Rowers in colorful racing shells slice through the water, and rush-hour traffic sounds like a faraway train, a strong wind, a steady rain.

“Why would he use an alias?” I ask.

“He’s paranoid people are out to get him. So he runs and hides, this is according to the brother,” Perry says, and I feel sure the information actually came from Benton.

I seriously doubt the secretary-general of Interpol talked to William Portison himself, and my husband can get the most sensitive information from a stone.

“How old is the brother?” I ask.

“Theo Portison is forty-seven, single, never married. He taught quantum physics at MIT until he was fired about twenty years ago, and this has been checked out and verified.”

He means that Benton has checked it out.

“Theo moved back to Cambridge about a year ago, and in fact I’m guessing that even as we speak he’s either been visited by the FBI or is about to be,” Perry lets me know, and I wonder where Marino is as all this is going on.

“Why was Theo fired?” I inquire, and I glance at new messages, and there’s still nothing from Benton or Lucy.

“The short answer again is he’s crazy,” Perry says as I look out at the sunrise. “The long one is he was causing problems with female students. Apparently he would be overly attentive and then he’d start stalking them. Specifically what got him fired is he planted surveillance devices in one girl’s dorm room. If you’re going to spy? Maybe don’t pick someone at MIT who’s as smart as you are. He got caught.”

“And what has he been doing for the past twenty years?” I ask.

“I don’t think he has to do anything. His wealthy brother takes care of him, and in many ways always has. For a long time Theo lived with their mother in London but she died a few years back. As you’re probably gathering, he has an adjustment disorder, to put it kindly.”

“Would it be fair to say that the authorities have had their eye on Theo Portison for a while? I’m wondering if he has terrorist or radicalized leanings and it was brought to someone’s attention?” After a long empty pause I ask, “Tom? Hello? Are you still there?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes it would be fair,” and that’s as far as he’ll go in letting me know that the Portisons aren’t a new problem.

What they are is a different one. Especially Theo.

“Is there a reason Theo would be in possession of panguite or have access to it?” I ask the secretary-general, bringing us back to the traces of meteorite Ernie found.