me put it another way. When I was much younger, I went on vacation to the Pennine Alps in Switzerland to do some hiking. There is a massive mountain that overlooks the village of Zermatt, it’s called The Matterhorn. It was cloudy the entire time I was there. Oh, you could see well enough to hike around, but it was very limited. You couldn’t see the mountain peaks, just the terrain in front of you. I went there specifically to see the Matterhorn. All the time I was there, I knew it was right above me, but I couldn’t see it because of the weather. It was a major disappointment. When I boarded the train to go home, it was still cloudy. I took a last look out the window after the train slowly began to move. All of a sudden, the clouds thinned, and I could see the outline of the Matterhorn. It was massive. Its famous crooked peak was unmistakable. What I knew to exist, but couldn’t prove because I had never seen it, was suddenly validated. I saw the Matterhorn. I still couldn’t see very clearly, but it was there. I finally had proof.”
“Then, a thin place is…?”
Trent paused, as if he were choosing his words carefully before answering the question. Crockett waited patiently.
Several seconds passed before Trent explained. “It’s when the veil between the seen and the unseen becomes transparent. Something we thought or only believed suddenly becomes an undeniable truth.”
“Impressive!” Crockett roared. “Then, I presume your thin place has something to do with what you believe might be causing autism.”
A smile formed under Trent’s moustache. “Remember, before I became a physician, I was a chemist, and I am still a scientist at heart. I was taught that facts were the only acceptable means of explaining why things happen or could happen. Without them, we only have theories. Right now, all I have is a theory, and I probably don’t have enough years remaining in my life to prove my hypothesis correct. We can talk all we want about what we think causes autism and not get much of an audience. If we can prove it, the world will become our classroom.”
The ticking of the kitchen clock above the refrigerator was the only sound as they both sat quietly, each studying the other. Crockett could feel a mutual bond beginning to form. He broke the silence. “Jeremiah, I don’t know what you’re getting me into but I plan to find out.”
Trent looked tentative. “Does that mean what I think it means?”
“Let me put it another way,” Crockett offered. “A distant relative of mine once said that a detective doesn’t like to be told things. He likes to find out! If you’re up to putting up with an irascible son-of-a-bitch like me, I’d like to find out what you know. If you’ll allow me into your world, you’ve got a partner!”
Trent offered no response, not even a hint of facial expression. Seconds passed. They seemed like minutes to Crockett. Then, with a simple nod of his head, Trent offered his outstretched hand. Crockett needed no explanation. He still wasn’t sure exactly why, but he had a new partner.
Chapter 24
July 6, 1992
Angels Camp, California
His old and tattered leather chair wrapped comfortably around his backside, Crockett knew that trying to predict where his new relationship with Trent would lead was anybody’s guess. In his gut, he felt the ride with the gentleman from Minnesota would be worth his time, but he had to be sure.
It was 2 P.M. in Washington, DC, quitting time and still no response to the call he placed the night before to his former secretary. He asked Eliza Templeton to do an informal but discreet background check on Trent. Repeatedly emphasizing the word fast during their conversation apparently had no affect on her. During his six years of service in the Capitol, he never ceased to be amazed with Templeton’s competence. She could work her way around the bureaucracy with the most seasoned veterans, and she didn’t always go through the proper channels. He never asked her how she got her information, and he did not care. A loyal governmental employee for over thirty years, Templeton watched congressional representatives come and go, always maintaining her own sense of purpose that usually escaped most of the elected officials for whom she worked. Results were all he ever demanded of her, and she always produced. He was confident that today would be no different.
A few minutes later, his phone rang. Mrs. Templeton had the information and, as usual, wasted no time for small talk. “Do you want me to read it or fax it to you?”
“Just read it to me.”
“It’s lengthy,” she warned.
“I can take it.”
Templeton’s voice was motherly, stern. “You better take notes. I don’t want to repeat myself.”
Crockett smiled. He couldn’t resist. “I ought to be ashamed, but I never remember anything except self-humiliation. If by some lucky chance there’s some humiliation mixed in with what you have to say, I will remember every detail for years. If not, you better send a fax as well so I can rediscover your comments!”
“You haven’t changed a bit.”
“Let me hear what you have.”
“Here goes.” Templeton read slowly, methodically, as if reading a recipe. “Jeremiah William Trent. He was born in Austin, Minnesota in 1902 and holds a Ph.D. in Chemistry from the University of Minnesota where he graduated Magnum cum Laude in 1925. As if that weren’t enough, he graduated from University of Chicago’s Medical School in 1934 and participated in the 1936 Olympics as a four hundred meter swimmer. He came in fourth. He was appointed Assistant Medical Professor at University of Chicago’s Medical School 1936. He married Mary Lott Olsen two years later in 1938.”
Templeton paused. Crockett could hear her take a deep breath. He held back. He knew there was more and he was right. Templeton continued. “He was appointed Full Medical Professor at University of Chicago Medical School in 1940. He spent four years in the U.S. Army from 1941-1945 where he was a Captain. He returned after World War II to the University of Chicago in 1946. Six years later, he was appointed Chief of Staff at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota. He and his wife had one son, named John. He was born in 1942 but died in 1945. I tried, but I couldn’t find any details on his death. I can go on. Do you want more?”
Crockett bellowed. “How could there be more? The man crammed more into his life than twenty men!”
Ignoring Crockett’s sarcasm, Templeton moved on. “Trent was persuaded by John F. Kennedy in 1959 to join Kennedy’s campaign staff to help develop a medical campaign platform with a promise of a governmental appointment if Kennedy won the election. He agreed and was granted a one-year leave of absence from the Mayo clinic after Kennedy’s election. Kennedy asked him to set up an office to study and reorganize the Center for Disease Control. I was told that Trent had complete access to the entire CDC program and was making some headway but, after Kennedy’s assassination, Lyndon Johnson torpedoed most of Kennedy’s platform and eliminated Trent’s project. He returned to the Mayo Clinic in 1964 and remained there until 1971 when Mrs. Trent died of cancer. After her death, he retired from medical service to write textbooks. He wrote and published three textbooks and has a list of medical society honors longer than both of our arms.”
Crockett smiled, temporarily holding back any response. His conversation with Trent two days earlier had convinced him that he was dealing with a man of action combined with an equally impressive intelligence. Mrs. Templeton’s research had just confirmed what he suspected. Jeremiah Trent was for real. He broke his silence. “Hell, I can understand why he was so reticent to talk about himself. If he told me all that I wouldn’t have
