Weston grimaced. “What?”
“I know this’ll be hard to believe. That’s why I wanted you to see the thing yourself before I tried to explain. You know Dr. Tyler? He invented this and implanted it in you.” Evan decided it best for now to leave out the part that Weston was actually the second—and only surviving—recipient.
“Why?”
“It’s a transmitter. One-way for sure, possibly two-way. The idea was to download information to your brain so they could get more work out of you. There’s more, but right now we need to get you out of here. I don’t want to run into Tyler.” He tucked the device into his pocket for safekeeping.
Weston didn’t resist when he helped him up. Despite being short-acting, the Ketamine’s effects hadn’t yet all worn off. Evan secured Weston with an arm around his waist and turned toward the door, just as it burst open.
CHAPTER 51
The subtle hum of Mark’s computer magnified the stillness in the room, the agonizing suspense. Sheila glanced around, desperate for something to make her wait seem less interminable, but the room was strictly utilitarian. Mark had removed all distractions since he started with OneMarket. He’d taken down the framed photographs of them and their friends; he’d even put away all his biking medals and ribbons. Technical manuals had crowded out the novels on the bookshelves. His desk held work papers, a computer, a phone and a clock. Nothing more.
Sheila sat rigid in the chair, staring at the phone, willing it to ring. She prayed it would be Mark’s voice on the other end when it did. Hearing Reyes’ voice would confirm her fears that Mark was in some sort of danger. When the phone finally did ring, she winced and grabbed the receiver like a lifeline. “Hello?”
“Hey, did you ever get hold of Mark?” asked Molly.
“Shit!”
“What’s the matter?” Molly’s voice shifted from breezy to concerned.
“I don’t want to tie up the phone. I’m waiting for someone to call.” Sheila told Molly what happened in the minimum words possible.
“Oh, God. Do you want me to come over?”
Sheila pressed her hand to her eyes and again tried not to cry. Everything was closing in on her, and she felt impotent. She glanced at the clock. It had only been four minutes since she’d spoken to Reyes. As long as those minutes had been, she knew it was unreasonable to expect a callback quite that quickly. “I don’t know what you can do. I don’t know what I can do.”
“I’m coming over.”
“No, no. There’s really nothing you can do. It hasn’t been that long since I hung up. He’ll call back soon, I’m sure.” As soon as she uttered the words, Sheila realized how unconvincing she must sound.
“Even if I can’t do anything, I can be there with you. I’m sure there’ll be a good explanation for this, but you shouldn’t be alone in the meantime.”
“No, really—”
“’Bye.” Molly hung up quickly, avoiding further argument.
Sheila put down the receiver and looked at the clock again. Only one more minute had passed. She groaned and leaned back in the chair.
Alarmed by the beaten tone in Sheila’s voice, Molly wasted no time in getting on her way. As she challenged the speed limit in the deepening twilight, she realized she’d come to hate a disease just like a personal enemy. It wasn’t enough what it had done to Dad. It wasn’t enough that it had turned her sister, the strongest woman she knew, into someone who saw Alzheimer’s in every shadow. But its aftermath had also driven Mark to take that goddamned job at OneMarket.
They’d suckered in someone who never quit, never gave up, and now they were working him to death. And he was letting them do it. Letting their demands come first, tearing apart his relationship with Sheila. She’d seen the change in her in these last months. Her Alzheimer’s terror had become coated with a brittle shell of bitterness and isolation from the emotional distance between her and Mark.
She’d seen enough, and stood by too long. It was time to intervene, even if Sheila claimed to want no help. Together, they’d get to the bottom of this tonight, no matter what. Her tires squealed as she took a turn a little too fast.
CHAPTER 52
Tyler shut the conference door slowly, deliberately, his movements contrasting with the tight look of fury on his face. He looked like rage threatened to burst from him in palpable form. He addressed Evan in a voice seething with menace. “What are you doing with him?”
