Sounds of Reidier walking over to Otto? and opening the Plexiglas cover over the activation button.
“Wait until I tell you,” Reidier says softly.
Sounds of Eve moving to stand behind Otto.
Sounds of Reidier walking over to Ecco and opening the other Plexiglas safety cover.
“Wait until I tell you,” Reidier instructs Ecco. “On ‘go,’ boys. Three, two, one, go.”
Reidier says something to himself, but interference seeps in and garbles the audio into guttural gibberish. “Ach itch er keen three-welts im inner stern-zoos-ham and halt, showallthework, incraftandsalmon . . . nd thoo niche meh inwartcrammin.”
That was it. The whole .mp3. I listened to it on repeat for the whole drive. It was a nice aural aid, but I didn’t get it.
Butler Hospital felt like a little campus right out of the ’50s: acres of woods, tidy paths connecting collections of gothic brick buildings that were themselves a throwback to nineteenth-century institutional architecture, directory signs along the road to point you toward the right department.
“Achitcherkeenthreeweltsiminnersternzooshamandhalt, showallthework, incraftandsalmon . . . ndthoonichemehinwartcramming.”
I followed the signs to the Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder Ward. It also happened to be the Inpatient Psychiatric Ward.
“Ach itch erkeen three welts im inner stern zoo sham and halt, show all the work, in craft and salmon . . . nd thoo niche meh in wart cramming.”
There was something about that garbled guttural gibberish. I sat in the Lexus, parked out in front of the OCD/Psychiatric asylum blasting gibberish on repeat, half expecting the men in white coats to come and collect me.
“Ach itch erkeen ‘as ze welts im innerstern zoosamandhalt, show all workincraft and salmon . . . nd thoo niche mere in Wharton cramin.”
It was garbled too uniformly. Static interference would be more random. This had a pattern to it. And there was something about the breaks.
“D’ach itch erkeen ‘as ze welts/ im innerstern zoosamandhalt,/ show all workincraft and salmon/ nd thoo niche mere in Wharton cramin.”
Once again the flip clock of insight fluttered into place. I unfurled my coat in the passenger seat, and the two Goethes tumbled out. I grabbed one and flipped to page 130 while the CD track repeated.
“Dach itch erkeen ‘as ze welts
im innerstern zoosamandhalt,
show all workincraft and salmon
nd thoo niche mere in Wharton cramin.”
Everything clicked into place. The interference wasn’t garbling the audio . . . it was German. I read along with one last play of the CD.
“Daß ich erkenne, was die Welt
Im Innersten zusammenhält,
Schau’ alle Wirkenskraft und Samen,
Und thu’ nicht mehr in Worten kramen.”
Reidier was quoting Goethe. That I may detect the inmost force which binds the world, and guides its course; its germs, productive powers explore, and rummage in empty words no more! Reidier knew what he was doing.
Neither incident, nor accident, but rather pure, unadulterated intent.
I turned the Lexus off, grabbed my coat off the seat and Dr. Rasmussen’s taped-together business card off the dash.
* * *
Curzwell waited for him toward the back, in front of a large window that almost covered the entire wall. Several of the panes were missing glass. Several others were darkened with decades of soot and dust. Curzwell smoked a cigarette. He turned toward Reidier’s approaching footsteps.
“Ah, bon.” Curzwell held up his hands, palms open perhaps as a gesture of peace or vague attempt at urging serenity. “Your wife and sons are home, no worse for the wear.”
Reidier stopped dead in his tracks. A moment later, anger twisted his features. “You!”
“No, no. Not I. You reached out to us for help. Why would we—?”
“Leverage.”
Curzwell nods. “No, quite the opposite, actually. Your family was collected by Homeland Security at JFK International Airport trying to board a flight for Nice Côte d’Azur International Airport. They were then transferred off-site to an official holding facility, one of many immigration tanks. Within a day, they were transferred again to another, less official, holding facility. That’s when we retrieved them.”
