Something trickled down his neck. He was probably sweating like a pig. The tickling annoyed him, so he wiped it with his hand. The moisture felt warm and sticky, not like sweat. Shaking with fear, he followed the trail with his fingers. It was leaking from inside his ear! He yanked the covers away and examined his hand in the shadows. His fingers glistened with something dark.
With his dry hand, he reached up and pushed aside the curtain above his bed to shed some light on his hand. His fingers were smeared with bright red blood.
“Oh, shit! Oh, God!” Trembling, he reached for the phone on his nightstand to call 911.
Josh shut his office door behind him. His workspace felt like a refuge compared to the exam rooms. That last patient reminded him why he preferred research to actual clinical work. She wouldn’t shut up; she dragged what should have been a ten-minute visit into a half-hour pain in the ass. On the bright side, she was his last appointment for the day, and now he could concentrate on how to design his advanced monitoring program.
He sat down and rearranged the clutter on his desk so he’d have a clear space to work and think. He cracked his knuckles and tried to focus his mind on the task at hand. This would be a very challenging program design, and he wasn’t yet sure how best to begin. Might as well check the monitors he did have in place while he warmed to his task.
Josh turned to his computer and checked the monitor for Weston’s device. No looping, brain function looks within normal limits. Good. Then he checked Simmons’ device.
It’s looping again! He swore under his breath and quickly forced it to stop transmitting. Then he accessed the brain function monitor.
Nothing there.
He slammed his fist onto his desk. The monitor wasn’t yet capable of showing historical activity. All he could see was the current brain function on a real-time basis. So he couldn’t figure out when the monitor quit working, let alone when the device started looping.
He’d have to put aside his new design until he worked through these kinks. Josh knew if he didn’t get these solved, Simmons could be endangered, and that would torpedo the whole project.
He took a few deep breaths to quell his frustration. He needed to think clearly and analytically. Not emotionally. Not now.
Once he calmed down, he identified the critical points to address, and the order in which he’d resolve them. What triggered the looping, and why did the device stop monitoring the brain function? Once he addressed these, he’d add some sort of logging or history, so he could see what the brain was doing in more than just real-time mode. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of that before.
Josh Tyler settled in for another long night.
CHAPTER 33
Jeff glanced at the caller ID display on his office phone. Weston. He’d better still be on track with the Venezuela project.
Last time they’d spoken, he had been. Genesis helped Weston pull off a seemingly impossible turnaround. But Jeff knew better than to think the device could ward off all problems. Anything could pop up and throw a project off track—server downtime, illness—he’d seen it all.
“Hello, Mark.”
“Hello. I was just calling to see if you’ve heard from Terry today. I haven’t seen him yet, and he hasn’t answered my email. I tried him at home, but his voicemail picked up.”
Jeff kept his voice even, despite the unease creeping through his mind. “No, I haven’t, but I didn’t have anything specific scheduled with him today. Let me know if you still don’t see him in another hour. I’ll check around in the meantime. Thanks.”
As he hung up the phone, Jeff prayed it was all some communications mix-up, and that Simmons was just working off site. Just as soon as that thought passed through his head, he recognized it for the pure shit it was. Simmons knew the rules. Even if he was working at home or off site somewhere, he knew perfectly well he was required to answer his email. And Jeff had never known him to violate that rule.
Jeff couldn’t deny the sick feeling that just invaded the pit of his stomach. Something had happened to Simmons. He felt certain of it.
Just one more try. He picked up the phone and called Simmons at home. He could feel the sweat trickle under his armpits as the phone rang and rang with no answer. Then came Simmons’ voice, providing a second’s relief before he realized it was only the voicemail greeting. He hung up without leaving a message.
Jeff rubbed his forehead as he tried to think of what to do. He hadn’t wanted any part of this implant business, but he hadn’t dared to take a stand against it. Thinking back on the meeting where the decision had been made, he doubted he could have stopped it even if he’d mustered the nerve to protest it. There was no denying Harris when he wanted something. And he had that bitch attorney on his side. He hoped she had a plan in the event something went wrong.
