Fearful Symmetry: A Thriller Read online

  Six years ago he’d been summoned to Sri Lanka as a representative of the Brandt Institute to assist in the classification of hominin remains unearthed by a monsoon, near ruins dating to the fifth century and the reign of Dhatusena. He quickly determined the bones belonged to Homo erectus, the third such discovery on the island, and spent the remaining few days of his assignment exploring the ancient ruins with a British archaeologist named Dr. Emma Crandall, who had taught him to appreciate the history of the early Ceylonese dynasties, especially following the arrival of Buddhism during the second century BCE, when the nation as a whole essentially devoted itself to spiritual and humanitarian pursuits. Their early architecture was revolutionary and they were credited with establishing the first hospital, before the Indians and Europeans with whom they traded returned with invading armies. Most impressive were the statues of the Buddha, which had been meticulously tended through the millennia to such extremes they might as well have been recently carved.

  Emma taught him about the mudras, or hand gestures, and their respective meanings, as well as a good number of other, more intimate things he remembered quite fondly.

  The central Buddha in the grotto had its right hand raised in what was called the Abhaya mudra, or the Gesture of Fearlessness. The left hand, which cradled the teeth, formed the Kataka mudra, or Flower-holding Gesture, frequently used to hold venerated objects of some kind, although how the teeth qualified was a matter of speculation. It was the mudras of the two adjacent Buddhas that left little room for interpretation. Both had their hands raised in front of their chest, crossed at the wrists, palms out, middle fingers bent. It was a mudra known as Bhutadamara, or the Warding Off Evil Gesture. Combined, the three gave the impression of blessing the traveler for the journey ahead, one which—if the value of the offerings was any indication—promised to be even more perilous than they anticipated.

  Brooks was still pondering the significance of the human and animal teeth and how they might relate to what he had seen in Brandt’s private exhibit beneath the institution when the jungle retreated just enough to allow the sun to reach the ground, where waist-high grasses proliferated. The monkeys that had been following them no longer shrieked from the trees. In fact, there was no movement in the upper canopy whatsoever. No birds flitted from one shadowed enclave to the next; no lizards basked on the trunks. Only the mosquitoes continued to swarm, although in nowhere near the same numbers they once had. The ground was spongy and eagerly accepted their footprints. And worse.

  Julian cursed when he stepped right out of his shoe and planted his socked foot in the mud. He gripped his shoe by the laces and pulled. It didn’t budge. He wrapped the laces around his fists and put his body into it. The mud gave with a slurping sound and deposited him on his rear end.

  Adrianne and Warren, who stood back and watched, burst out laughing.

  Julian flung his sopping sock at them before inserting his bare foot into his shoe.

  Brooks used the opportunity to tighten his own hiking boots. From one knee he could barely see the others over the tops of the tall, black-spotted weeds, which swayed at the behest of a gentle breeze. He looked back down and saw a print in the mud. It was old and nearly washed away by the recent storm, but enough of it remained that he could see the deep, smeared impression of the forefoot. The toes were large and teardrop-shaped, suggestive of long nails or claws. The way the rain had eroded it, it was impossible to tell which species had left it, only that whatever did was very large. It could possibly have been made by a Tibetan macaque—one of the largest species of old world monkeys in Asia—only if there had been heel contact, the impression had been washed away. From the right angle it almost looked like the paw print of a large cat. The slippery mud distorted both the size and shape—

  “You’re bleeding,” Adrianne said.

  “Not funny,” Julian said. “I think we’ve all had more than our share of fun at my expense.”

  “No. Seriously. Right there. On the side of your neck.”

  Julian dabbed beneath his left earlobe and drew his fingertips away bloody.

  “Jesus Christ. I didn’t feel any—”

  “You’re bleeding, too,” Warren said.

  Brooks stood and saw the crimson smear on Adrianne’s arm where Warren was pointing. There was blood on his extended arm, too.

  Warren shrieked when he saw it spiraling around his forearm and dripping from his wrist. He wiped it on his side and looked back at Brooks with a panicked expression. A droplet of blood rolled down his forehead from beneath his hairline.

