The X Factor

by Bella Street

  “I'm, ah, assuming you've already—”

  “I've already looked everywhere I can on my own.”

  He sighed. “No one's going to want to look for a girl they think is contagious.”

  “She's not contagious.”

  “That we know of.”

  Trent clenched his jaw. “Are you going to help me or not?”

  Fenn swallowed. “If I don't, you go public with my little problem, right?”

  “I'm not here to blackmail you. There's help for addiction, you know. I'm assuming there's methadone clinics in 1980?”

  “Not so much in Montana.” He sighed. “Besides, there's no cure for what I've got.”

  Trent pushed his hand through his hair. “Look, I'm not going to rat you out. I just want to find Seffy.”

  Fenn propped up his head with his hand. “The best I can do is...put out an announcement with her description. I won't mention that she's sick, just that she's missing and for people to contact my security force with information.”

  “You might want to call off the lottery then. Either that or up the ante.”

  The Fugere leader appeared confused.

  Trent shook his head. Never mind. “And can I get help to cover the grounds?”

  The compound leader began to nod off. Trent snapped his fingers. “C'mon, Fenn, hold it together.”

  “Ah...I think so. You won't be very popular with my team now that you've forced your way into my quarters.”

  “I'll deal.” Trent stood. “I can see now why your head's not in the game, but you need to know there's stuff going on around here. I don't think you got rid of all the rabble that caused the last problem. They're here and they're after Seffy.”

  “I'll have it...looked into. I promise.”

  Trent surveyed Fenn's ravaged expression and snorted. “Yeah, right.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Trent left the west wing, leaving behind the borrowed uniform and good will of the security force. He had been assigned a walkie talkie and a liaison, but the liaison had been belligerent to say the least. Trent checked his watch. He'd been promised the announcement would go out within the hour. After that he had to wait until tomorrow before Fenn would release men to help search the grounds. Tomorrow.

  It wasn't an option.

  He headed back to Seffy's room to search for any overlooked clue. When he returned to her room, he found it swept clean, the bed made, the smell of disinfectant in the air. He ground his teeth. He'd forgotten about the housekeeping crew who came through once a week. Were they earlier than usual? He left the room and walked down the hall. Trent found Lani emerging from her room.

  “Hey, have you seen Seffy?”

  She turned, her eyes regarded him with her usual wide-eyed stare. “Not since the last time you asked. Are you sure she's not in her room?”

  “I'm sure.”

  Lani stuck out her bottom lip and shook her head. “Sorry.” She headed toward Addison's door.

  Trent followed. She hastened her pace and, bypassing Addison's door, hurried straight to Gareth's, obviously nervous. At her knock, Gareth opened the door with a smile. When he looked past her and saw Trent, his smile faded.

  “What do you want?”

  “Still looking for your bestest friend.”

  Gareth opened the door enough for Lani to slip through under his arm. “I don't know why you're involving us.”

  “An announcement that she's missing will go out today. Be sure and keep an eye out.”

  He shrugged and started to close the door.

  “Gareth, do you guys still hit the cafeteria at about eleven for lunch?”

  He nodded and shut the door with a decided snap. Trent sighed and headed toward the cafeteria. It was ten thirty. Maybe he'd find something, although he didn't have a clue what he was looking for.

  When he arrived, he slipped into the kitchen. Pressing himself against the back side of the giant refrigerator unit, Trent watched the cooks prepare food. They gossiped about people he didn't know and seemed consumed in their tasks. One of the women opened a cupboard and took out a small glass jar. He watched in amazement as she sprinkled some of the contents of the jar on the scrambled eggs.

  “Don't forget now. These are for the outsiders only.”

  No way.

  “Is that the immunity complex you were telling me about?”

  “Yeah, it's also got some kind of medicine in it because they came in from the outside.” She closed the box. “I don't really know or care to tell you the truth. I just do what I'm told.”

  Of course. Drugged food. That could account for Gareth's and the girls disinterest in Seffy's plight. But the hostility? That still didn't make sense.

