Never Fear - The Tarot: Do You Really Want To Know?

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Never Fear - The Tarot: Do You Really Want To Know? Page 53

by Heather Graham


  Peter knew from the Director’s comments that he assumed Kyle was on board with everything Peter proposed. He didn’t correct him. It was inevitable that Kyle would find out. At this point there was no going back. He knew his results were solid. The box told him so. The card had turned so far it was almost upside down. The box had become his good luck charm. Things started to change after he received it. He no longer wondered why it had been sent to him. All he knew was that the mysterious card-like drawing seemed to be measuring his success. As long as it kept turning forward he’d continue to be successful.

  Kyle took Melissa out to lunch the day after the board gave its approval to begin human clinical trials. Director Reyes passed by their table on his way out of the café. They’d been discussing their concerns over Peter’s physical deterioration and mental state. He greeted them warmly.

  “You must be excited that the human trials were approved. I’ll be scheduling a meeting with you and Peter this week to put a plan in place.”

  Kyle hid his shock. “Sure,” he said. “We’re hoping for 100% success.”

  Reyes laughed. “So does everyone, but in your case I can understand. It must be exciting to finally see results after all these years. How many has it been now?”

  “Almost ten,” Kyle replied.

  “Sometimes that’s pretty quick in our field.” He looked at his watch. “Gotta go, sorry. I have a meeting in ten minutes. We’ll talk again. I’ll set it up something for tomorrow.” He nodded at Melissa and headed for the exit.

  “You didn’t know,” she said. “And don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

  “I won’t. No, I didn’t know about the human trials.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I had no clue.” He stopped short of adding that he hadn’t known that the testing had gotten to that point. He’d known for weeks that Peter had switched to the affinity method and the extraordinary results Peter was getting. When Andy had mentioned that Peter needed more mice he knew something was up. Peter had plenty of opportunities to come clean but he’d continued to hide the truth. Kyle had been waiting for Peter to catch on that his results were too good to be true but he’d been too consumed by success to see the truth. Kyle had been adjusting the results for weeks, modifying the data import from the instruments. Peter must have forgotten that Kyle knew the password to his computer.

  *

  Melissa picked up the letter on Kyle’s table out of curiosity. When she saw that it was addressed to Peter, she decided to read it, hoping it would give her some insight into his behavior. She’d liked him instinctively but she hadn’t seen much of him since the dinner. Kyle had been spending more time in the lab and she hoped that things were working out between them.

  She was surprised to see that the letter was from a law firm. It began by apologizing for the delay in sending the letter, which should have been included with the box he’d inherited from the late Brian Sanders. It also contained a warning. Peter had to make a will with specific instructions that left the box to someone not related to him. There was also a cryptic handwritten note cautioning Peter to pay attention to the position of the card.

  Melissa almost laughed. Someone must be playing a trick on Peter. When Kyle walked into the kitchen she held up the letter.

  “Did you read this?” she asked.

  Kyle grinned. ”Yeah, I opened it by mistake. If it wasn’t from a law firm I’d wonder who the nut job was sending it. I was just going to throw it out. Peter has enough issues at the moment.”

  “I don’t know, maybe you should give it to him. It might mean something to him.”

  Kyle shook his head. “I doubt it.” He paused. “Wait a minute, he did get a package delivered a few months ago. The return address was a law firm in California.”

  “There you go,” she said. “How about I drop it off to him at work tomorrow? I’d like to see how he’s doing.”

  “Be my guest. But you have to take the blame for it being open.”

  *

  Melissa found Peter in his office, staring intently at rows and rows of data on his computer screen. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. She knocked once, twice, again until he finally looked up and gestured her in.

  “Hi Peter, how are you?” She took a tentative step inside.

  “Fine, please come in, have a seat.” He gave her a wan smile then immediately turned back to his computer.

  “I was wondering if you had a minute, there’s something I need to tell you.” She pulled the letter out of her purse.

  “If it’s about Kyle I really don’t have time, sorry.” He kept his eyes on the screen.

  “No, actually, it’s about this letter.” She held it up, took a deep breath then continued. “First, I want to apologize for reading it. I guess my only excuse was curiosity. It was already open, the envelope was missing.”

  “What letter?”

  “It’s from a law firm in California. It was supposed to come with the box but they forgot it.”

  Peter finally turned to look at her. “The box?”

  She winced as she studied his face. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. He seemed confused about the box. Maybe she’d been mistaken.

  “Oh” she said, “I’m sorry. The letter said you had inherited a mahogany box from the estate of a Mr. Brian Sanders.” No reaction. “I guess maybe you didn’t…?” She trailed off.

  His eyes flicked upward then back down. Melissa followed his gaze. On a shelf above his desk was a wooden box, deep red with streaks of black. She reached for it, glancing at Peter but he didn’t object. The box was warm to the touch. She ran her hand over the top, admiring the workmanship. She glanced at Peter again but he had turned back to his computer. Melissa pulled the latch free and slowly opened the lid.

  She recognized the carving immediately. It was the Ace of Wands, one of the Tarot cards that belonged to the Minor Arcana.

