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26 – CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX – 1.134^26
Don was tired, in every way. Everything was just too much.
By now, it was late Monday evening. Since the conversation with his father, another hour of witness interrogation and search for the mobsters had passed without them having made any progress although they now had a composite sketch of this pseudo student.
He wondered what Charlie was doing right now. Not much, probably, a cynical voice in his mind answered him. He swallowed when his imagination, enriched by his job, put horrible images in front of his eyes: Charlie, tied up and gagged, helplessly lying on the floor in some dark cellar, alone, his eyes wide with terror, those eyes hitting him like silent cries of help...
But maybe... maybe he wasn't as helpless as Don imagined. After all, a week ago they had also been able to free themselves and not least because of Charlie's cleverness.
Though this time his brother was alone.
The feeling of guilt hit Don with all its power. If he were with his brother now, if they were together, then they'd have a much greater chance of escaping from the mobsters. If maybe he'd accompanied Charlie to CalSci or hadn't sent him there in the first place, if he had just paid a little more attention...
And instead, he was sitting here. How could that possibly be of use to Charlie? How could he help him from here? Especially when he'd let himself be dragged away by depressing thoughts!
Angry with himself, Don sat up, once more sifting through the possible locations where they suspected the head-quarters were or at least of some mafia hiding-place.
Few minutes had passed when he had already to pull himself together a lot to prevent his eyes from closing. The screen was flickering in front of his eyes; the bright light and the continuous humming was giving him a headache. He had to go on though. He had to go on. He had to find something...
"Don?"
Don squinted, turning around towards the voice. He became aware that once more he had almost been asleep, and when he noticed James O'Connagh's expression it became clear to him that his colleague hadn't missed this tiredness.
"I've just sent your team home," O'Connagh informed him.
"What? Why?" Don sounded a bit more bewildered than politeness allowed him, but the other man generously ignored it.
"Because they looked just like you. And therefore you're now also going home and having a rest."
"But –"
"No, Don, stop it. I understand that you want to find Charlie, but the way you're now, you're really not a big help to us. You need a clear head. Take a sleeping pill and go get some rest. And tomorrow we'll continue."
Don looked him in the eyes, as steadily as he could, and knew that his friend was serious. After all, they'd been on the go for two days now without a pause. He knew that he had no choice and capitulated. He still wasn't convinced 100 per cent though.
"And if they call?"
O'Connagh sighed. Don knew as well as himself how improbable that was. Still. "If they do, it's us who're going to negotiate with them, Don. They'll gather that at least by now the FBI's on their tracks. And if they want to speak to you, there's still your mobile. Trust us, Don. We'll do everything we can. And we'll find him."
Don nodded heavily and hit the road for his apartment. He had already a frightening presentiment of what his dreams would be about.
0 – 0 – 0
Dimitrij Kalinkov nodded thoughtfully. That was good... that was even very good...
"You're sure?" he needed to be certain. After everything that had gone wrong before he couldn't quite believe that now there was really something going right for them.
"Yes, boss," Malenkov confirmed. "They've kidnapped him. We don't know where he is yet, but we know that the FBI is looking for him."
Kalinkov frowned. "Where did you get that from?"
"We were able to eavesdrop on them. Ivanov and Raskolnitov. Moreover they said that they had to be careful because the FBI probably suspected that they were behind the abduction. Ivanov said something about a social network the math guy had composed."
The boss sighed, as much from relief as from tension. Even if the others were the suspects – who could tell them that the FBI's involvement would nevertheless mess up their plans? However, sometimes you had to stop second-guessing and just take the bull by the hands.
"We've got to take advantage of the situation," he decided. "The FBI is too busy to find this math guy and the others are too occupied with the FBI. We've got to act quickly now to finally get the List."
0 – 0 – 0
With trembling limbs, Charlie let himself down again in the shallow bit of water. The second flood had just retreated and with his experience of the first one it hadn't seemed as bad to him and he'd managed to curb his panic. However, he wasn't stupid enough to feel safe. If it got stormy or if there were other changes in the world outside of his dungeon it was very possible that the water would rise higher.
He also thought that this time the water had risen two, three more centimeters higher compared to the last flood. And reluctantly he could feel his body suffering the consequences; he was slowly becoming weaker and weaker.
It seemed to get every worse with every minute passing. Always worse. Always downwards and it had started at such a low point.
In spite of everything, a wry smile crept onto Charlie's face. When things just can't get any worse, they will. Anytime things appear to be going better, you have overlooked something, Richard Feynman had said once. And Larry Fleinhardt. Charlie could clearly remember sitting in Larry's seminar in Princeton, listening with fascination to the words of his professor. Larry had told them extensively about the physician he esteemed so highly, and had encouraged some critical discussions on his idol's theories.
In a certain sense you could also apply this saying to the principles of the theory of relativity or even the uncertainty principle, Charlie had claimed then. Is it not so? In order to say if something's good or bad you need something to compare it to. And depending on the observer this point of view can change. Moreover, also the object you're watching can change if you reflect upon it, if you analyze it...
Charlie could see everything in his mind's eye, the students around him, the atmosphere of the university, Larry's approving smile… And Charlie smiled back at the Larry in his mind.
