Raborn shook his head. “I’ve never seen this woman before in my life,” he insisted.
9
ERIN FELT DIZZY and could barely breathe. This was certainly the face she had seen on her computer monitor for years, there could be no doubt about it. Same name, same credentials, same company.
But it wasn’t the same man.
She could hear the difference in his voice immediately. The man she knew so well was more of a tenor, whereas this one had more bass. The other spoke perfect English, but there was a hint of an accent that she had never been able to really define—although since he had been born and raised in the U.S. it must have been a regional accent that he was trying to change or conceal. The man in front of her spoke with no accent whatsoever.
What was going on?
What kind of game was he playing?
It was totally impossible for him not to be the man she had worked with for two years. Not only was he Hugh Raborn in appearance, but his title and company were those of the man she knew. People could put on different voices if they wanted. Celebrity impersonators could sound exactly like just about anyone.
But if he was just acting, just screwing with her mind for some reason, he would still have betrayed at least a hint of recognition during the first instant he had seen her outside of his office. And he had not. No one could fake their reaction to a complete surprise that well. No one.
On the other hand, this had to be him. No other explanation was possible.
So should she challenge him? Make a scene and insist he use his real voice? Her instincts told her not to. She needed to have time to think things through.
All of this analysis flashed across her mind in seconds. “My mistake,” she croaked. “I guess the surprise is on me. I feel like an idiot. The friend I wanted to surprise is also named Hugh Raborn, and also lives in San Diego. But it just goes to show, you shouldn’t Google people and try to surprise them without checking first.”
Both Raborn and the tech named Troy eyed her as though she were a terrorist with a bomb strapped to her chest. Raborn looked as if he was deciding if he should call the police.
“Sorry about this,” continued Erin. She immediately turned to the lab tech. “Troy, if you could lead me out of here, I’ll get out of your hair right away and find the right person.”
Raborn’s eyes narrowed. “She didn’t take any pictures, did she?” he asked Troy.
The lab technician shook his head. “None.”
“Did she have her cell phone out at any time? She could have snapped off a bunch without you realizing.”
“No. She never had it out.”
Raborn caught Erin’s eye and sighed. “Look,” he said, “I know you’ll never understand this, but we try to be as humane as we can be. Testing in animals leads to drugs that save millions of human lives throughout the world. Most of us are animal lovers. Really. I have two dogs at home that I love like children. But we don’t have any choice. We’re required to test our drugs in animals before we test them in humans.”
Erin winced. “I’m really not here about animal rights,” she said. “And I don’t mean you any harm. I just made an innocent mistake. You can both escort me out of here if you’d like.” She frowned deeply. “I’m just as eager to leave as you are to see me go.”
10
ERIN PULLED OFF the road into a mini-mall and parked so she could take stock of what had just happened. Her mind was reeling.
She was faced with two impossible conclusions. Either Raborn had an identical twin, a doppelgänger—who just happened to share his name, title, and company—or he was playing some kind of sick game. She still didn’t believe he could have faked his initial reaction to her so completely. So maybe he had known she was coming. As unlikely as this was, it seemed to make more sense than the alternatives.
She was engaged in illegal activity for him, after all. Maybe he had decided to pretend not to know her. So if she were caught, he could deny everything. He hadn’t seemed the type. But the more she thought about it, the more she couldn’t think of any other explanation that could possibly fit the facts.
Her hands balled into fists of their own volition. So if she called him in private, would he suddenly admit that he knew her, and make up some excuse for his charade? Would he apologize profusely?
You’d think he could have given her some indication. A wink. Anything. He could have told Troy he wanted to personally escort her from the premises, and then while alone with her whispered that he wanted to keep their relationship clandestine for reasons he would explain later.
Or had she been working with someone who had multiple personality disorder? That would be ironic, she thought. Maybe one of his personalities was psychopathic, and the other was a crusader against psychopathy.
She removed her phone from her pocket and took a deep breath. She hit the speed dial to Raborn’s private cell phone. This ought to be interesting. She was furious, and if he thought she’d be forgiving him in this lifetime, he was seriously deluded.
So much for romance, she thought bitterly.
The phone was answered on the third ring. “Hi, Erin,” said an enthusiastic voice. “How are things?”
The voice at the other end was one she knew well, not the one she had just heard at Asclepius. “Don’t give me that shit!” she spat. “What kind of game are you playing here, Hugh? If you didn’t want to admit you knew me, you could have at least winked or something.”
“What are you talking about?” said Raborn.
“What I’m talking about is you pretending not to know me when I visited your office, you shithead. What I’m talking about is you putting on another voice all this time we’ve been Skyping. What, do you use a different voice for each of your accomplices?”
“You visited Asclepius?” said Raborn in alarm.
Erin shook her head in confusion. She wanted to reach through the phone and choke him to death, tell him that of course he knew she had visited Asclepius, but there was something in his tone that compelled her to take his question seriously. “Yes. I wanted to surprise you.”
“Uh-oh,” said Raborn. “That couldn’t have gone well.”