This whole thing was Harris’ brainchild. He should drop it in his lap. He reached for the phone, then stopped. No. Better figure out what’s really going on first. He shook his head and phoned Tyler instead.
And got voicemail.
He punched the 0 button to get the clinic’s receptionist.
“Staff clinic. May I help you?” asked an airheaded voice.
Jeff fought to sound calm but urgent. “Yes, I’m trying to reach Dr. Tyler.”
“I can put you through to his extension.”
“No!” he interjected before she could send him off to voicemail hell. “No, I just called it, and got voicemail.”
“Oh. Did you leave a message?”
“No. I need to get hold of him right now. This is an urgent matter. I need you to get him.”
“Well, I think he may be in with a patient—”
Jeff spoke through gritted teeth. “This is truly urgent, or I wouldn’t ask you to interrupt him. Please, tell him Jeff Reyes is calling. Please get him on the phone now.”
The voice turned chilly. “I’ll see what I can do.” Jeff waited on hold, every second interminable.
He hoped he was wrong. He wasn’t even sure what he would say when he did get through to Tyler.
“Tyler here. What’s up?”
“I’m not sure. Simmons is missing.”
“You had me pulled out of an exam for this? I don’t deal with attendance issues; that’s your problem.”
Jeff made mental note of Tyler’s haughty tone for some other time. He chose his words carefully. “Look, he’s never had attendance issues. He hasn’t been seen or heard from today. This is not like him, and I have a bad feeling.”
A long pause ensued. The attitude wilted out of Tyler’s tone when he next spoke. “I see.” He cleared his throat. “Who else knows about this?”
“Weston brought it to my attention. I don’t know who else he was supposed to meet with today who may also be wondering.”
“Have you spoken with anyone else about this? Like Harris?”
“No. Just in case it is a false alarm, I didn’t want to involve him yet.”
“Good. Keep this quiet for now. There may still be some explanation.”
Now he sounds like he’s trying to convince himself. I guess that’s progress.
“I hope so. Right now, I’d like you to go out to his house and check on him. I’d go, but if he needs help, you’re a doctor. Call me as soon as you know something.”
“Will do.”
Jeff gave Tyler the address and hung up. He cancelled his next few meetings. He didn’t want to miss Tyler’s call, and he couldn’t concentrate on anything else anyway. Meanwhile, he stared at the clock and tried to cling to the hope that there was some benign explanation for Simmons’ absence.
Back in his office after rescheduling his patient, Josh quickly checked Simmons’ brain monitor. Still nothing. An unwelcome thought began to form, curling in the back of his mind like a venomous snake.
What if there was nothing wrong with the monitor? With the recurrence of the looping, it was possible that Simmons’ brain was now damaged. But no reading at all? Last night it had been reasona
ble to assume the problem was in the device or his program. But now, with Reyes’ phone call…
Josh entered Simmons’ address in the computer and printed the directions from the mapping software. He grabbed his medical bag and rushed out the clinic’s back door.
CHAPTER 34
Josh pulled up in front of the address Reyes had given him. He checked it twice against the black numbers beside the front door of the two-story Tudor house. He sure as hell didn’t want to knock on the wrong door.
He didn’t even want to knock on the right door.
Reyes’ call and the monitor’s behavior plagued Josh’s thoughts. No matter which way he turned the facts as he knew them, he could only conclude that something had gone horribly wrong. He wished he hadn’t let Reyes talk him into this errand before they’d thought through the possibilities.
Realizing he’d been idling the car while buried in thought, Josh shut off the engine. He glanced around, relieved to see that no one was out on the street, though that didn’t mean some nosy neighbor wasn’t peering at him through her curtains. But it being mid-morning on a weekday—and a dreary, overcast day at that—he stood a better than average chance of not being noticed. It didn’t hurt that his car, a late-model BMW 5-Series, fit in with the apparent income level of the neighborhood. Still, he didn’t want to push his luck. He decided to leave his medical bag in the trunk for now.
