The Stepping Maze

by Kevin Tumlinson

  “Why can’t you just do your job and let the FBI do theirs?” Jeffrey said, his voice fierce.

  Kotler shook his head. “I don’t have a good answer for you,” he said. “For a while, I was thinking the same thing. I was going to walk away from it, after ...”

  He paused. He hadn’t told Jeffrey about the events in Antarctica, and about the death of Gail McCarthy. He couldn’t tell his brother. Details of all of it were still classified.

  “It’s just … this came to me,” Kotler continued. “This work, with Historic Crimes, with the FBI. I’m … I’m needed. I was going to leave, but I’m needed.”

  “I’m sure they could get along fine without you,” Jeffrey scoffed.

  Kotler felt himself growing angry. “Look, it’s my work. Part of it, anyway. And I do think about leaving it, sometimes. But for now, it feels important. It ... it feels like something I have to be a part of. I’m sorry you feel jealous about this, but ...”

  “I’m not jealous, you idiot!” Jeffrey shouted.

  Kotler blinked. His brother was always so level-headed, so calm. Of the two of them, he was less emotional by far. Hearing him this upset was new. It was disturbing.

  “I’m worried about you,” Jeffrey said, still tense and angry.

  “Worried?” Kotler hadn’t even considered this. His relationship with Jeffrey had always been a little strained. They cared about each other, but it was in that tolerant way that brothers tended to care. Aloof, distant, reluctant to share their feelings. Despite sharing parents and a bit of childhood history, Kotler and Jeffrey had never had much in common. The gap had only widened when Kotler left for college.

  And Jeffrey seemed to disdain everything Kotler did, everything he was. He’d even gone so far as to live a lifestyle exactly opposite of Kotler’s—a silent judgment of every choice Kotler had made with his own life. Or that was how Kotler had always read it.

  What if he’d been wrong?

  “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.”

  “Oh, fine,” Jeffrey said, laughing and shaking his head. “Shot at. Kidnapped. Manipulated. You’re just great.”

  Kotler shook his head. “I can’t deny any of that,” he said. “But there are things you don’t know.”

  Jeffrey studied him for a moment, then tossed the Styrofoam cup into a large trash bin. “I need to get back to work,” he said, and then he marched out of the room and back into the bustle of the restoration.

  Kotler called after him, trying to calm him, to open the conversation again. But it was too late. He knew Jeffrey would dig in, refusing to talk.

  He needed time.

  It wasn’t just about worry for his brother, Kotler knew. It was about Jeffrey’s family. It was about Kotler’s life intruding on Jeffrey’s, cracking the shell of what his brother had created. Marring something beautiful.

  Kotler left, walking back out into the cool and sunny day. Denzel was parked nearby, and Kotler climbed into the passenger seat of his car.

  “Didn’t go well?” Denzel asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

  Kotler shook his head. “He needs time. He needs to feel safe again.”

  Denzel nodded. “What about you?”

  Kotler smiled, “I could use better coffee,” he said, holding up the Styrofoam cup.

  They pulled away, merging with traffic.

  “So,” Denzel said. “You and Ludlum.”

  “It’s … complicated,” Kotler hedged.

  “Everything with you is complicated,” Denzel said. “But I get it. Just … you know the old adage? Don’t crap where you eat?”

  Kotler grinned. “I’ve heard it slightly different.”

  “I’m trying to offer some advice here, Kotler,” he said, pained.

  “I get it,” Kotler said, nodding. “Liz and I have talked about it. A little. We’ll take it slow.”

  “Is that because you want it to work out? Or because you’re still cautious, after Gail?”

  Kotler didn’t answer, and instead watched the streets go by. The homes here, in his brother’s neighborhood, were nice. Quaint. It was a middle-class neighborhood, with no idea there was a multi-millionaire living among them, using his wealth to make the place better.

  Jeffrey was a hero, Kotler realized. Unsung, unknown, unpraised. Maybe the best kind of hero.

  “All that money that Dr. Wiley made,” Kotler said, after a moment. “What’s going to happen to it?”

