Charlie Thorne and the Last Equation

by Stuart Gibbs

  “Each element has a different number of protons,” Charlie continued. “That’s where we get its atomic number. And each element has an international symbol, which is the same, no matter what language you speak.”

  Charlie laid Einstein’s cipher beside the periodic table. “So the first number, ninety-one, is the atomic number for protactinium, atomic symbol ‘Pa.’ Sixty stands for neodymium, or ‘Nd.’ Then you’ve got oxygen and radium. . . .”

  “Pandora,” Dante said.

  “Exactly.” Charlie handed her brother the pen so he could decipher the rest. “Ignore the actual letters in the formula. I’ll explain those in a moment.”

  Dante quickly went to work, converting Einstein’s message with the help of the table. Milana hovered by his shoulder, watching. Charlie noticed that the two of them were standing much closer together than they had at the start of the day.

  In just over a minute, Dante had translated:

  Pa/Nd/O/Ra Li/Es  In  H/U/B/B/Al/S S/P/He/Re

  Be/Ne/At/H Ne/Pt/U/Ne/S O/P/Ti/Cs

  Dante turned to Charlie, excited by the discovery but confused by the message. “ ‘Hubbal’s sphere?’ I assume he’s referring to Edwin Hubble . . . ?”

  “Yes. The misspelling is unavoidable, I think. The cipher is pretty limited by the letter combinations in the periodic table.”

  Milana asked, “Hubble was the astronomer who determined the size of the universe, right?”

  “Correct again.”

  “Well, then, wouldn’t ‘Hubble’s sphere’ be the entire universe?” Dante asked. “That’s a pretty big place to hide something.”

  “True,” Charlie admitted. “But that’s a metaphoric translation. I think Einstein was being a bit more literal, meaning ‘sphere’ as in ‘the place in which someone has influence.’ Like your sphere would be the CIA.”

  Milana asked, “So you think Einstein left Pandora where Hubble worked?”

  “I can almost guarantee it,” Charlie answered. “Because Einstein left another clue. Remember, the letters in the formula are simply Roman numerals, which, taken together, give us the year 1931.”

  Dante looked at the clue to confirm this, then back at Charlie. “What happened in 1931?”

  “First, you have to understand that Einstein was a big fan of Hubble. He thought Hubble’s discoveries were as amazing on the cosmic scale as his were on the atomic. At the beginning of the twenty-first century, everyone—even Einstein himself—believed that our galaxy was the only one in the universe. That our galaxy was the universe. And then Hubble comes along and discovers that was totally wrong. In fact, Hubble found dozens of other galaxies, each with billions of stars. Suddenly, the universe was an infinitely larger place than everyone had thought. That blew a lot of people’s minds.”

  Charlie took a bite of her sandwich, then continued. “But Hubble wasn’t satisfied with just that. He noticed that all these galaxies he’d found were significantly different from one another. There were spirals and ovals and pinwheels and clouds. So Hubble began to catalog all of them, documenting all the variations . . . and in doing this, he noticed something really surprising: All the galaxies were moving away from one another. And they were doing it at a rate constant to the distance between them.”

  “Hubble discovered the universe was expanding,” Milana said.

  “Exactly!” Charlie agreed. “This blew everyone away again—except for Einstein, who was thrilled by Hubble’s discovery. Because back in 1917, when Einstein had produced his general theory of relativity, he had developed a model of space based on it that said space was curved by gravity—and therefore it ought to be able to expand or contract. But even Einstein thought this sounded crazy. After all, the current wisdom at the time said the universe was static. So Einstein assumed he had made a mistake. Then Hubble comes along and proves Einstein was right all along. General relativity makes sense. Einstein is vindicated. He was so psyched, he took a trip to meet Hubble and thank him personally . . . in January of 1931.”

  Dante and Milana shared a look of excitement. “Where was that?” Milana asked.

  “The Mount Wilson Observatory,” Charlie answered. “In the San Gabriel Mountains.”

  Dante’s eyes widened in surprise. “That’s right by Los Angeles. You think Pandora’s there?”

