Miracle Man

by William R. Leibowitz

  While only at the end of page two, Bobby looked up, his face flushed and his eyes glassy. “Could you please come back later after I’ve had some time?” he said to the doctors.

  “Of course, Dr. Austin. Take all the time you need.”

  Bobby noticed the glances the physicians cast each other as they exited the room and he could hear their animated conversation begin as soon as they cleared the doorway. Christina opened volume three which contained many of Bobby’s equations and formulas. She held the book in front of him.

  “Do you have any idea what any of this is?”

  He looked at the page and then looked away. His eyes grew teary. Christina squeezed his hand. “It’s alright Bobby.”

  88

  In the ensuing weeks at the hospital, Bobby regained his physical strength. Tests regarding his intellect were administered by a parade of renown specialists—neurologists, psychologists, educators, hypnotists, amnesia experts—even Dr. Uhlman was summoned from retirement.

  When Uhlman walked into Bobby’s hospital room, he paused just inside the door. Bobby looked over at the old man, his head still shaved, but not as neatly as it had been years before, nor was it as shiny as Bobby remembered. The oversized hands were now wrinkled and marked by numerous liver spots, and the once powerfully built scientist with military erect posture, was thin and bent over, supporting himself with a cane.

  “You must hate me,” said Uhlman as he approached Bobby. “When you needed me the most, I wasn’t there for you.”

  Bobby didn’t respond. Uhlman felt like he was being skewered by Bobby’s eyes as he slowly made his way over to Bobby’s chair. He extended his hand, but it wasn’t accepted. Just as he was drawing it back awkwardly, Bobby grasped it.

  “I could never hate you. I was hurt, but I knew you were caught in circumstances beyond your control. It’s good to see you Doctor. It’s been a very long time.”

  A smile appeared on Uhlman’s face as he slowly lowered himself into a chair next to Bobby, placed his hand on Bobby’s knee and patted it. “You validated my life’s work, Robert. How do I thank you for that?”

  Uhlman leaned over toward Bobby. “They’ve asked me to tell you what you probably already know.”

  Bobby’s eyes instantly teared up, but he forced a smile. “It was always just a matter of ‘when.’ I was lucky I kept it as long as I did.”

  Uhlman raised his eyebrows. “Lucky? Were you really?”

  Bobby stared vacantly at the wall.

  Uhlman continued, “I wish I had been a better friend to you, Robert. There was no acceptable excuse for my behavior, but after awhile, I was too embarrassed to contact you.”

  Uhlman didn’t know if Bobby had even heard what he’d said. After a few minutes of silence, he leaned against his cane as he began the arduous process of standing up. His first attempt wasn’t successful and he noisily flopped back into the chair. That sound seemed to snap Bobby out of it. He put his arm under the old man’s shoulder and gently lifted him up.

  “You did enough, doctor. You found Joe for me.”

  Eyes glassy, Uhlman bent forward and whispered into Bobby’s ear, “I failed you in more ways than you know. I’m sorry.” He squeezed Bobby’s hand as hard as he could and made his way to the door.

  89

  While Christina followed the government’s prosecutions, Bobby wasn’t interested. Key testimony and leads from Martin Turnbull, Vincent Amaratto, Neil Foster, Randall Lindsay, Graham Waters, and Michael Petersen resulted in Colum McAlister’s conviction on thirty-one violations of securities, economic espionage, extortion, blackmail, and money laundering laws. He was sentenced to nineteen years in federal prison, but there was insufficient evidence to bring him to trial for conspiracy to commit murder. Gunther Ramirez went unidentified and uncharged.

  The FBI’s success in infiltrating RASI resulted in the convictions of five RASI members including Kurt Osmond and Ashfaq Bashir on charges of attempted murder for the apartment explosion, and conspiracy to commit murder for the planned attack on the lab. They were acquitted of attempted murder relating to the lab attack, as the jury found that there was insufficient evidence to prove that the attack ever got beyond the planning stage.

  But Bobby had no doubt about the source of the lab’s destruction. He told Christina and Susan, but they discouraged him from sharing his view with others. Nevertheless, Bobby wrote the following letter to Varneys:

  Dear Director Varneys,

  I know you have your own theories as to what happened in my lab that night, but I would be remiss if I didn’t share my thoughts with you.

  As you know, I was fortunate for many years to possess a special intelligence. Or should I say, it possessed me. Through it, I came to understand certain fundamental truths that perhaps are uncomfortable.

  You see, Orin (I guess it’s time I called you that) —-there is a force of negativity and destruction in the universe. Highly efficient and infinitely resourceful, it empowers and leads. It gives diseases their resiliency, their tenacity, their propensity to reinvent themselves, resist treatments, regenerate and defensively mutate. It propels them. This force is not a neutral physical phenomenon. It’s an evil —an active and pervasive evil. Are you surprised by this? Don’t be. There is balance in the universe. That is the immutable law that governs what otherwise would be chaos. Everything has its reciprocal, its opposite. Do you believe in God? I do. Well, you can’t have just that.

