by David Roys
Chris collected his keys from the drop-box and was pleased to see his car waiting for him in the car park. He couldn’t believe he’d gotten away with it, but he felt like he’d found a new life. He was determined to make good on his second chance. To hell with work, he said to himself. He planned to take a long holiday, as far away from D.C. as possible. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to stay in this town, or even this country. He drove back to his Georgetown house and felt a free man.
He opened the front door and could smell dinner cooking. This really was turning out to be his lucky day.
‘Hi honey I’m home,’ he shouted. Michelle came through and she threw her arms around him.
‘It’s good to see you,’ she said. ‘How was your day?’
‘Oh it was pretty good. I think I did some of my best work today.’
‘Really,’ said Michelle, ‘what did you do?’
‘I don’t think you’d understand.’
Michelle seemed satisfied with that answer, and had suffered enough technobabble for one lifetime that she had learned never to pursue Chris on work matters when she had been let so easily off the hook.
‘I made dinner,’ she said. ‘Would you like a glass of wine?’
‘I could sure use a drink.’
FIFTY-THREE
Chris woke before the alarm and felt well rested for the first time he could remember. It could have been that he’d had a good night’s sleep, but deep down he knew that an incredible pressure had been lifted from him; he felt light inside. He looked at Michelle in the half-light of dawn and tried to figure out if she was asleep, she looked so peaceful. It brought back memories of what seemed like decades ago, how he liked to watch her sleep and how he had spent many early mornings just watching her, with her child-like innocence. He’d been working too hard, and yes, he’d probably neglected her. He knew that she understood, but should she need to understand? This was a new day and chance to make a new start. From now on things were going to be different and the work-life balance would be more balanced. It was time for Michelle to do something; time for her to follow her dream. Maybe she would go to law school and he could take it easy, lecturing at the university and laying off on the research.
He would let her sleep today so he could go for a run in the park before work. It seemed fitting somehow, after all they had been through, to go to the place where it all began and put this whole thing behind him. The closure would be good for him. A fresh start.
He pushed himself out from under the covers slowly, being careful not to disturb Michelle. As he stood she moved slightly causing him to stop and hold his breath. A few seconds passed and still he waited, watching her, willing her to stay asleep. She snuggled back into her pillow and he breathed again, letting out a long slow sigh.
Chris walked quietly to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face before looking in the mirror. He studied his face; he looked older than he thought he should. Tired.
He didn’t hear Michelle come into the bathroom and he jumped when she grabbed his ass.
‘Hey gorgeous, how about bringing these buns of steel back to bed?’ She dug her nails in.
Chris laughed. ‘Oh you like my firm ass do you?’ he said with a mocking seriousness, as though he was selling a product. He reached back and grabbed her wrists and pulled her round to face him.
‘You know I do,’ she said. She gave him a small kiss and bit his top lip.
‘Then let me go for my workout,’ said Chris. He grabbed her waist with one hand and swept her up with the other. She giggled as he carried her through to the bedroom, and gave a girlish scream as he threw her onto the bed. Chris turned to grab his running gear and she slapped the bed in mock-disgust.
‘I might not be here when you get back you know?’
Chris knew she was joking. It was a routine they had played out many times before but somehow this time the words seemed to hit harder.
‘I love you Michelle,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t spent enough time with you.’
‘Come here,’ she said.
He walked over toward the bed and she hit him with her pillow. Chris fell forward and landed on top of her and she squealed. He kissed her and then he grabbed her wrists and held her down whilst planting kisses on her neck, over her breasts, down her tummy. All the time she squirmed and kicked.
‘I’ve gotta go,’ he said. ‘I need to go and say goodbye to someone.’
‘I’ll be here when you get back,’ she said with a smile.
‘I know.’
Chris left the house, headed along Georgia Avenue and took Longfellow Street towards Rock Creek Park. The air was still fresh and cool but he could tell it was going to be another hot and humid day. It took a few minutes to get into his stride but pretty soon he was making a good pace heading up to Madison Street. The city was just shaking off the night and the streets were all but deserted. A hardware store owner was lifting the shutters and putting his displays on the sidewalk ready for the passing morning trade, hoping to entice a passing commuter with discount power tools. Times were hard and store owners had to take every opportunity to make a sale. Chris nodded a greeting as he passed the guy and he wondered whether he’d still be here next year.
