The Soul of the Matter

by Bruce Buff

  How strangely things had turned out. After living a life dedicated to self-satisfaction, where fun had passed for happiness, he now thought fulfillment might come through what he could do for others. The thought did not displease him.

  PART 4

  Chapter 62

  9:30 A.M.

  The announcement blared through the cabin, waking Dan. They were above ten thousand feet, climbing to cruising altitude.

  Conditioned by years of flying early in the morning, Dan had fallen asleep as the plane, wheels rumbling rhythmically, engines racing, had started down the runway.

  He and Trish were on their way back to Boston, where a difficult encounter with Evans no doubt awaited him. Ignoring government directives and needing to be extricated from a murder investigation would have consequences. There was even the possibility that Evans had found a link between Dan, Stephen, and Viktor, and that would be a real problem.

  But Dan would have to wait to find out. With more than four hours to go on the flight, Dan retrieved his laptop computer while Trish gazed out the window at the nearby, snow-covered peak of Mount Rainier. They were in the last row of first class, with a bulkhead behind them, and, two rows further back in coach, a US Marshal, there to ensure their safe arrival.

  Opening his computer, Dan placed his thumb on the biometric reader and then entered a series of complex passcodes. A scanned copy of Stephen’s journals appeared on the computer’s screen. He tapped Trish to get her attention, then placed the computer on her lap. Whispering, he said, “Place your thumb over the reader,” while pointing to the thin slit at the lower right of the keypad. “Every three minutes, a prompt will appear on the screen instructing you to reverify your thumbprint. If you don’t do that within twenty seconds, the computer will lock you out. If you try to connect to a Wi-Fi network, or insert any reader devices, the computer will also lock you out. I hope you find something.”

  “So do I,” Trish said with a reserved expression, and then turned her attention to the images on the screen, scanning the words and paging through rapidly.

  From his angle, Dan couldn’t see what she was looking at. The computer’s polarized screen guard prevented viewing from any angle but a direct one. He hoped he hadn’t made a mistake by trusting her so completely, so quickly, knowing so little about her. He still didn’t know why she seemed to be close to Stephen’s work yet claimed to know so little about it.

  While Trish worked her way through the documents, Dan looked around the cabin, thinking about what had happened. The knowledge of what Sam had endured hung over him.

  The precautions Dan had taken when they left San Diego should have been enough to keep his and Trish’s movements secret. Yet they had been found, and setting up Sam’s death as a clumsy attempt to frame them had been meant as a warning. Had they led the killers to Sam, or was it the other way around? Was Sergei involved? What did the killers know, and what would they do next? They could have waited in the room and subjected Dan and Trish to the same treatment as Sam, but they had not. That probably meant that Sam had been the only target. With Sam gone, it might not be long before the killers turned their attention on Dan and perhaps Trish as well. He wouldn’t let her face that risk. He’d go on alone, while making sure that Trish was well protected. He’d already had more than enough people dying around him, and he was convinced that she had something special of her own to do.

  Beyond protecting her, he also wanted to avoid emotional complications. The evening before, he had said too much, indulged his emotions and exposed weakness, felt more intimacy than could be there, and longed for someone else to help make him feel whole. In the morning, embarrassed by his behavior, he had adopted a stoic approach and stronger demeanor. He’d have to make himself into whatever he needed to be before ever considering something real with her.

  Trish, too, had been different since the moment they had woken up, reserved and distant, leaving Dan feeling that she also regretted the closeness of the evening before and wanted to restore emotional distance between them.

  But this was extraneous now that he had gathered himself together and refocused his attention on what needed to be done. The remaining hours of the flight would be dedicated to figuring that out. Top of the list was determining what Sam had meant by “another.”

  • • •

  Four hours and twenty-five hundred miles of silence later, they were below ten thousand feet, and Dan was stowing his computer. Twenty minutes to go until Logan.

  Fighting the awkwardness he still felt, Dan asked Trish, “What do you think?”

  “He surely believed everything you’ve said, and it had a profound effect on him,” Trish said, her face showing no emotion. “And I have no idea what the symbol he drew means.”

  Disappointed but not surprised by the little she had found, Dan replied, “Even though I had been through the pages many times, I was still hoping you’d find something that I’d missed.”

  “His references to imaginary numbers were interesting,” Trish said with what Dan thought was the appearance of a slight twinkle in her eyes.

  “Where was that? All I saw were names of a few mathematicians that I couldn’t make anything out of.” How had Trish made a connection to imaginary numbers? He knew that imaginary numbers, now integral to mathematics, physics, and engineering, led to analyses that made possible all sorts of technologies and structures. As real as the results were, imaginary numbers themselves didn’t exist. They were the square root of a negative number. Square roots were numbers that when multiplied by themselves yielded their squares. The problem with finding square roots of negative numbers is that a number times itself, whether positive or negative to begin with, always yields a positive number. The square of positive or negative 2 was 4. The square root of 4 was either 2 or negative 2. In reality, a negative square, and hence its square root, shouldn’t exist. That was why square roots of negative numbers were called imaginary. You could never represent them with a physical quantity.

