Class Fives: Origins (15 page)

Dan looked at the men, extending his hand, which, to his surprise, they actually took in turn and shook, once, before releasing it. Their palms were mutually dry and cool.

“What questions?” he said, hoping he sounded casual and mildly interested.

“We’ve been talking to Jim here,” the Lieutenant continued, “And it appears he believes he was a little upset because of the accident. Let his mind run away with him for a minute. That about right, Jim?”

Before Jim could respond, the older agent, the one named White, cut in.

“Officer Belles’ preliminary report spoke about witnessing an individual assisting in getting some survivors out of the wreckage. The individual subsequently left the scene before his connection to it could be properly ascertained. He said that you pursued this individual but failed to restrain him. Is that correct?”

Dan was slightly jolted by the flat, dead tone in which the man spoke, and his mind found the choice of words awkward and full of something like a clumsy attempt to somehow come down to communicate on a lower level.

“That’s right,” he responded carefully. “Well, the part about my trying to pursue. He managed to slip away in a clog up not too far along from the site. I got hung up, he got away.”

“And his assistance with the rescue?” the younger one, Jones, asked.

“That,” Dan said, “I can’t tell you. At the time I was trying to keep that woman from running back into that mess to get her kids. But from what I could see, I think the guy was maybe one of the victims. Got thrown out of his vehicle, maybe. Maybe had a head trauma or something. All I saw was the guy run across the traffic lanes, hop into somebody’s car and take off. I went after him.”

“Why did you do that, Officer Sinski?” White asked.

Dan shrugged.

“I thought he was probably hurt. Traumatized. Needed some help.”

“He was able to control the vehicle properly, correct?” Jones added.

Dan nodded.

“As far as I could see, I guess.”

“So he did not appear to be in need of immediate medical attention,” White said.

“No, not that I could tell. But like I said, I was a little busy at the time.”

“The woman said in her statement that she had also witnessed the individual pick up her vehicle, carry it a distance of some fifty feet and place it down without displaying any effort. He then proceeded to remove the door quite effortlessly and extract her minor children.”

Dan felt a sour bile begin to scrape away in his gut.

“I don’t know,” he responded. “I didn’t take her statement.”

“But it would seem to corroborate what Officer Belles told other officers prior to his official written report. His preliminary findings were very much in line with the woman’s recollection of events.”

Dan felt a cold, warning feeling settle over him.

“Wait a minute. How did you guys get to see a preliminary report? We don’t even save those once we’ve done the full write up. And we don’t show them to anyone. They’re just our first impressions, so we don’t forget any details.”

“Our access is not the question here, Officer Sinski,” Jones said. “Suffice it to say that if the initial impressions of two non-connected witnesses, such as the woman and Officer Belles, contain the same major details, the likelihood that those impressions are essentially correct is quite high.”

Dan regarded them silently for a long moment, already aware that he was in the middle of a verbal minefield and any words he dropped now might blow up in his face.

“I don’t know anything about that,” he said carefully. “But I’d imagine if you picked two people out of the same audience who told you that they saw a magician pull a rabbit out of a hat, it wouldn’t necessarily mean the thing had been born in there.”

“Misinterpretation of observed events of a nature not normally encountered or easily processable by immediate experience,” White replied.

Dan slowly nodded.

“Something like that, yes.”

There was an awkward silence, which the Lieutenant was drawing in a breath to try and dispel, when Jones spoke.

“Thank you, Officer Sinski, for your cooperation. And yours, Officer Belles. I believe we have what we need.”

Even the Lieutenant appeared taken aback momentarily by such a preemptory dismissal but, perhaps deciding that this painless resolution was not a thing to be swatted at, merely sighed and nodded.

“Ok, thank you, guys. We’ll talk later.”

Dan finally got the chance to look over to where Jim was seated, his hands now clasped, fingers tightly laced before him, head inclined as if in concentration.

“Ok, Lieutenant,” Dan said, turning toward the door. “C’mon, Jim.”

He stepped out of the office and heard Jim close the door behind him.

