Some notes:

Maryton, New Jersey is a fictional place.

Regarding the seismic events of December 26, 2004 –no disrespect for the situation or for the dead is intended.


Chapter Three

Dr. Larry Fleinhardt looked at the data in his hand and gave his young colleague a concerned look. "Are you sure about this? I mean, it's awfully soon to be delving into something like this."

Charlie knew his friend would have a hard time understanding. He stood up from his desk and the faxed sheets that were scattered all over it and walked to the window, letting his eyes focus on the bright blueness of the sky as he tried to explain. "After she died, I tried to find out all I could about the cancer that killed her. It's one of the rarer forms out there and I wanted to make sure that …" Charlie's voice failed him. Try as he might he couldn't erase the bone deep pain that still stole over him when he spoke of his mother's death. Time had not healed this wound, it was as fresh today as it was then. He took a deep, controlling breath and glanced at his mentor. "I guess I wanted to make sure there was nothing I could have done."

"Charles, math can't solve everything. You know that."

"I know. I just … I had to make sure… for myself." Charlie looked out the window again. "Anyway, I found out that, in the last six years, two hundred and four people in the U.S. have died of the same type of cancer that my mother had, and that fifteen of those people lived in or around Maryton, New Jersey. They were also similar in age to my mother."

Larry shook his head. "I still don't see the connection, I'm sorry."

"I did some more digging and found that an another fifteen people out of that two hundred and four were born and raised in the Maryton area. That makes thirty people out of just over two hundred. My mother was one of them, Larry. And if there is something out there that is causing this to happen I want to help find it."

Charlie could see that the good doctor needed some reassurance. "Look, the project isn't due until the end of January. It's not all that hard, technically speaking. The data's already been compiled; the numbers are already on record. All I have to do is factor the probable odds that something in the Maryton area has contributed to the development of the same type of cancer in thirty people over a six-year time period. Unless something major happens between now and then, it'll be easy."

January 7

12:57 pm

Don felt his breathing get tight as he walked closer to Charlie's classroom. He wasn't sure what to say. Should he pretend like nothing happened? Should he apologize right away? He hated situations like this, even more so when he knew himself to be the cause. Hesitating just outside the doorway, he took a deep breath and told himself he would let Charlie set the tone. Having decided that, Don stepped forward into the classroom.

Charlie was sitting at his desk with his head cradled in his hands. Don couldn't see Charlie's face but it was clear from his body language that his brother was exhausted.

"Hey, Charlie," Don called softly.

Charlie jumped as if a gun had gone off. He put a hand to his chest and heaved a deep breath of relief. "Don! Jeez, don't DO that!"

Don laughed, he couldn't help it. "I'm sorry, Charlie. I didn't mean to scare you. I, uh, guess it's been pretty quiet around here lately."

"It was until now," Charlie told him accusingly, but there was no anger in his voice. If he was truthful with himself, he was glad to see his brother. The past two weeks had been long ones and he missed having Don around to bounce things off of, but Don had been so angry when they last parted, he'd been reluctant to approach him. "What brings you to the halls of academia?"

"A roast beef sandwich, actually."

Charlie blinked at him, clearly puzzled. "A roast beef sandwich? The cafeteria isn't open, Don."

"Not for me, for you." Don held up the bag he was carrying and shook it a little. "Dad and I missed you at lunch and we weren't sure you'd take the time." He regretted the words as soon as they were out. Charlie was sure to be angry that his father and brother were plotting against him, treating him like a child. But to his surprise and relief, Charlie only sighed and rubbed a hand against his forehead.

"Yeah, I guess I have been a little distracted lately."

Charlie had opened the door, Don took advantage and walked in. "What's going on, buddy? Dad's says you're not sleeping, you're hardly home. He's worried."

"I don't mean to worry him. I've just … I've got a lot going on. But one project is almost done, and the other… the other is ongoing, for a while anyway."

"You're not superman, Charlie. Even evil geniuses need to take time to eat." His brother laughed at that, the old in-joke between them, as Don hoped he would. He set the bag with the sandwich on Charlie's desk. "Now, how about you eat this before it gets warm."

"Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?" Charlie wondered with a smile. He was glad that the tension between them was gone, glad that the words they exchanged were part of the past. His relationships with Don and his father were complicated ones, but they were the only things he truly valued more than anything. He often wondered if their presence in his life was the only thing that kept him sane. His train of thought was interrupted by a yawn. God, he was tired!

"You gonna make it through lunch?" Don wanted to know. "How about I run up to the corner and grab you a Coke?"

Charlie nodded around another yawn. "That'd be great."

"Okay, then. I'll be back in five minutes. I want to see some progress on that sandwich, okay?"

In the short space of time it took him to get the soda, Don prepared a list of arguments to present to Charlie as to why he should go home and get some sleep. From gentle persuasion to outright dragging Charlie to the car, he covered all possible lines of resistance. When he got back to the campus, he realized he needn't have bothered with the mental preparation. His little brother was still seated at his desk; face down on stack of data, sound asleep, the sandwich still in the bag.

"Oh, Charlie," Don sighed. "What are we going to do with you?" He walked over to where his brother slept and put down the Coke he'd brought. In the warm, filtered sunlight he studied his brother, something he had been too distracted to think about before. Lines of fatigue were deep around Charlie's eyes and the stubble of several days' growth of beard was dark on his face. Despite the wear he was currently showing, Charlie looked, to his eyes anyway, to be very young, much younger than his actual years. He saw the sheets of data scattered over Charlie's desk and frowned at what he saw.

Half of the desk was covered with maps of what looked to be Asia decorated with Charlie's unique shorthand scrawls and bunches of crossed out calculations; lists of foreign sounding words were lined up in neat columns followed by a number. Anything over four digits was highlighted in pink and numbers over five digits in yellow. Charlie's handwriting took up the margins of many of the pages and Don could make out various mathematical calculations with arrows and question marks pointing to some of the figures. What was this? It didn't look like most of the work Charlie involved himself in.

Scattered on the other half of Charlie's desk were faxed printouts from some health agency in New Jersey. He picked up a few loose sheets and read the first few lines of type. A slight noise at the doorway caught his attention and he looked up, immediately on guard. It was Larry Fleinhardt, holding a paper bag with the logo of the deli Don had been at earlier.

Don grinned at him and Larry motioned him to follow.

He picked up the sandwich and the soda, not wanting to leave them in the warmth of the sun, and followed his brother's friend into what looked like a small staff room.

"Great minds think alike, I guess," he joked as Larry opened a refrigerator and they set their bags side by side on the shelf.

"Great minds that know your brother do, that's for sure," Larry replied with a sideways glance at the FBI agent. "How anyone so brilliant could be so …" he didn't finish, not sure how Charlie's brother would take his comment.

"Clueless?" Don volunteered, then chuckled at the startled look on Fleinhardt's face. "It's not a family secret or anything. We've always known that the only thing that can outgun Charlie's genius is his complete lack of common sense."

"I was thinking more along the lines of obsessive/compulsive but clueless works just as well. It just seems that Charles takes it to the extreme sometimes and lately," Larry's good natured smile melted into a worried frown, "…lately he's been spreading himself awfully thin. To be honest with you, Don, I'm worried about him."

Don fanned the papers he still held in his hand out for Larry to see. "What IS this? Why would Charlie be involved in cancer studies? Unless he's changed fields without my knowing?"

"Yes, that. It involves research into a cancer cluster – that's a group of cancer victims located in the same area – and this particular cluster centers around a place called Maryton, New Jersey."

It was Don's turn to frown. "Maryton? My mom was from there."

"Yes. It seems that an abnormally high number of people of your mother's age have been affected by the same rare cancer and Charlie is doing a probability study on whether the cases could, statistically, be related."

Apprehension he couldn't hide stole over Don's face. "Why would he be involved in something like that? How could he be involved? I mean, aren't those things usually handled by the state? Or the Feds?" He didn't like the idea that Charlie was involved in this, now matter how altruistic it might be. He honestly didn't think his brother was strong enough. Not emotionally anyway, not yet. Hell, he wasn't sure he was.

"As to why," Larry continued on, "Charles is the one who discovered the cluster. As to how, he got himself in through a contact at Princeton. It's not unheard of, certainly. I've just been worried that it's too much for him, especially in light of recent events."

