The Journals

By D.W. Crawford

Peer over the shoulder of a super genius as he parts the curtains of science to reveal the answer to man’s most
profound question. In this intriguing tale of heroism and violence, genius, Otto, and friend, Ed Wilding, place their
lives and fortunes in jeopardy to keep Otto’s discovery from falling into the wrong hands.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 4, 2014
• ISBN: 9780990709619

Book preview

him.

CHAPTER 3

THE JOURNAL

The unexamined life is not worth living.

Socrates

May 26, 2010

The next morning I was still numb, but ready to begin my new life. I ordered breakfast from room service and afterward made my way to my…my ex-wife’s house. I wanted to pick up a few of my more important personal items lest they disappear in a fit of Caroline’s anger. When I arrived, there were three police cars in the drive. I asked Caroline what happened. She said she had gone directly from the airport to her friend’s apartment, and she had gotten home only a short while ago.

And this, she exploded, is what I found, waving an expansive arm at the destroyed room in which we were standing. I walked the rest of the house and found it in the same condition.

I can’t find anything missing, she cried, but everything has been damaged. Did you have anything to do with this? eyeing me accusingly.

Of course not, I said. I suspected this might be related to Otto’s $500,000.00 gift, so I stepped outside to call Sims.

It looks as if it has started already, he said. I was hoping our precautions would at the very least delay this sort of happenstance, but since it appears not, we may as well meet at my office.

The sooner the better, I said. I’m on my way.

I went directly to Sims’ office.

Hi, Bill. I want you to know I am pissed.

I understand perfectly, he said. Come with me and let’s get a cup of Starbucks’ coffee.

It was clear from his expression he was concerned about being overheard. When we got in his car, he fished a note from his glove box. He handed it to me with a finger over his lips, indicating I should read it silently. It read:

Brick, there is a very slight possibility your clothing and shoes have been bugged. When we get to Starbucks, I’m going to spill some coffee on you and apologize. You will say it’s okay, and I can drop you off at a clothing store so you can buy a new suit to celebrate your recent divorce. There you will buy new shoes, socks, underwear, and whatever outerwear you like. You will remove your credit cards, driver’s license, and money from your wallet. You will change into the new clothes, including the shoes, socks and underwear. The clothes you are wearing and all your personal effects you will put in a bag and begin walking west. The first person you see who looks as if they might need or want your bag, give it to them.

Hail a taxi and direct the driver to Capitani’s Pizzeria. Sit near the back of the restaurant. If no one has followed you, leave through the back door, turn left in the alley and walk to Broad Street. Hail another taxi and direct the driver to Bluewater Marina and Boat Rentals. I will meet you there. Although I don’t think so, there is the possibility our phones have been compromised, so I’m giving you another one and $500.00. Pay for everything with cash. Do not use your credit cards.

My thought was Sims was being paranoid, but since he was paying for it, I decided to do as I was told. I arrived at Bluewater Marina, sans everything but my new clothes, my credit cards and driver’s license. Sims met me and ushered me to a cabin cruiser. We motored out about five miles where he dropped anchor. After shutting down the engine, he said, We can talk now.

He pulled a couple of bottles of beer from an ice chest and seemed to relax a bit.

Brick, he said, the terms and conditions required for you to receive the funds promised are simple. Mr. Otto has been keeping a daily journal since he was eleven-years-old. His instructions are that you read the entire journal. At that time you will receive $500,000.00. You may decide you do not wish to take possession of his scientific papers, but you will still retain the half million. If you decide to take delivery of those papers, you will then be awarded an additional two and a half billion.

Two billion, I choked. Did you say billion, with a B?

That’s right. But remember that happens only if you take delivery of his other papers, which include his energy process and other discoveries you will learn about when you read his journal.

Mr. Sims, I said, I’m seventy-years-old and I cannot imagine anything some oil company could do to me that would outweigh the possibility of living the rest of my life in luxury. Isn’t Otto afraid I will try to sell this information?

Otto feels IHC has already broken their agreement and therefore he has no reservations about placing the information in your hands. However, continued Sims, you may want to give it some thought. For one thing, you would lose some degree of immunity from any harm the company might want to visit upon you. For another, you would want to consider the impact it would have on the world, jobs lost, governments toppled, rebellions, famine, riots, a whole host of bad things can happen if the world is given this information. As you can see, Brick, you have a lot to consider and no time to do it.

Let me understand this, Bill. I am to read Mr. Otto’s journal, and at that time I will make a decision whether or not to accept his scientific writings. If I do accept them, only then will I receive the two and a half billion.

That is correct, said Sims.

In that case, I declared, let’s do it.

Sims took out his phone and made a call. You can bring the material, he told the party at the other end. Turning to me, he said, We have about an hour to kill if you would like to do a little fishing. There are sandwiches and snacks in the other cooler if you’re hungry, and what looks to be a comfortable bunk below if you want to nap. I have a little work to do for another old client, and I should be through in a half an hour or so.

