by Nova Rain
First of all, she wouldn’t have a personal life, at least not for a while. Dating Tanner had had her almost killed. Until she found the strength in herself to meet someone new, she would live in a world of loneliness. Secondly, she would have to do that with the painful memory of her near-death experience. Every time she would ask herself why she was alone, she would remember that horrific incident at our workplace. Most of all, though, distrust would become her companion and worst enemy at the same time. Somewhere down the line, Catherine would go out with someone. Would she trust him? Would she be able to be casual with him, and not question his every move? Boy, those were tough questions. I was afraid that their answers were both negative. In any case, she needed me and Rachel more than ever. She had to know that her sisters were not going to give up on her in what looked like the hardest time of her life. In the early hours of the next morning, I made a promise to myself: to be there for her, no matter the circumstances. It would be a challenge. Working two jobs and dating Chris demanded a lot of time. Nonetheless, I was determined to be the Rosanna she had known and loved for over twenty years.
Dawn was breaking over New York City when the four of us left the police station. Exhausted, I hugged and kissed Chris, and then told him that I would take Catherine home. Once again, he was understanding. He dismissed me with a smile and promised to call me later in the day. In the darkness that had crept into my soul, that man was a beam of light. I couldn’t wait to relish it some more. That morning however, I had to begin showing Catherine my support.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chris
Prior to Richards’s arrival in Tanner’s apartment, I made sure to write down the phone number of his puppet master. Part of me wanted to disclose that information to the cop. It was clear evidence that Tanner hadn’t been operating on his own. There was someone behind this insanity. And that person had to be well-funded. It wasn’t just the nice apartment that shaped my opinion. Forging official documents like medical diplomas costs a lot of money. Whether it was a driver’s license or an ID card, those things are much too expensive. An average nobody like Tanner couldn’t afford that. A bigger part of me, though, rebelled against the notion of sharing this with the cop. Had Richards done his job properly, I wouldn’t have had to step into the situatuon. Catherine’s aspiring killer would be behind bars, waiting for his—long—sentence. She wouldn’t have had to confront him and risk her life in the process. What a dick… What a big, gutless dick. He didn’t have the heart to own up to the truth. His response to that girl’s accusations, was more violence. That reaction convinced me that beating the crap out of him was the right course of action. I didn’t believe in people solving their differences with their fists, but in this case, punches and kicks were warranted. If anything, I believed I should have beaten up on him some more.
Numerous thoughts swirled in my mind while I stared at that piece of paper with the mastermind’s phone number on it. One of them dictated that I should dial it. Perhaps the voice I would hear belonged to some acquaintance of mine. All the same, I couldn’t help but doubt that course of action. In the past three years or so, I had met hundreds of new people, due to my success. Software developers, CEO’s, realtors, lawyers, politicians: that list went on and on. Identifying this person sounded like an impossibility. I could even mistake this person for someone else and end up accusing the wrong individual. Furthermore, calling that psychopath would alert him of the knowledge I had. With Tanner arrested, he had to have known that the police had access to that information. He wouldn’t know that I had it, too. It was preferable for me to have him believe I was in the dark. That way, he would think that he was still in control. And there’s nothing more guaranteed to lead to a mistake than too much confidence. After hours upon hours of careful consideration, I decided that there was only one thing to do: hand that number to my IT department and see if they could track down the phone signal.
Sounds of frantic typing, mixed with conversations were filling the atmosphere as I entered the IT division the following morning. Staring at screens, headsets over their ears as they were talking to customers, they remained oblivious to my presence. In fact, the only one who took notice, was David Evans, the head of the department. Fixing his gaze on me, he left his desk and rushed across the room.
“Mr. Fullerton, what a pleasant surprise!” He spoke in a somewhat quick voice. “I read your interview in ‘Time.’ You made some very interesting points in software development techniques. I agree with all of them, especially…”
“Get your nose out of my ass, David,” I commanded, my jaw hardening. “What did I tell you about suck-ups on your job interview?”
