Brody ran his fingers through his dirty hair, grimacing at the oily residue. He hadn't had a shower in nearly two days. He grabbed the throw pillow he'd been laying on and threw it forcefully across the room. He couldn't do much more damage than the police had already done and the act of helpless rage somehow made him feel better. If only he knew where Max was, if only he knew what Max was doing, if only he could dispel the doubts that gnawed at him, then maybe he wouldn't feel so desperate and frustrated.
Then he remembered that he'd found a few more papers after he'd turned the boxes over to Cindy and he'd shoved those in his pocket. The police had searched his apartment but they hadn't searched him. Unable to fall asleep, he took the papers out to read them and what he read put Max's meteorite collection into a whole new light.
Betyl Stones, also known as Baetylus or Bethel Stones, were sacred stones believed to be endowed with life. According to legend they were actually meteorites. Bethel Stones were mentioned in the biblical Book of Genesis. As the story goes, Jacob, after sleeping with his head upon a stone, had a strange dream in which many angels were traveling to and from heaven to the place where he was sleeping. God himself then appeared and made promises to Jacob.
When Jacob awoke, he named the place where he had slept 'Bethel' and called that place the 'gate of heaven.' As a gate is simply a doorway from one place to another, and heaven is not of our dimension, one might hypothesize that the Betyl Stone could be used to open a doorway into another dimension.
The biblical story of the Betyl Stone is reminiscent of the story of Thomas Aquinas, the priest who possessed the Philosopher's Stone, and who experienced a supernatural event so profound that he refused to talk about it - an event which changed his beliefs. Whereas Aquinas had been a prolific writer, after his supernatural experience he refused to write stating that, "All that I have written seems like straw to me." Whatever he experienced shook the very foundation of life as he knew it.
If the Betyl Stone was indeed a meteorite it would surely be of an exotic variety. The rarest of the meteorites are the stony-iron meteorites which make up less than 2% of all known meteorites. The two types of stony-irons are the Pallasites and the Mesosiderites. The Pallasites are the most valuable, especially when they are made of abundant quantities of olivine crystals, at which time they become known as the gemstone 'peridot.' Gems from the Marjalahti meteorite in Russia were used to set the quality standard for the gemstone peridot as we know it today.
Among its many powers, the Philosopher's Stone was thought to transform ordinary crystals into precious gems. What could be more precious than a meteorite with crystals so pure that they set the standard for our gemstones today?
The three sub-groups of Pallasites are the Eagle Station group, the Pyroxene group, and the main group. The Eagle Station group is rich in olivine crystals and they are related to the II-F iron meteorites. Only three locations make up the Eagle Station group: Eagle Station, Cold Bay, and Itzawisis.
The Eagle Station, Kentucky find occurred in the year 1880. The Cold Bay, Alaska find occurred in 1921. Cold Bay included many meteorites, all of which were corroded. The Itzawisis, Namibia find included a single meteorite which was found in 1946. The Itzawisis meteorite was discovered stolen from the Transvaal Museum in Pretoria, South Africa, in 2001. No one knows how or when the theft occurred.
It was later discovered that a man who went by the name of 'Jerome' was selling rings made from a Pallasite meteorite, which was thought to be the stolen Itzawisis meteorite. While some of the rings were recovered, they do not account for the entire meteorite. It is assumed that there are more of the Pallasite rings from Itzawisis.
Brody was starting to see connections among the various subjects that Max had been studying. Namibia, South Africa, was where many of the Knights Templar had ended up after being chased out of Europe. One thing that Brody had discovered in the Cantor papers was that no topic was random. Every subject, no matter how isolated it first appeared, led to something else. Somehow it was all connected: the Knights Templar, Temple Farm in Kent, Edmond Halley, Georg Cantor, the Philosopher's Stone, meteorites, and maybe even men with tails. The man with all the answers was missing and wanted by the police and Brody was left to connect the puzzle pieces that Max had left behind. The next piece of the puzzle revolved around meteorites.
