“Yes,” she said holding it up guiltily, “but I just wanted to take a break from deciphering the physics and try to get a better feel for who he was and what he thought. I get a stronger connection to him holding the original proof instead of a copy.”
The book was a confusing mix of mysticism and a memoir of MacGuffin’s experience in China in the 1920s and 1930s. MacGuffin’s Chinese contacts had provided him with some ancient documents. He’d translated them to yield some seemingly “mystical” prose that turned out to describe Maxwell’s Equations. The MacGuffin manuscript included the suppressed ideas from Heaviside that got me into trouble in the first place, and used them as a springboard into even more fundamental physics. I made a good start translating them, and lately Marlena had been picking up where I left off. “Making any progress?”
“No,” she acknowledged. “I’ve been reading MacGuffin’s account of his time in Buenos Aires. His last few months he spent compiling his notes and manuscript in the library, and relaxing in cafés with friends. After all the stress and turmoil he faced in China, it must have been like a vacation for him. I’m glad he got to enjoy his last few months before…”
…before he returned to the U.S. in 1940 to be brutally slaughtered by the Civic Circle’s agents. Knowing how MacGuffin’s personal story ended made bittersweet the obvious pleasure he’d found in the Buenos Aires chapter of his life.
“He got to be good friends with Ettore Majorana,” I pointed out. The brilliant Italian physicist had fled the Civic Circle’s attempts to recruit him in Italy and vanished, re-emerging under the name “Mr. Bini” in Buenos Aires to build a new life with the assistance of the Albertians – the secret order within the Dominicans that aids and protects scientists.
“The man who called himself ‘Mr. Bini.’ You’ve convinced me he was really Majorana. It’s MacGuffin’s other friend I’m curious about,” Marlena explained, “Jorge.”
I had a vague memory of the name from when I read through MacGuffin’s manuscript last year. “That writer MacGuffin ran across in the Argentine National Library whose apartment he visited for dinner?”
“You remember him after all,” Marlena smiled. “You recall what he had to say about MacGuffin’s book?”
“That the book was without beginning and without end because there always seemed to be more pages added to it?”
“Exactly,” Marlena nodded. “MacGuffin said Jorge had a real gift for understanding the more esoteric concepts from the Chinese scrolls. The three of them – MacGuffin, Majorana, and Jorge spent hours talking in their favorite café, having dinner in Jorge’s fourth floor apartment. Maybe Jorge wrote something about the experience.”
“Wasn’t Jorge working in the library? That doesn’t sound as though he had any kind of a success as a writer. Any writer who’s any good at all can make a living off his work, right? And anything Jorge wrote would probably be in Spanish. Our priority should be to find where MacGuffin hid his source material – the original scrolls and the Nexus Detector.”
Marlena looked skeptical. “I still have trouble buying the concept of a device that can detect a Nexus – a time and place where reality itself begins to… to fork into different paths.”
“Weren’t you telling me about the ‘Many-Worlds’ interpretation? The quantum-mechanical concept that if I flip a coin, there’s a universe in which it came up heads, and a universe that came up tails? Two universes where once there was one?”
“By its nature, that’s a completely untestable hypothesis,” Marlena pointed out, “and at any given moment every atom interacts with its neighbors in various quantum mechanical ways – many universes springing into being for every atom, for every sub-atomic particle in every minute instant. Holy Occam’s Razor – talk about hyper-complexity! That’s why my attitude toward quantum mechanics has always been to ignore the philosophy and get on with the physics – to ‘shut up and calculate.’”
“We have MacGuffin’s account of how this Nexus Detector worked in Chinese history,” I insisted, “and we know today the Civic Circle has been using one to track down and eliminate their enemies who might divert the course of history from the Civic Circle’s preferred path.”
“Whatever MacGuffin may have done with his Nexus Detector and his scrolls, that was in 1940. Unless they were carefully preserved, the Georgia humidity has probably taken a toll on the scrolls. How can we possibly track down this ‘thorny friend’ MacGuffin entrusted everything to sixty-five years ago? At least Jorge was a writer. There’s a chance he wrote something about his experience. I think Jorge is a lead worth checking out,” Marlena insisted.
