A Rambling Wreck: Book 2 of The Hidden Truth

by Hans G. Schantz

  Hello Anonymous Patron,

  I know you told me I shouldn’t look further into the matter of Angus MacGuffin, but the whole event is so clearly just a small piece of a much larger puzzle. Curiosity. Cats. You know.

  I suppose I shouldn’t tell you the exact way I figured this out for fear someone starts asking about who’s been poking around the relevant archives. Suffice it to say that others in the period – like Sweeney – were similarly curious about the demise of the mysterious missionary Mr. Angus MacGuffin and received visits from G-men telling them to leave it alone. One of them looked into the G-men and their background. These G-men seem to have been a most special group of special agents – confidants reporting to J. Edgar Hoover, himself. One in particular came to the FBI as a veteran of the Pinkerton Detective Agency and was a key figure in the National Bureau of Criminal Identification before that. They were an outfit the Pinkertons founded in 1897 with the help of state and local law enforcement officials to create a central library of mug shots, fingerprints, and criminal records. In 1924, one year after the death of William Pinkerton, young J. Edgar Hoover’s new “Bureau of Investigation” took it over. They became the “FBI” in 1935.

  Is this who you fear will be after anyone unwise enough to poke into the events surrounding the murder of Angus MacGuffin?

  If so, I have more ominous news for you.

  I found a couple of vague mentions, speculations really, that “The Circle” was involved. I immediately thought of our own “Circle,” the Civic Circle. However, they only became widely known in the post 9/11 era when their members pooled their efforts and resources to help in the recovery from that devastating attack. According to their claims, they’ve been around as an informal gathering of the high and mighty since the 1950s or so. There have been rumors and speculations that the organization dates back even earlier. I believe those rumors are true.

  I believe these mysterious G-men or FBI agents are part of an organization that dates back to the earliest days of the FBI and possibly even to the Pinkerton Detective Agency. The Pinkertons not only served as Lincoln’s intelligence agency during the Civil War, they also pioneered the art of infiltrating criminal groups and labor unions.

  Another of the “G-men” involved in l’Affaire MacGuffin has a most curious past. Eyewitness reports from 1910 place him on Jekyll Island, a junior member of the team providing security for a group of bankers who met together to hammer out details of what would come to be known as the Federal Reserve System. Details are in G. Edward Griffin’s The Creature from Jekyll Island. This gathering sounds suspiciously like the Civic Circle’s better documented meetings on the island from the last decade or so. The data point troubles me, because it suggests that both the Circle and their mysterious protectors and enforcers have been active over a hundred years. How old are they really?

  That’s what I’ve been trying to find out. I understand you’ve been keeping me in the dark for my own protection, and I’m beginning to appreciate why. Call me terminally curious, but I intend to keep poking into this. If they are still active today, I figure they may be less sensitive about these dusty old records. All events leave fingerprints and echoes in the archives if only you know where to look and how to put the pieces together.

  I’ve passed on what I’ve learned in hopes you’ll reciprocate with more of what you know.

  Stay safe. I’ll try to do the same.

  Petrel

  Amit and I certainly got our money’s worth hiring this Petrel character. I forwarded his note on to Amit and Rob with a recommendation we share what historical background we’d uncovered about the Circle’s crusade against electromagnetic scientists.

  The next morning I was back in the lab with an overnight inspiration. What about antimony-126? That’s the isotope that results from the beta decay of tin-126. After switching out glass disks and starting up the vacuum chamber again, I took a look and discovered that antimony-126 decays relatively quickly and emits a high energy gamma ray. I looked back through the data set for the characteristic decay energy of antimony-126. There it was – a ghostly outline that looked exactly like the maps I’d generated of the tin-121 decays. We couldn’t see the beta decays of tin-126, but I could use the gamma rays emitted by the decay of antimony-126 decays as a proxy for the concentration of tin-126. For all practical purposes, the two isotopes of tin would be chemically and environmentally identical.

