by CP Haus
“Thus ended the case of the McConnell Finger. Once you know the ending, it’s quite obvious. McConnell was in deep financial straits, and hit upon the idea of insuring the bowl and then faking the theft. But he was a greedy man, and took the unusual step of reselling the insurance too quickly after the policy was written. He wanted the money but knew that his insurance company could not absorb the loss. The finger business was intended to throw everyone off the track, and it almost worked--indeed Sir James confessed that he was about to sign off on the theft as the work of ‘parties unknown’ and approve the police report as a theft.”
One could have heard a pin drop in the silence that ensued after Holmes finished. Then, there was applause, a great rousing round of applause. Holmes, blushing deep red, rose from his chair and waved to the assembled audience.
“If fear that my long-windedness has ruined the rest of our quiz night--can you all forgive me?” he pleaded. Everyone demurred, and said it had been one of the most enjoyable evenings we ever had. Poor Holmes was overwhelmed with offers of beer and I think the publican was the first to offer him a pint of his best bitter. The evening ended with a feeling of good will and friendship, even between opposing teams.
It was on the drive home that I posed the obvious question.
“Whatever happened to McConnell?” I asked as I drove back to our apartments.
“You know, Watson, the McConnell Finger case proves that there truly are moments of redemption in this world. Naturally, McConnell knew that I had exposed his plot. He also knew that he was more mortal at that instant than ever before in his life. I suspect that night he had an epiphany similar to that which Scrooge experienced in A Christmas Carol.
“For the next morning, a box arrived at Lee Fat, with a finger carefully wrapped in a box with instructions for its cremation and reunion with the body it belonged to. In later days, it was announced that McConnell had decided to sell almost his entire collection of jade to the National Museum. A massive but fair price was agreed. McConnell used the money to set his business affairs aright.”
I asked, “He sold almost all of it, you say? He kept a few pieces for old time’s sake?”
“No Watson,” replied Holmes, “He kept back only one piece. Can you guess which one and what he did with it?”
I was shocked. “You’re kidding, he didn’t!” I exclaimed.
I could see, as I drove, that Holmes was smiling.
“Indeed. McConnell kept back the Yang bowl, and, as a final act of contrition, he gave it back to Quin Soh, with a profound apology for his chicanery. Yes, McConnell made amends, and I understand that, upon his death, his many employees wept at his passing. He had truly redeemed himself. A lesson for us all, no?”
I drove on in silent thought. Holmes, I believe, appreciated my silence and did not interrupt it.
Chapter VI: Crimes Closer to Home?
It was a week later when our quiz team reassembled for our contest of wills. Everyone was still amazed by Holmes’s recounting of the McConnell Finger Case, and he was even more popular that ever. Professor Wright and the other team members were more delighted than others to see Holmes, for it was the final night and we were in contention for winning the quarterly championship in the Quiz. It was after the first part of the quiz that our discussion turned to possible criminal matters much closer to home than Singapore.
“Ah, it’s an extremely pleasant evening when the company and beer and our lead are in such excellent state, no Professor?” I asked with excellent humor.
Professor Wright handed out the beers (for which he was required to pay since he had missed two questions in the quiz) and said, “I should have known that last question! I think my distractions at work are not conducive to doing well at our quizzes!”
“What, the same problems of the wandering hard drives as before, Professor?” I enquired.
“Yes, it’s becoming a real mystery. Sometimes I think I am losing my grip on reality, Watson, I really do,” he complained.
“This seems a curious set of events, Professor Wright,” said Holmes, who was always on the lookout for anything mysterious. “Pray tell me more about the case, if you can.”
Professor Wright provided Holmes a quick description of his difficulties in locating his hard drives and their magical ability to turn up but in the wrong place. He ran a worried hand through his thinning grey hair.
“I simply cannot understand it. I have been very strict with the control of the hard drives, and they continue to wander around my office! What is equally troubling is that there are rumors and hints that other labs around the world are also making progress on the hunt for the Jigg-Figg particles. I cannot understand how they are doing so well with the antiquated equipment they have at their disposal--the cyclotron in Hangul, for example, is nothing compared to our linear accelerator.”
“This is indeed a curious case, Professor,” said Holmes with warmth. “I presume it is of not only scientific importance but also a matter of national security?”
“Yes, as I have told Dr. Watson, the Jigg-Figg family of particles has immense importance not only to science, but also has the potential of offering a weapons system that would disrupt telecommunications without affecting life. A sort of second generation nuclear weapon.”
