by R Arundel
Matthew, “Tom’s and Amanda’s murders, I thought government. But two people died at the same time in my hospital’s recovery room. That just never happens. The more I thought about it, the more I thought they had to be somehow related. The waiting room was crowded with people and I had the feeling I was being followed. What if the two deaths were not coincidence? What if someone planned the two deaths to do just that?”
“To do what?”
“To fill the waiting area so they could get into the hospital and follow me. Kill me in the group.”
“Can you listen to yourself? Someone is going to go to all that trouble to kill you. Kill two totally innocent people just to get at you. You’ve lost it. Big time.”
“This thing is big. Bigger than we can imagine.”
“Matthew, this is a paranoid delusion. A conspiracy on a scale so grand . . . it’s ridiculous.”
“Think of what I’ve just told you. Whoever is doing this has vast resources and know how. I think it’s got to have a link to some of our own people. I couldn’t take a chance that anything I told you would leak.”
“We have an eyewitness that saw you run from Amanda’s house after her murder. If you are innocent, if it is just a frame-up, why run? All you had to do was explain yourself.”
“The cops would have held me in custody, you know that. All the while delaying the search for the real killer.”
“We know you are the one selling TWG secrets.”
“Someone is deliberately setting me up, just like Amanda’s murder. They’re doing a pretty good job. It complicated, and I haven’t even sorted it all out yet.”
“Or it’s very simple. You sold some secrets. It was about to blow open and expose you. Your colleague Tom got wind you were selling us out, and he confronted you.”
“I would never hurt Tom.”
“One of your colleagues has provided information pointing squarely to you.”
“Who?” says Matthew.
“You did it, now stop the charade. Frankly, it’s beneath you.”
“Just look at other possibilities. Don’t let the whole investigation go into tunnel vision.”
“I’ll check on the possibility that a group gone rogue killed Tom. I’ll even check out the two hospital deaths.”
“Great.”
“Why don’t you turn yourself in? And why do we have to keep the light off?”
“Who’s been assigned to capture me?” says Matthew.
“Jason is tasked with bringing you in to answer a few simple questions.”
“Cooper. Good objective choice.”
“You were friends in the past. He’s marrying Celerie Brindsmore. Did you know that?”
“Celerie?”
“We know a lot; we’re not the stooges you take us for.”
“How many murders has Jason tried to put on me?”
“He’ll hunt you. He’ll never stop. Just come in. If there is a reasonable alternative explanation, I want to hear it.”
“I need time to find out who killed Tom and Amanda.”
“Tom died from a high energy military weapon. It was made to look like an arrhythmia.”
“Even you can’t believe I did that. How would I have access to that kind of weapon?”
“Did you sell us out to another government?”
“I’ll be in touch. Don’t try to follow me.”
Chapter Fifteen
Matthew laughs so hard he feels a pain in his stomach.
Sarah laughs too. “Looking back, it was pretty funny, but at that time, it was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. It’s pretty dark out now. How much longer til we get to Houston?”
Matthew says, “We’re making good time, not too much longer.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t made a comment about my hair.”
“It looks good.”
“Do you think it’s too black?”
“The black looks good. You won’t stand out.”
“I’ve never colored my hair before.”
“Let’s play I spy. I spy with my little eye something that begins with the letter E. ”
“Is it an animal?”
“No, it’s not an animal.”
“I miss the white. Is it in this car?”
“I agree, the natural white looks great on you. Yes, it’s in this car.”
“You’ve never told me that before. Is it in the front half of the car?”
“Well, with the new face, I seem to be able to say a lot of things I don’t usually. Yes, it’s in the front half of the car, and you better start concentrating. You have to get the answer in ten questions and you’ve already used three.”
“I like the black. We don’t want everyone remembering the young woman with the white hair. Is it the engine?”
Matthew, “No, it’s not the engine.”
Sarah, “Mr. Steven Jardine, your name sounds like a made up name. Is it on a person?”
“It is a made up name, Sarah. Good question—yes, it’s on a person.”
“Maybe you should start calling me Heather, to get used to my made-up name. Is it on me?”
“I’ll remember to call you Heather. Don’t worry, Sarah, I mean Heather. No, it’s not on you.”
“I’m having trouble getting used to the new face, Mr. Steve Jardine. Is it your clothing?”
“Not as handsome as the old face. No, not clothing.”
“Not even close. Is it a body part?”
“I do believe Heather called me handsome. Sort of?”
Sarah laughs. “Sort of? Either it is or isn’t a body part.”
“Well, it’s part of the body, but not a part.”
“Your blue eyes.”
“Got it. Not bad. How did you get it?”
“It’s the only thing on Steve Jardine’s face that is still Matthew. The eyes.”
“ And you did it in nine questions.”
I actually did it in eight questions, but hey, who’s counting? This is really turning out to be a good little road trip.”
“It has been a lot of fun. Last time I played I Spy was with my mom on a trip just like this.”
“What is your mom like?”
“She’s a good soul.”
“You never really talk about your dad.”
