The Day After Tomorrow_ A Novel - Allan Folsom [80]
“Is somebody trying to do that?” McVey asked quietly.
“It’s not possible,” Michaels interjected.
McVey looked at him. “Why?”
“Because of the Heisenberg Principle. If I may, Doctor Richman.” Richman nodded at the young pathologist, and Michaels turned to McVey. For some reason he needed the American to know that he knew his business, that he knew what he was talking about. It was important for what they were doing. And beyond that, it was his way of showing and, at the same time, demanding respect.
“It’s a principle of quantum mechanics that says it’s impossible to measure two properties of a quantum object—say an atom or a molecule—at the same time with infinite precision. You can do one or the other but not both. You might tell an atom’s speed and direction but you could not, at the same time, say precisely where it was.”
“Could you do it at absolute zero?” McVey was giving him his due.
“Of course. Because at absolute zero everything would be stopped.”
“Detective McVey,” Richman interjected. “It is possible to get temperatures to less than one-millionth of a degree above absolute zero. It has been done. The concept of absolute zero is just that, a concept. It cannot be reached. It’s impossible.”
“My question, Doctor, was not if it can or it can’t. I asked if someone was trying to do it.” There was a decided edge to McVey’s voice. He’d had enough of theory and now wanted fact. And he was staring at Richman, waiting for an answer.
This was a side of the L.A. detective Noble had never seen and made him realize why McVey had the reputation he did.
“Detective McVey, so far we’ve shown that the freezing was done to one body and one head. X rays have shown metal in only two of the remaining six cadavers. When we have that metal analyzed, we might be able to arrive at a more conclusive judgment.”
“What’s your gut tell you, Doctor?”
“My gut is strictly off the record. Accepting such, I’d venture that what you have are failed attempts at a very sophisticated type of cryosurgery.”
“The head of one person fused to the body of another.”
Richman nodded.
Noble looked at McVey. “Someone is trying to make a modern-day Frankenstein?”
“Frankenstein was created from the bodies of the dead,” Michaels said.
“Good Lord!” Noble said, standing and nearly knocking over a vessel containing the enlarged heart of a professional soccer player. Steadying the jar, he looked from Michaels to Richman. “These people were frozen alive?”
“It would appear so.”
“Then why the evidence of cyanide poisoning in all the victims?” McVey asked.
Richman shrugged. “Partial poisoning? A part of the procedure? Who knows?”
Noble looked at McVey, then stood. “Thank you very much, Doctor Richman. We won’t take more of your time.”
“Just a second, Ian.” McVey turned to Richman. “One other question, Doctor. The head of our John Doe was thawing from the deep freeze when it was discovered. Would it make any difference when it was frozen as to its appearance and pathological makeup when it thawed?”
“I’m not sure I follow you,” Richman said.
McVey leaned forward. “We’ve had trouble learning John Doe’s identity. Can’t find out who he is. Suppose we’ve been looking in the wrong place, trying to find a man who’s been missing for the last few days or weeks. What if it had been months, or even years? Would that be possible?”
“It’s a hypothetical question—but I would have to say that if someone had found a means of freezing to absolute zero, then nothing molecular would have been disturbed. So when it thawed there would be no way to tell if the freezing had been done a week ago or hundred years ago or thousand, for that matter.”
McVey looked to Noble. “I think maybe your missing-persons detectives better go back to work.”
“I think you’re right.”
The telephone ringing at McVey’s elbow brought him back and he snatched it up.
“Oy, McVey!”
“Hello, Benny, and cut that out will you? It’s getting repetitive.”
“Got it.”
“Got what?”
“What