  “It’s your money,” Denzel shrugged. “We have the paper trail and everything we need for evidence. This has to go to trial, and we’ll have to show that Wiley’s actually guilty of stealing from you. That’s going to be a slow process. But once he’s found guilty, that money will go to you. Do whatever you want with it.”

  Kotler nodded. “I can wait. Actually, I don’t have to wait. I’m thinking I’ll set up a foundation. Something that helps neighborhoods like this, maybe. Something that makes life normal and safe for good people. I’ll put up the funds now, and later I’ll add that money to the pot, once it comes my way.”

  Denzel was quiet for a beat, then said, “Good idea.”

  Another few miles passed and the two of them made a stop for better coffee. When they were rolling again, Kotler asked, “What about Dr. Wiley? Did we find out what he was up to? Who he was working with?”

  Denzel sipped his latte and said, “We found the second Heisenberg machine in his lake house. Still no idea who he was dealing with. We assume he delivered the pages he took out of your great-grandfather’s manuscript, but there’s no way to know what else he handed over. Wiley isn’t talking. I think he’s afraid.”

  “For his family?” Kotler asked.

  “For himself,” Denzel scowled. “He was planning to leave them. He told us that much. He had a plan in place. If we hadn’t gotten to him when we did, he was going to disappear. Start a new life. Whatever deal he was making, it was going to make the money he’d stolen from you look like pocket change. Billions.”

  “Billions?” Kotler asked, astonished. He shook his head. “That’s not good,” he said.

  “I’d take billions,” Denzel said, smirking.

  “I mean, if someone was willing to give him billions of dollars for what he had or what he’d learned, it can’t be good for anyone.”

  Denzel considered this. “You’re right,” he said. “We’ll keep working on it. Wiley will break eventually.”

  Kotler hoped so. But he couldn’t help thinking that whatever it was that he’d helped Wiley to unlock, it was something very, very dangerous.

  “Shiva,” Kotler said quietly.

  “What?” Denzel asked.

  Kotler shook his head, tried to let the tension ease. Whatever it was, people were working on the problem. For now, their immediate issues were settled. Jeffrey and his family were safe. Kotler was safe. Liz was … Liz.

  “Nothing,” Kotler said, shaking his head and smiling. “It’ll keep.”

  “Looks like things are pretty clear right now,” Denzel said. “You going back to the dig? To Egypt?”

  Kotler raised his eyebrows. “I can’t believe I hadn’t considered that.” He thought for a moment. “Maybe? I actually have invitations from other projects, plus some speaking engagements. I also have a book to finish. My publisher has been trying to reach me. I think I may be in trouble.”

  Denzel nodded. “That kind of trouble usually works out for you. Sounds like a busy schedule, though. That’s good. Keeping busy means keeping out of real trouble.”

  Kotler didn’t respond, but instead sipped his coffee and watched Jeffrey’s neighborhood pass out of view. Manhattan loomed before them, and in a short time, they were surrounded by the concrete canyons and the constant activity of the city. He felt a sort of relief, as they closed on his apartment.

  Whatever he did next, and wherever he went from here, Kotler decided, he was up for it. This wasn’t exactly the life he’d planned on, but he was needed. Maybe now more than ever.

  Shiva, wh
atever it turned out to be, was surely coming.

  A Note at the End

  I once compared Dan Kotler and Roland Denzel to Sherlock Holmes and Watson. I was wrong about that.

  I meant well. I was trying to frame their relationship with each other in a way that was relatable for readers, so that it would be easier to understand their dynamic. But I was slightly off track.

  In the relationship between Sherlock and Watson, there’s this vibe of “superiority.” Throughout the Sherlock Holmes stories we see that Sherlock becomes fond of Watson, learns to trust and depend on him, even admires him for his own skills and his progress and growth. But all of this is a little like a parent praising their child. There’s a sense of uneven equality—respect, but Sherlock is still clearly the “head of household.” Respect on Sherlock’s terms.

  Kotler and Denzel have a different dynamic, in my opinion.

