The 4Th Icon

By Harry R. Albers

In the middle of the night a famous astronomer disappears on the island of Molokai. The only clues are three icons on his computer.

So begins The 4th Icon, Harry R. Albers tale of murder, intrigue, and mystery. The design and construction of a next generation telescope that will unlock the secrets of the universe ... the dark matter ... dark energy ... the expansion of the universe ... is in doubt.

Alexandra Lancaster and Dusty McCrae resolve to find out what happened to Nathan Sterling, and risk their lives in the attempt. As the icons are deciphered, they lead to Ithaca, New York ... Frederick, Maryland ... Harpers Ferry, West Virginia ... and back a quarter century to an event that caused the disappearance.

Finally, back on Molokai, the tangled clues reveal an amazing story that began on the edge of a cliff overlooking a raging ocean, and decades later ended there.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Oct 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9781491707067

Harry R. Albers

Harry R. Albers has degrees in physics from the University of Pittsburgh and Cornell University. He has previously published three books: Murder at Lake Tomahawk, The Discovery, and The 4th Icon. His career has included the Smithsonian Institution, the Association of Universities for Research in Astronomy (AURA), Barnard College and San Diego State University Research Foundation. He and his wife, Jean, have three children, five grandchildren, and live in San Diego and the Big Island of Hawai’i.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

S tars filled the sky. Waves crashing into the lava cliff were visible only to dark-adjusted eyes, the visibility as finely tuned as the horizon, where stars met the ocean.

Standing at the edge of the cliff the lovers could feel the pounding of the waves, exhilarating in the trade wind and spray from the surf.

They had met on the island two weeks ago and fallen in love. Lovemaking on the cliff was wild, in keeping with the surroundings, spontaneous, though spontaneity was now their routine.

Naked and beautiful, in her early twenties, she seemed a Polynesian princess in command of her kingdom. A few years older, madly in love, he sought to possess her the way the sea encompassed one of its own.

Surfeited with joy, with craziness, with the need to embrace and show how much he loved her, he lifted her onto his shoulder, the softness and mystery of her body exciting him to daring acts. Screaming in mock terror she beat on him, begging to be put down. He carried her along the cliff, calling over the booming surf that she was his, would always be his, and this was the way chiefs took their brides.

She laughed and loved him for the craziness she hadn’t seen when they met. As he frolicked she became disoriented, and when he stumbled she knew panic, and then emptiness.

1

A lex Lancaster was frantic. Recently hired as vice president of the Chalmers Foundation, she was undertaking her first major assignment, organizing and running a high-level meeting of astronomers on the Big Island of Hawai’i. The symposium was part of the twenty-fifth anniversary celebration of the Chalmers 160-inch telescope.

She didn’t know what to make of the scientists. If the topic wasn’t astronomy, many of them couldn’t carry on a conversation without trying to escape or saying something so weird she couldn’t tell if it was an attempt at a joke or to make her feel inadequate. She was familiar with the term crazy scientist, but didn’t know they came in flocks. Even the most distinguished among them was a surprise.

Lionel Hastings had visited her hotel room earlier under the pretext of a problem with his travel arrangements and tried to seduce her. He was the elder statesmen among the astronomers, and had seemed the epitome of the distinguished academic, polite and professional. The fact his wife had accompanied him to the meeting and was ensconced a few doors away hadn’t prevented him from pinning her to the bed and pulling up her skirt while fumbling to remove his pants. His inability to multi-task provided her with the opportunity to wriggle free and slam him on the side of the head with a metal pitcher of ice water, dampening his ardor and forcing a stumbling retreat to the door with his pants around his ankles.

In a rage, her first impulse was to march down the hall to confront and embarrass him in front of his wife. Instead, she took deep breaths and forced herself to calm down and collect her thoughts.

Minutes later she knocked on their door and Mrs. Hastings answered. Short and plump, wearing one of the hotel’s fluffy white terry cloth robes, it appeared she was molting.

Why, Miss Lancaster . . . what can I do for you? I was just starting to get ready for the cocktail party when Lionel had an accident. Is that why you’re here?

I’m sorry to hear it. What happened? Lancaster asked.