“Might it be possible for Dr. Watson and myself to visit you at your lab sometime?” enquired Holmes.
“It would be difficult, since entry into the lab portions of SLAC requires a high level government security clearance,” said Wright. “You would need to have a clearance of at least Level 4 to enter the buildings.”
“Well now, that should not be a problem,” replied Holmes. “I have been given a Level 11 security clearance which, I think, should suffice...”
“Good heavens, Holmes!” exclaimed Wright, “how did you ever get such a high level of clearance? I believe Level 9 and above require the personal approval of the President of the United States!”
“Yes, it was a most rewarding case in which I was of direct assistance to your President. Most of the particulars were hidden from the press, but I believe some mention was made when the daughter of the Secretary of State was kidnapped? I was able to provide the crucial information that directed the authorities to the proper course of action resulting in the apprehension of a criminal cell and the clearing of an innocent man. My reward was both financial and a high level security clearance; the better to conduct my work. By happy chance, my extraordinarily high level of clearance permits me to extend the coverage to one trusted colleague, which will be Dr. Watson here,” said Holmes with a smile.
“This is truly most excellent of you, Holmes,” said Wright. “I trust that anything you might uncover would be treated in the most discreet manner possible?”
“My activities are the hallmark of discretion, my dear Professor Wright. However, I see we must finish off this most excellent beer, for the rest of the quiz night is about to continue,” said Holmes, as we all became aware of the pushing chairs and hearty challenges from the other tables. Mike Campbell, the noted Sunnyvale stamp dealer and leader of our quiz team, waving to us from across the room.
Our group of three stood up. Professor Wright said, “Then shall we say tomorrow morning at 10 am? You could take a look at our operations and then, perhaps, we could go out to lunch? Please come to the employee’s entrance and I’ll meet you there.”
“I trust, Watson, that this time will be agreeable to you, given your professional schedule,” asked Holmes of me.
“As I recall, I sadly have no appointments tomorrow, so I am at your gentlemen’s disposal,” I replied.
“Then on to the quiz!” declared Holmes. “May lady luck be with us tonight!”
Chapter VII: Criminal Intentions
The morning found Holmes and myself speeding north on Interstate 280, the ‘World’s Most Beautiful Freeway’. The normally temperamental Morgan was purring today.
Arriving at the employee’s entrance to the Linear Accelerator, we were approached
by Professor Wright and a uniformed security guard.
“Good morning gentlemen!” said Wright as he approached us. “This fellow needs to verify your security clearance before we can enter the lab.”
Holmes reached into his valise and brought out what looked like a passport and handed it to the security guard.
“Why, I’ve never seen a security clearance level 11,” exclaimed the guard. “How did...”
“Never mind the history, Michael,” interrupted Wright. “If his clearance is satisfactory, then we need to get going to the lab.”
“Certainly, certainly. I didn’t mean to pry,” said the security guard, who returned the pass to Holmes and stood aside.
“Come along, Watson,” said Holmes. “There’s some interesting work ahead of us, if I’m not mistaken.”
Wright, Holmes and I entered the building, moving down the silent corridor which was painted with the drab green of all official institutions. I say ‘silent’ but in the background was a deep throbbing as if some enormous dragon dwelt at the heart of the site.
“My office is just here,” said Wright, as we approached the end of the corridor. “Since I’m a senior fellow here, I qualify for a corner office,” he continued with a smile.
I was not sure what I expected to see upon entering Wright’s office, but the stereotype of an absent minded professor’s cluttered chaos was to prove false. True, there was an enormous wall of books, but all of them were tidily organized. Wright’s desk was completely clear except for a few papers that he had obviously been working on before our arrival.
“Your timing is outstanding, gentlemen,” said Wright as he walked towards a handsome credenza. “Just this morning, I completed a series of particle collisions that absolutely proves the existence of the Jigg-Figg particles. This hard drive,” he said, holding up a large plastic case which I took to be the hard drive he had described during our Jalisco lunch, “contains the results of today’s experiment. The culmination of five years work. It’s all here. Very hard to believe,” he said reverently, placing the drive on the credenza.
Holmes and I walked over and noted there were several hard drives on the credenza. Each drive had a plastic pouch attached to the top where a paper label could be inserted showing the date, I presume, the data was captured. The one that Wright held had today’s date on it: 23 March 1976.
“Tell me, Professor, are these media hard drives expensive?” asked Holmes.
Wright said, “Not particularly. Each one costs, maybe, $500 new, but they can be reused and written over again many times until the media wears out and they must be replaced. It’s very important to count our pennies when working against a budget,” he continued.
