MIND FIELDS (34 page)

  “You won’t have to.  Just don’t botch this one, kid.  There’ a crabcake in it for you if all goes well.”

  “Make the reservation at Flanagan’s for tomorrow at eight.  See you then.”  Trace hung up the phone and hurried to the chopper.  He had an hour and a half to make the plane out of Phoenix for BWI.

___

  Richie was glad to be back to work.  It didn’t even seem so bad getting up early on Monday morning. 

  “Oh,” Lara said as a car horn beeped, “that’s my ride.”  Her car’s battery was dead when she went out to start it earlier that morning, and she had called Martha Richards for a ride in to work.  She gave Richie a quick kiss on the cheek and ran out the door.

  “Have a nice day, hon,” he called out after her. 

  Richie glanced at the wall clock.  As usual, he was running late.  He finished his coffee, grabbed his jacket and locked up.  It was a chilly morning and he hurried to get into the car and get some heat on.  He pulled the door closed, blew some warm air into his hands and rubbed them together, keys dangling from his index finger.  With a quick twirl of the finger, the car key flipped into his grasp.  He slipped it into the ignition and gave it a twist.

  “Shit,” he said as he heard the silence.  “Not you too.  What are the odds?  Two dead batteries in the same morning.”  It was too late to call any of the guys for a ride in, so he pulled out his cell phone and called for a cab.  The driver was in front of his house five minutes later.

  “Damn, that was quick,” Richie said to the driver as he got into the back seat.

  “That’s my job, buddy,” he answered without turning around.  “Everybody’s in a hurry these days.  Got to be quick if you want to make a buck in this line of work.  So where to?”

  “The police station on Howard Street.  Know where it is?”

  “Sure thing.  I’ll have you there in ten minutes.”

  “Great.”

  The cab sped off toward the station.  The driver glanced in the rear view mirror and saw Richie reading the morning paper; he felt no great need to disturb him with idle banter.  Rush hour traffic was heavy as usual. As the cab made its way slowly toward Howard Street, neither the driver nor passenger noticed the black Lincoln Continental following closely behind.  Roadwork was obstructing the turn onto Howard Street and they followed the detour signs around the block, stopping at a red light just a few blocks from the station.  At first, Richie kept his head buried in the paper, but the long delay distracted him. 

  “Everything OK?” he asked as he glanced out the window.

  The driver didn’t answer.  Richie looked out the left rear window at the car next to them.  The man in the back of the black Lincoln looked over at him and held up a small object that looked like a TV remote control.  He lifted his right index finger and smiled.  He pointed at Richie, and then down toward the little box.  Just before he pressed a button, Richie recognized the face from the BNI files he had reviewed.  It was tough to be sure through the car window, but he could swear that it was Sean Lightbourne grinning at him through the back window of the Lincoln.

  “No!” he shouted.  “Driver!” he frantically looked up toward the front seat.  The driver, looking out the windshield with his head tilted slightly toward the right, continued to ignore him.  The car jolted forward through the red light into the crossing rush hour traffic.  The last thing that Richie remembered seeing was a large scar on the right side of the driver’s head.

___

  Two days later —

“Jesus,” Paul said as he answered the door to his Poe Towers apartment.  “Are you nuts?  What are you doing here?”

  It was already dark outside, but Sandi was wearing dark glasses and a red floppy hat, trying to conceal her face as much as possible.  “Trying to get into your apartment,” she said.  “Do you think we could take this conversation inside?”  She glanced over her shoulder as one of the elevator doors opened down the hall.

  It caught Paul’s attention too, and he reached out to put an arm around Sandi’s shoulder, pulling her in. “Of course, of course.  Come on in.”  She walked inside, and Paul poked his head out once more, looking right and then left down the hall before closing the door.  “Let me take your coat.”

  “In a couple of minutes, when the chill wears off,” she said.

  “Please,” Paul motioned toward the living room couch.