  “Absolutely,” Charlie said. “It makes perfect sense. Back in 1931, Los Angeles wasn’t much of a city yet. It was just a little podunk town where they made movies. That’s why the observatory was built there; it was on the edge of civilization. There was hardly any light pollution. No one ever expected that the city would grow to be the second largest in the country.”

  Milana asked, “So you think Einstein’s trip to visit Hubble was just a cover for his looking for a place to hide Pandora?”

  “That’s my bet.” Charlie wolfed down the last of her sandwich. “Nazi Germany was on the rise in 1931 and Einstein was worried about it; only two years later, he moved to America to escape it for good. If he wanted to hide Pandora as far from the Nazis as possible, Mount Wilson was a good place. At the same time, it was a research facility, meaning it would remain under government care, which was an added bonus. An awful lot of treasure in the world has been lost because people buried it out in the wilderness. The wilderness changes. Rivers alter course. Mountains collapse. Fields erode. But a government facility is forever.”

  Dante considered that carefully, then nodded. “I guess that makes sense.”

  “But that only takes care of ‘Hubble’s sphere,’ ” Milana said. “What does ‘Neptune’s optics’ mean?”

  Charlie said, “Hubble’s telescope, I assume. Telescope lenses are optics, and in 1931, the biggest telescope in the world was the Hooker at Mount Wilson. Its lens was a hundred inches across—and the bigger the lens, the farther you can see into space. A lot of scientists consider the Hooker the most important scientific instrument of the twentieth century, given all the discoveries that were made with it. It allowed scientists to see all sorts of cosmic objects for the first time: comets, asteroids, nebulas . . . and even Neptune and Uranus.”

  “No one had ever seen those planets until then?” Milana asked, surprised.

  “Nope,” Charlie replied. “Neptune’s existence was mathematically determined in 1845, but it was so far away no one ever got a decent look at it until the Hooker was built. Einstein saw it for the first time when he visited Hubble. The Hooker’s still in operation at Mount Wilson.”

  Dante asked, “So you’re assuming Pandora is hidden somewhere beneath the telescope?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where?” Milana asked.

  “We’ll have to figure that out when we get there.” Despite this final bit of uncertainty, Charlie grinned, proud of herself.

  Dante couldn’t help but smile back. The day hadn’t gone nearly the way he had hoped, and there were still plenty of problems to contend with, but for now, at least, it appeared that his hunch to bring Charlie aboard had paid off. They didn’t know exactly where Pandora was, but they were much closer than anyone had been in more than half a century. And while John Russo had a head start on them, they were making up time. Perhaps they were even ahead of him.

  Milana yawned suddenly, then seemed embarrassed she had done it. “Sorry.”

  “Why?” Dante asked. “We’ve had an incredibly long day. We’re all cruising on fumes, and we have a long flight ahead of us. You should get some sleep.” He pointed to the bedroom.

  Milana nodded agreement, then stood up, yawning again.

  “That goes for you, too, kiddo,” Dante told Charlie. “Share the bed with Milana. I’ll sleep here on the couch.”

  Charlie watched Milana shuffle toward the small bedroom, then asked Dante quietly, “You’re sure you wouldn’t rather be in there with her? You could do a little smooching before bed.”

  Dante flushed red, then glanced to see if Milana had overheard this, but she was already in the bedroom. He turned back to Charlie. “Can it with that, will
you? It’s unprofessional.”

  “I’m twelve, Dante. Of course I’m unprofessional. Eight years ago I was still picking my nose and eating it.”

  “Then I guess I need to be the adult here.” Dante stood and pointed to the bedroom. “Bedtime. Now.”

  Charlie stood and shrugged. “Okay. But I think she’d like a little smooching too.”

  “Go to sleep,” Dante ordered.

  “Fine.” Charlie teasingly made a kissy face as she headed into the bedroom.