  “Oh,” she whispered, “This is beautiful.” She traced the outline of the card with her finger.

  Peter turned his attention back towards her. “I know. It’s showing me my success.”

  “Sorry?” she asked.

  “The card moves. When it has gone all the way around I’ll be done, my research will have created a new way to cure cancer.”

  Melissa looked back in the box. The card was almost fully reversed. She knew that wasn’t always a good thing, but looking at Peter she was more worried that he had pushed himself too far.

  “May I take this home with me? I promise I will bring it back tomorrow.”

  He stood quickly, taking the box out of her hands. “It has to stay here.”

  “Okay,” she said. “I’m sorry, it’s a beautiful piece. I thought maybe I’d try and find out something about it.”

  “Not necessary, I know everything I need to.” He sat back down. “The trials start next week and I have a lot to do. Maybe you could stop back another time.”

  “Sure Peter, and good luck tomorrow.”

  He didn’t answer. She put the letter in her purse and left his office.

  *

  When Melissa got back to her desk she opened up a browser window and did a search on the Ace of Wands card. Back in college she and her friends had experimented with Tarot cards, attempting to learn how to read them. They hadn’t gotten far, probably due to the amount of wine they consumed during their sessions. In spite of that she had a healthy respect for the cards and their power. Her grandmother had used them religiously. But she’d never seen a box like Peter’s and in his condition he might be imagining that the card was moving. She was sure it had been solidly attached to the bottom of the box.

  The Ace of Wands represented good things, confidence, inspiration and imagination, possibilities for achieving success. Reversed, it could mean false starts, blind optimism, taking things to the extreme, a misdirection of energies. Some interpretations warned that not paying attention to a reversed card could result in disastrous consequences. There had to be some information onlin
e about the box. She was going to cancel her date with Kyle and do some research of her own.

  Kyle and Peter met with the director for the final meeting before the clinical trials got started. Kyle couldn’t understand why Peter hadn’t protested his participation, but one look at Peter’s face convinced him that Peter was close to the edge. Ten volunteers had signed up to test the new antibodies. The first phase had been detailed and approved to move forward. Doctors on staff would be working with Peter and Kyle to study the effects of the antibodies and determine the severity of any side effects. The patient volunteers would be closely monitored, but Kyle knew that each of the test subjects was participating as a last resort. It was the only reason he hadn’t confessed to Peter that he’d doctored the results. Reyes gave the official go-ahead, again warning that he would pull the plug if anything went wrong during the first phase. Peter just smiled serenely and went back to his office, not acknowledging Kyle’s presence.

  *

  Melissa left work early, settling on the couch with her laptop. A search on Brian Sanders of Oakland, California didn’t produce any relevant hits. She expanded her search, adding ‘obituary’ to his name and leaving out Oakland. Nine hits, three of them too young, four of them too far in the past. The last two were possibilities. One had died in a car crash in Upstate New York, the other of a heart attack in New Mexico. There wasn’t much information on the Brian Sanders in New Mexico, a short obituary in the Albuquerque Journal with many condolences to the widow on her sudden loss. The Brian Sanders in New York was a different story. According to the State Police the car accident was ruled a suicide. Multiple witnesses claimed he’d deliberately driven his car through the guardrail off the Thruway into the deep ravine below.

  There was more. According to a long expose in one of the leading financial journals, Sanders, a financial advisor and computer whiz, convinced his clients to invest their life savings into what he assured them was a safe and potentially lucrative managed investment account. Initially he’d been right. His clients made money more quickly than they’d been promised, thanks to a computer program Sanders created to automatically purchase and sell stock that was tailored specifically for each client. Word of his success quickly spread until Sanders had a client base of hundreds, mostly small investors who would eventually invest their life savings. Some even took out second mortgages on their homes.

  A year later Sanders’ success put his name on the cover of multiple financial magazines. He appeared on morning talk shows, touting the success of his software. His client base soared to the thousands even as his own personal wealth multiplied. Those who knew him claimed that as his success grew so did his ego. Friends worried that he was living too close to the edge with no regard for a potential crash. When it came, it was sudden and devastating, but not for Sanders. The program spiraled out of control, a glitch he’d never anticipated. Life savings disappeared into thin air, all but his own. His clients were wiped out, personally and financially. Sanders didn’t seem to care, refusing to take the blame for a sudden computer glitch. All but a handful of his clients joined a class action lawsuit to recover their life savings. Those who didn’t quietly took their lives out of desperation. The day after his oldest client, an elderly widow who’d invested and lost her entire life savings, swallowed a handful of her heart medication, Sanders instructed his lawyers to liquidate his assets and pay off as many of his clients as he could. The next day he drove his car off the road and down into a ravine.

  She wasn’t sure what connection the box had to Sander’s rise and fall. She searched again for any information on the box without success. It was only 6:30. She still had time to make a phone call.

  A woman answered on the third ring. “Talbot Law, how may I direct your call?”

