Dammit. She was almost certain he knew she was blushing this time.
“Alright,” Reese said struggling with her composure. “First step, back to your place. We have to get you presentable!”
She led him back into the teleportation room. The lights once again engaged as they entered. She pulled a smartphone from her pocket and tapped a few times on the screen before stepping onto the platform.
Cyrus waited at the base of the platform.
“Well?” she asked. “Are you coming with, or are you waiting for the next car?” She always found the allusion to elevators amusing when referring to the transport platforms, given the disparity in technology.
“Ah, you mean we can go together?” he looked a little unsettled. “We won’t end up as conjoined twins or something? I remember what happened in that movie, The Fly. It didn’t work out too well for Jeff Goldblum!”
Her eyebrows arched at the thought. She’d worked on the project for years and had never made that connection. “Very funny. That was an entirely different technology—and it was fiction!” She stepped back only a few inches and waved a hand, directing him onto the platform. It would be tight, but she was good with that.
God! she thought. This wasn’t like her. She was acting like a schoolgirl. Fine, as long as she could keep from blushing again, she would count it as a win.
Cyrus ascended the steps of the platform and stepped close in front of her. They were virtually toe-to-toe. The platform was four feet wide. They could have stood comfortably shoulder-to-shoulder. She supposed he wasn’t familiar with how the platform functioned and was reluctant to be near the edge when they teleported. He wouldn’t know that there were safeguards to prevent transport, should something on the platform break the plane of the transport barrier. She bit gently at the corner of her lip and looked up into his face. She could tell him.
Nahh!
Without looking down at the phone in her hand, she tapped the button to initiate transport. The ten-second delay started counting down.
Wait a minute. The perimeter safety mechanism that prevented transport was one of the ideas that Walter had come back with after one of his trips to visit Cyrus. Walter said he got the idea from Cyrus. But that would mean—
She looked up into his eyes. He smiled and gave her a wink just as the lights flashed and the trip was over.
—————
Cyrus gave Reese a coy wink, which was followed immediately by a mild flash of light. His ears popped. The trip was over. He looked around, expecting to be back in the basement vault of the house in Colorado. He was still having trouble thinking of it as his house. But he wasn’t in the basement. They were standing in an empty walk-in closet. The teleportation platform was an identical match to the one in California. Had she taken them somewhere different? No, he recognized the carpet on the floor. They were standing in the closet of one of the spare bedrooms. The closet’s light turned on when they teleported in. He saw the motion sensor over the light switch beside the door.
Stepping back to the edge of the platform, he motioned for Reese to exit first. She still looked up at him with a suspicious pinch to her eyes. He smiled, confident he was finally past his embarrassingly awkward stage with her. It seemed they had moved on to flirting. She suspected he knew of the platform’s safety protocols. It was true, he had unconfirmed suspicions. Meade had once started a discussion about strange safety procedures involving laser-based sensors. The teleportation platform seemed like a practical application for everything they had discussed. He suspected those sensors and protocols were now used to prevent a transport from initiating, while part of the payload was not entirely within the confines of the pad. Still, he wasn’t willing to bet his life—or an appendage—on those assumptions. So he had played it safe. Better for Reese to think him flirting than to have an accident. Besides, he could flirt and play it safe at the same time.
Out in the bedroom, Reese had turned on the overhead light. Cyrus walked out and smiled. “Make yourself at home. I’ll find my shoes and throw on a fresh shirt. I wasn’t expecting company.” He headed for the master bedroom across the hall, while she turned left toward the living room.
Cyrus walked through the doorway of the master bedroom and pulled his t-shirt off over his head. He tossed it on the floor beside his duffle bag. He would need to get the rest of his clothes moved over. It might be time to make a list. He would need groceries, too. Arriving with no idea what to expect from the property, it could’ve been a shack or a rustic cabin. He certainly hadn’t expected a spread like this. He could see this being home, settling in here and being comfortable, even happy. At least he had solved the mystery of Meade’s uninhibited travel. The old man must’ve been using the teleportation platforms to move between Colorado and Chicago. And between Colorado and Santa Barbara. Likely between D.C. and London as well, he reasoned.
How many of these platforms are out there?
