Dante's Equation Part 54

"I feel bad also. But I think Kobinski's death was a kind of redemption for him, may he rest in peace."

"I hope so, Rabbi."

When they all had cups of steaming tea Jill looked around reluctantly. "I guess it's time to give you the bad news. If everyone is ready. We learned a lot about the wave technology when we were on Difa-Gor-Das," Jill said. "But the main thing we learned is that there really is a danger-the kind of danger, Aharon, that I think you were looking for based on what you found in the code. And there's still every possibility that if my research gets out, mine or Kobinski's, Earth could face a disaster. That's why we had to come back."

"I had a feeling," Aharon said with a sigh, "that this was not over yet."

"It's called a bounce event," Nate said. "It occurs when too much stress is put on the universal wave."

"The universal wave, the law of good and evil, the one-minus-one-they're all the same thing," Jill explained. "The one-minus-one is an integral part of the fabric of s.p.a.ce-time. Maybe some of you remember an a.n.a.logy Einstein made about gravity. He said s.p.a.ce-time is like a rubber sheet and the planets are like bowling b.a.l.l.s placed on the sheet. Their weight bends the rubber sheet and that's how s.p.a.ce-time is bent by gravity. A black hole is a place where gravity is so heavy it punches a hole in s.p.a.ce-time."

"Yes, I know," Aharon said from experience.

Jill gave a brief smile. "That happens to protect the integrity of s.p.a.ce-time, because it can only stand so much gravitational pressure. The same thing is true of stress put on the universal wave."

"So that's what would happen?" Aharon asked, paling. "Someone might build a machine and tear a hole in s.p.a.ce-time?"

Jill nodded. "In a way, yes. If you push the universal wave too far from its natural state it will cause a black holelike effect. The area that is out of sync with the natural laws ends upbouncing through s.p.a.ce-time into the fifth dimension."

"It's similar to what happened to us," Nate said. "But in this case instead of an individual bouncing into the fifth dimension, an entire section of the planet'ssurface is bounced."

"Unfortunately," Jill added, "the result is a lot more violent than when we went through the gateway. It's . . . well, it's apocalyptic. And then there's the question of where the bounced section could end up. Depending on the exact state of the stressed wave when the bounce occurs, it could end up in any number of universes, some of them hostile to human life. For example, somewhere where there isn't any oxygen or light. In that case, even if people survived the bounce, they'd die anyway."

Aharon was getting more red-faced by the minute as he looked from her to Nate and back again. "And this could happen? What? To an entirecity ?"

"Um . . . " Nate looked at Jill. "It could be an area smaller than a city-or it could be much larger."

"How much larger?"

Jill bit her lips nervously. "It's impossible to predict. It's so dangerous because there's an effect that happens when you start messing with the universal wave, a kind of echo chamber effect. The wave is so interwoven with everything . . . changes can escalate exponentially within milliseconds, and that is when a bounce is likely to occur. In theory the bounced section could be small or it could be vast. As large as a continent, even. Maybe even bigger than that."

Around the circle everyone was quiet.

"But would anyone be so stupid?" Aharon asked suddenly. "We had nuclear technology for sixty years and we managed not to blow ourselves up. Surely our scientists wouldn't be so dumb."

"Wedid use the atomic bomb," Jill reminded him. "It wasn't until we saw what it could do that we learned to respect the technology. With the wave we may never survive early experimentation. And the thing is, going through a bounce event-well, it happened to the ancestors of the people on Difa-Gor-Das, and I have a feeling there's a good chance of it happening to most cultures that discover the one-minus-one."

"So let's undiscover it," Denton said.

"Yes," Hannah agreed. She sat up, as if collecting herself together. "I have family. I'm sure you all have family. So? What needs to be done?"

"I have to believe . . ." Aharon shook his head thoughtfully. "Maybe G.o.d does not interfere as much as I once thought. But I have to believe there was a purpose to my finding the Kobinski codes-to what all of us have been through. We've been permitted to see the danger. There must be something we can do to prevent it."

"We have no choice but to try by any and all means," Nate agreed.