  Now I had an accurate comparison. I used the ratios for the Chernobyl cloud to normalize for the different isotope fractions. A fission tends to produce more tin-126 than tin -121. Then, I used the technique to try to date the Kyshtym disaster. It came up 1955, two years off. Not too bad. Soon, I was dating all kinds of Cold War nuclear incidents. Some were obvious. The Nevada test site had multiple overlapping results from different tests. My analysis averaged out to the late 1950s, which made sense because they’d stopped testing above ground in 1963. A few locations were a bit surprising. I found a big hotspot along the Iowa-Minnesota border that dated to 1960, for instance. Fallout from some test further to the west? By then it was getting late. I set up an analysis to sift through our entire global database using the tin ratio to date the most significant radiation fallout events.

  My grades were finally available. I pulled them up. I ended up with B’s in Differential Equations and Introduction to Programming. This first was a disappointment, but the way I struggled with the material, it was a reasonable outcome. That last really annoyed me – a valuable lesson, though, in distinguishing between knowing the material and jumping through the instructor’s arbitrary hoops. I earned my A’s in Linear Circuits and Electromagnetics, thanks in large part to Dad’s patient tutelage in the basics. Mom’s relentless insistence on memorizing atomic weights and ionic states in my high school chemistry class gave me the foundation to excel in my university class – I earned an A in Chemistry. From here on out, though, I was on my own. I’d just managed to squeak out an A in Introduction to Social Justice, too.

  I exchanged a few notes with Rob and Amit. The details of Heaviside’s work might lead back to Mr. Burleson and ultimately ourselves if the letter were uncovered or if Petrel had been compromised or was working against us. My recent work on Majorana? I’d been careful, but Professor Chen and Professor Graf both knew I’d been looking into him. Best not to mention that. Still, Petrel had shared some valuable insights. Rob and Amit agreed that I should reply to Petrel with some additional information, in hopes of learning still more from him. He hadn’t asked for more money, and he appeared to be motivated by his own curiosity, so we didn’t offer any payment. I drafted the following note, trading our insights for his.

  Greetings Petrel,

  Thanks for the note and for the risks you are running in your research. I share your interest in uncovering the hidden truth of our history, and I would be delighted to share what I know and suspect in hopes my insights provide you with leads and clues useful in your own investigations.

  I believe you are correct regarding the deep historical roots of the Circle and their agents operating under the cover of FBI agents. They are still active today, seeking out forgotten books that might reveal the truth behind their schemes. Be careful in your research to leave no trace and always have a plausible, innocuous subject of research available to alibi your investigations. Leave no fingerprints or DNA on the papers, documents, and books you examine, and no record of your interest in them.

  L’Affaire MacGuffin, as you called it, highlights a connection between the Circle and events in Chinese history. As you noted, MacGuffin had a wealth of information and artifacts he brought home – some of which he may have hidden or entrusted to his “thorny friend.” The Circle was clearly very sensitive about the secrets that MacGuffin might have been able to reveal. I’m confident they’d be just as violent in suppressing the same secrets today. Now, they have even greater resources– the full might and power of a surveillance state that monitors all but the most encrypted and secure communications in th
e name of preventing “terror.” Be careful.

  Identifying MacGuffin’s friend and tracking down the MacGuffin cache would be of great potential value. We do not fully understand the Chinese connection, although many of the Circle’s overt actions today appear to run in parallel to those of Imperial China – aiming for harmony, order, social stasis, dripping with contempt for commerce, and centralizing power in the hands of an educated elite all professing the same homogenous doctrine. The Circle may well have a long pedigree stretching back hundreds of years.

  We believe the Circle, or an allied or precursor organization, was equally violent in suppressing certain scientific truths. Three of the five pioneers of electromagnetics – Maxwell, Hertz, and FitzGerald, met premature deaths. The other two, Heaviside and Lodge were sidelined. Each death was caused by cancer of the jaw or stomach. We suspect an ingested radioactive poison as the means by which this happened. Interestingly, Kaiser Friedrich of Germany died by a similar affliction after only ninety days on the throne of Imperial Germany, thus paving the way for Kaiser Wilhelm and the First World War.