  “Wow,” Sandi said, looking around the penthouse apartment.  “Nice place.”

  “Yeah, well, the private sector does have its advantages.  I can’t argue with the salary at BNI.”

  “Yeah, but look what you have to do to earn it.”

  “Can’t argue with that either,” he said, hanging his head.  “You were right about that.”

  “Uh uh.”  She shook her head.  “I was talking philosophical differences.  Nobody should have to expect to fall into the rattrap you’ve fallen into.  You’re not like them, Paul.  I know that.”

  “I should have seen it coming.  I should have been able to tell that something...”

  “Give it a rest.  These guys are professionals; it’s what they do.”

  “I guess your right, but still...”  Paul plopped down next to her on the sofa.  “So what are you doing here anyway?  It’s much too dangerous.  Didn’t you hear what happened to Kincade?”

  “Ah, so you don’t think it was an accident either. 
That’s
what I’m doing here.  Kincade put his life on the line for me, for
you.
  We’ve got to do something to help him.”

  “Look, he’s getting the best care money can buy.  The best thing you can do for him is to stay out of sight.  The last thing he needs is to wake up and start worrying about you.”

  “Where’s he at?”

  “He’s over at Harborview.  It’s the best hospital in the city.  Word is, he’s doing OK.”

  “Word is?  You mean you haven’t even gone to visit?”

  “The only thing he needs less than seeing you at the hospital is seeing me.  The only chance we’ve got to get any hard evidence against these guys is if I can dig up something at BNI.  I figure if I lay low until things blow over, maybe they’ll let their guard down a little.  But if the NSA ties me to Kincade, they’ll be on me like white on rice.  I’ll never have a shot at getting out of BNI with anything.”

  “Probably not even your life.”  She had to agree. 

  “Look, San, I’ll keep an eye on him somehow, but you’ve got to get out of here.  If someone were to recognize you...” 

  Sandi reached out and took his hand.  She knew how hard it was for him to ask her to leave.  “How about I go in the morning,” she said as she looked deeply into his eyes.

  “Nighttime would be safer,” he said, squeezing her hand gently.  He couldn’t believe he was asking her to leave.

  “It’ll still be dark in a few hours,” she said, rising from the sofa and pulling Paul up by the arm.

  They kissed, and she felt more at home in his embrace than she had ever felt before.  Her hand slipped down his arm and found its way into his; hand in hand they walked to the bedroom.  Paul dimmed the lights as they entered.

___

  “I don’t want to go, Paul,” Sandi said, waking from a light sleep.  She glanced at the clock; it was two AM.

  “Believe me, I don’t want you to go either, but I want to know that this will be here for us for the rest of our lives.  If you stay, I may lose you forever.”

  “I want my life back, Paul.”

  “I want
our
life back.  Look, I’ve been thinking about this every waking moment.  If the NSA finds out you’re alive, they aren’t going to be too happy about having you around, knowing what you know.  If you try to go to the press, you’re going to have a hard time convincing them that Guy did anything more than get drunk and drive off a slippery bridge on a dark, rainy night.  You’re likely to disappear long before any story gets run.  We still don’t have any hard evidence against them, and the only way we are going to get our lives back is if I get some.  If I do and we go public with it, they can’t touch us; it’d be too obvious.”

  “So what then,” Sandi asked.  “You can’t just waltz in there and ask for a copy of the killer nanobot files.”

  “I don’t know,” Paul said.  I’ll dig around at BNI until I come up with something.”

  “Are you nuts?” Sandi said.  “You know what these people are like.  You’re going to get yourself killed.”

  “What the hell,” he shrugged.  “I’m tired of living without you anyway, San.  I’m not going to lose you again”

  Her eyes swelled with tears.  “God, Paul. These are not amateurs.  They
will
kill you.”

  “Yeah, probably, but only if they catch me,” he feigned a smile.  “Look, if I can’t do this thing, if I can’t find something that will keep them away from you, then I don’t really care what happens to me.”

