Nearly deep frying your newly ex-boyfriend gave anyone the excuse to lose their minds just a bit. Which was Lucy’s justification for her present cyberstalking.
On her long, lonely walk home, she had decided two things.
First, she needed help getting answers. Second, if anyone in her life deserved the truth from Lucy, it was Claudia. Lucy could trust her bestie not to judge her, and she didn’t want to lie anymore. She didn’t want to hide.
Lucy’s fingers slipped over the keyboard, water dripping from her messy curls. She hadn’t bothered changing yet. Her skirt showed the outline of her bikini bottoms and her desk chair was growing soggier by the second. The night-hued stone rested beside the mouse.
Ravi Malik. Malik, Ravi. R. Malik.
Where was he?
The all-seeing eye that was Google had no clue.
Nothing but his very uninformative profile on the staff page of the Eaton High website. It gave his school email but Lucy couldn’t say what she needed to say by email. And she couldn’t wait. She was well aware that tracking him down where he lived was outside the bounds of what was socially acceptable.
But at this moment, Lucy didn’t care.
She jammed her eyes shut, trying to summon the numbers and letters of the Land Rover’s license plate. Nada.
How could Ravi have no social media presence? He didn’t seem like the type to give a running commentary of his breakfast on Twitter (he probably ate something British like crumpets), but any self-respecting fanboy would have a Tumblr or participate in some kind of online forum. Nothing popped up on the Heron College website either.
Lucy rocked back in her chair, clutching the ebony stone and lifting it to her heart.
Think, Luce. She clicked her mouse.
Ravi’s face stared back at her from the Eaton staff page. He looked on the brink of the laugh she liked too much. Bright sunshine splashed across a green lawn in the background. Lucy squinted. And … was that a river?
A trick she’d picked up from the coder forum struck her.
She right-clicked on the photo and copied the URL while opening a new browser window. If Ravi had used this photo for any other online account, then a reverse image search should find it. A ripple of unwarranted jealousy passed through Lucy just thinking about finding a dating profile.
It took less than a second to produce a result.
Ravi’s face had been cropped from a larger photo. An older gentleman with a white beard and gunmetal eyes had his arm around him, beaming a paternal smile. He looked like the actor hired to play “distinguished professor” in a movie.
Clicking on the photo took Lucy to the website for a newspaper called the Cambridge Evening News. The article was talking about some bicentenary at Trinity College, but that wasn’t what made Lucy’s blood run cold. What iced her to the core was the caption beneath the picture.
Professor Tarquin Weston-Jones, left; Dr. Ravi Singh, right.
Ravi Singh! No wonder she couldn’t find a Facebook account. He’d lied about his name. And hold the phone, he was Dr. Ravi Singh? Which meant he already had a Ph.D. How was that possible? Why would he conceal his identity?
Lucy bit down on the inside of her cheek until she tasted a coppery tang. She’d never felt paranoid before.
You’re not paranoid if someone’s really after you.
She rubbed her temples. She couldn’t afford to panic any more than she already was.
Why would Ravi lie about his name but not about Professor T? If he already had a Ph.D., why was he pretending to be a college student? Didn’t he think Lucy would work it out? No, Ravi probably didn’t think she’d be playing detective on the Internet.
Well, too bad.
Ravi Singh, Cambridge, she tapped with fevered fingers. There were too many results. She refined the search. Ravi Singh + Cambridge + Mathematics
Jackpot.
Heart pounding, she pored over matriculation and graduation records. Lucy was torn between wanting to get to the bottom of his deception and wanting to make plausible excuses for him.
She spun the stone in her hand, light from the computer screen glimmering off its diamondlike ridges.
Ravi must have cared about her to give her something like this. But why? Why did Ravi care about Lucy? She’d been too flattered to question it.
Returning the cursor to the search results, she swept toward the bottom of the page, where there was another link to the same newspaper. Only, this article was dated from 2007.
TWO UNIVERSITY SCIENTISTS KILLED IN FIRE, read the headline.