  Your research pointing out a connection between the Circle and the creation of the Federal Reserve was very illuminating. We would welcome any further insights you might share.

  Stay Safe

  Your Anonymous Patron

  * * *

  The mirror lab was a lonely place. Professor Chen dropped by once and was pleased with my results. “Maybe you could present a paper at GammaCon,” he suggested.

  “GammaCon?”

  “The annual conference on gamma ray physics and phenomenology,” he explained. “This year, it’s up in Chattanooga at the Choo Choo.”

  I’d been there before. The Chattanooga Choo Choo was the city’s old train station, converted to a combination train museum, hotel, and conference center. They even had guest rooms in the old Pullman cars, although most of the rooms were in a more traditional hotel building.

  I worked a few more days on compiling the most interesting of the gamma ray results. The Friday before Christmas, Amit drove down to Atlanta for an overnight trip to consult with me on Gomulka’s data.

  “I can’t believe he just gave us all the admissions data,” Amit marveled at the shocking breach of privacy. “We have everything here on next year’s class – grades, scores, essays, applications, and the social justice psychological profile results. I can’t believe the administration just gave it to him.”

  “I can’t believe he got the administration to add this psychological profiling questionnaire to the admissions process,” I added. “He must really have a lot of influence.”

  We analyzed the candidates according to the criteria Professor Gomulka gave us. Some of them appeared to make sense – for instance he preferred candidates who scored high on compliance with authority and came from single parent homes without fathers. Membership in Boy Scouts or Junior ROTC was a negative, in his scoring. Other made little sense – for instance, he preferred candidates who scored high on conflict avoidance and didn’t play team sports.

  Amit and I began developing our own set of evaluation standards. We included good grades and high test scores, but by and large looked for the psychological opposite of Professor Gomulka’s criteria. We wanted the strong-willed, independent rebels.

  Amit had already discussed the plan with Uncle Rob who surprised me by giving it his blessing. We eliminated almost all of the strongest candidates according to Professor Gomulka’s criteria, and filled two-thirds of the class with mediocre social justice candidates who seemed fairly innocuous. The remaining third of the incoming social justice slots we populated with our candidates.

  “That ought to derail the program without being completely obvious,” I noted.

  “I’ll modify the applicant database so our candidates appear to be the winners according to Professor Gomulka’s criteria,” Amit volunteered. “Then, I’ll upload our modified file to Gomulka’s computer, and overwrite his. I think I can use Gomulka’s credentials to modify the original copy in the Admissions office.” He drove home Saturday morning, the day before Christmas.

  Christmas fell on a Sunday. I’d considered going home, but I simply didn’t feel comfortable hanging out with Uncle Rob. I understood he had good intentions, but for now, I just wanted space and solitude. Trying to learn more about the mysterious missing scientist, Ettore Majorana, I looked into the life of his mentor, Enrico Fermi, the man responsible for the first nuclear reactor and a key contributor to the Manhattan Project. His wife, Laura Fermi, wrote an interesting memoir of her life with Enrico, Atoms in the Family. Early Christmas morning, I found the critical passage in Laura Fermi’s book:

  A short time after his [Majorana’s] return to Rome a tragedy occurred in the Majorana family. A baby, a little cousin of Ettore’s, was burned to death in his cradle. The baby’s nurse was suspected of setting the cradle on fire. One of the baby’s uncles was accused of having instigated the nurse. Ettore refused to believe that his uncle could have committed such a depraved, coldblooded crime. Ettore wanted to prove his uncle’s innocence, clear him of a suspicion that could not fail to taint the entire Majorana family. He hired lawyers; he took personal charge of all details in the defense. His uncle was acquitted.

  Angus MacGuffin’s mysterious Mr. Bini. The scientist who “derived the Heaviside theory they thought they had hidden.” The man MacGuffin quoted, saying: “They burned my poor little cousin to death when I refused, and they threatened others in my family.” The timing seemed right. MacGuffin was in Buenos Aires in 1939, Majorana vanished from Italy in 1938. According to Atoms in the Family, Enrico Fermi had delivered lectures in Argentina and Brazil in 1934. Might he have been able to provide contacts and introductions to his young protégé? In the 1930s, Argentina was still one of the most prosperous places in the world, on par with many European countries, and an excellent place for a young Italian speaker to make a fresh start.