  The room was at the rear of the jet and thus was quite narrow. The bed was only a twin size, so there was barely enough room for two people. Milana was already lying on one side, on top of the covers, facing the wall, the only way to give Charlie any privacy. She was still wearing her clothes from that day, even though they were dirty and sweaty and had some spots of what Charlie suspected was other people’s blood on them. They had nothing else to change into.

  Charlie lay down beside her, looking up at the ceiling. “You like Dante, don’t you?” she asked.

  “Of course I like him. He’s an excellent agent.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I mean, you like him. Right?”

  “How much did you pay for this jet?” Milana asked.

  “You’re avoiding the subject.”

  “Because I don’t want to talk about it. How much?”

  “Half a million dollars. Plus a ten percent charge to the bank for arranging everything.”

  Charlie felt Milana stiffen in surprise next to her. “That’s a lot of money for one flight.”

  “The expense seemed worth it, given that the fate of the world was at stake.”

  “Still . . .”

  “What else was I going to do with it? Buy half a million dollars’ worth of candy?”

  Milana said, “You should know, when Dante first came to me with this plan, I thought he was insane. I didn’t think there was any way that some girl your age could possibly be of use to us. But you have—and under far more dire circumstances than we imagined. You’ve done good, kid.”

  Milana expected a cocky response to this, but none came. Charlie didn’t say anything at all.

  Because she was asleep.

  “You’ve done good, kid,” Milana repeated, and then closed her eyes and hoped that Charlie was right about Pandora, and that they’d left all the trouble behind them.

  • • •

  In the main cabin Dante waited to make sure that Charlie was asleep, then tried to use the jet’s Internet so he could call Jamilla Carter. He wanted to alert her as to where he was heading, maybe have a team get to Mount Wilson right away. Only, the Internet was down.

  He knocked on the door to the cockpit and informed the pilots about this.

  “Sorry about that,” the copilot answered through the door. “I’m afraid the Internet won’t be operational for the entire trip.”

  Dante was sure that was a lie. “I really need to make a call. It’s a life-or-death situation.”

  “I’m sorry,” the copilot responded. “That won’t be possible.”

  “Could you make an emergency landing so that I can get to a phone?”

  “Our orders are to fly directly to Los Angeles without making any stops.”

  Dante frowned. “And who are those orders from?”

  “Miss Thorne. She’s the one who hired the plane. And she was very specific about this.”

  “Miss Thorne is only twelve. . . .”

  “Nevertheless, she’s in charge. If you would like to change the plans, I’d suggest you talk to her.”

  Dante sighed and returned to the couch. He considered waking Charlie and telling her why he needed to talk to the CIA, but he knew she wouldn’t listen. She obviously didn’t trust the Agency.

  For the time being, she was calling the shots. They were on their own.

  FORTY-THREE

  At any given moment there were more than four thousand working satellites orbiting the earth. A startling number of them were for espionage. Most were owned by various countries, although some corporations had them as well.

  Of that staggering amount of technology floating in space, only five of the satellites were owned by Israel. Four were for spying, and the fifth was a telecommunications satellite that still had some espionage capabilities. The satellites didn’t cover the entire world—but they could take in a sizable piece of the northern hemisphere. One was locked in geosynchronous orbit above Israel, constantly scanning the Middle East for signs of trouble, while the others circled the globe at eighteen thousand miles per hour. The one Isaac Semel was using was currently orbiting over the North Atlantic.

  Semel had learned the type of jet Charlie Thorne was on and the top speed it was capable of with the gas tanks loaded. He knew the current wind conditions. And he knew the coordinates it had locked in for the first fifty miles of flight. He had some of his specialists run the numbers to give him an idea of where it might be if it wasn’t heading to Denmark.

  If it was going to Europe, he was in trouble, because it would be there by now, grounded on one of a thousand airstrips. But Semel assumed it wasn’t heading to Europe. There would have been no need to top off the tanks unless they were going farther than that.

  So he had to consider two other things: the direction the plane had taken off—and where Einstein had been in his life.

  The answers pointed to the United States.

  Einstein had visited many countries, but he had spent the last half of his life in America. It was a country he loved, a country he knew well, a country he felt safe in.

