Read Ship of the Damned Online
Authors: James F. David
Ship of the Damned (11 page)
T
hey spent a day with Dr. Birnbaum talking to police, neighbors, and two psychics whom Birnbaum had tested in the years before his accident, but turned up no clues to Ralph’s whereabouts. The Columbus Police Department was investigating but had no leads. The local news carried pictures of Ralph, generating many calls of concern from the seemingly hundreds of people Ralph had introduced himself to, but no concrete leads. It was clear that the authorities in Columbus were doing everything possible to find Ralph, so the next day Wes and Elizabeth flew to Chicago to meet with a trustee of the Kellum Foundation, promising Dr. Birnbaum that they would stay in touch.
hey spent a day with Dr. Birnbaum talking to police, neighbors, and two psychics whom Birnbaum had tested in the years before his accident, but turned up no clues to Ralph’s whereabouts. The Columbus Police Department was investigating but had no leads. The local news carried pictures of Ralph, generating many calls of concern from the seemingly hundreds of people Ralph had introduced himself to, but no concrete leads. It was clear that the authorities in Columbus were doing everything possible to find Ralph, so the next day Wes and Elizabeth flew to Chicago to meet with a trustee of the Kellum Foundation, promising Dr. Birnbaum that they would stay in touch.
Robert Daly was sixty, but looked fifty—the fifty of someone who could afford a personal trainer and cosmetic surgery. He was fit, handsome, tan, and looked prosperous in his tailored suit. Assured of his own financial future and that of his children, Daly now spent his days determining which supplicants would get handouts from the deep pockets of the Kellum Foundation. Wes had expected to meet with a staff member, not one of the trustees, and now found he was nervous. If money was power, and to a researcher it was, then this man had the power to make or break Wes.
“Dr. Martin, Ms. Foxworth, it’s wonderful to finally meet you both face to face,” Daly said, smiling. His teeth were white, even, and probably caps.
They shook hands and exchanged greetings, then Daly led them into his office.
Wes sat on a leather couch, with Elizabeth next to him. Daly sat in a matching chair, his legs crossed, looking like a CEO. One side of his office was arranged like a living room with a couch and armchairs, end tables, lamps, and a coffee table. A large desk and office furniture occupied the other half of the office. Most of the office was leather and mahogany, but the desk was a simple glass surface held up by four large, strangely twisted, ornate brass legs. It was the ugliest desk Wes had ever seen, but he had no intention of mentioning it.
Elizabeth got right to the point of their visit.
“Have you been told why we’re here?”
“Yes. Is there any news about Ralph?”
“No,” Elizabeth said. “No one saw anything, no one heard anything. The police have no leads to follow.”
“That’s why we’re here,” Wes said.
“How can we help you?”
Wes thought Daly’s reactions appeared genuine; his tone expressed concern. But Wes could tell by Elizabeth’s crossed legs, folded arms, and furrowed brow that she didn’t find Daly convincing.
“The couple claiming to be FBI agents knew about my previous work,” Wes said, “and they claimed to have heard about Ralph from someone in the foundation.”
“But you’ve published your results, and there was quite a bit in the news—with the deaths and injuries. Surely, that’s where they got their information.”
“They had details that could only have come from my reports to the foundation.”
Daly looked disturbed, uncrossing his legs, then recrossing them. Finally, he said, “Perhaps one of your assistants spoke of your research.”
“I trust my people one hundred percent,” Wes said.
“And I have equal confidence in my people,” Daly said.
They were at an impasse.
“Wes works only with a handful of people, Mr. Daly. The foundation must employ a hundred.”
“Two hundred and twenty-seven, actually,” Daly said in crisp syllables.
“The chance of a leak goes up exponentially with the number who know,” Elizabeth suggested.
“Only a fraction have access to the records,” Daly said. “We’re security conscious here. As you know, we fund cutting-edge science and maintain close relationships with our researchers. Leaking results would harm that special relationship and open them, and us, to exploitation.”
The foundation funded “fringe science,” or what mainstream scientists called “pseudoscience.” Wes suspected that much of the research ended with null results. Wes’s success had made him the wonder boy of the foundation.
“I know my assurances won’t satisfy you,” Daly said, then waved his hand in dismissal when Wes started to protest. “I wouldn’t be satisfied if I were you. I’ve never met Ralph, but I read your reports and he sounds like a very special man. Here’s what I will do. First, I will have our security office begin an investigation to see if we can find a leak. Second, I’m prepared to commit the foundation to helping get Ralph back. Would a reward help?”
“Yes, I suppose it would,” Wes said.
“Let’s start with fifty thousand dollars,” Daly said. “If that doesn’t turn up a lead in a week or so, we’ll double it.”
“Thank you,” Wes said.
Daly looked at his watch.
“I’m afraid I have another appointment,” he said.
He walked them to the door, shaking their hands and ushering them out.
“Don’t worry, if it’s humanly possible, we will find Ralph,” Daly assured them.
