by Phil Wheeler
Chapter 16
They arrived at the morgue about 10 minutes later. The idea of seeing his dead friend shook him, and his stomach was churning, he thought he was going to be sick. Walking down the poorly lit hallway of the basement morgue lent an eerie quality to the proceedings, so Dylan jumped, startled by the sudden sound of the detective's voice. “Have you ever done anything like this before?”
“No.”
“Alright. Let me try to make it a little easier. The body will be covered in a sheet, and the attendant will pull it back so that you can look at the face. Just look at the face, don't think about it.” He said, obviously trying to help.
“OK.”
They entered the double swinging doors with the words City Morgue marked on a sign above them. The place was all stainless steel and tile, and had an antiseptic smell to it. The detective spoke quietly to the attendant on duty, and they were lead into an inner room full of empty metal gurneys and a wall lined with 3 x 3 metal doors. The attendant walked to one of the doors and pulled it out. A long metal rack like a bed slide forward to reveal a body covered in a clean white sheet. The rack was barely long enough for the body it contained and the sheet did not fully cover the body; the feet were exposed and he saw a tag tied to a toe. The attendant stepped to the side to allow Dylan and the detective access, and then pulled one corner of the sheet down to reveal the face of his friend. “It this Robert Fuller?”, Detective Robinson asked.
Dylan stared at the face that greeted him. Composed in death, it hardly looked to be the laughing, clowning man he'd grown to know. The skin was a pale blue-white; cold and sterile looking. At the right temple was small hole, surrounded by a torn, bloated ring of flesh. The edges appeared to be darkened, and slightly charred. There was very little blood. “Yes, that's Robert Fuller. I don’t understand, why does that wound look so odd?”
The detective looked at Dylan before he spoke. “This is the first time you've seen an actual gunshot wound, isn't it?”
Yes, it's not what I expected.”
“This isn't like in the movies”, said Detective Robinson, “real point-blank gunshot wounds feature injuries caused by the hot gases released from the muzzle of the gun. As a result of the barrel being firmly held against skin over tough bone gases from the muzzle are forced under the skin, causing it to balloon out and tear and leaving a star-like tearing wound in the skin at the area of contact. There may be burns and soot marks at the entrance wound, also. The exit wound can be very messy.”
Dylan took one last look at his friend, and turned away. He hadn't looked beyond the side facing him, he did not want to see the open wound where the bullet had made its bloody exit.
Chapter 17
The next few days passed in a blur. Robert's parents came up from Columbus, and decided to stay at a local hotel. The idea of being in Robert's house was too much for them. Arrangements were made, and the funeral would be later that day, with a simple burial following.
They were all gathered in Dylan's living room. Robert's parents sat on the couch, a brother and sister had come from far ends of the country and sat quietly in chairs set up around the room. Donald Mason stood by the fireplace, head down in thought.
“Dylan”, Robert’s mother spoke, the strain obvious in her voice, “This is terrible. We can't even have a priest come in for the ceremony or bury him in a proper graveyard.”
“I am sorry”, he said, “But I did the best I could.” Robert was a nominal Catholic, but his parents were a generation older and firm in their beliefs. It was heartbreaking to them that, as a suicide, his friend could not be given lasts rites or buried in a Catholic cemetery. Dylan had arranged a service at his local non-denominational church, and the body would be buried in a small open cemetery. At least Robert would have someplace for his remains to rest.
“Mrs. Fuller”, it was Donald Mason who spoke. “I truly am sorry about all this. Robert was a friend, as well as my employee.”
“Thank you, sir”, said Mr. Fuller, “it's just that – it's so hard to believe that Robert would shoot himself. It was just not like him. Thank you, again, for all that you have done.”
“Please, don't say another word about it.” Donald Mason had stepped in immediately, arranging a place for Robert to be buried, paying for it and all the expenses of the funeral. He even paid for the motel room that the Fullers were staying in.
The day continued and conversation turned to other topics as the family reminisced about childhood memories and times spent together. After a while, Dylan found himself standing alone with Donald Mason. He looked at his friend, wanting to say something but not knowing what to say.
“Dylan, I understand that you canceled your trip. I know it was important to you. So, what are your plans?'
“Right now? To get through this day. He smiled at his friend, and continued. “I plan on flying out next Friday. No sense in waiting. It won't change anything, and I need to get back to work. It will take my mind off of all this.”
“True.” said his friend. There was a silence, and then Mason spoke in a conversational manner. “I've been meaning to ask you something. Did Robert give you anything?”
“Give me anything? No, like what?”
“Some papers, or maybe a file. It could have been a disc.”
“No. Nothing. Why do you ask?
“It's probably nothing, it's just that his research files are missing from his work computer.”
Nothing more was said, and they left for the funeral home shortly afterward. He would say his good-byes to his friend.
