Charlie approached the newly renovated building, David Sinclair at his side. The building was large and square, the bricks covering the outer aspect sturdy and comforting, suggesting that whatever went on inside was upstanding and dependable. Like a bank, Charlie thought, back in the good old days when people trusted their money to remain there in good shape. Anders had had a crew in for the past couple of weeks, Don had told him, ripping out the guts and replacing them with new and clean interiors, putting in the auditorium where Anders would deliver his spiel. Now the interior lobby had a pristine look about it, sparkling and fresh, something that would stand up to the multitudes that Anders expected to come and listen to him spew his nonsense. There was a non-entity behind the reception desk, handing out name tags and indicating the markers on the side table for use by the guests. The walls, Charlie saw, were wood tone; not real wood but the decorating job was close enough to make it look nice. Soft lights pushed upward, since the sun was making a determined attempt to escape at this time of the evening.
Charlie was grateful that David was beside him. Now that this thing had turned into 'real', he was having second thoughts. It had been all well and fine to volunteer to confront this person making the outrageous claims—Charlie had a small flashback to Larry ranting over lunch yesterday—but at the moment that seemed rather far away.
David caught his momentary case of nerves, and leaned in. "You can still back out, Charlie."
"No, I can't," Charlie whispered back. "You were right; he came to me because of Don. I'm stuck in the middle."
David nodded, reluctantly agreeing. "Just remember, I'm here beside you. I won't let anything go wrong. Introduce me as Professor David Sinclair, political science. He'll see right through me, but that's not the point. Anders is expecting us to do exactly this. We're going to give him what he wants." He squeezed Charlie's arm in reassurance, guiding the math professor into the auditorium.
The inner room was big and cavernous, and here Charlie could see the haste that the workers used to get the place ready in time. Paint had been slapped on without adequate protection for the trim, and here and there a finish nail hadn't been truly finished. Charlie glanced uneasily up at the huge chandelier that swung above, wondering if the thing would come crashing down at some inopportune moment; say, when he or someone else was standing underneath it.
The crush of people slowly trudged their way inside. Charlie estimated that Anders had drawn some two to three hundred people to opening night, and, from the sounds of it, most were simply curious or in need of cheap entertainment. Charlie began to feel better. These were intelligent people, students and professors, not people who were going to accept Anders' spoutings on face value. These people would be all right. The quantity almost filled the small auditorium, and Charlie allowed the corner of his mouth to smirk upward. His seminars, on such erudite topics as the Eppes Convergence, would fill a place like this twice over if not more.
"Let's sit over here," he suggested, pushing David to a spot not below the chandelier.
David too glanced upward, and agreed.
Whatever shortcuts had been taken with the décor, the same could not be said for the sound system. Here, Anders spared no expense. From the moment he took the small stage, his voice boomed forth like the trumpets of Mount Olympus, cascading down the mountain and rumbling off into the sea.
"You deserve the best in life, because you are the best life has to offer," he shouted through the mike. Charlie winced; the sound was loud enough to hurt his ears. "You are the best, the brightest, the smartest. I could go on, but I don't have to. You already know this.
"What you don't know is how to tap into that potential that you already possess. You need to grab hold of life; you need to seize it by the throat and squeeze until it gives up its wealth to you."
Charlie couldn't help it; he zoned out. A sticking point on Cognitive Emergence wrote itself onto the whiteboard of his mind along with a potential strategy for solving it, and Charlie began to calculate the digits, occasionally substituting numbers for the variables in order to test the proposed partial theorem. Right: if alpha sub-one pi over two pi alpha sub-two, that would account for the change over time assuming that maturation variable remained constant. Given the speed with which cognition evolved, Charlie doubted that his assumption was correct but it would work for this part of the analysis. The next piece could assault the varying emergence speed, which meant that computer analysis would be required to turn Cognitive Emergence into anything applicable, but that was a no-brainer. Any application theory these days required a certain amount of brute force computations, and that always demanded computer time. The question later on would be if it could be adapted to a smaller mainframe or if it would require the resources of a Cray.
Which was why he was taken by surprise, rising hastily to his feet with the rest of the audience, when Anders completed his speech. Charlie clapped, taking his cue from 'Professor' Sinclair, who was enthusiastically pumping his arms to keep up with the rest of the audience. He eyed his neighbors in the auditorium, mostly college kids although he did spot three of the younger professors from the Psych department and one each from History and English—and by younger he meant only a decade older than Charlie himself.
Charlie had apparently also missed the money pitch, for roughly a third of the audience was filing forward to the stage to pick up additional application forms and some to plunk down payment in the form of cash or credit. He started forward, to be part of the crowd, only to be jerked back by a swift tug on his arm by David. He looked up. David shook his head imperceptibly, and Charlie recalled this part of his instructions: let Anders come to Charlie. Charlie did not go to Anders. Anders would suspect something if Charlie seemed as though he'd been taken in.