Chris liked to run in D.C. He needed to do more of this. He was amazed how it took a near-death experience in order to appreciate what was good in life. Chris saw the Harvard Street entrance to the park up ahead and he increased his pace. The park could get busy at this time of year, just another reason to exercise before the other guys got out of bed.
He ran onto the track and it felt good to get off the concrete. He felt as though he had escaped the bustle of the city and slowed his pace a little to enjoy the best part of his run. He ran past the tennis club and turned deeper into the park. He slowed a little and looked around. This looked like the place. He kept going but he was walking now. There, just ahead a dark brown stain on the track was barely noticeable. He knelt down and put his hand to the ground with his palm flat against the blood-stained earth.
‘I’m sorry Jasmine,’ he said.
He looked up to the sky.
‘I’m sorry.’
Agent Salter was standing in the hospital room talking to a doctor that was probably twenty years his junior and almost certainly twenty pounds lighter. To his left was a man in bed with a tube in his mouth helping him breath and a tangle of tubes and cables connecting him to various machines and bags.
‘So is he going to wake up?’ asked Salter.
The young doctor was reading something on a clipboard and looked up to make eye contact before answering.
‘The CT scan showed some serious swelling in his brain,’ he said. ‘He’s unconscious because we’ve given him pentobarbital to reduce the metabolic rate of the brain tissue and reduce cerebral blood flow. His best chance of recovery is to let his body heal itself. We’re going to keep him on the barbs for at least two weeks and then we’ll scan again to see how he’s progressing. If he’s progressing well, we’ll stop the medication and wait to see if he wakes up.’
‘And how long will that take?’
‘There really is no way to know; it depends on a lot of things, sometimes it takes months or even a year or two. He may never wake up.’
Salter shrugged and walked over to Ben’s bedside. He put his hand on the top of the bed frame and looked at Ben’s face.
‘Be strong Naylor,’ he said. He turned back to the young doctor. ‘Has he had any visitors?’
‘I wasn’t on when he came in. You can check with the ward nurse. Is he a friend or is this a professional visit?’
Salter wasn’t sure. He knew he couldn’t call Ben a friend, he hardly knew him after all, but he pitied him. He seemed like a good guy, hard-working like a bloodhound sniffing after clues.
‘He was a friend,’ he said. ‘At least I hoped he would be.’
FIFTY-FOUR
Chris walked into Frank Myers’s office and was greeted like the prodigal son. It had been o
ver a month since Chris was last in this office, and nothing had changed, except Frank had a contagious smile that didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave.
‘I’m pleased you came to your senses,’ Frank said. ‘I knew you would. I haven’t even advertised your position yet. The students have missed you.’
Chris settled in to the leather chair and smiled. It did feel good to be back.
‘I’ll need a bit of time to get things sorted, I haven’t thought about lectures for quite some time.’
‘Don’t worry about it Chris, take your time. Jesus, it’s good to see you again. So tell me, what happened in the private sector, what made you change your mind?’
‘I don’t know, I guess it just wasn’t for me. I’m looking to settle down some, spend more time with Michelle and less time glued to a computer screen. I won’t be taking on any more research contracts, but I came to an agreement with my previous sponsor and they’ve agreed we can keep the equipment. I think the students are going to enjoy playing with that kit. Who knows we may even get my headsets working, possibly find a buyer?’
Chris was pleased to find his own office was still tidy. He was determined to keep it like this. He switched on his computer and checked his email, then decided he would delete the lot and start responding to messages from now on. A fresh start.
He pulled out his folder with his notes and lecture plans, trying to remember where he was up to with his various groups. He’d arranged for each of his students to come and see him throughout the day so he could get a good understanding where each of them were with their projects and how they were getting on in general. There was a knock at the door and he figured this for his first appointment.
The man who entered was in his late forties, maybe early fifties. He was impeccably dressed in a dark suit with a crisp white shirt and dark blue tie.