He looked into the pool and spa to see if I might want to use them tomorrow when he’s in his meetings . . . it’s just like Lionel, always taking care of me, but he slipped on the wet floor and hit his head on something. He’s in the bathroom taking care of it, but I’m sure he’ll be out soon.

I’d like to make sure he’s all right, and I have something important to tell him, Lancaster said, all business.

Hastings emerged holding a towel against his head, shock apparent at seeing her. Oh . . . ah . . . Miss Lancaster. I hope you didn’t misconstrue—

Lancaster held up her hand to interrupt him. Sorry to bother you so late, Dr. Hastings. I wanted you to know if we don’t pursue the travel matter you brought to my attention earlier this evening, I think it can be resolved. If you want to take it further, I’m a lawyer and I can get really nasty. I’d even look forward to it.

Oh . . . right . . . the travel matter. You mean everything can be resolved satisfactorily to all parties?

That’s my understanding, if you accept my proposal.

I’m sure I’ll agree with your proposal, and I hope this hasn’t caused you any trouble, Miss Lancaster. There’s obviously been a misunderstanding, with no blame on any part.

Then we should put it to bed, Dr. Hastings . . . so to speak. Consider it done, unless I hear further about the incident from anyone . . . and I do mean anyone.

Yes . . . I agree that’s a most satisfactory resolution. Thank you for your help.

No problem. Anything you want to do about your accident? We could sue the hotel.

No . . . no . . . it’s my fault . . . a cut, nothing to worry about.

Are you sure, dear? It looks worse than that to me, Mrs. Hastings said, concern evident.

I’m fine, my dear, he answered.

Lancaster walked back to her room, wondering if she had done the right thing. She hated letting a pompous ass like Hastings get away with his little adventure. It would be satisfying to go after the bastard, but it would cause a commotion and she knew Hastings would follow the male knee-jerk reaction and say she’d lured him to her room and been the initiator. The last thing she needed was a flap when she was already in over her head with these damned astronomers. She was sick of them, and the meetings hadn’t even started.

She was used to working with people who were well dressed and coiffed, made attempts at witty repartee and had subjects of vital importance to discuss, even if the subjects turned out to be themselves. Here, the men tended toward beards and sandals, the women toward no makeup and hair an afterthought. They eschewed business clothes and dressed as if they were going to a beach picnic. One person even walked around in his socks. Meeting on the Big Island of Hawai’i accounted for some of the casualness, but not all. What worried her most was her knowledge of astronomy was limited to one semester of a survey course, the main feature of which was meeting one night a week at the professor’s home for tea and a lecture, and then taking turns with thirty students on his backyard telescope.

She took a bottle of bourbon and can of ginger ale from the mini-bar, poured them over ice and plunked down in an easy chair, noticing the bed was wet and she’d have to call housekeeping.

Can you believe the nerve? she thought to herself, letting a sip of the drink slide down her throat. He actually thought I was interested in screwing him. I’ll screw him all right, if I get the chance, but not the way he thinks. What led him to that conclusion? There isn’t a man here I’d consider going to bed with, and how did I ever get myself into this situation? I wonder if the Smithsonian will give me my old job back?

Halfway through her second drink she began relaxing and thought of the story her fiancé had told her about the man who was always stressed. He decided in order to fall asleep at night he had to totally relax his body, so he started with his toes by repeating the mantra . . . ‘toes relax . . . toes relax.’ Next came ‘feet relax . . . feet relax.’ And, in order, ankles, knees, hips and so on as he meticulously worked his way up his body. Just as he was falling asleep a gorgeous naked woman entered the bedroom. ‘Everybody up! . . . Everybody up!’ . . . he ordered.

She giggled and realized how exhausted she was. If she planned to be dazzling at the cocktail party this evening, she had to settle down and get her head straight.

.     .     .

She had spent the previous eight years working as chief legal counsel for the Smithsonian Institution and loved most of it, but its policy of assigning major legal matters to outside counsel was frustrating. It put her in the situation of monitoring the work of others when she knew she could do better, and her arguments against the policy were rejected without chance of appeal since policy was set by the Smithsonian’s board of regents, and the chair of the regents happened to be the Chief Justice of the United States of America.

