Page 15
After Sheriff Hagen knocked on mathematician’s door, there was a brief pause, then the door swung open.
Riley’s eyes swept over the man who stood there, framed against the dim light of the interior.
She noted the way his clothes hung loosely on his frame, the hint of defiance in his posture, the guarded look in his eyes.
“Mr. Warren,” the police chief explained, “I’m Sheriff Hagen. These are FBI Agents Paige and Esmer. We need to speak with you about a matter of utmost importance.”
Warren’s eyebrows rose slightly, but he stepped back, gesturing for them to enter. “Of course, come in.”
As they moved through the door, Riley kept her eyes on their host. Levon Warren was in his late sixties, and she saw that he had probably once been robust and strong, but time had taken its toll.
His shoulders curved inward, and his hands betrayed a slight tremor.
She could imagine him having had the strength to take a life in the past, but certainly not in the present.
“Thank you, Mr. Warren,” Hagen continued, his tone indicating that the pleasantries were over and the serious business at hand was about to begin.
Riley realized that although this sheriff might not have her ability to slip into the minds of killers, he had an instinct for the ebb and flow of human interaction—a talent that would make him a formidable presence in any investigation.
The interior of Levon Warren’s house was a jarring change from its charming exterior. Books and papers were strewn about, covering every available surface, and whiteboards plastered the walls. The air was thick with the musty smell of old paper and neglect.
“Quite the collection,” Ann Marie murmured, as she entered behind Riley.
The clutter was not just physical. Complex mathematical equations were scrawled on the whiteboards and every scattered sheet of paper was marked with scribbled with lines and numbers intertwining like the roots of an ancient tree.
To Riley, it seemed like the work of a mind teetering on the edge between brilliance and madness.
Clearing his throat, Chief Hagen glanced at the two agents before turning to face their host. Hagen had taken a seat as if the disorder around him was the most natural state in the world.
There were no other unoccupied chairs, so the three newcomers remained standing. Riley thought there was something unsettlingly serene about this man. Her instincts told her to be wary.
“Mr. Warren,” Hagen began, “I’m afraid we have some difficult news.
” He paused, the words catching slightly as though reluctant to disturb the quiet madness of the house.
“We’ve discovered human remains in Blue Ridge Wilderness Park.
We believe... the coroner has reported that they belong to your wife, Patricia. ”
Hagen simply nodded blandly.
“I’m not surprised,” he replied, his voice disturbingly even. “I’ve known all along she was dead. It was only a matter of time before the truth came out.”
Riley’s gaze flickered to Ann Marie, registering the same perplexity that mirrored her own. He hadn’t even tried to sound like a grieving spouse. The room, with its chaos of academic debris and neglect, seemed a physical manifestation of Levon Warren’s unsettling calm.
“Mr. Warren,” Riley said, stepping closer to him. “Can you tell us more about what you mean? You seem... prepared for this news.”
Warren’s eyes ignited with a feverish intensity, the kind that hinted at long nights wrestling with demons both real and imagined.
“Oh, I’ve been prepared for years,” he asserted, his tone that of an instructor. “You see, I warned Patricia. I told her what would happen if she continued to rise in the ranks of VEEM. But she wouldn’t listen.”
Riley absorbed this revelation, wondering what Patricia Warren might have been involved with that warranted such a dire warning.
“VEEM,” Warren spat out the acronym like a curse, distaste marking deep lines into his already weather-worn face. “I suppose you don’t know the truth about the so-called Virginia Educators for Excellence in Mathematics. A front for sinister forces that have been pulling strings for decades.”
The assertion struck Riley as ludicrous, yet chillingly possible—a blend of conspiracy theory and potential lead. Her mind raced through the profiles of secret societies and covert operations she’d studied over the years.
“Pulling strings?” she echoed. “Mr. Warren, are you suggesting that VEEM had something to do with your wife’s death?”
The laugh that erupted from Warren was devoid of humor, a bitter sound that resonated through the cluttered room.
“Suggesting?” he echoed, a sardonic edge sharpening his tone.
“I’m telling you outright. VEEM’s hierarchy eliminated her.
” His eyes, sharp and unyielding, met Riley’s with an intensity that bordered on fanaticism.
“It’s all part of their grand design, a mathematical equation of power and control that spans centuries. ”
Riley exchanged a glance with Ann Marie, whose eyebrows were raised in silent question. If what Warren said held any shred of truth, they were dealing with something far more complex than a simple murder case. But it seemed too far-fetched to even imagine.
Levon Warren launched into an elaborate explanation, speaking of complex mathematical formulas, his voice growing more animated with each sentence. According to him, these equations were keys that unlocked patterns predicting historical events, assassinations, and global conspiracies.
“Look here,” Warren gestured wildly toward a sprawling whiteboard, its surface a chaotic mesh of numbers and symbols. “You see this? This formula predicts the fall of political regimes, the exact dates of market crashes!”
Riley listened with a growing sense of unease.
The man’s fervor was strong, his belief in his theories unshakable.
Patricia’s murder was not just a random act of violence in his eyes but a carefully calculated move woven into a vast tapestry of conspiracy.
Not being a mathematician herself, she felt eerily helpless against this onslaught of irrationality.
“Patricia... she figured out too much,” he continued, his hands trembling. “She was about to expose them, so they silenced her.”
Then Ann Marie spoke up cheerfully, eyes wide with an innocent expression, “Mr. Warren, we understand you once applied to join VEEM yourself. Can you tell us about that?”
Warren’s face darkened.
“Yes, I tried. Once or twice, in hopes of infiltrating their ranks and blowing the whole thing up. But it was futile.” His words were bitter, tinged with the venom of long-held grudges.