Josh got out of the car and strode up to Simmons’ front door. He tried to peer inside, but the small stained-glass window only allowed a distorted view of the entryway. He cast a furtive glance back toward the street to see if anyone had come out and noticed him. Josh rang the doorbell, not bothering to make up a story for Simmons.
He rang the bell again and knocked, then waited several minutes. Not a sound from inside the house. He tried the door, just in case, but it was locked. The garage door was closed, but there was a small window on its side wall. He walked over and looked inside. He was able to make out a car in the murky light.
Feeling like a prowler, he made a quick circuit of the windows on the lower level. No one in what appeared to be the living room. Same story for the office. The kitchen also looked deserted. He let himself into the back yard through the unlocked gate and stood against the rear wall of the house. The yard was very private, with mature trees lined up inside the wooden fence. A trellised gazebo sheltered a hot tub in the center of the well-tended lawn. He flipped open his cell phone to call Reyes.
“Reyes here.”
“It’s Josh,” he said in a hushed voice.
“What’s going on?”
“Well, he seems to be here. His car’s here, anyway. But he doesn’t answer the door.”
A pause. “Shit. Where are you now?”
“In the back yard. Figured I’m less likely to be noticed than if I stand around the front or sit in the car.”
“Stay there. I’m going to conference in Harris.”
The line clicked.
As he waited, Josh fidgeted and considered the ramifications. If Simmons was in there incapacitated—or worse—he needed to know if it had anything to do with Genesis. He could simply have slipped in the bathtub and cracked his skull for all he knew.
The line clicked again, interrupting his thoughts. “Josh? You there? I have Harris on the line now,” said Reyes.
“I’m here.”
“So no one’s seen Simmons today, and he appears to be home but not responding, is that it?” asked Harris.
“That’s it. Josh is at the house now,” said Reyes.
“Can you get in?” asked Harris.
“Not without breaking in. It’s locked.”
“Well, we need to get you in. If he’s in there and can’t answer the door…I can send someone from Security to get the door open for you,” said Harris.
Reyes cleared his throat. “Um, what if he’s…”
No one spoke for a couple of moments, then Harris broke the silence. “Then your sole purpose is to remove the device and get it off the premises. Disturb nothing; leave no trace of your presence.”
“I’d have to make an incision.”
“Understood. Make it look like an injury, not surgical. Just get the damned thing out of there. To be safe, I’ll send Victor, my head of Security. He can be trusted to keep his mouth shut. Even so, I’ll give him minimal information and instruct him to remain outside. Far as he’ll know, you’re just checking on one of our employees. Don’t even use Simmons’ name.”
“If he’s…dead, I’ll need to know the cause, if it has anything to do with the device,” said Josh. “I have the facilities at my lab to perform an autopsy.”
Harris reacted immediately. “No way. Too risky. Get the device and get out. Understood?”
“Yeah,” Josh mumbled. Harris had a point. How would he transport the body for autopsy anyway, and what would he do with it afterwards?
“That’s it, then. I’ll get Victor over there as soon as possible. Stay put until then,” said Harris.
Josh closed his cell, slipped it back into its belt clip. He decided to head back to his car after all, since he’d have to get his medical bag out of the trunk anyway. He peeked over the fence before opening the gate and coming out. Still no one around. He hoped his luck held on that front.
He got into his car and sat low in the seat, hoping to remain inconspicuous. Josh figured it had been about a fifteen to twenty-minute drive from OneMarket to Simmons’ house. So even if Victor had been dispatched immediately—which he doubted—he had some time to kill. He didn’t relish the idea of sitting in his car like some stalker all that time, so he decided to drive about halfway back to OneMarket, then turn around.
