by Pam Richter
"Now listen here," Stephan said. "My father's in the hospital. I have to take care of his interests."
"Where?" Hashimoto asked, ignoring Stephan.
"Right here," the controller said, pointing.
"All we have to do is mark that out and have Stephan Steinbrenner initial it."
"Now you wait a minute," Stephan said furiously. If he could have risen in protest from his wheelchair he would have done so.
"Did you know about this clause, Ms. Miller?" Hashimoto asked Sabrina.
Sabrina shook her head.
"What are your plans for the money?" Hashimoto asked.
"To live on and to buy a car," Sabrina said very softly, hoping she sounded stupid.
"What kind?"
"A small Mercedes."
"Why not a Japanese car? We make some of the finest cars in the world. A beautiful Lexus for instance?"
"A Lexus would look stupid in red," Eve commented. She had her heart set on a small red sports car.
"You're right," Hashimoto said with a smile that never got near his eyes.
"We're getting way off track here," Stephan protested.
"Yes. We have to get that clause out of the transfer account," Hashimoto said calmly.
Sabrina wondered why Hashimoto was acting in their behalf and practically steam-rolling over the Steinbrenner brothers, with whom he had begun negotiations. If he wanted Eve to work for him he would be able to pay her less if he thought her destitute. It would not help in his negotiations later with the Steinbrenner brothers when they asked for their finders fee either. It seemed like he was trying to help her and Eve, but Sabrina still thought he was not to be trusted. He seemed implacable as a lava flow. Hashimoto must have something awful, even sinister, planned for Eve.
Hashimoto took a thick marker pen out of his briefcase and blackened the offending clause himself. "Now, if you would be so kind as to initial this, perhaps we can get on with the meeting?"
Stephan initialed the document and it passed its way down the table to Sabrina, who tucked it into her purse.
"Now that that is settled, I need proof that Ms. Eve Miller's brain does consist, partially, of a computer," Hashimoto said.
"My father believes that the computer... Eve Miller, is the most intelligent person alive today. She is also abnormally strong and has the ability to heal herself. We also believe, from what he says, that she does not feel pain."
"You believe. You think. You have heard," Hashimoto said very contemptuously. "I want hard evidence that I have not come here, all this way from Japan and my business, on some...wild goose chase."
"She can remember anything she reads and can recite it back verbatim."
"You are making allegations, but there is no proof. Before we go any further, I want my doctor here to perform a CAT scan on Eve Miller's brain."
The doctor in the group nodded and spoke some words to Hashimoto in Japanese, very quietly.
"That would be satisfactory," Alexander said. "We want you to know you have a genuine genius. My brother and I have been in on our father's experiments from the very beginning. We are totally convinced that Ms. Miller contains a computer."
"Excuse me for interrupting," Eve said, "but what you say is not true, Alexander. There never was a computer. I'm sure your father will tell Mr. Hashimoto, when he's feeling better. If you look at Eve," Eve said turning to Sabrina, "you can see that she has never had any kind of surgery. I'm sure your doctor could ascertain that for himself, right now."
There was an explosion of angry sounding Japanese and then the doctor turned to Sabrina. "Would you object to a superficial examination?"
"Not at all."
"Wait a minute," Alexander protested. "The computer was implanted, and then it was made to look like Sabrina Miller."
Hashimoto looked at Alexander as though he had utterly lost his mind. "Do you object?"
"No. But your doctor won't find anything because the form you see now is not the form the computer was implanted into."
"Some sort of magical metamorphosis?" Hashimoto inquired politely.
Sabrina knew that Alexander did not want to admit that he had obtained a baby for an experiment. Hashimoto already knew he had provided Eve with illegal documentation.
The doctor got up and walked over to where Sabrina was sitting. "I will be looking for evidence of surgery."
