Equinox

by Michael White

  'Mom … I mean. .' Jo frowned. 'Isn't all that alchemy stuff simply a load of baloney?'

  'Just hear me out, OK?' Laura said.

  Philip and Jo looked at each other and fell silent.

  'Good. Well, this is the deal. Turns out that one of the connections alchemists cared about was the link between humanity and the universe. Most alchemists tried to draw parallels between the human body, the planets, the stars and the movement of the heavens. They believed that the human form was a reflection of the celestial sphere. That God created these patterns — these repeat images, if you like — and that it was their job to unravel the links. Almost a sacred duty.'

  'And you think this has something to do with the murders?' Philip looked completely confused.

  'Alchemists believed they could only make gold if they discovered the legendary Philosopher's Stone, a magical substance that when united with any base metal could turn that metal into pure, solid gold. The Philosopher's Stone could only be discovered by the noble of spirit, by an alchemist who truly understood the holistic aspect of the universe and who could free his mind to flow with the Universal Spirit. Crucially, the alchemist drew links between metals and parts of the body'

  'Don't tell me,' Philip interrupted. 'They connected gold with the heart and silver with the brain?'

  'Ten bonus points to Mr Bainbridge. But there's a whole heap more. Alchemists believed that the body and the celestial sphere mirror each other. So the planets may also be associated with the organs of the body. .'

  'Mom? So let me get this straight,' Jo said. 'You've spent all afternoon finding alchemical links between — God, what was it? Gold, the sun and the freakin' heart? Where does Santa come into all this?'

  'The point is,' Laura said, 'there is quite possibly a connection between all this hocus-pocus and the murders. Simply because the murderer believes in it. It doesn't matter if it's all complete bullshit.'

  Jo looked rather shamefaced. 'OK, mom. .'

  'There's more.' Laura replied. 'If you want to hear it, of course.'

  'Oh please!' Jo rolled her eyes.

  Laura grinned. 'If you thought what I just told you was weird, here comes the really kooky bit. Some alchemists devoted their entire lives to the thankless task of trying to produce the Philosopher's Stone: blending chemicals together to make a magical substance that they believed could transmute base metals into gold. It has consumed and spat out centuries of hope, from ancient times to. . well, some say there are still alchemists out there today. But the point is, the effort expended to make the Stone was incredible. The adept had to follow a set of instructions that came from many different sources and they spent literally months, sometimes years on a single experiment.'

  'Anyway, as I was reading this stuff I started to wonder what it was that guided them. Then I thought about the most important connections the alchemists made and it struck me that most of them must have also been astrologers. I was quite into astrology when I was a student. I snapped out of it pretty quick, though.' Laura stole a glance at Jo who was shaking her head. 'Alchemists did everything by the stars. Each stage of the process was undertaken on particular dates and at significant astrological alignments.'

  Laura's audience was silent.

  ‘For the alchemists, one particular day of the year stands out as the most important. The vernal equinox.'

  The what?' Jo asked.

  'The vernal equinox, the first day of spring, when the days start to get longer than the nights,' Philip said.

  'Correct. Alchemists viewed it as the most auspicious day for starting new plans. It was the time when most of them would begin a fresh set of experiments to produce the Philosopher's Stone. It falls on 20 March, two days ago — the day of the first murder.'

  'So what are you thinking, Laura?' Philip asked after a few moments. 'It's, well… creepy, I suppose, but how does it help us catch whoever is killing these women?'

  'I've not stopped thinking about that since I left the library today. I don't know whether it can help right away, but it could prevent more murders.'

  'How?'

  'Well, think about it. Monroe told you that Forensics believed Rachel Southgate was killed on the evening of the twentieth. That was when the sun entered Aries and the Earth passed through the vernal equinox. For the murderer it was a new beginning, the start of a project.'

  'Nice,' Jo exclaimed. 'Good project.'

  'The point I'm making,' Laura went on, 'is that the timing of the second murder probably has an astrological connection as well. God knows what. But if it does, and if there's a planned third or fourth murder, they could be linked with precise dates and times too.'

