by H. L. Wegley
Vince approached the water, knelt and dipped his hand into the it. Cool, but not cold. Perfect for swimming.
Water splashed to his left, sending ripples across the pool.
Vince turned toward the splashing and gasped when he saw a young woman in a skimpy swimming suit walking through the water toward him.
His intellect told him this situation was not good. It also told him this appeared headed toward something even worse. Outside of his intellect, Vince was flying high, on top of the world. The same feeling he experienced after an hour of playing racquetball. Not fatigue, but the endorphin-induced high.
Vince’s body and brain spoke the same message. This was good. It was right. Go with the adventure and enjoy it.
The young woman smiled and put her arms around him. Vince actually felt those arms on his shoulders.
The intense rush of the high grew stronger. Vince summoned every ounce of will he could muster and took the woman’s hands to remove them from his shoulders, but the hands of whatever it was that stood in front of him, gripped his hands and pulled him toward the water.
It had been the perfect temperature for swimming.
Dude, this ain’t real.
The message had come from somewhere beyond Vince’s physical body and brain.
He knew that with certainty, because everything physical about Vince van Gordon had been seduced into joining the scene and playing role scripted for him.
Paul was right. Vince van Gordon was more than a body and a brain full of neurons. His will and the message about reality had come from his real self, while his physical body was controlled, held captive by nerve impulses and sensory stimulation.
Come on, dude. You need to leave now!
If he didn’t, Vince van Gordon was toast.
He yanked the headset off.
But the hands still held his and they weren’t letting go.
The controller lay on the floor next to Vince. He jerked a hand free from the virtual Miss Universe, grabbed the controller, and jammed a thumb on the stop button.
All sensations in his upper body ended, leaving him feeling as if he were paralyzed from the waist up. He tried moving his right arm. When it moved, his upper body returned to its normal state, behaving commands from his brain or his mind—however the interplay of will, mind, and brain actually worked.
At some point, the tempo of Vince’s heart had increased to allegro, and it hadn’t slowed. He pulled the body shirt over his head and threw it on the floor. Vince looked at the wall ahead of him. The lights on the computer equipment mounted on the rack had all gone out.
Good. He stacked the body suit, controller, and headset on the stool, leaving the cubicle as he had found it.
He needed to slip out of the lab without being seen. This game room in a Top-Secret lab, where military applications were being developed, was more like a—he chose not to complete his simile, because the first word that came to mind was one Vince had purposely cut from his vocabulary.
Vince nudged the sliding door. It opened a few inches and he peered out.
The sound of running feet still came from the far end of the lab, but Vince could see no one.
He scampered to the lab door, pulled the big handle, and the thick door opened with the whooshing sound of air rushing from the lab.
Vince slipped through the door, letting it close behind him.
No one in the lobby.
Patrick’s office door was closed and the lights appeared to be off.
Vince strode to the exit and left the building.
In the cool darkness outside, his senses seemed to return to their normal state. Thoughts about the alternate reality he’d experienced, and the reasons it had been created, brought revulsion that turned his stomach.
How could he ever tell Jess about this vile, unclean experience he had been led toward? If he described his experience accurately, it would raise a lot of questions in her mind. It had left unanswered questions in Vince’s own mind.
Thankfully, the experience was over, and he could deal with how to tell Jess later.
When he turned toward his car, a picture of the pool of water and the girl returned to his mind, vivid and in color. Vince’s revulsion had been replaced by a longing to return to the lab and let the scene play out.
He’d invoked his will to take off the suit, and then he turned off the machine. How could this be happening?
What goes into a person’s mind stays forever, dude. You’re supposed to guard it.
Again, Vince invoked the strong will that he’d developed on the football field, the will to conquer the immediate obstacle, whether that obstacle was fear of a three-hundred-pound lineman, or fear of him running over you … or fear of being seduced by a virtual babe in a bikini. The tropical-pool scene slowly faded, taking with it the sensual feelings.
There was only one explanation for what he’d experienced. This was virtual reality augmented by remote-nerve and deep-brain stimulation. Its powerful, addictive forces had nearly sucked Vince van Gordon into its prison. And he’d only had on part of the body suit and played the game for two or three minutes.
Should he tell Jess about it?
Yes. Eventually. But could he, knowing what she would think? Knowing what she would do? As kids they had vowed together that they would never cross certain lines unless they were married.
Jess wouldn’t consider this a virtual violation of their vow. She would deem it a real one. And instead of breaking six boards, her kick would probably break his head.
Vince climbed into his car, backed out of the parking space, and drove through the parking area back to the highway.
Maybe he'd made some progress with Patrick. And he had learned about one product developed in the lab. But now he faced the most challenging task in a challenging day.
He had lost his temper, completely. Vince needed Jess’s forgiveness or there would be no relationship with Jessica Jamison. And groveling wouldn’t be a desperate last measure to gain sympathy. Knowing Jess, groveling would be where he started.
* * *
Vince drove home slowly, taking a long route and taking his time. When he pulled into his driveway at nearly eleven, Jess sat on the front steps swatting at bugs that buzzed her under the front door light.