Sabrina nodded and the doctor put his head uncomfortably close to her's and started meticulously parting her hair every inch or so, inspecting the scalp. It felt like he was grooming her for insects, like one of the primates who practiced such behaviors. He looked under the hair at the back of her head and checked thoroughly behind her ears. He diligently tried to fix her hair style after he finished.
The doctor then inspected Eve and pronounced, "No surgery on either of the women."
There was a burst of Japanese, all of Hashimoto's staff talking very fast. It only lasted for a couple of minutes, but they all looked seriously upset and indignant.
"Gentlemen. Gentlemen," Alexander said, and they quieted down and regarded him with frowns. "I told you that there would be no evidence of surgery. And Mr. Hashimoto and I have discussed that the process of the implantation would be another issue altogether."
"Mr. Steinbrenner, how do you expect me to believe your ridiculous allegations? I can not be assured that you really know this technique of your father's, or if it has any basis in fact at all. Now that his laboratory is destroyed, there is no evidence of a special computer, or that any kind of surgery was performed. We have before us Eve Miller, who says there is no computer, and my esteemed doctor who says there was no surgery."
"We do have proof that the computer is very powerful."
"Oh?"
"She's somehow more dense than the normal person. I have a crutch she bent like a pretzel."
It suddenly dawned on Sabrina that Hashimoto was trying to discredit the Steinbrenners so that he could negotiate alone with two women, whom he probably thought were fragile and absolutely no match for him. He would try to get out of paying the enormous finders fee. Sabrina realized that Eve was already helping him.
"Are you strong enough to bend a metal crutch," Eve asked Sabrina.
"Of course not."
"I didn't mention that Eve Miller broke both of our legs. She may be a little deranged, or maybe she has no morals, but she does have a computer and she's very powerful."
"I would probably have a broken toe, at the very least," Sabrina muttered softly, but loud enough for Hashimoto to hear.
"What did you say?" Hashimoto asked.
"I just meant that both of the Steinbrenner brothers are large men. I don't think I could break their legs."
"Listen, it's just going to be her word against ours. For some reason these women have taken a disliking to us. Why don't you perform that test you were talking about?"
"I was curious about the broken legs," Hashimoto said. "I inquired and was given a police report saying that both of you had been attacked by a large man using karate. I talked to a Sergeant Montgomery, who took your statements."
"We were simply trying to protect our father's creation," Alexander protested. "Do you think the police would really believe a girl had broken our legs?"
"You expect me to?" Hashimoto asked.
"I mean, we have a reputation to uphold, and, of course, our father to protect. He was expecting to get the Nobel prize for science for his extraordinary work."
"Which I see no sign of," Hashimoto said. He began gathering up his briefcase. The bodyguards stood up as though they had all received, telepathically, an order at the same instant.
"You can't just leave," Stephan protested. "We had an agreement."
"Do these men control either of you?" Hashimoto inquired.
Eve and Sabrina said No simultaneously.
"But you and I have an agreement, Mr. Hashimoto," Alexander exploded angrily.
"If there is no computer, there is no agreement. You cannot prove your allegations.
There is no agreement."
"Have your doctor do that test. Then you'll know." Alexander was almost shouting in frustration.
"I am extremely annoyed that I was brought here under false pretenses. I have better things to do than travel half way around the world on a gigantic hoax." Hashimoto's voice was very quiet and he sounded dangerously angry. He got up, clicking his briefcase closed.
They all left Alexander and Stephan at the table. Two of Hashimoto's bodyguards preceded the four small men. Eve and Sabrina got up and the remaining three bodyguards followed them out of the conference room.
Sabrina looked back at the two brothers. They saw her staring and looked back at her with deadly hatred.
Sabrina whispered to Eve that Alexander looked angry enough to try to kill them both, and Eve, using a hushed and deadly voice said, "Make my day."
Sabrina felt like tap dancing down the long plush halls. They had an identity and money for Eve. And they had humiliated the big bullies. She considered that the two main emotions she had experienced since awakening in the tanning salon, with Eve staring and unblinking at her, had been either fear or exultation. Right now she was feeling the heady triumph and jubilation she had felt the night they had dismantled Ferd's laboratory.
