“You just lost me,” Seymour says.
Freddy explains in a patient tone.
“Consider the case of Henry. He died six days after he was born. If astrology had any truth to it at all, then surely there must be something in his chart that would indicate his days would be short. To see if this was the case, I drew up his chart the same day we spread his ashes on the bay, and I stayed up all night studying it. To my surprise I found not one but four clear markers that he was doomed the instant he took his first breath. To this day, I remember what they were. He had Mars in the eighth house, the house of loss. Mars is the planet of death. Then he had both of them in Scorpio, which gives great power to the negative influence. Worst of all, he had been born during a solar eclipse. It’s true it was a partial eclipse but it had been noticeable. Outside, I recalled, the light had dimmed just as Cindy pushed our son out of her body and Henry drew his first breath.
“All of this seemed an incredible coincidence. It made me wonder if it was possible to create a more accurate astrological system than anyone had come up with in the past. Trillions of bits of data on millions of people would be the key. I proposed using computers to scan the charts of living people, to identify astrological patterns that matched what was already going on in their lives.”
“I’m still lost,” Seymour says.
Freddy grows animated. “Let me give you an example. Say you took a thousand successful CEOs. Men and women who had worked their way to the top of the largest companies on earth. What if you threw all of their astrological charts together into a computer and programmed it to look for characteristics in the heavens that they all shared. What if the computer began to spot patterns. They could be anything. Venus in the second house, the house of wealth. The sun in the ascendant. With Jupiter and Uranus trine with Venus.”
“Did you just list the astrological signs of successful people?” I ask.
Freddy nods. “Yes! I began to spot patterns everywhere I looked. Some matched the ancient texts on astrology. That surprised me. It meant that either someone in the distant past had come up with the same concept as me and implemented it without the help of computers, or else there had been a handful of psychic people back then who’d cognized the patterns out of thin air. But no matter how insightful those ancient seers were, they couldn’t compete with modern computers and trillions of bits of data.”
“Fascinating,” Seymour says, finally grasping the concept. “Why do I get the impression you created this system by working backwards?”
“Because that’s exactly what I did! To understand the compassionate nature of someone like Mother Teresa, I took her astrological chart and the charts of thousands of other people who had devoted their lives to service. Then I fed their birth data into a computer and searched for qualities in the sky that they all shared. Do you see?”
“Gotcha.” Seymour nods.
“My goal was to discover the perfect place and time for an infant to be born on earth so they would embody the exact qualities their parents were hoping they would have. I sought for patterns that would create the greatest scientist, statesman, dancer, writer, artist, actor, doctor. With my system, I imagined a day would come when every parent could choose what kind of child they wanted.”
“That was a lofty goal,” I say. “It’s amazing, working alone, that you were able to identify all these patterns.”
“I worked on the system for years, night and day, without rest.”
I pat his arm. “It was the pain of your son’s death that drove you.”
Freddy stares at me with tremendous feeling in his eyes. “I’m glad you understand. The system was to be Henry’s memorial.”
“What went wrong?” Seymour asks.
Freddy drops his head. “Cindy,” he whispers.
“You have to tell them,” Mary says gently when a minute goes by without him speaking.
He shrugs helplessly. “After we lost Henry, Cindy and I grew apart. We’d go days, even weeks, without speaking. She didn’t tell me that her grief had inspired her to head in a totally different direction. She went back to the professor’s experiments. She gathered together an array that was far more powerful than any of Sharp’s creations. She used every dollar she’d saved from her earlier ventures with the stock market to first identify the kids that were most psychic, then to pay them to work for her at predicting the moods of the market. I should have known what she was up to because suddenly we had money. But I didn’t want to know. My research consumed my every waking moment and frankly I needed her funds to continue with my research. To this day I don’t know if she supported me because she had faith in what I was doing. Or if she simply saw the potential of my idea and planned from the start to steal it.” Freddy pauses. “Of course, that’s exactly what she did.”
“How could she steal your system?” Seymour asks.
“Every single computer disk, every hard drive, every scrap of paper that dealt with the Cradle . . . she took it all. Now I know what you’re going to ask. Didn’t I have backups of my work? I did. Unfortunately, she knew where they all were. It’s not as if I tried to hide them from her. After all, she was the one who was supporting me.”
“First she stole Professor Sharp’s work,” I say. “Then she stole yours. You don’t need to check her stars. Her pattern is obvious.”
Seymour nods. “She’s a user.”
Freddy shakes his head. “She’s more than that. She’s a monster.”
“What did she do with your astrological system?” I ask.
Freddy appears stunned, as if the answer were obvious.
“She used it to create more monsters,” he says.
“Huh?” Seymour says.
“It all goes back to that day I sat before the professor’s array with my mind in turmoil. Cindy spotted an important secret that day that none of us noticed. She realized if you took a person who had exceptional psychic gifts—in this case, me—and connected them to the array, he or she could focus its power so that it caused physical harm. In other words, she saw a way to allow the array to transcend the confines of the mental realms. Make no mistake, I gave Tom a heart attack. My mind struck him down like the hammer of Thor. It’s a miracle he didn’t die, although, as things eventually turned out, it’s a shame he didn’t.”
“Tom helped Cindy steal the Cradle from you?” I ask.
“He took everything I had. I don’t know exactly when Cindy left me for Tom. I’d ask if she still loved me, and she’d say sure, but she had always been a great liar. All I know is that when they stole my work, I was left with nothing and the world was in terrible danger.”
“What did they do with your Cradle?” I ask.
“I’m sure you can guess. They began to seek out the qualities that defined a psychic child. Not only that, they sought out the qualities that made a person empathetic.”
“They wanted to draft people with empathy?” Seymour asks.
Freddy smiles bitterly. “The opposite. They wanted to know which qualities gave rise to love and compassion so they could avoid them at all cost. By this time they probably had so much money and power their reach stretched across the world. I know they set about testing children in the most remote corners of Africa, India, Mongolia, South America. In these places they identified future astrological charts that would produce children more psychic and cold than anything the world had ever seen. Then they made it a point that a child was born in the right place at the right time.”
“How?” Seymour asks.
“Cesarean section,” I say.
“Right,” Freddy says. “It was these children, as they took birth—according to the stars, and according to Cindy’s will—who eventually became the most lethal members of her Cradle.”
“How many are there?” Seymour asks.
“My best guess is the IIC has twenty thousand kids in their central Array. While another three hundred children make up their Cradle.”
“Interesting,” I say.
“That they have so many kids?” Freddy asks.
“That you know how many they have,” I say.
He acts innocent. “It’s an educated guess.”
“Freddy, get off it. Mary told us the truth. You know way too much about what Cindy’s been doing since you guys broke up not to still be in touch with her. If I had any doubts on that score, I just have to recall the face of the five-year-old girl I met in Cindy’s house. She looked a hell of a lot like you.”
Stunned, Freddy goes to deny my accusation, but then Mary touches his arm. “I told you not to lie to her,” she says.
“I didn’t lie,” Freddy says.
“How can you still see her after all she’s done to you?” Seymour asks.
Freddy shakes his head. “She’s the mother of my child.”
“Does Tom know the kid’s not his?” Seymour asks.
“He’s not stupid,” Freddy says, annoyed.
“Are you?” I ask gently.