Date: Tue, 27 Aug 1996 13:20:26 -0600 (MDT) From: "Katherine R. Freymuth" Subject: Theresa - Chapter 12 Message-ID: Chapter 12 The Cipher "Medical team to the Waiting Room!" This time is was Al calling over the intercom. He held Chris as Chris slid off the Waiting Room table and onto the floor. "Just hang on, kid," Al told him as Chris shook uncontrollably. "Just hang in there. Help is on the way." *This can't be a purely psychological thing!* Al thought as he held Chris. *We were really gaining ground together and then this happens!* Al let Chris go as the medical team hurried into the Waiting Room. He slowly stood up and backed away to allow the med-techs to work. Verbina hurried in a moment later, concerned. "Another attack?" Al nodded in response. Verbina's eyes lowered in sympathy. "Looks like this one's worse than the last." Al's eyes widened. "Wait a second. This one's worse? Doesn't that kind of negate your psychological impact theory, especially since he's finally beginning to cope with the loss of his family?" "Not necessarily," Verbina told him. "He might not actually be coping with the loss." "If you're telling me he's feeding me a line of bull, then you're full of it. You weren't in here for the past two hours. The kid's really coming out. Now, there has got to be a physical reason for the seizures at least." Verbina nodded with understanding. "Okay, I'll have the med-techs do a complete physical run-down on him, including brain scans." "Thank you," Al told her with a smile. A very winning smile. Verbina couldn't help but smile back. "Now," he asked, "what about his paralysis? You think there could be a physical reason for that?" "We'll see but I don't see it. I'm certain that it's psychological,"Verbina told him. "You saw his record. No doctor could find anything wrong with his legs." She took a breath. "How are you doing with him?" "I think I'm getting through to him. I think he has the courage to realize his denial of what happened." Al looked towards Chris. He could tell the kid was still in great pain. "Poor kid," he said quietly. Finally, after about five minutes, Chris seemed calmed down. Al walked up to him and crouched down. "You okay, kid?" he asked. "I th-th-think so," Chris stuttered back. Al gave Chris a grin. "Okay. Now, our doctors are going to make sure your okay. They're going to ask you some questions about your health and it's very important that you tell them." Chris nodded his head. Al stood up and left the room, allowing the med-techs to give Chris the physical. Verbina followed Al, a concerned look on her face. "What's the matter?" Al asked. "Still concerned about Chris?" "Actually, I'm concerned about Sam. I'm worried how Chris' seizures are affecting him." "What do you mean?" "Sam may be strongly neurological linked with Chris, which would mean he could have felt at least some of Chris' seizures." Al's eyes widened. "Ziggy, what's Sam's time?" "6:47 AM," Ziggy answered. "There is an eighty-nine percent chance that he is awake, since Joseph Sterling's funeral begins at approximately seven-thirty." Al hurried towards the Imaging Chamber door. "I'm going to check on Sam. Keep a close eye on Chris." ********************************************* The pain had finally subsided, to Sam's relief. He had no idea what had happened. Or why it happened, for that matter. He heard Jeff calling from outside. "I have some coffee waiting for you, if you want it." "Thanks," Sam answered, leaning himself against the bathroom door. He pushed himself away from the door and got into the bath, relieved by the comfort of the hot water. He quickly washed, got out of the tub and started drying himself off. "You'd better hurry up. You'll be late for the funeral." Sam jumped at the sound of Al's voice. He turned towards Al and quickly jumped back towards the wall in astonishment. "Kinda jumpy, aren't you?" Al stated more than asked. His eyes widened. "My Gawd! Beeks was right! You felt that, didn't you? How do you feel now?" "Terrible," Sam answered honestly. "My heart's racing. My head hurts. And I feel as if..." He stopped. "Felt what?" he asked, realizing what Al said. Al hesitated. "We're having some problems in the Waiting Room." "What kind of problems?" Al looked at his watch. "You'd better dress while I talk or you'll be late." Sam nodded, sat in the wheelchair, and went back to Chris' bedroom. Al followed. "What problems?" he repeated the question as he dressed. "Well, apparently you and Chris have an unusually strong link between you two which means that you can feel anything that happens to him." "So, that's the reason for the spasms of pain?" "Yes. Chris had been having unexplained seizures in the Waiting Room. At first we thought it was psychosomatic." "But you don't think so now," Sam concluded. "We're not sure but Verbina and I don't think so," Al told him. "What we do know is that his paralysis IS psychosomatic." "Chris can walk?" Sam said in astonishment. "The injuries he receive in the accident were superficial. A few cuts and bruises and a _temporary_ paralysis in the legs. He should have been walking eight months ago." "Are you sure?" "Sam, I've spent the last two hours