‘I know I’ve been away for a while,’ said Chris, ‘but I’m pretty sure you’re not one of my students.’
The man walked over to Chris and held out a business card, which Chris took and read: Special Agent Eric Salter, FBI.
‘I believe we have a mutual friend,’ said Salter. ‘I tracked you down from the hospital, you went to see Detective Naylor.’
‘How’s he doing?’
‘Not good I’m afraid, but he’s a fighter, and I’m sure he’s going to pull through.’
‘So what can I do for you Mr. Salter?’
‘Word on the street is that you know a thing or two about computers. Is that right?’
‘I’ve never been one to argue with the word on the street.’
‘How much do you know about terrorism Chris?’
‘More than you would expect,’ said Chris. This received a strange look from Salter. It was not the answer he was expecting but he continued with his speech.
‘The days of terrorists planting bombs on buses and shooting up shopping malls is fading fast, Chris. The new battleground for the terrorists won’t be in our cities, but instead will be in our infrastructure. We are entering a new era of cyber-terrorism, where politically motivated hackers rip our government systems apart and collapse our economy.’
‘I’m not sure we need terrorists to do that.’
‘The threat is very real Chris. I’ll be honest with you, I’m looking for recruits to help in our war on cyber-terrorism. I’m offering you a job Chris.’
‘I have a job already.’
‘Can you at least think about it?’
‘I don’t need to think about it. I’ve had enough of protecting our citizens against the evils of terrorism, it’s time for me to have a break. You need to pick on some other guy. I’m not interested.’
Agent Salter seemed disappointed. ‘You have my card,’ he said, ‘if you change your mind.’
Chris waited for Salter to leave the room and then dropped the card in the trash can. He’d had enough of saving his country to last a lifetime.
Chris met with his students, one at a time and it took him most of the day. It was good to find out how they were getting on, but most of them just wanted to know why he hadn’t made a killing in the private sector. If only they knew, he thought to himself when he heard them use that phrase. He decided that he would lecture the kids on the importance of getting it right first time when programming. After all, you never knew when you wouldn’t have sufficient time to test your work.
Chris left University early and drove back to be with Michelle. He was amazed at how he hadn’t been tempted to stay late and start to hack some code. He had missed it in a way, but he wanted to make up for lost time. When Chris opened the door, Michelle came bounding up to him and leapt up, throwing her arms and legs around him.
‘Wow, I thought you’d be pleased to see me, but I wasn’t expecting this.’
Michelle kissed him passionately and Chris dropped his briefcase on the hall floor and carried her up to the bedroom. He lowered her on to the bed and let himself down on top of her. Her legs were still wrapped around his waist.
‘I’ve got something to show you,’ said Michelle. ‘Come with me.’
She let go of Chris and squirmed out from under him, then made her way to the ensuite. She turned to Chris, her wild and impish grin made her seem excited and childish, in a nice way.
‘Come on,’ she said.
Chris got up from the bed and followed her through into the bathroom. Michelle pointed to the sink. There was something by the tap, it looked a little like a thermometer.
‘What?’
‘It’s positive.’
‘What is?’
Michelle kissed him again. ‘Considering you’re such a smart guy, you really can be pretty dumb sometimes. I hope our baby gets its common sense from me.’
‘Our baby?’
‘I’m pregnant.’
Now it was Chris’s turn to beam. He grabbed Michelle and hugged her, then kissed her.
‘Damn,’ he said, ‘just when I thought my life was getting easier.’
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
David Roys was born in Scunthorpe, England in 1970. He now lives in Christchurch, New Zealand with his wife and two beautiful daughters.
Coding Isis was written in Christchurch between 2009 and 2011 when there were over 9,000 earthquakes, the largest of which was a magnitude 7.1. David really hopes that 7.1 will remain the largest earthquake he has ever experienced.
After gaining an honors degree in computing science, David has worked in a variety of programming and IT consulting jobs. In 2009 he co-authored a book on implementing financial systems which helped him to discover his love of writing.
http://Facebook.com/DavidRoysAuthor