Realizing he was trapped in the one-door room with no means of retreat, Evan stalled. “How did you find us?”
“Guy in the next cube saw you head this way.” He eyed Weston. “What have you done to him?”
Evan licked his suddenly parched lips and tightened his grip on Weston. He’d expected Tyler to notice something on his monitors and try to find them, but he’d hoped to have a little more time than this. He knew it was risky removing the implant on site, but he could come up with no story that would have convinced Weston to go elsewhere with him willingly.
If only Tyler had taken just a few more minutes to find them—then the Ketamine would have fully worn off. As it was, it was obvious he’d administered something, so bluffing wasn’t an option. He muttered to Weston to keep quiet.
Tyler approached, his clenched jaws barely opening enough to release his words. “You’ve removed it, haven’t you?”
Evan took a step back with Weston. Whatever else he thought of him, he hadn’t taken Tyler for a violent man. Now he wasn’t so sure. He looked so charged with adrenaline, he was probably capable of anything. Evan sought a way out. The room was small, crowded with chairs and the conference table. There was no clear shot that wasn’t perilously close to Tyler—and with Weston still under the influence of the Ketamine, they wouldn’t make an agile pair.
Tyler closed in, shaking with fury. He pointed at Evan, his finger stabbing at the air as he spoke. “How dare you interfere? You’re done. You’re done, you useless old failure. Harris won’t tolerate what you did.” He held out his hand. “Where is it? Give it to me.”
Evan steadied Weston against the wall, then reached into his pocket, apparently fumbling around to find the device. He’d assumed he might fail to inject Weston with the Ketamine in one try, and was glad of it now. He slipped his fingers around the second syringe in his pocket, removed the cap, then grabbed Tyler’s outstretched hand. Knowing he had only one chance, he thrust the needle home into Tyler’s forearm.
Tyler shouted and tried to twist out of his grip, but it was too late. Evan had already emptied the syringe’s contents into the muscle.
He cast the syringe aside and hurried Weston out of the conference room without waiting to see the chemical take effect. He slammed the door behind them and hoped Tyler wasn’t resistant to the drug.
Weston turned to him, wide-eyed. “What—”
Evan shook his head and whispered, “Not now. Come with me.” Desperate to avoid attracting attention, he glanced up and down the aisle outside the conference room. Everyone was either heads-down working in their cubes or gone home for the day. Grateful for that much of a break, he hustled Weston to the elevator, hoping their luck would hold.
He punched the Down button, then covertly evaluated Weston’s condition as they waited. He’d recovered near-normal coordination, and judging by the questioning stare on his face, he’d regained normal consciousness, too. Evan quietly released his grip on Weston. If anyone did pass by, he didn’t want to give any cause for suspicion.
Seconds ticked by as they waited for the elevator. Evan wished it would open so they could move on. The cloak and dagger tension ate at his nerves. He didn’t know what he dreaded more: waiting in plain sight, or encountering someone in the elevator and getting into an unwanted conversation.
He suddenly nudged Weston to face the elevator doors directly. He turned as well and whispered, “Don’t look behind you. I just saw Reyes go by.”
“So what?”
“You’ll understand when I explain, I swear.” He gave the Down button a
nother jab.
The doors opened at last. Evan’s initial feeling of relief soured in his stomach when he saw two men already in the elevator. He stepped inside, praying Weston would cooperate and act normal. Fortunately, he followed him in and said nothing. Evan pressed the button for the main floor and scarcely breathed as the car began to descend.
The two men appeared to be together. They spoke to each other in low tones, seemingly making plans for an after-work beer. When the doors opened on the main floor, they were the first out, striding quickly toward the main exit, apparently eager to leave their workday behind.
Evan let out a held breath and started to get out.
Weston did not move.
“Where are you taking me? What the hell is going on?” The hard look in Weston’s eyes proved the Ketamine had surely worn off now.