  'Makes some sort of sense, I suppose,' Philip muttered.

  'Of course it does,' Laura snapped. 'Trouble is, I don't know the half of it.'

  'Well, don't look at me,' Jo exclaimed. 'I'm a mathematician.'

  'Beg your pardon,' Laura laughed.

  'But… I was about to say, you may be in luck.'

  'Oh?'

  'Tom is depressingly into the whole thing. I don't get it, such a bright young chap in all other ways,' Jo concluded, putting on a plummy British accent. 'And he's supposed to be coming over. Any moment now'

  'He is?' Philip asked.

  'Hope you don't mind, dad. He wanted to see how I was.'

  Philip threw up his hands. 'No problem at all.' 'We'll get him to sing for his supper,' Laura said.

  Tom arrived twenty minutes later. He looked surprisingly healthy apart from the aluminium cast encasing two fingers of his left hand which had hairline fractures from the car accident. A rugby Blue at Oriel, studying medicine, he was six feet three inches tall and weighed more than two hundred pounds without an ounce of fat on him. Square-jawed and with large blue eyes and well-cut wavy brown hair, he was strikingly handsome. Tom sat next to Jo on the sofa and Laura explained what was going on as Philip went off to the kitchen to get a drink.

  'Wow,' Tom said after Laura's monologue. 'Wow. And this is for real?'

  'Afraid so,' Philip said as he came back into the room and handed Tom a glass of cranberry juice. 'Laura's spared none of the gruesome details, I imagine.'

  'I hope not!' Tom laughed. 'So, you think the murderer is planning his moves according to an astrological timetable?'

  'I'm not sure yet.'

  'But you know for sure the killer committed the first murder around the time of the vernal equinox and left a gold coin and. .' He paused. 'Removed the girl's heart. The second murder was less than twelve hours later: that time the killer left a silver coin and he took the victim's brain.'

  'Correct.'

  'Well, you're right about the connections. The brain is linked with silver and with the moon. So I would think it's obvious that the moon entered Aries at the time of the second murder.'

  'What do you mean?' Jo asked.

  'Of course,' Laura exclaimed. 'Why didn't I think of that?'

  'Think of what?' said Philip.

  'Well, it's obvious now. The sun, the moon and the planets all move across the sky, don't they?' Laura explained. 'The movement of the sun through the zodiac over the year gives meaning to the twelve star signs. Is that right, Tom?' He nodded. 'So,' she went on, 'during the first month of the year, the sun is seen in Capricorn, then in Aquarius, Pisces and so on. The sun enters Aries sometime late on — what? The twentieth or early on the twenty-first of March. Which is also around the date of the vernal equinox. After that it goes on to Taurus and all the others. But the planets and the moon can also enter and leave the star sign during the month.'

  'But that doesn't happen all that often,' Tom added. 'The moon and the planets might be the other side of the sky all through the month, but sometimes they succeed each other into the star sign.'

  'Yeah, b-' Jo began. Tom was there before her. 'I know what you're going to say, Jo. We've had this discussion before. You think it's all nonsense, but you have to differentiate between real astrology and the rubbish printed in women's magazines and
r />   Sunday supplements. That stuff is based on nothing but the imagination of the hack who writes it. A properly trained astrologer deals with a far more complex set of ideas — a consideration of the effect of all the heavenly bodies, not just the sun.'

  'The implication being,' Philip remarked, 'that these other heavenly bodies sometimes follow the sun into the sign of the zodiac and contribute to the astrological influence?'

  'Exactly.'

  'So it might well be that the moon went into Aries soon after Aries became the current sign and that's the link with the date and time of the second murder.'

  'I would put money on it.'

  'Yeah, but hold on. . You'll probably shoot me down in flames, but isn't there an elemental error here? These star signs were worked out — what? Ten thousand years ago?'

  'Well, not quite that long,' Tom replied. 'Astrology began in Mesopotamia about 4,000 BC, I think.'

