Simple Genius (27 page)

BY EARLY THE NEXT MORNING the bad weather had passed and Sean and Michelle convened at the same isolated spot about a mile from Babbage Town. When they had talked yesterday Michelle had recounted her experience on the river. In turn he’d brought her up to speed about Champ’s lack of an alibi. They were meeting this morning to go over things in more detail away from prying eyes at Babbage Town.

He said, “Tell me again what was Viggie doing out on the water in a kayak all by herself?”

“She basically said she wanted some alone time.”

“Or maybe she wanted to get a better look at Camp Peary?”

“Why?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Did you find out anything on your end?”

Sean nodded. “I talked to Hayes. He got a look at Monk’s passport and it shows that he
did
travel to Germany.”

“Do we know where?”

“He entered by way of Frankfurt. That’s all Hayes could tell me. I’ve called Joan and she’s trying to run down more specifics for us.” He unrolled a large piece of paper and spread it out over the hood of Michelle’s truck. “I took a picture of the satellite map of Camp Peary that Freeman had in his office and had it enlarged.”

He pointed out various sections to her. “I’ve heard different numbers, but I believe the place is about ten thousand acres, most of it undeveloped. As we already knew, the runway is fairly near where Monk’s body was found. A bit south are what appear to be a series of bunkers. Farther down from that is a boat dock.” He traced another section with his finger that had names printed on it. “This looks like some of the neighborhoods Freeman mentioned. Bigler’s Mill Pond is here, Porto Bello house there, Queens Lake behind it and Magruder there. The main complex is bordered on the west by Interstate 64 and to the south by Colonial National Historical Parkway. And the Naval Supply Cheatham Annex is there,” he added, poking the paper with his index finger.

“There’s an inlet from the York south of the runway and it carries you deeply into the grounds,” Michelle pointed out.

“And we can be sure it’s well guarded,” Sean said. “Certainly on land and for all I know they have the inlet mined.”

“So over the fence we go? Did the equipment come in?”

Sean nodded.
“Yeah, all of it.”
He suddenly slumped back against the truck. “Michelle, I don’t want to go over that fence, it’s insane. Even if we don’t get killed I’m not looking to spend the rest of my life in prison, and I’m not going to let you do it.”

“But if you do go I can’t let you go alone.”

“Maybe we don’t have to if Joan finds out where Monk went in Germany.”

“
Which may not tie into any of this.
”

“How about Viggie?
Codes and blood?”

Michelle shook her head.
“Nothing new.
She was understandably subdued when we got back from the river. Her piano playing was very restrained which
is
unusual. Normally she says, ‘Michelle, I like you’, and then she plays like a banshee, screams ‘Codes and Blood’ and then runs up to her room. She didn’t do it this time. She just thanked me for saving her life and then sat and played very slowly and beautifully, like she was thanking me again with music. It was actually very touching. And . . .”

Michelle’s voice trailed off as she stared at Sean.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she said in a barely audible tone.

“Yes, and I’m also thinking how big an idiot I am for not seeing it before.”

They jumped in the truck.

He checked his watch. “What about your plane ride with Champ?”

“Postponed until tomorrow.”

“Good, maybe by then you’ll change your mind. Call Horatio and tell him to meet us at Alicia’s cottage.”

“Why?”

“He’s a piano player, that’s why.”

AFTER WHAT HAPPENED on the river they kept Viggie out of school today,” Michelle said as Horatio and Sean followed her up the walk to Alicia’s cottage. “But I think she’ll only play for me.”

“Horatio brought his recorder,” Sean explained. “We’ll stay out of sight but we’ll still hear the song.”

“And then what?” Michelle asked.

“Then if it is code we can get some help decrypting it. I know at least one genius hanging around this place.”

Horatio placed his sound-activated recorder near the piano, but hidden behind some books. Afterward he and Sean snuck out to the screened-in front porch. Through an open window they could hear the music from here.

Michelle went upstairs, got Viggie and asked her to play the song for her again.

The girl dutifully did and then went back upstairs. Michelle retrieved the recorder and joined Horatio and Sean.

Sean said, “I’ve contacted Alicia at work. She’s coming over shortly. Horatio, in the meantime can you write down the notes to the song she was playing just by listening to it?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Wait a
minute,
you didn’t recognize the song, did you? If you do we can just check around for the sheet music. She must have it here somewhere.”

“Sorry, that stuff was a little too mellow for me,” Horatio admitted. “I’m more into classic rock.”

By the time Alicia arrived home Horatio had the notes written out. Sean showed them to her.

“So you think these are somehow a code?” she asked.

“That’s right,” Sean said.

“The thing is with musical notes you have only a few possibilities to work with.”

Horatio nodded. “A, B, C, D, E, F, G. Of course you can break them down into sharps, flats, etc.”

