January 1984
Catherine Dupré's letter arrived.
No return address. Postmarked Paris. Addressed to Tommy, care of the Skunk Works.
How had she gotten his work address?
Tommy opened it carefully.
Inside: a letter in careful handwriting. And a photograph. Old. Faded. Black and white.
The photograph showed three people. A man Tommy recognized—Rick, young, maybe early twenties. Two women beside him. One with similar features—sister, probably. Another woman with Asian features.
On the back of the photo: "Rick, Marie, Mei. Paris, 1952."
The woman with Asian features was Mei.
Below that, in different handwriting, more recent: "Your half-sister. She was beautiful once."
Tommy's hands trembled.
He opened the letter.
Thomas,
My name is Catherine Dupré. I was a friend of your father's. I'm dying. Cancer. Weeks left.
I need you to know the truth.
Your father met a woman in Shanghai in 1951. He fell in love with her. She became pregnant... Your half-sister is still alive, probably. Her name is Mei. When the protocol discovered this relationship, they used it against him. Threatened to kill Mei and the baby if he didn't stop investigating.
He chose to protect them by disappearing. But his investigations continued anyway. The protocol killed your mother—Helen—as punishment. Thought that would stop him. It didn't.
In the end, it was the threat to Mei and his daughter that broke him. He couldn't save them. Couldn't extract them. Could only document how the protocol operated.
Your half-sister is still alive, probably. Still in Shanghai. Her name is Lin. She's still part of the system now, though she may not understand it that way.
Your father left evidence. Instructions. In Box 247, Baltimore. How to contact her. How to verify identity. And something else: he left a key to another box. In New York. With more evidence. Names. Financial records. A plan.
He couldn't execute the plan. He died trying to decide whether to risk you—his son in America—by pursuing it.
Now the decision falls to you.
You have a daughter. Named Sarah. A good name. Your mother's daughter's name would have been different, in another life. But that life never happened.
Your father understood the system operates as a fractal. Self-similar at every scale. Small interventions cascade into system changes. But timing matters. Leverage points matter.
He documented everything. Where to push. How to push. When to push.
What you do with that knowledge is your choice.
But choose consciously. Not silence because it's easier. Choose it because you understand the cost.
I chose silence. I'm dying unfulfilled.
Don't let that be you.
—Catherine Dupré
Paris, January 1984
Tommy sat in his apartment, letter in hand, unable to move.
A half-sister. In Shanghai. Real.
His father's sister. Marie. Also in Shanghai.
A vault with evidence. Instructions. A plan.
And the address book. Shanghai addresses. Names that suddenly made sense.
The pattern connecting across decades. Across continents. Across generations.
Fractal. Self-similar. Recursive.
February 1984
Tommy took the Baltimore key from his closet.
He hadn't touched it in thirteen years. But Catherine's letter had changed something.
The pattern was real. Not paranoia. Not coincidence.
His father had understood how systems operated. Understood that small changes could cascade.
Maybe Tommy could do the same.
Armed with information theory. Chaos theory. Fractal geometry. Armed with thirty years of watching how systems operated.
Maybe Tommy could find the leverage point.
Or maybe he would die trying, like his father. Like Catherine.
But at least he would try.
Tommy put the key in his pocket.
He had a weekend off.
Time to drive to Baltimore.
Time to open Box #247.
Time to see what his father had left him.
Time to decide who else needed to know the truth.
January 28, 1984 - Tommy's apartment
Tommy made the call to Baltimore Bank & Trust.
"I need to access a safety deposit box. Box 247. I'd like to arrange a specific time."
The voice on the other end: "Of course, sir. What date would work for you?"
"February 15th. Morning. 10 AM."
"Let me see..." Papers shuffled. "Yes, February 15th at 10 AM is available. May I have your name?"
"Thomas Forsyth."
A long pause.
"I see. Box 247. Thomas Forsyth." The voice was different now. Careful. "I'll note that. You'll want to speak with our assistant manager, Carol. She'll help you access the box. I'll make sure she's available."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome, sir. We'll see you on the 15th."
Tommy hung up.
He had two weeks to prepare.
February 10, 1984 - News Report
Tommy was at work when he saw it on the break room television.
"...fatal car accident in Baltimore this morning. Carol Martinez, 34, died when her vehicle left the road near Harbor Park. Police say there were no witnesses. Ms. Martinez worked at Baltimore Bank & Trust as an assistant manager..."
Tommy's hands went cold.
Carol Martinez. The name wasn't ringing a bell. But if she was the assistant manager...
He found a newspaper in the trash. Read the full report.
"Carol Martinez, 34, assistant manager at Baltimore Bank & Trust, died in what police are calling a single-vehicle accident. Her car crossed the median on I-95 northbound, struck a tree. Death was instantaneous."
Single-vehicle accident.
Like Dave Miller.
Like his father's warnings about what happened to people who knew too much.
February 13, 1984 - Tommy's apartment
Tommy called the bank again.
"I had an appointment for February 15th. With Carol Martinez."
"I'm very sorry for your loss, sir. Ms. Martinez passed away recently. But we'll have another associate help you with your box access."
"Who?"
"I'm not sure yet, sir. But we'll have someone available."
"Actually," Tommy said slowly, "I'd prefer to reschedule. Can I come on February 16th instead?"
"Of course. February 16th at 10 AM?"
"Yes."
"I'll note that. We'll see you then."
Tommy hung up.
They knew he was coming. They'd killed the woman who was supposed to help him. They were showing him they could reach anyone, anywhere, anytime.
The question was: should he still go?
He thought about his daughter Sarah. About the photographs in the vault. About his half-sister in Shanghai who he'd never met.
He thought about Catherine Dupré's letter. Don't let your life be small. Don't choose silence because it's easier.
He thought about his father. About all the questions Rick had left unanswered.
Tommy made his decision.
He was going to Baltimore.