“How soon until the real chew starts?” Reeve asked.
“Not for two or three weeks. But hey, federal doesn’t tell us everything. Why not send some of their agents to check this out?”
“I asked. They’re too busy for something this low.” Reeve shook his head dubiously. “Xavier speaks French and Creole. Thomas is well versed in Caribbean affairs. Listen to what they say, Mary.”
“Of course,” she said quietly.
“And all of you, watch your step,” Reeve suggested. “I’m sparked by anything having to do with Yardley and federal now. Step carefully.” The caring tone in his voice was genuine.
“Yes, sir,” Cramer said wearily.
“Gentlemen, thank you for your time.”
“See you in Hispaniola,” Mary said.
“Glad to be of help,” Cramer said.
Duschesnes smiled grimly and nodded. “Later,” he said.
Their cameos faded. Reeve remained on. “You’re not allowed any weapons in transit, of course, and you can’t bring anything into Hispaniola. But there’s a new wrinkle. I’ll have a plain man meet you at LAX oceanport. He’ll have something that might prove useful; slip it into your suitcase before you check it. Instructions will be clear. It’s not exactly legal, but it’s so new, nobody’s bothered to make it illegal yet, either. I hope you don’t have to use it.”
She knew better than to ask questions. Reeve faded without a farewell. Mary took a deep breath and switched off the screen.
That done, the job defined, Mary Choy banished her qualms into a quiet corner and ordered a pd car to the foot entrance second priority.
She gathered her case, made a quick check around the apartment, set the two arbeiters for maintenance and vigilance, told the home manager, “Be good.”
Shut the door behind her.
33
The psyche can neither be taught nor led astray by the self-criticism of the conscious mind.
Emanuel Goldsmith had spent Christmas Eve and Day in rigorous diagnostic. Martin Burke ate breakfast in the back of Albigoni’s limousine and scrolled through Goldsmith’s physical and psych evaluations, delivered fresh this morning.
He finished his egg sandwich and became absorbed in the reports, losing all sense of time. Paul Lascal sat across from him staring out of the window, fingers loosely knotted in his lap.
The car slowed briefly in a tangle of private car traffic, some mathematical peculiarity of crowding that had temporarily baffled the intercity computers. Martin looked up only for a second to see this, blinked as might a blind man and returned to the slate, eyes narrowing.
Here was the deep map of the physical man and a shallow map of the mental, upper layers minus the underpinning geology, which would be Martin’s terra to explore.
Goldsmith’s body structure and chemistry type were laid out in thirty pages of complex analysis. Racial characteristics reflected eighty percent negro, twenty percent mixed Caucasian-oriental, negro origins probably central west Africa ca. 18th century, genetic structure reflecting normal variations for such origins. Cell specific gene replacement therapy recommended for various autoimmune diseases likely to occur within ten years; low risk of code block and code altered cancers, low risk of drug related diseases; not likely to become chemically dependent or to suffer other obsessive autoconditioning episodes. Basic health sound. Physically strong and vigorous and not likely to be adversely affected by a triplex probe even of long duration.
Goldsmith’s brain chemistry profile might have been that of an untherapied executive after two or three months of rough corporate weather. All glial and neural functions intact; no lesions or gross discontinuities. He was given a rating of 86-22-43 on the Roche scale, that is, normal in all basic functions but under severe internal/external stress.
High normal glial cells insured a carefully balanced K + Na environment and resistance to code altered axon degeneration. The architecture and efficiency ratings of his mind function activity loci dictated that he would be a generally sociable individual, with emphasis on individual; extreme development of deep imaging and modeling skills pointed to a very active mental life from infancy, and that would presuppose an inner-directed personality, someone who would find as much or more satisfaction looking inward as outward.
This led the analysts to conclude that Goldsmith would perform admirably in careers involving mental as opposed to physical activity; he might show a particular aptitude for mathematics involving spacial problems. No mention was made of linguistic skills; such fine analysis of brain architecture usually required several weeks. Linguistic and mathematical faculties were almost invariably strongly linked genetically.
Multiple murderers were often clearly damaged in certain brain loci, trauma caused by severe mental and physical abuse in childhood, resulting in rerouting and reconstruction of social modeling adaptations. Self and other referential modeling capabilities suffered from these changes, leading to radical separation of self regard and empathy; but Goldsmith’s evaluation showed no clear signs of extreme physical trauma. The therapists performing the diagnostic could not in their limited time find signs of deep mental trauma. Goldsmith admitted to no negative conditions or physical abuse in childhood.
Better and better. Goldsmith was probably one of those four or five percent of all murderers who could not be successfully therapied by physical brain restructuring. That meant that Goldsmith might somehow have chosen in a clear state of mind to murder. The possibility remained, however, that Goldsmith had suffered a major personality break not reflected in his physical condition.
If Goldsmith was physically healthy and mentally integral, that would place him in that rarest of all categories, the intellectual psychopath, the truly evil individual. But Martin’s research through the psych stats cube in his slate told him that fewer than five or six individuals in the past fifty years had met such precise criteria. The chances of his encountering another in Goldsmith were surpassingly slender.
If Goldsmith had suffered a hidden pathogenic break, then Martin was sure that signs of such a condition would be found in the Country. He looked up at Lascal. “I’d still like to see your interviews with Goldsmith.”
“The first talks weren’t recorded,” Lascal said. “We didn’t want any evidence in case we had to release him. If you hadn’t agreed.”
Martin nodded. “And after I agreed?”
“No formal interviews. Nobody spoke with him in detail. When he wasn’t being diagnosed, he stayed alone in his room, reading.”
“Can you tell me where he’s being kept?”
“I suppose it doesn’t matter now. He was staying in a room in Mr. Albigoni’s house. Private wing. He’s being moved now by another car to the IPR.”
Martin considered having been so near to Goldsmith and not knowing. He suppressed a shudder. “Nobody spoke with him? Besides the diagnosticians.”
“He was diagnosed through medical arbeiter remotes. No doctor met him personally. But I spoke to him,” Lascal said. “I met with him once or twice yesterday. He seemed quiet and contented. Peaceful.”
Martin knew that diagnosis through remotes was hardly ideal; this put the evaluations in a new light. “Did he say anything significant to you?”
Lascal thought about that for a moment, putting his hands on his knees and swallowing. “He said he was glad we were going to put Humpty Dumpty together again. He referred to Mr. Albigoni as a king, and he said I must be one of the king’s men.”
Martin smirked and shook his head. Shattered egg. Shattered personality. “That might not mean anything. He knows he’s a miscreant.”