“Is that enough for you to work with, Alicia?” Sean said anxiously.

“I won’t know until I know,” she said. “Any idea what the subject matter might be?”

Sean looked at Michelle but remained silent.

Alicia, who’d been watching him, snapped, “Damn it, if you don’t trust me enough to tell me what you’re looking for, go find somebody else to help you.”

“Okay, okay.” He drew a deep breath. “You might want to think about Camp Peary, German prisoners of war and secret flights.”

Alicia’s eyes widened. “Just for the record, I’m a linguist and mathematician, not a cryptanalyst.”

“But some of the world’s best code breakers were linguists and math types,” Sean pointed out.

“Well it would be nice to have some more
context
to work with. Monk Turing was a very smart man. I doubt it’s something simple.”

Sean cried out, “Turing!
Codes and blood.
That must be it.”

“What must be it?” Michelle asked, staring at him in amazement.

“Monk Turing was related to Alan Turing, his
blood
relation. He visited England recently and went over the geographic locations of Turing’s life. Alan Turing almost single-handedly broke one of the German Enigma codes. It must have something to do with that.”

Alicia looked through the pages. “Well, that does help. I have some books on Alan Turing and his work. When do you need to know something?”

“Any minute now would be great.”

MICHELLE, NATURALLY ALWAYS DRAWN to the water, decided to go kayaking. It helped her think and she wanted to take another pass by Camp Peary’s river frontage. If they were going to try to break into the place at some point, a little extra reconnoitering couldn’t hurt. When she got down to the boathouse she saw her kayak on the pier.

How did that get here?
she
wondered.

After a half-hour on the water she’d scrutinized the camp from several different angles. The chain link fence wouldn’t be difficult to get past, but after that? For the first time she really thought about what would happen to them if they were caught. And what could they really expect to find amid thousands of acres of mostly undeveloped, forested land? Was that enough to give up her life for? And while it seemed that Sean was having second thoughts, what if he changed his mind and decided to go through with it? Would she stick by him or do the only logical thing and decline? And if he went by himself and was killed, when her presence might have made the difference? Could she live with herself?

These thoughts were interrupted when a boat’s horn sounded nearby. She looked around. The RIB was puttering up to her from behind. Ian Whitfield was at the helm dressed in camie pants and a white T-shirt that revealed his chiseled physique. He was wearing a Yankees ball cap and a friendly expression.

He expertly drew the boat alongside her kayak and then shifted the throttle to neutral, as she slipped her paddle over the RIB’s gunwale to hold her craft steady.

“Ian Whitfield,” he announced, throwing up a hand in greeting.

Michelle tried to hide her surprise.

“Much nicer day to be out than yesterday,” he said cheerfully.

“So you were out in the storm?”

“A little.
I found that kayak you’re sitting in floating downriver. Anything happen?”

“A friend of mine took a dunk in the water. We finally got her out.”

“Good thing. The York’s current can be a little tricky, Miss, uh?”

“Michelle Maxwell. Just call me Michelle.” She glanced across the river. “So how are things on the other side of the York?”

“Don’t recall saying I was from any side of the river.”

“Just things you hear. And I hear more than most. I used to be with the Secret Service. But I’m sure you already knew that.”

He continued to gaze out over the water. “My dream was to play shortstop for the Yankees, but the talent wasn’t up to the dream. Serving your country wasn’t a bad second option.”

Michelle was a little taken aback by this tacit admission of the man’s employment. “Riding on Air Force One and protecting the Man was one of the greatest honors of my life.” She paused and added, “I knew some guys in Delta who were in Vietnam.” He gave her a penetrating stare. “Like I said, I hear more than most.”

He shrugged. “That was a long time ago.”

“But you never forget.”

“Some do; I never have.” He pointed to Babbage Town. “So how goes it on your side of the river?”

“Slowly.”

“I often wondered why they set up shop down here.”

“You mean across from you?”

“You’ve got a partner here with you?” he said, ignoring her question.

“Yes.”

“Monk Turing’s death was unfortunate, but hardly the basis for a murder investigation.”

“You told my partner it was a suicide.”

“No, I told him there had been four other suicides in and around Camp Peary. And I also told him that the FBI had concluded that Turing killed himself.”

“I’m not sure they still believe that. And then there’s Len Rivest.”

“The local paper said he’d had a lot to drink and was found drowned in his bathtub.
Doesn’t sound all that sinister really.”

“Two deaths so close together?”

“People die all the time in all different ways, Michelle.”

He looked, Michelle thought, like a man who knew what he was talking about.

“That almost sounds like a warning,” she said.

“I have no control over how you interpret my words.” He swept his hand toward the other side of the river. “There’s a big federal presence down here and that includes the Navy.
People working for their country, doing dangerous things, risking their lives.
You should understand that. You risked your life for your country.”

