Over the speakerphone, they heard a sustained static hiss. Then a cough, and a scratchy voice said: "Hello? Hello? It's Levine here."
Thorne pressed the button on his phone. "Richard. It's Thorne. Do you read me?"
"Hello?" Levine said, at the other end. "Hello?"
Thorne sighed. "Richard. You have to press the 'T' button, for transmit. Over."
"Hello?" Another cough, deep and rasping. "This is Levine. Hello?"
Thorne shook his head in disgust. "Obviously, be doesn't know how to work it. Damn! I went over it very carefully with him. Of course he wasn't paying attention. Geniuses never pay attention. They think they know everything. These things aren't toys." He pushed the send button. "Richard, listen to me. You must push the 'T' in order to - "
"This is Levine. Hello? Levine. Please. I need help." A kind of groan. "If you can hear me, send help. Listen, I'm on the island, I managed to get here all right, but - "
A crackle. A hiss.
"Uh-oh," Thorne said.
"What is it?" Arby said, leaning forward.
"We're losing him."
"Why?"
"Battery," Thorne said. "It's going fast. Damn. Richard: where are you?"
Over the speakerphone, they heard Levine's voice: " - dead already - situation got - now - very serious - don't know - can hear me, but if you - get help - "
"Richard. Tell us where you are!"
The phone hissed, the transmission getting steadily worse. They heard Levine say: " - have me surrounded, and - vicious - can smell them especially - night - "
"What is he talking about?" Arby said.
" - to - injury - can't - not long - please - "
And then there was a final, fading hiss.
And suddenly the phone went dead.
Thorne clicked off his own handset, and turned off the speakerphone. He turned to the kids, who were both pale. "We have to find him," he said. "Right away."
SECOND CONFIGURATION
"Self-organization elaborates in complexity as the
system advances toward the chaotic edge."
IAN MALCOLM
Clues
Thorne unlocked the door to Levine's apartment, and flicked on the lights. They stared, astonished. Arby said, "It looks like a museum!"
Levine's two-bedroom apartment was decorated in a vaguely Asian style, with rich wooden cabinets, and expensive antiques. But the apartment was spotlessly clean, and most of the antiques were housed in plastic cases. Everything was neatly labeled. They walked slowly into the room.
"Does he live here?" Kelly said. She found it hard to believe. The apartment seemed so impersonal to her, almost inhuman. And her own apartment was such a mess all the time…
"Yeah, he does," Thorne said, pocketing the key. "It always looks like this. It's why he can never live with a woman. He can't stand to have anybody touch anything."
The living-room couches were arranged around a glass coffee table. On the table were four piles of books, each neatly aligned with the glass edge. Arby glanced at the titles. Catastrophe Theory and Emergent Structures. Inductive Processes in Molecular Evolution. Cellular Automata. Methodology of Non-Linear Adaptation. Phase Transition in Evolutionary Systems. There were also some older books, with titles in German.
Kelly sniffed the air. "Something cooking?"
"I don't know" Thorne said. He went into the dining room. Along the wall, he saw a hot plate with a row of covered dishes. They saw a polished wood dining table, with a place set for one, silver and cut glass. Soup steamed from a bowl.
Thorne walked over and picked up a sheet of paper on the table and read: "Lobster bisque, baby organic greens, seared ahi tuna." A yellow Post-it was attached. "Hope your trip was good! Romelia."
"Wow, " Kelly said."You mean somebody makes dinner for him every day?"
"I guess," Thorne said. He didn't seem impressed; he shuffled through a stack of unopened mail that had been set out beside the plate. Kelly turned to some faxes on a nearby table. The first one was from the Peabody Museum at Yale, in New Haven. "Is this German?" she said handing it to Thorne.
Dear Dr. Levine:
Your requested document:
"Geschichtliche Forschungsarbeiten uber die Geologie Zentralamerikas, 1922-1929"
has been sent by Federal Express today.
Thank you.
(signed)
Dina Skrumbis, Archivist
"I can't read it," Thorne said. "But I think it's 'Something Researches on the Geology of Central America.' And it's from the twenties - not exactly hot news."
"I wonder why he wanted it?" she said.
Thorne didn't answer her. He went into the bedroom.
The bedroom had a spare, minimal look, the bed a black futon, neatly made. Thorne opened the closet doors, and saw racks of clothing, everything pressed, neatly spaced, much of it in plastic. He opened the top dresser drawer and saw socks folded, arranged by color.
"I don't know how he can live like this," Kelly said.