She stopped smiling though, when Hashimoto dropped behind his staff to walk with them. The three muscle men were still behind them all.
"It's sad that was such a waste of time," Hashimoto said. "Now why don't we make this sorry event useful, and have lunch? I would be honored to have you both accompany me."
Sabrina was afraid that Eve would say yes, never having known her to refuse food, so she quickly said that they had to get back to the shop.
"We do need to have a discussion," Hashimoto said.
They had stopped by the elevators.
"But as you know, there is no computer," Eve said.
"On the contrary, I believed everything Alexander Steinbrenner said, but I refuse to negotiate with greed-hungry men, disloyal to their own father. They are beneath contempt. I think you would be well advised to come with me, and learn about the information I have gathered."
CHAPTER 24
Burgess Whitcomb was annoyed when he noticed he didn't have the access card to unlock his own office. He couldn't remember taking it out of his coat and he patted down all his pockets.
Burgess went to the Building Manager's Office and ordered a new lock. A security guard accompanied him back to his office and opened the door.
Burgess noticed the lights were on. He did not notice the form attached to the front desk in the outer office immediately, as the man was small and very still, obviously asleep, with his chin resting on his chest, in quite an obscene and vulnerably spread position.
Burgess read the note from across the room. He turned and roughly pushed the security guard standing behind him out of the office, slamming the door in the man's astonished face.
He tried to remove the note without touching it with his own fingers, or waking Willard Modert, but Modert did awaken and started whimpering and struggling. He wasn't very loud, because of the adhesive tape over his mouth, or very forceful because he was tightly bound to the desk, but Burgess told him to shut the hell up. When he got the note off of Modert, Burgess held it daintily by his fingernails and put it in the top desk drawer in his own office. Then he untaped the man's mouth and eyes.
Willard's eyes were rolling and his mouth twitched spasmodically, dripping spittle. He cleared his throat several times.
"What in hell happened to you?" Burgess asked, as he started cutting Modert's arms and legs free.
"Someone came in here last night. Practically killed me. Then he tied me to the desk. He was enormously strong. After that I heard him going into the files. He used my key."
"Did he say anything?" Burgess asked, watching the small man flexing his arms and trying to get the cramps out of his legs.
Modert shook his head. "I put up quite a fight. He might be hurt."
Burgess helped Willard to his feet and steadied him when he almost collapsed.
"Oh, God. He used the shredder," Modert said urgently. "We have to check the files!"
"I'll take care of it. You go home and get some rest."
Modert protested, but Burgess was his boss and he had to leave without finding out what Burgess learned in the next few minutes. Everything was gone. Even the pictures and tapes, both audio and visual. Burgess checked the safe for the duplicate files and found it empty. He was furious. Modert had given the combination to the thief.
He had the office dusted for the prints he knew would not be there. Then he frantically called the hospital where Sergi Malcovich was still residing. He was too late. Sergi had undergone plastic surgery early that morning. All physical proof that one of the Miller women had bitten Sergi was gone. The precise pictures of the bite that matched Sabrina's dental records were part of what the thief had taken. As all the information was top secret, everything from the lab had been sent back to Whitcomb's office.
Burgess had the telephone records for his office faxed to his him, but could find nothing incriminating. He talked to the telephone company and found that the office telephones had a call-transfer service. Modert attended to all such mundane details.
Burgess soon found that there were calls placed at his own office that had been transferred to a phone at a flea-bag hotel room not far from the office. The hotel room was checked and it was vacant. Paid for in advance with cash. From those phone records there were calls to Moscow, Leningrad, Washington and Japan. There were also local calls. Secret calls. When Burgess traced the numbers they proved to be those of his own investigators, Sergi Malcovich and Ivar Cousin.
