Outrage (11 page)

Shay reached over and touched Cruz on the thigh. “You too. I couldn't believe what you were doing—what you did to help X. Thank you.”

“De nada,”
Cruz said, and looked away from her, from the intensity of the moment, but he was pleased.

He turned to Fenfang. “What about you? How bad was the seizure?”

“Not so bad,” Fenfang said, but she was sweating, the shine glinting off her chin and cheeks. “I fight her with my thinking, with my memories, with
my
brain.”

The three men were twenty minutes from Janes's house.

Janes lived in the south end of Eugene, on a narrow lane off Spring Boulevard, in an area of long, curving streets with nice houses set in a heavily wooded landscape. Odin hadn't known the area existed until he joined Storm. One of the group's leaders had grown up in an overcooked Swiss chalet about a quarter mile from Janes, as the crow flies, although the streets were so rambling, the driving distance was almost a mile.

“That's another problem,” said Twist when Odin mentioned the chalet. “It'd be easy to get lost out there, but the cops will know the streets. We need a couple escape routes.”

Odin had mapped two routes using one of the clean laptops and the pancake house Wi-Fi, and Twist copied them on a page in his sketchbook. From studying satellite photos, they'd decided they would park on the main street, cut through one of the wooded areas, and approach Janes's house from the side. From there, they'd try to spot the best entry.

As they left the pancake house, Twist taped the sketchbook page to the truck's dash. “We need to rehearse the escape routes,” he said.

When they got to Janes's neighborhood, though, it was clear that their basic plan wouldn't work: the side approach, which appeared heavily wooded from the satellite views, was wide open to a house with a deck next door. If they were seen walking through the trees by a crime-stopper type, the police would be there in four minutes.

“Now what?” Cade asked.

Twist: “How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?”

“What?”

Odin said, “It's a quote from Sherlock Holmes. The question is, what's the truth?”

“The truth is, we can't sneak up on him,” Twist said. “We're gonna have to pull into his driveway and knock on the door. Let's figure out the best way to do that.”

They rehearsed their escape routes and made another pass on the main road, which gave them a glimpse of Janes's house. No lights. “You know, he could be out of town,” Twist said.

“That would bite,” Cade said. “Maybe we should call his lab and ask for him.”

“Let's hold off on that,” Twist said.

They made another pass. The house was still dark. Then another…and there were lights. Cade: “Are we going?”

“Yeah.”

“Once around the neighborhood to check for cops,” Twist said.

As Twist drove the neighborhood, Cade changed into the black filming shirt and mounted the camera under his arm. “Remember to keep his eyes off me as much as you can: you guys are the drama queens.”

“I can do that,” Twist said.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Let's just get it going,” Odin said.

They headed back to Janes's house, but at the turnoff from the main street, Twist swerved into the parking lot of a pizza place called Slice and parked between two pizza delivery cars.

“Man, I could use a slice before we do this,” Cade said. “How about mushroom and sausage and pepperoni?”

“I'm going to buy whatever they've got ready,” Twist said. “When I stick my head out the door and wave at you, that means the coast is clear. The signs on the delivery cars are magnetic. Pull one off and stick it in the back of the truck. You see how this works?”

“I do,” said Cade.

The simple plan worked well. Twist waved; Odin pulled the pizza sign off the roof of the farthest delivery car and stashed it in the back of the truck. Cade moved into the driver's seat. As far as they could tell, they'd attracted no attention at all. Three minutes later, Twist came out with a pizza box in his hand.

“We're now a pizza delivery service,” Cade said as he pulled into traffic and eyed Twist in the rearview mirror. “Your brain is more deviant than mine.”

“Maybe.”

They ate a veggie pizza as they drove—Twist hadn't forgotten Odin's stance against meat—but they could all feel the stress building as they rolled back down Spring Boulevard. They drove past the entrance to Janes's side road one last time and could see a light in the front window.

“Time to put the sign on the roof,” Twist said, and Cade pulled to the curb.

The sign was lit by a battery-powered LED with an external switch. Odin put it on the roof, turned on the light, and got back in the truck.