He didn’t even look back as he moved through the squad room and stepped into the hall. He could feel Jim in his wake. It wasn’t until they had walked out of the side door into the large parking lot where the collection of police cruisers was stored that Jim finally spoke.

“We are so fucked,” he said, his tone tense.

“Relax,” Dan responded soothingly. “Let’s just get going.”

Within a minute they had arrived at their assigned vehicle and were settling inside it.

“So,” Dan said as he inserted the key into the ignition and fired up the engine, “What was that all about? And who were those guys?”

“Homeland Security,” Jim muttered morosely.

“What did they want?” Dan prodded.

Jim shook his head, looking down at his lap.

“I don’t know. But they were really interested in that accident. And about the guy.”

He finally looked up at Dan.

“Your pal, Roger.”

“But you didn’t put any of that in your preliminary report, right?”

“Of course I did,” Jim practically snapped. “But just in the notes. And those are only saved to my hard drive. They aren’t filed anywhere.”

“Did you erase them?”

Jim nodded sharply.

“Yes, right after I filed my final report. That’s standard procedure.”

“And you didn’t show them to anybody or make a copy or anything?”

“No, of course not. You think I’m stupid?”

Dan nodded, braking the cruiser to a stop at the entrance to the parking lot, then pulling into traffic.

“No, I know you’re not stupid. But somehow those guys seem to have gotten hold of those notes. And that bothers me.”

“How come?”

“Because physically, they shouldn’t be able to.”

They fell momentarily silent.

“So who do you think they are? Think they’re really Homeland Security?”

Dan shook his head.

“I don’t know. But I get the feeling we haven’t heard the last of them.”

Jim slumped back in the seat.

“Great. Fucking wonderful.”

Dan tossed a glance at his partner, wondering if he should broach what he had planned to bring to his attention, then decided to at least make it Jim’s choice.

“Listen, there’s something else. I maybe should have mentioned it before, but…”

“What else? What now?”

“The liquor store assault. Morales.”

“What about it.”

“That guy I questioned, Kleinschmidt, one of the plate numbers. He called me last night. At home.”

“What for? What did he want?”

Dan sighed.

“He told me he did it. But I think he was drunk.”

“Okay. So what?”

Dan looked over at where Jim was staring at him, puzzled.

“I’m gonna go question him now. But based on something he said, I’m gonna need your help.”

Jim continued to stare at him, his expression still uncomprehending.

“Okay, so?”

Dan pulled his lips tight.

“It might get… weird.”

“Weird how? What weird? Like that accident weird?”

“Maybe,” Dan responded, feeling the faint edge of a wince pass through him, then quickly added, “You don’t have to help. I’ll understand if you don’t want to. After what happened with Roger…”

Jim’s expression seemed to melt, the tension that had gripped it slowly sagging into a kind of resignation. He turned to look out through the windshield, not even seeing the world beyond the interior of the cruiser.

“What the fuck is happening?” he whispered. “What the fuck is going on?”

“I don’t know. But I’m going to try and find out. So, you going to help me?”

Jim slowly turned back to glare at him.

“What do you want me to do?”

Dan considered this for a moment, letting his mind flip through what John had told him the night before.

“I have an idea,” Dan said, wondering if he actually did.

“Marvin?”

He turned to the voice and saw the short, rotund little man waddling toward him. In spite of his advanced age he still exuded energy.

“Professor,” he answered and was a little surprised when Professor Maxwell Manstein waddled up with open arms and swept him into a tight hug.

“How good to see you, my boy,” he bellowed with a laugh, then released him and stood back to hold him by the arms and examine him.

“You look wonderful. I see the wilderness agrees with you,” Manstein said with a satisfied sigh. “Come! Let’s eat.”

In a few minutes they were seated inside the small, cozy restaurant and were staring at each other across a small table.

“So,” Manstein said, having finally settled into the well padded chair, “What did you want to see me about, Marvin?”