  I’d made solid progress, and I was confident I had identified Mr. Bini. What a wonderful Christmas present! I decided to treat myself to a lunch out by way of celebration.

  Every place I stopped at, though, was closed for Christmas. My frustration mounted. Finally, I found an open Waffle House. I made a late breakfast of it with an omelet and hash browns, scattered, smothered, chunked, and covered. Coffee, black. The thrill of my discovery faded and my mood began to match the bitter brew. This was a mistake. Oh, the food was tasty enough. With each bite though, I couldn’t help but compare it to Mom’s usual Christmas dinner – a savory ham, green beans, and cornbread. I’d never taste that again – at least not seasoned with the same sense of maternal love and family and contentment. I’d never have a Mom-cooked meal again. Never sit respectfully waiting for my father to say grace. My parents were dead. I was estranged from my sister and my uncle. I’d made yet another minor breakthrough, but I had no one with whom to share it. All thanks to the Civic Circle. Sure, I was chip, chip, chipping away at their secrets. Ultimately, though, what did it matter? What was I doing? Was I only fooling myself? How could I possibly overturn the Civic Circle and their reign of terror?

  “Y’all right, honey?” asked the waitress as I paid my tab.

  “Yes,” I lied. “Merry Christmas.”

  I made my way home and back to campus, and I took a long walk to clear my head. The goal I set for myself seemed insurmountable. Destroy the Civic Circle. Change the world. Impossible. “The journey of a thousand miles,” Dad’s voice came to mind.

  “Begins with a single step.” I filled in the rest myself. I know, Dad.

  “How do you eat an elephant?” Dad was also fond of asking.

  “One bite at a time,” I answered.

  “To master the world…”

  “You must first master yourself,” I completed Dad’s thought. Back to work.

  Sadly, I finished Atoms in the Family without any other major epiphanies. I was no closer to figuring out the how “the curious yin-yang symbol followed from the calculations of a Rus
sian mathematician and an American named Smith.” The only Smith in Atoms in the Family was Cyril S. Smith, a British metallurgist and colleague of Fermi’s on the Manhattan Project. I could find no evidence of his collaboration with any Russians.

  Petrel was right, though. All events leave fingerprints and echoes in the archives if only you know where to look and how to put the pieces together. It’s genuinely hard to hide the truth. It’s out there. A hint from here, a suggestion from there, and soon you have enough pieces to fill in the rest of the picture. I had to keep searching for the little pieces and figuring out the big picture. I had to trust that in doing so, I’d also figure out the appropriate course of action.

  “Go get ‘em Pete!” I could imagine my father’s voice with the same tone and cadence he used when he was coaching my fourth grade basketball team.

  “I’m proud of you, Peter,” I could almost hear my mother’s voice, as well.

  I’d internalized my parents, their ideas, and their teachings to the point where I could almost hear their words and feel their presence. Looking back, I think I actually did end up with what I most wanted for Christmas that year – one last Christmas with my folks, if only in spirit.

  Chapter 7: In Plain Sight

  “Oh, this is so hot,” was Amit’s reaction as Ashley’s video tirade transitioned to pornography. “I never did get her back to our room, you know.” He was enjoying the show far more than I enjoyed the actual event. “Oh, yeah, look at her go! That girl is fine!” Then, he saw me stop her and the final eruption. “What?!?” He turned and looked incredulously at me. “Why did you stop her?”

  “You were dating her,” I explained, “and I’m dating her roommate. It didn’t seem right. And in case you haven’t noticed, she’s crazy.”

  “Of course, I know she’s crazy. Crazy is hot,” Amit opined. “She was about to educate you on that very principle. She wanted to get even with me and re-establish her self-esteem by seducing you. You should have let her have her revenge sex with you – the perfect no-strings-attached hook-up. You should know I’m not going to mind. ”