  'OK, whatever! Six thousand years ago. The thing is, the constellations can't be the same as they were then because, relative to the Earth, the stars move quite a bit during a few thousand years. The constellations are not the same shape they were during ancient times and they are certainly not in the same places they were in then.'

  'Well, actually, Jo, it's irrelevant,' Laura said.

  'Why?'

  'Because it only matters to tabloid astrologers.' Jo looked bewildered.

  'Well, think about it. If everything has shuffled along one sign or more, it doesn't matter except to those who try to attach characteristics to people born under a particular sign. You know … if you're an Aquarius you're unconventional and have weak ankles. All that crap.'

  'The celestial shift is something that real astrologers take into account. Laura's right,' Tom interjected.

  'But then the vernal equinox is no longer in Aries.' Philip said.

  'It doesn't matter unless you subscribe to Sunday-supplement astrology' Jo sighed. 'I guess.'

  Laura grinned. 'It's OK, doll, you're just a mathematician.'

  Jo laughed resignedly and took a sip of her soup.

  'Anyway,' Philip added, 'our murderer appears to be inspired by astrology. We only need to concentrate on what he believes, not what we think of it all.'

  'All right,' Laura said, putting her hands up. 'Let's get back to the real issue. Tom? You reckon it's likely the moon moved into Aries at the time of the second murder?'

  'Well, it's easy to find out.' 'It is?'

  'Just look it up at

  almanac.com

  I'm a subscriber.' 'Oh my God!' Jo said.

  Tom was already walking over to a computer on the desk close to the sofa. 'Is this on-line?' he asked.

  'Yeah. I've got ADSL,' Philip said and joined him at the terminal.

  They brought up Google and Tom typed in almanac.com

  It appeared a second later and he put in his personal ID. Then a new menu appeared. Along the left-hand column was a list of questions, with empty answer boxes.

  Laura had followed them over, but Jo remained on the sofa.

  'I just need to put in a few figures,' Tom said. 'It's a cool site, software that calculates the location of any planet and the moon at any time between now and the year 3000.' He hit the keyboard. 'OK, so, the moon, date: 21 March 2006.' He followed this with a few more numbers and answered a succession of questions before clicking on SEARCH.

  The response came back with surprising speed.

  'Cool,' Tom said.

  'What is?' Laura asked, unable to make head or tail of the data.

  'The moon entered Aries at 3.47 a.m. on 21 March.'

  'That could be exactly the time of the second murder.' Philip was clearly impressed.

  'Monroe was sure of the time?' Laura asked Philip.

  'He said his forensic team believed that the murder had taken place between four and six hours before I got there. That was just before 8.30, so the murder must have been sometime between 2.30 and 4.30 a.m.'

  'Tom, with this software you can track any of the planets as well as the moon?' Laura asked. 'Yes.'

  'We need to find out if any of the planets are going to enter Aries, and when. Can we go through each one?'

  'I can do better than that,' Tom replied. 'I can tell you the movements of all the planets as far into the future as you want.'

  'Don't exaggerate, Thomas,' Jo said lightly. 'Only until the year AD 3000.'

  Philip gave a snort of laughter, but Tom ignored her and tapped the keys, answering a succession of questions at the prompt. After a few moments he hit the SEARCH prompt again and pushed his chair back from the terminal. 'OK, do your stuff,' he said.

  It took longer this time, but after perhaps twenty seconds a new screen filled with diagrams and lists of numbers appeared.

  'What does it tell us?' Laura asked impatiently.

  'I'm getting there’ Tom replied. He scrolled down, peering at the screen, then closed his eyes, lost in concentration. 'Jesus!'

  'What?' Philip said.

  'This is really something.'

  'Will you please. .' Laura hissed.

  'Sorry. Every so often you get a conjunction of planets-'

  'When the planets line up?' Philip interrupted.