“There’s nothing to really talk about. He and my mom weren’t married. The relationship, if there even was one, ended long before I was born.”
“Did you ever meet him?”
“No.”
“Never?”
“My mom refuses to tell me who he is.”
“That’s a little strange.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve asked her many times. She won’t say. She says she doesn’t know.”
“Do you believe her?”
“No. When I was a teenager I looked for my birth records, tracked down the hospital where I was born. There were no clues.”
“Maybe Tom was your father.”
“Tom was single back then and so was my mom. The only thing she did tell me is that Tom is not my father. Although she says she wished he were.”
“Why is she keeping it a secret?”
“My mom is a very honest and trusting person. I’m sure this man broke her heart in some way. She decided to go it alone and never see him again.”
Sarah holds Matthew’s hand. “I know not having a father would have been very tough on you. I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to let me in.”
“It wasn’t so bad. Tom always filled in. He took me to ballgames.”
“That’s not easy, though. Kids can be brutal about stuff like that.”
“I think about him a lot.”
“Tom?”
“No, my father. He’s probably still alive. Does he even know my mom had a baby? Did he know he was a father? What does he look like? There’s an emptiness I feel, just not knowing.”
Sarah pulls her hand away. “Now that we’re confessing deep, dark secrets, there’s something I need to confess.”
“That sounds serious.”
“I . . . I can’t, not now.”
“No problem. When you’re ready.”
“Thanks.”
They drive in silence for twenty minutes.
Matthew says, “We’re not too far.”
“I really didn’t want to come on this road trip, but Liam convinced me.”
“Really?”
“Liam said it’s not safe for you to travel on your own with the new face. He was right. We have to keep it below eighty degrees at all times. We don’t know how long the face can last. Anything past a week is unknown.”
“Keeping the face cool is the big thing. I don’t want it to melt off because I don’t want to be Steve Jardine forever.”
“I hear you. No one’s ever kept a face for this long.”
“The real fun is about to start.”
Sarah asks, “Michael Coulson?”
“Michael Coulson. He’s got to be the guy.”
Sarah, “Yeah, it’s him. He called you up last minute to go to the lab. Conveniently, he told you bring an anesthetist and a scrub nurse. Just what you need for a face transplant.”
“He also told Quentin I was selling secrets. He set me up.”
“Or someone is smart enough to feed him the wrong info so Michael sets you up. Maybe he really believes you’re guilty; maybe he was set up.”
“I’ve known him for years. He was in the lab at Stanford with Liam and Tom before they split up to open their own centers. These guys were close. I always thought Mike was a stand up guy, but it’s looking like he’s the one.”
“Whoever did this also did a great job of framing you for Amanda’s murder. It looks like you killed your girlfriend. You were never with her, were you?”
“No, we were close friends. She helped me settle into New York. I helped her get through a tough divorce.”
“They framed you good.”
“I know. The police think there was something between us, it went wrong, and I killed her.”
“Precisely.”
“Whoever is behind this is making no mistakes.”
“We need to solve this thing. The faster we solve it, the faster we get on with our own lives.”
“We’ll be in Houston around ten. What do you say we hit up a club?”
“‘Hit up a club?’ When was the last time Matthew MacAulay ‘hit up a club?’”
“Never.”
“Okay. Let’s do it.”
***
When Matthew got to the Houston Medical Center, he went directly to Michael’s lab. He saw the door to Michael’s small and messy office, but he waited in the hallway until Michael’s assistant came out.
“Hi, Bryan.”
Bryan turns around and looks at the man in front of him. Bryan has no idea he is looking at Matthew.
Bryan asks, “Do I know you?”
“We met at the conference last year on microvascular surgery in Washington. You gave a talk.”
“You remember my presentation?”
“I’m Steven Jardine, a grad student.”
“Right, right, now I remember you. How’ve you been man?”
“Good. Good. Been working in New York with Dr. Rasulov.”
“So you work with Dr. Matthew MacAulay as well?” says Bryan.
“Sure,” says Matthew.
“I heard he’s a real a-hole.”
“From who?”
“Don’t get defensive; that’s just what I heard about the guy.”
“My time there is almost up. I wanted to talk to Dr. Coulson.”
“About a position next July?” Bryan continued without even waiting for a reply. “This place is not bad. I’ve written about five book chapters for him and three articles accepted in peer-reviewed publications.”
“Not bad.”
“It’s okay. I’m starting on staff in Boston in the fall.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks. You won’t have any luck talking to Mike, he’s gone.”
“Where?”
“He’s gone for the day. But we are having a get-together at Cassava tonight. It’s a great restaurant. It’s to celebrate our research grant. Michael now holds the most research funds for anyone in his field,” says Bryan.
That is a lie and Matthew can’t resist. “More than Liam Rasulov?”
Bryan hesitates. “I know, but this is how Mike likes to sell it. What can you do?”
Dr. Michael Coulson comes walking down the hallway. He is carrying a large green lunch box. Matthew had just seen him a few weeks ago at a conference. He seems to have aged ten years in that time.