After the initial elation of escaping the Civic Circle’s attempt on her life, she’d been stressed and depressed at the growing reality of cutting ties to her past life and living in hiding. Her passion for hunting down Jorge was the first genuine enthusiasm I’ve seen in her in a few days.
“Will do,” I humored her. It’d be a null result, but it wouldn’t take long to run that one to ground.
She flashed one of those brilliant smiles that just melted me inside. I had a crush on her from the first time I saw her in class. I kept wishing that the obvious passion she had for physics might someday be directed toward me. We found ourselves on opposite sides in the social justice protests at Georgia Tech. Amit and I infiltrated the social justice movement, and I had to maintain appearances. One magical evening, we’d forgotten about the politics and protests and simply worked together to unravel some of the physics in MacGuffin’s work. I thought we’d really made a deep personal connection, but the apparent political divide was too much for her.
Then, I’d learned the Civic Circle was on their way to eliminate her and Professor Chen. Rob insisted Amit and I bug out back to Tennessee. I’d defied him, saving both professors, with some help from Rob and Sheriff Gunn at the end. Why did I do it? Because the Civic Circle killed too many people – my parents, people who’d helped me in my research and paid for it with their lives, scientists whose passion to push the boundaries made them a threat to the Civic Circle’s control. Because I’d had enough. Because I couldn’t live with myself if I let the Civic Circle kill yet again, even if it cost me my life. And because I was in love with her.
Marlena had cut her ties with her former life. Sure, it looked as though we might be able to retrieve her cat, and maybe we’d be able to let her mom know she was alright, but in hiding. All her friends and professional acquaintances, all her belongings, all her work and her career, she’d had to leave behind. She’d been grateful for what I’d done, and friendly enough to me in the few days since she’d arrived in Uncle Rob’s hidden refuge, but there was still a wall between us. She was still reeling from the dislocations in her life. I wanted to tell her how I felt, but at the same time, I thought I needed to give her space to adjust, to come to terms with her new life. I’d been waiting for just the right moment to let her know how I felt about her. It never came. Now I was about to leave for my meeting with the Red Flower Tong in Atlanta and to start my summer job in Huntsville.
“Marlena,” I began, reaching out and holding her hand. She glanced down and then back up at me, but did not pull her hand back. “I need to tell you something, to let you know where I stand.”
“I know, Peter.” She smiled gently and pulled her hand back. “This is all so strange for me: discovering a whole new layer to reality, finding a hidden war taking place for control over science and society with you and me right in the middle of it. I don’t know yet exactly what my place… or your place will be in this new grand design.”
I moved closer to her, but then there was a knock on the door.
Amit let himself in. Again.
My moment was lost. I turned toward Amit. “That was quick.”
“What can I say? I’m a natural,” Amit explained. “Breezed right through it.” He looked at the two of us. “Interrupting something, am I?”
“No,” I lied.
Rob came in just behind him. “I still don’t
like you going to visit the Tong solo. Professor Chen may be a friend of sorts…”
“I know,” I interrupted him, “but the Red Flower Tong is dangerous, probably criminally so. All the more reason we not expose anyone else to harm. I have a relationship with them, already. I need to be the one to talk with them. If you came with me it would give them a link to you, to your place here, and to everything else we’re trying to do.”
Rob didn’t like it. He looked like he’d swallowed a bad batch of his own moonshine. With my father dead, he’d stepped in to fill the void. Now, though, I’d defied him to rescue Marlena and Professor Chen, after he insisted I leave them and run home. He was having to adjust to dealing with me as an equal instead of as a subordinate. I needed to be conciliatory.
“I don’t like having to do it, either, but the job is mine, and I’m the one who has to do it.” I could see that hit home. Rob was big on accepting responsibility, sucking it up, and doing your duty. “I’ll use the burner phone to let you know when I’m done, and I’ll be heading on to Huntsville to start work Monday morning.”
