The People vs. Alex Cross (Alex Cross #25)(63)
ANITA GLANCED AT the jury. A few, including juror five, were attentive. The eyes of the rest, including juror eleven’s, the PR executive, appeared glazed over by this turn in the trial. Physics? Wave theory?
But Anita had foreseen this response. She looked to Naomi and nodded.
As my niece got up and left the courtroom, my attorney said, “Dr. Rawlins, let’s keep it very basic, shall we?”
Rawlins shrugged and looked to the jury. “All you really need to know is that light travels in waves, just like in the ocean. When the waves from different light sources collide, they’re both changed, just like waves on the ocean coming from different directions and crashing into one another.”
Naomi came back into the courtroom pushing a cart loaded with several cardboard boxes and a small spotlight.
“Keep that in mind,” Rawlins said, getting up from the witness stand. “Waves colliding on the ocean. With the Court’s permission?”
“Granted,” Larch said. “I always liked show-and-tell.”
“I was a big fan too,” Rawlins said.
He went to Naomi, took the spotlight, and set it up on a tripod.
“Judge, can I use an assistant?” Rawlins said.
Larch waved her hand, and the FBI contractor called Ali from the audience.
Rawlins got a manila envelope from the cart, drew out something he kept hidden, and put it in Ali’s palm. When my son opened his hand, you had to look closely to see what seemed to be one of those protective films people put on cell phone screens. Thin, translucent, and rectangular, it was affixed to Ali’s palm and went up to the first joints of his fingers.
“What is that, exactly?” Judge Larch asked, peering over the bench.
“A piece of medium,” Rawlins said. “A polymer that includes silicone. On the medium itself, there is an encoding of a light field captured in the form of an interference pattern. Remember the waves crashing? If you can imagine looking down at the sea crashing around rocks and then taking a three-dimensional picture of it and freezing that moment, you’re on the right track.”
“Okay?” Judge Larch said.
Rawlins had Ali stand with his left shoulder to the bench, facing the jury box. Then he positioned the spotlight at an angle to Ali.
Anita said, “Can we have the courtroom lights dimmed?”
Larch nodded, and the bailiff dimmed the lights until Rawlins, who was holding a small light meter in his hand, said, “Stop.”
You could still see Rawlins and Ali and everyone else in the windowless courtroom, but it was like looking at them in a grainy photograph. Then Naomi hit a switch. The spotlight beam found Ali, who put on sunglasses.
Every one of the jurors was sitting forward, watching intently. Juror five rested his chin on his hands, which were folded on the curve of his cane handle.
Rawlins said, “The coding on the medium, that snapshot of light waves crashing, is done with lasers, tiny intense light beams that are of a specific high-wave frequency.”
He came over in front of the jury, brushed back his strip of lank black hair, and said, “The interesting thing about this three-dimensional coding is that we can see the snapshot of the waves crashing around the rock only if it’s lit by lasers tuned to the same exact wave frequency as the ones used to encode the image in the first place.”
“That went right over my head,” Judge Larch said.
“It’s one of those things better seen anyway,” Anita said.
She moved in front of the bench and faced Ali’s left side. Rawlins stood over by the bailiff’s desk facing Ali’s left side at a forty-five-degree angle.
Naomi killed the spotlight. We were all cast back into that dim, grainy vision of the courtroom. Three hair-thin, gray-blue laser beams flipped on, one held by Anita, one by Rawlins, and the last by Naomi. The beams were easy to see at their sources, but the farther the streams got from the lasers, the harder it was to make out the beam as it passed through the gloom.
But not so the dull blue dots at the end of each laser beam. The three dots danced over Ali’s side and arm before finding his outstretched palm.
“Get it bull’s-eye, now,” Rawlins said. “Exact spot.”
The blue dots quivered and squiggled to a meeting dead center of the encoded medium affixed to Ali’s empty hand.
Gasps went up in the courtroom.
“Son of a bitch!” Wills said, standing in disbelief.
Even I couldn’t believe it. But there it was.
My nine-year-old son’s hand looked like it was wrapped around the pale blue holographic image of a nickel-plated .357 Colt Python revolver.
CHAPTER
83
NAOMI SWITCHED ON the spotlight. The gun vanished from Ali’s hand. He was grinning wildly.
Rawlins said, “The gun disappeared because the waves of the spotlight came crashing down and drowned the waves of the laser beam so they could no longer reach the code in Ali’s hand.”
Naomi killed the spotlight. The hologram of the gun reappeared in Ali’s hand, provoking another round of murmurs, and many in the jury box shook their heads in wonder. Even juror five seemed impressed.
Rawlins then showed the court what the hologram looked like through a video camera set to black-and-white and adjusted to take in a specific amount of light. In the dimmed courtroom, you could see the hologram of the pistol clearly, but through the camera lens and on the screen, there was only a gray wash in Ali’s palm. The spotlight beam came on, and even the gray wash was gone from the image on the courtroom screen.