  When the women took the food to place it under the warmers, Trent crept across the kitchen, grabbed the jar, and hurried to the door. He made a beeline for Olga's apartment and was gratified when he found her there. He held out the jar. “I found the cook sprinkling this on the food for us outsiders.”

  Pulling her glasses from the top of her head, she popped them on her nose and studied the powder. Shifting it inside the bag, a solid form took shape—a pill. “I'll have to confirm it, but if the powder is from pills like this one, I recognize it as methylphenidate, which you might know as Ritalin. You said the cooks were putting this on their food?”

  “They said it just went on food for the outsiders. To help their immunity.”

  “I doubt there is such a thing.” Olga frowned. “My my, all kinds of plots are swirling about.” She made a face and handed him the jar. “It might explain her friends' attitude change, but not the animosity. Ritalin is supposed to be calming, if that's what it is.” She looked at him over her glasses. “Why aren't you affected?”

  “I'm not eating the food they're preparing.”

  The nurse crossed her arms over her chest. “How are you eating?”

  “I steal food when no one is looking.”

  “Why am I not surprised? What about Seffy?”

  “She's not allowed in the cafeteria. Someone sent up a box of dry goods for her.”

  “Can you get it for me? I'll check it out.”

  Trent sighed. “How can this be happening? Who do you think is behind it?” It was on the tip of his tongue to mention Fenn's issues, but he stopped himself in time.

  Olga made a face. “I stay away from all that conspiracy stuff. Taking temperatures and changing bedpans is more my domain. By the way, an announcement came through about Seffy. I assume you had something to do with that?”

  He nodded. “But I don't get help to search the grounds until tomorrow.”

  “I'm sure she'll turn up before then. She strikes me as being a resourceful girl.”

  “I hope so.”

  “What's your next plan of attack?”

  “I'm going to hit some of the places I've taken her, see if she went someplace familiar.”

  “Good idea.”

  He headed toward the door, sending the nurse a tired smile. “Thanks for all your help.”

  Back in Seffy's room, Trent found the box of food. The bread was moldy and everything else was still sealed in the original containers. Apparently the bad guys enjoyed the prospect of poking her with a needle rather than spiking her food.

  Who was behind this? Why was there a conspiracy? He thought back to Malone's reaction when Seffy survived her first exposure to the virus. What had he said? That her stock had gone up? From that moment on, she'd been a pawn between at least two factions, and he wasn't sure who they were. Trent wished he could ask the kitchen where they got the powder. But they already knew him to be an outsider, so it wasn't worth the effort.

  Trent considered Malone. He'd portrayed himself a victim in all this. But maybe he knew more than he was letting on. He decided to find him and ask a few questions. Then again, since Malone usually ate with the others, he'd been exposed to the tainted food and would be no good until he was no longer under the influence. Which exonerated him—for the moment.

 
Could it be Fenn? Trent dismissed the notion. The de facto leader's heroine habit would interfere with any grand, Machiavellian plans. His girlfriend, however, was another matter. But while she was undoubtedly a schemer, she didn't seem the type to play games. And messing with Seffy's head was a game for someone. Someone who wanted to see how far they could push her.

  But why? So she survived a deadly virus. Why not be open about a desire to study her blood chemistry? Seffy probably wouldn't be enthusiastic about the idea, but she'd make herself available.

  No, this was beyond scientific research. This was sick. And possibly deadly. His chest tightened. Where could she be?

  Needing activity, Trent left and headed to the nearest storage closet. He found a flashlight with fresh batteries and decided to search the passageways near their wing. But after spending two hours retracing their steps, he found nothing. A check of the nearby attics yielded the same result.

