Will you tell me about your predictor?”
“No.”
Staranov peered at Rubenstein’s face. “I must tell you, Professor, your color
concerns me. Again, do you have cardiac problems?”
Rubenstein shook his head.
Staranov grasped his wrist and closed his eyes. “Too swift. Much too swift. Vera
Davidovna, the Lopressor.”
Naveeva injected a liquid into Rubenstein’s arm.
“We shall allow the Professor to rest.”
“ Sam, Sheila. I—”
“What time is it?”
“Seven-thirty. I can’t reach Aaron. I—”
“Wait a minute.” Larson shook his head. “Sorry. Just waking up.” Sheila waited a moment. “Have you heard from him?”
“No.”
“Perhaps his heart. He’s always had some trouble and he hasn’t completely
re covered from the accident last May.”
“I’ll go over.“
“No, I’m not sure that’s appropriate. If he’s there, he’ll either be angry with me or
embarrassed.” She paused. “Let’s give him one more day. I’ll try tomorrow morning and let you know.” Rubenstein was asleep when Staranov returned two hours later. “What do you think, Vera Davidovna?”
“We may continue.”
Staranov laughed. “You are a bloodthirsty one, Vera Davidovna. You would think we could continue if you were hearing his death rattle.”
He looked at her and pointed to his left ear.
She handed him another probe.
He scraped his ear canal, then examined the results. There was a small amount of wax. He smiled and returned the probe to the woman.
He shook Rubenstein. “Awake, Professor. Your color has returned.” Rubenstein nodded.
“Now, while Naveeva places you in position, I think you might like to know why I must take control of your predictor. Perhaps you will be sympathetic to my need. Might that be possible?”
Rubenstein shrugged.
“I wish to bolster my position with my associates. My team and I have suffered a few setbacks lately. Not our fault, but these failures have lessened the regard our leader has for me. Your predictor would alleviate this problem.”
Rubenstein nodded.
“Will you give me the secrets of predictor?”
“No.”
Staranov grasped Rubenstein’s right ear between his thumb and index finger. “Professor, I am what Americans employing slang call an ear man. I have always had an interest in ears. Shall I tell you why?”
Rubenstein nodded.
He chuckled. “I shall I tell you the family myth. I was three or four years old and attending a birthday party when a magician hired for the party produced a kopek from my left ear. Family legend has it that I continued thereafter to search for additional coins. Is that not a charming story?”
“Charming.”
He fondled Rubenstein’s left ear. “Shall I look for kopeks in your ear?”
Rubenstein shook his head.
“Ah, but I shall, I shall. To continue, torture via the inner ear has two main advantages. One, exquisite pain can be generated. And, two, if the patient dies, there is little likelihood the authorities will find any evidence of an injury. Do you follow?”
“Yes.”
“I shall now introduce you to my tools and related equipment. First the tools.” He displayed a small black leather case. “They are the instruments of a dentist. The case fits one’s pocket with ease and passes any airport inspection.”
He held a tool in Rubenstein’s view. “Finest Swedish steel. An excavator. For what purpose might an excavator be employed in treating an ear?” He cackled. “Wait and see, Professor, wait and see.”
He waved another tool in front of Rubenstein’s eyes. “An explorer, Professor. I leave it to you imagine what an expert such as I might do with an explorer.” He displayed another tool. “A scaler. Very important in treating the sides of the canal that stretches from the outer to the middle ear.” He held a pair of pliers for Rubenstein to see. “These are called cotton pliers, Professor. They are used to hold bits of cotton—to absorb blood, of course.” Staranov chuckled. “A bit of blood is sometimes shed, you see, but you need not be concerned. I am more adept in the handling of these tools than any dentist alive.”
Rubenstein didn’t respond.
Staranov stepped back. “My associate will describe the equipment necessary for our next step.”
Naveeva displayed a white nylon harness. “When this is adjusted correctly to the head and shoulders, the patient can only breathe, flutter his eyelids, and flex his head and neck muscles.” She paused. “And, of course, scream.” She giggled as she began fitting the apparatus. “Or perhaps talk.”
Staranov nodded at Naveeva. “Very good.”
He moved to the foot of the bed. “While we wait, allow me to review one of my earlier statements. I am going to provide you with never-ending, always increasing pain. Deep inside your skull, you will feel—and hear, of course—me at work, scratching your eardrum, or, perhaps, piercing the drum to reach the small bones that lie beyond. The level of pain will be such that you will have two related thoughts. One, the pain you are feeling is unbearable and, two, it will never end. This condition will so consume your thought processes that you will be disassociated from every concept, every idea, every memory. Your work will mean nothing to you, your family will be forgotten, and your very need to breathe will be lost. You will give me the secrets of your predictor and be happy you did so.
The woman completed the installation.
Staranov shook Rubenstein’s shoulder. “You can feel the utter restraint, can you not?”
Rubenstein fluttered his eyes.
He grasped Rubenstein’s left ear and giggled. “Right ears are acceptable, but I have had my eyes on your left ever since my arrival.”
He looked at his tools. “The explorer, Vera Davidovna.”
She clapped her hands.
