The Soul of the Matter

by Bruce Buff

  Meanwhile, Trish saw her small doctor’s kit open next to Sam and her scalpel stuck in his hand. Before Dan could caution her not to touch anything that could incriminate them, she withdraw the scalpel and used it to cut Sam’s bonds. Dan grabbed Sam’s body and gently lowered it to the floor. There were bruise marks on Sam’s face and neck. His hands looked like they had been caught in a meat grinder. There were burn marks on his arms. Blood ran down one corner of his mouth. Whatever he had known, and probably the thumb drive as well, was undoubtedly in the hands of the people who had done this to him.

  Distraught, Dan wanted to lash out in anger and frustration.

  Opening Sam’s shirt, empathy for Sam drawing pain on her own face, Trish put her stethoscope on Sam’s carotid artery and with surprise said, “He’s alive, but barely.”

  She grabbed the Epi-pen from her kit and gave him a shot of adrenaline. Then she placed an asthma inhaler in his mouth and gave it a short burst. A faint rasp of air escaped his lips. His face was drawn tight and racked with pain. His eyes fluttered and he tried to speak. Trish put the stethoscope to his throat, listened, and repeated what she’d heard: I didn’t crack. Stephen was right. You must finish his work.

  Dan bent over to Sam’s ear and said, “Where’s the thumb drive, and what’s your code? I need to access Stephen’s files.”

  Dan followed Sam’s eyes to the broken fragments of the thumb drive that were left behind. Most, but not all, of the main circuit board was gone. Dan was frustrated and relieved that it was useless.

  Struggling to form words, Sam mouthed something that Trish somehow picked up: Remember, everything has a shape. Symbols have meaning. There is another . . . find them . . .

  Sam’s right hand tried tracing something in the rug as he mouthed code. His bloody finger only left a smudge.

  Dan asked, “What symbol? What meaning?”

  With the sounds of sirens quickly approaching, Sam’s eyes looked skyward, and he moved his mouth for the last time. Placing her left hand on his forehead, her right hand on his heart Trish whispered something into his ear. Sam’s face relaxed. With a barely visible smile on his lips, he closed his eyes for the last time. His body lost all animation.

  “He’s at peace now,” Trish said.

  “What did you say to him?”

  “Those are just words, of no consequence now, that I say only to my dying patients. Don’t ask me why I do that. They don’t mean much,” she replied.

  “You won’t tell me?”

  “You’re not dying,” Trish said.

  “This is going to be hard to explain to the police.”

  “It’s not going to help that whoever did this used my surgical knife.”

  “Keep the story simple. We’re here to find a treatment for Ava. A deranged man practically assaulted us in the underground city. We must have dropped the motel room key and he used it to come here. We don’t know what happened, but he clearly had unsavory associates who wanted something from him. Answer everything else exactly as it happened,” Dan directed.

  “They’re going to press for a lot more than that. What about calling Agent Evans?”

  “Already dialing,” Dan said, raising the cell phone to his ear as the paramedics and police entered the room.

  Chapter 60

  The motel lobby had been transformed into a temporary investigation headquarters. Trish and Dan sat next to each other on the lobby couch, cups of coffee in front of them on the low, worn, fake-wood table. Sitting across from them were Police Chief Wilson and his lead investigator. Several other police officers stood around, while others walked in and out, stopping occasionally to talk to one another.

  The chief was not happy. A man had been viciously tortured. Was it the work of a serial sadist who would continue to perpetrate his sick crimes? A targeted crime with a specific purpose? How were the two people in front of him involved? Chief Wilson didn’t like the looks of the guy Lawson.

  • • •

  Dan’s answers did not satisfy the chief. Another round of questioning was beginning.

  “You’re telling me that a complete stranger accosted you on a tour of the underground city, wound up in your motel room, where he was tortured, and that you arrived just as he was dying, and that he didn’t tell you anything about who did it to him or why? I didn’t get to my position by believing in extraordinary coincidences.”

  Dan looked the chief straight in the eyes. “I wish for both our sakes that I had more information. What happened in our room is extremely disturbing. Have you considered that we might have been the intended targets and perhaps the dead guy might have just stumbled in after taking off with our motel key?”

  “You know, I was wondering about that. Why do you think someone would target you?”

  As the chief said this, a detective walked up and spoke privately with him.

  In a serious tone, the chief said to Dan, “We have an ID on the victim. His name is Samuel Abrams.”

  Reading from a document on the tablet he held, the chief continued, “A former employer of his was the Human Betterment Corporation in Massachusetts. About a week ago, their director, a Stephen Bishop, also died under suspicious circumstances. Abrams recently worked at a place called The Broad Institute. He dropped out of sight about a month ago. You sure you don’t know any of this that you might have temporarily forgotten?”

  “No Chief Wilson. I would have told you if I did,” Dan insisted, but not too strongly, lest he be viewed as protesting too much.

  “The report also says you were long time friends with Bishop. I’m having a hard time believing that you didn’t know Abrams. You’re going to have to come down to the station where we’ll take as long as we need to jog your memory.”