  “C'mon, Seffy, where are you?” He balled his fists, despising the helpless feeling hollowing out his gut. In frustration, he headed back to her room and stretched out on the bed. Visions of Fenn's ecstatic expression warred with the fear Seffy must surely be feeling at this moment.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Trent rolled over and slowly opened his eyes. The scent of strawberry shampoo on his pillow confused him for a moment. Sef. Memories flooded back and he sat up, scanning her room for any sign of her. He was alone. Trent checked his watch and was shocked to see it was after eight in the evening. Blowing out a disgusted sigh, he got up and went to his own room. It was empty, too.

  He grabbed the walkie and called Richard, his liaison. “Any news?”

  “Nothing,” the man ground out.

  Trent cursed and only barely stopped himself from hurtling the radio across the room. He headed for Gareth's room and found everyone parked in front of the TV again. “You've got to be kidding!”

  “Hey,” Eva said, “you're in the way.”

  Trent stalked across the room and yanked the plug from the wall, making everyone yell in protest. He looked down at the cord in his hand, then noticed another cord connected to the television—a cable that went into the wall. “What's this?” He turned to the others. “Does this TV get cable?”

  “No,” Jared said, annoyed. “Just snow, which is why we watch movies with the VCR.”

  “Well, it's time to take a break. We need to work together to find Seffy.”

  “Are you still on this? She'll turn up and be fine, geez.”

  Trent stared at Addison. “She's your friend. Don't you care?”

  “She stopped caring about us, so you know, what goes around, comes around.”

  “Yeah,” Lani added. “It's time she stood on her own two feet.”

  Trent stared at their mulish expressions, wondering what he was missing. He looked back at the cord, then at the cable. Trent plugged the TV back in and turned it on. Snow appeared as he expected when the VCR was off. He watched the flickering snow for a moment trying to put it all together. His eyes narrowed at the screen. “Oh my God.”

  A phrase flashed on screen, then was gone. But he'd seen the words Seffy puts herself in harm's way. He waited a few more minutes, then saw Seffy needs to stand on her own two feet. Another moment. Seffy's problems are her own.

  “I can't believe it. I can't friggin' believe it!” He turned to the group, almost faint with fury. “You guys are a pathetic bunch of Manchurian Candidates. Don't you see those subliminal messages on the TV?” He kicked the wall, punching a hole in the sheet rock. Trent grabbed the coaxial cable and ripped it from the exposed framing, then grabbed his pocket knife and cut the cable off as far into the wall as he could so they wouldn't be able to hook it back up. He shoved his knife and the piece of cable in his pocket.

  “Look what you did!” Gareth snapped, coming up at him from behind. “Why don't you just leave us alone?”

  Trent spun around and shoved him with all his might, knocking him to the floor. “You make me sick! Seffy is alone and probably freaked out of her mind and you can't tell you're being played?”

  Gareth glowered at him, his expression more petulant than angry as he got to his feet.

  “What's wrong with you?” Jared said, his eyes wide, his face twitching.

  Trent ignored him and looked around the room. He saw plastic-wrapped snacks in bowls on the desk and coffee table. Those were probably tainted as well. He scooped them into a bowl and headed for the door. “Lay off the TV and food for a few days and see if you find it within yourselves to help your friend. If she's still alive.”

  Addison sent him a hard stare. “She abused our trust. Her problems are her own.”

  Trent stalked out the door, slamming it behind him, not wanting to hear one more chanted phrase. God, what a hackneyed, Draconian plan. Like something out of a Cold War spy novel. He stopped. Well, duh. He'd forgotten what year it was, and just who ran the compound before Fenn took over. The place was probably crawling with KGB/hippy commie wannabes. He sighed, unable to believe how effective the plan had so far been—the stupid plan that had played out right under his world-weary nose. And he thought he'd seen it all.

  Trent entered Addison's room and saw the extra cable behind her TV. He cut it to the wall, and did the same in room after room. He also collected any food he saw, dumping it all in a garbage bag he found under one of the bathroom sinks. When he got to Seffy's room, he noted she didn't have an extra cable behind her TV. They probably didn't have the technology to run two feeds at once—one to the other rooms that said Seffy is bad, and one to Seffy's that said you suck. As if she needed it.

