Hello again, Posterity. Please be patient; must proceed cautiously; maintain tight control lest emotional state bollix record through omission of pertinent, possibly vital, details.
Something Important happened today: Found clue…!
Happened like this:
Feeling pretty good past few days. Thinking seriously about resuming search. However, work undone right here in Baltimore: On way to examine Harpers’ premises when originally bumped into Adam, got sidetracked. Logic dictated completing that before moving on.
Told Adam intentions; asked if familiar with area. Was; volunteered to take me there — correction — take us there:
(Terry so happy to have me healthy again; really bored during recuperation. Likes Adam lots but is my baby brother, knows it; expects to help me with daily chores, explorations, etc.)
Found Harpers’ office easily; gained access (Adam as proficient at prybar locksmithing as self), commenced examination. I explained were looking for clues suggesting AAs’ final destination, explanation for uniform disappearance; tangible or intangible — anything found, or deduction based on identification of something missing. Then went at it.
Adam proved quite good at fine-tooth search; was in fact he who found clue.
Took it calmly when he said, “Is there likely to be more than one Soo Kim McDivott associated with these people?”
“What? Where?” Adam tore sheet of paper from computer printer, held out. Snatched from hand, pored over it feverishly, and…
…PAY DIRT!
Fragment of message to Harpers — from Teacher…! Content ambiguous, due to apparent computer malfunction. But faded print on remaining portion read:
…imple as it first appears… Telemetry… their “contingency solution”… already in place…
…oblem not resolved when it’s “over.”
The authorities still refuse… must be scrapped. Meet me… Palomar facility as soon as… and please bring everything!!!
Love to all, and good luck getting here.
Soo Kim McDivott
That was all. But more than enough. To anyone who knew him, fragmentary missive shrieked starkest urgency. If had not seen with own eyes, would never have believed Teacher would end sentence with three exclamation points. Fabric of Universe hardly less flappable than Teacher.
Heard him express urgency only once. Happened perhaps six months before World Ended:
Though retired, Teacher still member in good standing of town’s medical “reserves.” Often baby-sat practices when Daddy, Jorgé Curaçao, G.P., (town’s “other” doctor) needed time off. On one such occasion (genuine “must” seminar for every physician) Teacher volunteered services to enable both to attend. Set up shop in Daddy’s office (front of our house).
Both gone less than two hours before hysterical truck driver arrived with flat-bed trailer carpeted with casualties from high-school bus capsize (ran over hog — basic rural no-no). Forty-some injured; ten, twelve critical; balance varied between minor broken bones, cuts/scrapes/bruises, acute self-pity.
And in keeping with rules governing such events (known in some quarters as Murphy’s Law), Yours Truly only semblance of nurse/medical assistant available. Flitted about office, trying to be three of me: diving in, out of rubber gloves to hand instruments, operate retraction, tie off; fetch, install bandages; mop blood, etc.
But Teacher faster yet; moved quicker than ever saw outside dojo — seemed everywhere! Worked miracles: Sorted patients by degree of crisis; stabilized some critically wounded apparently by force of will while worked on others even more so. Somehow coped without losing anyone (and some critical really were) until reinforcements arrived from County General, 35 miles away in next town.
Was busy hour. During course of which urgency such that Teacher omitted saying “please.” Twice.
So three exclamation points…!
“Important, huh?” Adam could hardly fail to note shaking hand holding paper.
Nodded wordlessly, thoughts churning.
He waited decent interval; then tried again, still gently: “I read it, but I don’t understand the significance. Is this McDivott your ‘Teacher’?”
“Oh…” Returned to surroundings with a start. “Sorry. Yes. This is from Teacher, I’m sure; telling the Harpers to meet him somewhere; probably just prior to the attack, though maybe right after. And he’s worried about something — I don’t know what, but apparently something that will be a problem even after Mankind is gone — even after he’s gone himself, poor dear; Teacher was like that: Always worried more about others than himself.”
“Any idea what ‘it’ he was talking about?”
“No. And ‘Palomar’ is pretty vague, too — unless he could mean Mount Palomar, near San Diego. But I can’t imagine any connection between Teacher, the AAs, and an observatory. This doesn’t furnish much information.”
“Enough to get your hopes up, but raising more questions than it answers…”
“Exactly. Just enough to send us off on what will very likely end up a wild-goose chase and waste a lot of time.”
“Not really; even if nothing turns up, there are plenty of AA addresses out there. You’ll just be revising the order in which you visit them. You’re looking at a potential gain, even if it’s a long-shot. You can’t lose, no matter what.” Smiled beatifically. “I don’t see the problem.”
Adam never so irritating as when correctly stating obvious, particularly when I’m the one overlooking it (correctness always delivered with such cheerful assurance). However, took deep breath, swallowed retort poised on tip of tongue; agreed was little choice: Any course other than proceeding to check out “Palomar” manifest nonsense.
Should, however, conclude sweep of Harpers’ office. No telling what else might surface.
Did so. Predictably, without profit.
And en route home afterward, Adam observed: “Seems an unlikely sort of coincidence. Are two of the Harpers married, and the other’s their son; or is it a husband/wife/brother thing, or what?”
Glanced across at him. Engrossed in driving; expression devoid of clues usually accompanying deadpan teasing. Possible he didn’t know? Had read Vol. II, glanced through Tarzan File, but perhaps missed that. Decided to accept question at face value.
“No, they’re married.”
“Who?”
“All of them.”
“Oh,” he replied disinterestedly; drove on. Several minutes later head snapped around, eyes narrowed in good-natured suspicion. Demanded, “What?” Then relaxed. “Oh, I see. It really is a coincidence: All separately married; no relation?”
“No, not related at all. Nor married separately. Married.” Couldn’t help smiling as watched Adam juggle possibilities. He noticed; grew truly suspicious.
Easy to tell when figured it out: Jaw went slack, eyes round. “All three of them…?” Adam exerted manful effort to be debonair; but expression — indeed, total aspect from head to toe — very embodiment of shocked disapproval.
(Naturally, have no idea whether men’s relationship extends beyond shared wife, but not about to let Adam off that easily.)