Since losing controlling interest in his media corporation, Trent had become involved in a bevy of environmental and humanitarian causes and created what he told reporters was his “life’s most important work,” the International Environmental Trust. The IET claimed membership throughout the world, although it sometimes seemed a platform for Trent’s zealous, idealistic political and environmental views.
He enjoyed media attention, but Trent was actually something of a recluse, who moved among half a dozen properties he owned in the U.S., Europe, and Africa. If any place qualified as “home,” it would be his ranch in Wyoming, where Trent spent weeks at a time hunting and fly-fishing, or else his futuristic, energy self-sufficient seaside home in California, built into the bluffs near Santa Cruz. His third wife, a veteran cable news anchor who once hosted a weekly entertainment magazine show, had divorced him two and a half years ago, and he apparently lived alone now.
Trent often quoted 18th-century British economist Thomas Malthus, whom Jon Mallory had studied in college.
At twelve minutes past eight, Jon stopped reading. He pulled out a pen and steno pad from his drawer and wrote out a name. Then he began to rearrange the letters, pleasantly surprised how they all fit together.
TWENTY-NINE
ONE HOUR LATER, HE was standing with Melanie Cross in line at Starbucks on M Street. He ordered an orange juice, she a mocha. Her mirrored sunglasses were on top of her head.
“Okay,” she said, as soon as they sat. “So tell me.”
But Jon didn’t want to. Not right away. “I’ve been thinking about what you told me earlier,” he said. “About this TW Paper? I don’t know why, but something about it doesn’t ring true.”
“Come on,” she said. “What did you figure out?”
Jon deliberately waited before speaking again. Melanie tilted her head several ways, making comical furious faces at him.
“Borholm,” he said. “I think it’s Thomas Trent.”
“What?” she said. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
She opened her mouth, her eyes pleading for more.
“Although something about the whole thing doesn’t feel right.”
“Thomas Trent.”
“Yeah. Are you surprised?”
“I guess, a little bit,” she said. “Although, at the same time, it sort of makes sense. He’s used a big chunk of his fortune to fund land-preservation projects in Africa. He’s taken a keen interest in Africa, India, Haiti, Indonesia.” She frowned. “But what would tie him to this TW Paper?”
“What got my attention was this world population conference two years ago.”
“In Geneva.”
“Yeah. You remember it?”
“Of course. Trent gave a speech that was all over the news for a couple of days.” She studied him. “People said he sounded like a Kennedy.”
“Yeah. One of the people he quoted during that speech—and it turns out he quotes all the time—is Thomas Robert Malthus.”
“
“Right. Malthus predicted that the world population would increase faster than the world’s food supply. And if it happened, there would be natural corrections.”
“That’s the essay that influenced Darwin.”
“Right,” he said. “Malthus believed that if population wasn’t checked by mankind, it would be checked in other ways—by famine, epidemic, war.”
“A modern idea.”
“Well, yes. Which is why he has something of a cult following still. Because in some ways, Malthus was right. I mean, at that same conference, there was a report from a panel of scientists who made the claim that a reasonable population ‘capacity’ for the planet is somewhere in the range of two billion people.”
“And we’re past six and a half billion now?”
“Yeah. Seven. And while it’s not growing as much as scientists predicted thirty years ago, the
“The
“Yes. The majority of the world’s population growth is in the developing world. More than ninety percent of population growth over the next twenty years. And it’s already creating problems we aren’t dealing with.”
“Okay,” Melanie said. She cleared her throat. “And Trent is one of those who regards Malthus as something of a visionary, you’re saying?”
“He cites Malthus all the time in his speeches, yes,” he said. “I researched Trent a little, too. Hobbies, interests.”
“And—?”
“He’s an American history nut. Aficionado of the Old West. Loves word games.”
“Okay.”
“Why are you smiling?”
“I’m waiting. What does this have to do with this paper?”
“It has to do with Stuart Thames Borholm.”
“All right,” she said. “Who is he?”
“He’s not anyone. It’s an anagram,” he said. “For Malthus. Thomas Robert Malthus. Stuart Thames Borholm.”
She frowned. He handed her a pen and his notepad and she confirmed what he had already figured out. Jon saw her eyes studying the letters, her thoughts working.
“How did you get that?”
Jon shrugged. “Staring at those words for so long, I guess. I had a gut feeling that they didn’t correspond to any real person. I’m not sure why. The fact that there is no record anywhere of anyone by that name, mostly. It’s pretty difficult these days not to turn up in a Google search.”
“Wait. So, you’re saying, then, that Trent is the person who wrote this TW Paper?” she said, her voice becoming louder. “Who proposed this remaking of the Third World?”
“No. I don’t know that. I don’t even know that this TW Paper exists. For all I know, you made it up.”
She gave him a blank look, before realizing that he was kidding. Jon winked.
“Although it makes sense. Trent is an advocate of population control. Very interested in the Third World. He was also involved in the founding of Olduvai Charities,” Melanie said.
Jon stared at her, wondering now if
“Yes.” He waited for her to say more. She pointedly took her time. “It’s connected with this Project Open Borders I was telling you about. Supposedly, it’s helping distribute flu vaccine throughout parts of Africa.”
Jon remembered what Gus Hebron had said to him when he’d gone to visit him in Reston.
“Can you try to contact Trent?” Melanie asked.
“I did. I left messages at his three offices as soon as I figured it out. I don’t expect to hear back.”
She was silent for a while. They watched the traffic on M Street. Jon felt anxious. He still wasn’t sure what to do, how to figure out his brother’s latest message to him. He felt too wound up to write anything.