Instead, he allowed David to escort him out, weaving his way through the crowd, occasionally recognizing and acknowledging several of his students. "Hey, Josh, yes, it was an interesting premise." "No, Janice, this will not appear on tomorrow's lecture," although I may have to think up a proof to deny what Anders said, if only I can figure out what it was. I'm not about to tell you that I stopped listening.
Although maybe I should. That might be an effective way to suggest that Anders had nothing worthwhile to say.
Charlie liked that thought, played with it all the way back to David's car.
"So, what did you think?" David broke into Charlie's thoughts.
"Hm?"
"Anders' talk," David repeated. "You know, the lecture we just left? What did you think of it?"
Charlie was glad that the night's darkness covered the red flushing over his face. "Hate to tell you this, David, but I think I forgot to listen. What did he say?"
David stared at him, finally breaking into a white-toothed grin. "Man, am I going to be pleased to be able to tell Don that." He chuckled. "You couldn't have given a better answer, Charlie. You really didn't listen?"
"Uh…yeah," Charlie admitted, guiltily pleased that David seemed to like his answer. "There was this Cognitive Emergence thing that I've been working on, and—"
David put up a hand. "Save it for someone who can follow what you're saying, professor. In the meantime, let me take you home. Don's waiting there for us, right?"
As it turned out, not only was Don waiting for the pair to return but so were Alan Eppes, Megan and Colby.
Don barely let them get into the house. He swiftly scanned his brother's face. "You're okay, buddy? Nothing happened? David?"
"Nothing happened, Don." Charlie wasn't certain if he liked the attention or felt more embarrassed by it. He'd felt this way his first few weeks at Princeton, he recalled, with his mother trying not to hover over him but still wanting to protect him from the 'older kids'. None of them really knew where to draw the line; even Charlie himself wasn't sure that he didn't want his mom running interference. Classes were easy. It was trying to fit in with kids four or more years older than he was that was hard.
This was similar, with Don and the others wondering how far to protect him from Anders. Charlie felt a momentary flare of annoyance. Did he really need protection from Anders? The man's words, what Charlie remembered of them, were designed to appeal to the lowest common denominator of society, not someone with an advanced degree and an ability to think logically. And Charlie was not someone in need of counseling, someone whose life was not in order. Charlie had a successful career, a burgeoning love life with a beautiful and intelligent woman, a stable family life.
"Nothing happened, Don," David echoed, supporting Charlie's statement.
"Not that we expected it to," Megan put in. "I'll bet that Anders was watching for Charlie in the audience."
"We made it easy for him," David said. "Charlie signed in on the sign-in sheet."
"I even made it legible," Charlie told his brother. "Do you know how hard that was for me?"
"After the years your mother spent trying to get you to write properly, I appreciate it," Alan commented. "It's nice to know that some of it got through that thick skull of yours."
Colby drew them back. "All right, what's next? What is Anders going to do, now that he's seen Charlie at one of his lectures?"
"Easy," Don said. "If Anders stays true to form, he's going to start inviting a few of his guests into his 'back room' for some intensive 'counseling'. He'll pick and choose from the list of people who applied." He eyed Charlie nervously. "You didn't sign up, right, Chuck?"
"Yes, mother," Charlie returned, allowing an edge of irritation to show.
"Good," Don grunted, not mollified.
"We stick to the plan," Megan told the room. "We make Anders come to Charlie. Anders knows that we know that he's after Charlie. He's out to show us that he can beat us, just like he beat the San Francisco people and all the other towns where he's offered his seminars." She focused on Charlie. "Charlie, there's more information that you should know. My profile shows that Wesley Anders is a very angry man, and that he has pinned his anger onto people that he perceives as 'smart'. I looked at his victims, and by and large they were all very intelligent people. The professors were well-respected in their fields, and the students were not party animals. They were the ones their classmates looked up to, the ones that were expected to go on to make significant contributions to their chosen body of knowledge. The victims did not fit the typical 'victim' profile."
"In other words: you, Charlie." Don was clearly not happy. "You sure you don't feel like killing yourself?"
"No, Don."
"If my profile is correct, the next move is Anders'." Megan moved them back to the pertinent points of the discussion. "Charlie, over the next couple of days, I expect Anders to come to you and invite you to some sort of 'special' lecture. He'll couch it in terms of perhaps 'doing him a favor'. Agree to do whatever he asks, but make him work for it. Don't agree immediately. Extract some sort of compromise, maybe tell him that you'll attend 'if you have the time'. Understand?"
Charlie nodded. "I can do reluctant. Won't he expect me to jump, if he thinks that I'm working with Don and the rest of you?"
Megan smiled. "Yes, but this is what Anders will be expecting. There are a whole bunch of 'he knows, we know' type phrases wiggling through here, so many that I can't keep track of them. Bottom line, we want to behave as Anders expects us to. If we deviate, we risk scaring him off. He'll run, and we'll lose our best chance of nailing him." She looked at the clock on the wall. "It's late, guys, and we'll all bushed. There's nothing more we can do tonight. Charlie, if you need to talk about this, call me. Day or night."