  Sweat trickled down Brooks’s neck and over his clavicle as he fought through the weeds to join the others. As he neared, he saw Adrianne’s bare legs. They looked like they’d been cut to hell by sawgrass. Julian’s were the same. Warren’s socks were already drenched with the blood trickling down his legs. Zhang’s arms were positively slick with blood.

  Brooks wiped what he thought was sweat from his eyes and caught a glimpse of the back of his bloody hand.

  “What the devil is going on here?” Warren asked.

  Brooks looked up at his colleague in time to see something dark fall from the canopy and alight on Warren’s right ear. He flicked at it and a dribble of blood followed the arch of the conch.

  “Oh, God,” Adrianne said. She started dancing in place and swatting at her legs.

  Brooks looked down and found his legs dripping with blood. He looked at the long blades of grass, at the black spots all over them. They weren’t tiny buds like he’d unconsciously assumed.

  They were leeches.

  Something struck his shoulder and he nearly cried out. He brushed it off and looked up to find the undersides of the broad leaves covered with leeches, which dropped down upon them like rain.

  Before he knew it he was running after the others, leaving the grasses smeared with blood in his wake.

  Seven

  Johann Brandt Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology

  Chicago, Illinois

  October 5th

  Twelve Days Ago

  “I want the opportunity to examine it for myself,” Brooks said.

  “You question its authenticity?” Brandt looked up from his computer and raised an eyebrow. The expression on his face was one of amusement. “I assure you it is real. I made the cast myself, with my own hands. I smoothed the contours and traced the bony structures. I had no reason to seek either verification or validation from other sources.”

  “If you want me to lead this expedition, then you’re going to have to let me examine it.”

  “Curiosity’s got the better of you, does it my boy?”

  “I can’t help but wonder why—if it’s legitimate, as you claim—you didn’t bring back the remains from which it was cast. Or why you wouldn’t have showcased your findings for the entire world to see? We’re talking about a discovery of the highest order sitting in the private collection of the founder of one of the foremost institutions devoted to the advancement of evolutionary studies. Tell me you can’t see the inherent contradiction from my perspective.”

  “Let me ask you a question, Jordan. And do take your time to think about it before you answer. I want you to carefully consider the ramifications before speaking. Do you think you can do that?”

  Brooks nodded.

  Brandt smiled, removed his spectacles, and rolled out from behind his desk. He beckoned to Brooks with a wave of his gnarled hand and guided him once more toward the elevator. He waited until they were both inside the cab to speak. Brooks watched the old man’s face in the reflection on the inside of the doors. Over the past few days, all of the little doubts his initial excitement had allowed him to set aside had begun to nag at him. He had more than a few questions, and he needed to answer them before he set off blindly for a region of Tibet where westerners, especially Americans, were unwelcome.

  “Consider everything you know about the lineage of the human species. Go all the way back to the first mammalian forest ape, the progenitor of the thr
ee major genera: Pan, Gorilla, and Homo. It is this single ancestor, common to all three, that serves as the trunk of our family tree. This is the lone commonality from which two branches diverged more than eight million years ago, one of which evolved separately into the great apes; the other into mankind and chimpanzees. The first divergence one can arguably state to be the antecedent of man would be Australopithecus afarensis, nearly four million years ago.”

  The elevator door opened upon the display room, the thought of which had become increasingly uncomfortable for Brooks.

  “I know all of this, Dr. Brandt. What I don’t know is where this discovery of yours fits in.”

  “The foundation of evolution is patience, my boy. You must open your mind to the possibilities and the implications of each. As I said, don’t rush to judgment.”

  Brooks had already exhausted his patience. The old man had the answers to the questions that plagued him and he was in no mood for the song and dance. He needed facts, not justifications. It took superhuman restraint, but he managed to stay his tongue. He gestured for Brandt to proceed.