“That you don’t like them,” he replied, lowering his gaze to his feet.
“Exactly.” I gave a firm nod. “You’re not running this department because you’re good at kissing my ass. Anyone with no self-esteem can do that. You’re running this department because you’re the best. Prove it.” Finishing my sentence, I rolled out my fingers, revealing the piece of paper with the phone number on it. “Find out everything about this. Who it belongs to, where it’s currently at… The works.”
“Yes, sir,” David accepted, grabbing the paper. He headed back to his desk at the same, fast pace, his skills offering me an air of confidence. Evans was much more than just a computer expert. His photographic memory and his talent at hacking had earned him his position. There were plenty more candidates to choose from, some of them even more qualified than him. Yet, none of those people had a clue about bypassing firewalls and disabling internet security software.
He drew in a sharp breath and seated himself. “Let’s see.”
A few keystrokes later, a picture of the globe popped up on the screen. A ringing noise signaled the cursor’s course to the right. Much to my confusion, the direction it was heading in, wasn’t the US. It was actually heading towards Europe; northern Europe to be precise. The cursor hovered over Norway, before stopping at its capital city, Oslo. A cloud with coordinates showed up, its frame flashing green.
“Are you sure you typed the right number?” I asked, not believing that an intelligent man like him could have made such a blunder.
“Yeah.” His brief answer didn’t surprise me. Just then, the cursor left the Norwegian capital and went back up. This time, it followed a downward course towards Central Europe. It bypassed Poland and the Czech Republic as I figured out what I was dealing with.
“It’s scrambled,” David’s conclusion confirmed my suspicions, the cursor stopping at Belgrade. “I’m going to need some time to work on this. This guy’s good, but I’m way better.”
“Let me know,” I told him, patting him on the back, my cell buzzing in my pocket.
“Hello?”
“Morning, Chris,” I heard Sammy’s familiar voice. “You’ll be glad to hear I’ve talked to more than half of those pharmaceuticals on my list. Are you in the building?”
“Yeah, I’m coming right up.”
Thank God… The news from my publicist couldn’t have come at a better time. Frustration had begun to set in, because of David’s failed attempt to satisfy my request immediately. It was crystal-clear that the owner of that phone had managed to cover his tracks. He was smart; I had to give him that. Also, I had to give him credit for his computer skills. He had put up a fight against David Evans. Not many hackers in New York could survive a battle against him, but he had. And, judging by the worried look on his face, this war between them would take more than the typical two minutes those strange battles used to last.
I smiled to myself, watching numbers in the elevator panel going up.
29, 30, 31…
The reason for that smile was a simple visualization. Rosanna in a lab coat, holding a clipboard, surrounded by a handful of her colleagues. In other words, my girlfriend in a more dignified line of work, trying to do something meaningful with her life. What she would do in the lab I was imagining her in did matter, but to me, the most important thing was for her t
o put this nerve-wracking and exhausting lifestyle she had now behind. Working two jobs, one that paid almost nothing, and one that made her good money, but at a great personal cost.
I was still striding towards Sam’s office, when I spotted threads of mist flowing out the open door. An orange-like scent rushed into my nostrils, hinting once more what he had been doing. I found him in yet another cloud of vapor, with a brown device in his hand and a smile of satisfaction painted on his face.
“Orange tart,” he announced and drew in another puff. “It’s delicious. It’s like tasting pastry all day long.”
“Oh, for crying out loud,” I murmured, waving threads of vapor away. “Can you even see anything in here?”
“It’s a little foggy, but it’s nothing a dehumidifier can’t handle. I’m buying one tomorrow,” he added, gesturing me towards him. “The list I came up with consists of eight of the most prominent pharmaceuticals in the country. So far, I’ve spoken to five of their representatives. You were right. All but one are funding research.”
At that moment, he picked up a black binder from his desk.