At a crossroads, when she heard of the vacant vice presidency at the Chalmers Foundation she applied. Since the Foundation was located in Washington, D. C., she wouldn’t have to move. She liked living at the center of the universe, as Washingtonians referred to their city, and she had a romantic interest there. In addition, her experience was in the non-profit world, and she worried it might be too much of a stretch for a career change and a jump to the private sector. If she handled it right, she could get some of the powerful Smithsonian regents to recommend her to Stanley Chalmers, the founder and head of his foundation.

A chance encounter with Chalmers had helped her. It came at a cocktail party fundraiser for the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, held in the Center’s crystal-chandeliered foyer. He’d been standing alone when she approached him.

Mr. Ambassador . . . good to see you again . . . I hope you remember me.

Why . . . ah . . . hello, Miss . . . ah—

Alex Lancaster. I’m chief counsel for the Smithsonian. We met at a reception three years ago, and I forgive you if you don’t remember me.

Of course . . . Miss Lancaster . . . it’s nice to see a friendly face.

She knew he didn’t have a clue. But you must know everyone here. I’m surprised I caught you alone.

Too bad that’s not the case, Miss Lancaster. I pulled every string I could for an invitation to this event, and so far it’s been a colossal waste of time.

How so, sir, if you don’t mind me asking? It’s pretty elegant, even for this town.

Maybe elegance is my problem, Chalmers said.

What were your expectations for tonight?

Chalmers studied her before answering. I’ll be blunt with you, Miss Lancaster. I’ve been trying to get a seat on the board of the Kennedy Center for years. I’ve offered to pay the price of admission, if that’s what it takes, but so far the response has been a polite ‘thanks for your interest and we’d welcome a major contribution.’ That’s as far as things have gone, and I’m fed up. Until you made the evening more pleasant, I was about to leave.

If you don’t mind me saying so, Mr. Ambassador, it doesn’t sound like an insurmountable problem. Will you permit me to help?

What can you do?

Maybe nothing, but let’s give it a try. She put her arm through his and steered him in the direction of a small group huddled under the huge bronze bust of John F. Kennedy.

You may not be aware that in its infinite wisdom the Congress put the Kennedy Center under the Smithsonian’s administrative purview. As chief counsel, it gives me entrée with some of the movers and shakers. Let’s see how much shaking I can do.

2

S tanley Chalmers was frequently pissed about something. He was in his element hosting a party, but he had to admit hosting this celebration of astronomers in Hawai’i was different than the stiff diplomatic affairs to which he was accustomed. He was mad because the twenty-fifth anniversary celebration for the telescope named for him was a charade. The telescope had not produced the amazing discoveries his alma mater had promised when they sold him the idea of funding it. And he had to rub shoulders with people like Arthur Fielding, chairman of the board and founder of the Pacific Science Institute, which also operated a telescope on the summit of the dormant Mauna Kea volcano. The Fielding Telescope was much newer and larger than his and was producing discovery after discovery, giving Fielding the national and international acclaim that could have been his. He even had to stoop to ask Fielding to help him evaluate what had gone wrong with the Chalmers 160. The stratagem they devised was to commemorate the anniversary celebration by convening a top-level meeting of astronomers to evaluate the telescope’s performance and give recommendations for its future.

In his late sixties, Chalmers had inherited his tobacco-generated fortune as a young man. His financial support to promising political candidates who shared his values and ideas about how the country should be run had led to a series of appointments as ambassador to countries where life was good and the national interest not at risk. He was still addressed as Mr. Ambassador, or Your Excellency, although no one seemed to remember his posts or was aware of his accomplishments.

In addition to supporting politicians, he had taken an early interest in philanthropy. At first he was content to consider unsolicited proposals from people and organizations with varied causes. One of the first that had caught his interest was from his alma mater, which contacted him about a lead donation for a center for the performing arts. It intrigued him, and by the time the university president with his cadre of professional fundraisers finished selling him the project he had agreed to pay for a building, in return for having it named the Chalmers Center for the Performing Arts. He was also appointed to a seat on the university’s board of overseers. It came as a revelation that being a philanthropist had a ‘profitable’ side. It massaged his ego and satisfied his need for recognition.

