by C. B. Salem
By the time she walked into her building, past a variety of Tatums in business professional mingling with female colleagues who looked just like they would any other day, she was ready to spend some alone time with her tablet and some legalese. Anything for a distraction. It had just become too overwhelming.
She entered her sterile, orderly office and froze. Her entire body clenched up, practically shriveled up from the inside. There was someone sitting in her chair.
She was blonde, much like Kristina, but with her hair in a short bob as opposed to Kristina’s long waves. Her eyes were an almost impossibly bright green, and she looked to be around sixty, though it was hard to tell with the pharms people took these days. She sat, legs crossed, wearing a cream business suit that stood out among the charcoals and grays at the firm. It looked very, very expensive. Her twisted mouth betrayed an almost comical level of exasperation.
“I was beginning to think you would never come back from lunch,” she said, her voice high like a tinkling bell.
Kristina gathered herself, trying not to show her annoyance just yet. Suits that expensive usually expected to get away with things like this. “You must have some good reason for being in my chair. Can I help you?”
“I’m beginning to doubt it, but you might.”
Kristina bit her tongue and composed herself. “How about you try me?”
“My name is Jenna Bruman,” she said, blinking so quickly she was practically fluttering her eyes. “I’m Landon Tatum’s executive assistant, and I called earlier today about his disappearance.”
Kristina shut the door and rechecked her demeanor, trying to be absolutely certain she was portraying herself as well as possible. “Hello Ms. Bruman. The partners told me about your call. What brings you here?”
“Desperation,” she said, uncrossing and recrossing her legs. “I am absolutely shocked you haven’t contacted me yet.”
Kristina took a deep breath to tamp down her annoyance. “I’ve been following other leads.”
“Oh?” Her finely plucked brows arched up. “Have they led to anything?”
Kristina held the assistant’s gaze. “We’ll see. These things take time. Do you have information pertinent to the investigation beyond what you gave the partners this morning?”
Ms. Bruman pursed her lips and ran a long blue nail on Kristina’s desk. “How long have you been doing this, Ms. Andersen?”
“Doing what, Ms. Bruman? Working at Dunn-Brantley?”
She waved her hand absently, then looked away. “Investigating.”
Kristina bit her bottom lip and tried to keep herself under control. It had been nine years, but that really wasn’t her business. “Do you have some questions as to my capability?”
The assistant’s eyes flashed. “Of course not,” she said slowly.
“Good,” Kristina said, blowing by the insinuation. “Now do you have anything else for me?”
Bruman locked eyes with Kristina again before reaching into the huge purse at her feet and removing a crisp manila envelope. “This was part of the protocol Mr. Tatum established in the event of his disappearance,” she said crisply. “It was to be done personally, because I have Mr. Tatum’s utmost confidence.”
She held the envelope out to Kristina, who stepped forward, took it, and set it on her desk. “Thank you.”
Ms. Bruman waited with her hands folded in front of her. “Well? Aren’t you going to open it?”
“When I’m alone.” Kristina cocked her head and smiled pleasantly. “Client confidence, of course. If anything contained in the envelope requires further assistance from you, you can be sure I’ll be in touch as soon as necessary.”
Her green eyes narrowed, and Kristina braced herself for a confrontation. Thankfully, before she could open her mouth further, Kristina’s door eased open.
It was Anna, and she was carrying two white paper bags of what Kristina guessed was lunch. Her stomach growled.
“Oh, am I interrupting?” Anna asked. She glanced quickly at Kristina, making eye contact for a second before looking back at Ms. Bruman. “I’m so sorry. I can come back.”
Kristina silently thanked whoever was up there for her friend’s interruption. “I believe Ms. Bruman was just leaving.”
Ms. Bruman stared daggers into her, but stood up from Kristina’s chair and took her purse in her hands. “Indeed I am.” She pursed her lips again. “Please don’t make me come here again, Ms. Andersen. I expect an update as soon as possible. You must know people are already growing suspicious.”
Kristina stood aside to let her through. “Of course,” she said, motioning toward the door. “I’ll be sure to stay in touch.”
With one last icy look, she walked through and was gone. It was like a cold chill had left the room, and the sun had begun shining down.
Kristina turned to her friend. “Good timing. I was worried she was going to make me actually lose my cool.” She motioned toward bags in her friend’s hands. “Is one of those for me?”
“You know it.” She pulled out a wax-paper-wrapped sandwich. “Turkey and Swiss on toasted rye from Weismann’s!”
Kristina nearly moaned, she was so happy to see her favorite lunch. “You’re a saint,” she said happily.
They ate without talking until their sandwiches were just about done. Kristina hadn’t realized how hungry she was. Everything that had happened since last night had utterly consumed her. After a few minutes of eating, her mind was spinning in a million different directions, poking and prodding for the best place to launch her investigative efforts.
Why would someone want to kidnap the richest man in the city? Who would have both the audacity and the ability to actually pull it off? Had it even been pulled off, or was Tatum in hiding? She was leaning toward the latter, but what would make him bolt like that?
