In photographs, Sarah was usually posed in shorts and a khaki shirt, with binoculars around her neck, next to a Land Rover. With her short, dark hair and her strong, muscular body, she looked rugged but glamorous at the same time. At least, that was how she appeared to Kelly, who always studied the pictures intently, taking in every detail.
"Never heard of her," Arby said.
Thorne said, "Spending too much time with computers, Arby?"
Arby said, "No." Kelly saw Arby's shoulders hunch, and he sort of withdrew into himself, the way he always did when he felt criticized. Sulky, he said, "Animal behaviorist?"
"That's right," Thorne said. "I know Levine's talked to her several times in the last few weeks. She's helping him with all this equipment, when it finally goes into the field. Or advising him. Or something. Or maybe the connection is with Malcolm. After all, she was in love with Malcolm."
"I don't believe it", Kelly said. "Maybe he was in love with her...."
Thorne looked at her. "You've met her?"
"No. But I know about her."
"I see." Thorne said no more. He could see all the signs of hero worship, and he approved. A girl could do worse than admire Sarah Harding. At least she wasn't an athlete or a rock star. In fact, it was refreshing for a kid to admire somebody who actually tried to advance knowledge.
The phone continued to ring. There was no answer.
"Well, we know Levine's equipment is in order," Thorne said. "Because the call is going through. We know that much."
Arby said, "Can you trace it?"
"Unfortunately, no. And if we keep this up, we'll probably drain the field battery, which means- "
There was a click, and they heard a man's voice, remarkably distinct and clear: "Levine."
"Okay. Good. He's there," Thorne said, nodding. He pushed the button on his handset. "Richard? It's Doc Thorne."
Over the speakerphone, they heard a sustained static hiss. Then a cough, and a scratchy voice said: "Hello? Hello? It's Levine here."
Thorne pressed the button on his phone. "Richard. It's Thorne. Do you read me?"
"Hello?" Levine said, at the other end. "Hello?"
Thorne sighed. "Richard. You have to press the 'T' button, for transmit. Over."
"Hello?" Another cough, deep and rasping. "This is Levine. Hello?"
Thorne shook his head in disgust. "Obviously, be doesn't know how to work it. Damn! I went over it very carefully with him. Of course he wasn't paying attention. Geniuses never pay attention. They think they know everything. These things aren't toys." He pushed the send button. "Richard, listen to me. You must push the 'T' in order to - "
"This is Levine. Hello? Levine. Please. I need help." A kind of groan. "If you can hear me, send help. Listen, I'm on the island, I managed to get here all right, but - "
A crackle. A hiss.
"Uh-oh," Thorne said.
"What is it?" Arby said, leaning forward.
"We're losing him."
"Why?"
"Battery," Thorne said. "It's going fast. Damn. Richard: where are you?"
Over the speakerphone, they heard Levine's voice: " - dead already - situation got - now - very serious - don't know - can hear me, but if you - get help - "
"Richard. Tell us where you are!"
The phone hissed, the transmission getting steadily worse. They heard Levine say: " - have me surrounded, and - vicious - can smell them especially - night - "
"What is he talking about?" Arby said.
" - to - injury - can't - not long - please - "
And then there was a final, fading hiss.
And suddenly the phone went dead.
Thorne clicked off his own handset, and turned off the speakerphone. He turned to the kids, who were both pale. "We have to find him," he said. "Right away."
SECOND CONFIGURATION
"Self-organization elaborates in complexity as the
system advances toward the chaotic edge."
IAN MALCOLM
Clues
Thorne unlocked the door to Levine's apartment, and flicked on the lights. They stared, astonished. Arby said, "It looks like a museum!"
Levine's two-bedroom apartment was decorated in a vaguely Asian style, with rich wooden cabinets, and expensive antiques. But the apartment was spotlessly clean, and most of the antiques were housed in plastic cases. Everything was neatly labeled. They walked slowly into the room.
"Does he live here?" Kelly said. She found it hard to believe. The apartment seemed so impersonal to her, almost inhuman. And her own apartment was such a mess all the time....
"Yeah, he does," Thorne said, pocketing the key. "It always looks like this. It's why he can never live with a woman. He can't stand to have anybody touch anything."
The living-room couches were arranged around a glass coffee table. On the table were four piles of books, each neatly aligned with the glass edge. Arby glanced at the titles. Catastrophe Theory and Emergent Structures. Inductive Processes in Molecular Evolution. Cellular Automata. Methodology of Non-Linear Adaptation. Phase Transition in Evolutionary Systems. There were also some older books, with titles in German.
Kelly sniffed the air. "Something cooking?"
"I don't know" Thorne said. He went into the dining room. Along the wall, he saw a hot plate with a row of covered dishes. They saw a polished wood dining table, with a place set for one, silver and cut glass. Soup steamed from a bowl.
Thorne walked over and picked up a sheet of paper on the table and read: "Lobster bisque, baby organic greens, seared ahi tuna." A yellow Post-it was attached. "Hope your trip was good! Romelia."