It wasn’t long before he centered his philanthropy on his alma mater. He looked forward to the quarterly overseer meetings, was wined and dined, trotted out for recognition once a year at halftime of the homecoming football game, and his name appeared prominently in the literature associated with the center named for him. The president and his fundraisers routinely solicited his advice on university matters, placed him on important-sounding committees, and included him in numerous fundraising undertakings. He could always be counted on to contribute to a worthy cause, as long as the university didn’t run out of laurels.

As he became more sophisticated, he realized that philanthropists with fortunes significantly less than his were nationally, even internationally, recognized for their good deeds, while he was still unknown outside the university community. This chafed at him, but he did nothing about it until an opportunity arose a year after the gala opening of the Chalmers Center for the Performing Arts. The dean of the college of sciences approached him at an overseers’ meeting with a proposal to fund a ‘next generation’ telescope. When the dean said the new instrument would be called the Chalmers 160-inch Telescope, and that discoveries made with it would result in his name being publicized worldwide, he was hooked.

As negotiations for the telescope proceeded, Chalmers insisted it be located on the summit of Mauna Kea, on the Big Island of Hawai’i. From his research he had ascertained the 13,796-foot volcano was the best observing site in the world for telescopes, because of its height above most of the distorting effects of the atmosphere and because of the dark clear skies in Hawai’i, untainted by smog and the lights of civilization. If this was his opportunity for recognition, he wanted things done right.

The dean was devastated by Chalmers’ condition, and pointed out the added cost and the university’s lack of experience operating a remote facility. The dean preferred the nearby mountains of western Pennsylvania, where he operated a modest observatory. Locating the telescope at the observatory he’d built almost single-handedly would be the crowning achievement to the dean’s career, and would turn ‘his’ observatory into a world-class facility.

Chalmers had been adamant, had brought the issue to the president of the university, and declared he was sure he could find another institution happy to accept his gift and condition for a state-of-the-art telescope. The dean was vanquished, Stanley Chalmers accommodated and awarded an honorary doctorate of sciences. The president of the university became known in academic circles for his fundraising prowess.

While the selection of Mauna Kea for the telescope was inspired, the dean had been right. There was a tremendous difference between operating a 160-inch telescope at a remote site and the 40-inch telescope the university maintained at its nearby observatory. When the new telescope was built and christened the Chalmers 160, it was one of the largest and most modern telescopes in the world, capable of major discoveries. The parabolic 160-inch diameter mirror collected light from stars and galaxies so far away their light had traveled to earth for more than ten billion years. The telescope was a time machine, gathering and analyzing light that had left its source when the universe was much younger. To a significant degree scientific discoveries in astronomy were directly related to finding and seeing things no one had seen before, and the larger the telescope the fainter the objects that could be found. At its christening the Chalmers 160 was poised for discovery, and Stanley Chalmers for fame.

The problem was a state-of-the-art telescope required brilliant astronomers, ever-evolving technology, and superb management and priority setting. Chalmers depended on his alma mater to make him famous and hadn’t bothered investigating how breakthrough discoveries came about once a telescope was in operation. His alma mater wasn’t up to the task. A few good discoveries were made, but nothing momentous. Gradually, the Chalmers 160 lost its capability to work at the frontiers of astronomy because technological advances enabled smaller telescopes to increase their light-gathering power, additional large and more modern telescopes were built, and the age of space telescopes arrived.

As his telescope’s capabilities waned so did his interest in astronomy, and he focused instead on his diplomatic career as the pathway to fame. He maintained his relationship with his alma mater and continued to fund the telescope’s annual operating costs, but from afar, and without his earlier enthusiasm, although the telescope always made good cocktail conversation. It was only when the years of mediocre performance as a diplomat ended that he again turned his attention to the telescope named for him. Time was passing, but his craving for fame remained unabated. He wanted to be remembered for something great, something to put him in the pantheon of philanthropists like Alfred Nobel, who had bequeathed his fortune in a way that guaranteed his name would be commemorated forever. Amazing discoveries about the universe by his telescope was his last chance.

3

R elaxed by her two bourbon and ginger ales and a nap, Alex Lancaster was dazzling in her low cut floor length white muumuu. A gold honu pendant and matching earrings augmented the yellow plumeria flower design on the dress. The honu, or green sea turtle, thrived on the Big Island after almost becoming extinct. It had emerged as the island’s symbol of how to live in balance with nature.