Then they were out the door and walking to the elevator.
“I don’t trust him,” Elizabeth said.
“He promised to investigate,” Wes told her.
“The foundation is going to investigate itself,” Elizabeth said. “That’s like having the police investigate the police.”
“If he’s trying to cover up something, then why offer the reward?” Wes asked.
The elevator doors opened, and they stepped in. There was one other man inside who got out at the next floor. When the doors closed again, Elizabeth picked up where she had left off.
“Fifty thousand dollars is nothing to the Kellum people. Especially if you know you’ll never have to pay it.”
“What do you mean?” Wes asked.
“Maybe he knows where Ralph is, and maybe he knows Ralph is never coming back.”
The doors opened and they were in the lobby, passing through security and then out into the hot Chicago sun. They walked to the parking lot in silence, Wes worrying about where Ralph was and what was happening to him.
R
obert Daly dropped two ice cubes into a tumbler, then added lemon-ade-flavored Snapple. Taking the drink to his chair, he turned to face the window behind his desk and looked out at the Chicago skyline. He sipped the lemonade, then swirled the ice cubes in the tumbler as he used to do when his drink was bourbon. He missed drinking, especially at times like these. Booze relieved stress—at least temporarily.
obert Daly dropped two ice cubes into a tumbler, then added lemon-ade-flavored Snapple. Taking the drink to his chair, he turned to face the window behind his desk and looked out at the Chicago skyline. He sipped the lemonade, then swirled the ice cubes in the tumbler as he used to do when his drink was bourbon. He missed drinking, especially at times like these. Booze relieved stress—at least temporarily.
He hadn’t been completely truthful with Dr. Martin and Elizabeth Foxworth. He didn’t know anything about what had happened to Ralph, or how the kidnappers had found out details about Dr. Martin’s research, but there might be a leak at Kellum. There had been other incidents, and the trustees suspected that an intelligence agency had penetrated the foundation. In turn, they had their own moles in the intelligence community, thus maintaining a balance of power. Daly was convinced that they gained more than they had lost in the spy game.
The Kellum Foundation was named after its founder, Dr. Walter Kellum, who had earned his fortune as a pioneer in radio and television technology. When Dr. Kellum was declared dead after World War II, his fortune was sufficient for a small foundation; the revenue stream had increased exponentially in lockstep with the television industry. Now the Kellum
Foundation was ranked as the fifth largest foundation in the United States, but in fact its pockets were the deepest of any private foundation in the world. With resources hidden in a dozen nations, the foundation operated much like the intelligence community, with a public budget open to scrutiny and a black bag budget used to fund projects the trustees euphemistically labelled “controversial.” Daly knew that most of the black bag projects wouldn’t pass the scrutiny of university ethics committees, and certainly would be lightning rods for the media and social activists. Some were clearly illegal. However, the black bag projects were often the most promising, and Daly and the other trustees wouldn’t let archaic laws and outdated sensibilities keep them from their goal.
Foundation was ranked as the fifth largest foundation in the United States, but in fact its pockets were the deepest of any private foundation in the world. With resources hidden in a dozen nations, the foundation operated much like the intelligence community, with a public budget open to scrutiny and a black bag budget used to fund projects the trustees euphemistically labelled “controversial.” Daly knew that most of the black bag projects wouldn’t pass the scrutiny of university ethics committees, and certainly would be lightning rods for the media and social activists. Some were clearly illegal. However, the black bag projects were often the most promising, and Daly and the other trustees wouldn’t let archaic laws and outdated sensibilities keep them from their goal.
Like its budget, the foundation’s charter had both a public and a private component. The public charter reflected Dr. Walter Kellum’s lifelong commitment to modernism—the belief that through science and the scientific method, the human condition could be steadily improved. Consistent with that public mission, the foundation funded basic research, primarily in the natural sciences, but occasionally in soft-science psychology projects like Dr. Martin’s mind-linking experiments. Daly had seen the early potential in Dr. Martin’s work, and the success of his project had been beyond the foundation’s expectations.
Dr. Kellum had written the foundation’s charter during the Second World War, and because he knew of the horrors of the Nazi extermination camps, he had also written a shadow charter, not to be seen by the public. According to the secret charter, the trustees were to find ways to protect mankind from itself before its nihilistic tendencies led it to self-destruct. A Darwinian evolutionist, Dr. Kellum had set aside his fortune to be used to stave off human extinction and promote human evolution in the hope that an improved human being would emerge. To Dr. Kellum, humanity was like a child, needing the protection of a parent. The foundation existed to fill that paternal role.
While the mission to promote human evolution would be seen by most as benign, there were passages in the shadow charter that could be misinterpreted. These passages argued that the general social good might occasionally require the sacrifice of society’s members. Some would argue that Dr. Kellum’s paternalistic views were much like those of the architects of the Holocaust, but Daly believed that there was a critical difference between them and that the difference justified the foundation’s actions.