“We go straight in,” Twist said as they made a U-turn. “Cade: you have your softball bat?”

“Check.”

“When he opens the door, you gotta get right on top of him,” Twist said.

“I got it, I got it,” Cade said.

“When Cade's in…”

“You follow him to make sure Janes is under control, and I take the pizza sign off the truck roof and follow you,” Odin said to Twist. “I got it, I got it.”

“If we pull into the driveway and somebody else comes to the window or the door…”

“We tell them we got the wrong address,” Cade said.

“Let's just do it,” Odin said impatiently. “This is nothing like what Shay's looking at.”

They pulled into the driveway, their headlights sweeping over the windows at the front of the house. A few seconds later, they saw Janes come to the window and peer out at them. He was a narrow-shouldered, soft-looking man with thinning brown hair and oval glasses, still wearing a white shirt and a tie. “That's him,” Odin said.

“I don't see anybody else,” Cade said. “Give me the pizza box.”

“Are you running the video?” Odin asked.

“Yes,” Cade said. He got out of the car with the bat in one hand, hanging down along his street-side leg, and the pizza box in the other. He walked up to the door.

“Got more balls than I do,” Odin said, watching him go. He had his pack between his legs and pulled it over his shoulders.

“He has a history,” Twist said. “And say, didn't you break into a lab that had an armed guard who actually shot somebody?”

“Yeah, yeah. You ready?”

“Yeah.”

They unlatched their car doors, and Twist added, “Don't run.”

Cade was in front of the house and held up the pizza box so Janes could see it through the window. Janes moved toward the door, and Cade, standing in front of it, put the pizza box on the stone stoop. When Janes began to open the door, Cade leaned back, picked one foot up off the ground, and kicked it all the way open, plowing ahead with his bat.

“Go!” Twist said.

Odin pulled the sign off the roof and followed Twist up the walk and through the door. Inside, they found Janes flat on his back, his glasses down on his chin. Cade was standing over him, threatening him with the softball bat. “He says he's alone. I haven't heard anyone else.”

Twist turned to Odin and said, “Grab the pizza box and close the door.”

Janes, still on the floor, said, “I know who you are—and you don't know how much trouble you're in.”

Twist sauntered over to him, taking his time. “Yes, we do.” He put the tip of his cane on Janes's breastbone, as though he were about to punch a hole through to his heart. “Our friend Fenfang had four hundred holes drilled in her skull so you guys could stick wires in her brain, and she's dying from the aftereffects. We know exactly what you people are capable of, but I suspect you don't know what
we
are capable of.” He pressed the cane harder. “You're a multiple murderer, and we can prove it. The feds still execute people for that.”

“I did not kill anyone—”

“We've seen your experiments,” Cade spat. “Don't give me that ‘didn't do it' shit.” He leaned close to Janes so the scientist's face would loom large in the video.

“I did not—”

“Don't be modest,” Twist said, pushing down on the cane. “You're a leading figure in a criminal conspiracy that's murdered dozens of innocent people. You're a prime candidate for the needle.”

Odin came back and bent over Janes, staring down at him with a look so scorching that Janes winced. Twist waved his cane to get Janes's attention back. “You're a scientist, so you should know a little about physics: This gold head is as heavy as a hammer. The handle is twice as long as a hammer handle. If I hit you with it, you won't have to worry about the needle. The same with my friend's softball bat. So don't mess with us. Where's your office?”

“There's nothing in it,” Janes whined.

“Oh, I imagine there's
something
in it,” Twist said. “Get up.”

As Janes started to get up, Odin said to Cade, “If he tries to run, break his legs. He won't fight if his legs are broken.”

“Maybe I should break them now,” Cade said. “Then he won't be able to run.”

“Don't hurt me, don't…”

They needed to keep him scared, and their evident anger gave the threats the weight of the truth.

Janes had a large, bland office, converted from a bedroom. There was a tower-style computer at the side of the desk and a wide high-res screen on top. “Look at this,” Odin said. He pointed to a small square appliance with a glass face, sitting next to the computer screen. “A thumb pad.”