And nature was the venue for the cocktail party, held on the close-cropped lawn between the hotel and ocean. Torches, and lights mounted in palm trees lit the grounds. The trade wind kept the temperature comfortable and wafted smells of plumeria and ginger, mixed with the occasional whiff of propane gas from the torches.

Tall, slender, in her early thirties, Lancaster circulated and worked the guests, making sure she spoke to everyone while keeping an eye the puupuus and exotic drinks were in plentiful supply, and the ambiance of a lush tropical resort was putting everyone in a relaxed and positive frame of mind for the start of next day’s meetings.

She enjoyed the freedom the meeting in Hawai’i gave her in the way she dressed and felt. Normally, she’d be in a business suit and the surroundings wouldn’t much influence her mood. She loved having a party under the stars, with the palm fronds and torch flames blowing in the trades and the surf audible. This is the way to do business, she thought. A few more drinks and I might even find a deserted place on the beach and skinny-dip. The thought made her smile.

As she circulated and chatted she occasionally glanced toward Lionel Hastings, who had a bandage on the side of his head and was busy spinning tales about it.

Stanley Chalmers weaved his way through the guests to her side. Great party, Alex, you’ve done a fine job. I understand there’s entertainment in store.

This is the easy part, Mr. Ambassador. I wish I could be as confident about the meetings. I’ve never attended a scientific meeting, let alone organized one. I’ll need your help.

No problem . . . I want you to invite Arthur Fielding and Dusty McCrae to my suite after we finish here. The four of us will strategize.

I’ve met Dr. McCrae. Any particular reason you want to include him? I thought he was just one of the participants.

He works for Arthur Fielding, and we’ve asked Dr. McCrae to chair the meetings.

Lancaster was stunned. She’d gone over the agenda with Chalmers and he’d never mentioned anything of the sort. With his help, she thought she’d be chairperson. Before she could respond, he left to welcome a new guest. Her surprise turned to anger, and then guilt, when it occurred to her maybe she hadn’t spent enough time with Chalmers to glean everything in his head. She’d been so busy with logistics perhaps she hadn’t given enough thought to the meeting itself, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it . . . there were things to do.

.     .     .

Four Polynesian warriors blowing long mournful notes from conch shells appeared and chatter ceased. They wore loincloths, shell necklaces, grass bracelets and anklets. Lithe and muscular, they walked among the guests holding the notes for an impossible time before mounting a stage. Similarly clad musicians joined them and began a throbbing drum and stick-beating rhythm accompanied by chanting. The warriors took up clubs and began a wild dance. As the drums rose to manic frenzy, the warriors leaped into the audience yelling war cries and dashed into the darkness. The drums stopped abruptly and the audience exhaled an audible sigh of relief at escaping massacre.

Six grass-skirted wahines with flower leis around their necks and flowers in their hair ran to the stage and began a graceful hula that told the story of two ill-fated lovers who incurred the wrath of Pele, the fire goddess who inhabited Kilauea, the island’s erupting volcano. When the dance ended they came down to the audience, took hold of Lionel Hastings and brought him up on the stage, where they rolled up his pants, tied a grass skirt around him, and proceeded to instruct him in the hula, with emphasis on swaying hips. At first he enjoyed the attention, but as the instruction continued giggles and catcalls arose. When he tried to escape, the women refused to let him go until he accompanied them in a dance. The audience cheered and jeered as he awkwardly tried to emulate their movements, his embarrassment growing by the second.

A taste of revenge, Dr. Hastings, Lancaster thought.

.     .     .

Since everyone’s had enough to eat and drink, let’s get down to business, Ambassador Chalmers announced after everyone filed into his suite. The decor was modern Polynesian. They sat in koa wood chairs arranged in a circle. Paintings of ancient Hawaiian life decorated the bamboo-paneled walls. The reason I asked you here is to strategize about the meeting tomorrow. Before we do that, I’d like to know why you’re with us, Dr. Sterling? I don’t recall inviting you to our anniversary celebration.