Pulling the gun from the back of his jeans, he was going to leave it on the nightstand. After a moment, he thought better of it. He still didn’t know what he was getting into here. It wouldn’t hurt to be carrying. But he would do it right this time. Digging into the outer pocket of his duffle, he found the holster for the Springfield. He slipped the weapon into the holster and the holster into the back of his jeans. The holster had a clip that snapped over his belt and kept the rig in place. Pulling a dark, button-down shirt from his bag, he slipped it over his shoulders. Buttoning it up, he left it untucked. It would work well in hiding the handgun. After grabbing a battered pair of hiking boots, he switched off the light and headed for the living room.
He found Reese standing stock still in the center of the living room. She seemed lost in thought. He didn’t say anything. Instead, he sat down on the couch and began lacing up his boots, all the while wondering what she was thinking.
After a few moments, she snapped out of her funk and looked around. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “It’s different being here, since he’s gone.”
Ahh, that’s understandable. He had no idea how close Reese had been with Meade. He was only aware of the broad strokes. For example, he knew they had worked together for several years. And that the old man referred to her as his associate. But when Reese introduced herself earlier, she claimed she was Meade’s research assistant. He assumed she was being modest. He knew for a fact that Meade considered her a peer, not a subordinate. But beyond that, Cyrus had no idea what their relationship really might have been. “Were you close?”
She looked at him for a moment and thought, then shrugged her shoulders. “It was hard to tell with Walter. I would say I was as close to him as anyone he knew. But he was a very private person. It’s no exaggeration to say this project was his life. He’d been working on it since he left college. He never married. In the time I knew him, I don’t think he ever even dated.
“This place was more than a home to him. It was his sanctuary. The number of people who have been in this house could be counted on one hand.” She thought for a moment. “I guess you could say we were close. We spent Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve here together the last two years. But I always thought he did that out of pity. My parents died a couple of years back. I think Walter realized the holidays were hard for me. He invited me up here so I wouldn’t be alone.”
Cyrus wasn’t sure how to respond. Certainly it made his heart ache to think of someone like Reese losing her family. Seeing the far off look in her eyes when she spoke of them made it clear that it was still a fresh wound. But that wasn’t what she was really getting at, so he stayed on point. “I think you’re selling yourself short. The Walter Meade I knew didn’t do anything unless it was what he wanted. He was a kind and generous man, but, like you said, he was a private man, too. If he didn’t want you here, he wouldn’t have asked you to share the holidays with him.”
It was a tricky subject. She was clearly missing the old man. He wanted to make her feel better, but he meant every word. Meade had had his share of secre
ts. Cyrus got the sense that he was just now scratching the surface of those secrets. Meade had spoken highly of Reese, had referred to her as his contemporary, rather than as his assistant. The old man had made her a part of his meager private life. Clearly Walter Meade had thought very much of this woman.
With a small sniff, Reese wiped a tear from the corner of each eye. “Thank you. I suppose you’re right. I guess it just struck me as strange, seeing the place without his personal effects.”
“I wondered about that. What happened to his stuff after he passed? You said he didn’t have a lot of friends and even fewer knew where he lived? Who cleaned the place out?”
“That was me. You’re right. He didn’t trust many. But he did leave an extremely detailed will. You must have met Mister Underwood?”
Cyrus nodded.
“Everything was detailed in the will. He asked that I take all of his clothes and donate them to charity. He wanted all of his financial records scanned to disc and the originals destroyed. He even stipulated that I dispose of all his personal toiletries. He wanted the place spotless and ready for you to move in, when the time came. You taking over this house was very important to him.”
“And you were the one who had to do the cleanup and take care of all that? I’m sorry. I would’ve been happy to clean up. It’s the least I could do.”
“Oh, no. You don’t understand. My instructions were just to take care of the clothes, the bills, and dispose of a few things. There was no mess. Walter was the most fastidious person I’ve ever met. The house was immaculate. I think the most I had to do was pick up a couple of books that were lying around. Even the bathrooms were spotless. That’s just the way Walter was.”
Cyrus considered all of that. It was shocking how little he really knew of the old man. He knew some of Meade’s most closely guarded secrets, but that was entirely thanks to a chance encounter some years back. It bothered him that he would never have the chance to know the man better. He had enjoyed their discussions immensely, and it saddened him knowing there would be no further conversations. And it troubled him that Walter had passed some weeks ago, yet Cyrus had known nothing about it. He hadn’t even been able to attend the service.
“Anyway,” Reese said, this time she pulled Cyrus from his funk. “I’m starving. How about that bite to eat?”
“Absolutely. You pick the place, and I’m buying.”