Josh returned to Simmons’ house after his time-killing loop drive. No one had yet arrived, so he overshot the house and drove a couple more miles through the neighborhood before doubling back and parking again. As he shut off the engine, he hoped Harris hadn’t been delayed in sending the guy out.
He was just about to reach for his cell again when an unmarked car pulled up behind him. His stomach dropped when he realized he had no idea what this Victor looked like. Was that even a OneMarket car behind him, or did someone call neighborhood security? He struggled to pull together a story in case it was the latter.
A tall, well-built man in a dark suit got out of the car and walked toward him without hesitation. Josh rolled down his window and hoped it was Victor. “Hello?”
“Hello, Dr. Tyler. I’m Victor. You ready?”
Josh opened and closed his mouth in surprise. “How did you…?”
Victor smiled, revealing teeth that were a little too perfect to have been original. “I looked up your photograph and checked your car records before I came.”
“Oh,” said Josh, flustered. “Well, I need to get in the house.”
“Won’t be a problem.” Victor stepped back to make room for Josh to get out of the car.
“I need to get my bag.” Josh got out, opened the trunk and retrieved his medical bag.
They walked up to the front door and Josh waited while Victor reached into his pocket for a small electronic device, which he switched on and held against the door. He swung open the door and said, “There you go. I’ll wait in my car. Let me know when you’re done, or if you need anything.”
“Sure, thanks. How’d you…”
“OneMarket installed the security system. Comes in handy in emergencies.”
“Ah, sure.” Josh nodded and decided to keep that bit of information for future reference.
As Victor headed back to his car, Josh refocused on the situation with Simmons. He shut the door, then stopped to make sure he wouldn’t leave traces behind. He checked the soles of his shoes. Clean. He set down his bag, took out a pair of surgical gloves, and put them on. Then, feeling like the intruder he was, he started to make his way through the silent house.
First he re-checked the rooms on the ground floor as a sort of warm up. He felt like he’d already invaded them when he’d peered through the
windows earlier. Then he took a deep breath before intruding more deeply. He started up the stairs, calling out just to make sure he didn’t startle Simmons.
No answer.
Once upstairs, he first passed what appeared to be a guest bedroom and bathroom. Both unoccupied—they didn’t even look lived in. The master bedroom appeared to be at the far end of the upper floor. He made his way toward it, forcing himself to take each step forward. He’d seen corpses before, but always in a sterile, controlled environment. Never like this—and certainly not under the slippery legal circumstances he found himself in now.
He stood before the master bedroom door. He knocked softly, more from force of habit than in any real expectation of a returned greeting. He slowly pushed it open with his gloved hand.
All but one of the curtains were drawn; the room lay mostly in shadow. Someone was in the bed. Or more correctly, half in and half out of the bed. Josh approached, careful not to disturb anything in his path.
Simmons lay fully-clothed on the left side of the bed, covers tangled around him as if he had a severe seizure before dying. His upper torso was draped over the side of the bed as if he had been reaching for the phone. His face was frozen in a grimace that left no doubt that his death had been agonizing. There was some blood on his hand and on the carpeted floor. Josh drew closer to check its source.
Taking care not to step in any of the blood, he bent down and examined the corpse as best he could without disturbing anything. The blood appeared to have welled up from inside Simmons’ ears and trickled down across his jaw and under his neck. The blood on his fingers may have been from him touching the flow or trying to stem it. Josh didn’t like it—bleeding from the ears like that smacked of catastrophic brain damage.
He set his bag down, away from the blood spatters, and took out a scalpel, a tweezers and a gauze square. There would be no bleeding from the incision, which would make it more difficult to make it look like an injury. He quickly located where the device had been implanted, made a small cut, and carefully extracted it with the tweezers. He folded it into the gauze square, then tore the incision a little with the tweezers to make the wound edges rougher, less precise. He then put everything back in his bag.
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