Chapter 12: Breakthrough
Neal was relieved when Sara started acting more like her normal self—muddling lyrics and teasing him. He'd been surprised that she was excited about the singing lessons, but he took it as a good sign. She was no longer uncomfortable in his presence. He must be a better con artist than he realized.
Mozzie's arrival was the signal for dinner to begin. He'd brought along two bottles of a truly exceptional French Burgundy to celebrate what he described as shore leave before the next interplanetary voyage. Mozzie also provided the centerpiece for the dining room table—the armillary sphere. Sara had gone to Providence in an attempt to discover more about it. She'd waited for his return to go over the results.
"Caleb Truxton, the owner of the Nautical Shop where Mozzie purchased the sphere, pointed me in the right direction," she explained. "He directed me to an antique shop in the College Hill Historic District of Providence. I went there Wednesday morning and interviewed the shop owner. He'd sold the sphere to Caleb last year. When I asked him about the sphere's ownership history, he let me loose in his records room. I didn't realize how challenging it would be. His records—and I use the term loosely—turned out to be handwritten scraps of paper jumbled together with no sense of order. It took the rest of the day but I finally found what I was looking for."
"A name and address?" Mozzie asked eagerly.
She nodded. "George Dunlavy sold the sphere to the antique shop owner two years ago. I contacted him that evening. He owns a cottage in the historic district. He'd purchased it in 1962. Ten years later, he'd accumulated enough funds to begin an ambitious restoration plan. The remodel included tearing down some of the interior walls. He found the armillary sphere sealed within a wall of the master bedroom. Someone had cut a hole into the plasterboard and hidden it between the wall studs."
"Who was the previous owner?" June asked.
"The homeowner said he'd bought the cottage from Williams Colonial Bank. They told him they'd repossessed it the previous year from Francis Chaseman."
"I'm surprised he still remembers the name," Neal commented.
"I was too. He explained that he'd written it down at the time of the purchase, hoping he'd be able to learn more about the cottage's history. When he tried to contact Chaseman several years later, he wasn't able to locate him. I spent the next day scrounging for information about Chaseman. I checked with the police and the newspapers but couldn't find anything. The bank said the mortgage had been signed in November of 1961, but they'd misplaced the supporting documents. When I returned to Arkham on Friday, I checked with the IRS and they have no listing for a Francis Chaseman in Providence. It was as if he'd never existed."
"Another dead end." Neal tried to keep the frustration out of his voice. He'd gotten his hopes up when Sara mentioned the year. In January 1962, he'd been found in Arkham.
She tossed him a smile. "Not for me. I'd taken along that photo of Andrew Phelan that Thaddeus left you. Playing a hunch, I showed it around the neighborhood. One elderly woman who lives in the house across the street from the cottage remembers Chaseman. She said he was a recluse and not at all neighborly. I showed her the photo and she thought Chaseman might be an older version of Andrew. She didn't recognize the little girl, but that's not a surprise. We think the photo was taken roughly fifteen years earlier."
"Could she tell you anything about him and his family?" June asked.
"Not much, but she occasionally saw Chaseman with a little boy. She doesn't think the boy went to school. She never saw him playing outside."
"How old was the boy?" Mozzie asked.
"Around seven to nine." Sara turned to Neal. "She said he had dark hair. Neal, it could have been you."
Mozzie nodded. "The age fits. Neal would have been eight years old."
Finally. Someone who'd seen him before he showed up in Arkham, plus additional evidence that Andrew was his father or his grandfather. "Did she ever see a woman?" Neal asked.
"Your mother? No, I'm sorry. Around Christmas, the house was apparently abandoned. The neighbor remembers being upset because there were no holiday decorations. When the residents disappeared, she figured they'd planned it in advance. The police were called in but found no personal belongings and only a few items of furniture. Neighbors gossiped about what might have happened, but no one knew for sure."
"What specifically?" Mozzie demanded. He stared at Sara as if she was about to go supernova.
"A UFO abduction was one of the more popular theories. Some claimed to have heard unusual noises and bright lights. A few speculated that Chaseman was a Communist spy. The most interesting theory was that Chaseman and the little boy were mutants created by Soviet atomic cannons."
June broke out laughing. "That's straight out of Village of the Damned."
"The atomic cannons were a giveaway," Sara agreed, grinning as well. "I checked and it was one of the top films at the time. I'm surprised no one mentioned a witch was responsible."
Neal snorted. "I think it's safe that the Soviets weren't involved."
"I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss it," Mozzie countered. "Still, I must admit a strong preference for the extraterrestrial theory."
"Nothing like a disappearance to bring out the conspiracy theorists," June said, passing the French bread. "But your mention of the police is puzzling. I thought you said there were no police records."
"There weren't any," Sara said, helping herself to a slice. "I went back to the police, armed with the neighbor's evidence. They searched through their files and didn't find anything to substantiate her claim."
Mozzie tapped the side of his nose. "We know what happened. The aliens destroyed the evidence to cover up their actions."