I fetched a sandwich and another beer and kicked back to enjoy the sun and sea while we waited. Slightly less than an hour later, a boat pulled alongside and secured lines to the fore and aft cleats of our vessel. Two rather husky looking gentlemen lugged five large suitcases aboard.

What the hell, I exclaimed. What is this?

That, Mr. Wilding, is Otto’s journal. I expect it will be in legible English. I can’t be certain, however. Mr. Otto speaks and writes in at least fifty-three languages.

Will wonders never cease, I thought. My idea of a journal was something I could carry in one hand.

I would have thought, I said, you would have at least glanced at the journal, Bill.

"You may not believe this, Brick, but I am an ethical man. In addition, Mr. Otto has paid me a substantial sum to follow his instructions to the letter, and those instructions did not include me peeking at his journal.

"I believe our opposition thinks Otto’s formula is in play now, and you and I both are at risk. I’ve made arrangements for you to be taken to a location where you should have the time to read Mr. Otto’s journal undisturbed. I’m going to try and disappear for thirty days myself. I don’t want to run the risk of being abducted and interrogated before you have the time to finish your reading.

"I bought a new wallet for you. In it you will find a new driver’s license, new credit cards and other documents establishing you as a freelance photographer. I will keep your old cards and license for you. None of this will stand up under any serious scrutiny. However, you will find in the wallet $5,000.00. You will pay cash for anything you need, and under no circumstance will you use your credit cards. They are just for show.

"I have taken the liberty of buying you a new wardrobe. I want you to change out of everything you are wearing. You may have noticed one of the men that brought Otto’s journals looks a little like you. He is going to wear your clothes back to the dock and make himself scarce as well. Also give him your phone. The only thing he knows is that he was hired to impersonate someone, so if he happens to get picked up there isn’t much he could tell anyone.

You will board the other boat and my man will take you to a different dock. He will then take you to a secure location. His name is Martin. I contacted Martin in such a way I do not believe he is on anyone’s radar. I do not know the location he chose for you, so no one can get that from me, but they could possibly get Martin’s name and contact information. For that reason, I have taken some elaborate precautions to make myself unavailable. You will find three more telephones in your luggage. If you need anything, it should be safe to call me.

Bill, I said, all this doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. It seems Otto would be the one they would be after.

You may be right, said Sims, but if anyone has seen his journal since he made the decision to share his discoveries, you would more than likely be their primary target. Their best course of action would be to acquire his papers from you. Should they fail and should you be harmed in that attempt, they would still have Otto as a resource.

Shades of James Bond, I thought, but I was broke now and I had no other option but to go ahead.

CHAPTER 4

THE BEACH HOUSE

Knowing others is wisdom, knowing yourself is enlightenment.

Lao Tzu

Mr. Martin spoke, extended a gloved hand and shook mine.

Put these on, he said, handing me a matching pair of gloves. Keep them on until we get where we’re going."

Well, Mr. Sims, I said, offering my hand, I can’t say it hasn’t been interesting. You should write a novel about all this.

I couldn’t turn a phrase with a bulldozer and a stick of dynamite, he chuckled, but maybe someday, if we live long enough, you can.

Mr. Martin assisted me aboard the other boat. The trip to shore was without conversation or incident. Martin appeared to be a competent sort, if not gregarious. When we docked, I helped him lash the boat and carry the luggage to a four door pickup parked close by. Martin accepted the help without comment. He obviously didn’t consider himself a servant. When we climbed in the truck, Martin told me we would be on the road for three hours and if I needed to eat or use a bathroom, he would look after the luggage while I did so. I declined and we headed into the city. I thought our direction of travel curious, as I understood we were going to a beach house.

About fifteen minutes later, he drove into a private parking lot and he handed the attendant a fifty. As soon as he parked, he hit a quick dial number on his cell and said, We’re here, then drove out of the parking lot turning right on the street we had just left.

More and more curious, I thought. I don’t mean to be rude, but may I ask what’s going on?

You have a right to know, I suppose. We are going to change vehicles in a parking garage just up the street. One of our operatives has been employed as a security officer with the hotel that owns the garage. He is shutting off the surveillance cameras, and we have less than ten minutes to get to the other vehicle and get out of the garage. So when we get there, grab everything you can and haul ass.

As we drove out of the garage, Martin took off his gloves and spoke. I think we made it in time. In a few minutes we were on I-45 headed toward Galveston, moving at just under the speed limit. I was pleased to find in less than the predicted three hours we were near a place called Surfside at a beach house facing the Gulf of Mexico.

Martin reached in the glove box, withdrew a revolver and handed it to me. He said, I’m going in to make sure the premises are clear. He picked up a briefcase from behind the seat and left me with what I’m sure was a disconcerted look on my face. This was the first time I began to suspect I might really be in physical danger.