  'Yeah, when two or more heavenly bodies — the moon and the planets — appear to line up as seen from the Earth. Getting a conjunction of two planets or a planet and the moon, say, happens quite often — that's called a three-body conjunction. Getting a four-body conjunction is rarer — it only happens every few years. A week from today, early on 31 March, at a few minutes after midnight to be precise, the moon and three planets will be almost perfectly arranged to form a five-body conjunction with the sun. That is so rare it's only happened maybe ten times during the past thousand years or so.'

  Laura was the first to react. 'So that means three planets are going to enter Aries during the course of the next few days?'

  'Yep.'

  'You can find out which?'

  'I already have,' Tom replied and pointed to the screen.

  'Venus, Mars and Jupiter, in that order.' 'When?'

  'Jupiter, just after midnight on 31 March; Mars, a few hours earlier, the evening of 30 March; and Venus … let me see,' he muttered, scrolling down. 'Venus passes into Aries tonight, at eight minutes past nine.'

  Chapter 14

  Cambridge: the evening of 10 August 1690

  John Wickins had come up to Cambridge in 1663 and now it was as familiar to him as his mother's face. He knew every turn of every lane, every plant and every weed that sprang forth from the paving stones on his regular walks. He knew every college Fellow and each townsman who crossed his path. He had enjoyed many of the same routines for almost three decades: he bought his books at the same shop, filled his inkwell from the same stationer's, had his clothes tailored in precisely the same way by the same, now elderly tailor, and he purchased his snuff from the same dealer who had first procured it for him twenty or more years earlier. But now he was leaving, and the place no longer seemed the same.

  Wickins had been in great haste, and had hired a horse to make the journey back from Oxford that day. Arriving at dusk, he had handed the reins to

  the stable boy and the horse had been fed and watered in the college stables. It was an unusual luxury to allow himself, but he had big plans and he could not waste time on overcrowded snail-like coaches. There was no denying that he was excited by the prospect of the new position offered him, the rectorship of St Mary's, Oxford. It was an opportunity he could not let pass. Now was the time to make the break from Cambridge and all that his life there entailed.

  Of course, that meant leaving Isaac Newton. Wickins and Newton had had a very odd relationship. They had met during their first term, each of them miserable and less than enamoured with the majority of the other students. Each had arrived expecting to fall into a challenging whirlpool of learning, but instead they had found that very few students cared for anything but drinking, gambling and whoring. He and Newton had similar backgrounds: each h
ad been raised within the lower gentry. Wickins's father had been a schoolmaster, Newton's father had died before Newton was born and his mother had married a local vicar. Neither of them had the slightest thing in common with most of the young men who had gone up in their year. Many of these had been the sons of wealthy landowners and successful merchants; but even those clots had been better than the laziest and stupidest of all students — the vile offspring of the nobility whose families paid for the academic success of their sons.

  Wickins crossed the quad of Trinity College and entered under the archway leading to his staircase. He was walking slowly, almost as though he was trying to put off the inevitable. He had experienced some good times here in this great city. He could admit that most of his life had been a mundane routine comprised of study, then his theological researches. But these had been interspersed with times helping Newton with his scientific work, copying texts for him, assisting whenever he could. During those periods, he could tell himself with confidence that he had come closer to the great Isaac Newton than any other man had ever come. Then there had been times when physical need had brought them a unique intimacy, actions about which they never spoke and kept locked away from the world. And, of course, there was always the real purpose to his living in such close proximity to the man, the reason he had first been encouraged to meet Newton and befriend him. Newton, he had grown to understand, was the most dangerous man alive.

  Wickins reached the door to their rooms, fished his key from the pocket of his tunic and turned it in the lock. The hallway and the rooms leading off to left and right were cast in gloom. Warm air blew through an opened window at the end of the hall. The door to his bedchamber was closed, but the one to the right, leading into Newton's room and beyond that to his laboratory, stood ajar. It was unusually quiet. The only sound came from a pair of thrushes nesting in an elm tree just beyond the opened window.

  Now that he was there, Wickins suddenly experienced a great swell of uncertainty about his plans. This was his home. He felt secure here. Was he doing the right thing by throwing it all away and chasing after a new life in Oxford?