“And the light.”
She shone a penlight in Rubenstein’s ear.
Staranov touched the entrance to the canal with the explorer.
“Stop!”
“Stop? Already?”
“Stop! I—tell. I—tell. I! Tell!”
Chapter 24
“Naveeva, gather our associates. Quickly!”
She ran to the laundry room door. “Come, everyone!”
Dreshchensky and Romanidze took positions beside Naveeva at the left side of the
bed.
Staranov stood at the far side. “Where is Mr. Cooper?”
Dreshchensky shrugged.
“Never mind. He would not enjoy the coming scene.”
He swelled his chest. “My patient has responded to my treatment.”
The watchers smiled.
He leaned over Rubenstein’s body. “Tell us, Professor.”
Rubenstein rolled his eyes to his right.
Staranov waved the explorer. “This will not do. You are embarrassing me in front of
my associates.”
Rubenstein began whispering.
“Wait, Professor, allow my computer magician to listen.”
Romanidze hesitated.
Staranov slapped his face. “Move, fool!”
Romanidze leaned forward.
“Now, Professor! Or I shall take your hearing and your mind!”
“UNIX. Hidden files. Find program named Augur.”
Staranov frowned. “Spelling?”
“A-u-g-ur. Open. Read.”
“Is a password required?” Romanidze said.
Rubenstein didn’t respond.
“A password, old man?”
“I have—modified UNIX. Password is always yesterday’s date.”
“Modified UNIX?”
Staranov leaned forward to touch Romanidze’s shoulder. “This is a scientist, a
professor of mathematics. I believe we can rely upon his statements r
egarding a computer.”
Romanidze closed his eyes. “What is the format of the data?”
“Numeric, with slashes. Full date. American format.”
Romanidze nodded. “I believe I am ready.”
“Good. The Professor will wait for us here—until we can be sure about what he has told us.”
Romanidze nodded.
“Where is the Professor’s equipment located?”
“At his house,” Dreshchensky said.
“Why there?”
“T.C. says that he is on leave of absence from the NOAA laboratory.”
“Take me to my hotel, then escort our young computer wizard and Mr. Cooper to the Professor’s house. Test the output of the program against the last one hundred days of his outputs.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Call me at my hotel when you have the comparisons.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Vera Davidovna, remain here. A little water and perhaps some nourishment.” He smiled at Rubenstein. “And remove the restraints.”
Staranov leaned over Rubenstein’s body. “Are you not in fact very, very happy, Professor? As I promised, the pain is gone.” He paused. “Gone forever—unless, of course—but we shall not think about that possibility.”
“Broke,” Rubenstein mumbled.
“You broke? As in broke down? Lost? Gave up? You are chastising yourself? But, of course you broke, Professor. Whether you lasted a minute or an hour or a day, it was only a matter of time.”
Rubenstein turned his head away.
“A man who could think of a way to predict the movements of the American stock market is much too imaginative to survive long a torture constructed within his own mind. I have known Libyan peasant boys who allowed me to pierce their eardrums and commence my attack on the small bones. Your weakness was that you could picture those small bones. On the other hand, I congratulate you. I would not have been surprised had you surrendered your secret much earlier.”
July 3
Staranov was still asleep when Dreshchensky called. “We have failed.”
“Close the computer, close the house, and come for me.”
An hour later, Staranov, his mafya associates, and Cooper were gathered around Rubenstein’s bed.
Staranov bent the little finger again. “Can you imagine why I am causing you pain again, Professor?”
Rubenstein closed his eyes.
“Of the one hundred solutions your program provided, none matched the listed final output.”
Staranov released the finger, then bent it back again.
Rubenstein gasped.
“Vera Davidovna, place the Professor in the harness again.”
Staranov paced as Naveeva replaced the fittings. “You have cost me time and money and frustration, Professor! In a few seconds you will wish you had not had this minor and very temporary victory!”
He studied Rubenstein’s face. “Wait, Vera Davidovna. Bad color. Very bad. Are you feeling ill, Professor?”
Rubenstein smiled.
“What do you find so amusing, Professor? What do you think your are—”
“Nausea.” Rubenstein strained against the harness, his eyes protruding and his neck muscles quivering. “Beginning to feel light-headed.”
“Quickly! More Lopressor!”
Rubenstein flexed his muscles again. “Goodbye, Eugen Yakovich Staranov.”
“No! No!”
Rubenstein strained again. Perspiration burst out on his forehead.
“Hurry, durak!”
Naveeva dropped the syringe. She bent to recover the syringe. Staranov shoved the woman out of the way. She fell spread-eagled on the floor.
Staranov retrieved the syringe and stood, but he was only in time to see Rubenstein’s muscles relax and his sphincters loosen.
Naveeva covered her mouth and screamed.
Staranov recovered the Bastinado and swung it at everyone in the room. “You failed me! All of you have failed me!”
He fell into a chair. His head slumped onto his chest.
“What happened?” Dreshchensky said.
Staranov looked up. “Suicide. The Professor had a weakness of the heart. He induced a attack. He has killed himself.”
Cooper stepped forward. “We’ve got to deal with the body.”