“Number one: Health Chem,” Sam said, flipping open the binder. “Headquartered in Tampa, Florida. They’ve been trying to manufacture a cheaper vaccine for H7N9, aka bird flu. Grant Pharm and Power Aid, contestants two and three are based in Chicago and Cleveland. Both of them are looking to create more effective drugs on Parkinson’s and Huntington’s disease. The fourth pharmaceutical sounds more promising and it’s a lot closer than the other contestants.” He flipped over the second-to-last page, my curiosity growing. There was a big logo on top, in bold letters.
“Phoenix Pharma”
“Where is that?” I posed the question, reading the rest of the page. Right about then, I realized that Sam had been very professional about this. He had done some proper research, finding things like the company’s address, its CEO and even written a summary on each.
“It’s right here in New York,” he responded, his voice dropping an octave for some reason. “They were on the verge of shutdown, back in 2012. They’ve been doing well ever since, though. Now, they’re taking a pretty huge chance if you ask me. Those people want to try to regenerate human brain cells. If they succeed, they’ll come up with a cure for Alzheimer’s.”
“That sounds very ambitious,” I commented. “What’s the catch?”
“They wanted to spend as much money as they could on that research, and for that, they cut down on other departments,” Sam explained, pursing his lips. “Instead of renting a building in the city, they decided to buy an old warehouse up in Vermont. It’s in the middle of nowhere. Imagine a huge forest covered in snow, a fenced building in the middle of it, and you’ll get the picture.”
An air of disappointment blew through me, right after he revealed the location of that warehouse. Yes, it was a lot closer to New York than Florida and Ohio, but it was still more than three hundred miles from the Big Apple. Seeing my girlfriend would become a challenge, one that could jeopardize our relationship.
“Did you talk to them about Rosanna?” I asked, my tone weakening. “Would they hire someone inexperienced like her?”
“Yeah, they don’t have a problem with that,” Sam spoke in a relaxed voice, puffing more vape out of his mouth. “They did clarify she wouldn’t be running the research. They’re looking for more seasoned professionals than her.”
“I can understand that.” I nodded. “Thanks a lot for this, Sammy. I appreciate it.”
Unwilling to wait for a comeback, I grabbed the binder and strode out of his office. Instinctively, I compared two images in my mind. In the first, Rosanna was swirling around a pole, wearing nothing but a purple thong. In the other, she was in a lab coat, putting a small tray under a microscope. Just like that, my mind was made up. I was the only one who could offer her a better future. And I was going to do that, no matter the cost to our relationship.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rosanna
“Meet me on the roof of my building after work tonight. Wear boots. Trust me, you’ll need them.”
Boots? What for? Did Chris have anything kinky in mind?
I loved a good pair of boots. They were ideal in winter, because they kept me warm. Still, wearing those at work was a big no-no. They made me look slutty, not to mention I couldn’t walk around in them. I would get so hot that at some point, I’d have to wear something else.
If Chris had any dirty thoughts about this night, he’d have to put them aside. It wasn’t a matter of will or desire. I longed for his impeccable touch; the sensuality that made my toes curl every time we had sex. It was more of a matter of concentration. Rachel and I were taking turns babysitting Catherine. My body would be in Chris’s arms, but my mind would be six blocks south. It would linger in my friend’s apartment, wondering if she needed something.
Who was I kidding? Catherine did need that something. What was that? Her old self back. The woman that hadn’t met anyone who wanted to murder her. A mind interested in dating men and a non-aching heart. Tanner had robbed her of all that, leaving behind a nervous wreck. Puffy eyes, shedding tears every hour. A broken voice, without its usual playfulness. Little appetite, even for her most favorite dishes. Poor Rachel cooked her roast beef, and all Catherine ate was a couple of mouthfuls. The worst part was none other than her reactions to sudden events like loud noises. The day before, I dropped a full bottle of water on her living room floor. She jumped from her seat, screaming and staring at it like some bomb that was about to go off.