It was three miles from her apartment in Kent to his house and, last he’d heard, her motorcycle was still in the shop for repairs. She had walked, probably alone and in the dark.
He stopped in the driveway, not waiting for the garage door to open. By the time he slid out and stood at the base of the front steps, Jess stood a step above him, hands on hips, eyeball to eyeball.
“What are you doing here?”
“You lost your temper, then you went out and confronted Patrick, didn't you?”
“Jess, I wouldn't exactly say that I—”
“Did you pound poor Patrick?”
“Poor Patrick?”
“Just tell me—did you commit a crime?”
“No. I just sent him and his office chair rolling across the room.” Entering the lab, his lab—had that been a criminal act? That was a matter of perspective. At the moment, Vince’s perspective said it wasn’t a crime, because any other perspective would entail lying to Jess, and that was a capital offense.
She clamped her hands on his cheeks and forced him to look into her eyes. “If you promise me you’ll never do that again, we’ll both forget it ever happened and I'll—I'll forgive you.”
Vince opened his mouth, but the look on Jess’s face said he shouldn’t comment on her offer, just accept it. She had a temper and Jess held grudges. She was loyal to a fault, but a person did not want to land on her naughty list. She wrote it in indelible ink.
He studied her eyes again in the light of the outdoor pole lamp. Pain had mixed with anger. Vince crumbled. “I promise.”
She stepped into his arms and pressed her cheek into his chest.
Was she crying? He wiped her cheek and his hand came away wet. “I'm sorry, Jess.
But why did you walk all the way—”
“Why do you think, lop ear?” She looked up at him, tears welling in her eyes. “My motorcycle’s in the shop.”
“So the truth comes out.”
Jess shook her head. “No, Vince. Paul said there was danger. We’ve got to be more careful. You’ve got to be more careful. If anything ever happened to you, I …”
He waited, but Jess left her sentence hanging … like their relationship.
She took a deep breath, wiped her eyes and stepped back out of his arms. “You've had too much to deal with since you came home. And now your business partner is acting more like a business competitor in a hostile takeover attempt. The clearances will take some time.” Jess paused, and her gaze bored into his eyes. “I assume you scared and intimidated Patrick into submission.”
“We weren't going to talk about that, remember?”
“It's okay. On this starry, starry night, I forgive you, lop ear.”
“If you forgive me, why the van Gogh insults?”
“Because you deserve them. Now listen. We, uh, you have been under a lot of pressure. We're going to take tomorrow to relax, wind down, and focus on something other than Virtuality.”
He would like to focus on Jess. She had dropped her guard a couple of times, enough to tell him her feelings for him ran deep, even deeper than he had hoped for. They still had a lot to work through, but there seemed to be some light at the end of the dark tunnel of Vince van Gordon's life. “Sounds good. Whatever you'd like to do, I'm game.”
“The weather's going to be beautiful tomorrow, so we’ll make it an all-day outing. I'm taking you rock climbing near Vantage, at Frenchman Coulee.”
“Rock climbing? I thought you wanted to avoid danger and wind down.”
“If you listen to me closely and follow my instructions, there won’t be any danger. Well, no serious danger. And, if you’ll drop me off at the motorcycle shop before midnight, I’ll get my bike back and you won’t have to pick me up in the morning. You’re going to have to get up early enough, anyway.”
“It’s eleven o’clock, Jess. Who’s gonna be at the shop this late in the evening?”
“Carlos Ramirez. He called earlier and said my bike’s ready. He’ll be there until midnight.”
“Oh, yeah. The biker dude from high school. He always did have his eye on you.”
“He’s actually pretty cute for a … ‘biker dude’.”
“How many tattoos does this biker dude have?”
Jess shook her head. “I never thought to inspect him. But, if you insist …”
“I don’t. But tell me something, Jess. When did you start riding motorcycles, hanging out with bikers, doing karate, climbing rock faces, and cheating death?”
“After you left, when I knew you weren't—” She turned away.
“Jess, what are you saying?”
She turned toward the door. “Let's go inside. I've got some YouTube videos you need to watch. They’re about climbing. We can still get to the bike shop by—”
“Jess, look at me, please.”
She didn’t turn around and didn’t reply.
How could his leaving have hurt her as deeply as she implied? Or had she implied anything? After all, she said climbing wasn’t dangerous if you did it right. Maybe the videos would convince him that climbing a few hundred feet up a sheer rock wall to sit on top of it was a safe way to experience nature.
Yeah, sure. Safe, like Humpty Dumpty.
Chapter 12
The pressure was building at MMI and Trent needed to calm the fears of jittery board members before they started a coup to oust him and scrap his plans for their future.
Marco and Cunningham had planned their retirement around anticipated earnings of MMI over the next ten years. They stood to lose the most if Trent’s virtual adventure flopped.
Trent needed to show his cohorts some signs of progress, or the board could quickly nix the move to Las Vegas. He spun his cell on his desk like—what were those little fidget devices kids played with to keep them quiet—spinners?
His cell rang on the third rotation. New York, New York. He stopped the phone and swiped the screen to answer. “Trent, here.”