She shook her head. None of it fit.
“So I take it she was with Tatum?” Anna asked, once they were just about done.
“Yeah.” Kristina finished up her sandwich and crumpled up the old-fashioned wax paper it had come in. “I think she might be stressed.”
Anna smiled. “Guess I would be too.” She crumpled up her own sandwich wrapper and put it into the paper bag. “Speaking of, how was your Recall?”
Kristina grimaced. She had almost begun to forget. “Recall didn’t go as planned,” she said delicately.
“Why? Tom mess up prepping it or something?”
“Not sure. He—” Kristina took a deep breath. “He thinks I might have been drugged or something but can’t know until he gets some test results done on my blood.”
Anna’s eyes opened wide like a couple of old watch faces. “Holy shit. Why does he think that?”
Kristina hesitated. This was kind of tough to explain. She looked down at her comm device to buy time and saw there was a message from Tom. Perfect timing.
Pharm’s called Agent Smith. Look it up.
She looked back up at her friend, her brows already up in challenge. “Ever hear of a pharm called Agent Smith?”
Anna shook her head.
“Me either. But apparently it’s in my blood.”
Anna whipped out her comm device. “Better figure out what it is,” she said.
Soon they were both swiping and tapping in silence. Kristina on her tablet, Anna on her comm. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock on the wall and the sound of fingers—and fingernails, in Anna’s case—tapping at screens.
A minute later, Anna looked up from her device. “Wait, you’re hallucinating?”
Kristina looked up from her own search. “Yeah. I was just about to tell you about that.”
Anna narrowed her eyes. “Why didn’t you say so?”
Kristina took a breath. “Like I said, I was going to tell you. It’s kind of hard to explain what it’s like, though.”
She watched as Anna studied her for a few seconds before her mouth dropped. She’d always been able to read Kristina so well.
“No way,” An
na said. “You’re hallucinating Landon Tatum aren’t you?”
Kristina nodded. Nobody could say her friend was stupid, no matter how ditzy she seemed.
“That sounds...distracting.”
Kristina shrugged. “Whatever. The point is these hallucinations make my job harder.”
Anna shrugged and went back to reading on her comm. Soon, her eyes opened wide. “Wow, this pharm sounds exotic. Any idea who did it?”
Kristina looked up. “Someone who doesn’t want me to find Tatum, I’m guessing.”
“Guess so. Still, they would need to have some serious resources.”
“If they successfully went after Tatum, I’m guessing they would.”
Anna looked back down at her comm and read some more. Kristina did the same on her tablet, finding an article in the Tribune from five months ago about the drug.
A few seconds later, Anna’s comm buzzed, stirring Kristina from her search. Her friend grimaced. “I have to get back. Dunn sounds like she’s about to have an aneurysm.” She held up her comm. “Did you see this article on your new pharm in the Tribune?”
“Was just about to read it,” Kristina said.
“It sounds pretty crazy.” She stood up. “Let me know if I can help, okay?”
“You got it.”
***
Once Anna was gone. Kristina got settled in with the piece from the Tribune. The article was about a group of partygoers who had taken Agent Smith in an old mansion down in Hyde Park. Apparently, dealers had begun selling the pharm as parts of “Experiences” they would orchestrate for groups. In this case, the partygoers had paid quite a bit to engage in an Experience that replicated a recent blockbuster movie with a hot leading couple.
Men and women were given drugs that made them appear to be the male and female leads of the movie, respectively. Combined with costumes—also provided by the dealer—and role play, it let people indulge wild fantasies, usually sexual as couples paired off. Part of the effects of the drug was additional arousal toward the person being hallucinated. Partygoers had thought the police were part of the experience when they came and asked them to join in.
Kristina shook her head in wonder. This stuff had gotten a lot more sophisticated since the pushers she’d known in high school.
She read on. The drug had originated in the German defense department a few years ago as a tool for espionage. It quickly moved into the recreational market once it had been deconstructed, and from there had spread to America. These days, it was one of the higher-end Post-Boom pharms that people indulged in.
The reason for its high price was the need for the DNA of the person that was to appear in the hallucination. Most of the time, this involved celebrities, which meant access was limited. A single strand of hair for an A Lister could mean hundreds of thousands of dollars for a dealer. The potential value had created a minor cottage industry of low-lifes scrounging up celebrity DNA like they were investigating a crime scene.
She sat back from reading. Maybe the drug was why she’d had such a strong attraction to Tatum during Recall. She’d known logically he was desirable before, but what she felt during Recall seemed like something different.
Maybe it had already been in her system when she was talking to him at The Velvet. She had thought she seemed a little coquettish.
She shook her head, trying to focus on more important matters. Who would have access to Tatum to get his DNA?
Her eyes drifted over to the envelope she had been given earlier. Something she had nearly forgotten after getting the text from Tom. After getting up and locking her door, she came back and took the envelope in her hand.
It was thick—stuffed seemingly full—and had large red print across its front.