  There are times when Kotler has the upper hand in their relationship, particularly when he’s on a roll with something about which he’s an expert. Kotler shifts into a sort of professor mode, filling in gaps of information (or providing exposition … I’ll admit to using Kotler for exposition), and we get to see the other characters react to this. Denzel tends to be tolerant of it, the way someone tolerates a talkative old-timer in a coffee shop, or the way one spouse tolerates the other when hearing the same story for the thousandth time. My wife, Kara, is fantastic with this.

  The thing is, Kotler is smart. Very smart. And more than that, he’s clever. He uses his knowledge and expertise to figure things out, in a way that is useful to Agent Denzel. So it’s easy to tolerate diatribes and occasional rabbit trails, knowing they’re leading somewhere. Kotler has just enough ego to enjoy hearing his own voice, but he’s earned it. His intelligence is useful.

  Denzel is by no means the “dumb one” in their relationship, however.

  What makes Denzel fun for me is that he’s often a bit of bumbling. He’s constantly getting names and foreign words wrong. He fumbles with technology, tending to prefer old-school methods, but willing to admit the usefulness of modern tech, and equally willing to embrace it. Still, he’d rather jot notes in a pocket notebook and use an old-fashioned slide projector than fall back on his phone or smart tablet and use a fancy display for presentations. He’ll do it, but he’s going to do it with splendid awkwardness.

  Despite this, Denzel is at least as smart as Kotler, though specialized in entirely different areas. Denzel is the type of quiet intelligence that can sometimes be intimidating but is almost always deceptive. It sometimes gives the impression that the person isn’t all that sharp. But this couldn’t be more wrong.

  Denzel keeps his mouth shut and lets other people talk because he knows this is the best way to learn things they may not have intended to share. He also knows that it’s better to let the other smart people in the room use their smarts, to help solve problems faster. He can let Kotler go off on tangents because he knows Kotler is a genius, and it’s Denzel’s own genius that he knows how to channel that brilliance.

  Denzel lives by the wise principle of “Never be the smartest person in the room.” And even if you are the smartest person, pretend you’re not. It usually leads to better ideas and more rapid results.

  So these two are not really like Holmes and Watson at all. They’re far more equal than that. Kotler doesn’t need Denzel for inspiration, to help him “dumb down” a problem so that a solution becomes obvious. And Denzel doesn’t need Kotler to do all the intellectual heavy-lifting, solving the riddles because “no one else can.” Denzel isn’t Kotler’s sidekick, he’s his partner. And he sees Kotler as a shortcut—a tool to get to the answers faster.

  One of the most common comparisons I get with these books is Indiana Jones.

  I can see why. The elements of archaeology are a given, as is the gun-toting action, the struggle between a clever and charming protagonist and his equally clever and charming antagonists. The only thing missing is a whip. And a stylish fedora.

  This comparison is pretty accurate, I think, but I don’t believe that Dr. Dan Kotler is a one-to-one replica of Dr. Indiana Jones. What I believe is that Kotler and Denzel together have a dynamic that’s reminiscent of Indie.

  Kotler could be compared to Dr. Jones, the college professor who has all the co-eds writing love notes to him on their eyelids. He’s the professor, spending hours poring over ancient texts and maps and translations, writing papers, publishing. He also goes out into the field, working in or supervising digs and excavations, crawling around in tombs and making charcoal rubbings of etchings in ancient stone monuments. All of that is Kotler.

  Denzel, on the other hand, is more like Indiana Jones, adventurer. Or, maybe less adventurer and more “guy getting into gunfights with the bad guys.” The rough but capable side of Indie, facing dangers down with a gun and a badge rather than a whip and a fedora. Denzel shares Indie’s tendency to appear less intelligent than he really is. He leverages the fact that others underestimate him, using that to his advantage.

  Together, the two of them could give Indie a run for his money. Maybe. I’d pay to see that movie, though. I’d even buy popcorn.