Burgess went to the hospital, the solicitous boss checking on one of his trusted employees. He found Sergi, recovering from surgery, watching television in a room with two other men. He pulled the curtains around the bed so the two would have some privacy and told Sergi that he would be required to press legal charges against the woman who had bitten him.
Then Burgess talked to the surgeon who had performed the plastic surgery. He wondered if the doctor had a picture of Sergi's wound before the surgery was performed. He did. It had become infected, so the injury showed discolored puffed skin around the actual hole. The wound was too infected to show individual tooth marks.
Burgess had to listen at length to how the surgeon had cut away the contaminated tissue and taken skin from the man's left buttock for the graft. There were many disgusting pictures of both neck and buttock that Whitcomb politely perused, but none that would incriminate Sabrina or Eve Miller.
Sergi Malcovich had another visitor a couple of hours after Burgess Whitcomb left him. Ivar Cousin found Sergi sleeping and closed the curtains around the bed. Ivar felt a unique type of loathing for the man lying helplessly on his back, snoring out of a wide open mouth. Sergi reminded him of a bovine swine, and not because of unusual girth, but due to the smug, arrogant expression he held even in sleep. Ivar identified in Sergi a person who took pleasure in causing others pain and suffering.
Ivar took hold of Sergi's shoulder and shook it to wake him, knowing that the proximity of his neck surgery to where he was shaking would be painful.
Sergi screamed, but Ivar had prepared for that by placing his large hand over the man's mouth.
"I want you to listen to me, and listen well," Ivar said, speaking very softly in Russian. "I know who you are, where you come from, and who you really work for. And I'm going to tell the American authorities. You will be imprisoned here in the United States. You will never see Russia again. Your family will be disgraced. Unless you do one easy thing."
"I'll kill you," Sergi said furiously.
"Shut up and listen." He shook Sergi's shoulder again and the man winced but did not utter a sound. "I want your silence about how you got that bite. This is what really happened. You will remember now...you heard a dog growling...and then you turned around and were attacked. It was a boxer dog. Large and tan colored. Do
you understand?"
"What the hell kind of stupid game are you playing, Ivar? When I get out of this damn place I am going to hunt you down and kill you. For shooting me."
Ivar shook his head.
Sergi looked at him sullenly, "I was bitten by a dark haired woman of approximately six feet in height, weighing almost nothing at all, with an angel face. She attacked without warning, as I was innocently talking to her."
Ivar knew Sergi would try to hit him so he leaned over the bed and grabbed his other arm, pinning him to the bed. He put his face so close it repulsed him; the man had the terrible breath that comes from a combination of rotting teeth and poor digestion. Ivar knew he had to appear very threatening or he would be forced to hurt Sergi. Impotent men, weak in the brain and easy to rage, respected nothing but brute force.
"Listen," Ivar said softly and slowly, so Sergi would understand the gravity of his situation. "Modert is blown. He was your operative. Now Burgess Whitcomb knows Modert is KGB. Burgess is inches away from finding out about the whole operation. There is nothing and nobody to protect you. Nothing but me. If you tell anyone that you were bitten by a woman, I promise I will tell the American authorities about you."
"You wouldn't," Sergi insisted.
"I did. Modert is a lot higher in the hierarchy than an underling like you, who can't even speak English without a Russian accent. You better believe I'll cut you loose. You're in serious trouble, Sergi. You will rot in jail forever."
"I can't do anything without an operative," Sergi whined.
"I am your operative. All you have to remember is that you were attacked by a dog."
"There wasn't any dog."
Ivar sighed deeply. He would have to torture the man. Despite the fact that he felt no warmth for this Neanderthal, he did not relish the thought of violence and only wanted to scare Sergi so he wouldn't accuse Eve of attacking him.
"I'll pull off that patch of skin on your neck."
"Don't you dare," Sergi said frantically.
"You're a disgrace to your country. I personally despise anyone who would shoot a man sitting in a wheel chair. I didn't hesitate to shoot you then, and you better believe I will hurt you now. Now let’s go over the scenario again."