Fifteen minutes later, I decided he was taking much too long to inspect the house. Another ten minutes passed and I was trying to make up my mind whether to run or fight. Just then, I saw him coming out the door. As he opened the truck door, I spread my hands, palms up, with a question mark on my face. He said, Maybe you didn’t understand. In addition to chasing away boogers, I did a bug sweep just to be on the safe side.

We carried the luggage inside and Martin helped himself to a beer from the refrigerator. I had the feeling he had stocked the place himself. Mr. Sims, he explained, "tells me what you have in that luggage is of supreme importance to both you and to him, so I’ve taken some precautions for you. Should there be a fire, there are several fire alarms and extinguishers in each room. If you can’t deal with it, you should take the luggage outside and call a taxi. Don’t hang around. There would be too many awkward questions. Failing that, there is a fireproof blanket the luggage should be wrapped in when you are not using it. The risk of a fire is slight, but a possibility nonetheless, so you should be prepared for that contingency.

Another slight risk is that you might be the victim of a random burglary or vandalism. In that unlikely event, I have placed a shotgun in each of the rooms and a revolver on the lamp stand by your bed. Mr. Sims instructed that you are not to leave this material unattended at any time. That means sunning on the beach is out. I left the phone number of a restaurant on the kitchen table if you get tired of your own fare, and I’ve made the premises as secure as I can under the circumstances. I have also arranged for a local security company to keep an eye on the house. They are very unlikely to be of any benefit, but in this case there is no such thing as being too careful.

I didn’t care much for Martin’s almost imperious tone, but my assessment of the man had risen several degrees. While I first thought of him as competent muscle, I now realized this was an educated, sophisticated man. He walked into the bedroom and wrapped the luggage in the fireproof blanket. When he returned, he handed me the keys to the beach house, pointing out the doors were deadlocked and chained, and the windows were locked as well, with an alarm at each one. I wondered how long ago Sims had Martin prepare this place. Good luck, Mr. Wilding. Here is my phone number if you need me.

As I watched Martin drive away, it dawned on me I was tense, tired, and hungry. I decided to eat, unwind and sleep before tackling my project. I found some white bread in the pantry and lunch meat in the fridge, along with some quality craft beer. After I finished my meal, I turned on the TV and noticed in the cabinet by the TV a number of DVDs featuring recent popular movies, along with a half dozen skin flicks. Somebody really knew how to stock a beach house, I thought.

My life had been one strangeness after another since I answered the phone in my pocket, and I had not thought about sex since then. Apparently Martin or Sims had thought of it for me. It seemed they were serious about keeping me from going out. When the disc tray opened, I dropped in Debbie Does Des Moines. Later I slept, un-vexed by the dreams of the wicked.

May 27, 2010

Morning ablutions finished, I found a yellow pad and pen, opened the luggage and began looking for the oldest entries. I was anticipating some difficulty, but the suitcases were labeled one through five. I opened the first folder with yellowed paper inside. At the top of the page was the legend:

MY DAILY JOURNAL

January 2, 1953

The day after my eleventh birthday.

Yesterday, my father took me to the zoo and afterward we had ice cream. That evening we went to a pizza parlor. When we got home, there was a cake on the dining table he had somehow managed to set out without my knowledge. He lit eleven candles and told me to make a wish and blow them out. I wished for a friend. While I was eating my cake, my dad brought in a canister of jelly beans and another of bubble gum. Something to do while you’re studying, he said.

Then he said he thought I should begin keeping a daily journal. He brought in a ream of lined paper, box of folders and a box of ballpoint pens. My father is a kind man and very wise, although I don’t think he is very smart. I shouldn’t write this because he might read it someday, but he told me I should include any thoughts I might have.

January 11, 1953

Began Homer’s Iliad today.

January 12, 1953

Finished the Iliad today, still trying to make sense of it.

January 15, 1953

Began Gibbons’ Fall of the Roman Empire today.

January 16, 1953

Finished Fall of the Roman Empire today. I believe I shall learn Greek and Latin. I think I would be better served garnering this information from the original texts if they are available.

April 26, 1953

I believe I now have a working knowledge of Latin. I would like the opportunity to speak to someone who knows the language, to see if I am understood.

December 30, 1953

Today two men came to our home. I was asked to leave the room, which I did, but I remained within earshot of their conversation. Peeking around a corner, I saw a somewhat bilious looking man in a threadbare suit begin speaking to my father.

Mr. Otto, he said, it has come to our attention there is a minor child in your home who is not enrolled in school. My father told them I was being tutored at home.

The bilious man said, We know that you are not equipped to tutor your son, neither do you have the teaching credentials required by our state. You will be required to bring him to our admissions office tomorrow morning at 8 o’clock. He will be tested at that time to determine where he should be placed and with what age group.

