“I’m sorry, what was that?” Larson asked Drew.
“I was just wondering if you’re having a bad day.”
Larson’s face burned a deeper shade of red. “That’s really none of your concern, son.”
“I’m not your son.”
Lucas moved a step closer to Larson, sensing the tension mounting in the room. “I assume you have clearance for a detailed inspection? Access to this project is restricted to authorized personnel only, as prescribed under Article 2, Section 12 of the University’s Research Guidelines and Confidentiality Act of 2010.”
“And who do you think wrote those guidelines?”
“I take it you did?”
Larson grinned.
“Then you must also know we have the right to ask for proof of authorization before we show you anything.”
“I’m here under direct orders from President Lathrop.”
“That isn’t proof,” Drew said.
“No, it’s not,” Lucas added. “I’m not showing you dick without the proper paperwork.”
The strength and tone of Larson’s voice changed to a higher level. “You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you, Dr. Ramsey?”
Lucas blinked, clenching his fists. “Smart enough. Otherwise the university wouldn’t have hired me to run this project. What’s your point?”
The lawyer walked the perimeter of the room, circling around to the chamber’s control station. He looked through the observation window, then turned to Lucas.
“Yes, the university hired you, just like they did me. Which means, ultimately, we both work for President Lathrop.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
“You have a job to do and so do I. That’s why President Lathrop sent me here. To do my job. And what do you think that job is?”
“To be a total pain in my ass,” Lucas quipped.
Drew laughed.
Larson didn’t. “I’m sorry you feel that way. But that still doesn’t change the fact that all of your safety protocols and material handling procedures need to be reviewed to ensure this is a safe working environment. Not only for you and your brother, but for everyone else in this building. Am I making myself clear?”
“I hear your words. But the answer is no. Hell no.” Lucas stepped around the crates to position himself better.
“Excuse me?”
“Not until Professor Kleezebee tells me himself that I should cooperate with this Gestapo bullshit. He’s the dean of the Astrophysics Department and I answer to him. Not to you. Not to President Lathrop.”
“I speak for the Advisory Committee, and Dr. Kleezebee answers to them. Therefore, I don’t need Kleezebee’s or anyone else’s permission.”
“Actually, that’s not true,” Drew mumbled.
“I thought you were here on orders from President Lathrop?” Lucas said.
“The Advisory Committee reports to the president, so both statements are true,” Larson’s voice cracked.
“Sounds like lawyer-speak to me,” Drew said with heat in his words.
“I need to review your operations manual and have you walk me through the protocols step by step,” Larson said, walking back from the control station to where he’d left his briefcase earlier. He stood at the intersecting point between Lucas, Drew, and the lab door.
Lucas folded his arms across his chest and didn’t answer. He drew in a deep breath and held it, pushing his chest out and letting his jaw stiffen.
“Are you denying my request?” the attorney asked.
Lucas nodded.
“If you won’t cooperate, then you leave me no choice. I’m shutting this project down pending a formal review.”
“You can’t do that!” Drew snapped.
“I just did,” Larson said with confidence.
Lucas exhaled slowly to control his temper. It worked. He gritted his teeth and pointed at the lab door. “There’s the exit. I suggest you use it.”
“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” Drew said, looking at Lucas, then at the attorney.
The attorney turned to Drew with fire in his eyes and a raised fist. “Crippled little boys in wheelchairs need to keep their goddamned mouths shut!”
Lucas charged the attorney and let a punch fly without thinking. His fist landed a hard, sharp blow across the lawyer’s chin.
Larson staggered backward, falling toward the wall next to the door. His ass hit just short of the wall at an angle, then the back of his skull made impact. The man flopped to the ground with eyes closed and chest heaving.
“Lucas!” Drew yelled.
“Damn, that felt good,” he answered, shaking his hand to disburse the pain. “He picked absolutely the wrong day to threaten you.”
“I suppose he had it coming.”
“Yeah, big time. Nobody raises a hand to a Ramsay! Nobody!”
“Thanks for standing up for me.”
“That’s my job,” Lucas said, grabbing Larson’s limp body by the back of the pants and the collar of the suit. “Get the door for me,” he told Drew, pulling Larson’s frame across the floor.
As soon as Drew had the door open, Lucas drug the lawyer into the hallway, head first. He deposited Larson at the feet of Bruno, who had just entered the hallway from inside Griffith’s lab door across the hall.
Bruno’s mouth flopped open.
Drew smiled, tossing the lawyer’s briefcase on top of his body. “Well, if Randol Harrison Larson the Third wasn’t having a bad day before, he sure is now.”
Lucas laughed and looked at Bruno. “You need to call building services and tell them the trash is piling up in the hallway.”
23
Lucas felt the F-250 rock when he collapsed onto Masago’s chest after his orgasm released. Her feet, legs, and arms were shaking in powerful spurts, rattling the muscles of both her body and his. He felt a cold draft rise up from the passenger door and wash across his toes, which were dangling from the end of the truck’s bench seat. He unhooked his right arm from the bottom of the steering wheel and brought his hand up to her face, tucking a clump of disheveled hair behind her ear, and then spoke softly to her.