Chapter 18
The funeral was over, the parents and siblings all back in their respective motel rooms. Dylan and Donald Mason had said their good-byes at the funeral home, and he'd driven to his house. He had much on his mind, and things were not fitting together for him. Detective Robinson had closed the case, ruling it a suicide, but he knew his friend and couldn't accept that as an answer. What did that leave? Nothing had been taken from the house, nothing was disturbed. A sandwich and open can of Coke were found on the counter in the kitchen and Rosie had been locked in the back room. It didn't add up, but the only other answer was too ridiculous to be contemplated. Murder? It was true that Donald Mason had reported files missing, but what could have Robert found out that would warrant his death?
Pulling into the driveway of his home, he exited the car and started to walk up the concrete path that lead to his front door – and stopped dead in his tracks. He had left the front porch light on, and even from where he was standing he could see that his front door was open. Not wishing to confront a possible assailant still inside, Dylan took out his cell phone and dialed 911.
Chapter 19
The alarm on the stove began to chime, indicating that his tea was finished brewing. Instead of getting up to turn it off Dylan just sat in his chair. He felt numbed by the events that conspired to twist and turn his life into chaos, too many events and too much tragedy had him feeling more than a little unsettled. First had been the success of his meeting with Samuelson Ltd and meeting Tomiko. Tomiko had not been far from his thoughts since the first moment he'd meet her. There was the quick decision on his part to leave for Japan, totally out of character for him, yet he had not regretted it for one moment. Then had come the shocking death of his friend Robert Fuller, and his being asked to identify the body. It had been traumatic and horrible, and he was still shaken by it. Finally, the break-in at his home. Any one of these events taken by itself was enough to be unsettling, but taken together they had been close to overwhelming. The calming influence of his friend Donald Mason had helped a great deal. Their discussion had not been out of the ordinary, it just seemed to help talking with him. It was Mason who had convinced him to go to Japan.
“What did the police say?” Donald had come as soon as he'd received the phone call from Dylan, and was helping to clean up the house. It took them a couple of hours, but the p
lace was starting to look like his old place, again.
“They believe that it was just a burglary. Some stuff was taken – my Hi Def TV, some cash I had on my dresser and my old High School class ring – but, I just don't know what to think.”
“I don't follow. What else could it have been?”, his friend asked.
“Probably nothing, it's just that my life is boring and stuff like this doesn't happen to me. I feel so out of control.”
Donald looked at his young friend. “You need to take it easy. You've had a string of things happen to you, some good and some not so good, but that's what life is about – change and unpredictability. You will get through this.”
“Thanks, I appreciate all you've done. Not just coming over here and helping me clean up, but for Robert and his family, and just in general. You have been a good friend.” Dylan was starting to feel better. His friend had a calming effect on him.
“Dylan, that's what friends are for.”
...The chiming finally roused Dylan from his thoughts and he got up from his seat to go to the kitchen. He hit the chime button, and contemplated his cup of tea. It would be overly strong, but he had neither the time nor the disposition to make another cup. It would have to do, because in just a little over a half hour he would be leaving for the airport to begin his journey to Japan, and he still needed to finish packing.
Chapter 20
35 minutes later, he was sitting in the car of his lab assistant, David, on the way to the airport. “I really appreciate your taking me, Dave. It was kind of short notice.”
“No problem. Heck, I'm getting an all-expenses paid vacation with you gone. It's the least I can do.”, Dave cheerfully answered. While Dylan was in Japan Samuelson Ltd was covering the wages of his assistant. It was a nice gesture on their part.
Arriving at the airport, Dylan thanked his assistant, grabbed his bags, and headed for the terminal. Finding his airline he quickly checked his luggage, retaining only a single carry-on bag with what he'd deemed appropriate for the long trip. Two books, some candy, his tablet, and his passport headed the list, it was going to be a long day and he wanted to be prepared. He passed through airport security and walked to his boarding area, found a seat and looked at his watch. He still had 25 minutes before he was scheduled to board. He took out his tablet, and using the connection provided by the local Wi-Fi he connected to the internet, It had been almost a week since he'd last had the time to check his Email and his in-box was full.
Most could wait, many were just junk mail, but an Email from Robert caught his eye. It was dated the day before his death. Dylan clicked on it, and it opened to reveal a short message and a paperclip icon signifying that there was an attachment:
Dylan,
If you are reading this, it means that something has happened to me. (Just because you're paranoid, it doesn't mean they are not out to get you.) I don't completely understand what is going on, but I know that it is much bigger than I thought. The file I have attached is in ZIP64 format, and is encrypted and password protected. I know that you will be able to figure out the password.
The attachment contains a completed copy of the Voynich Manuscript. I can't begin to tell you the importance of this, but the manuscript must be put into the right hands. I believe that only the news services can deal with this without cover-up. You need to blow the lid off of this.
