Christa Faust - Fringe The Zodiac Paradox

Walter had one hand on the door handle and was about to jump out of the car and rush over to the fallen girl when Bell grabbed a fist full of his shirtfront and shook his head.

“We’re too late,” he said.

“Maybe she’s just hurt and needs help,” Walter said.

Nina ignored him, swiftly reversing and squealing backward out of the lot.

“Hey!” Walter shouted, wrenching himself free from Bell’s grasp and looking back at the receding parking lot through the rear window. “What the hell is the matter with you two?”

“What the hell’s the matter with you, Walter?” Nina asked. “Have you forgotten about the gamma radiation the Zodiac leaves behind?”

“We’re clearly too late to save her,” Bell said, “but not more than three hours late. Remember, Iverson said that the radiation lingers for approximately three hours. We can’t afford to jeopardize our own lives, especially when there’s clearly nothing we can do.”

Walter slumped down in the back seat, feeling utterly defeated.

What’s the point of all of this? he thought morosely. The killer was clearly way ahead of them at every turn. They just weren’t cut out for this kind of thing. We might as well just admit defeat.

* * *

When they arrived back at Nina’s, they parked several blocks away and cased her house from a distance, on the lookout for feds, the killer, or both. There was no one. The feds may have had Walter and Bell’s personal info, but they clearly hadn’t traced them back to Nina. Not yet, anyway.

The weary trio stumbled in through the door and found Abby in the hallway.

“Oh, hey,” she said with a big stoned smile. “You just missed your friend.”

Walter didn’t think he had any more adrenaline left in his glands, but they somehow managed to pump out just enough to make him feel sick and light-headed.

“What friend?” Nina asked, scowling.

“He didn’t say his name,” Abby replied. “But he was very polite. He just stopped by to pick up his notebook. He left a note for you.”

She reached into a large decorative pocket in her dress and handed a folded piece of paper to Nina.

35

Nina opened the note, revealing several lines of code and the familiar cross hair symbol instead of a signature.

“Abby,” Nina said, not taking her eyes off the page. “Your parents are in Santa Cruz, right?”

“Yeah,” Abby said. “Why?”

Nina handed her the keys to the rental car.

“Do me a favor,” Nina said. “Take my rented LeSabre and go visit them. Stay for a few days. A week maybe.”

“Gee, that’s awfully nice of you,” Abby said. “Roscoe and I will head down first thing in the morning.”

“Abby,” Nina said. “Go now.”

“Now?” A cute little frown creased Abby’s brow. “But it’s after midnight, and my folks go to bed real early. Besides, I can’t leave without Roscoe. Where is he, anyway? I though he was with you guys?”

“He can take the train down and meet you tomorrow,” Nina said. “Please, no more questions. Just go.”

The frown deepened, not so cute anymore.

“Hold on a minute,” Abby said. “I think maybe something funny is going on around here. Where’s Roscoe?”

“You’re right, Abby,” Walter said. “Something funny is going on around here. Something dangerous. So please, if you value your life and the life of your baby, you’ll do as Nina says.”

Abby looked from Walter to Nina and back again, still unsure.

“Is Roscoe okay?” she asked in a small child’s voice.

“Of course he is,” Nina answered without batting an eye. “Now please, go.”

Walter looked away, unable to meet Abby’s pleading gaze. Reluctantly, she took the offered key and pulled her shearling coat down off a peg by the door.

“Okay,” she said. “But you’ll tell Roscoe to call me as soon as he can. He knows my parents’ number.”

“I will,” Nina said, opening the door for her.

“Well, all right then...” Abby said, trailing off. She turned and walked away.

Walter, Nina, and Bell just stood in the doorway, watching her make her slow and steady way down the slanted street, waiting until she got into the car and drove off.

They were all thinking it, but Bell was the one who said it.

“Now what?”

* * *

The coded note was almost insultingly simple, based off the same keyword as the final section of the last page in the notebook. Walter felt no sense of accomplishment as he dutifully translated it for Nina and Bell to read.

It would have been so easy to kill the pregnant cow. She is so trusting and so open. Almost too easy. Here’s what I will do instead.

I will shoot everyone on the Golden Gate carousel at noon on September 25th.

Have fun trying to stop me.

“This is completely pointless,” Bell said. “What can we possibly do to stop him? Every single thing we’ve tried has been a complete and utter failure.”

Neither Walter nor Nina had an answer. It just felt so hopeless, like trying to stop a river from flowing with their bare hands.

Walter paced, folding and unfolding the killer’s letter over and over.

There had to be a way. There just had to be.

Then, just like that, it came to him.

“What if...” Walter paused, pushing his fingers through his hair. “Just bear with me for a moment, but what if we were to, for lack of a better metaphor, bring the mountain to Mohamed? After all, we know exactly where the killer will be, and at what time, right?”

“So what,” Bell said. “You’re suggesting that we try to open the gate there?”

“Exactly,” Walter said. He grabbed another sheet of paper from Nina’s desk. “See, what we would need would be three teams, each one consisting of two trippers and one ground control.” He started to sketch a rough triangle. “We’d place the alpha wave generator here at the center—” He pointed with the pencil. “—and we could use three smaller slave units to boost the signal.”

“Right,” Bell said, but he didn’t sound as skeptical. Walter could see the excitement building in his face. “Right, of course. Then we sync the teams, triangulate the signal and...”

“Open the gate.” Walter tapped the center of the triangle. “Right here.”

“Well, I hate to rain on your little eureka moment,” Nina said, “but where the hell are we going to get these teams you’re talking about? I don’t know if Roscoe and the rest of the band have been arrested or not, but I’m pretty damn sure they aren’t going to want to participate in any more of your ‘exciting experiments.’”

“Fair enough,” Walter said. “So who else do you know who might be willing to help?”

“Ideally,” Bell said, “it would need to be people who are intelligent, open-minded, and familiar with the use of biofeedback techniques.”

Walter immediately thought of the lovely May Zhang, with her charming, gap-toothed smile and bright, brainy banter.

“How about volunteers from Doctor Rayley’s Institute for Bio-Spiritual Awareness?” Walter suggested. “Students, maybe, or other test subjects who have worked with Rayley in the past.”

“Great idea,” Bell exclaimed. “Nina, what do you think?”

“I suppose we could ask,” she replied with a grudging shrug. “But let’s say we are able to recruit enough people for these teams you have in mind. Then what?”

“Then it plays out just the way we planned,” Walter said. “We chloroform him...”

“You’ll need to get a new bottle,” Nina reminded him.

“Yes, yes, but let’s say we have—then we just chloroform him, cuff him, and sedate him like we originally planned. Once he’s under, we radio the teams to start the mental synchronization, and when the gate opens...”