"Absolutely. That's why we're here." Jill didn't say it, but she felt apersonal sense of responsibility. The looming catastrophe was, in a very real way,her fault .

They talked strategy for a while, but exhaustion did them in. Jill yawned, hugely, and it rippled around the room.

"Anyone else ready for some sleep?" Denton was barely able to keep his eyes open.

"Good idea," Nate said, stretching. "I don't think I can stay awake much longer."

"What about him?" Aharon said. "The one in the other room. We should keep watch."

"I'll do it," Hannah said. "After all,I only came in from Israel and that was several days ago." "Hannahleh," Aharon murmured worriedly. "She is the most bright-eyed," Denton remarked. "Can you operate the gun?" Jill asked. "Or maybe we can lock him in." "Lock, yes," Aharon said. "Gun, no. And if you hear any noise from inside the room you scream, loudly."

They all tiptoed out to check Farris. His was a small room under the eaves. The only lock operated

from the room interior, so they dragged an armoire out of Hannah's room and down the hall. It completely blocked Farris's door. "There," Aharon said. "Now no one needs to stay up." "Don't be silly!" Hannah said in a motherly tone. "What if he gets sick in the night? We can't just leave him in there alone."

"Hannah's right," Jill yawned. "We don't want to kill the man. If he wakes up and needs help, get us up." "Of course." Hannah nodded. *** Hannah wasn't tired. Her mind was so overrun by thoughts and ideas that she'd probably never sleep again. Who would believe a word that was said tonight? No one, that's who, and Israelis, even ones who used to be New Yorkers, were not known to be gullible. Except that her own husband, Aharon Handalman, a man who did not lie and did not kid, was right in the middle of it.

There was a sound behind the door. Hannah had taken a chair into the hall so she could sit near Farris's door. There was something going on in there. She leaned into the armoire and listened. There was muttering, as though the man was talking in his sleep, and some whimpering.

"Water."

The word, m.u.f.fled through the door, was low but distinguishable. The man sounded half-asleep. She held her breath, listening.

"Water."

Hadn't they even put a pitcher with some water and a gla.s.s in there? She couldn't remember. Or maybe he was so sick he couldn't find the gla.s.s. Maybe he would go back to sleep.

"Please,"came a low groan.

Hannah drew back from the door and stiffened her spine. She marched down the hall to her own room. From the scant light coming in the window she could make out Aharon's face on the pillow- drawn and troubled. He looked so thin! So white, so exhausted!

She reached out a hand to wake him, but the wife in her couldn't do it, not after all he'd been through. Hesitant, she turned to the man on the pallet on the floor. Denton Wyle was also deeply asleep, lying on his back, arms wide over his head, snoring lightly. Could she wake up a stranger? A strange man in the middle of the night?

She sighed and went back down the hall to the room where Nate and Jill were sleeping. They weren't married, she didn't think, but they were obviously a couple. They had left their door open a little, too, and when she heard nothing she peeked inside. They were so cute together-spooned on the bed, deeply asleep. They were so heavily asleep, in fact, that they looked like they might sink right through the bed-a strange impression.

No, she couldn't bring herself to wake any of them.

She went back to the armoire-blocked door and could hear moaning now, low and pained. Well, for goodness' sake, what if the man was dying? If he was dying, she ought to wake the others. Yes, okay, but what if hewasn't dying?

Hannah had nursed sick children through the night plenty of times. You got up, you gave them a drink of water, you listened to their sleepy terrors, soothed their foreheads, maybe gave them some baby aspirin, and that was it. They were back asleep.

She could always scream.

Making up her mind, Hannah went to fetch some aspirin and a gla.s.s of water. She placed these on the floor in the hallway and, as quietly as she could, pushed the armoire inch by inch out of the way. When the door was unblocked enough to enter, she paused, aspirin and gla.s.s in hand, to listen. She heard another low moan inside the room. She opened the door.

The door swung slowly open. In the light from the hall Pol saw a woman, a dark-haired woman, walk quietly toward the bed. Earlier he had positioned his pillow under the blanket so it would look occupied. Now he made himself wait behind the door until she put down the gla.s.s. Then he jumped her.

