SUMMATION (11 page)

           Mike looked at the
films. All three were fogged in the area of the upper half of Hans Richter's
head. It was fogged badly enough that one couldn't get a good look at any of
the bones of the skull.
What could possibly cause that
, he wondered.
What
would make film fog like that?
Then, it flashed, and he suddenly had a sick
feeling deep in his stomach. "Oh, my God," he whispered, then "Get
me the Geiger counter". Sue's head jerked up from her table where she was
just about to start on the Fosters.

           "Mike? What's
that?"

           Jenny just stood there
puzzled.

           "Just a second. I
know where it is," Mike told her. "Don't go near the body til I get back.
Don't let ANY one get near him." He ran into the storeroom and unlocked
the metal double door cabinet that secured some of their more expensive
equipment. Who would have believed it. Mike grabbed it and turned it on to
check the battery charge. The gauge read full.

          
Note to self - send
note to maintenance thanking them for attention to details
.

           "Mike?" Sue
again asked. She had put down her scalpel and taken off her gloves before
coming over with Jenny. "What's going on, Mike?"

           "These films were
fogged three times - look at 'em. The only thing I can think of that would fog
those films coming from his body would be-"

           "-radioactivity,"
she finished for him. "Oh God, oh my God."

           Mike turned the volume
up loud on the internal speaker of the Geiger counter, so everyone could hear.
It started out with the sound of a few taps, not unlike hail hitting vinyl
siding. This was the normal background radiation present everywhere. He knew
that would change as he got closer to Han's head. Mike moved closer, as
everyone held their breath....

           The only sound was
that same tap, tap, tapping.

           No change.

           Mike continued moving
closer, until he was literally touching Han's head. There was no change. Everyone
relaxed, and smiled, if only weakly. Mike was certainly relieved as well. No
radioactivity. "Sorry to spook you all." Everyone returned to their
tasks. "Then what the hell caused that fogging?" he asked himself.

          "Let's
try the fluoroscope," Sue suggested. Mike agreed, "Go ahead." The
fluoroscope was similar to an X-Ray machine, but it gave an immediate, live,
moving picture on a screen. Though not as clear and sharp as an X-Ray film, it
showed everything in real time. It allowed the user to shift and rotate the
unit to get different views while watching everything on the screen. Jenny
rolled the unit out. Sue and Mike slid Hans over the end of the table so his
head was hanging clear. The fluoroscope was shaped like a 'C', and they needed
to get his head into the middle, but without the table in the way, interfering.
Jenny flipped the switch and adjusted the settings for penetrating the skull.

          Mike
looked at the screen. "Can you adjust that any?" he asked Jenny. She
tried. No good. "Check his hand - see if that works." She slid the
machine over to the side of the table, and pulled his arm into the space
between the arms of the 'C'. This time, bone was clearly seen, though
overexposed. She adjusted the settings, reducing it for the arm, and it came into
view clearly. "It's not the machine."

          "Well,
what's going on? Something sure as hell is blocking those rays. Jenny, how
about getting the maker of that film on the phone, and ask them what could keep
fogging the film. Then, could you check with the fluoroscope people? I want to
do some checking on my own. Sue, why don't you just go ahead and start on the
Fosters." Two of them turned to attend their tasks, but Sue stood still.

           "Uh, Mike?" It
was Sue. "I don't think Jenny's gonna get anyone. Look at the time."

           He glanced up at the
clock, suddenly realizing how long they had actually been there.

           "Oh, shit. I'm
sorry, never mind." He started to walk away, then turned back. "Just
a second. I've got a number, let me see, should be right - here it is." He
pulled a card taped onto the back of the machine off. "This is his home
number. I talked to him a few days ago about an upgrade. He told me if I had
any problems to call him there anytime. Here you go, Jenny. Just tell him you're
calling for me. He knows me. Tell him it's important or I wouldn't be calling. I'm
gonna check some stuff."

           Mike grabbed a
radiology text from the shelf in his office, then walked down to the lounge to
grab his forty-second cup of coffee. He was still reading when Jenny interrupted
him. "I just got off the phone with your buddy, Dr. LaHoya. The
Fluoroscope rep? He was real nice about it. The only thing he could suggest was
perhaps a strong magnet nearby, or powerful electric line - something throwing
a strong electromagnetic field, perhaps, though he didn't sound convinced. Didn't
sound like he could be too helpful. Actually, he said he couldn't imagine why
you could examine the arm and not the head – it's just a matter of intensity
settings.

           "Then I called
our film supplier. At least they have a 24 hour number. They're international. They
weren't very helpful either. He wondered if we had fogged the whole box of film
accidentally. I told him about the fluoroscope, and he was lost. No idea. He
said we could send a couple in and they would check it with their lab, if we
wanted."

           Mike nodded as she
spoke, looking up to the corner of the room, deep in thought. He kept looking
down at the table, then finally looked back up at her. "Let's try
something. Jenny, go get your boom box and meet me back in the room."

           Sue, listening from
her table a few yards away, looked up. "Uh, Mike - whatcha up to?"

           "Well, just an
idea. I had read the same thing, basically, that Jenny had said. Only some type
of magnetic field, from an electric line, or otherwise, would, or at least
should
,
do this."

           She nodded. "I can
see that. That makes sense. And?"

           "Well, if there
is a strong field there, it should affect the boom box, right? I mean,
interfere with reception?"

           Sue looked skeptical,
but said nothing as Jenny went for the boom box.

           Anyone walking in while Mike was moving the
radio around Mr. Richter's head would have thought the group had gone nuts.

           Up close, only static was heard. When the radio
moved away from his head, music could be heard, relatively clearly (it was never
real good in the morgue because of the reinforced concrete walls around and
above them caused so much interference). Move towards Hans' head, get static.
Away, music.