Your Friend, Robert Go Zips
The attachment read VM.ZIP. Maximum size for an archive or individual file in ZIP64 was 264x1 bytes, 16 EiB, fortunately this one was nowhere near that big. He clicked the on the attachment to open it and he was greeted by a request for a password. Dylan knew that a Zip file supported a simple password-based symmetric encryption system, but it was known to be seriously flawed and particularly vulnerable to plaintext attacks. He also knew that his friend used a system much more difficult to crack; triple DES encryption, Digital Certificate-based encryption and authentication, and an archive header encryption, but Dylan had no clue what to put in because Robert had not given him a password. Trying a few obvious ones proved to be a futile effort. Simple ones, like his or Robert's birthday, did no good. More complicated passwords, like words that Robert used a lot, proved no more helpful. He wasn't exactly sure how to proceed, and didn't really feel up to it, anyway. Besides, the airport Wi-Fi was so slow and it would take forever to download the file. It would have to wait until he got to Japan and he had access to his laptop that was tucked safely away in his luggage.
Chapter 21
The room was large, and dimly lit by the pewter, fluted sconces that hung from the walnut paneling on the walls. A plush carpet clothed the floor, soaking up any errant sound, and heavy curtains covered the single window in the room. The furniture was massive, as if to indicate the power of the occupant of this place, with an ornate teak desk dominating the location in front of the window. On the walls hung a few pictures, and some expensive-looking brass pieces – a sextant, a compass, and a bell – covered in the patina of age. A large fire burned in the fireplace, giving the room warmth that belied the balmy weather that waited outside.
Two chairs sat in front of the desk, both finished in fine, soft leather, and two men sat in those chairs. Neither would have drawn undo attention or a second look from a casual onlooker. They were both dressed in mid-priced suits, white shirts and a tie. They looked like two professional business men. The chair behind the desk was high-backed, with large armrests, and covered in the finest of leather. The occupant of that chair easily dominated the chair, the desk, and the room.
“Gentleman, I understand that things are moving to a head. It would seem that all the pieces are in place. Now, all that needs be done is to allow them to come to fruition.”
“Yes, sir.”, the man in the chair to the right of the desk addressed the individual sitting in front of him.
“And, when will we have an answer?”
The man in the chair chose his words carefully. It was not wise to get your facts wrong when speaking to the head of the organization. “I should know more by the end of the day, sir.”
Sitting back into his plush chair, the leader of the group that had no official sanction or name, that recognized no official boundaries, and whose existence was known to only those few who needed to know, gazed across the desk at his two subordinates. He was an imposing man by any standards, over 6 feet in height, he was slender, but not thin, with a full shock of graying hair residing over penetrating cobalt blue eyes. Women would have said that he was handsome if he had cared, but women were not attracted to this man for just his looks. Everything about him said 'power' – from his commanding physical presence to his innate ability to dominate a room merely by walking into it.
“I would like be notified as soon as Dr. Teague leaves for Japan. I understand why Fuller is dead, but I wish that it could have somehow been avoided. It is a pity.”
The second man now spoke, “Yes sir, but it was not avoidable. I believe that he had found out the truth, and would not have kept quiet.”
“Still, any death, no matter how necessary, is regrettable. Thank you, gentleman, that will be all for now.”
The two man rose from their chairs and exited the room, the door closing silently behind them.
The big man sat silent for a moment, then quickly standing he moved to the window behind his desk and pulled back the curtain. It was a beautiful day outside, the sun was shining and a light breeze blew the few clouds around as if to chase them from the sky. Everything seemed to be moving in the right direction, but he hadn't gotten as far as he had by leaving things to chance. The stakes were too high, nothing short of complete successful would do. He closed the curtain and returned to his desk.
Opening a desk drawer he removed a report and placed it on his desk. Turning to the first page he read down through, concentrating on the transcript of the phone conversations between Dylan Teague and Robert Fuller. No mention of Fuller's wo
rk was ever talked about in more than a very general way. Still, the paper files were all missing, and the information on the computer in Fuller's office had been removed. No, not removed, but degaussed. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to insure that the information was unrecoverable. He thought about what that meant, data was stored on a magnetic media such as a hard drives by making very small areas called magnetic domains change their magnetic alignment to line up with the direction of an applied magnetic field. Degaussing leaves the domains in random patterns with no preference to orientation, thereby rendering previous data unrecoverable. Many forms of generic magnetic storage media can be reused after degaussing, but for certain forms of computer data storage, such as a hard drive, degaussing renders the magnetic media unusable. This is due to the devices having an infinitely variable read/write head positioning mechanism which relies on special servo control data that is meant to be permanently embedded into the magnetic media. This servo data is written onto the media a single time at the factory using special-purpose servo writing hardware. The servo patterns are normally never overwritten by the device for any reason and are used to precisely position the read/write heads over data tracks on the media. Degaussing indiscriminately removes not only the stored data but also removes the servo control data, and without the servo data the device is no longer able to determine where data is to be read or written on the magnetic medium.