“I suppose I might have some enemies,” Riley said, “but the Buddhist monk standing over there hasn’t any. Or, rather, he hadn’t any until today.”
The detective looked over at Wayan Bagus. “So you all know each other.”
“His name is Wayan Bagus. He’s from Bali. He’s my employer’s houseguest,” Riley said.
The plainclothes cop turned his attention to Emerson. “And Ms. Moon’s relationship to you is?”
“She’s my amanuensis.”
“Your what? Never mind. What you two do behind closed doors is none of my business.” The detective motioned to the police officer standing with Wayan Bagus. “I want to talk with the monk now.”
Wayan Bagus approached them and bowed slightly.
“So,” the detective said. “Is there anything you can tell me?”
“Anything?” Wayan Bagus asked.
“Yes, anything.”
“Lord Buddha teaches that even death is not to be feared by one who has lived wisely.”
The detective had a pained look on his face. “I meant about the dead guy.”
Wayan Bagus nodded. “He fell.”
“Some of the witnesses said you disappeared just before he was about to push you over the balcony.”
“Nobody can disappear, though, can they?” Wayan Bagus said.
EIGHT
RILEY AND EMERSON SAT SIDE BY SIDE ON A bench outside the planetarium while they waited for Vernon. Wayan Bagus had gone off in search of a quiet place where he could meditate and pray for the dead man. It was near closing time, and the museum was almost empty.
“I’m exhausted,” Riley said. “I expended a lot of adrenaline, and I’m toast.”
“I have to admit, I’m also a little toasted,” Emerson said, “but I can’t stop thinking about the attacks just now.”
“Hard to believe they were random. I think we were targeted.”
“I agree,” Emerson said. “And I think this is the result of us asking questions about the stolen island and the unexplained disappearances and deaths at the national parks.”
“I’m having a problem with that. The cause doesn’t justify the effect. Look at us. We’re ridiculous. A monk, an eccentric billionaire, a big goofy guy, and me. We barge into a couple offices, ask totally off-the-wall questions, and get shuffled out onto the street.”
“You’re assuming that the questions are off-the-wall. Maybe the questions are spot-on.”
“Even if the questions are spot-on. Someone tried to kill Wayan and me. That’s not an appropriate reaction to a spot-on question. That’s not normal.”
Emerson nodded. “True, but what if there’s something happening out there that is so huge and beyond normal that it justifies murder at the slightest provocation?”
“You have my attention. Keep going.”
“I believe that the incidents we’ve been looking at, from our missing hikers in Yellowstone to our missing island in Samoa, are all the result of something occurring at exactly the same location. The earth’s core. Imagine lines from the earth’s core to each of the death parks, plus Wayan’s island.”
“And?”
“That’s the connection.”
“That’s all you’ve got?”
“It’s not sufficient?” Emerson asked.
“It’s nothing,” Riley said. “You’ve got nothing but an idea. It’s not even an idea that makes any sense. I can draw lines from the center of the earth to anything. Anybody can. Even Vernon.”
Emerson thought for a beat. “There are a few blanks to get filled in. Albert Einstein famously said if at first an idea is not absurd, there’s no hope for it.”
“You got me there,” Riley said.
“So we’re all on board,” Emerson said.
“No.”
“Partially on board?”
“Maybe.”
“Good enough,” Emerson said. “We’re going to Yellowstone to find the missing newlyweds.”
“The ones that were boiled alive?”
“That’s speculation.”
“Have you ever been to Yellowstone?”
“No, but I read Frommer’s Yellowstone National Park travel guide. It’s more than two million acres of boiling hot sulfuric springs, bubbling mud pots, vast lakes of brilliant blue, red, and yellow, huge geysers, and massive canyons and waterfalls. The entire Yellowstone National Park is an active volcano rumbling beneath the visitors’ feet. It has the potential for a magnitude eight eruption.”
“And if one of these magnitude eight eruptions happened now?”
“It’s an extinction-level event. The amount of ash expelled into the atmosphere would trigger massive climate change and could be the end of the human race. Most scientists predict that Yellowstone will erupt again in about sixty thousand years.”
“Wow, only sixty thousand years.”
“It’s a ticking time bomb,” Emerson said. “In 2013, scientists discovered a humongous blob of magma stored beneath Yellowstone. If that blob was released, it could fill the Grand Canyon eleven times over, but no one is predicting that will occur anytime remotely soon. Yellowstone is extremely stable, for an active volcano.”
The planetarium was starting to empty. Vernon was one of the last to leave.
“That was a real good show,” Vernon said to Emerson and Riley. “I hardly slept at all.” He looked down at Riley’s bloody knee. “What the heck happened to you?”
“A maniac threw me off the balcony.”
“No kidding. Are you all right?”
“Yes. Fortunately I fell onto a plane that was hanging from the ceiling.”
Even as she said it she realized the whole thing sounded ridiculous. It was almost as if she’d dreamed it.
“Did they catch the guy?” Vernon asked.
“Yes and no. He sort of flew over the second-floor railing, smashed onto the ground floor, and died,” Riley said. “At least we think it was the same guy.”
“What did this guy look like?” Vernon asked.
Wayan Bagus joined them. “I took a picture with my iPad. It was accidental but the quality is actually quite good. I was taking a picture of a plane when the unfortunate man came up behind me. After he fell I leaned over the balcony to see him, and my iPad snapped another picture.”
Wayan Bagus brought the picture up on his iPad and showed it to Vernon.
“Oh man,” Vernon said. “That’s awful. His head exploded. There’s brains all over the place. And I think I see guts squishing out of him. Did he poop himself? I bet he pooped himself. Dead guys always do that. ’Specially if you crush them. I mean I don’t know firsthand, but it seems reasonable, right? This is making me sick. I might hurl. I feel faint. I gotta sit down.” He did some deep breathing. “Okay, I feel better now. Anyone want an ice cream sandwich? If I hurry I might get to the snack bar before it closes.”
“We’ll meet you outside the front entrance,” Emerson said.
Vernon ran off to get ice cream, and Emerson studied the photo on the iPad.
“Interesting,” Emerson said. “Very interesting.” He enlarged a part of the picture to show Riley. “You have to see this.”
“I don’t want to look if there are brains or guts,” Riley said. “I haven’t totally got it together. My heart is still skipping beats, and my stomach is queasy. It was awful to get thrown off the balcony. Seeing a dead guy with an exploded head isn’t going to help my stomach.”
“I want you to look at a close-up of his hand,” Emerson said.
Riley looked at Wayan’s iPad.
“He has the same tattoo as Tin Man,” she said. “Two crossed sabers and a number one above them.”
“It’s a symbol for the 1st Volunteer Cavalry Division in the United States Army.”
“So, they’re both military?”
“Not unless they’re both 120 years old. This insignia hasn’t been used by the army in about a century. It’s the insignia of the Rough Riders,” Emerson said.
“As in Teddy Roosevelt?”