  “Thank you.” Brandt rolled out of the cab and down the main aisle. “Where was I? Ah, yes. From Australopithecus comes the terminal branch of genus Paranthropus, which coexisted for a time with several species from our direct Homo lineage. Paranthropus was considerably larger than Australopithecus and evolved with a larger brain and heavily muscled jaws designed to feed primarily on plant matter. Tubers, and what not. Unfortunately, that path also led to it becoming a common prey species that was eventually hunted to extinction by the mammalian megafauna of the time.

  “The evolution from afarensis to africanus that spawned the entire Homo branch, on the other hand, was much more significant. The dramatic increase in cranial capacity, with doubling in size from habilis to erectus and again to heidelbergensis. Major growth in both height and weight and a staggering increase in mass and musculature. But the most important facet of their evolution wasn’t the development of the use of stone tools, as most would have you believe. Nor was it the mass migration out of Africa, which itself led to a dozen analogous subspecies. It was the gradual progression to an omnivorous diet. This is most clearly evidenced by the evolution of the teeth themselves.

  “Australopith canines were markedly underdeveloped and microwear on the molars suggests a grinding chewing motion and a largely frugivorous diet. The Paranthropes could be considered to have devolved, as they developed larger molars and premolars that functioned to help break down tougher plant materials. Conversely, chemistry confirms that early Homo species not only ate significantly more meat, but also preferred it to the diet favored by the now extinct Paranthropus. This started a trend toward smaller, sharper teeth that coincided with the almost exponential increase in brain size. Essentially, the success of mankind’s evolution was dependent upon its transition from prey to predator. It was only as the rate at which the brain developed outpaced its physical transformation that mankind’s evolutionary ascension plateaued at the level of apex predator, its modern incarnation. For all intents and purposes, humanity realized that its evolutionary advantage was its intelligence, not its predatory nature.”

  Brooks watched the memorialized faces of emaciated Jews pass in the cases and realized just how wrong Brandt was. Or at least that some men embraced the bestial aspect of their heritage.

  “Gorillas, on the other hand, evolved long, sharp canine teeth, but retained the smaller cranial vault and, curiously, a predominantly vegetarian diet. The canines are largely vestigial, I would imagine, yet their importance as a threat display cannot be understated. As is the case with chimpanzees and bonobos, which are mainly frugivorous, but will resort to eating anything they can get their hands on as a ‘fallback food,’ even smaller monkeys, in times of scarcity. Both genera exhibit the same rounded jaws and prominent dentition as Homo sapiens, while retaining more ferocious canines and smaller brains. What does that tell us? That modern man needs no threat display, that evolutionarily speaking, he’s confident he sits on top of the food chain, that he has evolved into the physical embodiment of a threat. Are you following me?”

  “Yes,” Brooks said, although he had absolutely no idea where Brandt was going with this line of thought.

  Brandt stopped before the main display, killed the tinting, and lowered the lead liners to reveal the plaster cast, which turned slowly on its pedestal to be viewed from all angles, like a mask on the wig manikin.

  “Now look at the size of the cranial vault compared to the three extant hominin lines. Look at the shape of the face. The relative prominence of the cheekbones, orbits, brow, and nasal arch. The humanoid prominence of the teeth and jaws. Now imagine how these teeth compare to all three lines and tell me where this individual fits into the entire evolutionary tree, from the very first forest ape through modern chimps, gorillas, and men.”

  The realization hit Brooks so hard he had the urge to sit down. He looked at Brandt, who leaned back in his chair, laced his bony fingers, and smiled at the revelation that must have been written all over Brooks’s face.

  “So now, my boy, I’ll ask you the same question you asked me. Do you understand why I kept this discovery to myself, especially considering the political climate during which I made the discovery?”

  Brooks could only nod.

  “And do you understand why I devoted every waking moment of my life to fostering an environment conducive to learning everything we can about human evolution? Why in the years during the reign of Hitler’s Reich I used the opportunity to gain as much knowledge as I possibly could about my own species, despite the moral implications and, as you say, the ultimate forfeiture of my soul? Why I was a willing participant in the perpetuation of evil when a man of my intellect and societal standing by all means should have, at worst, walked away?”