His hand came over her mouth before she could so much as gasp. She struggled mightily for such a small thing. He clamped his muscles hard around her and dragged her from the room.

He had a plan. It was dangerous. He was outnumbered. But he was not afraid of these people; they were weak. His plan was simple. He was going to escape and take the blond woman with him.

He dragged the dark-haired woman down the hall. He would like to find his gun, too, but unless it was easily spotted there would be no time to search for it. He managed to keep his captive's feet off the ground and mostly her kicks and blows landed silently on his person. His hand blocked his mouth, but she was making sounds in her throat.

The woman he wanted was not in the room he'd spied on earlier, but in a different room down the hall, away from the stairs and freedom. She was lying on a bed, entwined with the boy, asleep.

Something about the scene, that she should have ease and the warmth of another, angered him. He worked his way around the bed and the dark-haired woman's feet connected with the edge of it, making a bang. But it was too late. In one movement he released the dark-haired woman and pulled the warm, sleeping weight of the blonde against his chest. She was too groggy to even struggle. He put one arm around her throat, tight, and the other he wove through her arms and behind her back.

She gasped in a deep breath of pain, fully awake.

"Don't fight or I'll kill you." His arm tightened around her throat to show her how it would be done.

"Denton! Aharon!" The boy was up from the bed, calling for backup. He scrambled under the mattress, and Pol knew he was going for the gun. Good. That meant Pol wouldn't have to waste time looking for it.

He backed toward the door. The boy held the gun on him.His gun. The gun of a Silver monitor, detective cla.s.s. But the woman was between Pol and the gun. The man with the hair on his face came running from down the hall and the dark-haired woman collapsed into his arms.

"Aharon, it's my fault! I heard him ask for water and I thought, instead of waking you-"

"Hush, Hannah. It's all right."

Three of them. There should be four. Where was the fourth? Calder was still several feet from the doorway to the hall-the exit and his escape. The man and woman blocked it. The boy held the gun on him, but from the look on his face Pol knew he wouldn't use it.

"Move," Pol told the couple in the doorway, motioning his head to indicate they should join the boy.

They obeyed. The man said, "So let her go and let's talk, for heaven sake. No one wants to hurt you."

Pol backed toward the door. He looked over his shoulder. The doorway was empty.Where was the other man?

"Let her go," the dark-haired boy ordered. He raised the gun, pointing toward Pol's head. Pol smiled. He would never risk it.

"Nate,"the older man warned, "look, if we wanted to hurt you we would have left you to freeze in the woods. Talk to us."

Pol took a step back, dragging the blonde with him, and now he was in the doorway. He meant to say,Where's the other man? He meant to say,Give me the gun or I'll kill her.But when the sentences tried to go from his brain to his esophagus, they dissolved into nonsense. That scared him.

The pulse in his arm throbbed against the woman's throat. There was a tangled knot growing in his stomach. He was constantly shocked at how incapacitated he was, kept going to use various functions and found them disabled. He had thought he could do this. He had thought it would be easy. But suddenly he was very confused.

The woman began to make a low, choking sound. Pol heard it, but it didn't completely register. He just needed to take a few more steps, to back into the hallway, and then he would have a shot at the stairs. He pulled her backward.

The dark-haired boy was saying something, his face ugly and panicked. Pol felt his grip on the situation faltering. Why did he look like that? What was wrong?

He made himself go faster, took two steps, backing down the hall. He took a quick look over his shoulder; the way to the stairs looked clear. When he turned his head back around, the three from the room had come into the hall after him, and they were only steps away from him, their faces upset, yelling.

And finally he heard the woman making strangling sounds.Scarp. His arm had tightened around her throat. He was choking her.

He loosened his grip just as something struck his kidneys from behind. He registered his mistake- the fourth man-even as he doubled over in pain, releasing the woman. He clutched her shirt, then she was gone. His outstretched hands crashed into the floor.

He scrambled to one side, a cry of pain coming from his mouth. The fourth man-the tall blonde- was standing over him holding a broomstick over his head. Pol crawled for the stairs on his knees, hands over his head, prepared for another blow.