"Or me," Colby put in.
"Or me," David added, not to be outdone.
"What, he can't talk to his father?"
Don nodded. "Chuck, I'm going to crash here for the night. Maybe the next few nights."
Charlie looked at each of the five, and sighed. "Five baby-sitters. And I thought I had it bad when just Don was the baby-sitter." He looked at his brother. "You gonna bring in a girl-friend this time, too?"
Alan looked at Don. "He did? When he was supposed to be watching you?"
The moment came sooner than Charlie had anticipated. Wesley Anders approached him in his office right after his Tuesday morning class.
"Professor Eppes," Anders greeted him, extending his hand.
Charlie took it automatically before remembering that he was supposed to be reluctant, that Don had 'primed' him to avoid this man. "Mr. Anders."
"Call me Wesley," Anders invited. "How did you like my seminar last night?"
"Very…interesting," Charlie lied. The first part was psycho-babble. The second half I didn't listen to.
"Glad that you liked it." Anders paused, just long enough to make it seem as though his next offer was spontaneous. "You didn't sign up for my follow up sessions. They're only open to a select few, you know. It's an opportunity to spread your wings and fly. You can let your light shine through."
"Thanks, but I'm kind of busy at the present time." Charlie gestured apologetically to the whiteboard, covered with a multitude of symbols. "I'm a little behind on my work."
"I understand, but this is exactly the time when you most need what I have to offer," Anders oozed. "With my help, you can increase your work speed three-fold. You can let your light shine through, have your work recognized for the genius that it is."
I'm already recognized for the genius that I am. That's why I'm teaching here at CalSci, along with the other recognized geniuses.
Charlie tried to look interested, but not too interested. "Well…"
"You would do me a great favor by attending," Anders pushed. "Think of it! One session with me, and your work shines forth. I too will have some small part in your success, and that will make it easier for others to take advantage of my techniques. Think of the advances that will be made, all because you had the courage to explore your own brilliance!"
Charlie looked longingly at his whiteboard, hoping that his expression didn't look fake. "Maybe I could spare a little time…"
"Wonderful! A few minutes is all that I ask," Anders told him. "I look forward to seeing you there, Professor Eppes." He took Charlie's hand again, shaking it. "Until tonight."
"Until tonight," Charlie echoed.
He waited until Anders disappeared down the stairs before picking up his phone and dialing a well-known number. "Don? Charlie. It went just as you predicted…"
"Don? Don, wait a second." Megan pushed Don back into his cubicle. "Don, we're on a coffee break right now, right?"
"Right," Don said instantly. "What have you got?"
"I lucked out," Megan told him. "I ran across some additional information on our friend. It seems that Mr. Wesley Anders, after receiving his bachelor's degree in psychology, failed to gain admittance to any of the graduate schools that he applied to, and he applied to a bunch. They all turned him down, and turned him down a second time when he re-applied the following year. Insufficient grades, for the most part, compounded by poor marks on the Graduate Record Exam. I talked to someone at his college, off the record, and while she wouldn't say anything directly, I got the distinct impression that Wesley Anders was not the best-loved student at his alma mater." She let Don peruse the papers that she'd dredged up. "This explains his anger, and it explains why he targets the victims that he does. Most people in his position, looking to build a business as a life coach, would go after those groups of people less likely to question what he's saying, more eager to succeed by following his advice, and grow a reputation from there. Anders wants the challenge of those who don't think that they can benefit from what he's peddling; he's telling the world look at me! I really am smart! I'm rubbing the smart guys' noses in it."
"Yeah, he's smart all right," Don grunted. "So now we have the motive: he's out to pay back the world for his lack of recognition by the Charlies of the world. Any thoughts on the method?"
"Do I have to think of everything?" Megan mock-complained. "I should leave something for you and David and Colby to figure out. You hear from Charlie yet? Anders make his move?"
"Yes. Anders hit him up this morning, and Charlie says that he responded just the way you primed him. He thinks that Anders thinks that he's suckered Charlie in on the lure." Don blinked, hoping that the sentence came out with the meaning that he intended it to have.
"Good," Megan said. "So far, Anders is reacting the way we think that he should. We'll keep an eye on him."
"How?" Don asked gloomily. "In case you haven't noticed, we all have day jobs. No case means no warrants to look over Anders' cell phone records, see who he's contacting. We can't legitimately investigate him."
"People like this don't usually contact many people, Don," Megan replied gently. "I know you're worried about Charlie; we all are. The best way to protect him is to figure out how Anders does what he does, and then arrest him for it. Solve the case, Don."
"There is no case," Don groaned. "No murders, just a bunch of suicides. Nothing we can pin on him."
"Yet," Megan reminded him. "Yet."