  With her first full smile of the day, Trish said, “You did notice the small sketch of a bird with the squiggly i embedded in it on page eighty one?”

  “The bird, but not the i. And what of the names? I researched the mathematicians in the journal—Descartes, Leibniz, Euler—but didn’t find a connection.” Dan answered.

  “It probably would have helped if you’d seen the i and recognized the bird. It’s a heron. And of course i is the symbol for the square root of negative one, and that should have tipped you off. While you were dozing—and by the way I had to elbow you a few times to stop your snoring—I used the internet connection on this screen since I couldn’t use your laptop for that” —Trish pointed to the pop-up monitor on her seat’s left armrest— “to research them. It turns out Heron of Alexandria was the first to make note of imaginary numbers in fifty AD, but didn’t know what to do with them. They were considered an absurdity. This persisted through three Italian mathematicians, past Leibniz, until Euler first made the first real use of them. It was all easy to research and obvious once I found the initial connection. What do you think all this signifies?”

  “I think that you figured a lot more out than I did,” Dan replied, trying to determine what this new information meant.

  “It’s funny. So many brilliant minds were offended by the idea of square roots of negative numbers and thought they had no use, yet without them, quantum mechanics and a lot of modern technology would not exist. The products couldn’t be designed without the math,” Trish said.

  “Well, whether it turns out to be useful or not for us, I’m really impressed,” Dan said.

  “Thank you. I like solving puzzles.” Trish made a point to look at Dan as she said it. “And there is one more thing you’ll find interesting. Leibniz said imaginary numbers are ‘an elegant and wonderful resource of the divine intellect, an unnatural birth in the realm of thought, almost an amphibium between being and non-being.’ ”


  Dan thought the words sounded like they could relate to evolution, though he didn’t think Leibniz could have had that in mind. But what was Stephen thinking when he had made his notes? Was he linking imaginary numbers and human origin? Were they involved in the algorithms that were being used for genetic expression? That would mean all creatures were the result of deliberate thought, and therefore a designer.

  “I was right to have you look at the journals,” Dan said, refraining from adding that he was mad at himself for not seeing what she had.

  “There’s more,” Trish said. “The heron and i were on page eighty-one. The square root Heron was trying to find was the result of eighty-one minus one hundred forty-four. Turning to that page, I saw a negative sign in front of the page number. The result is negative sixty-three. If you look carefully at the journal’s page numbers, you’ll see the page numbers skip from sixty-two to sixty-four. No sixty-three, as though its absence is a negative. Seems like a clue,” Trish said.

  Dan couldn’t believe it. “I thought it was just a mistake. I’m going to have to take a closer look when we’re back on the ground. Does it mean anything?”

  “Only that maybe there was something that belonged there and its absence is a clue of its importance. Maybe it’s a clue about the passcodes.”

  “When I first noticed that sixty-three was missing, I noticed that sixty-two seemed to have no connection to sixty-four, and I thought it was just a page-numbering error,” Dan said. “Maybe some things on sixty-two and sixty-four are clues to what would have been on sixty-three. Did you look closely at those pages?”

  “I tried. Sixty-two seemed odd. Whereas most of the journal was about Stephen’s scientific work, a lot of this page was about his dad. Sixty-four had a lot of equations, with K as the main variable. One had a large arrow pointing away from K with a ribbon just to the right of that.”

  “Anything else?” Dan asked.

  “Not in the journals. But I did find another interesting quote that I stumbled on while looking at Leibnitz’s quote. It’s from John Maynard Keynes, speaking of Isaac Newton: ‘He regarded the universe as a cryptogram set by the Almighty . . . By pure thought, by concentration of mind, the riddle, he believed, would be revealed to the initiate.’ Maybe Stephen thought so too and had set out to unravel it.”

  Dan could see that she was reveling in revealing the information bit by bit. “You have a knack for the remarkable today. And I like how you’re enjoying being mysterious.”

  With a mischevious smile, Trish said, “So you think I’m mysterious? Why’s that?”

  “Sometimes you look at people in a way that is different from anything else I’ve ever seen, in a way that seems to almost physically affect them. There is a depth and magnetism that seems to lurk beyond your eyes, hinting at powers yet to be discovered. When you touch people, it seems to change them for a moment. People say things to you that they might not to others, as though you have a power to make them do that,” Dan said, once again realizing, too late, that he had said more than he should. He was embarrassed by how his increased awareness of himself, a truthful interaction with reality, was being manifested in honesty that was unmanly, though no longer weak. In a sense, he was becoming stronger by being more aware, more in the world, and relating more directly with people, though he had to learn how to manage this new strength.

  After a moment of almost solemn quiet, Trish asked, “You make me seem like a sorceress. That’s not very nice.”

  “That’s not at all what I meant. It’s hard to explain,” Dan said, trying to find a way to dig himself out without denying what he had said. “You just have a remarkable way of connecting with people that really comforts them, helps them through difficulties. It’s amazing, really.”