He sighed. He missed him. Larry would surely have been able to help him now. He would have made him analyze his situation using some of his cryptic metaphors. And even if that hadn't helped Charlie to get out of here, he would at least have felt less vulnerable and miserable. And Larry could have whispered to him something more comforting than that one pessimistic motto of Feynman's.
Pessimists are optimists with experience. The way things were looking like at the moment, Charlie had to agree with the proverb and thus also with Feynman's thesis. Generally, he had been thinking for days that things couldn't become any worse, and each time nature had to prove him wrong. At first the mafia groups, Don's hatred against him, the assault in the garage, his abduction. And also his situation in this hole was becoming worse. His drinking water was running low, his pain was increasing...
At least his situation also solved some problems. For example, Charlie was quite sure that Don didn't hate him anymore, at least not right now. He knew by experience that his big brother didn't want him to be endangered. And he was quite certain that Don was probably doing everything in his power to find him.
0 – 0 – 0
"Don? Those students've just arrived. Do you and David want to question them?"
Don had already risen from his chair. He gave O'Connagh a short but grateful glance before he went to the interrogation room. David joined him and they entered the place where three university students were already waiting: a girl and two boys. They had called half an hour ago because there was a possibility they had seen the kidnappers' vehicle.
"Hello, you three," David greeted them. "This is Special Agent Eppes and I'm Special Agent Sinclair."
"Hi. Uh... That's Lucy Sanders, Jack Davids and I'm Mark Baker. Uh... we were told to come here because –"
"Yes, we know," Don cut him off. "So you saw a vehicle?"
"Yeah, yesterday evening," Mark answered. He seemed to be going to continue, but hesitated before eventually asking, "I'm sorry, but you are Professor Eppes' brother, aren't you?"
"Yes," Don replied shortly. "The vehicle?"
"Uh... Well, we already said on the phone that we aren't entirely sure if it's even important... that's also why we didn't call straight away..." Mark fell silent when he noticed Don's expression, and went on hastily. "Right, the vehicle was sitting in front of the university the whole day yesterday. I'd never noticed it before, though."
"It was a van," the other boy piped in. "One of the types with a sliding door on one side. And with tinted windows."
"And black in colour," the girl added.
"What make of car?"
The girl and the boy who had spoken first, Mark, shrugged. "Maybe a KIA, but I'm really not sure," Jack admitted.
Don and David stared at each other.
"Listen, we're not car-jocks, okay?" Mark argued.
"Was there someone inside it? Maybe someone who was waiting?"
The three students exchanged helpless glances. Eventually they shrugged. "We don't know," Mark said. "As we said, the windows were tinted."
"Was that everything? A dark transporter?" Don was finding it difficult to stay calm. He had thought they would finally have something, that they would at last have a real clue. And instead, they were apparently merely three kids who just wanted to see what it was like at the FBI. Probably so that they could boast to their friends later.
He stood, irritated, and wandered up and down the room. He let the air escape through his nose loudly before he spoke, "Listen, guys, if that's everything, you should better go now. Maybe you don't realize that, but we're right now trying to save a human life."
The three students stared at him. "Of course we realize that," Mark stammered after some seconds. "We –"
"Do you have anything else for us or was that everything?"
"We got the license plate."
Don paused. He first stared at the students before he exchanged a staggered look with David.
"You got what?" David asked.
"The plate," the girl repeated. "4 PID 434."
Again the two agents looked at each other in amazement. "Why didn't you tell us at once?" David wanted to know, lacking understanding.
"We did. Just now."
A bit unsettled by the men's silence, Lucy felt forced to add, "It's pi, that's why. Four to the power of four divided by three to the power of four, two-hundred fifty-six divided by eighty-one. In former times that was a very well-known value for pi, a bit inexact maybe, but back then it was enough. And then the PID, so to say the ID, the identity of pi... we just thought that it kind of fits..." She looked helplessly at the two boys.
Don's confusion was evident on his face. He was standing in front of three young American citizens, who – to the outside – appeared to be totally normal, who didn't seem to be able to distinguish a Ferrari from a Fiat, but who instead invented mathematical formulas from license plates. Don didn't know if he should really believe that, and yet he was aware that he had already often been a witness to such an anomaly. The girl's comment, the plate, this way of seeing things... all of that reminded him so achingly of Charlie...
"We thought it might be a new professor who has a thing about pi," Mark explained, becoming more and more insecure as the agents continued their silence. "But we called the secretary, first thing this morning, and they don't know the car, it's neither a new professor nor guest lecturer."
David cleared his throat. "Well... Okay, so... thanks, guys. That's all for now. Or do you have anything else we should know?"
They shook their heads. "Will you..." Lucy stopped short before she spoke anew. "Do you believe you'll find him? Professor Eppes?"
"Yes," Don said shortly before he left the room without any further word.
The others stared after him. "Okay, right..." David cleared his throat once more and tried to ignore Don's behavior. "You've really helped us a lot. And don't worry. We'll... we're optimistic that we'll bring your professor back to you, alright?"
David wouldn't have had to look at their worried faces to know that too many things were most certainly not alright.