DO NOT TAMPER
THIS ENVELOPE WILL SELF-DESTRUCT
“Well then,” Kristina murmured to herself. “I guess I’d better figure out how to open you properly.”
While it had the appearance of a normal manila envelope, the material was actually much tougher—seemingly indestructible. The seal, too, was no ordinary glue. It didn’t even budge when she tentatively tried to sneak her finger under.
What the hell did Tatum expect her to do with this thing?
She examined the envelope again, turning it over in her hands. Finally, she saw some text she had missed earlier on the back. It was small, in blue ink, about a third of the way from the corner with the flap on what she supposed was the left edge.
*IDENTIFY HERE*
And below that.
Kristina Andersen
Dunn-Brantley
No further instructions. Just “identify here” plus her name and position. She’d never seen anything like it.
Tentatively, she put her finger over the text and gripped it there for several seconds, hoping it was some sort of trick. This envelope had been meant for her. Maybe it was linked somehow.
After waiting several seconds for some sign she was on the right track, she tossed the envelope on her desk and reached for her comm to call her brother Tom. He would know what to do.
The seal on the envelope flew open with a quiet pop as it landed. She gasped and shot out of her seat as a stack of papers emerged.
At the top of the stack was a letter addressed to her.
CHAPTER SIX
Kristina—
If you have received this correspondence, then my assistant has delivered it to you upon the event of my disappearance. Please be advised that the contents herein are to remain strictly confidential. I have chosen you for any potential investigation in part because of my trust in your discretion (which has been confirmed by an investigation I undertook in so choosing).
Enclosed you will find a chip you can use to access a safety deposit box located in the vault of the Chase Bank branch at the corner of State and Madison. The box contains some resources—cash, etc.—you may deem necessary in your search.
You will also find instructions for how to enter my residence. I have taken the liberty of adding you to the DNA-triggered security system (through the same means by which I used your DNA as a key for this package). This should allow you unencumbered entry into the premises. I imagine the contents of my home may be useful for discerning where I may have (been) disappeared off to.
I have also included the security information for accessing my communications—both business and personal, voice and electronic. It is my hope that some useful evidence may be found there.
One more note: I have undertaken the task of creating this protocol because I have recently become suspicious of certain developments in my business dealings. These suspicions are, in terms of concrete evidence, mostly baseless at this time, and as such I do not want to cloud your investigations with them unnecessarily in case they are mere delusions. However, I have compiled a list, contained in the aforementioned safety deposit box, which you may access there in case your investigation comes to a road block.
Please do not share the contents of this delivery with anyone, except as needed with my assistant Ms. Bruman, who has proven her competence in working for me since my company started. I hope this does not put you in a difficult spot with your firm—the truth is, due to circumstances, I wish to limit the people I trust as much as possible.
Good luck on your search. I have great faith in your ability, Kristina.
—Landon Tatum
She read the letter over a second time and then fished through the contents of the envelope, finding the mentioned chip and instructions. Questions swirled through her mind.
How had he gotten her DNA? Why did he seem to have so much faith in her? What were his intensive investigations, and who did them?
Most importantly: what the hell did he expect her to do with this and where had he gone? Was this some kind of game?
She checked her comm to see if Kevin had gotten back to her. Nothing. Was he having trouble with Teddy? Restless, she stood up and paced her office. Even her uncluttered surroundings felt oppressive. The antique mechanical clock she
kept on the wall ticked away. She had nothing but questions, and they weren’t unwinding one bit.
Why would a man as successful as Tatum decide against hiring a big security firm to look into these concerns of his? Why her? What did he think she could provide? She had faith in her abilities, but she wasn’t anything that unusual.
He must have thought he was in a very dangerous spot. Had he disappeared on his own, or had he been taken? She still didn’t know.
She checked her comm again. Nothing. With a deep breath, she decided to go to Tatum’s apartment and search there to see if there would be any context to add to the electronic communications she would find. There might be something obvious there. If not, she would come back to the office and get to work. Once she started that, it was going to be a long period of bunkering down.
She looked down at her pristine white desk and the envelope on its surface. Shit. What was she supposed to do with the contents of this envelope now that it was open? Tatum hadn’t included any instructions for how to close it, but its contents were valuable enough that it needed to be closed up somehow.
Grimacing at the relative lack of security, she scooped up the envelope and its contents, removed the instructions for accessing his communications and the key to the safety deposit box, then put the rest in her office safe. She might have a chance to cross-reference some communications with items she found in his home, and the safety deposit box seemed like a good thing to be able to access in case of an emergency.
The rest could stay. It wasn’t perfect, but then nobody except Bruman and Anna even knew she had received such an envelope. It should be fine in this safe.
With that done, she grabbed the keys to her car and exited her office, making sure to lock the door this time. This day had already delivered way too many surprises.
***
Roy sat on the edge of the bed in the cheap hotel room he’d checked into that morning and waited. Shifted in his suit jacket. Hadn’t even bothered to take it off. He had to be ready at a moment’s notice. The day had been that bad.