Chance recited it from memory, his eyes stoned, half-closed.
“‘Let us go where we can bathe in those enchanted waters and be young once more,’” Miles replied. “‘I need it, and you will need it ere long.’”
“Peter Martyr was secretary of the prothonotary under Pope Innocent the Eighth, archpriest of Ocana under Pope Adrian the Sixth,” Chance added. “Friend of Columbus and Ponce de León.”
I felt the disconnected pieces swirling, snapping into place.
“What about amaranth?” I asked. “She quoted Milton.”
“ ‘Immortal amarant, a flower which once, in paradise, fast by the tree of life, began to bloom; but soon for man’s offence, to heaven removed.’”
For man’s offense. Adam and Eve-they ate from the forbidden tree: virtue fell to vice, and man was cast from Paradise and became mortal.
“The ancient Greeks ground up amaranth petals to treat infections,” Miles said. “Across the world, the ancient Chinese did too.”
Immortality… to beat death…
The obituary!
Were things like this really possible?
I pulled it out and pointed to the picture. To the man who apparently knew the precise date he was going to die and didn’t seem terribly concerned about it. What if he didn’t plan on dying in two days? What if his “death”-the obituary-was just a cover story, because he had no intention of going anywhere, ever…
“What if…” I said. “What if the V and D found a way…”
“ ‘What we are now, you will be,’ said the skeleton.” Chance smirked.
“What’s this ‘we’ stuff, white man?” Miles replied.
Chance grinned.
“We lost our immortality when we ate from the Tree of Knowledge-and we’ve been trying to use knowledge to get it back ever since. Kind of ironic, eh?”
He collapsed back into his chair. It had been a masterful performance, weaving together clues from ancient China to modern New England and everywhere in between. And now he was visibly tired. I, in contrast, was filled with new life, a new sense of opportunity-when only a couple of hours ago, it had seemed like every door was closed to me.
“This,” I said, pointing to the obituary. “We could use this to get to them.”
Chance and Miles exchanged glances.
“I doubt,” Chance said slowly, “that the obituary means very much.”
“But the stuff you just told me. Bimini…”
Chance shook his head.
“There was nothing there. The Spaniards went to Florida next. Guess where they claimed to find the Fountain of Youth? Green Cove Springs on the Saint Johns River. Know how many old people retire to Florida every year? My grandparents included? How many of them live forever?”
“What about amaranth? You said the Greeks used it to cure diseases.”
“Check out the Journal of Toxicology, March 2003, volume seven,” Miles said. “They use amaranth as a dye in manufacturing. Turns out it’s poisonous. Great way to live forever, huh?”
“Maybe they found another way-”
“Jeremy, do you know about seer’s salt?”
“No.”
“Feast of the Blue Boy?”
“No.”
“Samsara? Astral charts? Infinite wave functions? The Uhrglass?”
“No, no, no, no.”
“Do you know when the V and D formed?”
“No.”
“Do you know where they meet?”
“Do you?”
“Five years ago I found a clue. A margin note in a book we stole. It said the location was in Creighton versus Worley.”
“Those are buildings on campus.”
“Yes.”
“You checked the buildings?”
“Over months. We even went down into the steam tunnels connecting the buildings. Nothing.”
“But the language. Creighton versus Worley. It sounds like a court case.”
“It does.”
“Does the case exist?”
“Yes.”
“You pulled it?”
“We did.”
“And…”
“It was a contract dispute. A stupid old case that no one would ever look up.”
“That’s suspicious.”
“Everything’s suspicious when you want it to be, Jeremy. That’s the point. It never ends. I had my math friends go crazy on it. For months. No clues. No hidden codes. It’s just a case.”
“Fine.”
“I spent a semester on it. Nothing.”
“I said fine.”
“Jeremy,” Chance said, not unkindly. “You’re showing up late to a game you can’t win. I’ve been pursuing this for seven years. There are people who have tried for as long as the V and D has existed. You’re talking to a guy who believes in UFOs, but I can’t tell you what these people are really about. Do they have some amazing secret? Maybe. Are they just a bunch of deluded old rich guys desperate to beat the reaper? Could be. Or maybe they’re just satisfied ruling the free world. I don’t have a clue. Magic or not, bullshit or not, I have discovered one thing. These people take themselves seriously. They have real power. And they don’t like being fucked with.”
“Why did you waste my time, then?”
“Jeremy,” Miles said gently, “we told you all this to take the thrill out of it. It doesn’t lead anywhere.”
“But the obituary-”
“Someone’s messing with you. Don’t let them.”
“But who?”
“It doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s someone who wants to hurt them. Maybe it’s them, seeing if you’re smart enough to let it go.”
Miles exhaled. He looked at Chance.
“Tell him about Sammy Klein.”
“Sammy Klein,” Chance repeated.
He shook his head.
“Sammy was a nice guy,” Chance said to me. “A really good guy. He got interested in the V and D. It happens. The secrecy. The lore. People are drawn to conspiracies, puzzles. Just because I publish bullshit doesn’t mean I’m stupid. Something about them rubbed Sammy the wrong way. He wouldn’t give it up. He got a lot farther than I ever did. God only knows what he knew. He was going to show them.”
“I knew him,” Miles said. “He was in my dorm, freshman year. Quiet. Always polite to people.”
“They found him on the beach,” Chance said. “His wallet was gone. Someone stabbed him seven times. The police called it a mugging and closed the case.”
“Maybe it was just a mugging-”
“Jeremy,” Miles said. He actually put his hand on my arm. “Take the Incompletes. Get straight A’s next semester. You’re going to be okay.”
I sat there for a long time. They watched me.
Then I spoke.
“Did you Shepardize Creighton v. Worley?”
“What?”
“Jeremy,” Miles said cautiously.
“Shepardize. That’s where you take a case and see all the later cases that cite it. Did you?”
“No,” Chance said slowly.
“Jeremy,” Miles said again.
“How do you do that?” Chance said.
I told him. We went to the computer and pulled up the case. I showed him how to Shepardize it. Miles was watching us quietly from the corner; he didn’t stop us, but I could see he wasn’t done. A few citations came up on the screen, but nothing that stood out on first glance. It felt wrong.
I shook my head. “They wouldn’t use the computer. Too many eyes. They’d use the books.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Miles said. “If it’s in the books it’s on the computer.”
“Not if someone changed just our book,” I said.
That shut everyone up for a moment.
Chance stole a guilty glance at Miles, then looked at me. His eyes had a new life in them.
“Where?” he asked.
Miles looked at me, shook his head.
“The law library,” I said.
Chance started tapping his fingers again. He started laughing. “Seven months with the math nerds, I didn’t ask a fucking lawyer.” He shook his head. He reached for the joint, sparked it back to life. He took a long drag. After a while, he closed his eyes.
His breathing slowed. Color came back to his face.