Before Sterling answered, Dusty McCrae spoke up. I invited Nathan. When you and Arthur Fielding asked me to chair your meeting, I twisted Nathan’s arm to serve as co-chair. You’ve set one hell of a task to accomplish in two days, and even with his help it’s going to be difficult to come up with the kind of recommendations you want, Mr. Ambassador.

Lancaster was so flabbergasted she couldn’t contain herself. Excuse me, Dr. McCrae, but would you mind telling me what task you’ve been given? While I’ve been busy with travel arrangements and making sure everyone has a room looking out at the ocean, it sounds like important decisions have been made.

I apologize, Alex, Chalmers said, intervening. Things have been moving quickly and you’ve been so busy I guess I haven’t kept you up to date. We’re still operating within the original parameters, even though I may have gotten further along in my thinking since meeting with Arthur. He nodded in Fielding’s direction.

Since I’m being held accountable for the success of these meetings, it would help if we’re all on the same page, Lancaster insisted, struggling to maintain aplomb.

Of course . . . that’s the way we should begin, Chalmers said, unused to being questioned by a subordinate. He turned to McCrae. Dr. McCrae, maybe you can bring us up to date.

McCrae smiled. He knew the task he had unwillingly accepted from Chalmers and Fielding was more difficult than either of them envisioned. He was in his thirties, young for a position as important as the presidency of Arthur Fielding’s Pacific Science Institute, but getting on for someone whose driving force in life was to make a discovery that would put him in the company of Galileo, Einstein, and Hubble. He was a cosmologist and had unabashedly accepted the presidency of the Pacific Science Institute because Fielding had bribed him with salary, a house on the Pacific Ocean, and observing time on the Fielding telescope.

I’ll keep it brief, he said. The task is to arrive at recommendations for Ambassador Chalmers’ telescope that will put it at the forefront of scientific discovery and make Stanley Chalmers famous. It isn’t clear to me which of these goals is more important. He addressed the last statement to Chalmers.

Chalmers jumped to his feet, started to say something, caught himself, chuckled, and sat back down. I see you’ve never been in the diplomatic service, Dr. McCrae, but I won’t argue with your assessment, as long as it’s dressed up for outside consumption. Arthur warned me you say what’s on your mind.

Arthur Fielding wasn’t amused by the blunt remark. Let’s be businesslike here, Dusty, jokes can come later. I told Stanley we’d help him. What do we have to do to make this meeting a success?

The first thing I have to know is how much money you’re willing to spend, Mr. Ambassador, McCrae said.

Now that’s what I call getting down to business, Chalmers said. You tell me what’s needed and let me worry about the money. I paid the bill to build and operate the Chalmers 160, didn’t I?

How much will it cost to make the telescope a state-of-the-art instrument again? Lancaster asked, not wanting to be left out of the discussion.

A lot of money, but that isn’t the only issue, McCrae said. There are a dozen telescopes comparable in size to the 160 now, and another dozen much larger. Unless you’re incredibly lucky, even an upgraded 160 is probably out of the major discovery business.

Lancaster was out of her depth. But I thought the purpose of the meeting is to determine the future for the 160?

I hear Dr. McCrae saying we may not be asking the right question, Chalmers said. Is that right, Dr. McCrae?

McCrae glanced at Nathan Sterling. That’s why I invited my friend here. I’m mainly a theoretician who likes to use telescopes to prove my theories. Nathan knows more about building telescopes than anyone in the world. I’d like us to listen to him and then we can talk about the 160.

Eyes turned to Nathan Sterling, who looked uncomfortable. I apologize for turning up at your meeting, Mr. Ambassador, but you see . . . Dusty . . . I mean . . . Dr. McCrae . . . insisted I help. I refused when he asked me, but he put it so strongly I guess I erred against my better judgment. Please accept my apology. I have no intention of interfering with your meetings or with your celebration.

Since when do you care about hurting anyone’s feelings? McCrae said. I can’t do this job without you.

Get on with it, Dr. Sterling, Chalmers said. If Dr. McCrae says it’s important to have your input, that’s satisfactory. Consider yourself part of things.

Thank you, sir, Sterling said. I’ll do what I can to help.

So let’s hear what you think, Nathan, McCrae said. And give us the short version. It’s late and I want to go to bed.

Sterling was slim in build, average height, with a demeanor