His words disappeared into the vastness of the space.
“At the unofficial holding facility?” Reidier asked.
“En route.”
“You’re telling me you confronted Homeland Security.”
“Beimini did. Yes. And, at the time we interceded, they were no longer in the custody of Homeland Security.”
“The Department?”
“In a manner of speaking. To be more specific, an unaffiliated taxi service.”
“Like your taxi service?”
Curzwell snorted. “No. Much less subtle, and much more formal, than ours.”
“How did you retrieve my family from them?”
“Force.” The word fell out of his mouth and onto the floor between them.
Reidier stared down at it.
“Please understand, your wife and children’s welfare were always our highest priority. Our envoys are highly skilled at this sort of thing.”
Reidier still stood where he was initially stopped in his tracks. Anger had given way to a measured curiosity tempered by contained paranoia. “And what happened to their envoys?”
“They’ve been reassigned.”
Reidier nodded, lost in his own calculations. Solutions, however, didn’t compute. Curzwell wrapped the truth in ambiguity. “Thank you.”124
“We are on the same side, Dr. Reidier.”
“Are we?”
“We’d like to think so.”
“Also you were hoping this would endear me to defect?”
“I won’t deny that in serving your interests, we were serving our own. That being said, you did reach out to us for help. As far as leverage, we merely leveled the field of play. No, that’s not right . . .”
“Leveled the playing field.”
“Oui. Exactement! Leveled the playing field. Beimini’s interest in you would be compromised by the Department holding human capital as leverage to compel you to work toward its ends. We upended their leverage and restored balance, neutrality, so that you’d be free to make up your own mind, sans duress. As I promised you in our first meeting, we want to be partners with you. While we do have our own agenda, we will never hide information from you. Or occlude our motivations. Or kidnap your loved ones as collateral for our goals.”
“Except of course when you’re holding on to information about my family’s abduction and implementing a potentially very dangerous rescue mission. You could have simply informed me the Department had them and let me proceed through official channels.”
Curzwell let the dust settle after the words disintegrated. “The danger was not from us. We took every precaution. Unfortunately, while our intelligence was of high quality, it was by no means hard rock.”
“Rock solid,” Reidier corrected.
“Mm. We had no way of knowing for sure the people we were intercepting were in fact your family until we had them. Therefore, it was decided to not present you with potentially false information about their possible, though not certain, jeopardy. Nor could we be sure that Mrs. Reidier was not simply acting on her own behalf.”
The insinuation landed like an undetonated missile. Beimini knew or at least had high-quality intelligence about their domestic strife. The warhead lodged inside Reidier ticked with explosive potential.
“Full disclosure,” Curzwell hurried forward in an attempt to diffuse the volatility. “I would let you know that we did make a . . . comment dites-vous?” Curzwell searched for the word in decrepit rafters above. “Pit stop. Yes? Back in New York City. It was easier to disappear there within ‘the numerical anonymity of roads and avenues.’ As Sartre said, ‘Le mal de New York.’”
Curzwell let his gaze drift
past Reidier, careful not to trip any wires. “Disappearing was not our only priority in the city.” Curzwell shook his head and sucked at his teeth, making a tsk-tsk sound. “I have relationships with several of the board members at Sloan Kettering. At Mrs. Reidier’s request, of course, we had a team of oncologists take a look at her. I was neither privy to the examination nor their findings. No one at Beimini was. It would not have been proper. Whatever was discovered is for you and your wife to discuss.”
Curzwell finished and waited for Reidier’s response.
Reidier removed his cell phone from the inside pocket of his sport coat. No calls. No texts.
“Eve hasn’t contacted me. So as far as I know your story is just that, a story.”
Curzwell smiled, unfazed. “That is good. That means she took my request to heart.”
“You requested my wife not contact me?”
“I did. I thought it best for us to have a chance to talk, in private, before the Department ‘hears’ whatever version of what happened you and Mrs. Reidier choose to present.”