Neal could play along. "Or the government moved in, seized all the evidence, and it now resides in Area 51."
Mozzie nodded thoughtfully. "Also worthy of further research."
Before Mozzie suggested flying to the site, Neal asked, "Does the neighbor remember how long Chaseman lived there?"
"Only a few months, she believes. It remained empty till the present homeowner bought it."
Was he the boy in the cottage? Where was his mother? Sara said she'd checked the school records but couldn't find a listing for a boy of seven or eight with the last name of either Phelan or Chaseman.
Mozzie was excited at a possible connection between Neal and the armillary sphere. Perhaps partly influenced by the excellent wine, he gave free rein to his imagination. Neal doubted strongly that any "women of the night" in Mozzie's words would remember Chaseman. Lavinia, on the other hand, might.
He studied the armillary sphere. Why had it been concealed in the wall? Where and when had Chaseman acquired it? There was nothing to indicate he'd been the one to hide it. If Andrew was Chaseman, where was Zophar? Merope, Celaeno, and Earth—three planets whose fates were intertwined. Mozzie said the equations inscribed on the rings could refer to gravitational waves. Were wormholes governed by those same waves?
Neal ignored the equations and concentrated instead on the bands of script carved into the rings. Gradually the tracery reformed itself in his mind into something intelligible. Was he really reading it or simply imagining it? He scanned the lines once more. Not daring to breathe for fear he'd lose the ability, he pulled the sphere closer. "Lion's lair?" What did that refer to? An actual lion?
"Did you have another vision?" Mozzie shook his shoulder. "Were you thinking of the leopard Sornoth?"
Startled, Neal looked up to see the others staring at him.
"He might be having a relapse." June sounded worried. He needed to reassure her but first he wanted to make sure he understood the text.
"Nonsense," Mozzie scoffed. "He had a vision. Neal, what did you see? You mumbled something that sounded like lion. Did you mean leopard? Next time you have a vision, remember to enunciate your words clearly."
He sat back in the chair and took a hasty gulp of water. "I can read the script."
"You are a psychic linguist!" Sara exclaimed.
He was unable to provide any insights on how he'd achieved it. "The same thing happened with the appendices to the Necronomicon. All I know is that now when I look at it, it's as if I'm reading English."
"Never mind the how," Mozzie interjected. "Get to the what." He grabbed a small notepad from his jacket as Sara pulled one out of her bag.
Neal read the lines aloud. "Seek the answers to your questions in Lyon. Go to the lion's lair on the hill that prays and place your hand on the tuft of his tail. The serpent flies overhead."
#
On a peaceful Monday morning, Lavinia was taking advantage of Phineas's absence to resume her research into eighteenth-century France. The chittaks were both sleeping peacefully in the rafters. The library was fortunate to have unpublished letters from Gaston, Duke of Orléans. If his report was accurate, Louis XIII was—
A loud rap on her office door interrupted her musing.
She ignored it. Ch'uli scrambled down the wall to spring onto her shoulder with a soft chitter.
"Not now," she muttered. "Whoever it is can come back later."
"Lavinia, I know you're in there!"
She sighed. Mozzie. What were the odds he'd go away if she didn't answer?
He rapped a second time, more loudly. "I have no intention of leaving until I see you!"
Was she to have no peace? He sounded increasingly infuriated. The Duke would have to wait. Ch'uli had already leaped off her shoulder to hide with Ch'orri in the turret, not that Mozzie would be able to see or hear them. After a quick glance around the chamber to verify that all was in order, she strode to the door.
She opened it a crack. "I have no time for you. Go away."
He thrust the door open and charged into the room, ignoring her protests. "When you hear what I have to say, you'll regret not having opened the door immediately."
She composed her features into a scowl so fierce that Ch'orri issued his warning cry. "I've already told you that despite your entreaties, we are not a match written in the stars. I will not enter into an amorous or any other kind of relationship with you."
"I accept that you are hesitant about dating someone of another species. Perhaps you have more entertaining and erudite suitors on your homeworld, but you certainly don't on this one. You should consider your options and reconsider. I'm the most fascinating man you've ever met, and you're by far the woman of my dreams. It's our destiny to be together. You will come to realize that, and I'm prepared to wait for as long as it takes. But, that's not why I came." He sat down at the table and pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. "Tell me about lions in Lyon."
She stared at him, flummoxed. "Stop talking nonsense. I'm a librarian, not a zoologist. Nor am I your travel agent."
That stopped him for a moment. "You've never heard of a lion's lair in Lyon?"
"Never." She hesitated. She should throw him out but he looked genuinely perplexed as if he expected her to have a familiarity with the concept. That was intriguing. "Why do you think I should?"