Lucy skimmed the first couple of paragraphs.
Two university geneticists were killed yesterday afternoon when a fire broke out in the Old Cavendish Laboratory on Free School Lane. Dr. Seema Singh, 39, and Dr. Amit Singh, 42, a married couple working together on a cure for Alzheimer’s succumbed to their injuries at Addenbrooke’s Hospital. They are survived by their son, Ravi Singh, age 9, who was treated for smoke inhalation by paramedics at the scene along with Professor Tarquin Weston-Jones, 59, of Trinity College, Cambridge, who rescued the boy.
Witnesses reported hearing an explosion before flames engulfed the second floor of the building. No immediate source of the blast was confirmed. The Cambridgeshire Fire Brigade is investigating the electrical wiring of the 133-year-old structure as a possible cause.
The article went on to discuss the Singhs’ research and questions of fire safety in the laboratory, but nowhere did it mention terrorism or foul play. What would make Ravi think that? Who could possibly be against a cure for Alzheimer’s?
Lucy was relieved Ravi’s story about being saved by Professor T checked out. And yet, it didn’t explain why he would be using a false name. If he was so traumatized by his parents’ deaths that he wanted to forget all about it, surely he would have changed his name years ago?
Be a scientist. Drawing down a lungful of air, Lucy began to type up a list of indisputable facts.
1. Ravi Malik does not exist
2. Ravi Singh received his Ph.D. in mathematics from Trinity College last December
3. Ravi’s parents were killed in a fire (Accident? Arson?)
4. Ravi was saved and mentored by Professor T
What was she missing? It didn’t add up.
Her gaze skittered back to the photograph. What did she know about Professor T? Biologist. Nobel Prize winner. Started his own biotech firm. Shouldn’t be hard to find.
A few keystrokes led Lucy to his company’s website.
The logo appeared and her adrenal gland worked overtime.
“Ouroboros,” she muttered under her breath, despite the fact that no one could hear her. They couldn’t, could they? Stop, Lucy. She wasn’t about to start believing in an omniscient, omnipresent they.
A sleek, digital serpent encircled the company name: Chrysopoeia Tech.
Lucy played another round of hyperlink leapfrog and found the definition of chrysopoeia: transmutation.
That explained how Ravi had been exposed to alchemy. Of course he’d take up his godfather’s interests. From their body language in the photo they seemed close. She moved her cursor to the About Us link on Professor T’s website.
Chrysopoeia Tech was founded in 2010 by Professor Tarquin Weston-Jones, Fellow for Life at Trinity College, Cambridge. Professor Weston-Jones became a Nobel laureate for his pioneering research in the field of quantum biology, specifically DNA mutation. Perhaps the world’s most renowned proponent of biophysics, Weston-Jones launched Chrysopoeia Tech to strengthen the links between science, medicine, and industry. Recognizing the paucity of university-level departments for the interdisciplinary field of biophysics, Chrysopoeia’s privately funded laboratory is a haven where neuroscientists, mathematicians, physicists and biochemists can work together for the advancement of technology and the eradication of genetic diseases.
Lucy thought back to her botched Voltaic pile experiment. The way Ravi had challenged her about Galvani’s theory of animal electricity suddenly made sense. Galvani was probably the grandfather of quantum biology.
She lurched away from the computer, afraid to cause another power outage.
Ravi knew. He must. Or at least suspect.
How? She gripped the armrests of her chair so hard she thought they might snap. Mentally, she added to her tally of facts.
5. Ravi somehow stumbled upon her in the middle of New York City
6. Ravi chased after a mugger without a second thought
7. Ravi showed up at Eaton High right after Lucy broke into the Tesla Suite
Burning plastic wafted through the air as molten puddles appeared beneath Lucy’s fingers. Ow!
8. Ravi had come to Eaton for Lucy
She didn’t know why, but Ravi better believe Lucy was going to find out. Before she risked exposing Claudia to whatever was going on, she needed to confront him.
It would just have to wait until Monday.