  Brooks looked at the face turning slowly in a circle, its sightless eyes scanning the room, lord of all it surveyed.

  “Do you understand why, with all of the advancements in DNA sequencing and cloning, the physical remains must never be brought back here? And more to the point, do you understand why I’m now passing the torch of its stewardship on to you?”

  The enormity of the responsibility Brandt bestowed upon him was overwhelming.

  “Do you understand how our entire species would react if this ever saw the light of day? This is no mere mutation or anomaly, Brooks. This is, potentially, the next phase in the evolution of mankind.”

  Eight

  Hanmi

  Motuo County

  Tibet Autonomous Region

  People’s Republic of China

  October 14th

  Three Days Ago

  They arrived at the layover point in Hanmi after dark and spent a good portion of the night burning off the leeches by the light of a campfire that produced more smoke than flame, thanks to the what little damp wood they were able to gather. The majority of the parasites had either sated themselves and fallen off or had been painfully excised en route. Those that remained had swollen to nearly three times their original size and produced a smell like a cross between singed hair and burnt rubber with the application of the tips of the smoldering sticks.

  They used nearly every last inch of gauze and tape from their emergency medical kit to cover the wounds that showed no indication that the bleeding would stop anytime soon, at least not until the anticoagulatory effects of the enzymes in the leeches’ saliva waned.

  The blood loss served to amplify their exhaustion and they slept the sleep of the dead on the bare floor of a structure made of decayed pickets and situated on blocks that wouldn’t support the warped building much longer. The sheets draped over the bare rafters were weathered and admitted the early morning fog, which crept in well before sunrise.

  Brooks awakened to the sound of sheep baaing in the rocky fields and a headache caused by the loss of so much fluid. They ate in a faint drizzle that evaporated in the heat of the fire and listened to Zhang converse with the old man w
ho served them porridge he called tholma and an earthy brick tea. The caffeine helped ease his headache and he slowly rejoined the land of the living.

  “He say we go through ‘leech zone,’” Zhang said. “You supposed to swing stick ahead of you to knock them off weeds. They angry when it rain.”

  “I thought you’d made this journey before.” Warren looked up over the lip of his bowl as he tipped back the last bit of tholma. “Shouldn’t you have known about this ‘leech zone’?”

  “Who say I not know?”

  Zhang said something to the old man in Tibetan and they both laughed.

  “Ask him if there have been any tiger sightings around here lately,” Brooks said.

  He felt the weight of his colleagues’ eyes upon him and turned to watch the old man’s Riwoche horse, a miniature species barely larger than an average pony. The horse sensed his attention, nickered, and swatted at the flies on its haunches with its long tail.

  Zhang spoke to the old man, whose reply was brief and elicited a gap-toothed smile.

  “He say there always tigers around. You just no see them.”

  “That’s comforting,” Adrianne said.

  “Why do you ask, Dr. Brooks?”

  Something about the way Julian asked suggested that Brooks wasn’t the only one to have noticed something.

  Brooks stared to the east, toward yet another range of fog-shrouded mountains. There was no point in alarming them unnecessarily. A solitary footprint more than a day old was undoubtedly nothing to worry about, even if it did belong to a tiger and not a macaque, which was starting to feel more and more likely in retrospect. And besides, tiger attacks were incredibly rare, especially on people traveling in groups.

  “No reason.”

  They set out under a gray dawn and made good time across the rocky plateau, where they passed cairns of indeterminate age and the rubble of structures that gave no indication as to what they might once have been. The trail grew steeper and even rockier from there as it ascended into the clouds. The streams flowed narrow and vertical and crashed down onto rocks reminiscent of the teeth of a dragon. They were forced to crawl over the steeper sections to compensate for the weight of their backpacks and shivered with the damp mist and the caress of the cool wind. Aged prayer flags snapped from branches wedged into the gaps between the loose boulders, from which not a single tree grew. They fell repeatedly and tore their pants and skinned their knees, but anything was preferable to the siege at the hands of the bloodsucking leeches.