  Throughout my life, I felt this force oppose me. It sought to disorient and distract me and undermine my health—physically and mentally. And then the day finally came as I always knew it would. I had cracked the code and it didn’t want to lose that. AIDS is one of its greatest achievements you know.

  I understand it will be hard for you to get your mind around this. You’re a man of action. You like to make files and close files, put the bad guys away. But the universe plays its own game. We can only do so much.

  Sincerely yours, Robert

  Feeling that he could make one last contribution, Bobby asked Susan to arrange for Uniserve to disseminate an online media statement, with accompanying links to the newspaper coverage that told the “Dumpster Baby” story. Within less than a day, this story became a viral sensation and proliferated throughout the world media, as did the short quote from Bobby which accompanied the press release, “Human life is never expendable. The implications of its loss cannot be predicted no matter how humble its origins or unlikely its promise.”

  The revelation that a child possessed of such unprecedented gifts had his provenance in circumstances so appalling started an avalanche of speculation in religious circles. Many began to view Bobby as a spiritual rather than a scientific phenomenon.

  90

  It had been almost two years since Christina and Susan had last seen Varneys. When they walked into his massive office at Langley, they didn’t notice a frail looking Dr. Uhlman slumped in a corner of the large sofa. Varneys introduced them to the aged scientist and then executed the obligatory small talk.

  “So how’s Robert doing?”

  “Fine,” said Christina. “He’s relaxed. He and Susan are running Uniserve. He spends plenty of time every day with the baby. We’re like a normal family now.”

  Varneys smiled. “And how’s the little one?”

  Christina’s face lit up. “Getting bigger every day. He’s beautiful. He reminds me of Bobby in so many ways.”

  “It’s those eyes of his,” Susan said, beaming. “The clearest light blue you ever saw. They go right through you, like little lasers. Even more so than Bobby’s.”

  “A chip off the old block intelligence wise?” Varneys asked.

  “I knew it wouldn’t take you long to get to that,” said Christina. “Is that was this meeting is about?”

  Varneys stopped smiling and cleared his thr
oat. “Not at all. Here, make yourself comfortable on the sofa.”

  Varneys pulled one of the guest chairs over to the coffee table, plunked himself down and leaned in toward them. “We—I mean Dr. Uhlman and I —thought it would be in Robert’s best interests if we had a discussion.”

  Uhlman spoke up, his weak voice straining to project. “It’s for Robert’s good.”

  Varneys continued, “I’m doing this on condition that what you hear in this room remains between us. Do I have your agreement on that?”

  Susan and Christina nodded.

  “I don’t think that either of you have a full understanding of Robert’s history,” Varneys said.

  “He’s told us a lot about his upbringing if that’s what you mean,” replied Susan.

  Varneys dismissed Susan’s comment with an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

  Uhlman looked up and mumbled, “That’s not what he’s talking about.”

  Varneys nodded to Uhlman, signaling that he should proceed.

  Uhlman scratched an eyebrow, then pulled on his ear lobe. “I first met Robert when he was four and a half. At the time, I was chief of Psycho-Neurological Development at the Mayo Clinic, a position I held for many years. Director Varneys was then head of the OSSIS—the Office of Special Strategic Intelligence Services. I was asked to examine the boy. He came to the attention of the state and ultimately federal authorities when his foster parents sought medical help with certain problems he was having. It wasn’t long after I completed my examination that Robert began to live full time at the Institute for Advanced Intelligence Studies in Newton, and he was under my supervision until he left at age 20.”

  Varneys interrupted. “To the Doctor’s credit, he correctly diagnosed Robert from the beginning.”

  “Based on what his foster parents told me and my examination, it was apparent to me that starting at age three, Robert was exhibiting the early stages of psychosis marked by strong paranoia and reality detachment—-all very unusual for a child of that age. It’s always hard to predict how these conditions develop or regress in children because changes in body chemistry caused by puberty and aging can have a big effect. I was hoping that as Robert got older, he would improve but unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. I also believe that his problems were exacerbated by a succession of catastrophic events.”

  “Did you try to help him?” Christina asked softly, her eyes watery.

  Uhlman’s face reddened and he looked down at the floor.

  “We monitored him constantly,” Varneys said. “The Institute had a full-time psychiatrist.”

  Uhlman nodded. “Verjee. Doctor Riaz Verjee.”

  “Did Verjee treat him?” asked Susan.

  Varneys shook his head. “At the time, we didn’t think it prudent.”

  Uhlman continued. “Early on, we recognized that Robert was at his intellectual peak when he would detach from the present. In his semi-conscious dissociative state—what you call ‘trances’, he was at his highest level of creative thinking and problem solving.”

  “And you didn’t want to interfere with that by treating him, did you? Because it was useful to your program,” Susan said.

  Varneys spoke up. “It’s not that simple. You have to understand that we had no experience dealing with a mind at Robert’s level. No one did. We didn’t want to dull him down with medications that were designed for ordinary people, or subject him to analysis that might backfire. We were dealing with a unique situation.”