in the Waiting Room with him. Believe me. He can walk if he wants to." "What have you got on Jeff's murder?" Al raised the handlink and consulted it. "He's killed in three hours on the roof of the Stevens and Sterling Building. And Sam? I found the answer to the code." "What?" Sam asked excitedly. "It's really a cipher. You know, one of those things where you substitute a letter for a number. It's the alphabet, Sam! The alphabet!" Sam closed his eyes. "Why didn't we see that before?" "I don't know. But you'll have to worry about that later. Right now, you have a funeral to go to." What might have been a beautiful and touching ceremony was darkened by cloudy skies and an almost completely empty cemetery. Joseph Sterling was a very quiet man and had had very few friends, all of whom came to the early ceremony. Two of the mourners never even knew the deceased. One was obliged to be there; the other wasn't. But both were there to pay their respects. Al was reminded of his father's funeral. It was a day just like this. There were very few mourners for the Italian construction worker. Al's mother had long ago gone away and hadn't shown up for the funeral. Al held his little sister gently by the shoulders while she cried. But Al's face was like stone as his father's casket was lowered into the ground. Al turned away from the Sterling funeral and slowly walked away, receiving a look of concern from Sam. He walked the ground until he came to a certain point. It had been years since he had been here but this was the spot. He walked a little further and stopped. Looking down, he saw the old headstone: Julius Francesco Calavicci Born: March 13, 1901 Died: July 17, 1945 There was nothing else on the stone. A mere indication that the man had ever lived. Al couldn't remember the last time he was here. It was certainly before he joined the Navy. And it was around the time he learned of his sister's death. He remembered that he had cried because he felt he had disappointed his father by not being there for his sister. Now he knew that he did what he could for Trudy. He was no longer bitter towards himself about that. He knelt on the Imaging Chamber floor, wishing he could feel the wet ground on his legs which would assure him that he was really there. He lowered his head and sighed. "I'm sorry, Papa," he said softly to the ground. "I'm sorry. I know I haven't been the best son in the world but I'm trying. I'm really trying." He smiled. "You see these?" He pointed to a row of medals he had pinned on his white jacket. "They're medals of honor. I'm an admiral in the Navy. Last time I saw you, I was an actor, remember?" He laughed slightly. "I miss you, Papa. I love you," he whispered. "Ti amo," he repeated quietly in Italian. "Al," Sam called softly from behind. "Are you okay?" Al suddenly realized he was crying and gently wiped a tear away. "I'm fine. Thanks." He stood up and smiled at Sam. "Your father?" Sam asked. Al nodded. "Where's Jeff?" "He needed a few minutes alone," Sam answered. "And I noticed you leaving so I thought I might see how you were." Al sighed. "You know, I didn't even cry at his funeral." "I didn't cry at my father's funeral," Sam pointed out. "You were twenty-one! I was ten!" Al exclaimed. "You'd think a ten-year-old kid would cry at his father's funeral!" "Al, what are you doing?" Sam worried. Al smiled slightly. "I guess I'm trying to find some excuse for my not coming to see him in the past forty-six years. Listen, Sam. I'm going to go visit Trudy..." His sentence was interrupted by a loud squeak from the handlink. Al lifted it hesitantly. "Sam, Jeff's gone!" "What? How?" "Ziggy didn't calculate from Greenwich Mean Time. Jeff is going to die in about twenty minutes!" "Oh, my god!" Sam exclaimed. "Sam, hurry! Go!" Sam started to wheel away. "Forget the damn wheelchair!" Al yelled. "Go!" "Find him, Al," Sam ordered before running towards the parking area. Jeff's car was still there. Sam jumped into the car, quickly hot-wired it, and drove towards Manhattan. A moment later, Al reappeared beside Sam. "Sam, he's locked up in the trunk of a navy colored Mercedes-Benz and Ziggy has absolutely nothing on the driver. I tried to get a look at him but the guy's wearing these sunglasses that pretty much prevent anyone from really seeing anything to help identify him with." "Al, input this into Ziggy and have her decipher it based on the alphabet. 6, 15, 24, 19, 20, 5, 22, 14, 26, Index A-M, 1, 4, 18, 23, Index N-Z, 17, 21, 9, 13, 3, 24, Propaedia, 2, 7, 8, 10, 11, 12, 16, 17, 27, 28, 29. If I'm right, the indexes separate words and the propaedia is the end. The rest are garbage." Al put in the numbers as Sam recited them. "Ziggy's got it. You're right. It reads: FOXSTEVNZ, ADRW, QUIMCY." Al grimaced. "You've got to give ol' Joe as A for imagination." "So, Andy Stevens killed Joseph Sterling? My gawd! No wonder he's after Jeff and Chris! I had the code which would prove his guilt! No wonder he fought us tooth and nail in the house!" "Sam, you've only got fifteen minutes to get there!" Al told him. "Step on it!" ------------------------------------------- Going like a breeze in the wind! Chapter 13 next! Kat