"Oh," Don was a bit startled. Did Charlie discuss family matters with Dr. Fleinhardt? It was certainly possible, he guessed. Larry was Charlie's only real friend. "He told you about that then."

"Well, not all the details. He only told me that it's been very difficult."

"Yeah. I guess it got to us all," Don admitted. The vague feeling of shame that had plagued him for two weeks began to flicker again in his midsection.

"Yes, well I was shocked, of course. I mean, who wouldn't be, it was unprecedented. But to rehash it day after day, I think it's just too much for him."

Don was beginning to feel very uncomfortable with this conversation, but he couldn't just walk away. Their fight had affected Charlie that much? "He rehashes it every day?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"Of course. He has to, to make any sense of it. Between this and the cancer project no wonder he doesn't sleep. And that woman! I told him she was trouble but he didn't listen. Every time she needs something, she calls Charles and he says yes. Now she's on the phone with him every night and of course, because her office is in Australia, she has to call during business hours for them, which is the middle of the night here."

Don felt as if he had suddenly walked into a parallel universe. "Larry, you lost me. What exactly are you talking about?"

Larry picked up a complex printout from the staff room table and handed it to the agent. "That! Can you believe he even took it on? It would be enough to drive anyone nuts."

"What exactly am I looking at?"

"The tsunami zone in the Indian Ocean Basin. You are aware of it aren't you? The tsunami?"

"Of course I'm aware of it, but what does that have to do with Charlie?"

"He hasn't said anything to you?" Fleinhardt was genuinely puzzled.

Don shook his head. "I'm still not sure what 'this' is. I haven't seen Charlie in two weeks. He mentioned he had a research project he had to work on, but he wasn't specific."

"Two weeks ago … that would have been the cancer cluster project. He's said nothing to you or your father about this new project?"

"No. All Dad has told me is that Charlie is home late, up early and on the phone in the middle of the night. He's worried. And, now, so am I. Larry, what is going on?"

Fleinhardt opened and closed his mouth a few times before answering, as if trying to find the exact words to explain what Don was about to hear. "Have you ever heard of Gray Global?"

"Are we talking about Gray Global, the international studies group based out of Great Britain with offices all over the world doing research into the impact of the global economy?" Don asked.

"Exactly!" Larry sounded surprised Don had ever heard of the organization. "How did you know that?"

"The name came up during a tax fraud investigation Charlie helped out on. Our suspect was claiming to have diverted money into some kind of charity fund they have, then claiming the deduction. But we discovered that he didn't actually have anything set up with Gray."

"Okay then, we're ahead of the game here. Gray does have a charitable portfolio division. It allows a person to put money into a portfolio, like a stock portfolio, then they can choose what charitable organization they want the money transferred to, how much to transfer and how often, that sort of thing." Larry's brow furrowed as he realized he was giving Don information he already had. "But, I digress and you already know that because of your previous case, so I don't know why I'm telling you about it now." He brushed aside the error with a wave of his hand and went on. "Gray also does research on global economic impact and they have a very small, but well respected, division that catalogues natural disasters and the long-term impacts such disasters have on a community, country, region, etcetera. Are you with me so far?"

Don nodded. He still had no idea what this had to do with Charlie but he was worried enough that he was willing to wait the man out for an explanation.

"Good. The global disasters division is headed up by a woman named Dr. Suzette Beauchamps. She handles the compilation and dissemination of information for these things. Usually her team handles all the statistical information without any help but when the situation warrants, like when there is an abnormally large number of, say, casualties or property damage, she will outsource her figures to be validated."

A cold feeling began to settle in Don's stomach. Snippets of CNN Headline News ran through his head and images of bodies washed up on devastated shorelines ghosted across his line of vision. Unimaginable death tolls were being recalculated daily as the overwhelming scale of human loss in the wake of the tsunami was realized. He closed his eyes and willed the images to the back of his mind while he pushed down the feelings of dread that were creeping up and down his spine.

"Larry, please tell me that Charlie is verifying property loss."

Larry Fleinhardt shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, Don. I wish I could."

"So Charlie is …" Don couldn't get the rest of the words out, the thought was too horrible.

Fleinhardt finished for him; his own voice less than steady at the thought of what his young friend was doing every day. "Charlie is recalculating the reports from government agencies in over ten countries. Dr. Beauchamps has him confirming body counts."