  Uhlman’s voice turned professorial. “I believe that a series of events accelerated the progression of Robert’s illness—the sudden death of his parents, soon followed by Joseph Manzini’s death and then shortly thereafter, Robert’s learning the horrible details of his abandonment at birth.” Uhlman cast a glance over to Varneys. “And then, immediately after that last trauma, Robert was required to leave the Institute. In retrospect, we know that this was a serious mistake. It heightened his isolation and paranoia. For all intents and purposes, he had no friends or family for years—until, of course, he met the two of you. So he lived solely in his own head— a dangerous place to be. His feelings of abandonment, rejection and betrayal were intensified by certain sensitivities— what we in the psychiatric field call ‘over-excitability factors.’ They’re proportional to one’s intelligence. In Robert’s case, his intellect being so extraordinary, this heightened sensitivity was particularly acute.”

  Slouching in the sofa, Christina’s eyes were closed as she shook her head slowly and murmured, “And he worked too hard. He put so much pressure on himself. It was just too much.”

  Uhlman nodded eagerly. “Yes. Exactly right. Adding to all of the other problems was the constant stress which he imposed on himself with his obsessive compulsive work ethic. But that, of course, was also a symptom of his illness.”

  “And as the years went by—neither of you did anything?” Christina asked.

  “Not true,” said Varneys. “As soon as I was in a position to—when I became Director of the CIA, Robert became a priority for me. I did everything I could to protect him.”

  Christina glared at Varneys. “But you didn’t do anything to help him. You just wanted to keep him working, just like you did at the Institute. Just to maximize his output. That’s all you cared about,” said Christina.

  Varneys’ face turned red. “It was more than that.”

  “I’ll bet,” muttered Susan.

  Uhlman continued, “The final destabilizing events were Robert’s apartment being destroyed, and you, Christina, revealing your entanglement with the CIA. As Robert’s disconnection from reality became more frequent and prolonged, his personality became increasingly dissociative. This is what was happening when I came to see him a few years ago at Prides Crossing and he had reached the point that he couldn’t recognize anyone or even acknowledge their presence.” Uhlman looked directly at Christina. “It was a miracle that you were able to bring him back and keep him on track for as long as you did.”

  The four of them sat in silence, none making eye contact, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally Varneys walked over to his desk and picked up an envelope that was inside a thick file folder. He opened the envelope and passed its contents over to Christina. “This is a letter I received from Robert.”

  Christina read it and then gave it to Susan.

  After Susan put the letter down on the coffee table, Varneys said, “It’s an unusual letter don’t you think?”

  Christina shook her head. “It’s nothing new. Bobby often said there was some kind of force that was trying to stop him from curing diseases. He told us his view of how the lab was destroyed, but I didn’t know he sent you a letter about it.”

  Susan jumped in. “Yeah—years ago –soon after we moved to the Prides Crossing lab—that’s the first time he told me there was some ‘supreme evil’—that’s what he called it—that was interfering with his research and out to get him.”

  Varneys began to pace alongside his wall of windows, his steps as measured and precise as always. After awhile, he said, “You know, I was never satisfied with what came out of the prosecutions. When I got Robert’s letter, it started me thinking. I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I began to re-read all of the trial testimony and investigative reports. Things weren’t adding up for me. And then I decided to do something that nobody else had done.” Varneys looked over at Uhlman.

  “What was that?” Christina asked.

  “I ordered up copies of the surveillance tapes on the Prides Crossing lab. And I studied them. It took me months.”

  “But the tapes had been examined before, hadn’t they?” asked Susan.

  “Yes, but not going back three years prior to the explosion. And the investigators were only looking for one thing.”

  “What was that?” Christina asked.

 
“Intruders, co-workers, service providers. That kind of thing,” replied Varneys.

  Uhlman was pulling on his unevenly shaved chin with one hand, while the other tightly gripped the head of his cane.

  Varneys picked up a remote control that was sitting on the coffee table. “I made a compilation of the relevant portions of the surveillance footage. Doctor—please walk us through the tapes.”

  As the footage played, Uhlman said, “Notice how Robert appears to be moving more slowly than normal, almost robotically. Director—please zoom in closely on his eyes.”

  Varneys manned the remote.

  Uhlman continued, “You see how vacant he looks. His eyes are dead. Look at the expression on his face—there is none. He’s in that semi-conscious state. He’s functioning methodically but he’s not in the present. When he returns to normal consciousness, he’ll have no recollection of what he’s done.”

  “Oh my God,” Christina said as they witnessed Bobby working on the explosive devices.

  “On and off, for over two years, late at night, in the confines of his locked office, he assembled the bombs. Of course, no one checked what he brought into the lab and needless to say, he was extremely adept at designing and building them,” said Varneys. “And here—in this section of the video— you can see in the last year, how he sabotaged his own computers, wiping hard drives clean and destroying back-up memory.”