“You were there. You know exactly how it went.”
“I wasn’t there. You must have spoken to the real Dr. Hugh Raborn. Who had no clue who you were.” He paused. “I’m sure you’re pissed off beyond words right now. And I don’t blame you.”
“So why don’t you explain what the hell is going on.”
“Well, obviously I’m not Dr. Raborn. I lied to you. But I had good reason,” he hastened to add.
“Let me guess. You’re his identical twin—but with a different voice.”
“No. No relation. I just needed credibility when I contacted you the first time. And I knew you’d check my background. So I took his identity. When we video chat, I have software that turns my face into his for transmission.”
Erin shook her head adamantly. “Impossible,” she said. “No technology is that good. Your lips and expression match your words perfectly. If there was software out there that could instantly transform your every last expression and lip movement onto a template face, and do it so seamlessly that it could fool someone over dozens of calls, I’d know about it.”
“I’ll explain everything,” said the voice at the other end of the line. “Really.”
“What should I even call you?” she said angrily, her rage intensified even further by the extreme hurt she was feeling. She had been betrayed by someone she had come to think of as a friend and scientific colleague. A man for whom she had made a pact with the devil to assist.
“You could just stick with Raborn, if you want. After two years, using a different name for me might not be ideal.”
“Not ideal?” spat Erin. “Continuing to use the name of someone you’ve been impersonating, someone you’re not, isn’t exactly what I’d call ideal either. So what’s your name? Your real name this time.”
“Drake.”
“Is that a first or
last name?” said Erin.
“Both,” he said, and then before they could discuss it further he added, “Look, Erin, I don’t blame you for being furious. But I know you’ll understand once I explain things. But before we go any further, tell me why you came to visit unannounced.”
“Are you suggesting this is my fault? Because I attempted a surprise? Look, I don’t have to explain my actions. You have to explain yours.”
“I’m not blaming you in any way,” he replied quickly. “This is entirely my fault. One hundred percent. I deceived you and I’ll explain why to your satisfaction. But before we go further, I’d like to know. A surprise visit to San Diego isn’t at all like you. So I have a guess as to what it might be.”
She considered her response for several seconds and then said, “Your guess is right. I found it. I found the combination that reverses psychopathy.”
“Outstanding!” he whispered exultingly. “Unbelievable! I thought it would take another year at least.”
“So did I,” she admitted. And then, as if testing it on for size added, “Drake.”
She had gotten lucky. She had won the lottery. There was no guarantee her efforts would ever succeed, since mice and men were not the same, after all. And even if a cure existed, it could easily have taken her years more to find. And there could have been more fatalities than just three, although given the suspicion that these were beginning to arouse, if one more fatality had occurred she would have had to pull up stakes immediately, with or without a cure.
“I found it about a month ago. I didn’t want to tell you until I’d confirmed it in a large number of inmates.”
“And it worked on all of them?” said Raborn/Drake excitedly. “Total reversal in each case?”
“Yes. Within a few days of administration. On over fifty subjects. Not just the physiology, but the brain patterns in response to emotionally charged words. Everything. We have the absolute cure for psychopathy.”
“Incredible.”
Erin nodded. In the grand scheme of things, this made the parting of the Red Sea seem like a cheap parlor trick.
“Congratulations, Erin. I know you took all the risk, and the heat. I’m forever in your debt.” He paused. “So what was the winning dose combination?”
“That’s one of the things I was coming here to tell you. But now I don’t know which end is up. I’d be an idiot to trust you with this after you’ve just admitted to a grand deception, starting the first second we ever spoke. I was prepared to tell Raborn. Not Drake,” she added pointedly.
“Whoever I am, I’m still the one who made this possible. This is the culmination of considerable time and financial resources on my part. You have to tell me. Right now.” There was suddenly a menacing edge to his voice.
“I don’t have to do anything. And I won’t. Not until I understand what’s going on here.”
A heavy sigh came over the phone. “You’re right,” he said. “Sorry. I’ve got some trust to earn back. Okay, keep the combination secret. That’s fine. But once I’ve explained why I’ve done what I’ve done, you’ll understand. Then you can give me the secret and we can cure this condition once and for all.”
“Are you even in San Diego … Drake?” she asked, purposely using this name more often than she normally would to begin to train her mind to a new reality.
There was a pause. “No. I live in Arizona, believe it or not. Near Yuma. Why don’t we plan to meet tomorrow afternoon at the University of Arizona Student Union. On your home turf. In front of the bookstore entrance. I’ll tell you everything. Say one thirty?”
Erin had the almost irresistible urge to agree, but as desperate as she was to get to the bottom of his deception, she couldn’t do that to Courtney. She wouldn’t do that to Courtney. Especially since her friend had called in favors to take the day off to be with her.
“I have business here in San Diego,” said Erin. “We’ll have to make it Wednesday at one thirty.”
“What business could possibly be more important…”
Drake stopped abruptly, and Erin could imagine him almost literally biting his tongue. He had spoken with a fanatic intensity she had never heard in his voice before.