“That was—”
“Amazing!” she said with glazed eyes and rapid breath. “Totally amazing. I’ve dreamed of what it would be like—with you—my entire life, and it was wonderful.”
He wasn’t sure how to respond to her unexpected confession. He wanted to thank her and make her aware of how special her gift was to him, but none of the words in his mind sounded appropriate. She seemed content, so he decided to just leave it at that. He slid his body away and against the back of the seat, taking weight off her tiny frame. “Next time, though, let’s pick a more comfortable place. I feel like a pretzel.”
She smiled as her eyes rolled back into her head, revealing the whites of her eyes. “I feel wonderful.”
Lucas heard the sound of an engine roar past the truck before brakes squealed and a couple of thuds rang out—somebody hit something, he thought. A moment later, a creaky car door opened and slammed shut.
“Who’s here?” she whispered after her eyes returned to their normal position.
“Let me check,” Lucas answered quietly. He stuck his head up until he could see over the dash and through the windshield. A blue-colored sedan was parked ten feet in front of them with two of its wheels sitting on the curb.
“Cops?” she asked.
“No, but some blind person just parked in front of us.” Lucas read the manufacturer’s name on the trunk. “It’s a Volvo, but I don’t see anyone inside.”
“The professor’s Volvo?”
“Wrong color, and it’s in way too good of shape.”
“Oh my God! Did someone see us?”
“Are you serious? They’d have to be ten feet tall to see in here.”
“Don’t be a smart-ass. You know what I mean. Don’t come a knocking when this truck is a rockin’.”
He laughed. “No, I don’t think so. Looks like the driver was in a hur
ry. Drove over the curb like a drunken sailor,” he told her, scanning the area. He didn’t see anyone. “Might have gone inside.”
“Grab my clothes. Hurry,” she said.
He sat up and moved to the end of the seat, untangling his clothes from hers. The two of them got dressed in a flash.
“We should leave,” she said.
Lucas rolled the window down. “No. Drive to the end of the street and turn around. I want to get a better look at that Volvo.”
She turned the key in the ignition and fired the engine, then put the gearshift into drive. The truck crept forward.
Lucas studied the car while they inched past the visitor’s four-door Volvo. He noticed two spots on the driver’s door where chunks of blue paint had chipped away, revealing a faded yellow color underneath. He looked at the windshield. It was covered with dirt and bug carcasses and had a prominent zigzag crack running horizontally from one end to the other.
“Wait,” he said. “Stop.”
She jammed on the brake.
He rocked forward. “That’s the professor’s car. He must have fixed the dents and painted it blue. I can see the piss-yellow paint bleeding through.”
“Are you sure?”
“It even has the same crack in the windshield. Oh yeah, this is definitely his car.”
“Want me to back up?”
“No, keep going,” he said, pointing down the street. “Just flip around and park over there by the mailbox.”
She did as he instructed. “Now what?”
“Time for a face-to-face,” he answered, opening the passenger-side door. “I’ll be back in a flash.”
“No, I’m coming with you.”
“It’s better if you stay here.” He got out and shut the truck door quietly, not wanting to alert anyone to his presence, at least not until he could assess the situation to make sure the driver was actually the professor and that it was safe. His copies could be around somewhere, waiting in the shadows.
She leaned over and lowered the window on the passenger’s side with the hand crank. “We’re a team, remember? I go where you go, that’s the deal.”
He stood on the running board and stuck his head inside the opening, resting his elbows on the window frame. He spoke softly, not wanting to upset her. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with here.”
“Bit paranoid, aren’t we? It’s just your professor.”
“We don’t know that for sure.”
“How so?”
“Think about it. If I knew to come here, then my copies would, too. They could already be here, waiting to ambush.”
“Then you’re going to need my help either way—as backup.”
Lucas checked the area behind him, scanning the apartment complex and its surrounding neighborhood. He didn’t see anyone and it looked quiet. Maybe too quiet. He looked back at her. “It’s too dangerous.”
She shook her head with a determined look on her face. “Whether you like it or not, I’m going. Your knee’s not exactly at a hundred percent.”
“Well, neither are you.”
Her face tightened and her lips pinched. “No, I’m not letting you out of my sight. End of discussion.”
His head slumped, resting on his forearms. He paused, letting the frustration drain from his body. His eyes locked onto hers, hoping he might see a crack in her resolve. He didn’t.
“Fine. But I make all the decisions and do all the talking. Agreed?”
She nodded.
He stepped back.
She rolled the passenger window up before hopping out of the truck and joining him on the sidewalk. “Where do you think he went?”
“Either his apartment or ours. Or maybe the manager’s office. Or possibly Trevor’s place.”
“So, basically what you’re saying is you really have no clue.”
“I do know, except there are multiple choices. We’ll have to eliminate them one by one.”
She stuck her tongue out at him.
“Let’s start with my old place; at least, where it used to be. It’s on the third floor. Stay behind me and keep quiet. Not a peep. Got it?”
She pushed at his shoulder. “Now that we’re a couple, you really need to treat me a little nicer.”