  So Charlie Thorne and the CIA were probably headed there. Now all Semel had to do was find them.

  All planes that headed from Israel to America passed over the arctic. The paths were known as great circle routes, and the nice thing about them was very little moved in them except airplanes.

  Although thousands of people went from Europe to North America and back every day, that didn’t translate into very many planes—only about two hundred, and those weren’t all in the air at the same time. Furthermore, most of those planes were quite large: commercial jumbo jets and military transports. Only a few thousand corporations and a few hundred individuals had private jets capable of making the flight—and those jets were significantly smaller than the other planes.

  So all you had to do was calculate where the jet holding Charlie would be, given the plane’s weight, speed, and the prevailing winds—and then look for it. It was dark over the North Atlantic now, but jets had lights and—more important—heat trails. Over the cold, inky darkness of the arctic, they were easy to locate. Finding the right one wasn’t like looking for a needle in a haystack; it was more like looking for a specific needle in a pincushion. There were only a few dozen possibilities. You simply had to examine each closely to see if it was your target.

  Semel ordered the satellite facility to put their best recon men on it.

  They nailed the jet on their fourth try.

  It was exactly where it should have been, crossing over Ellesmere Island above the arctic circle. It was moving at the right speed. And while it was hard to tell from so high above at night, the plane appeared to have the proper shape and heat signature. And nothing else in the sky matched it.

  They had the plane.

  Now they just had to see where it was going.

  FORTY-FOUR

  Los Angeles International Airport

  John Russo couldn’t believe his ears.

  He had checked his phone messages the moment the plane landed, expecting news from Alexei. He hadn’t necessarily expected it to be good news; with their greater numbers, the odds were that the Mossad would have captured Charlie Thorne before the Furies could kill her. But according to Alexei, Charlie hadn’t just stayed alive; she had somehow gotten on a plane.

  How had she done it? Who on earth was Charlie Thorne? And more important, was she heading to Mount Wilson?

  John wanted to believe she wasn’t. She couldn’t be. Charlie didn’t even hav
e a copy of Einstein’s clue, let alone the key for decoding it. And she was only a kid. And yet by now John’s experience told him to take nothing for granted where Charlie Thorne was concerned. He would have to keep his guard up.

  The moment his plane reached the gate, John leapt to his feet. From his business-class seat, he was almost the first off the plane.

  It was ten minutes after six a.m.. It was still night, although day would be breaking soon.

  While Alexei’s phone call had been upsetting, there was one bit of good news. According to John’s phone, the call had been made at forty-six minutes after midnight in Israel. John’s flight had taken off at midnight on the nose. So, if nothing else, he had a forty-six-minute head start.

  He still needed to get his luggage, but his suitcase was also the first off the plane. Alexei would have said that was God smiling upon them, proof that their mission was divinely inspired. Alexei had seen the hand of God everywhere.

  John merely assumed it was a perk of business class.

  John didn’t believe in God. He considered Alexei’s constant interpretation of events as God’s will to be mere rationalization for bad behavior. As for his own bad behavior, he knew exactly what the root of that was: He no longer wanted to be John Russo.

  But to become someone else, he needed money. And Pandora was worth millions.

  Countries would pay handsomely for the power Pandora offered. And they would pay to make sure other countries didn’t have it. Which country ended up with it would simply be a matter of price.

  Once John had his hands on Pandora, he would ransom it. He would contact the security agencies of the twenty most powerful countries in the world and convince them he had Einstein’s last equation. He would give them the facts first. And if they didn’t believe him, then he would prove it.

  He would blow something up.

  Nothing in a city, of course. John wasn’t a mass murderer. He had no interest in causing death, destruction, and despair simply to make a point. No, he would set off a bomb somewhere remote. A desert. Or an island in the South Pacific. The same way governments had let the world know they had nuclear weapons back in the 1940s. Sure, a few people might get poisoned by the radiation, and he might decimate the local wildlife and bake the sand into glass, but you couldn’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs. After that everyone would know he truly had Pandora. Then he’d begin taking offers.