Trifecta

by Pam Richter

  "I'll try to talk to Ferd. He'll know what to do. In the meantime, try to keep busy. Read and watch television. I have a roast in the refrigerator. Maybe you could try and cook it for dinner. And Eve, if you get scared, call me at my shop and I'll come and stay with you." She gave Eve the number and then hung up.

  Mark walked into the bedroom toweling his hair and looked at her. "What's wrong?"

  "It's urgent that I talk to Ferd. Eve's getting my memories. At the same time, she seems to be obtaining my complete emotional life." Sabrina recounted some of the conversation, but didn’t mention that Eve had probably realized she was madly in love with Mark by this time.

  Mark telephoned Cedar Sinai Hospital and was on the phone for a long time. He explained it was an emergency that he get in touch with Dr. Steinbrenner.

  A few minutes later the phone rang and Mark pounced on it.

  "Hello. Is Sabrina Miller there?"

  Sabrina took the receiver. "Hello. Is this Ferd?"

  "Yes, dear. And how are you?"

  "I'm fine. But I'm worried about Eve. I mean the computer. We call her Eve."

  "That's very appropriate. I like it. But why are you worried, dear?"

  Sabrina was taken off guard. It was almost like hearing from a much loved uncle, or a grandfather with the wisdom and patience of a long life view. She was surprised because she had been indignant that he had used her in a scientific experiment without her consent.

  Sabrina took a deep breath. "We're keeping her safe for you. We got her lots of syrup and honey and jam for the necessary calories. But I'm not with her now and I just talked to Eve on the phone. She's getting my memories."

  "Long-term or short-term, Sabrina?"

  "Pardon?"

  Mark had disappeared into the living room and Sabrina heard him pick up the extension so he could listen.

  "Long term memories are those from your childhood. There is a chemical process that stores memories and then turns them into those you can remember from the past. The short-term memories are things that have happened to you quite recently. Some are so inconsequential that they are not stored. Eve would never forget them, but you would not have access to them yourself. Do you understand, Sabrina?"

  "I think so. Eve seems to have both. Strong emotions are coming with the memories. She says it's uncomfortable, but I think she's scared and may become overwhelmed."

  "I didn't expect this to happen so soon." Ferd sounded thoughtful. "But it makes sense. The electrical currents in your brain have certain patterns, Sabrina. These patterns, or memories and thoughts, even emotions, tend to be repeated. So the computer is repeating the same electrical brain pathways you have. But I am sorry for your inconvenience, and want to thank you for taking care of...Eve."

  "Why did you pick me?" Sabrina couldn't help asking.

  "You are in excellent physical condition. I took blood samples. All your organs are perfect. You are also very beautiful, and I thought that one so gifted with beauty would have had a rather, let's say, happy and uneventful life."

  "I was an orphan who never had a family. No one wanted me."

  "I'm so sorry, dear," Ferd said.

  "That's okay. But those are some of the old emotions Eve is obtaining from my brain."

  "The doctor is making a cut-off signal. He would only give me five minutes."

  What should we do?"

  "I'll call Eve, tell her what to expect."

  "Yes, please do." Sabrina gave Ferd her home phone number.

  "Good-bye Sabrina. Thank you for taking care of Eve."

  "Wait! Your sons are trying to kill me," Sabrina said into the phone, but Ferd had already hung up. All she heard was the buzzing dial tone.

  Mark put down the telephone receiver thoughtfully. He had heard an uncharacteristic desolate flatness in Sabrina's voice when she said she was an orphan that no one wanted. He had known the fact, but never thought it affected her deeply. Now he wanted to go and hug Sabrina, take away all the ancient pain, but it would be exactly the wrong thing to do. If he acted sticky and sentimental she would certainly know why, and pull away from him more than she had been lately.

  Mark went into the bedroom. "I'll take you to work. Tonight, I'll pick you up and go home with you. I don't want you alone with Eve. Not ever."

  "That's nonsense," Sabrina said, as they walked outside to his car.

  "I'm not so sure. What if Eve likes your life and wants to take it over. She has no morals and might kill you. I don't want to scare you, but she could be very dangerous."