Quietness had replaced the buzz in Chris’s tower that night. The lobby was practically empty, apart from a security guard at the gate. I had to show him my ID to get in.
Before I even glanced at the elevator, I was thinking of ways to ditch my boyfriend and return to Catherine’s apartment. He didn’t deserve this, but in my emotional state, I wasn’t going to be good company. In fact, I would be anything but that. I would probably check my watch every few minutes. He would speak to me, and I would drift. Chris could pay me a compliment, but I’d be too distracted to hear it. Perhaps I shouldn’t have agreed to meet him. But then again, Catherine would be like this for a while. Was I not going to see my boyfriend at all during that time? No. I wouldn’t risk our relationship because of my want to stand by her.
Unlike the rest of the building, the top floor was a rather cold place. Chilling wind was finding its way in from the open doors across from the elevator. With a feeling of puzzlement bothering me, I headed for them. Chris and I could have met somewhere warmer. But, about halfway through the hall, I realized why he wanted me to go up there. A grayish helicopter was on the helipad of the roof, its engines off. Chris himself was in a festive mood, talking to the pilot. Their conversation was cut short when the airman pointed over at me.
“Hey, beautiful,” he addressed me in a relaxed tone as I closed the distance between us. “Have you ever been in a chopper?”
“Not really,” I shook my head in refusal. “Chris, what’s the meaning of this? It’s almost eleven-thirty for God’s sake. Where are we going so late?”
“Tomorrow’s your day off, isn’t it?” He answered my question with a question of his own.
“Yeah, why?”
“So, you can stay up late,” he stated, hopping into the helicopter. “Come on,” he urged, offering me his hand.
“You’re not going to tell me,” I concluded, staring at him.
“Nope,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s not close. That much I can tell you.”
“What am I going to do with you…?” I wondered, taking his hand. That was a rhetorical question. I wasn’t going to get an answer, not from him anyway. Maybe I would get a clue in a few months, but for now, all I could do was just play along. Not that I minded. I liked his attitude. It wasn’t what you’d call “predictable.” Neither was it fitting for a thirty-year old man like him. It showed two of the things that I considered rare in men. Playfulness and innocence.
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nbsp; The helicopter engines roared into life, both rotors spinning, picking up dust from the ground. I belted myself in as he interlocked his fingers with mine. In a matter of seconds, I could see the wide frame of his steel tower, the chopper gaining altitude. Yet, that image was nothing compared to the ones that followed. I sat back, watching the myriad of city lights flickering down below. White, red, blue and green flashed past, sending waves of joy washing over me. Catherine’s issues flew right out of my mind within minutes. In their stead was a unique sensation that gave me goosebumps. I was on top of the world. Literally. Sneaking a peek at the cockpit, I saw the altimeter reading. We were at three thousand feet and still climbing.
By then, I wasn’t interested in finding out our destination. Chris and I were together. I trusted him. This trust, this feeling of security led me to believe that he was taking me someplace nice. And if it was half as good as the experience of riding in a helicopter, the rewards for him would be… Well, let’s just say that I would give him the wildest night in bed ever. It was the least I could do for a man who had been surprising me with his every move.
More than two-and-a-half hours later, the urban scenery had vanished altogether. There were mountaintops on the horizon, with snow shimmering on the slopes in the ample moonlight. Down below, the views that greeted me were not so appealing. In essence, we were flying over pitch-black areas. The darkness was only disrupted by a few light poles every once in five minutes or so. I heard the engines slowing down, the helicopter losing altitude as we neared a tree-lined hill. Branches rustling, trunks shaking below its underbelly, it flew over that hill, and hovered onto something that seemed out of place. Lost in the lush vegetation, was a plot of land containing a large warehouse. The helicopter lights exposed a somewhat predictable view. Snow had blocked the rusty gate, reaching all the way up to the latch on its left.