There is a confusion regarding the naming of the Pallasite meteorites. A common error is to associate their naming with the 2-Pallas asteroid, but they are actually named for German zoologist Peter Simon Pallas. They do not come from the Pallas family of asteroids that generate the Geminids meteor shower as one might suspect.
The annual meteor shower known as the Geminids is believed to originate from object 3200-Phaethon, a B-class asteroid composed of dark material, which is thought to be a Palladian asteroid of the Pallas family of asteroids from the main belt of asteroids.
The Pallas family includes 2-Pallas, 3200-Phaethon, and other smaller asteroids. Scientists believe that 3200-Phaethon may have broken off from 2-Pallas. While most meteor showers come from comets, the Geminids come from a single asteroid. The meteors that make up the Geminids however, are more numerous than the single asteroid could possibly provide, shrouding the origin of the Geminids meteor shower in mystery.
The origin of Pallasite meteorites is much debated. Infrared spectroscopy has marked three asteroids as being the potential source for the Pallasites: 246-Asporina, 289-Nenetta, and 446-Aeternitas. Asporina is an R-class asteroid in the main belt of asteroids. Nenetta is also a main belt asteroid, as is Aeternitas which is an A-class asteroid.
The stony-iron meteorites are thought to come from the collisions of various asteroids during the early days of the solar system in the region of Mars and Jupiter. New evidence, however, places them in the vicinity of Mercury, Venus, Earth, and Mars, where they eventually became part of the main asteroid belt.
Pallasite meteorites are exotic cumulates consisting of jewel quality olivine crystals, iron-nickel, troilite, chromite, schreibersite, pyroxenes, whitlockite, stanfieldite, farringtonite, and merrillite.
Most troilite found on earth is from meteors. It is often found in meteors from the Moon, Mars, and possibly Jupiter's satellites Ganymede and Callisto. An Italian Jesuit by the name of Domenico Troili is widely credited as having written the first description of the fall of a meteorite.
Schreibersite is also known as 'Shepardite of Haidinger' and its crystals belong to the tetragonal group of crystals. It is unknown what type of meteorite that Jacob slept upon in the Book of Genesis, but it is interesting that Jacob, who lived at a time when shepherds were common, may have slept upon a meteorite that consisted of a mineral known as Shepardite.
Brody hadn't realized until Max disappeared that some of Max's rocks might be meteorites or objects with mystical powers such as Albertus Magnus' reference to the 'power of stones.' The police had been pretty rough with them and Brody hoped that none had been damaged.
Max wore a ring that Brody now knew was made from a meteorite. Among the Cantor papers, Brody had found a copy of a letter that Max had written to a shop that sold crystals, fossils and a variety of minerals. Apparently Max was a very good customer and his letter thanked them for giving him first dibs on buying the unusual meteorite ring when they came across it.
Brody wondered if the ring was from the stolen Pallasite meteorite. Why else would Max have researched it with such precision? At least it was apparent that Max wasn't the thief, only the recipient of stolen merchandise. Somehow this didn't appease Brody who still harbored the guilt over his own petty thefts from decades earlier.
Brody put the papers down and flipped on the TV, hoping for a respite from Max's troubles. A newswoman in a grey suit stared out at him through a thick pair of glasses. The newswoman's plain attire did not detract from her comeliness. The librarian look was all the rage.
A picture of Max was in the upper right corner of the screen. Brody turned up the volume in time to hear the bad news "...and the s
earch continues for Maxwell Cantor, wanted in connection with the First National Bank robbery. His accomplice, Edward Coggins, has already been arrested. The arrest took place early this afternoon."
The news broadcast showed a video of Coggins' arrest. Several policemen surrounded Coggins, roughly throwing him up against his car and handcuffing him. His face was a mask of utter bewilderment. For a brief moment Brody pitied the man even though he'd always suspected that Coggins would find trouble someday. The bewildered expression was probably a ploy, a put on. How had Max gotten so mixed up with this guy?