  Sabrina sat in silence, glancing at Mark's intent profile as he drove swiftly through the morning rush hour traffic in Los Angeles. Men were used to being much stronger than women, physically. Women were always the weaker sex to them. Now there was a woman who could twist knobs off of doors, break legs with a kick, and not even hurt her little toe. Eve was strong enough to do whatever she wanted to, and Mark could not stop her. He could not protect her, or even himself, if Eve set out to harm either one of them.

  * * * * *

  As Sabrina and Mark were setting off to work, Sato Hashimoto was just cruising over the clouds of Los Angeles. The seat belt signal went on, as the flight was to land within ten minutes, but Sato did not observe the sign and snapped his fingers at the blond who had been serving the first class section of the airliner. She told him that she could not serve any more refreshments and he handed her a hundred dollar bill. She returned rapidly with a neat double scotch.

  Hashimoto sipped the drink out of the disgusting plastic cup and shuddered, thinking that everything was better in Japan. Even the scotch. That he had to be in this heathenish, hedonistic city of Los Angeles was an abomination.

  Worse, was the thought that he might have to work with two lawyers whom he personally thought witless and without manners or honor. He had decided to circumvent them and take matters into his own hands.

  He had first read the U.S. Intelligence report that corroborated that there might indeed be a person with a computer implanted in his brain just yesterday. If that were really so, then this vile trip would be worth his trouble.

  The fact that Hashimoto had spent a cool half million for the information did not mean that the document Willard Modert had provided was authentic, although it looked like a real photocopy of a top secret document. One could never trust corrupt people, like the nondescript fellow who was a personal aid to the man in charge of the investigation, Burgess Whitcomb. But the supposed allegations of new computer technology, although almost unbelievable, might possibly be true, and Hashimoto was thankful that there were people who could be bought almost anywhere.

  America was a particularly corrupt place and its people could see no further ahead than their noses. Obviously, most Americans were contemptible, greedy people only interested in profit and easy money. They had no sense of tradition or thoughts of providing for future generations. That was stupendously apparent by their behavior. They were selling their own country for cash.

  Hashimoto trickled more scotch down his throat. Oh yes, the Americans were quite stupid. But in one case there was no stupidity. The report had indicated that the man who had conceived and implemented the new computer technology was a medical doctor with several Ph.d.'s. It was surprising that the doctor's sons were such idiots.

  Hashimoto had not given much credence when Alexander Steinbrenner had called him, blathering on about a computer now actually imbedded within a person's brain. But it was such a novel idea that Sato had given his staff a go-ahead to make an inquiry. He had learned that there was indeed an ongoing and very secret investigation involving people high up in the Central Intelligence Agency. He had to bribe quite a few people to get that information, but the breakthrough had been Willard Modert. He had used the man before. Modert was the new modern entrepreneur, planted within the CIA years ago by the KGB and directing operatives from within that agency.

  Hashimoto knew that the Soviets would be trying to grab the new technology for themselves. Modert had probably gamb
led on selling him the information just for profit, thinking that his operatives were so far ahead that Hashimoto would be left in their dust, minus the half million.

  Thus, Hashimoto acted quickly so that he could circumvent the intervention of the two lawyers and the Soviets.

  It sounded like Alexander Steinbrenner was actually willing to sell his father's computer, incredible as that sounded. Hashimoto hoped that Dr. Steinbrenner would be willing to sell the components and technology. It would be a shame to have to kill the first live computer to obtain the tiny computer chip to see how it operated.

  Hashimoto knew he would have to be careful in negotiating because Dr. Steinbrenner evidently had a serious heart condition. But it was very fortunate indeed that he was in a hospital, in a bed he could not presumably leave.

  The first of Hashimoto's staff to arrive in Los Angeles was a group of spies, called Ronin no Zaibatsu. They had already begun surveillance on Dr. Steinbrenner, his sons, and a new person in the American investigation, Sabrina Miller.

  Hashimoto had no doubt he would win the race for this new technology. The Ronin are recognized as the best spies in the world. Even better than the American CIA or the Soviet KGB. In modern Japan, even today, the Ronin are called Outlaw Knights. He had picked them from the outcasts and members of Bunraku-Min, or untouchables of mixed parentage.