  Just then, the chief’s phone rang. He answered it and mostly listened, occasionally speaking. The expressions on his face ran from exasperation to indignation to resignation.

  “Yes, I’m questioning them right now.”

  “No evidence yet.”

  “They appear to have alibis.”

  “I still have questions.”

  “It’s what?”

  “I don’t like it but we’ll arrange for it immediately.”

  Hanging up, the chief said to Dan and Trish, “It seems like your freedom, and well-being, are a matter of national security. I’ve been told to arrange for your lodgings tonight, provide security, and then see you safely placed on the first flight back to Boston tomorrow. An Agent Evans has bigger plans for you.”

  Chapter 61

  DAY 14

  THURSDAY, 1 A.M.

  Thanks to the police chief’s influence, Dan and Trish were set up on the fourth floor of a desirable hotel near the center of the city, even though a large number of conventions were taking up almost all of the decent rooms in the area. For security reasons, they were staying in one room.

  On the lower ten of the hotel’s thirty floors, a rim of exterior facing rooms were bordered on the inside by hallways that were open, above waist-high railings, to an interior courtyard, providing a vertigo-inducing view of the lobby below. Two glass-enclosed elevators, busily ferrying tired guests up and down, were on the front-entrance corners of the building.

  At Evans’s request, a policeman in the lobby kept watch on Dan and Trish’s room via security cameras and a line of sight to their door. Another was stationed nearby, out of sight.

  Wary, Dan had taken his own precautions. Propped up on a table near the door, his cell phone camera was pointed at the door handle. An app that he had written used video from the camera to act as a motion detector. If the handle moved, the phone would beep. If the door opened even a sliver, the phone would blare out a high-pitched squeal. He had installed the same app on Trish’s phone and aimed it at the window.

  Keeping sentinel, Dan sat in a cushioned chair across from the door. The room was dark, save for the light that
sliced out from the crack of the barely open bathroom door.

  A few feet away, Trish lay on top of the quilted cover of the queen-sized bed, a row of pillows down the middle of it separating each side. Though she wasn’t concerned, he wanted her to feel as comfortable as possible and had arranged the pillows.

  In their short time together, he had grown to sense something special about her that he wanted to protect, that his first reaction to her looking at him had been real, but not about her. Somehow she had the ability to see into people, and what he had experienced with her was the reflection of the way he had been, as odd as this could be. It was one of the many bewildering things now filling his life that he had to find answers to.

  After what happened to Sam, he wanted answers more than ever. Dan wanted to find out if there really was anything more to life than momentary existence; if there was a plan and purpose; if somehow each person’s suffering was made right. First Stephen’s and now Sam’s death seemed to yell out a resounding no.

  Even though it seemed like he was at a dead end, he would keep pushing on. Although his belief that his efforts would prove worthwhile was only an act of hope, not faith, the alternative was surrender. And whatever Stephen and Sam had known, it had proven strong enough to give them the will to persevere, to not surrender.

  Dan wanted the strength to do the same.

  • • •

  Lying on her side of the bed, fully clothed, Trish glanced at Dan, motionless in the chair. Although he was in the shadows, she could see him clearly.

  Trish was still shaken by what had happened to Sam. She was used to suffering and death in the course of her work. What sustained her through that, even gave her joy in her work, was the love she felt for her patients as she helped them through their treatments—and too often through to death. In the end, it wasn’t death itself that bothered her, but how people treated each other while they lived. While suffering mattered, how people loved and lived mattered more and its pursuit was worth enduring hardship.

  This made what happened to Sam all the more distressing to her, leading her to question her views on the nature of humanity.

  How could people be so evil? How could they do that to Sam? What possible concept of good could they have had to justify it? If evil was an objective reality—and this was a new thought to her—then what else was, and what did that mean? What was the source of her love and joy?

  She wanted to know what was so powerful that it motivated Sam and gave him the strength to endure what he had. Despite the intense pain he had experienced, he’d looked serene and comfortable in his last moments. How could that be?

  She looked over at Dan, motionless except to periodically raise his beer to his mouth. She saw someone of both great strength and great weakness. He seemed to doubt almost everything, including his own purpose. That was good, for him. Awareness of ignorance could lead to wisdom. She also needed to find a way to be wiser herself. The things that were happening were out of any frame of reference she had known.

  As she watched Dan sit there with his head in his hands, she heard a small sigh. After he finished his beer, he reached for a third one on the table next to him. Before he opened it, Trish got up and went over to him.

  She kneeled to the side of the chair, put her right hand on Dan’s left forearm, looked into his eyes, and said, “You have to lie down. Today was rough. There is no guarantee tomorrow won’t be worse.”

  “I can rest here.”

  “You need to be strong and ready to face whatever comes next. While I was studying to become a doctor, I learned that you have to get rest whenever you can. You won’t get that in this chair or with another beer.”

  “I’ll be fine. Go back to bed.”

  “I will when you do,” Trish said.

  “You turning this into a contest of wills?”

  “No, just good judgment. But if you won’t rest, I won’t, either,” Trish said, getting up to sit on the end of the bed.

