But if Nick was aware of any emotional side effects to the focus link, he concealed the knowledge well. He went to work.
Zinnia watched as a complex matrix construct took shape on the metaphysical plane. She glimpsed an overall design, but she did not understand it until Nick started talking quietly.
"So much paperwork lost," he said. "But there's a pattern to the way the records disappeared. First and foremost, the financial data had to go."
Connections shimmered within the intricate matrix construct.
"He must have concluded that those records would be the most damaging," Zinnia said.
"He was right. He reasons like a businessman. A very good one."
The metaphysical matrix that Nick had created grew increasingly sharp. At the same time it also became more complex. Myriad points spread throughout a finite universe. Zinnia knew that each one represented a thought or an idea, a fact or an impression for Nick. His mind was studying them as a whole, searching for connections and links. She realized that she was catching a rare glimpse into the way a powerful matrix-talent performed pure abstract psychic analysis.
"Someone set out to make the Third Expedition literally disappear into the mists of history," Nick said. "And he's been remarkably successful. Only thirty-five years have passed, but the expedition has already been reduced to the level of a minor legend. Officially, it never even took place. In another few years it will have been forgotten altogether."
"Only you and perhaps a handful of others such as Professor DeForest will even remember the story."
"And we'll have no proof," Nick said softly.
Complex designs within designs emerged throughout the mental construct that he had created.
"What do you see?" Zinnia asked, fascinated and dazzled but unable to interpret the patterns. Only Nick could fully comprehend what had been crafted. He was the master of the matrix, a magician who worked in several dimensions, seeking invisible possibilities and improbable connections.
Nick stirred. "The stain of money."
"What about it?"
"I told Leo that you can never wash it out completely. But someone is trying very hard to do just that in this case. Which means that whoever he is, he knows enough to understand that the money trail will lead back to him."
"So?"
"Only someone who truly understood how money works would know how and what to do to hide the trail." Without any warning, Nick cut the flow of talent. The inward-looking expression vanished from his eyes. The matrix winked out of existence on the metaphysical plane.
"Well?" Zinnia prompted.
"The University of New Portland sponsored the Third Expedition," he said.
"We know that. You said their records indicate that it was canceled before it left Serendipity. What of it?"
"Universities don't usually fund major expeditions with their own money. Too expensive. They go after grants or tap wealthy corporations."
"I think I see where you're going with this," Zinnia said slowly.
"Whoever destroyed the financial records did so because he knows they would point straight back to him. We need to find out who gave the university the money to finance the Third. When I identify him, I'll have the man who killed my father."
"You're sure that your father was murdered?"
"Yes." Nick's hand tightened fiercely around the glass. "Just as my mother was. It's all there in the matrix design. The logic is perfect now. My father didn't commit suicide. He was killed because of the secret he discovered. That secret is in the journal. My mother was a threat because she was asking questions about Bartholomew Chastain's disappearance. Her house was burned in case there were any letters or notes that might have made things awkward for the killer."
"But your father's last letter survived because your mother hid it in Andy Aoki's storeroom when she left you with him. I wonder why she didn't tell Mr. Aoki about it?"
"Probably because she was afraid that if he knew too much, he might be in danger. She wanted to protect him until she found out more about what was going on."
"She must have been a very brave woman," Zinnia said. "No wonder your father fell in love with her."
"Yes." Nick gave her a strange look. "I never knew either of my parents, but lately, for the first time, I've begun to feel as if I have a tangible connection to them. Andy said it would be this way someday."
Zinnia touched his hand. "Nick, if you're right, it wasn't just your father who was killed in the course of the expedition. Professor DeForest told me that five men vanished in the jungle. Do you realize what that means? Someone murdered the entire expedition team and then altered all of the records."
"The sixth man," Nick whispered.
"What?"
"My father's letter clearly says that six men were due to leave in the morning, remember?"
"Yes." Zinnia drew a deep breath. "But DeForest said there were only five."
"I know. I've been assuming that DeForest got the number wrong just like he got so much else wrong. I figured he took a guess. My father's previous two teams had each consisted of five men including himself. But what if old Demented was right for once in his life? What if only five men were scheduled to be on the team but at the last minute a sixth was added?"
"That would mean that whoever murdered Bartholomew Chastain and the other four men was a member of the expedition," Zinnia whispered.
"Yes. And when the killer returned, he tried to rewrite history. Anyone who can destroy records so thoroughly is capable of planting a few false ones."
"Why would your father have accepted a last-minute addition to the team?" Zinnia asked. "You said he always insisted on experienced jungle men. If he only wanted five and he had those five, why take on a sixth?"
Nick's smile was slow and infinitely cold. "I don't know. But I can take a guess. He may have had to accept the sixth man if that man was the one who had underwritten the entire expedition."
"But the university officials would have known about the sixth man. They would have known that he went out on the expedition." Zinnia waved her hands, exasperated with circles within circles. "Good lord, if that was the case, their records would show that there was an expedition. Instead, they show that it was canceled."
Nick shook his head. "If the sixth man was a paranoid matrix-talent who never told the university officials that he intended to join the team, it would all fit."
Zinnia breathed deeply. "A paranoid matrix?"
"I agree with you. This entire affair has the fingerprints of a matrix all over it," Nick said softly. "A matrix who undoubtedly knew or suspected that my father was also a matrix."
"And didn't trust him?"
"Right."
Zinnia thought that through. "Talk about conspiracy theories. If what you're saying is correct, then whoever funded the Third Expedition was also part of it."
"He was there when my father made his discovery, whatever it was. He understood the significance of it. After he killed my father and the other four men, he took the journal. When he returned, he concealed the records of his own involvement so that there was no way he could be traced to the expedition. And then he systematically erased all documents relating to the venture."
"Nick, hang on here. You're going too fast for me. If the killer has had the journal safely hidden for the past thirty-five years, why would the rumors about it have suddenly started up in the past few months?"
"From what I know of the rare-book trade," Nick said, "I'd guess that the journal may have been lost or stolen recently. It was resold to that collector in New Portland who then died."
"And poor Morris Fenwick came across it in the estate sale."
"I told you that whoever searched Morris's shop the other night was not actually looking for anything," Nick said. "There was no pattern to the way the place had been torn apart."