The Trinity Game by Sean Chercover Read Free Book Online

said, “Lock the door.”
    Giuseppe locked the door and stepped forward to the counter, now rubbing his stump through the windbreaker. “I need to speak with Carter Ames.”
    The old man shook his head. “You have something to report, you file a report, let it work its way up the chain. Foundation protocol.”
    “This is not just a report. And we don’t have time.”
    The old man looked at him for almost a full minute. “Do you know what you’re asking?”
    “I do.” Giuseppe scratched his stump harder, willing his phantom hand to recede. “I do understand. But it’s already in motion and they’ve sent a priest to investigate. Tell Mr. Ames it is about a preacher named Tim Trinity. And tell him I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Emory University – Atlanta, Georgia…
    P rofessor Cindy Elder, head of Speech Pathology at Emory University, led Daniel into her book-lined office and offered him a seat. “I haven’t spoken to Father O’Connor since my wedding,” she said. Then she peered over the rims of her elegant glasses. “Sorry to say, I’m a bit of a lapsed Catholic.”
    Daniel smiled. “We’re all lapsed, in one way or another. Anyway, I came for your professional advice. I promise I’m not here to measure your faith.” Then he added, “I told Father O’Connor I needed the best.”
    The professor seemed appropriately flattered. “Well, I’m happy to help in any way I can.”
    Daniel opened his notebook. “If I wanted to learn how to speak backwards, how would I go about that?”
    Cindy Elder’s eyebrows rose. “I beg your pardon?”
    “Speaking English backwards, say, so if you recorded it and played it in reverse and sped it up a bit, it would sound normal.”
    Cindy Elder shook her head and smiled. “I’m guessing you don’t know anything about speech pathology.”
    “You’re guessing right,” said Daniel.
    She picked up the telephone receiver, punched in a number. “Gerry, is the sound lab free? Great, meet me there in five. Thanks.” She hung up the phone and stood. “Let’s go,” she said.

    The lab looked like a scaled-down control room at a recording studio—a large mixing board on a counter, facing a window that looked onto a small room with microphones and sound-deadening foam lining the walls. Alongside the mixing board was a computer screen and a panel with various recording devices and visual sound monitors and other gizmos.
    Cindy Elder introduced Daniel to Gerry, a graduate student who looked like a California surfer dude. Daniel told Gerry what he was after—a way to speak English backwards at two-thirds speed so it sounded natural reversed and sped up.
    Gerry laughed, incredulous. “You serious?”
    “Sure. Why not?”
    “’Cause it’s not possible, Padre.” He caught himself. “Mind if I call you Padre?”
    “Whatever makes you comfortable.”
    “Cool.” Gerry smiled. “I could tell you were one of those hip priests.” He flipped a couple switches on the mixing board, brought up a couple of faders. “Here, check it out.” He pointed to a microphone on the counter. “Say your name into the mic.”
    Daniel leaned forward, said, “Daniel Byrne.”
    Gerry tapped on the computer keyboard, and Daniel’s voice came through the monitors. Gerry tapped some more. “Here’s what it sounds like backward. Listen carefully, I’ll play it a few times.”
    Daniel listened as Gerry played his name, in his own voice, backwards, five times. Gerry pointed at the microphone again. “Now try and say what you just heard.”
    Daniel did.
    “Again.”
    Daniel did it three more times. Gerry tapped on the keyboard some more, recording Daniel’s efforts. “Now I’ll run
that
backward,” Gerry said.
    It didn’t sound close to natural. It didn’t even sound much like his name.
    “But with practice,” said Daniel, “I’d get better.”
    “Not better enough. With practice, you could speak it so we’d understand your name clearly, but it would never sound