  “But I do.  I do care.”

  ___

  “So, you’ve finally decided to rejoin us.”  The voice was ghost-like. 

Richard Kincade tried to focus on the face in front of him as he squinted against the bright, thick haze.  “Where am I?” he asked the ghost.

“Honey, you’re in Harborview Hospital.  I’m your nurse, Loolie,” she said in her lilting Jamaican accent.  “You were in one hell of a crack-up last week.”

“Last week?  How long have I been here?” His mind was still clouded, but his vision began to clear. 

The nurse in front of him was a heavy-set Jamaican woman, neatly dressed and wearing latex gloves.  She reached forward and smoothed the bandage on the right side of his head.

“Ouch!” he reached up to feel the bandage.  “How bad?” he asked.

“Real bad.  You were lucky, though.  Not one broken bone except for that little crack in your head, and that was hardly anything to brag about.  You’re wife says it was that thick skull of yours that saved you.”

“Lara?  Is she here?”

“She’s been here all week; hasn’t left your side except when I come in to change that dressing.  I sent her for some lunch.  She’ll be back in a minute.”

The nurse prepared a syringe and walked around the bed to the IV line.

“What’s that?”

“A miracle in a bottle.  That’s what I call it, anyway.  See,” she said as she injected the liquid into the IV line, “you’re getting this new treatment for that bash on the head you got.  It’s a brand new therapy using tiny little robots that go inside your brain to repair any damage from the injury.”

“God, no,” he said, bolting up in bed. “Ah,” he grabbed his head to support it against the throbbing pain.

“Whoa now, honey,” Loolie said, gently pushing him back down.  “The miracle doesn’t work that fast.  You’ve got to rest and let the treatment do its work.  Here, this will help,” she said as she injected a second syringe into the IV.  “It’s a mild sedative; it’ll help calm your nerves.”

“But…no, don’t let me fall asleep again.”  His thoughts were foggy; he desperately tried to remember what Sandi had told him about the nanobots…Phase Three bots…something about Phase Three bots… “I need to make sure they don’t give me the Phase Three bots.  Don’t let them give me Phase Three bots,” he muttered.

“Phase Three?” she said, shaking her head.  “That mind of yours is playing tricks on you, Mr. Kincade.  There’s only two shots, the one you got last week when you came in through the E.R. and the one I just gave you now.”   

“But…” His thoughts were clouded in a half-dream state.  It didn’t make any sense to him, but he could feel the fear welling up inside.

“Look,” the nurse said, pushing the play button on the videodisc player under the TV.  “This will explain it all.”

The TV screen lit up with the bright blue logo of BNI.

“My God,” Richie muttered as he began to remember.  He tried to sit up again, but the sedative Loolie had given him began to take effect.  He fell back against the pillow and was sound asleep when Lara came in.

“How’s he doing,” she asked.

“He woke up for a minute, but he was pretty restless.  I gave him something to help him rest.  He’s going to be fine, ma’am.”  She smiled and walked out the door.

Lara sat next to Richie and held his hand, watching the video explaining the miraculous little robots that were working to repair her husband’s brain.

___

Sandi sat in the waiting area staring out the window at the British Air jumbo jet being prepped at the gate.  On the way to the airport, Paul had taken her by a studio run by Donny Austin, an acquaintance who prided himself in making false ID cards.  Paul had often heard him brag at parties, but never thought he’d be glad to have this low-life as a friend.  “I guess every profession has its place,” he had said to Sandi as they walked in.  They each had a false driver’s license made, and Paul gave Sandi his emergency supply of cash before dropping her off at the airport.

“I’ll meet you at the Kensington Gate Hotel as soon as I can,” was the last thing he had said to her before he drove off.

“Last call for British Air Flight 6897 to London,” came the announcement. 

Sandi grabbed her bag and boarded the plane, wondering if she would ever see Paul again.