           "NOW what?" Sue looked more puzzled
now than she had before.

           "No idea," Mike replied, sitting down
on the stool next to Mr. Richter. "I guess I make some phone calls. This
is a new one on me, that's for sure."

           Nearly an hour and half later, Mike returned.
Sue had just finished the father, the rest could wait til morning, now only a
short time away. She had started cleaning up. "What'd you find out, Mike?"

           "Not a whole lot. I even called CDC. They
want a closer look. They asked us to get some frozen sections of the brain, and
send it to them on dry ice. I told them we couldn't, and why. I told them I
would
send some of the samples we did have, though. They also want us to keep him
here. They said if there was any problem, to call them, and they would deal
with the State Department. Can you believe all this?"

           Mike got the samples, divided them, and prepared
them for packing. While doing that, Sue went ahead and made the preparations
for shipping them out.

           "You about ready to go home?" she
asked, about forty minutes later.

           "A week and a half ago," Mike replied.

* * *

           After one final look around, Mike reached up and
flipped off the lights.

           Gerhard Richter sat alone in his room, lights
dimmed, Mozart playing in the background, but softly; loud enough to clearly
hear, but not loud enough to really appreciate the range of emotion projected
by the music.

           His devastation was complete, and not just for
the obvious, paternal reasons. Hans was not just his only son, his only child -
he was the culmination, the final result of literally hundreds of years of
preparation.

           That wasn't quite true. Hans was not his only
child.

           A man of prodigious sexual appetite and vast
resources, he had had no shortage of willing partners over the years, with the
expected consequences. These were always dealt with, however, and discreet
visits to clinics or quiet payoffs eventually resolved each of them.

           But Hans was different.

           His mother, a quiet woman from a family Richter's
family had known for generations, had served as the vessel for the continuation
of Richter's line. A marriage not of love, nor even convenience, it had been
one of duty. A necessity.

           He never saw the marriage as anything more than
this, and over the short years that Hans went from newborn through the lower
grades of school resulted in the tiny woman becoming ever more frail. The son
had followed the father from the beginning, and in that short time, her role
had become less and less meaningful, her very life less relevant.

           The dalliances of the father had not ceased with
the marriage, and there was no relationship other than legal between husband
and wife. Hans, following the father, had developed a disdain for his mother
that had risen to the point that he only tolerated her presence.

           She knew there was no way out of this marriage,
to which she had promised til death did they part, save one, and one day, while
Gerhard was out with Hans, she took it.

           To say the two took it well would not be quite
accurate. She had served her purpose, and now had become an annoyance. An
annoyance that no longer was a problem.

           They both got over it pretty quickly.

           That all being said, Hans was still the
firstborn
.
At least the
official
firstborn. The anointed one that would carry on
the legacy.

           He was the only child that had the Gift. The
Ability. The Future. The potential to bring his line to its Rightful Place. To
rule.

           The time had been right.

           Yes, others in the line had succumbed, but this
was different. He really was to be the One. This just simply could not be. As
far as Gerhard himself had come, he was only setting the stage for Hans. Like
John the Baptist for Jesus. A humbling thought for a man such as him, but the
truth. He had been taught this from birth. He had read it himself in the
Writings. This
simply could not be!

           Outside his room, the staff waited, quiet, not
daring to disturb him. They had already canceled all appointments, shut down the
phone to his room, and dared not even speak above a whisper. They were just as
shocked, just as confused. They also had worked toward this time their entire
lives. They, and their fathers before them. Fathers - for they had never known
their mothers, none of them.

           They were born into this priesthood, and would
die there. It was so. There was no question of choosing otherwise. This was
their destiny, a legacy, passed down a dozen generations, and more before even
that. Some writings traced lineage back before Christ, before Moses, even
before the Garden, but these were not, obviously, documented, and many of the
writings had not survived the Inquisition. They too, could not understand what
had happened.

           Their entire reality, the reason of their very
birth, was now in question. Not only theirs, but the births of their fathers,
grandfathers, and great-grandfathers. The birth of the male offspring being
raised to follow them. What had happened?

           The door opened. "I must go at once to the
United States. Notify the pilots that we need to leave immediately for Rockford,
IL, just outside Chicago. Prepare my things and notify me when you are ready.
You will, of course, accompany me, but only Georg will be on record. The rest
of you will fly separately, and stay in separate quarters, but remain in
immediate contact. We will meet at the compound. In case of problems, I do not
want others to know you are with me."

           "I will see my son."

           H
ans Richter's
father, a man who never waited for anything or anyone, was waiting at the door
when the coroner arrived. His connections both within and outside the German
government had given him access immediate clearances, and in a matter of hours
he was approaching Rockford. Although a relatively small airport, it was set up
for international travel, with customs available. Also, it was well equipped
for its size, with one of its two runways being over two miles long, thanks to
the airport also serving as a FedEx hub.

           He used the time to review the information on
hand, and to find out where his son was, and who was holding him. He also
learned the names of the Mayor, Police Chief, Coroner, and the Chicago embassy
contact who would assist him if requested. By the time he landed, he was
already familiar with the functioning of the coroner's office in Rockford.

           His ground transport was waiting patiently for
him despite the wee hours of the morning. By seven forty-five a.m., he was
walking up the steps to the main entrance. Some of the staff had already come
in early to get started, but the outside doors were locked up.

           Without ever having met her, he knew who Nancy
Vega was by the way she was headed to the door, by the armload of papers in
addition to her briefcase, and her quick and determined walk to the door.
Before she could even say hello, he approached her.

           "Ms. Vega, I presume? I am here to see my
son."

           "Excuse me, can I help you? Who is it you
are here to see?"

           "My son. Hans Richter. I've come a very
long ways, and I want to see my son. Now, please."