  Of course, another common comparison for these books is Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code. Or the Robert Langdon series in general. And I’m not going to bother denying the connection there, because it’s totally real and totally intentional. Dan Kotler is even named for Dan Brown, in part. He’s an homage. I’m hoping Mr. Brown would find it flattering.

  In fact, something that I only became aware of recently was the fact that The Coelho Medallion pulls heavily from the structure of Ron Howard’s film adaptation of The Da Vinci Code. It’s not a shot-for-shot remake, but it shares a lot of similar story beats.

  This was not intentional. I never set out to borrow from the structure of that film, or from the book (which I read just prior to the film’s release). I was trying, with that first thriller, to pay respect to the genre that Dan Brown helped to revitalize. But it had been a few years since seeing that movie or reading that book. I guess it made a deeper impression than I’d realized, at the time.

  Considering it was my very first thriller, and was more or less an homage to Dan Brown’s work, I’m only surprised that I hadn’t done it intentionally. Also, it’s weird that the subconscious is such a powerful thing. It makes me wonder about how many other “homages” I have floating around in my work, completely unintentional.

  What Brown’s character, Robert Langdon, inspired in me was the academic side of Dan Kotler. The idea of an intellectual who becomes embroiled in mystery and action is intriguing and exciting. It opens up lots of possibilities for stories.

  Unlike Langdon, however, I wanted my character to have someone he could always rely on. I wanted him to have a relationship that could highlight some of Kotler’s weaknesses and vulnerabilities while supplying him with a source of strength.

  Kotler and Denzel aren’t in love, but they do have a romance. I jokingly refer to this as a “bromance” in the books, and I base it on relationships I have with some of the good friends I have in my own life. Other authors, like Nick Thacker and Ernest Dempsey. And good, lifetime friends like David Dodson and Bob Beaver. And, of course, the real-life Roland Denzel—another fellow author who has become a good friend despite distance and infrequent communication. I have a lot of experience with bromance, and I wanted to explore that with my two protagonists. It’s led to some fascinating interactions, between two characters who are very different, in a lot of ways, and yet share some very poignant similarities.

  So that’s Kotler and Denzel, in a nutshell. I’m still exploring these two, still finding out who they are and what they believe in. I’m sharing as I go. Each book reveals a little more.

  Also with each book, I’m branching out and exploring ideas that have fascinated me for years. For Stepping Maze, I brought in an element of cryptology, which has always intrigued me.

  Codebreaking is something I’ve always found captivati
ng, and I’ve written about it from time to time. This time, however, I wanted it to be a central part of the story.

  I did a great deal of research into codebreaking and cryptology before starting this book, but one of the best sources of information and inspiration came from Jason Fagone’s biography of Elisabeth Friedman, The Woman Who Smashed Codes. It was here that I learned about the American Black Chamber and its connection to the founding of the NSA. Fagone did an excellent job of introducing and simplifying various ciphers and cryptological methods, and he made even some of the densest and most intimidating processes accessible.

  The history of the Friedmans, Elisabeth and William, is fascinating reading. I highly recommended picking up the book, reading it thoroughly, and giving it the best possible review.

  My choice to link all of this to Kotler’s past was made in part because I found it necessary to start answering some questions about Kotler’s personal and professional life, as well as the existence of Historic Crimes.

  There are things I put into previous books that hint at Kotler’s past, but this was the first time I’d actually used that past as a springboard for a storyline. Discovering that Kotler’s great-grandfather was a founding member of the NSA is intriguing. Even more intriguing are the questions I’m only thinking to ask myself, and that the characters themselves should have asked long ago: Why is Historic Crimes even a thing? How does it keep getting funding? Who is advocating for it, higher up in the food chain? And why was it called “Historic Crimes” instead of “Historical Crimes?”

  That last one has an easy answer: It’s because I wrote that and didn’t quite click to the goof until I’d already published the book in which I introduced this new division. By then, I figured it was better to own the mistake and write it into the mythos. Though it took three more books before I got around to it.

  At any rate, now here we are. Dan Kotler has a past. We knew it was there, but we’re starting to see it emerge. And we’ll see more over time.