  As Hashimoto prepared to deplane, his Ronin were taking pictures of Sabrina and Mark on the way to work. The Ronin were noticing the CIA agents in another car, obviously following Sabrina Miller and Mark Ponti.

  CHAPTER 7

  Stephan and Alexander Steinbrenner were awakened at the godawful hour of six a.m. An obnoxiously cheerful nurse opened the drapes to stunning sunshine and told them to rise and shine. The blinding light felt like the sun was drilling directly into their brains. The nurse left smiling cheerfully.

  After she had gone, Alexander pulled the pillow off of his head and muttered to his brother, who was blinking stupidly in the sudden light, "We are in hell."

  Both burly men were still in bad-ass moods after barely three hours of sleep and having had uncomfortable bouts of trying to turn over with casts on their legs. Of course, it was worse for Stephan because he could not move with both of his legs broken. He had wrenched a back muscle while attempting to turn over during sound sleep. Even more demeaning, both men had had to use bed pans, as they had virtually no independent mobility.

  "Hell," Stephan agreed, nodding miserably.

  "We're supposed to be at that deposition in a couple of hours. We can postpone it. Get the sympathy vote, anyway, when we go in with casts and crutches."

  "I won't be on crutches. I'll be riding a goddamn wheel chair," Stephan snarled angrily. It was normal for him to wake up cranky, and as the picture materialized of future months with him immobilized in a chair, he got into a totally despairing, crushing mind set. After all, he had been leading his new girl to the date this Friday night. She would have finally succumbed. It was a no-miss situation, and he just bet that fucking with two broken legs would be impossible.

  A skinny man dressed in a white lab coat, pushing a shiny metal dolly, came into the room without knocking, surprising the brothers. The tray on top had a plethora of nasty, sharp looking instruments and some skinny rubber tubes.

  "I'm your nurse, Teddy," the emaciated man said.

  "What's all that stuff?" Alexander said, eyeing the tray with suspicion. "Torture implements?"

  Stephen looked at the man and decided the guy was not going to touch him. The 'nurse' was skinny enough to have some kind of nasty, filthy disease.

  Teddy smiled at Alexander and said, "Only your basic injections for infections." He laughed merrily at his own rhyme.

  "Just you wait a minute. I want to see my doctor. I don't need any injections," Alexander objected.

  "Scared of a little pin prick?" Teddy smirked.

  "What are the rubber tube things for?" Stephan asked.

  "Expanding the veins. We wrap them around the arm to help locate them. But your's won't need popping. You work out with weights?"

  As he was talking the nurse was moving rapidly, picking up a syringe, taking off the cellophane covering, and tapping it lightly with a finger. He quickly moved to Stephan, who was in the near bed, totally immobile, and picked up his arm. The needle was in the vein in a second.

  "See? Doesn't hurt a bit."

  Stephan's credo was, when in doubt be macho, so he said, "Sure," and tried not to wince as the liquid went into the vein, but he couldn't watch and averted his gaze. The second shot stung but he didn't utter a word. Alexander, seeing his brother take the shots, decided protesting would appear wimpy.

  Teddy was a talkative type and while he gave Alexander his shots, he said, "You two got special treatment. Guard outside your door and everything."

  "Yeah. Real special," Alexander said sarcastically as the injection struck home painfully. He wondered what was going on. A guard? The guy must be mistaken.

  When Teddy left with a smile and "Ta, ta," both men bravely told the other that they hadn't felt a thing.

  The breakfast experience wasn't much better. An orderly came in, again without a knock, adjusted trays over the beds and cheerfully presented sticky oatmeal, watery fruit cocktail and cold toast with hard pats of butter to tatter it.

  Next, the doctor came in, and with the embarrassing help of two nurses, got Alexander into a standing position so he could be measured for crutches. It was bad enough wearing the smocks that they gave patients to sleep in, which were totally open in the back. Now Alexander was sure that the nurses got a good shot of his backside when they helped him out of bed. The whole hospital experience was humiliating beyond belief.