“It’s complicated. I’ll tell you everything; I just want us to be in a safe, private place before I start. We can talk in your car or mine, whichever you’re comfortable with. Come on. There isn’t much time.” He had to fight the urge to pull Weston by the arm. He didn’t want to risk angering him and having him run off before he heard him out.
Evan stepped completely outside the elevator, but Weston held his ground. “Why should I trust you? What have you done to me?”
Before Evan could answer, Weston punched the button for another floor.
CHAPTER 53
Long enough. Sheila eyed the clock on Mark’s desk once more, certain that Reyes had blown her off. She’d heard the reluctance in his voice. He had no intention of checking on Mark. She’d just have to force the issue. Furious at being so helpless, she grabbed the phone and pressed the Redial button.
The phone rang once, twice. Sheila could feel her pulse pounding, preparing for a confrontation. How could she convince the bastard to go check on Mark?
The doorbell chimed, startling Sheila. “Damn it!” She slammed the receiver down and stood up so quickly she smacked the chair back against the wall.
She peered out the window at the top of the stairs and saw her sister’s Mini Cooper at the curb out front. She hadn’t been enthused about Molly coming over, but she knew there was no way to talk her out of it. Sometimes they were more alike than she wanted to admit.
Anxious to get hold of Reyes, Sheila hurried down the stairs. She opened the front door and there stood Molly in her typical all-purpose semi-hippie garb.
“You hear anything yet?”
“No, nothing. I’d just called Mark’s boss when you got here.”
“And?”
“Your timing was impeccable. I had to hang up to come to the door—he hadn’t picked up yet.”
“I’m sorry. Don’t let me stop you.”
Sheila rushed back upstairs to Mark’s office, with Molly hurrying silently behind her. She sat down and pulled the phone towards her, carefully aligning it with the edge of the desk. For some reason, she felt the need to have everything just so before making the call again. Molly’s arrival had disturbed her focus and she needed to get it back to be prepared to convince Reyes to do as she asked.
Molly perched on the edge of the desk and waited. Sheila snapped, “Quit staring. You’re making me nervous.”
“Sorry.” Molly stood up and moved a few steps away from the desk.
Sheila picked up the receiver and pressed Redial. She avoided Molly’s eyes as she listened to it ring on the other end. Once. Twice. Three times. Four times.
“Hello. You’ve reached the voicemail for Jeff Reyes. I can’t take your call right now, but if you leave a message after the tone, I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”
The greeting and the wait for the beep seemed endless as she struggled to prepare a message with just the right tone. “Hello, this is Sheila Weston. We spoke a little while ago. I still haven’t heard from Mark, and I’m very worried. I would appreciate it if you’d call me as soon as possible and let me know if you’ve seen him, or what’s going on.” She left her number and hung up. “Lying bastard!”
Molly approached the desk, a concerned look on her face. “He didn’t pick up?”
“No. Who knows if he even checked on Mark, or if he’s screening his calls now to avoid me!” Sheila stood and started pacing. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t reach anybody!”
Molly thought for a moment, then asked, “Do you know where the place is?”
“I’ve never been there, but yeah, I know where it is. Why?”
Molly dug in her purse, then waved her car keys at her sister. “We’re going there now. Little harder to blow you off if we’re there making a scene at the front desk. C’mon.” She started toward the hall, then looked behind her.
Sheila stopped pacing and stood, undecided. What if Reyes did call her back and she wasn’t here?
What if something horrible had happened to Mark?
Molly was right. If there was a problem, best to confront it face-to-face, rather than sitting here waiting for the phone to ring. “All right, let’s go.”
Jeff Reyes stood in Weston’s cube, wondering where to look for him next. His computer was still on, so he likely hadn’t left. But was he in the bathroom, the break room, or meeting with someone? No one in the adjacent cubes was still at work. He cursed himself for agreeing to check on him like some grade school kid. He had his own work to do, and wanted to get home himself.