  In his room there was no cable either. Maybe they figured he hated her enough and didn't need the extra nudge. Malone had seen his bad behavior in the bunkers. It would be common knowledge to everyone that he gleefully despised Seffy and tormented her at every opportunity.

  After tossing the pile of cables onto the desk, he sank onto his couch and put his head in his hands. Rubbing his face hard, he tried to figure out what to do next. He could tell Fenn about the food additives, but Trent suspected that Fenn probably didn't have a clue about it or how to respond. Masterminding Red plots just didn't seem to be up his heroin-laced alley.

  So who could it be? Baxter seemed too nervous and Eugene too smarmy. He needed a bona fide villain. If Malone wasn't in the mix, then the big bad was a nameless, faceless threat—the worst kind.

  Someone around here was pulling the strings, and without a leader he could count on or committed friends to help, Trent knew it was up to him to figure it out. He jumped up and grabbed his flashlight.

  ***

  Trent returned to his room at two in the morning. He'd spent hours searching the attics, crawl spaces, and empty rooms, questioning residents he'd encountered, while sifting names and faces through his mind as to who was really running Fugere.

  His room was empty, as was Seffy's. He collapsed onto her bed and pressed her pillow against his face. He wracked his brain trying to imagine where she might disappear to. In the morning he'd have the manpower to comb the compound and fields. He'd also return to the disco. Even the mall, if he had to, but that just didn't make any sense.

  Trent considered another option. Maybe Seffy didn't want to be found. Maybe she was fed up with everything and just decided to walk away. She could've hijacked a jeep and driven away, for that matter. But after the impassioned speech about making things right with Gareth? It didn't fit. Plus it didn't appear that she'd taken any clothes. He'd checked. Even her pink tracksuit was still in her drawer.

  The idea of her leaving the grounds gave him the impulse to contact the authorities outside the compound and file a missing person's report. He frowned. Without a social security number—which would be invalid even if she had one here—it would be useless. Maybe he could make up posters to put up around town...without a picture. Then he remembered the way she freaked when she thought she saw someone in the crowd. Posters probably weren't such a good idea either.

  Tr
ent clenched his jaw, fighting a feeling of desperation. Somehow he was sure Seffy was close. In the compound. And she wanted to be found. Was she being held against her will? Was she hurt? Praying for someone to hurry and find her? He closed his eyes, the ramifications making him shudder. Tomorrow had to be the day.

  Or it just might be too late.

  ***

  Fenn was on hand to give the orders for the assembled teams of men at the outside entrance to the compound the following morning. Trent noticed he appeared lucid and focused. It was more than he could claim for himself. Despite humming with adrenaline, his head felt fuzzy and it was all he could do to concentrate. Fenn repeated Seffy's description with a loudspeaker. The men were instructed not to approach her, just to call it in for others to handle.

  Trent had to be satisfied with the effort, but wasn't. After a rough night in her room waking at every sound, exhaustion weighted his bones. Before meeting Fenn here, he'd checked on Gareth and the others, finding them groggy and confused. He didn't know how long it would take for the side effects of the drugs to leave their bodies, or if, in fact, they were off the drug altogether. Maybe the cook had another stash of Ritalin or whatever it was in her cupboard. At any rate, it would be a while before he could expect help from them.

  Not that he wanted it at this point.

  While the men headed out to search the fields and started going room to room to interview residents, Trent went to the computer lab. It occurred to him Seffy might hide there since she had once before. With Eugene and Baxter's help, they searched through every storage unit and hidey hole in the area. The staff's evident concern was heartening, but their zeal produced nothing aside from the knowledge that the compound had a lot of disorganized computer equipment and paperwork.

  Next, he tried the basement section that had led to the discovery of Popov's plot. He'd dragged along a few members of Eugene's computer techs and they spent hours going through the myriad of possible hiding places. Toward evening, Trent dropped down into the hole that led to the secondary basement area.