Page 25 of The Presidents Shadow

DR. HENRY EXTENDS his hand. He bows slightly and smiles warmly. I’m wondering if it’s possible that he doesn’t even know that the Charles is steaming, even boiling, that people are fleeing. This doctor is no wild and crazy old scientist. He’s very calm.

“You’ve certainly chosen an interesting time for your visit,” says Dr. Henry.

“It seems so,” I say. “I’m here to seek your advice on the events in Copenhagen and Kyoto.”

Still smiling, he goes on. “Yes. Kyoto, Copenhagen… and now we seem to be having an interesting event occurring right here in Cambridge.”

So Dr. Henry does know what’s going on a half mile from his office. But if he’s at all worried, it doesn’t show. He motions me over to a large computer screen.

“Pull up a chair,” he says, moving a steel workbench in front of the computer. “You will have a front-row seat to watch the end of the world.”

I force a tiny laugh, assuming he’s joking.

I am a smart guy. Some people even think I’m a sensitive guy.

My history has certainly proven that. But I can’t figure out what the deal is with Atticus Henry.

Is he always so overwhelmingly calm, even with the horrors in Japan and Denmark?

Even with a toxic river in his own front yard?

Does he know something about these events that I don’t?

“You are about to see a close-up of the destruction in Kyoto and Copenhagen,” says Dr. Henry. He touches his handheld device and the big computer screen fills with a picture of murky brownish water.

“This is the bottom of the sea surrounding Copenhagen,” he says.

“Off the coast of Denmark?” I ask.

“More or less. It is specifically the bottom of the Baltic Sea, off the coast of Copenhagen.” He pauses, and for the first time he looks and sounds animated. “This is my first historical video. But there’s more.”

He taps a few more buttons. A new video begins.

“Look at that!” he says, and we both watch as the screen fills with huge bursts of orange and red and yellow. I’m not certain what I’m looking at. Insane fireworks?

Dr. Henry pushes a few more buttons. The screen dissolves to another scene—dry, cracking, splitting land. Massive pieces of earth tumbling and tumbling.

“What’s happening?” I say.

“Hell is happening,” he says. “Hell is coming out to visit. An earthquake deep below the ocean itself has cracked open the ocean floor. Magma is spewing out from the very center of the Earth.”

“Magma?”

“Molten rock that lies within the Earth. The heat is wildly intense. And the rupture here is the same as the rupture of the ocean floor in Europe. Ah, the power of magma! No wonder the Charles River is boiling!”

“But why? How?” I ask.

“The ultimate cause, I believe, is an attack of gamma rays hitting the Earth. When the extraordinary heat cracks the ocean floor, magma is released.”

“And the gamma rays are coming from where?” I ask. Frankly, I am not merely confused and ignorant. I’m also starting to panic.

With a bizarre touch of mischief in his face, the professor adds, “It will be up to you and your merry band of helpers to figure out where the gamma rays are coming from. Is it the sun? Another planet? Another galaxy? Or are they being created by some malevolent fiend here on Earth?”

“Doctor, the best thing for you and me to do right now is to get out of Cambridge and move farther inland,” I say.

He looks at me with a small smile, as if I am a child playing a game I don’t understand.

I move to one of the windows and look out. The crowd of people I encountered on my short walk to the science building has thinned a little. It’s fairly orderly but moving fast. From what I can see on their faces from the tenth floor, everyone seems anxious and scared.

“Dr. Henry, let’s get out of here. Away from the river, away from the crowds,” I say.

It’s as if he doesn’t hear me or doesn’t care.

The older man saunters over to me at the window.

“Let me have a look,” he says.

“It’s hard to see with all the moisture from the steam on the window,” I say.

“Yes, they have these windows hermetically sealed, but I have a self-invented contraption that can get them open,” he says. He snaps a short steel piece into the side of the window, turning it. The gadget looks like a crude bottle opener. He stands at the open window and takes a deep breath.

“Ah,” says the professor. “Good clean air. Enjoy it while it’s still here, Mr. Cranston.”

“I’d enjoy it more if we were outside, moving away from whatever that fog is.”

He smiles broadly. Again, it’s a facial expression filled with both pity and amusement. He looks out the window, from right to left, then back again.

I am going to make one more strong request for Dr. Henry to leave the building. If he refuses, I’m leaving anyway.

“Doctor, we’ve got to go now. We’ve got to save ourselves if we’re ever going to have a chance to solve this!”

“Mr. Cranston, there is absolutely no way that this horror can be ended. By you or anybody else. I’m a scientist. I’m sure we’re all doomed.”

Then, before I even realize what’s happening, Dr. Henry lifts his right leg to the ledge of the open window. He pulls his body upright on the ledge.

Then he jumps.