The fourth man did not strike again. He lowered the broomstick, his eyes a mix of anger and pity. Pol reached the stairs and paused at the top of them. His eyes moved to the boy-he could fire now. In a minute, the gun would go off and he would be dead.

But the boy didn't fire. He held the gun on Pol, awkwardly. The blond woman was at the boy's side, urging him in a low voice. Pol could no longer decipher the words. He slowly reached back with one knee, finding the first step.

"Don't go," the blond woman said. He understood the words. She took a step toward him, rubbing her throat. Her voice was raw.

He backed down the step, then another. All he really wanted was the woman, but he no longer thought he could take her. If he couldn't take her he would go all the same.

He paused, preparing to turn and run for it. He was braced to move should anyone so much as twitch, but they didn't; they just watched. And he thought; he thought very hard. He struggled, his brain aching with the effort, as if he were pulling up memories cell by cell. He had to ask. He wasn't going to be able to take her, and he couldn't leave without asking just this one thing. He focused on her, only her, willing her to tell him.

"Who. Am. I?"

Her face looked so sad. It made him angry.

"Your name is Lieutenant Calder Farris."

He tried to read her face, to see if she was lying. She had said that name before, but it meant nothing to him. He shook his head.

She nodded, as if acknowledging that it wasn't enough. "You work for the United States government in the Department of Defense in Washington, D.C. You investigate new weapons technology."

He braced his hands on the steps, the words bouncing around his brain like a rubber ball.Farris. Department of Defense. Weapons.

He turned and fled down the stairs.

Jill paced for a few minutes in the hallway, her shirt torn, her face still darkened from the pressure Farris had exerted on her neck. She faced the silent group.

"I have to go after him."

"No," Nate said. He raked a hand through his hair. "No way. Huh-uh."

She almost smiled. It was so unlike Nate to try to tell her what to do. "I know it's not logical. But . . . I don't know. My intuition says we can convince Farris."

"Is this the same Farris who almost choked you to death a few minutes ago?" Nate asked sarcastically. He huffed out a breath. "Jesus, Jill, if that's your intuition, I'd say it's a bit rusty." Jill looked at the others for support. "Farris was in charge of the investigation in Seattle. He's the only one who knows what the DoD has or doesn't have. Obviously he's been traumatized, but I think he can be reached."

"Traumatized?" Nate huffed. "He's bonkers, Jill. That man isdangerous ."

"I don't think he meant to hurt me," she said doubtfully.

She looked at the others, waiting for a response. Like it or not, they were all in this together.

"Nate's right," Aharon said with something of his old hubris. "The man is dangerous. What if

something should happen to you?" Denton shrugged. "Personally, I think you should follow your gut." Jill looked at Hannah. Aharon's wife appeared shocked that she would be asked for her opinion. She hesitated. "I think . . .

I think he's more lost than dangerous. He needs help." Nate groaned. "I'll need my coat," Jill said, knowing she had no time. Hannah ran to grab it as Nate came up to her and took her hands."Jill." His dark eyes were anguished. "Trust me," she said, touching his cheek. "I'll be back. I love you." He rolled his eyes and took out his wallet. The thing had traveled to another universe and back again in the pocket of his jeans. He took out a credit card and handed it to her. "Thanks, sweetie." Aharon handed her a hundred-dollar bill. "Here. Take it." "I've got zip," Denton said regretfully, turning out his pockets. "I'm counting on all of you," she said. She gave Nate one brief kiss and left before she could change her mind.

"The intrinsic, extramundane process ofTikkun , symbolically described as the birth of G.o.d's personality, corresponds to the process of mundane history. The historical process and its innermost soul, the religious act of the Jew, prepare the way for the final rest.i.tution of all the scattered and exiled lights and sparks. . . . Every act of man is related to this final task which G.o.d has set for his creatures."

-Gershom Scholem, Major Trends in Jewish Mysticism, 1946 By morning, Hannah's rented car was parked across from a hotel in Auschwitz. Denton's and Nate's knees were crushed in the backseat and Nate felt like h.e.l.l. He still had the semidazed wonderment of someone contemplating the pain of a knife in the back.