The Children's Corner
Chapter 19
The organization that shows up at dawn to rescue the homeless families that Jack discovered from the tunnels isn't listed anywhere as a 501c non-profit. In fact, the only way to find it listed at all would be to dig through the classified documents provided to the congressional intelligence committees to back up budget requests. But, even there, it's a footnote in small print. Likewise, the facility where the families are put up doesn't show up on any budget, except under miscellaneous. And the address doesn't officially exist. Still, it's safe, climate-controlled, and the food isn't bad.
The acoustic engineer Rick hired arrives precisely on time to meet with Rick and Kate while the twins are mercifully napping and Lily is at school. White-haired Lyle Trowbridge studies Kate's list and downloads Rick's recordings to his laptop. Then, after linking in a portable oscilloscope, he runs a careful analysis. Turning his laptop so Rick and Kate can see it, he points to his readout. "The sounds that bother your son are all in or have harmonics in the 2,000 to 5,000 Hertz range.
"That covers high-pitched sounds like fingernails on a blackboard or an electric drill. Most people cringe at those, but your son is in the tail of the curve. And unfortunately, so many sounds are in that category that you can't protect him from all of them. But I can recommend some equipment similar to what I brought today, so you can determine the frequency outputs of any tools and appliances you're planning to use. A white noise generator may also help for now. And I can advise you on soundproofing his room. Then, when he's older, he can wear noise-canceling earphones programmed to his needs. You'll also be able to purchase white-noise generating earpieces for him."
"How soon can we put all that in motion?" Rick presses.
"I've worked with a lot of families over the years. So I know how desperate parents are to help their little ones. I'll get my report to you A.S.A.P., with my recommendations for equipment and sound-proofing," Lyle promises. "And right now, I can suggest a white noise generator that you can pick up today. That may offer your son and you some immediate relief."
Rick enthusiastically extends his hand. "We really appreciate this, Mr. Trowbridge."
Lyle winks. "My report comes attached to my bill."
In Rick's office, Kate takes in the sound from their newly obtained white noise emitter. "I was afraid it would be annoying like the static on the TV or worse, the masking they use in court. But this is nice, like the wind or waves coming to shore."
"It is kind of soothing," Rick agrees, "but the question is what Jake will think – or scream. "The twins should be waking up any minute. So no time like the present." The boys are already awake when their parents walk softly into the boys' room. While Reese sucks his thumb, Jake stares at the twinkling stars suspended over his crib. Hesitantly, Rick flicks back an outlet cover and plugs in the machine. Jake's eyes stray from his stars for a moment, but no complaints blast from his lips. Reese continues his oral fascination.
Cautiously, Rick and Kate exchange thumbs up and check for wet diapers. "The real test," Rick remarks, "will come when the noise truck is under our windows. The trash pick-up is usually right around six a.m. If that thing can keep Jake from shattering our eardrums, we'll know Trowbridge was on target. Or we could find out sooner than that if I try to run the old vacuum cleaner."
Kate gazes down at her newly dry and blissfully silent son. "I can wait."
"You could take off that eyepatch for a while," Dana suggests when Alexis's hip sideswipes the corner of the table.
She shakes her head. "Gram said I should build up as much sensory memory as I can so my movements will be automatic when I do my thing at the daycare center. But I'll get rid of it and the sweaters before I heat up supper. I almost hit myself in the face with the door of the microwave earlier. And I don't want to break anything, at least not anything else. And I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"I broke your mug, the one with the caffeine molecule on it."
Dana shrugs. "I prefer my caffeine in my coffee anyway. But when can you stop making sensory memories?"
"We're doing our program during the afternoon at the end of the week. Both the older and younger kids will be at the center then. After that, all I'll have to worry about is playing Cleante, and I can do that in my sleep."
"You're already doing it in your sleep. Last night I thought you were insulting me until I realized you were doing a line about Tartuffe. For someone not into acting, you have it on your mind a lot."
"Only because I want to do a good job. I can't stand to do anything halfway."
Dana chuckles. "You don't have to tell me that. If Alexis Castle-Wygard decides to do something, it's done. It's one of the things I love about you."
Cautiously, Alexis perches on the arm of his chair. "What else do you love about me?"
"I'll show you after you get all those sweaters off."
The laboratory analyzing Jack's samples runs 24/7, holidays included. While the spectral outputs match nothing in the library of molecules, deciphering the structure isn't difficult. The result will go through channels to the DEA and on to local law enforcement with no fanfare. The various agencies will, however, receive advice on how to program chemical sniffers to detect it. The covert club also plans to release tips for employing chemical sniffers on miniature drones to readily track shipments.
"You did a good job pulling the Russian's teeth on this one," Azra offers as she and Jack clink glasses of Yarden. "The DEA and local police can bust their operations without any signs of intelligence intervention. But I did hear some chatter that two cops reported a suspect in MacIver's murder entering the Russian Consulate."
Jack rakes a hand through his hair. "Not Kate!"
"No, detectives Ryan and Esposito."
The slap of Jack's palm on the table cracks through the room. "Then it will get to Kate – and to Richard. Hell! It probably already has. Neither one of them can let loose of what goes on at the 12th Precinct. The last thing we need is to have them chasing a Russian drug syndicate. We need to convince them the case is tied up – with a red bow."
"How are you going to do that?" Azra asks.
"I haven't worked out the details yet," Jack confesses. "But a suspect doesn't need to be alive to close a case."
Rick's jaw clenches at the unwelcome if familiar early morning grinding of a sanitation truck. The soft white noise whoosh coming from the baby monitor assures him that it's on, but no protests erupt from Jake. Rolling over in bed, he locks eyes with Kate. "Do you think Jake's actually sleeping through this?"
She shoves away the covers. "Only one way to find out."
The wary parents pad cautiously into the nursery to find both of their sons sound asleep. Rick grabs Kate in a joyful hug before they tiptoe out again."You know, whatever Trowbridge's bill is, I'm going to pay double."
"Don't you think you should see how much he charged first?"
"At this moment, it could be the moon. I don't care."