The Einstein Equation

14 The Big Decision

Sam could not find conclusive proof that the Dire Serpent was capable of the atrocity and destruction that George Masters tried to convince him of. Wherever he inquired, he was met with disbelief or ignorance, which only reiterated his belief that Masters was some kind of paranoid madman. However, he did seem so sincere that Sam kept a low profile from Purdue until he had sufficient proof, something he could not gather from his usual sources.

Before he took the footage to Purdue, Sam elected to take one last trip to a very reliable source of inspiration and keeper of clandestine wisdom — the one and only Aidan Glaston. Since Sam saw the article Glaston published in the recent newspaper edition, he figured the Irishman would be the best man to ask about the Dire Serpent and its mythos.

Minus a set of wheels, Sam called a taxi. It was better than trying to salvage the wreck he used to call his car, which would have him exposed. What he did not need was the police enquiring into the high-speed chase and the probable subsequent arrest for endangering the lives of citizens and reckless driving. As long as the local authorities thought him missing, he had time to get his facts straight for when he finally resurfaced.

When he arrived at the Edinburgh Post, he was told that Aidan Glaston was on assignment. The new editor did not know Sam personally, but she allowed him a few minutes in her office.

“Janice Noble,” she smiled. “Good to meet such an esteemed member of our vocation. Please, sit down.”

“Thank you, Ms. Noble,” Sam replied, relieved that the offices were practically void of staff today. He was not in the mood to see the old slugs who used to trample him when he was a novice, not even to rub their faces in his celebrity and success. “I will make this quick,” he said. “I just need to know where I can get hold of Aidan. I know it is privileged information, but I need to get in touch with him concerning my own investigation right now.”

She leaned forward on her elbows and locked her hands gently. Rings of thick gold adorned both her wrists and the bangles made a dreadful sound on the polished surface of the desk. “Mr. Cleave, I would love to help you, but as I said before, Aidan is undercover on a politically sensitive assignment and we cannot afford to blow his cover. You understand what it is like. You should not even be asking me this.”

“I am aware,” Sam retorted, “but what I am embroiled in is far more important than some politician’s secret love life or the typical backstabbing the tabloids love to write about.”

The editor looked instantly put off. She took a harsher tone with Sam. “Please, do not think because you have garnered fame and fortune by your less than graceful involvements, that you can wedge your way in here and assume you know what my people are working on.”

“Listen to me, lady. I need information of a very delicate nature, and it involves the annihilation of entire countries,” Sam countered her firmly. “All I need is a phone number.”

She frowned. “Who are you working for on this case?”

“Freelance,” he answered quickly. “It is something I picked up from an acquaintance and I have reason to believe that it has validity. Only Aidan can confirm this for me. Please, Ms. Noble. Please.”

“I must say I am intrigued,” she conceded, jotting down a foreign landline number. “This is a safe line, but call only once, Mr. Cleave. I monitor this line, so I can see if you are making a nuisance of our man while he is working.”

“No problem. I just need one call,” Sam said zealously. “Thank you, thank you!”

She licked her lips as she wrote, clearly preoccupied by what Sam said. Sliding the paper over to him, she said, “Listen, Mr. Cleave, perhaps we can collaborate on what you have?”

“Let me just confirm first if this is worth pursuing, Ms. Noble. If there is something to this, we can talk,” he winked. She looked satisfied. Sam’s charm and handsome features could get him into the Pearly Gates while he was on fire.

Back in the taxi, en route back home, the radio news reported that the latest summit called to convene would be addressing renewable energy sources. Several world leaders would be attending the meeting, along with a few delegates from the scientific community in Belgium.

“Why Belgium, of all places?” Sam found himself asking aloud. He did not realize that the driver, a pleasant middle-aged lady, was listening.

“Probably one of those cloaked debacles,” she remarked.

“How do you mean?” Sam asked, quite amused at the sudden interest.

“Well, Belgium is the home of NATO, for instance, and the European Union, so I can imagine they would probably host something like that,” she chatted.

“Something like… what?” Sam pried. Since the thing with Purdue and Masters had begun, he had been frightfully oblivious to current affairs, but the lady seemed to be well informed, so he enjoyed her conversation instead. She rolled her eyes.

“Och, your guess is as good as mine, my lad,” she cackled. “Call me paranoid, but I have always been of the thought that these little meetings were nothing more than a charade to discuss nefarious plans to further fuck up the governments…”

Her eyes grew wide and she covered her mouth with one hand. “Oh my God, excuse me for swearing,” she apologized to Sam’s delight.

“Never you mind, madam,” he laughed. “I have a lady friend, a historian, that could make sailors blush.”

“Oh, good,” she sighed. “I never normally cuss to my passengers.”

“So, you think they are fucking up governments this way?” he smiled, still relishing in the humor of the woman’s words.