He gave her the sheet of paper, explaining that Neal had translated the script on the armillary sphere. At last. What they'd hoped for had happened. He could read Celaenian. If only the crystal manuscript hadn't been destroyed, what might he have read? Was his passage through the waterfall portal on Merope the cause of his new ability? It was the first time he'd experienced a Celaenian wormhole. She couldn't wait to inform Phineas. But the words were baffling. She'd hoped for a more overt message.
"You're telling me the Meropians had nothing to do with the armillary sphere?" Mozzie demanded.
She had no intention of being interrogated. And anything she said might be inaccurate. Their directive to interfere as little as possible, restricting themselves only to what was essential to accomplish their mission, had been difficult in the extreme. Mistakes were unavoidable. But she comforted herself that she'd disclosed nothing that would change the course of Earth's history.
"The writing of which you speak is Celaenian, not Meropian. That much I can tell you. For the rest, you must wait for Phineas."
"But clearly this comes as news to you as well. Does your species use fractal equations to describe gravitational waves?"
"Didn't you hear me the first time? History, languages—those you can ask me about. Mathematics? You will learn nothing from me." Mozzie looked so disappointed, she tossed him a scrap. "Phineas will return shortly. He may know more."
She started to rise from the table, but Mozzie grabbed her arm. "Not so fast. We're not done yet."
"Yes, we are."
"I want algolnium."
"Do you also want to be invisible?"
"Yes. Can you do that too?"
Hmm. Her sarcasm was not achieving the typical result. Mozzie was a persistent bee, hovering around her face. Would he give her no peace? Did he intend to sting her? She longed to swat him. "Answer me this. Why do you want algolnium?"
"Am I correct in my hypothesis that algolnium is essential for successful passage in a wormhole?"
She hesitated. She and Phineas had already discussed in general terms how much to divulge. In this case, she wasn't revealing anything, only acknowledging something he'd already deduced. A satisfactory solution. "What's your point?"
"Neal and Peter need me. Those fractal equations on the armillary sphere, for instance. They appear to relate to gravitational waves, but you don't know what their significance is. Neither do Neal and Peter. Plainly the Celaenians expect someone conversant with higher mathematics to be on the team. Why else would they have included them on the rings?"
A non-sequitur if there ever was one. The gall of the man. Hadn't she just told him she knew nothing about fractals? And now he had the effrontery to use her words against her. Assuming that the Celaenians had left the message for him on the armillary sphere was outrageous . . . and intriguing.
He appeared to sense her hesitation as he continued to blast her with reasons why it was essential for him to accompany them off-world. "You know I'm right," he said finally, looking exasperated. "Why are you fighting me? I don't understand the nature of your connection to Neal, but it's clear there is one. Nor can you deny the bond he and I share." He added in a quieter voice, "Neal is the link uniting you and me. Surely you understand that it would be unconscionable for me not to do everything in my power to help him. I can't do that unless I'm able to accompany him off-world."
She was quiet for a moment. He'd made the one argument she couldn't refute. "What makes you think I can satisfy your wish?"
Mozzie was ready for her question as he promptly shot back, "You enabled Peter. You can do the same with me."
"You should know it's not without risk. The effects are not all positive. Yes, you'll be able to travel through wormholes, but you may also become a target of the Ymar."
"Did you inform Peter before you gave it to him?"
"No, but I should have. Back then, we didn't realize the Ymar had made so many inroads."
He shrugged. "Anything worth doing has a certain element of risk. Neal didn't ask for algolnium, either. He shouldn't have to confront the challenges that lie ahead without my support."
He made a strong case. Phineas had advocated giving Mozzie algolnium as well, but when Thaddeus fell into a coma, she vowed not to make any other attempts. Phineas argued that the experiment with Peter demonstrated algolnium could be safely administered in small dosages. If she gave him algolnium, would the others want it as well? Would that be a bad thing?
"Very well," she agreed. "I'll do as you request, but you are to divulge this to no one until I've discussed it with Neal and Peter."
His face lit up like the stars in Orion's belt. "It will be our secret. Do with me what you will. I'm yours to command."
She stood up and headed for the kitchen.
He followed her. "Does this mean you'll go out to dinner with me?"
She spun around. He did have a debonair look, and his conversations had always been informative. She thought back on that moment years ago when she first met him. He challenged her as no other human had. She'd be remiss in her mission if she didn't take advantage of the situation. "What evening do you propose?"
Notes: You may have detected Peter's fondness for puzzles in the message on the armillary sphere. The White Collar team knows that a Vermeer painting called The Astronomer is at the center of a scheme to control Neal. In Nocturne in Black and Gold, Peter considered making a puzzle out of the constellations which are found on the celestial globe in the painting. The riddle on the armillary sphere is the result. I wrote about possible meanings for the references in my blog post: "Messages to Azathoth: An Unreliable Trigger."
New York Neal and Sara had given Diana suggestions for their characters. It was Neal's idea to have his Arkham counterpart have space bends. Sara suggested the singing lessons. As for the relationship between Mozzie and Lavinia—scientific, amorous, collegial, or otherworldly—Mozzie and June are the puppetmasters.