“When the hard drives go ‘missing’ as you said, what exactly happens,” questioned Holmes.
“As you can see, I try to be very organized. Each hard drive is stacked in date order, that way, if I need to review some previous data, I simply load the drive with the date I need. When I no longer need the data, it’s archived onto a tape unit and then the paper label is removed so I know I can write over that particular drive.
“When the drives go ‘missing’ as I said, it’s more that they are out of order, or one is on my desk or on the bookshelf. Not really ‘missing’ but rather misplaced,” said Wright with a bemused look. “I do try to be organized, but as you know, I am constantly misplacing things. My glasses, my pen, slide rule, etc. It’s maddening, but at least nothing is really lost--just misplaced.”
“Have there been more reports of progress by, shall we say, ‘competing’ labs with your research into the Jigg-Figg particles?” asked Holmes.
“Indeed. It’s most peculiar. There was a time when I thought I was the only researcher investigating this particular family of particles. Then, about six months ago, I got word that the Hangul lab had begun research on them. Their progress was astonishing--in six months, they have accomplished what I have done in the past four years,” said Wright.
“Who has access to this office?” asked Holmes.
“Pretty much anyone who has the proper clearance for the facility. Currently we have three senior fellows in residence: Professor Lee from the Taiwan Polytechnic, Professor Menach from the University of Haifa and Dr. Naimark, from the University of Frankfurt. All of them have access to this office. Oh, and my PhD student, Agnes Forth, had access as well. She was an honors student at Edinburgh University in Scotland and is helping me with my experiments.”
“I don’t mean to make accusations, Professor, but would any of your fellow scientists have an interest in your work?” asked Holmes.
“Yes, I thought of that, but the answer is ‘no’. Lee is concerned with the safe disposal of nuclear waste and has no interest in particle physics. Menach is a medical doctor and researching isotopes that can be used as tracers in medical research. Finally, Naimark is a metallurgist who is working on higher strength steels that can be used to reduce the weight of steels in manufactured goods like automobiles. No, none of them would be a candidate for stealing my work.”
As Wright was talking, Holmes had walked over to the office window and was gazing out the window. Deep in thought, he slowly stroked his chin. Silence reigned in the office.
A knock at the door interrupted the silence. A dark haired woman, approximately 30 years old, entered the room. She wore the habiliment of the current college student: clothing that had not been ironed and her hair was a disheveled mess that had not been combed in what seemed weeks. She stopped abruptly upon noticing our presence.
“Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt, Professor Wright. I didn’t know that you had company. I can come back later,” she said with a rush. “I heard the good news about the experiment this morning and I came as soon as I could.”
“It’s all right, Agnes. These gentlemen are from my Tuesday quiz team and I was showing them my office and my work,” said Wright kindly. “This is Doctor Watson, and this is...”
“Mr. Grey,” interrupted Holmes with alacrity. “The charming Professor Wright has been explaining some of the details of his work, which, frankly, I have understood very little. The Professor tells me that you are an alumni of the University of Edinburgh?” asked Holmes.
“Why, yes, I graduated two years ago and have been helping Professor Wright in his research,” said Agnes Forth hesitantly.
“Do you keep in touch with any of your professors from the University?” questioned Holmes. “I believe I met Dr. Mendelbaum at a social function in London this past Christmas.”
“Oh yes,” gushed Agnes Forth with relief. “Dr. Mendelbaum sent me a Christmas card in December and we correspond regularly.”
“Please give him my heartiest greeting when next you write him, will you?” said Holmes. “Laurence Grey is my name,” and Holmes, reaching into his coat jacket, produced a business card.
Taking the card, Agnes Forth read out loud, “‘Importers of Exotic Fruits’. My, what an interesting profession. How is the fruit business?” she asked.
“Growing leaps and bounds,” replied Holmes jovially.
“Well, I shall not interrupt you any further, gentlemen. I can stop by later and continue with the analysis of today’s data,” said Agnes Forth, as she turned and left the office.
“Professor Wright,” said Holmes, “would it be possible for us to have a short tour of your labs and then, maybe, go to luncheon?”
“Certainly,” said Wright, who was obviously puzzled by Holmes’s use of an alias when talking with Agnes Forth.
“If you gentlemen could give me a couple minutes alone in this office, I think we will take a significant step in solving Professor Wright’s mystery,” said Holmes. “Pray precede me.”
Professor Wright and I exchanged looks of astonishment at Holmes’s request, but our trust and faith in his judgement was sufficient that we did as he asked without question.