The abruptness of the question threw Marvin a moment, but he recalled how the old man had always loved to dive directly into the heart of any problem and wallow as deeply as he could.

“Well,” Marvin began, “I’ve been doing some additional work for the university. And some other parties.”

“Ah!” Manstein said, his brows shooting up, “The Defense Department, or Homeland Security?”

Marvin jolted slightly, casting a furtive glance around the small room.

“Professor – “ he sputtered, unsure of how to respond.

Manstein flapped a dismissive hand.

“I know, I know. The only people who provide the funding for additional work are either major corporations or the government. And since you are an astrophysicist, I doubt if anyone wants you to help develop a new flavor of toothpaste. See? I’m not such a doddering old man yet, am I?”

Manstein chuckled and Marvin returned a nervous smile.

“So,” Manstein continued, “What kind of a problem are you facing, hmm? Talk it out for me.”

That had been one of the Professor's favorite encouragements. He was a firm believer in challenge and discourse, not only because it helped force some reality on some of the more speculative ideas excited intelligent brains sometimes crackled with, but because they might spark in a listener an even further extension of a valid idea.

“Ok,” Marvin replied, leaning forward and organizing his thoughts.

“I’m working on Dark Matter.”

The surprise that seized Manstein’s face was swift and genuine.

“Dark Matter. That’s a little esoteric for you, isn’t it, my boy?”

“I know,” Marvin responded, nodding, “But it has to do with this… other thing I’m doing that I really can’t talk about. Anyway, I wanted to ask you if you ever heard of the sudden application of a force that dislodged some significant astral body from its orbit. But it didn’t leave behind any radiation, at all, so whatever caused it is totally imperceptible. By anything.”

Manstein stared across at the young man, his expression probing.

“And you think Dark Matter. Or Dark Energy?”

“I think maybe Dark Energy.”

Manstein seemed to ponder this a moment.

“Interesting,” he finally muttered.

“So do you know of any way it might be possible to detect it?”

“I’m afraid not, my boy,” Manstein said at last. “The only way would be to look for its effect, and theoretically it would be all-pervasive, having an equal impact everywhere, canceling out any specific event. If some of the theories are true, then we experience part of its impact as simple gravity. You might try looking for a location where the gravitational effect is different than everywhere else, but I’m afraid that’s as far as my thoughts take me. For the moment, at least.”

Marvin considered the words, but that was something he had already thought about and dismissed as completely impractical. How would one be able to detect perhaps microscopic variations in the normal gravitational field of a planet, that wouldn’t be accounted for through velocity or any of a hundred other anomalistic events? It would be like looking for a particular needle in a haystack of needles.

“There was a man,” Manstein said thoughtfully, “A long time ago, who was working on an idea like that. How to distinguish microscopic variations in radioactive emissions to look for patterns, systems. I don’t recall the name, but he was Russian, I believe. I didn’t have all that much interest in his work, I’m afraid. But the universe is so big, one can’t keep abreast of everything, can one?”

He chuckled, perhaps a bit wistfully.

Marvin was nodding, half wandering in his own thoughts.

“It’s a screwy problem. How to detect the undetectable.”

“Have you done any calculations? Looked for an exploitable constant?”

Marvin nodded, leaning back.

“Yes, but I can’t get the numbers to work. I get right to the gravitational impact and then it all stops dead.”

Manstein smiled.

“Welcome to the ultimate question. It’s the Unified Field Theory. Why gravity can never seem to play nicely with the other forces. And you’re not German enough to solve what Einstein himself couldn’t crack.”

“Yeah, but it would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

“What, and put all the other physicists out of work? Shame on you, dear boy.”

They shared a quiet laugh.

“Oh,” Manstein said suddenly, reaching to dig into his coat pocket, rummaging around for a moment, “I wanted to tell you, I recently attended a conference and this young man named Vernon Henry gave a quite unique lecture that I thought you might find interesting. I managed to get one of his cards.”

He shook his hand out of the flapping pocket and the fingers were closed around the small, slightly rumpled white card, which he passed over the table to his former student.