Rob paused as if he were about to say something. Then, he just nodded. “You have a long day ahead of you. Best get going.”
“Take care of him for me,” Marlena smiled, “will you, Amit?”
“Keeping Pete out of trouble is a full-time job, Marlena, but you know me. I’m always, always up for it,” Amit insisted.
I’m certain the double entendre was entirely intentional.
I turned Amit back toward the door. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 2: Into the Dragon’s Den
“‘Take care of him for me?’” Amit hopped back into the truck after closing the gate to Rob’s place. “Did you make it with her, after all?”
“A gentleman never tells,” I replied.
“That would be a ‘no,’ then,” Amit seemed amused.
Amit could really get on my nerves sometimes. He’d landed a kind of Golden Ticket to the Civic Circle’s Social Justice Leadership Forum – an internship within the Civic Circle itself. Of course, he’d get invited to their Social Justice Leadership Forum. Amit was now one of their up-and-coming social-justice leaders. Me? I’d been rejected for that opportunity, but I was still going to the meeting thanks to an alternate plan. Uncle Larry greased the skids to get me into TAGS as the personal assistant to his cousin, Travis Tolliver, who ran the company in Huntsville, Alabama. That was my ticket to the Social Justice Leadership Forum.
Larry had been working for years to get Tolliver Corporation into those “leadership” circles, so he, Travis and other Tolliver executives were among the invitees. In fact, TAGS was providing the IT support for the meeting.
I got the feeling Larry didn’t entirely trust Travis and wanted me to spy on the Huntsville operation. That was fine by me, so long as I could infiltrate the Social Justice Leadership Forum and help disrupt their scheme to fool the country into a pointless Middle East war. Uncle Larry was my source for that information and my main conduit to the Civic Circle and their plans. I needed to stay as close to him as possible, and if Larry was willing to pay me to be his spy within TAGS and the Civic Circle, that was fine by me.
I still wasn’t sure why Amit wanted me to drive him to Atlanta. I was only heading to Atlanta for my meeting with the Tong en route to my summer job in Huntsville. Amit asked me to drop him off at a hotel near the airport, to catch a flight up to Washington, D.C., first thing the next morning to start his internship with the Civic Circle. He could just as easily have caught a flight from Knoxville instead of spending half the day driving to Atlanta with me. His motives became clear only when we arrived in Atlanta just after lunchtime with several hours before my scheduled dinner with the Tong.
“Take I-285 east,” Amit said with a hint of pleasure at my confusion. “Exit here,” he added a few minutes later. I directed my truck south on Georgia 400.
“Take this exit to Lenox Square Mall,” he directed mysteriously. “I have something to return before I go.”
Amit pulled a shopping bag from his suitcase. “Three hundred fifty dollars of perfume is amazingly compact,” he observed.
“You were serious about hitting on girls at perfume counters?” I hadn’t really believed the stories he told me.
“Watch and learn, my friend. Watch and learn. You need to identify that perfume the Albertian babe was wearing,” Amit pointed out, “the one you dubbed ‘Perky Girl.’ We need to be able to identify her again so we can reach out to the Ordo Alberti. They had you blindfolded the whole time, so the only way you’ll be able to tell if you meet them again…”
“…is if I recognize the perfume,” I completed Amit’s thought. “Surely the Albertians will have someone on Jekyll Island to keep an eye on the Civic Circle. We might get lucky.”
“Exactly,” Amit confirmed. “Plus everything went down so fast at the end of the semester that I never did get a chance to finish this particular exploit. I need a wingman to run interference on her supervisor, anyway. Follow my lead.”
Exploit? Wondering exactly what I’d gotten myself into, I followed him into the big department store and down the escalator to the perfume counter.
“Hi, Heather,” Amit caught the attention of the girl behind the counter. “I have some bad news for you.”