“A couple? Because of what we just did?”
She nodded.
He rolled his eyes. “Just so you know, this is me being nice.”
She smacked him again, this time on the back of the head. “We’ll have to work on that.”
Lucas put his hand out, palm up with fingers spread. She took his hand, interlacing her fingers inside of his. She smiled, then brought his hand to her mouth and gave it a series of short kisses.
He knew he had a five-alarm clinger on his hands, but the sex was amazing and she was gorgeous. Consider yourself lucky, he scolded himself. Beautiful women aren’t exactly falling at your feet, so man up and be the kind of boyfriend she’s expecting. Otherwise, what just happened in the front seat will be a one and done event.
“Masago? Sweetie? I need you to be as quiet as a mouse. Can you do that for me? Pretty please?” He shook his head. “There, is that better?”
“Yes. Much. Now that wasn’t so hard was it?”
He felt a bit emasculated, but decided to let it go. He turned forward, moving along the sidewalk with her in tow, heading for the stairwell at the end of the apartment complex where a multi-story scaffolding rig was standing.
The construction dust was thick in some areas of the property where it had accumulated from the wind. It crunched under their feet as they walked to the base of the stairwell and began the climb. A few minutes later, they were on the catwalk of the third level.
“Which one is it?” Masago asked.
He pointed. “Second door from the end. I wanted a first floor apartment with Drew’s wheelchair and all.”
“Wheelchair?”
“Yeah, car accident when he was little. He survived but his mom didn’t. That’s how we both ended up in an orphanage and were adopted together.”
“How’d you get Drew down the stairs?” she asked in a whisper.
“Elevator’s just around the corner.”
“Handy.”
“Yeah, when it worked. That’s why my back was always sore. I had to carry Drew somewhere at least once a day for one reason or another. Not every building is handicapped accessible, let alone handicapped friendly.”
“You must love him very much.”
“He’s my brother. Someone had to help him.”
She hugged his arm, squeezing it tightly. “Family is important.”
“Yes, it is. That’s why I made this trip,” Lucas quipped, moving slow. He took a few seconds to lean around and look inside the front window of each apartment as they moved. The rooms were vacant, with drywall patches and tape seams exposed on the walls and the ceiling. “Looks like they’re working on this floor.”
He kept walking until he was standing next to the window of his old apartment. He peered around the frame to see inside. The walls were covered with in-process drywall work like the others, except here, two ladders sat in the center of the room near a well-used drop cloth, a two-wheeled paint sprayer, and four paint buckets. The edges of the kitchen cabinets next to the wall were covered with blue masking tape.
“That figures,” he said.
“What?”
“Painters. Working on my place right now.”
“Do you see anyone?”
He scanned the interior, looking for signs of movement or recent work. “Must have the day off.”
“Try the door.”
He did. The knob turned and the door opened. He walked inside with Masago.
“This doesn’t look so bad,” she said, tilting her head. “Kind of cute.”
“You should have seen it before. Of course, we didn’t always take good care of the place, either.”
“Who was the slob? You or Drew? Or both?”
“Definitely me. Drew was totally anal and obsesse
d with neatness. Everything had to be just so, or else he couldn’t function. He’d scoot around in his chair, picking up after me.”
“Must be nice. Your own personal maid.”
“It wasn’t like that. We each had our household duties. That was his. Mine was everything else. So it all balanced out in the end.”
She stared at him, but kept her mouth closed.
“Really, I’m not that bad.”
She still didn’t respond.
Lucas didn’t know what else to say. Either she believed him or she didn’t. Not much else he could do. He followed the footprints in the floor dust that led around the ladders and through the paint buckets, making his way to the kitchen. He let go of Masago’s hand and stood in the opening where the fridge used to be.
“Brings back a lot of memories,” he said, feeling a swell of emotions building in his throat.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, just seems like a lifetime ago when I lived here with my brother. Shit, if I’d only known. I could have stopped it and he’d still be alive.”
She rubbed his back and shoulders but didn’t say anything.
Lucas decided to open the cabinet door on his left and look inside. He wasn’t searching for anything in particular, it just felt like the thing to do. The cabinet was empty except for a used wrapper from a straw and some lingering drywall dust.
He checked the drawer below it. It had a smattering of miscellaneous items: rubber bands, paper clips, chewed pencils, a nearly empty roll of tape, two empty key rings, a nine-volt battery, a layer of cookie crumbs, and a loose collection of coins—a dollar twenty-seven, to be exact.
“Looks like we left in a hurry. There’s no way Drew would’ve left cash lying around.” He thumbed through the junk and picked the coins up, putting them in his pocket.
Masago pinched her eyebrows. “You’re just going to take the money?”
“Why not? Technically, it belongs to me. No way I’m leaving it for the painters.”
He walked to the center of the family room and craned his neck to look at the ceiling. He pointed at the smooth surface above him. “See that?”
“See what? There’s nothing there.”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Huh?”
“There should be a bunch of dents from the end of a broom handle. It’s how we signaled Trevor to come down for a visit. This just isn’t home anymore.”
Reversion (The Narrows of Time Series Book 3) Page 19