“Excellent,” Cade said. He turned in a circle, taking in the office, more fodder for the video.

They made Janes sit in a reclining chair and recline so he couldn't easily get up. “I'm going to take a stroll through the rest of the house, see what I can see,” Twist said. “Remember—”

“Legs,” Cade said as Twist walked out of the room.

Janes said, “I don't bring my work home. That's forbidden.”

“Really?” Odin said. “Why do you need a thumb pad, then?”

Odin sat at the desk, took a nylon envelope out of his backpack, and shook the flash drives onto the desk.

“Are those…?” Janes asked.

“Yes, they are,” Odin said. He poked the power switch on the computer and waited as it came up.

“Ah…you don't—”

“Know what we're into,” Cade finished for him. “But, dude—we do. We keep telling you that, but you just won't believe.”

“Doesn't believe what?” Twist said, coming back to the office. He shook his head once at Cade: no one else in the house.

Odin was peering at the computer screen. “We need a thumb,” he said.

Cade reached over and grabbed Janes by the necktie and pulled him out of the chair. “If we don't get the correct thumb, we'll smash the wrong one with my bat to remind us which one is right.”

“Goddamn thugs, you're no better—”

“We're better than cold-blooded murderers,” Odin said. “Thumb.”

With Janes's thumb on the pad, the computer opened like a flower blossom.

“What do you think—will we need to take the thumb with us?” Twist asked.

“Gimme a minute to think about that,” Odin said. “If we did, we'd need to keep it fresh. Get some ice, or something….”

Twist poked Janes back into the recliner with his cane. “We have questions. You can enlighten us. Fenfang is having seizures, and periodically the second personality emerges and tries to take control. How do we stop that?”

Janes peered at him for a moment, then asked, “How thoroughly does the second personality take control? I mean, would you say fifty percent?”

Twist waved the gold head of his cane in front of Janes's nose. “Eh-eh. I'm not here to help your research.”

“We knew we had an incomplete conversion,” Janes said.

“Is that what you call it?” Odin snarled, turning away from the computer. “Incomplete conversion? How about brain murder?”

Cade was looming over Janes, filming his answers, but Janes was focused on Odin.

Twist leaned into Janes. “Focus, please. The seizures. How do we stop them?”

“We've found that carbamazepine can be effective,” Janes said, shrinking back. “Sometimes supplemented with gabapentin.”

“What dosages?”

He gave them several dosage possibilities, then said, “About the alternative personality—”

“How do we get rid of it?” Twist asked.

Janes shook his head. “It will never go away entirely. What will most likely happen is that as the primary personality overlays the implant with more recent experiences, both intellectual and sensory, the implant will tend to fade. Eventually, it'll have the status of old memories.”

“What would you do to hurry that along?” Twist asked.

“If I were treating her, I'd prescribe…I don't know…music lessons on an unfamiliar instrument, dance lessons, perhaps, if she's never taken dance. I would have her memorize lists of names from history, but not contemporary history. Unfamiliar names.”

“Do you know who her alternate personality is?” Cade asked.

“No, no…”

“The doctor's lying,” Twist said. “Break some ribs.”

“No, no, no…All right, all right, it's…” He paused. “But you know. I can see it in your face. That means that…she's talked to you? The alternate?”

“You're answering the questions, not me,” Twist said. He rapped Janes's forehead with the gold head, and Janes said, “Ahhhh!” and covered his forehead with one hand. “That hurt. That really hurt.”

“Yes, I know,” Twist said. “Look at me, Dr. Janes.”

Janes looked at him, and Twist nodded at Odin. “You see the bruises on this kid? That's what your Singular security team did to him. Then they nearly drowned him with a shitty little technique called waterboarding, which is condemned by the United Nations and every civilized country. When we went in to save him, your colleagues murdered one of their own. Flat-out cold-blooded murder.”

“I'm a scientist—”

“I don't think a jury will see it that way,” Twist said. Cade stood next to Twist's shoulder, filming. “Now, who is the alternate? Who is it?”

Janes muttered, “Charlotte Dash.”