With an original board of trustees named in Dr. Kellum’s will, and careful selection of subsequent trustees, the foundation had stayed true to its mission through the Korean conflict, the Cold War, the Cuban Missile Crisis,
the Vietnam War, the social revolution of the sixties, the economic crises of the seventies, and the collapse of the communist world in the eighties and nineties. Each crisis served to validate the mission of the Kellum Foundation and reinforce the trustees’ support of covert activities that prevented any of the crises from developing into worldwide conflict.
the Vietnam War, the social revolution of the sixties, the economic crises of the seventies, and the collapse of the communist world in the eighties and nineties. Each crisis served to validate the mission of the Kellum Foundation and reinforce the trustees’ support of covert activities that prevented any of the crises from developing into worldwide conflict.
Through the years it became clear to the trustees that fulfilling their goal meant more than simply funding research, since development and application of technology required stable social structures and a receptive culture. Shortly after its founding, the Kellum Foundation had begun funding political campaigns, as well as subversive political movements that the trustees judged likely to produce the kind of social stability they desired. Donations, bribes, and loans usually accomplished their goals, but on occasion assassination had been necessary. Committed to promoting the general welfare, the foundation had not balked.
Swirling the ice in his drink, Daly considered the implications of Ralph’s kidnapping. The fact someone had penetrated deep enough into the foundation to access Dr. Martin’s work was worrisome, particularly so because of the timing. Daly had just initiated a project that was dependent on Dr. Martin and his mind-melding technology, and Dr. Martin had been making good progress with the dreamers. While Daly could see no immediate connection between the project and Ralph’s kidnapping, the coincidence was troubling, and he wasn’t a man to leave anything to chance. After another sip of lemonade, Daly picked up his phone and punched a single number, then asked his secretary to find the Chief of Security.
W
hen they returned to Eugene, Elizabeth had a dozen messages, three from Anita’s mother. Elizabeth called her first.
hen they returned to Eugene, Elizabeth had a dozen messages, three from Anita’s mother. Elizabeth called her first.
“She’s worse, Elizabeth. I’m afraid … she’s confused a lot, and she’s hallucinating. She hardly eats enough to stay alive and she’s stick thin. I took her back to the doctor, but he just prescribed vitamins and more sedatives. They don’t stop her from dreaming.”
“The same dream?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes,” Anita’s mother said.
Then she was silent, sniffling. Elizabeth pictured tears streaming down her face.
“Can you help her? Can Doctor Martin do something?”
“We’ll try.”
Now Anita’s mother cried openly, sobbing thank-yous into the phone. Elizabeth let her pour her emotions into her gratitude before promising that she would call as soon as possible. Elizabeth was still worried about Ralph, and worrying about Anita again, too, only added to her emotional burdens.
She found Wes in his lab, scrolling through program code. She stood in the doorway watching him. The lines of code flew past, and she wondered
if he was actually reading them or just mesmerized by the pattern, his mind somewhere else. Abruptly he stopped the scroll, used the mouse to highlight a line, then typed in changes—he was reading the code, even at that speed. Did his focus mean he wasn’t worried about Ralph? She knew him well enough to know that he was good at burying his emotions. He turned at her knock and asked about Ralph immediately.
if he was actually reading them or just mesmerized by the pattern, his mind somewhere else. Abruptly he stopped the scroll, used the mouse to highlight a line, then typed in changes—he was reading the code, even at that speed. Did his focus mean he wasn’t worried about Ralph? She knew him well enough to know that he was good at burying his emotions. He turned at her knock and asked about Ralph immediately.
“I’ve heard nothing,” Elizabeth said.
Wes looked disappointed, despite his claims not to like Ralph.
“Anita’s declining, Wes. She’s disoriented and hallucinating. She has to have a normal night’s sleep and dream again.”
“Maybe after they find Ralph.”
“There’s nothing we can do to help find Ralph,” Elizabeth said. “But we might save Anita.”
Wes frowned, again staring at his screen. The lines of code were stationary now. When he spoke he didn’t look up from the screen.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said about each of the dreamers getting bits and pieces of the same dream. When we integrated you with Anita, she said that the dream had more detail. Maybe Anita is a receiver picking up a transmission from somewhere.”
“Like our theory that some schizophrenics are actually picking up thought transmissions.”
“Exactly. When you were added, we improved Anita as a receiver. Since you don’t dream the ship dream, we can assume you are a poor receiver, but even your presence improved Anita’s reception. It stands to reason that if we brought together the other ship dreamers and integrated them to make one receiver, we might dramatically improve reception.”
“Put me in the dream again, Wes.”
Wes winced at the thought of risking her life again. Elizabeth felt his hesitation and hurried to reassure him.
“Anita needs me to be with her, and I want to look in that mirror again.”
Wes nodded, reluctantly agreeing.
Thinking of the faint reflections she had seen, Elizabeth wondered what she might see this time. They had been calling the nightly walk on the ship a dream, but she wondered if it wasn’t really a nightmare they were about to bring into focus.
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