“They recognized me as a threat, you see. They knew I was onto them, that I could expose their machinations. So they rigged the system against me.”
As Warren continued his diatribe, Riley watched him closely.
The feverish light in his eyes grew brighter, igniting with his convictions.
She found herself struck by the stark contrast between this man and the brilliant mathematician he must once have been—and perhaps still was.
But lost now in a labyrinth of paranoia and delusion, this man was likely a shell of his former self, haunted by specters of betrayal and revenge.
She felt a pang of something akin to sorrow for him.
How cruelly the mind could turn on itself, warping despair into such consuming madness.
“Mr. Warren,” she said gently, her voice modulating to a tone she reserved for the most delicate of revelations, “I’d like you to tell us about your membership in a different organization. The Cipher Society.”
Levon Warren’s transformation was almost theatrical.
The agitation that had been etched into his features smoothed away as if brushed by an invisible hand.
His spine straightened, his eyes cleared, and a subtle, dignified pride swelled within him.
“Yes,” he began with a newfound steadiness, “I’m a high-ranking ‘constant’ in the Cipher Society. ”
Riley observed him with keen interest, her mind meticulously filing away each fluctuation in his mood and mannerisms. She remembered that in math, “constant” referred to a value or number that does not change, regardless of the circumstances.
Warren carried on, his voice laced with a respect that teetered on the edge of worship. “At the very top, we have The Prime,” he began, “Then come us Constants, there are six of us. Following us are the Variables and then the Equations. At the bottom, you’ll find the Null Set.”
As Warren spoke, Riley could almost see this life unraveling, revealing a man once celebrated for his intellect, now buried within layers of secrecy and esoteric beliefs. It was like watching a building in the throes of demolition, the once-proud structure collapsing into rubble.
“We’re the true seekers of knowledge,” Warren asserted, leaning forward in his chair as if sharing the most profound of secrets. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, “The ones who can see through the veil of lies that VEEM and their ilk have draped over the world.”
Riley listened intently, her gaze never wavering from his animated face. She recognized this look—the glint of someone who believed they held the key to unlocking the world’s mysteries. It was a look she’d seen in the eyes of others: the obsessed, the driven, the lost.
Warren’s next words caught her off guard, “And I can help you. I can bring the full force of the Society’s resources to bear on this investigation.
” He leaned even closer, his excitement palpable.
“We have methods, tools that your FBI could only dream of. Together, we could crack this case wide open.”
Her voice was steady as she addressed Levon Warren, her words weaving through the dense air of the cluttered living room.
“Mr. Warren, while we appreciate your offer, we need to conduct this investigation through official channels. We can’t involve outside organizations, no matter how... resourceful they might be.”
Warren’s reaction came like a thunderclap, shattering the tense stillness that had settled over the room.
His face, previously illuminated by a sense of self-importance, now twisted into a snarl of indignation.
The air seemed to vibrate with his anger as he bellowed accusations, “Of course! I should have known! You’re not here to solve Patricia’s murder at all, are you?
You’re just like the rest of them, puppets of the system! ”
Riley stood rooted to the spot, her pulse quickening in response to the verbal onslaught. She’d seen rage like this before—unhinged and unbound—and it never failed to remind her of the unpredictable nature of human behavior.
Warren’s next words were aimed at Hagen, “And I suppose you’re about to treat me like the lawmen did 20 years ago—as a suspect in my own wife’s murder.”
“Mr. Warren,” Riley said, her voice calm, “we understand your frustration, but our priority is to uncover the truth.”
Beside her, Ann Marie remained uncharacteristically silent, her expression schooled into one of professional concern.
“Please, Mr. Warren, let’s keep this civil,” Hagen spoke up, his voice the embodiment of reason. “We’re not here to accuse, merely to gather information.”
But Riley knew that reasoning with someone so ensnared by their own narrative was like trying to grasp smoke. Warren’s mind was a fortress, barricaded by years of perceived persecution and betrayal. Logic had no currency in such a place.
Levon Warren’s accusations continued with a sharp note of paranoia.
His finger jabbed at them with each syllable, as if he could pin their guilt to the walls with his words.
“VEEM has gotten to you too, haven’t they?
Or maybe you’re here to silence me, to stop the Cipher Society from exposing the truth! ”
Sheriff Hagen, ever-steady, stepped forward, his voice a low, seeking to soothe the inflamed situation.
“Mr. Warren, please. We’re only trying to find out what happened to your wife.”
The plea was met with an icy glare, one that spoke volumes of Warren’s years spent entrenched in mistrust and conspiracy. Riley knew they were losing him, any hope of cooperation unraveling fast.
“Get out! All of you!” Warren’s voice boomed, filling the room with his defiance. “I won’t be a pawn in your game. The Cipher Society won’t be intimidated by your federal thuggery!”
His declaration was a door slamming shut, the finality of it resonating through the cluttered space.
Riley exchanged a quick glance with Ann Marie, and then with Hagen.
With a subtle nod, she signaled it was time to retreat.
There was no sense in fanning the flames of his outrage further.
They would get nothing more from the old mathematician right now.
They moved toward the door in a quiet procession, leaving behind the pandemonium of Warren’s making. The sunlight outside was harsh after the dim interior, and Riley blinked away the disorientation.
“Agent Paige?” Ann Marie’s voice was tentative, her eyes still reflecting the turmoil they had left behind.
“Let’s debrief in the car,” Hagen said.
But as they headed toward the sheriff’s vehicle, the persistent vibration of Riley’s cell phone cut through her thoughts. When she pulled out the device, the number on the screen stirred a certain apprehension.
“Paige here,” she answered.
“Paige, this is Meredith,” growled the familiar voice. “We’ve got a situation. There’s been another murder. The same M.O.”