  “Well, that sounds better,” Trish said without a lot of conviction. It was as though she was aware of the truth of what he said but was bothered by it.

  Dan decided to switch to small talk. “What do you do for fun when you’re not working?”

  In a flat and distant voice, she said, “I like hiking in the Catskills, where I vacationed as a kid, reading books, traveling, the usual stuff.”

  He worked up the nerve to broach the topic that had been on his mind since the prior night. “It must be hard to have a social life with medical school, residency, and now your position at the hospital.”

  “I have a full life. But if by that you mean am I romantically involved with anyone, I’ve had a boyfriend for a year and a half. We don’t see each other as much as we’d like, but we try. What about you? I’m sure you have a busy social calendar,” Trish said.

  He shouldn’t have been surprised that she had someone, but he was still taken aback. Dan tried to focus on his answer. “A pretty wonderful lady lived with me for two years. I don’t know why, but it didn’t work for me in the end. I kept telling myself she deserved better when I really meant that I didn’t want to be responsible for someone else’s happiness. Before I get involved with anyone else, I have to sort through a lot of things. I can’t look to anyone else to make me who I need to be.”

  “That’s more insight than most people have and a good plan. You should follow it.”

  Neither of them said anything for a few minutes. It seemed neither was in the mood for small talk. Dan decided her answer was an indication to keep his distance. He changed the topic again and said, “Going back to imaginary numbers, what I remember most about Descartes is his assertion of ‘I think, therefore I am.’ What do you think the connection is to Stephen, his work, and imaginary numbers?”

  “I think the connection between imaginary numbers and Stephen’s work is probably real,” Trish replied, giving no indication she had intended a pun.

  Dan was thinking the same thing. And he also thought that it was time to pay a visit to Kevin Collins. Stephen always referred to his dad as his Father. Maybe that is what page 62 meant. And the Ks on page 64 could represent a Kevin who became Father Michael. Priests wear collars that look like ribbons. Maybe pages 62 and 64 did flow together and the missing 63 pointed to Kevin Collins. Maybe the i in the symbol Stephen had drawn pointed to Father Michael. If so, what did the rest of the symbol mean?

  There was only one way to find out.

  • • •

  Dan and Trish were followed off the plane by the US Marshal, and at baggage claim they were met by two other US government agents. The taller of the two said to the US Marshal, “We’ll take it from here.” Turning to Dan and Trish, he said, “Come with us. Cars outside will take you to your homes.”

  “What about Evans?” Dan said.

  “He’ll contact you when he returns from Washington. Until then, you’re free to move about as long as you stay in the Boston area. An agent will be with you at all times to ensure your safety.”

  “No doubt Evans will have a lot to say when he returns,” Dan replied.

  “No doubt,” the agent affirmed.

  Chapter 63

  MID-AFTERNOON

  The government sedan pulled into a spot in front of Dan’s brownstone, depositing him and Trish there while an armed agent remained in the car. They had come to together with the intent of regrouping, and contacting Father Michael, before Trish went to her own apartment.

  A warm summer breeze rustled the leaves overhead. Patches of light and shade moved along the ground as the sun pushed through a partly cloudy sky.

  “This is a nice neighborhood,” Trish said as they walked up the steps.

  “Thank you.” Dan unlocked the door and held it open for Trish. “We’re going to the third floor.”

  “Two flights of stairs isn’t a bad way to exercise lightly. Who else lives here?”

  “A young couple has the parlor floor. A British insurance executive has the second floor. The garden apartment is empty. I like having the backyard to myself.”

  “Not bad,” Trish said as they entered Dan’
s apartment.

  “It works for me. I’m making coffee. Would you like some?”

  “Yes, please,” Trish said, opening the refrigerator door. “You know, you’re old enough to stock this better than if you were a frat-boy bachelor.”

  “I went through a stretch where I didn’t eat much. Had I known you were coming, I would have stocked it properly.”

  “An impossible-to-test hypothesis. Therefore it’s not a scientific statement and can’t have real-world validity,” Trish teased, returning to a more light-hearted mood.

  “Not so. Once all of this is over, I can prove it by cooking you a nice dinner from a fully stocked refrigerator,” Dan said, getting ambitious with her again.

  “First things first,” Trish answered. Looking out the living room window that faced Storrow Drive and the Charles River, she said, “You have a nice view.”

  “Especially on the Fourth of July. The Boston Pops and fireworks are straight across. That’s part of the reason I bought this building. You’re welcomed to watch them with me if you like. It’s really nice sitting on the fire escape with a bottle of nice wine and good cheese.”

  She ignored his invitation and looked toward the flashing light on Dan’s answering machine on the kitchen counter. “You’re a techie and have an old answering machine? There is a message on it.”

  “When my father died, I transferred his number to my landline and attached his answering machine, with his greeting, to it. Don’t ask me why I still have it. The only people who use it are old friends of my parents trying to get in touch, or my community-related things. I use my cell phone for everything else.”

  “Don’t you want to listen to the message?”

  “You can play it,” Dan said, sure there wasn’t anything that would be problematic for her to hear.