confirming what Roan already knew. “The ring was sitting on his desk when I returned yesterday.”

  After touching several of Gyan’s personal effects—particularly by holding his pen and his phone—Roan could confirm that Gyan had been truly worried for Stuart and Miguel and that he had done neither of them harm. Gyan had been passionate about the oopart research and was trying to find out what had happened to François, Miguel, and Stuart. That was where the trail ended.

  Aadira put her hand over her mouth and gripped her stomach. “Something has happened to him, too. I know it. He would never…” She couldn’t go on.

  Roan didn’t know how to comfort the poor woman, and it was obvious she knew nothing except that her husband was missing.

  “Whatever you and Sun can do to help find him,” she whispered. “Please excuse me.” She left the room to be alone in her grief, giving Roan the respite he needed to examine Descartes’s ring.

  Roan formed his hands into a Surabhi mudra, one of the most powerful mudras in his arsenal. The mudra helped to cut through any barrier that stood between a person and their desires. Right now he desperately needed to understand the ooparts’ riddle and find Miguel, Stuart, and Gyan. He held the intention in his mind.

  Then he took a deep breath, like a diver preparing to go deep in the ocean for a long time without air, and he picked the ring up.

  LEIDEN, HOLLAND

  1633

  THE BOOK OF THE WORLD didn’t feel so inviting today. Descartes wished he’d stayed at home.

  He had ventured out into town to hear the gossip at the tavern and gather what news he could of Galileo. Word had reached Leiden that the scientist had been summoned to Rome for trial. The iron arm of the Inquisition had been making threats for some time now and had finally followed through.

  Shock continued to ripple through Europe as the tribunals of the Roman Inquisition made an example of Galileo, a warning to all who thought to push the boundaries of accepted science. Even the French Parliament had passed a decree forbidding anyone to criticize the works of Aristotle. The punishment was death. Heretics continued to be burned along with women who were declared witches. Descartes had escaped to the Netherlands in search of greater tolerance and to avoid prying eyes as he worked. For he believed the old adage: Bene vixit, bene qui latuit, he lives well who is well hidden.

  Descartes’s deep-seated fear stemmed not only from the fact that he had come to the same conclusions as Galileo, that the Earth did indeed revolve around the sun, but from what else he’d found. In his quest to marry algebra and geometry, he had made several startling discoveries about gravity, trajectories, the rotation of the Earth, and the movement of the solar system around the sun.

  For the past four years, Descartes had been compiling his research into a book that, when published, would expand the realms of physics and metaphysics in exciting new ways. He had chosen to write the work in French and not Latin so that everyone could read it, including women. He was planning to title the book The World, but now, with Galileo’s trial, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to publish it.

  Descartes refused to follow in Galileo’s footsteps. The Frenchman had his freedom, his daydreams, and no financial worries thanks to his family’s wealth. Galileo was Italian, a staunch Catholic, and in the good graces of the Pope. Still the poor man was being convicted and fined, and every copy of his book Dialogue of Galileo Galilei was being burned in Rome. Descartes shuddered to think what his own fate might be. Nothing was as dangerous as men who were robbed of their reputations that had been built on false ideas. And the view that the Earth was the center of the universe was false.

  But Descartes had also learned early on that he could not change the world, only himself. Now he had to make a vital decision: what to share of his work and what to keep secret.

  He kept waiting for word that Galileo would be pardoned, so that he too could move forward and publish. But when Galileo’s yearlong trial in Rome ended with the Italian being sentenced to house arrest for the rest of his life and his work being censored, Descartes had his answer. His research could never be shared.

  For a week Descartes debated whether to burn every word. Each night he would sit by the fire with his wine, the pages of The World a hand’s throw from the embers. He would stare at the flames, their curling fingers beckoning him. He had found the equation for understanding everything that the world was built upon. He had found the mathematical unity between the Platonic solids, the geometric building blocks of life.

  Could he destroy such a miracle?

  He could not.

  So instead he made a secret copy, rewriting his words in a code no one could understand. Then he burned the originals containing his precious theorems.

  From that day forward he would be more careful. He would become a nomad, a stranger, traveling from village to village. He would never stay in one place for long. Indeed, he would become
the hermit philosopher at the winding staircase, an image his good friend Rembrandt had painted. He and the artist had often spoken of the struggles to capture the unattainable in their work, Rembrandt in the two-dimensional plane, Descartes in the third. Descartes would bury his secret and limit the discoveries he shared to findings that fit within accepted mathematical boundaries. He would keep his secrets and cherish his freedom.

  The world wasn’t ready for a mathematical proof so pure it could only be divine law. For even though his discovery was not mysticism or magic or alchemy, it offered an understanding of creation, an understanding that Descartes believed lived deep inside the hearts of all men.

  31. THE CAVE

  ROAN PUT DOWN THE RING and tucked his hands into a Kashyapa mudra, forcing himself back to the present, only to find his fingers were numb as he’d expected. He closed his eyes, feeling dizzy. He’d just been thrown out of seventeenth-century Leiden and he was jetlagged to boot. It was a heady combination. But he’d seen Descartes’s unpublished work, The World, and he now understood how Descartes’s discovery of geometric unity held the key.

  The point of unity on the oopart map was the center, the single point where all the geometric symbols converged. That was the answer to the map: the center.

  Goose bumps flowed over him as he realized what that meant. “Oh my God. It’s a labyrinth,” he said aloud to himself, and opened up the map. They were meant to walk the path outlined on the oopart map to its center.

  He enlarged the image to see where the center point of the ooparts’ design landed.

  Naica, Mexico.

  He took out his phone and dialed Sun, who was waiting for his call. Exhilaration coursed through him.

  She answered on the first ring. “Is there any word from Gyan?” she said.