The implication floated in the air with the dust particles, drifting upward in a band of sunlight.
“You think there are bugs.” Reidier asked without question.
“I suspect.”
“Your intelligence wasn’t hard rock.”
Curzwell smiled disarmingly at the way Reidier threw his words back in his face.
“We have not done a sweep of your house or anything of that sort, no. But the Department seems to have an affinity for nanosects.”
Curzwell exhaled a plume of smoke. It swirled into and out of view as it gyred through the sunbeam. The tendrils of smoke bled into the column of dust particles like cream into coffee.
“Nanosects?”
“Mic-Mites. Smart Dust. Nanobots. Microscopic microphones, cameras, heart monitors, radio transmitters, infrared heat sensors. They can coat an environment with them, especially an interior, and one would never even know it.”
“Huh.” Reidier gave no indication of his own discovery concerning gossipy ceiling fans, prying toasters, nor his walls literally having eyes and ears.
“I apologize for not alerting you. Again it would have been only conjecture. Which you might have interpreted as an attempt on my part to poison the well, so to speak.” As Curzwell lit another cigarette, he casually let out, “Also, I assumed that eventually you would catch on, maybe even catch a few.”
Reidier tried to read Curzwell’s flawless face. His features suggested age, without aging, like a well-preserved antique. They looked old, of course, clearly a relic from another era, nevertheless there was a certain well kemptness, a preservation of aesthetics against the sandstorms of time. Curzwell’s face revealed nothing but a long history of control and care.
“I have not caught any. Nor have I hunted for any,” Reidier equivocated, careful not to reveal anything.
Curzwell noticed his watch, slipped his fingers into his pocket, and pulled out a Ziploc bag full at least a dozen different vitamins. “But you have inoculated yourself against the infestation. Good, good. I’m glad I was not wrong about you.”
The flattery passed through Reidier unnoticed, like AM radio waves.
“Are you not concerned then that I might’ve inadvertently brought some listening lice with me? Here. To our clandestine meeting?”
Curzwell gave Reidier a knowing smile. “Not at all. Our exterminators have deloused you.”
The subtle pulse, the bass beat . . . some sort of low energy electromagnetic pulse tuned to nanosect frequencies.
From Curzwell’s other pocket, he took out a flask. In one practiced swig, he downed the entire cornucopia of pills and capsules. As he screwed the top of the flask back on, he shared, “Coconut water. What good is a regimen of vitamins and minerals without electrolytes?”
“The nicotine doesn’t help with that?” Reidier asked with a glib smile.
Curzwell rolled with it. “What is the point of extending your life, if you do not live it?”
“There’s a hole in your story,” Reidier said, moving past Curzwellian contradictions.
“If you like, I’d be happy to arrange a sweep of your house for you, although that might, how do they say, tip your hand.”
“Not about the nanosects. Although those fall into the same hole,” Reidier said. He walked away from Curzwell and gazed out a window at Route 10 and Providence beyond. “How do I know it’s not you who abducted my family, you who set up an elaborate ruse of a rescue, and you who blew the Smart Dust into my home in order to align yourself with me while implicating the Department?”
“And me who somehow inspired you to call me for help? Bon.” Curzwell puckers his lips in contemplation and then simply shrugs. “There is nothing I may say that would not collapse under that very same rhetorical assault. You are right, where my original economic offer did not bear fruit, I might now have been trying this emotional one. Je comprends. Perhaps then, it is washing?”
“A wash?”
“Oui. A wash. Whatever good I might have done is nullified by whatever bad I might have engineered. It is a wash. As I said before, all I set out to do was level the playing field. Of course I hope, in the end, you come work with us. For you, for your family. But it is for you to decide without any compulsory circumstances. A partnership cannot be held together with bondage.”
Reidier’s phone rang.
“That would be Pierce. By now he would have been alerted to your sterilization. The Department doesn’t like disappearing acts. Even yours.”
Reidier checked. It was Pierce.