My father agreed, and after they left he told me he would be taking me to school the next day, and I should follow their instructions carefully. He said, Take whatever tests they wish to administer. Do not volunteer any information, and answer all their questions politely.

CHAPTER 5

OTTO’S INTRODUCTION TO THE WORLD OUTSIDE.

Colleges are places where pebbles are polished and diamonds are dimmed.

Robert G. Ingersoll

December 31, 1953

I suspect today was the most pointless, unproductive day of my life. It was filled with a battery of inane, infantile questionnaires. I cannot imagine anyone could have learned anything at all useful. My time would have been better spent picking my nose. My father received a call from someone at the school this evening saying they were unable to make a determination regarding the status of my education, and he should bring me back to the same place January 2nd.

January 2, 1954

I was taken from the school where my father left me for the day. I was then transported by the bilious man to the University of Houston. There I was assailed by another round of only slightly less inane questionnaires. When those were finished, I was brought to a semi-ornate room where several men and a couple of ladies sat. The first question came from the eldest in the room. He said, Otto, do you know what an IQ test is?

I assume you mean a rather primitive examination to determine an individual’s intelligence quotient. I also assume that was part of the testing today. I had the idea they had intended the interrogation to continue for some period of time. Instead, the same man who spoke to me said, Otto, we would like for you to audit some of our classes and tell us what you think.

Sure, I said, that sounds like fun. As I was leaving, I heard someone ask if anyone knew anything about me. I moved out of sight but remained where I could hear the answer, which was that I lived with a widower father in a neighborhood where the trees were bigger than the houses. I learned later today that meant it was an old neighborhood.

January 3, 1954

Today, I was ushered into a university class on astronomy. There was a vigorous discussion underway regarding the possibility of intelligent life on other planets. The instructor looked my way and said, Otto, what do you think about the possibility of intelligent life on other planets? This is where my father’s wisdom was reaffirmed when he told me not to volunteer anything.

My response to the instructor was, I certainly hope so. There doesn’t seem to be any on this planet. I realized from their reaction I had said the wrong thing, and I couldn’t wait for the class to end.

Next I was taken to a physics class. As soon as I was seated, the professor said, People, this young man is Otto Otto. He will be auditing our class today. Otto, we’ve been discussing thermodynamics. Do you know what that is?

I said, Briefly, it is the branch of science concerned with heat and its relationship to other forms of energy and work.

Very, very good, he said, condescension oozing from every pore. I have written an equation on the board. I would not expect you to solve it, but is it possible you can read it?

I can read it, I said, but I can’t solve it because of errors in the premise. His smarmy, insincere smile became even smarmier.

Would you care to show us intellectual unfortunates the errors? the professor sneered.

Certainly, I said. Going to the board, I made a few minor corrections, then wrote the solution underneath.

Mr. Otto, please wait for me outside the classroom. We have some things to discuss, he said.

I left to the sound of snickers, deciding these people did not care for my presence. I made my way to Dean DeKalb’s office and asked his secretary if I could speak with him. She told me he was busy at the moment, but I should have a seat and she would get me in as soon as she could.

Just as someone was coming out of the Dean’s office, the physics professor marched by me and burst through his door. He never looked my way, and left the door open as he spoke in a near shout. Sam, I’ll not have that arrogant little Otto asshole in my class.

Hold on a minute, Dev, the Dean said, this boy has an IQ we can’t even measure. He has the intellectual qualifications to be a full professor in any of a dozen disciplines, and it will be a tremendous feather in our cap if we can work with him.

That may be so, the Professor said, but I’ll not have him in my class, and I believe I have enough influence with the board to bar him from the university, at least in any capacity other than as a freshman student. And, I think I can keep him out entirely. He turned and marched out, noticing me as he did. He looked away sheepishly and continued his exit.

The Dean spotted me and asked me in. Well, young man, it appears you did not make a favorable impression on our good Professor.

That’s what I wanted to discuss with you, sir. I have concluded I will not be happy here, and the instructors and students would rather I be gone as well. I want to thank you for your interest, though.

I’m sorry you feel that way, son. If you have made your final decision, let me suggest we enroll you here. At least that way the local school gendarmes won’t hassle you. Also, I would suggest if you do not want to attend classes, you take the final exams for any of the subjects in which you have an interest. I will have my secretary notify you when those tests are offered. I can’t guarantee the instructors will pass you due to your lack of attendance, but I will try to prevail on them to do so.

Thank you, sir. Would you mind if I waited for my father in your library?

Not at all, he said. And with that he guided me to the library and told the librarian to help me find anything I wanted to read.

I was waiting for my father at the university entrance when I was joined by Dean Samson DeKalb. I’ll want to speak to your dad when he arrives. I won’t be long, if you will wait here for us.