“This is Sal. Got some news for you that you might want to take advantage of.”
At this point, Trent would seize any advantage he could. “What have you got?”
“First, we’ve started electronic surveillance.”
“Do I want to hear what that entails?”
“It’s probably best that you remain ignorant of the means, if you know what I mean.”
“Okay. But what have you found?”
“It looks like Jessica and Vince have planned a little extracurricular activity. They’re going rock climbing.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yeah. We found out she belongs to a climbing club in the Seattle area and she buys a lot of gear. We won’t mention how we got the other details.”
“Do you know where they’re going?”
“That’s just it. We’re not sure, but we can follow them if you want us to. However, it will cost more than our three thousand a day.”
“Come on, Sal. It’s not that expensive to tail them, is it?”
“Depends on what your tailing them with. I, uh, used that contact you gave me at LACO. He said, if we covered the cost of fuel and the pilot, we could use their chopper. Does that give you any ideas?”
“I like a man with your initiative, Sal, but I told you nobody gets hurt unless I say so. If you step out of line at this juncture, you could screw up the whole deal.”
Trent’s lawyer had called earlier and reported on the terms of the van Gordon-Michaels partnership agreement. If Vince should die without a will, it should be a simple matter for Patrick to purchase van Gordon’s share. But, if some van Gordon heir mounted a legal challenge and it got into the courts, all bets were off as to the eventual outcome. And who knew what assets might be frozen in the interim and for how long they would remain unavailable.
“I’m waiting for orders, Mr. Del Valle.”
The scenario where van Gordon sold to Patrick Michaels was the cleanest path to control of Virtuality. “Find out where the two are going.”
“Using LACO’s chopper?”
“Yes, using the chopper.” The wild card in the whole deal seemed to be Jessica Jamison. Perhaps she should have a tragic climbing accident. Or should she be used as leverage to force Vince to sell? The answer really depended on the nature of the relationship between Vince and the dark-haired babe. After seeing her pictures, Trent guessed Vince van Gordon would do just about anything for her.
“Sal, how soon can the chopper be ready?”
“LACO said by midnight.”
“Get the chopper. Follow them when they leave. Touch bases with me at least every other hour after you take off. When you see where they’re going to be climbing, let me know. I’ll provide further instructions at that time.”
“That kind of leaves us hanging, Mr. Del Valle. Not knowing what we have to do, we won’t know what to bring along.”
“Bring everything you think you might need.”
“That’s quite a bit. It will cost at least a grand more.”
“At this point, Sal, effectiveness is more important than cost. I want you to be prepared to be effective. And whatever you do, don’t lose them.”
“You can count on us, sir. But about contacting you every other hour—during the sensitive part of this job, we might not be able to call. Not knowing where they’re headed, we might be out of cell service part of the time.”
“I understand. Do your best to stay in contact. The moment you know where they’re climbing, I want to hear about it. Then I’ll tell you what you need to do.”
Trent ended the call.
The dilemma Trent faced tied his gut in knots. On a rock face, there was a lot of uncertainty. One of them might fall, or they might both fall. If Sal could only guarantee that one of them would be kept s
afe, who should it be? Stated differently, who did Trent want to endanger, van Gordon or the babe?
He quickly calculated the odds of getting what he wanted, control of Virtuality’s technology. The surest approach was to make certain Jessica Jamison was safe. He could play the babe like a wild card, filling several different roles with a live Jessica. But, if she died, Trent would lose all ability to control stubborn, hot-tempered Vince van Gordon, unless Sal killed the big hot head. But that would be so messy. If, on the other hand, Vince were to have a fatal accident …
Chapter 13
A motorcycle’s engine rumbled as it backed off down the hill on the boulevard.
So Jess had gotten her motorcycle out of the shop at midnight last night. How had she managed that?
If Jess wanted to use her looks to get something, most guys would sacrifice their dignity, making fools of themselves, to please her. But Jess had never done anything like that with Vince.
His thoughts about Jess pulled Vince’s mind back from the edge of sleep. He raised his heavy head from the hand that had propped up his head on the arm of his couch and glanced at his watch. 3:30 a.m. Jess was right on time.
He grabbed his duffle bag and studied the bitter cup of coffee on the end table beside the couch. He abandoned the coffee and hurried downstairs to open the garage door for Jess.
When he entered the double-car garage, the door light was on and the garage door had already opened.
Jess stood outside the garage astride her bike with a door opener in her left hand.
So she had access to Paul’s house. Though Jess downplayed it, the relationship between her and Paul grew closer with each bit of information Vince acquired.
Jess’s right hand clamped tightly on the brake. “I’ve got to park my bike in your garage. This driveway is only a few degrees shy of a cliff. It’s a wonder Paul didn’t—” Jess looked down at the concrete driveway.
The specter of Paul seemed to haunt the house now. Funny, he hadn’t noticed it while alone in his brother’s house. Only after Jess arrived.
Jess eased on the brake lever and let the bike creep down to the level area near the garage door, then pulled off her helmet and hung it on the handlebar. “You know, Paul did slide down the driveway once after an ice storm. He demolished his garage door.”