Staranov slapped Cooper. “The predictor is lost to me, Mr. Cooper, yet your concern is what to do with a body?”
“Damned right! If the police get into this, they’ll learn about me looking for him.”
“That is your problem, Mr. Cooper. However, dealing with the body will be so simple that I will take time to solve it for you.” He nodded toward Dreshchensky. “You and Mr. Cooper take the body to the Professor’s house, place it unclothed in a bathtub, and turn on the shower—there will be a shower, will there not, Mr. Cooper?”
“Bound to be.”
“Activate only cold water, leave it running, wipe away your fingerprints throughout the house, and leave the lights on.”
Dreshchensky frowned.
“You have a question? My solution is simple, yet elegant. You see, he did die of a heart attack. We only need to set the scene. The authorities will find that the Professor has foolishly decided to neglect his heart condition by taking a cold shower.”
Staranov, Naveeva, and Romanidze were having breakfast in Staranov’s suite when Dreshchensky and Cooper arrived.
“Is your assignment complete?”
Dreshchensky nodded. “The body is naked, slumped in the corner of a bathtub. Cold water is splashing on the body.”
“Fingerprints?”
“Wiped clean.”
“We shall hope there is no police investigation. A bathroom with no fingerprints would be an oddity.”
He burped, then waved his hands to scatter the resulting miasma. “I have no next step in mind. Thoughts?”
Dreshchensky shook his head.
“The damn thing’s lost,” Cooper said.
Staranov stared at the American. “Are you so anxious to be rid of us, Mr. Cooper?”
Cooper didn’t respond.
“In any case, we must turn to other business. Magician, ship the Professor’s computing equipment and documentation home and arrange it as you found it here.” Romanidze nodded.
“There you will reestablish the program’s capability, then—”
“Most difficult, Eugen Yakovich. I shall have three problems.”
“They are inherent, but you may list them for me.”
“One, I do not know what the input data are, and two, I do not know from where they come. I must learn what these data are and how to capture them.”
Staranov nodded.
“And three, when the data are in hand, I still must find why the processing does not produce the desired results.”
“Proceed apace, but also prepare a watchdog program that will examine trading in— what is it?”
“S&P100 and S&P500.” Romanidze hesitated. “What does this task accomplish?”
“It may be wishful thinking on my part, but it is possible that the predictor is not lost. If you don’t solve the Professor’s final riddle, the watchdog may nevertheless lead me to the predictor.”
“I do not think—”
“You are not qualified to think at this level. It is I who think. Study the market before the predictor was instituted, the market during the days of its operations, and the market since. Watch for any indication that the predictor is again operating.”
“That will be difficult, sir.”
Staranov glared at him. “Perhaps, but that is your concern.”
Romanidze nodded.
Staranov turned to Dreshchensky. “Return to Brighton Beach and determine how you may be useful. Do not wander far.
He faced Cooper. “You are free for the moment. You are not on the payroll, but I may need you. Secure the telephone number of our headquarters in New York and keep us informed as to your whereabouts.”
“Now, just a goddamned minu
te! This party’s over. I don’t want any—”
Staranov nodded at Dreshchensky, who punched Cooper in the kidney, grabbed a pudgy shoulder, spun the man around, and buried his fist in Cooper’s midriff.
“Accommodate me on this, Mr. Cooper.” He paused. “And apropos of this display of poor attitude, you will telephone our handsome friend every day.” He paused. “Or await his return if you do not.”
Cooper was fighting for breath, but nodded.
Chapter 25
Sheila cal led Larson later that morning. “I’ve been trying Aaron since seven. I’m coming down. I’ll be at his house by eleven.”
“I’ll meet you.”
She was leaning against the entry door, crying, when Larson arrived. He ran to her. “What—”
“It’s awful.”
“What?”
“Aaron’s dead. In the shower.”
Larson hurried inside. He pulled the shower curtain aside and twisted both faucet
handles. Only the cold-water handle moved. He was reaching for the left wrist when he saw the eyes. Sheila had herself under control when he returned to the entrance. “I’ve already called 911,” she said.
Larson put his arms around her shoulders. She resisted momentarily, then relaxed.
He led two medical technicians and a policeman to the bathroom door. A second policeman blocked Sheila’s entrance. “We’ll take care of things, ma’am.”
An hour later, the ambulance crew and the police had gone. Sheila and Larson sat on battered lawn chairs on the narrow porch.
“Aaron would never have taken a cold shower. I give you this scenario. A purported Mafioso makes demands on a government scientist. The scientist refuses to comply. He is subsequently threatened with physical harm. He is then found dead in what anyone would consider unusual circumstances. Also, two computers—of a type unknown to the general public and useless without special knowledge—are missing. So also are the contents of two large filing cabinets. So what do the police have to say?”
“I don’t know what they said, Sheila, but it’s not a very high-class neighborhood. I think they had no choice—robbery by person or persons unknown.” He paused. “And a natural death.”
“The sergeant attempted to mollify me by saying they’ll keep the case open for a while.”
Larson nodded, then patted Sheila on the shoulder.
She started back inside.
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