Free Fall

Fifty-Seven

Ottawa, Canada

In downtown Ottawa Tucker Ollenck rubbed his reddened eyes.

He hadn’t slept since he’d read the news story online about the FBI’s search for the people behind the Zarathustra emails in connection with that plane crash in London.

He knew exactly who that was. Problem was, he wasn’t sure if he should alert the FBI.

He went to the window of his fifteenth-floor office in the Canadian capital, where he worked with a global IT firm, and stared at the Peace Tower for an answer to his dilemma. After a long, troubled moment, he returned to his desk, went to the FBI’s website for the New York Field Office.

He scrawled the number on yellow note paper.

He rolled down his sleeves, slid on his jacket and told the office manager that he was taking an early lunch.

Tucker walked east across the Mackenzie King Bridge, over the canal to the Rideau Centre, the major downtown mall. He bought a disposable phone and a prepaid card. Then he went back outside to the bridge, and while gazing upon the canal toward the castle-like spires of the Chateau Laurier Hotel, he made an anonymous call to the FBI in New York.

After a few general questions he was put on hold.

Several moments passed, and he was connected.

“FBI, Agent Brock.”

“Sir, I’ve got information about your search for Zarathustra.”

“Go ahead.”

“I don’t want to give you my identity.”

“That’s fine. Go ahead.”

“I went to Stanford and became good friends with Seth Hagen. The guy’s a computer engineering legend. He made a fortune developing video game systems, but he became something of a social recluse, said he didn’t really like people.”

“Okay…”

“He sort of dropped off the grid, but I kept in touch. I think I was one of the few people he talked to. Then he surprised me when he said he’d met this girl, Veyda, online. Seth never praised anyone, but he told me how she had a brilliant mind and he was in love. She was attending MIT, but dropped out. He said her paper about some wild theory on the philosophies of Hegel and Nietzsche had blown him away.

“He let me read it before I had dinner with them when I was in Washington, DC. I’ll never forget it. The paper was chilling. It supported killing people to advance society. I got such a weird vibe off Veyda. The woman struck me as being even smarter than Seth, but very, very scary.”

“Scary how?”

“Her eyes. It was like she was dead inside. I honestly thought they had both lost their minds the way they were talking about extraordinary people, free will, the right to commit crimes without conscience. It was all kind of disturbing.”

“Do you have a surname for the woman?”

“The woman’s name is Veyda Hyde. The email excerpts could’ve been pulled from her paper. I swear that’s her. Moreover, she was studying aircraft computer systems at MIT. See, it all fits.”

“What else can you tell us?”

“The last I heard, they were living at Seth’s place in Hyattsville, Maryland. I’ll give you the address.”