  Dan didn’t answer.

  “What did Sam mean when he said something was encoded in DNA?” Trish asked. “I thought we’d discuss that with Sam. Now that he’s dead, I think you should tell me.”

  • • •

  With the risk they now shared, and the trust they were developing, Dan felt he owed Trish more explanations. He had gone over the room when they first arrived, but Dan was still cautious about listening devices, so he stood up, turned on the radio, sat next to Trish on the edge of the bed, and whispered into her ear.

  “Stephen told me he had discovered remarkable things encoded within DNA, more than just matter-based genetics, that after he had conducted a big experiment he would show me proof of our origins, souls, and destinies. Despite my disbelief, I was searching for something to grab onto in life, so I agreed to set up a secure computer network for Stephen and his team to do their work and store their data. In exchange, he would tell me everything. I used encryption tools from my old work. He died before he could provide me what he had promised. Without the passcodes he used to encrypt his files, I can’t access them. Something at the fusion center must have been part of the experiment he talked about. I need to find out what Stephen had discovered. I’m searching for a lot more than just a treatment for Ava,” Dan said.

  A look of wonder crossed Trish’s face. “That’s incredible. And Sam was going to tell you about Stephen’s work and, with your help, obtain the passcodes?” she asked.

  “That’s right. Now that he’s dead, I don’t know where to look for them,” Dan said.

  “What type of things did Stephen say he found?”

  “He only told me general stuff about genetics, human origin, and something about a relationship to physics.”

  “Sam said something about there being ‘another,’ like maybe someone else knows what he did,” Trish said.

  “I don’t know what to make of that. I guess I’ll have to look through Stephen’s journals again. Maybe you can look, too, see if you can find something I haven’t,” Dan said.

  “I’d like to do that. But first, we need to get some rest,” Trish said.

  Discouraged by the day, uncertain of what was coming next, he knew he needed all his resolve to face it. He wasn’t going to use any of it to fight her further.

  Dan stood up slowly and walked over to his side of the bed. He waited for Trish to settle herself, and then he lay down on his side.

  Moments later, Dan said somberly, “I found Stephen’s body, minutes too late.”

  Trish turned toward Dan, no pillows between their faces, sadness in hers, placed her hand on his shoulder, and said, “That must have been terrible,” with an empathy that made Dan feel like she was completely embracing him.

  “When I heard about the explosion at the fusion center, something told me that it might be related to Stephen’s experiment. I immediately started searching for him. I got to his MIT biology building just as he was being driven away in the back of a truck. I tracked him to the site where he had been taken and saw people fleeing. Then I found his body. He had scrawled a small symbol in the dirt that I haven’t been able to figure out. Maybe he died before finishing it. It’s the one I’ve shown. I haven’t told anyone any of this, not even Nancy, because I promised Stephen I would protect his work and his family. Afterward, I found a message he had left on his cell phone for me saying to look to be contacted by Galileo if anything should happen to him. There must be something to the choice of the name Galileo I need to figure out. I can’t let Stephen down a second time—I have to find the medicine Ava needs. And there are still things I need to find out for myself.”

  “It’s good you’re telling me this. It must have been so hard to keep this inside you, unable to share it with anyone. As awful as you feel, you have to accept that none of it was your fault,” Trish said softly.

  “If I had been a better person, I would have been there for Stephen and been able
to prevent all of this. I have a lot to make up for.”

  “You can’t know that. Things are connected in ways none of us can understand. What you’re going through now may be necessary for something more important later.”

  “Maybe, but it feels like everything I ever thought or did, all the choices I need to still make, are converging. I can’t make sense of it. I’m really lost.”

  “No, you’re not. Like everyone else, you’re on a crooked path to a straight destination. But you’re developing a good compass. You’ll find your way. We can start again tomorrow.”

  “I wish I had your optimism, your confidence. But thank you for everything,” Dan said, again embarrassed by all that he had said, but thinking it was the right thing to do. One more paradox to be understood.

  “Go to sleep,” Trish replied as she passed her hand gently across his face and then rolled onto her side, facing away from him.

  He was still not ready to think of God as more than an intellectual possibility, but he silently asked for peace. A warm blanket seemed to descend on him. Whatever energy he had left drained from him, taking all his anxiety and fear with it as well. Before he drifted off, he thought of Trish. He imagined the scent of her hair, the touch of her hand, the softness of her soul. How far he had fallen that he had to resort to longing after another to keep him afloat. Without words, encouraged by the peaceful feeling, he issued an entreaty to whatever might be out there, yearning for something that could, and would, answer. He imagined a life with joy and meaning, with someone like Trish. But it had to be real. The illusions of his past had failed him for too long.

  • • •

  Dan woke in the middle of the night. He had moved into an awkward position. Trish had also shifted. While she was still on her side of the bed, the pillows were no longer between them. Long strands of her hair rested on Dan’s face, and the fingers of her hand touched his forearm. Although he was physically uncomfortable in the position he was in, her touch was soothing, and he wasn’t going to move. He made the decision to become more than he had ever been; to become someone that Trish would want him to be.