He decided to check the break room, and if he wasn’t there, too bad. He’d be damned if he was going to spend precious time wandering the floor to find him.
Jeff strode briskly down the hall and ducked his head into the break room. No one was there. He’d just started to return to his own office when he heard pounding and a muffled shout. Startled, he turned to try to figure out where it was coming from. He heard it again. It sounded like it was coming from one of the conference rooms at the far end of the hall. He thought about calling Security, but then decided to check it out himself first. He’d look like a fool for calling if it was something trivial.
He passed several conference rooms—all with their doors open and their lights off—as he honed in on the sound. Then he saw one with the door shut. The pounding started again, and it was definitely coming from that room. He approached it cautiously and stood just outside the door.
“Help me!” The speech was slurred, making it hard to recognize the speaker.
“Weston?” Panicked that the wife’s call might have been legitimate, Jeff tried to push the door open, but something was blocking it. If something’s happened to Weston now… He leaned against the door and wedged himself for better leverage, then pushed again. Another slurred exclamation came from inside the room.
Determined, he braced himself and gave the door another shove, putting all his weight behind it. This time it gave just enough for him to squeeze through the opening and stumble inside. He looked down, stunned to see Tyler—not Weston—lying on the floor, still blocking the door. “Tyler? What happened?”
He turned toward Jeff with glassy eyes and muttered something unintelligible. He tried again, but was unable to form the words.
Jeff grabbed the phone and called the front desk. As he did so, Tyler became more agitated, trying to gesture to him to put down the phone.
“This is Jeff Reyes. Call 911, we have someone down. No, I don’t see any blood. Yes, he’s breathing, but he can’t speak clearly. It’s Dr. Tyler.” He gave the guard the location and hung up.
He remembered nothing from the first aid class he’d taken years ago, and had no idea what to do while they waited. “They’re sending help now.” Jeff hoped he sounded encouraging. He sat down to wait, and watched uncomfortably as Tyler kept struggling to tell him something. He hoped help came soon.
CHAPTER 54
Mark jabbed the elevator’s button as if his staccato bursts could convince the machine to obey him immediately. Everything was moving too quickly to comprehend, yet he felt like he was swimming through mud. All he wanted right now was to be alone to sit still and to try to grasp wha
t was going on.
The older doctor moved surprisingly fast to block the elevator doors with his body. “Please, come with me now! You need to know more.” He reached a trembling hand toward Mark.
Mark jammed the button in and held it for several seconds, his knuckles white, then let his hand fall to his side. Cleary wasn’t budging, so neither was the elevator. He had little choice but to go with him. Besides, if he resisted, he might drug him again. He decided to play along for now.
“All right. What do you have to tell me?”
Keeping his hold on the door, Cleary turned sideways for Mark to exit. “Step out of the elevator first, please, then let’s go to the clinic. There isn’t much time.”
Wary of another needle, Mark cautiously stepped out of the elevator and watched Cleary release the doors. As they shut, he felt cut off and threatened, but with what he did not know. In his appointments at the clinic, he’d had no sense of either doctor being capable of acting in the ways he’d just witnessed. He tensed, not knowing what to expect.
He flinched as the doctor touched his shoulder and guided him toward the clinic. They walked together quickly, without speaking. Moments later, Cleary ushered him through the clinic door. “This way to the rear exit. We can get out to the parking lot that way without being seen.”
“Who are you afraid will see us?” Mark still wasn’t sure who he should fear: Cleary or someone else.
“Right now? Anyone. You’ll understand soon enough. Your car or mine?”
“Mine.” Mark jumped at the opportunity to have some control over the situation, however token.
The clinic was deserted and looked almost forbidden in the dim after-hours light. They slipped out the back door unnoticed. “Which one’s your car?”
“Is this really necessary? Can’t we just talk here?” Mark started to doubt the wisdom of getting into a confined space with Cleary.
“Absolutely not. We’re right in a pool of light, and probably under a security camera, too. We have to move quickly.”
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