Bryan stops him as he is passing by. “Dr. Coulson, this is Steven Jardine. A clinical fellow in New York with Rasulov and his group.”
Dr. Coulson stops and takes a long, hard look at Matthew. The stare goes right to Matthew’s bones, and he is sure Michael has recognized him.
“Mike Coulson, pleased to meet you, Steven. What did you say your last name is?”
They shake hands.
Matthew says, “Jardine. Steven Jardine.”
“I don’t know you. So you’re with Rasulov and his boys. Strange days up there. Matt MacAulay’s wanted by the police.”
“We don’t hear much.”
Michael says, “You must have heard something?”
“Nothing more than you, I’m sure.”
Bryan says, “Rumor has it he was involved with his scrub nurse and then offed her.”
“We didn’t hear that.”
Michael says, “I heard he gave data on his facial transplantation work to a foreign university. What are they saying in New York?”
Matthew says, “I think he was a well-liked guy. Let’s just wait and see.”
Michael says, “Matthew liked to live the high life.”
Matthew is angry at this false statement, but he remains calm. He realizes that to get on the good side of Michael Coulson, Steven Jardine will need to put down Matthew MacAulay. “I heard he did. He was a bit of a pig to work for.”
Michael smiles. The insults are playing to the ego of Dr. Coulson.
Matthew presses his advantage. “Don’t you have the largest research grant now?”
“It’s great to be honored with the most grants, but it’s the work that is important, not the grants. Did Bryan invite you to the party tonight? We’d love to have you. I’d like to interview you for the open position. Let’s talk at the party.”
Michael turns around and goes back to his office.
Bryan turns to Matthew. “You just worked him like a pro.”
“There’s only one way to get a job. Suck up.”
“Steve, I’m sorry I won’t be back to work with you next year. You’re a very bright guy.”
“Thanks for the invite. I’ll be at Cassava; it sounds like fun.”
“I’ll put you down on the list. Partners allowed.”
“I’ll bring my girlfriend.” Matthew laughs inside thinking how Sarah will react to that.
“Great.”
***
Michael sits at his desk thinking. He opens his green lunch box and munches on a half-eaten ham sandwich. He then picks up the phone. He speaks softly. “I just met a very interesting person. He came to my office to interview.”
Michael listens carefully, then speaks. “Yes, I agree, quite the coincidence. That’s why I thought you’d be interested.”
Michael listens again.
Michael says, “Yes, that’s no problem. Francesca will fit right in; there will be a lot of people. I’ll introduce her as a visiting professor.”
Michael puts down the telephone and stares into space.
***
The restaurant is noisy and packed. Dark, heavy beams of wood frame the oversized glass windows of Cassava. The entrance is bold, masculine. Sarah looks completely different now that she has dyed her hair black. With a simple change of color, she is unrecognizable.
Cassava is the place to be in Houston. The restaurant, named aft
er the cassava plant, brings Brazilian cuisine to the city. The root of the plant is used to make many Brazilian dishes, including the restaurant’s specialty, feijoada. The decor is casual but upscale. The outdoor patio is set with heavy wooden tables and Spanish-styled chairs. Bright murals adorn the walls. The medical group had taken over the restaurant, and it is lively and festive.
On this hot summer night, Sarah wears a close-fitting bright print dress, highlighting her pale skin and white hair. As soon as they enter the patio, a waitress approaches them with a tray of drinks.
“Drink?”
Sarah asks, “What are you serving?”
“Caipirinhas. It’s made with lime, cachaca, and sugar.”
Matthew and Sarah each take a drink. A large slice of green lime sits at the bottom of the glasses.
Sarah says, “I like cachaca. It’s a very smooth rum.”
Matthew responds, “It’s fermented from sugarcane juice.”
“This party is going to be not too shabby.”
Sarah and Matthew take a table in a quiet corner of the outdoors.
“Just remember, I’m Steven Jardine.”
“Steven, do you ever think about him?”
“Tom?”
“No, Mr. Glock.”
“No. Why should I?”
“It must feel a little weird, doesn’t it?” Sarah asks in barely a whisper. “You killed him.”
“Sarah, I saved three innocent lives—that’s what I did. Thanks for saying thanks.”
“I’m sorry, it came out wrong.”
A long silence hangs between them.
“I never set out to be part of the Transplant Working Group.”
Sarah finishes her caipirinha and has another.
Matthew continues, “It started out great.”
“It’s not where you start out; it’s where you end up.”
Bryan spots Matthew and comes to the table. “Steven, glad you could make it.” Sarah and Matthew stand with Bryan.
“Hi, Bryan, this is Heather,” says Matthew.
“Nice to meet you, Bryan.”
Before Bryan can reply, Michael Coulson is upon them. He is accompanied by a tall, voluptuous woman. Matthew recognizes her full lips. She is the woman who was part of the clean up crew the night Matthew and Sarah did the failed transplant. He looks at her muscular thighs and wonders if she is carrying a gun.
Michael says, “Bryan, leave it to you to find the action.”