The broadcast continued: "Sources tell us that a set of blueprints found in Cantor's apartment led to the search for Cantor and the arrest of Coggins. The police won't say exactly how the two men got inside the bank without being seen by the cameras, but they assure us that a second arrest will be forthcoming." The picture of Max was replaced with the picture of a giant pyramid. "Fans are arriving from all over the country for the concert at the great pyramid..."
Brody turned off the TV with an angry jab of his finger and berated Max in absentia. "How could you put me in the middle of such a mess? I thought I was your best friend! Damn you, Max!" He was interrupted by a soft knock at the door. It was Cindy.
"Brody, I've found something! I think I know Max's secret..."
Table of Contents
* * *
Rochester, New York
Jimmy drove slowly along while Ellen looked for the house number. East Avenue was a main thoroughfare, one that boasted many a wealthy patron, so the snowplows visited with firm regularity. A thin layer of slush passed loudly under the tires like water on a rainy day. On either side of the street, snowbanks rose several feet high where the snowplow had been dumping its load. Cars sped down the road, oblivious to the slush.
"There it is!" Ellen pointed to an ivy-covered brick house with the name Phillips on the mailbox. There wasn't much to differentiate the houses. They were all elegant red brick or stucco manors fully encased in ivy from ground to roof. The vines were leafless in the winter, lending a desolate look instead of an aesthetic one. The stately brick manors gave the impression of being on the campus of an elite prep school and one could easily imagine coeds pouring out of their dormitories on the way to class. Only the well-to-do could afford one of these.
Jimmy pulled into the driveway and switched off the engine. The co-conspirators looked at each other: Ellen expectantly - Jimmy apprehensively.
"Ready?" she asked.
Jimmy looked out at the house with its overwhelming air of wealth and aristocracy. "Ready," he declared.
Together they marched up to the door and rang the bell. The door was answered by a distinguished man in his fifties, greying at the temples and looking comfortable in a blue sweater and slacks.
"Mr. Phillips!" Ellen grabbed his hand, pumping it up and down. Jimmy was holding the box of photo albums. "You know me, don't you?"
"No, your face doesn't look familiar to me." He frowned slightly, pulling his hand away. "Say, you aren't the girl who called earlier, are you?"
"Yes! And this is my friend, Jimmy." Jimmy endeavored a feeble smile. Ellen continued, "I've come to show you pictures of Pat. You'll look at them, won't you? It's really important. She's missing and we've got to find her."
Mr. Phillips raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that what we have the police for?"
Ellen hesitated a moment, recalling her conversation with the police. Then she remembered it had only been last night since Pat had disappeared. "Yes, but the person has to be missing for at least twenty four hours before they'll file a report," Ellen explained, "and I'm really worried that something awful has happened to her. I didn't want to wait and maybe risk her life or something. Can we come in, please?"
Mr. Phillips studied them for a moment. "All right. You seem harmless enough, if rather misinformed. Come this way." He led them through a large foyer with a flagstone floor. A silver Christmas tree with big red bows and professionally wrapped presents underneath stood regally in the foyer. He led them down a hall to a sitting room. Mr. Phillips walked with a pronounced limp.
The sitting room boasted a blue and red Oriental rug atop a highly polished wood floor. Two ornate wooden chairs with red velvet cushions faced a red and grey patterned settee. A flagstone fireplace adorned one wall of the room with glass-enclosed bookshelves lining either side of the fireplace. Five stockings hung from the fireplace: Fred, Jeanne, Edna, Muffy and Buffy. Another silver Christmas tree decked out in red and blue bows stood in the corner. Mr. Phillips motioned Ellen to one of the wooden chairs. "Please sit down. Would you care for some tea?"
"No, thank you," Ellen and Jimmy answered in unison, ignoring the wooden chairs, instead sitting side by side on the settee. Safety in numbers, Jimmy thought.
"Well I would, if you don't mind." As if on cue, a matronly woman entered the room. "Edna, just the person I wanted to see!"