“I do understand it,” Michelle said. “And where exactly is this conversation going?”

“Just keep in mind that this stretch of the York can be very dangerous. Whatever you do, don’t lose sight of that. You have a nice day now.”

Michelle slipped her paddle off the gunwale as Whitfield put the throttle in reverse, turned and slowly puttered off. Michelle maneuvered her kayak so that she could continue to watch him as he headed downriver to the Camp Peary boat dock. The man never once looked back.

When he was out of sight Michelle turned around and paddled slowly away. Ian Whitfield had given her a lot to think about. And a good reason to be afraid.

OVER COFFEE IN THE MANSION’S dining room Michelle filled Sean in on her conversation with Ian Whitfield.

“He strikes me as a guy who doesn’t make empty threats.”

“My skin was tingling the whole time he was talking to me.”

“That makes me even less inclined to go over the fence.”

“Then we need to find some new angles to work,” she said. “I’m just not sure what they are.”

“Let’s go over what we know. Monk went to Germany and he died at Camp Peary. There were German POWs kept at Camp Peary during the war. Len Rivest wanted to talk to me about Babbage Town and now he’s dead. He thought there were spies here. Alicia Chadwick was having a fling with Rivest and is Viggie’s guardian. Champ doesn’t have an alibi for Len’s death but we have no evidence he had anything to do with it. Ian Whitfield warned me and then you off and his wife is a dead end. The morgue got blown up.
To mess up the evidence that Rivest was murdered?”

“Wait a minute,” Michelle said. “You suspected that Rivest was murdered because of the absence of towels, bath mat and the plunger.”

“Right.
I told Hayes and he asked the ME to check into whether any trace from the plunger was on the body.”

“And?”

Sean said, “And we hadn’t heard back before the ME died.”

“If the morgue got blown up because someone knew you suspected murder, how would they have found out you did suspect something?”

“Well, Hayes could have carelessly let it slip to someone.”

“Or deliberately told someone,” Michelle countered.

“Why would he do that?”

“Just playing devil’s advocate.
What do you really know about him?”

“He’s a county sheriff.”

“But we don’t know where his true loyalties lie.”

“
You getting
paranoid on me?”

“With Babbage Town and Camp Peary right across the river I’d say you’re totally screwed up if you’re not paranoid.”

Sean nodded. “All we can do is keep chipping away. See if Alicia comes up with anything. Run down the German angle. I don’t see another alternative right now.”

“And maybe it still comes down to us going over that fence,” she said.

After Michelle left Sean pulled out a piece of paper with a phone number on it. He punched in the numbers, and after the beep said, “Valerie,
it’s
Sean Carter. Can I see you?”

As Michelle was walking back to the cottage, she saw something up ahead that made her flat-out sprint.

“What the hell are you doing?” she screamed.

Viggie stopped and stared at her, the wide smile on her face melting away as she let go of the trash bag she was holding and it fell to the ground.

Michelle looked inside her truck. It was spick-and-span clean. She turned to the girl. “How dare you mess with my things? This is my truck. Who gave you permission to go inside my truck and touch my things?
Who!”

Viggie fell back a step.
“I . . . uh.
You told me you could never get it clean, no matter how hard you tried. I thought you’d be happy.”

Michelle grabbed the trash bag and started pulling things out and tossing them back in the truck. She screamed, “This is not trash. Get the hell away from my truck!”

Viggie turned and ran sobbing back to the house. Michelle didn’t seem to notice. She was busy picking things out of the trash bag and layering her floorboards with them.

“Catch you at a bad time?”

She whirled around to see Horatio staring at her and Michelle inwardly groaned.

“Just a misunderstanding,” she said quickly.

“No, I think your meaning was crystal-clear.”

“Get the hell off my back!”

“So do we just leave Viggie in the house crying her guts out, or what?”

Michelle glanced toward the house; Viggie’s wails could be easily heard. Michelle slumped back against the truck and the tennis shoe and banana peel she was holding slipped to the ground. A tear trickled down her face. She sat down on the running board of her truck and stared at the grass.

“I’m sorry,” Michelle said in a low voice. “But she was messing with my stuff. She had no right to do that.”

Horatio came over to stand by the truck. “Well, in a sense you’re absolutely right. People shouldn’t mess with other people’s stuff, but I think Viggie was just trying to help you, or at least she thought she was. You can see that, can’t you?”

Michelle nodded her head curtly.

“Have you thought any more about the hypnosis?”

“I told you, if we come back alive––”

He cut her off. “Right, but let’s skip the histrionics, because I’m not sure you have all that much time left.”

She slowly lifted her head to stare at him. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounded like.”

She stood and tossed the garbage bag inside her truck. “What the hell good would it do? I’m obviously too far gone.”