  Stephan was given a pamphlet showing different styles of wheel chairs. He insisted on a motorized chair designed like a miniature golf cart. The doctor protested that Stephan might like to get upper-body exercise from a manual type chair, since he would be sitting for a few months, but Stephan wanted the expensive job and insisted on it.

  Just as Stephan and Alexander were finally lying back and dozing a young, pimply, lank haired, gum popping, Candy Striper, came in with a trolley and presented reading material. The brothers rolled their eyes at each other. The goddamn people in this place were so fucking cheerful. Both men picked some magazines, just to get rid of the nuisance of having the girl chatter at them. They tried to doze again, but the noise from the corridors kept them awake, so finally Alexander turned on the television and Stephan picked up one of the magazines. It was 7:30 a.m. and both men were exhausted.

  "I can't take much more of this." Stephan was flipping the pages of a magazine.

  "Me neither," Alexander said, concentrating on the news.

  "Goddamn woman's magazine," Stephan said. "And an old one, at that." He threw it on the floor and picked up another used magazine. He flipped pages and then stopped, transfixed on one of the advertisements. "We got her!" Stephan said excitedly.

  "Who?"

  "The girl the computer was cloned to. Look," Stephan said, and held out the decrepit magazine. "She's a model."

  "I can't see," Alex complained. "Throw it over."

  Stephan rolled up the magazine and threw it. The pages flew open and it landed on the floor. Neither man could reach the magazine, so they rang repeatedly for the nurse.

  "Fuck. When you don't want 'em they come in, and when you do, they won't," Alexander said peevishly.

  When they finally got the slow moving nurse in the room and she had the magazine, they insisted she show Alexander a picture of a car with a girl walking by it.

  The girl was pretty if you like the emaciated look, the chubby nurse thought to herself, but she wondered what the nasty lawyers were so excited about.

  When the nurse left she heard one of the men calling the editorial staff of the magazine, impatiently asking who the girl was. The nurse walked past the guard on the way out of the room. Maybe the police were afraid the creeps would be murdered by the same person who had
broken their legs.

  Alexander went through a dozen phone calls. He finally got the advertising department for the magazine. Then he got hold of the Pontiac headquarters back East and found out who did their advertising layouts three years ago and called the firm. He finally had the modeling agency. The agency proved reluctant to tell Alexander the name of the women, until he told them that he was a designer and wanted to use her in some fashion advertisements. They said that they would be glad to send over several of their wonderful models. They did not know if Sabrina Miller would be available, but they would try to find out.

  Alexander wrote down the name and then began buzzing the nurse for a telephone book.

  "Did you hear that? Great way to meet girls!" Alexander enthused, explaining what had transpired over the phone.

  "Sure," Stephan said moodily. "We get the perfect scheme to meet women, and I have two broken legs."

  "We could get them up to the office," Alexander went on excitedly, "for interviews. Get numbers. Tell them we'll call when we make a choice. If we do it right, we'll have dates for years."

  "You really are a shit," Stephan commented.

  "Oh, hell. What's the matter with you, anyway?" Alexander asked. He thought that Stephan was a little morbid in his depression this morning.

  "Nothing."

  The nurse came in and was ordered to get a phone book. She took her sweet time, but Alexander found Sabrina Miller right away.

  Then Stephan, in his usual pessimistic style, went into a monologue. "It might be difficult to obtain the computer. If she doesn't want to go with us, even if she's been programmed to obey, she could do much more physical damage to us. We can't risk a gun. A gun might really kill her, even if she is supposed to have regenerating abilities."

  Alexander was finally absorbing Stephan's mood. Another problem was telling the two women apart. Ferd said they looked exactly alike, so what if they took the wrong one? Not that it mattered much. They planned to kill the girl anyway, so that computer could take her place. Then no one would ever suspect that the woman was really a computer and they could get on with their numerous and profitable schemes. After that they would sell her to the highest bidder. Their friend in Defense, whom Alexander had talked to about possible uses for the computer, had been very interested. Let them bid against Hashimoto, one of the wealthiest men in the world.