Edna was dispatched to the kitchen for tea. Mr. Phillips hadn't really wanted any, he'd just wanted to let Ellen and Jimmy know that he wasn't all alone here, and he'd wanted to convey his disquiet to Edna, his housekeeper. This wild story about a daughter named Pat and a wife named Norma... who knew what these kids really wanted? He studied them unobtrusively as he made a show of sitting down. They looked to be in their late twenties. He really couldn't call them kids.
"Now about these photos," he looked at Ellen expectantly.
Ellen retrieved the photo albums from Jimmy and showed Mr. Phillips the pictures of Pat's childhood. Without comment she showed him the pictures of himself, Norma and Pat as a family. There was no doubt that the man in the photographs was the same as the man sitting in front of her now. Mr. Phillips stared at the pictures for a long time.
"Where did you get these?" he asked slowly.
"I told you. Pat and I grew up together. I spent a lot of time with you guys. We had dinner together two weeks ago only this wasn't your house." Ellen paused and looked around the room. She took in several expensive looking paintings and the furniture appeared to be genuine Queen Anne.
Ellen continued, "You lived on Farmington Road. You were always comfortable but you never had this much money! How'd you manage to move so fast, anyway? Two weeks ago you never even mentioned moving and I didn't see any boxes anywhere."
Mr. Phillips shrugged noncommittally. He had been staring intently at Ellen as she'd studied his home. He wondered if she were "casing the joint" as they put it. He looked down at the pictures again. Yes, that was him, about thirty years younger, but who was the woman and child? He had no idea. It could have been anyone.
It wasn't unusual for a person to go to a gathering and have their picture taken with total strangers. Could this be some plot to convince him that he'd fathered a child thirty years ago and extort money out of him? That must be it, he decided. "Do you have any others?" he asked.
"Oh yes, lots!" Ellen showed him album after album with he and this woman and child progressing through the years. Some photographic forgery, perhaps? He frowned. The most recent photos were obviously taken this past summer. That shirt he was wearing, he'd gotten it for his birthday last May. It had been too early in the season to wear a lightweight shirt and he hadn't worn it until late June or early July. One became more sensitive to temperature as one got older. He and Jeanne had spent the summer in France and that was the only time he'd worn the shirt. Nobody could have photographed him in it unless they'd traveled all the way to France. The photo appeared to have been taken at one of the Finger Lakes, Canandaigua perhaps.
Ellen's voice broke into his thoughts. "Well?" she asked triumphantly. "Can you explain these pictures? Can you tell me where this girl is?" She pointed to Pat.
Mr. Phillips didn't want to admit or deny anything to Ellen and Jimmy. He was sure this was some sort of blackmail scheme and he wanted to stall them until he could talk to his attorney and the police. With impeccable timing, Edna entered with a tray carrying his tea and a plate with lemons.
"I'm dreadfully sorr
y to have taken so long. Muffy was scratching at the door to go out. She needed to do her... um... business. Muffy's one of the dogs," she explained to Ellen and Jimmy. "I had to wait for her out there. It's chilly today," she shivered, turning back to Mr. Phillips. "Here's your tea." She set the tray down on the table beside him.
Mr. Phillips smiled. "Thank you, Edna. You were right to hold up my tea for Muffy. She does have this nasty habit of having accidents on the floor," he explained apologetically, glancing at Ellen.
Ellen grinned. "I understand." He appeared to be much more relaxed now, thought Ellen. What she didn't know was that Edna had correctly interpreted his signal to call the police.
Mr. Phillips stalled until the police could arrive. Instead of answering Ellen's questions he countered with a question of his own. "What exactly do you think happened to Pat?"
Ellen became agitated. "That's just it... I don't know! At first I thought some man had gotten her, maybe even murdered her, but it's so confusing. When you said you'd never heard of Pat or even Norma, your wife, and the police found some man's name under her address and phone number, and everybody thought I was crazy and making up this whole thing of Pat Phillips as if she didn't exist... why did you say you'd never heard of her? Have you two had a quarrel or something?" Ellen glanced pointedly at the stockings hanging from the fireplace. Both Pat and Norma's names were conspicuously absent.
The Cantor Dimension Page 10