  “Yes, my name is Alison King, I represent Peter Clarke. He received a package from your firm and my client has some questions.” The lie came out smoothly. Melissa was more curious than nervous.

  “I see,” she said. “One moment please.”

  A few minutes later another woman picked up. She sounded too young to be a lawyer. Melissa suspected that she’d been handed off to a legal assistant.

  “This is Lily. I understand you have some questions regarding an inheritance from the estate of Brian Sanders?”

  “Hello Lily, my name is Alison. Apologies for the delay, we just received your letter recently.” Melissa paused but there was no response. She continued. “My client is curious about the inheritance. He doesn’t believe he has any connection to Mr. Sanders and wonders if there may have been some mistake.”

  Still silence from the other end.

  “Are you still there?”

  The woman cleared her throat. “There was no mistake. The box was meant for your client.”

  “Okay. Can you tell me anything about the box?”

  “One moment please.”

  Melissa heard the sound of footsteps. A minute later Lily was back on the line.

  “Apologies, I wanted to move somewhere more private. The truth is, your client’s name was picked at random.”

  An hour later Melissa was still wondering how much of what Lily just told her she should believe. She called Kyle, asking if he could stop by. She had something to tell him.

  The box had been passed along at random for over two hundred years. At first the box was passed down among families until one of the family members realized its power to destroy and passed it to a perfect stranger. This eventually because the custom, as many of its owners met with an untimely end. Each owner believed that the box must be passed on or someone in their family would pay the consequences. The box had the potential to mean great success to the owner as long as they didn’t abuse that success. The owner would know they’d taken the wrong path when the card started to turn. Some were able to reverse the card, but most became too obsessed to resist the power of their success and paid the price, often by suicide.

  When she finished telling Kyle Lily’s story, he laughed out loud.

  “You don’t seriously believe all that?”

  “It doesn’t matter if I do or not. Something is happening to Peter. You’ve seen it for yourself. We need to tell him. What can it hurt?”

  “Honey, go ahead if you want to, but I don’t think he’ll believe you anymore than I do.”

  “You really think it’s a little crazy?” Melissa wasn’t sure what to think now. Lily had been so sincere she’d actually believed that Peter was in some sort of danger. Maybe Kyle was right and she’d been taken in by Lily’s story, although she couldn’t understand what Lily had to gain by telling it to her.

  Melissa found herself at Peter’s office door the next morning. It was locked and dark inside. No one seemed to know where he was. She told herself she’d try again later, even if the story sounded much less plausible in the light of day.

  Peter was holed up in a small office near the doctors administering the trials. He wanted to be close and monitor everything as it happened. One by one the first group of volunteers was injected, vitals recorded, blood drawn before and after. Peter waited for any kind of reaction, eventually falling asleep at his desk. He woke with a start in the middle of the night. A woman stood in shadow, watching him from the corner of the room.

  “Can I help you?” He reached for the light, blinking in the sudden brightness. The woman was gone. Another hallucination, he thought. He reached for the box, opening it to check on the success of his antibodies. He’d expected the card to be swinging back around but it had stopped at South. His heart sank for a moment, thinking it meant the antibodies weren’t going to work at first then concluded that each subject needed to get the injection before he could achieve success. He switched off the light and closed his eyes. There was time for a few more hours of sleep before he had to get back to work.

  Four hours later he lifted his head from the desk. The room was still dark. He stretched and yawned then stood up to turn on the lights. Five people now stood silent against the wall, staring at hi
m with blank expressions. Peter stumbled back, groping the wall until he found the switch. Light flooded the room. He was alone.

  Director Reyes was waiting for him when he left his temporary office. He motioned Peter over.

  “Peter. Can you come with me to my office? We need to talk.”

  “Sure. Let me go get my notes and I’ll be right with you.”

  “No need, just come with me.”

  Peter followed him silently down the hallway. The Director closed the door behind them.

  “Please, sit.” He waited while Peter sat down then continued. “As I stated at our meetings, I was pulling the plug immediately if anything went wrong.”

  Peter nodded.

  “There is no easy way to say this so I won’t mince words. All of the initial five test subjects died overnight as a result of massive internal hemorrhaging. The decision was made to pull the plug after the death of the third patient. We couldn’t save the other two.”

  “No, you’re wrong. It wasn’t the antibodies. You can’t pull the plug.” Peter heard the desperation in his voice but he didn’t care. The antibodies worked. He knew they did. The tests didn’t lie.

  “That may be true, but until it can be proved otherwise the clinical trials are suspended.”

  Peter got up from the chair and made his way back to his office. They were wrong. All he had to do was prove it. He grabbed a vial of antibodies and a syringe then left for home. He passed Kyle in the hallway, brushing past him without a word.

  *

  Peter put the car in park then hurried into the house. If he could prove the antibodies were safe right now he could convince the Director to reinstate the trials. He went into his room and closed the door. Taking the syringe out of the sterile package, he inserted the needle into the antibody solution, pulling back the plunger until the entire barrel was full. He sat on the floor and plunged the needle into a vein in his arm, then leaned against the wall with his eyes closed to wait.

 

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