“Okay,” croaked Drake, as though making a studied effort to speak calmly, but forgetting his teeth were clenched. “Wednesday at one thirty it is.”
“It occurs to me … Drake,” said Erin, “that I don’t even know what you look like.”
“I’ll send photos to your phone before our meeting,” he said. “I look forward to seeing you at the bookstore. Lunch is on me.”
“You’re damn right it is,” said Erin. “And this had better be good.”
“It will be,” he assured her. “Trust me.”
She ended the connection. Trust was the last thing she intended to give the man who had been impersonating Hugh Raborn. He had betrayed her for two years, and she had no idea what was really going on. She intended to take paranoia to ridiculous levels.
And he must have known she now had far less trust in him than she would have for a total stranger, which was why he knew to suggest a meeting place that was crowded and out in the open. Even so, even given her expertise at hand-to-hand combat, she intended to be prepared for this meeting, and take nothing for granted.
Something stunk so bad in Yuma that she could smell it in San Diego. She would go into this meeting with Raborn … with Drake … with her eyes open. And her concealed carry loaded.
11
THE MORE ERIN considered the situation with Drake, the more nervous she became. He seemed confident he could straighten it all out, but what if he was a psychopath himself? His actions seemed to fit the profile. Was he the one psychopath on earth who actually wanted to cure himself? Unlikely. There were doubtlessly many layers to this onion.
But if he was a psychopath caught in a lie, he would do just what he was doing. Roll with it. Come up with a web of even smoother lies to cover his tracks.
Whether he was a psychopath or not, she had to be prepared for him to tell her more lies, weaving a tapestry of deception that was utterly convincing somehow. So no matter what he told her when they met, she’d be a fool to trust him. It wasn’t enough to go to the meeting prepared for a physical trap—she needed to be prepared for a psychological one as well.
What she really needed was a way to check up on what he told her. She needed to stalk him after the meeting was over and they had parted ways. His words were sure to be convincing—but his actions? If he told her he lived in Yuma and she followed him and learned otherwise, then she would know for sure he was still lying to her. But if his actions matched his story, then she could start to believe. She needed to be paranoid, but she also didn’t want to be boxing at shadows if he did tell her the truth.
Courtney would be at work until dinner, so she had plenty of time on her hands. She Googled “GPS tracking devices” on her phone. Endless links appeared immediately. She scanned down the page. The Spy Gear Superstore caught her eye. Spying was exactly what she wanted to do after her meeting with Raborn—with Drake—was over in two days’ time. But was there really an entire store—no, an entire superstore—devoted to spying? Was there anything you couldn’t get through the Internet?
She touched the link on the screen and was taken to the superstore. Hundreds of “most popular products” came up on the screen.
Erin shook her head in disbelief as she slid her index finger down the screen, scrolling. Was this for real? Pens with cameras inside? Neckties with embedded cameras? Really?
Hidden cameras appeared to be the site’s biggest sellers. Cameras in sunglasses, alarm clocks, hats. You name it, someone had put a camera in it. Apparently, nanny-cam technology had come a long way.
Erin continued scrolling down. Invisible ink? Seemed a bit juvenile for this site. Lock-picking tools. Night-vision equipment. Her eyes narrowed. A flash drive preloaded with software that, when downloaded to another computer, would allow the owner of the “spy drive” to record and monito
r all activity on the host computer from their own; everything from keystrokes to Skype sessions. She couldn’t imagine how anything like this could possibly be legal.
She next came to listening devices. She had seen cheap versions of these advertised on television, which the announcer claimed were useful for amplifying sound to help people better hear their televisions, or live performances from the backs of crowded theaters. But while these legitimate claims were being made by a voice-over, the commercials showed people using these devices to eavesdrop on private conversations, which had always made Erin’s stomach turn. The device shown on the Web site was orders of magnitude more sophisticated than the ones she had seen before. It was a six-panel snap-together parabolic dish for only—only!—nine hundred dollars, which could apparently pick up a conversation at almost four hundred yards.
She found the link to GPS devices and searched through them. There were a wide variety, but one in particular was perfect for her needs. It was about the size and weight of a dime, and could be attached to clothing. It used a tiny battery, and rather than doing any work itself, it synched up with the target’s cell phone, causing the cell phone to beam a signal to the person who had deployed the device, providing its location. Parents and employers could already get software that allowed them to track the cell phones of their kids or employees—which Erin thought was a scary trend. This device did the same thing, only with more stealth and less permission.
Erin pasted the name of this device into the search bar and looked for a bricks-and-mortar store that would sell it in the general vicinity, along with directions. A half hour later she arrived at the winning store, a place called Modern Electronic Surveillance, and pulled into the parking lot.
Just as she turned off the engine her cell phone vibrated. She checked the caller ID, but it only told her it was an unknown caller.
“Hello?” she said tentatively, wondering who might be calling.
“Erin Palmer?” said the caller, a man with a deep voice.
The Cure Page 8