“Aye, I do. But I cannae really explain, you see. It is one of them things I just feel, you know? Like, why do they need to have a meeting between seven world leaders? What about the rest of the countries? I rather feel it is like a schoolyard, where a group of sprogs have a get-together during recess and the other children wonder, ‘Hey what’s that about?’… You know?” she rambled.

“Aye, I see what you are getting at,” he agreed. “So, they have not come out and said what the summit was about?”

She shook her head. “They talk around it. Bloody cheats. I tell ya, the media is the puppet of these bullies.”

Sam had to smile. She sounded much like Nina, and Nina was usually dead-on with her anticipations. “I hear you. Well, rest assured that some of us in the media are trying to get the truth out, no matter the cost.”

Her head swung around halfway, so that she almost looked back at him, but the road compelled her not to. “Oh my! Again, I put my bloody foot in my bloody mouth!” she lamented. “You are a member of the press?”

“I am an investigative journalist,” Sam winked with that same beguilement he used on the wives of dignitaries he used to interview. He could make them reveal catastrophic truths about their husbands sometimes.

“What are you investigating?” she asked in her adorably layman manner. Sam could tell that she lacked the proper terminology and knowledge, but her common sense and articulation of her opinions were sharp and logical.

“I am looking into a possible plot to stop a rich man from doing long division and destroy the world in the process,” Sam jested.

Narrowing her eyes in the rear view mirror, the lady taxi driver scoffed and then shrugged, “Alright then. Don’t tell me.”

Her dark haired passenger was still amused and looked out the window in silence on the way back to his apartment complex. As they passed the old schoolyard, he seemed to perk up, but she did not ask why. When she followed his line of sight, she saw only rubble and debris of what looked like shattered glass of a car crash, but she found it peculiar that such a site would host a vehicle collision.

“Could you please wait for me?” Sam asked her as they approached his home.

“’Course!” she exclaimed.

“Thanks, I will be swift at it,” he promised as he exited the car.

“Take yer time, love,” she grinned. “The meter’s running.”

When Sam bolted into the complex, he latched in the electronic lock, making sure to secure the gate behind him before racing up the stairs to his front door. He called Aidan on the number the editor of the Post gave him. To Sam’s surprised, his old colleague answered almost immediately.

Sam and Aidan both had little time to spare, so they kept the conversation concise.

“So, where did they send your worn-out ass this time, mate?” Sam smiled as he grabbed a half-flat soda from the fridge and chugged it down. It had been a while since he ate or drank anything, but he was in too much of a hurry now.

“I cannot disclose that information, Sammo,” Aidan replied happily, always busting Sam’s balls for not taking him with on assignments when they were still working at the newspaper.

“Oh come on,” Sam said, burping softly from the forced drink. “Listen, have you ever heard of a myth called the Dire Serpent?”

Cannot say I have, son,” Aidan answered promptly. “What is it? Tied to some Nazi relic again?”

“Aye. No. I don’t know. It is supposed to be an equation devised by Albert Einstein himself a while after the 1905 paper, from what I was told,” Sam elaborated. “They say it holds the key to some terrible outcome when applied correctly. Know anything like that?”

Aidan hummed in thought and finally admitted, “Nope. No, Sammo. I have never heard of anything like that. Either your source is letting you in on something so huge that only the highest orders know about it… or you are being played, mate.”

Sam sighed. “Alright, then. I just wanted to run this by you. Listen, Aid, whatever you are in on over there, just be careful, you hear?”

“Aw, I did not know you cared, Sammo,” Aidan teased. “I promise I’ll wash behind me ears every night, okay?”

“Yeah, alright, fuck you too,” Sam smiled. He heard Aidan roaring in laughter in his hoarse old voice before he ended the call. With his former colleague not knowing about Masters’ claim, Sam was pretty sure that the big fuss was overrated. It was safe to give Purdue the footage with the Einstein equation after all. One last thing had to be taken care of before he left, though.

“Lacy!” he cried down the corridor to the apartment in the corner of his level. “Lacy!”

A young teenage girl came stumbling out, fixing the ribbon in her hair.

“Oi Sam,” she called as she jogged back to his place. “I’m coming. I’m coming.”

“Please watch Bruich for me for just one night, alright?” he begged hastily, picking up the disgruntled old feline from his lazing on the couch.

“You are lucky my mum has a crush on you, Sam,” Lacy preached as Sam shoved cat food in her pockets. “She hates cats.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he apologized, “but I have to get to my friend’s house with some important stuff.”

“Espionage stuff?” she gasped excitedly.

Sam shrugged, “Aye, top secret shite.”

“Awesome,” she smiled, stroking Bruich gently. “Okay, come Bruich, let’s go! Bye Sam!” And with that, she was gone, getting back inside from the cold and wet cement of the hallway.

It took Sam less than four minutes to pack an overnight bag and shove the much sought after footage into his camera case. Soon he was ready to leave to appease Purdue.

‘God, he is going to have my hide,’ Sam thought. ‘He must be pissed as hell.’