“Ah, yes, it’s… Amit,” she replied with a bright smile. “What’s the problem?”
“I had to call it off with Alexa,” Amit replied sadly. “She wanted to cancel her trip to Venice for the Victoria’s Secret lingerie shoot. She was insisting on moving in with me in Washington, D.C.”
“Really?” Heather asked. “That sounds like she was really into you.”
“Yeah,” Amit acknowledged, shaking his head, “but a lot of those model types are real prima donnas – flighty, temperamental, looking for an anchor, you know?”
I could see Heather nodding her head in agreement.
“Can you believe anyone would pick a summer in Washington over a summer in Venice? Walking along the canals, eating gelato on a hot summer day, weekend excursions to the Alps. Some of my best memories…” Amit said wistfully. “Would you really pick Washington over that?”
“I haven’t been either place,” Heather replied, “but it sounds wonderful.”
“She was just too pushy, trying to get too serious, too soon,” Amit said in sorrow. “Wanting to move in together, talking about baby names for goodness sake…. It’s just too fast, too soon. We’re too young to settle down. This is the time of life when we experiment, we take chances, don’t you think? I mean, you’re not getting married anytime soon, are you? You and your boyfriend – you’re not engaged are you?”
“No,” she said, seemingly amused by all Amit’s banter, or maybe she was just being polite.
“I thought so,” Amit smiled at her. “A fellow free spirit. Anyway,” he said, placing the bag on the counter, “the romantic send-off I’d planned for her just isn’t happening now, and I’m going to have to return these.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Heather replied. I figured she probably worked on commission. Did they deduct returns from her paycheck? Not the kind of thing Amit would be concerned about.
“Yeah, and I just wanted to give her a little something to remember me by,” Amit said sadly.
A $350 “little something?” I saw Heather checking the returns against his receipt. The other lady, an older matron who must have been in her forties, started moving toward us to help Heather.
“Now’s your turn,” Amit said softly to me. “Go to the other end of the counter and ask the old dragon about the Albertian girl’s perfume.”
I moved to intercept her. “Excuse me, ma’am.” I saw her nametag, “Dee, can you help me?”
“One moment please, sir,” she brushed me off as she continued to help Heather process the return. I figured helping Heather ward off Amit’s advances was probably on Dee’s agenda as well.
“Thank you so much for all your help, Heather,” I could hear Amit at
the other end of the counter. Looked like they’d finished up.
“Ma’am?” I caught Dee’s attention. She disengaged and came over to me. Amit was not through with Heather, however. He faked out Dee by doubling back. I could hear Amit and Heather talking, but I had to focus on Dee and my own questions now. “I’m trying to identify the perfume a friend of mine was wearing. Can you help me?”
“That blouse really looks slimming,” Amit was saying to Heather down at the other end of the counter. Was that what he called a neg? A backhanded compliment intended to puncture a girl’s ego? I mean, Heather didn’t look like she needed to worry about trying to look more slender. Her ratios approached geometric perfection. I could see why Amit had singled her out for this elaborate pick-up attempt.
I couldn’t pay more attention to Amit and Heather just then, because the Dragon Lady was asking me questions.
“How did it smell? Musky? Floral? Citrusy?”
“I don’t know if I can describe it,” I admitted.
She reached under the counter for some samples.
“I just love how you don’t really care what people think of how you look,” Amit was telling Heather.
“This one?” Dee asked me.
“No.”
“How about this one?”
“Closer, but no.”
Finally, the fourth sample reminded me a bit of what Perky Girl had been wearing.
“All I can say is that sure is memorable,” Amit was saying as I began my next round of samples.
“Like that one,” I told Dee, “only not as… as…”
“Musky?” she asked, looking sternly down the counter at Heather and probably wishing she could save her young charge from Amit’s predations.
“I suppose so.”
She pulled out several more samples.
“What time do you get off?” Amit was asking Heather. “I still have the reservations I made for dinner, if you don’t mind being a last-minute substitution.
The Brave and the Bold Page 3