“Answer it, don’t answer. Right now your cell signal appears to be located at the XRA Medical Imaging facility out on Route 6.”
It took Reidier a moment. “MRIs.”
“Among other high-powered electric and magnetic equipment you might be curious about for scanning. A place with plenty of medical and technical expertise to justify a visit from you. We wanted to provide you with a believable alibi should you want one. That being said, feel free to share with Pierce my and Beimini’s involvement. Or not. The choice is up to you. While he might have his suspicions, I believe all Pierce knows right now is that you have significant allies.”
Reidier silenced his phone and put it back in his pocket.
Curzwell smiled and nodded.
“Don’t interpret that as some sort of subtle alliance. I’m just buying myself time to make a more considered calculation,” Reidier said.
“Of course.” Curzwell stubbed out his cigarette. “Well, I’m sure you must be anxious to get back and see your family.”
Reidier stared out the window a moment longer, then finally turned back to Curzwell. “Assuming everything you have shared with me is the truth, I am still curious about one detail.”
Curzwell waited, a statue of patience.
“If you’re not monitoring me or my family, how then did you know Eve and the boys’ whereabouts?”
Curzwell nodded. The question came as no surprise to him. “We are indeed not spying on you. The Department is, how do you say, another story.”
“You’re watching the watchers.”
“If you like.”
“So then you haven’t needed to spy on me. You can just read their reports.”
“We keep abreast of the Department’s strategies and tactics. Within that, we do learn a bit about your progress. However, neither the Department nor we are able to connect all the dots of your work. There seems to be more than a bit of art to your science. Not to mention a fairly high Chinese wall encircling Schrödinger’s Box.” Curzwell laughed at his mashed metaphors.
Reidier did not join in. Rather he narrowed his eyes at Curzwell. “I’m not worried about either of you attempting to purloin my work.”
Curzwell’s laugh transformed into another conciliatory smile. “Your domestic doings do not concern us, except insofar as the Department’s exploitation of them. We are merely the antibodies attempting to counter the Departmental infecti
on.”
“Hence your knowledge of Eve’s whereabouts.”
Curzwell nodded, “Oui.”
“Well, thank you. This has been most informative.” As he headed toward the door, Reidier asked, “Would it be all right if your man took me up to Federal Hill on the way home? I’d like to pick up a pizza from Caserta’s for the fam.”
Reidier forced his nonchalance into a smile. He even bit the insides of his cheeks a little. It was the only way to keep a rein on the tremors inside trying to shake loose.
“Of course, Dr. Reidier,” Curzwell said, matching pace with him. “Au revoir, doctor.”
Curzwell held open the door for Reidier.
Reidier paused. “How much work has your company put into storage?”
Curzwell raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“For your Restoration program. Data storage.”
“Ah. Quite a bit actually. There are some interesting possibilities with Exabyte capacity in carbon-based memory, carbon nanotubes for nonvolatile memory. NRAM. If you’d like, I’ll send over some info and specs.”
Reidier grunts in acknowledgment and leaves.
The back of the cab was inundated with the delicious aroma of the large pepperoni and mushroom pizza sitting on the seat next to him. Reidier stared out the window as Atwells Avenue crawled by. He sank his hands deep into his pockets and took out his cell phone. He started to make a call and then stopped.
Reidier lowered the window a few inches and slid his cell phone through the opening. It bounced and spun after the cab, dancing with longing and inertia, finally shattering apart in the wake of the cab passing beneath the Pine Cone sculpture of abundance, dangling from the Atwells Avenue Arch.*
* * *
* Looks like I’m not the only one with an allergy to cell phones.
Butler’s waiting room was surprisingly nice. Open, loftlike feel, exposed brick, dark hardwood floors that must’ve been the original planks, designer leather chairs, and huge windows that look out onto the grounds and woods beyond. No magazines, no carpet, no fluorescent lights, no antiseptic smell. In fact, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were in the reading room of some tech start-up that renovated an old mill.
Here & There Page 49