That settled, they were ready to go. Before heading to the transport platform, Cyrus ran down to the basement. He wanted to lock up the vault before leaving, but it turned out not to be a concern. Once again, Meade had thought of everything. Activating the teleportation platform must have closed the vault door automatically.
That brought a question to mind. It was curious. Why two transport platforms in the house? One locked in the vault and one upstairs in the closet? The one in the closet seemed much more modern. The one in the vault almost looked like an early prototype. Given the archived records and the reels of film stored in the vault, it seemed the likely case. There must have been a reason Meade hadn’t used the old platform as his ‘daily driver.’ That seemed to be the function of the platform upstairs. It was just one of the many questions he intended for Reese.
He headed back upstairs. Reese was waiting in the spare bedroom. They entered the walk-in closet. This time, the large control panel Cyrus saw inside the door of the closet made more sense. It was a security panel just like the one beside the front door. Meade had installed it there so he could control the security system as he came and went, via the platform.
They stepped onto the platform together, toe-to-toe again. Reese’s close proximity caused his pulse to quicken, and he felt his skin warm. Actually, it was more than that. He could feel the heat from her body. The thought made his pulse quicken further. She could’ve stepped away if she wanted to, he was sure of it. There was enough room for the two of them on the platform, and she knew that he knew. Still, she didn’t move away. That decision wasn’t lost on him.
As before, Reese tapped a series of commands into her smartphone. This was another subject he wanted to discuss. The device in the vault had a simplistic but heavy-duty control panel. But it seemed she could control the modern platforms directly from her phone.
She looked up at him. The corners of her lips curled into a pert little smile. Yes, she could’ve moved away if she wanted.
Moments later there was a flash of light, a pop of his ears, and they were standing in the dark. This time the popping of his ears made sense. The house in Colorado was high up in the mountains, while just about everything in Santa Barbara was close to sea level. Although the teleportation was instantaneous and painless, the human body was still subject to the change in barometric pressure.
—————
Reese stepped from the transport platform first and made her way to the light switch in the dark. They were standing in the spare bedroom of her two-bedroom apartment. There was a small daybed against one wall and a small desk against the other. The transport platform took up a good portion of the remaining floor space.
“My turn to change,” she said. She pointed down the hall to the left. “The living room and kitchen are that way. Make yourself at home. I’ll only be a minute.”
She left Cyrus and turned the corner into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Walking across the room, she looked at herself in the mirror. Wonderful! No one looks their best at three o’clock in the morning. She changed out of her t-shirt, selecting a more presentable and form-fitting button-up top. She liked the way it accented her trim waist and full breasts. The top was a little low cut, but she liked that too. God, am I really doing this? She felt like a teenager again, which was silly. Then again, she was twenty-seven years old and hadn’t found time for dating in far too long. This infatuation was giving her a charge. What was the point in denying herself that harmless fun?
Turning back to the mirror, she pulled her hair from the ponytail and quickly brushed through it. Her raven black hair fell just past her shoulders. She’d been in a rush to get to the office after receiving the automated page on her phone earlier in the night. She’d thrown her hair up in her hurry to get out the door. But now they were going out. And, if she were honest with herself, she wanted to look her best. She was pretty sure she was getting a vibe from Cyrus and wanted to make the most of it.
Just as she was about to turn and head for the door, movement from behind caught her eye in the mirror. She turned with a start as a dark skinned man bolted from the darkness of the closet. He wore baggy clothes and a baseball cap, and he had something in his hand. She drew a breath to scream, but what he had in his hand prevented it.
The man lunged with a stun gun. It was a heavy duty, industrial weapon in the shape of a short baton. Before she could exhale a scream, he touched the end of the stun rod to her side jolting her instantly into unconsciousness.
Chapter 10
Santa Barbara, California
Wednesday, 1:44 am (2:44 am Colorado Time)
Cyrus stood on the balcony overlooking the empty beach ten stories below. Beyond the sand, a stunning full moon reflected back in the gently breaking waves of the wide open bay. What Reese’s apartment lacked in space was made up for with an impressive view. It must’ve been amazing to wake each morning to the sound of waves lapping at the shore. He could picture her sitting there drinking coffee and taking in the distant horizon.
The balcony was about fifteen feet wide and close to ten feet deep. Enough room for the small bistro table and chair set off to the side. A thick, wrought-iron handrail ran the perimeter of the balcony. Each apartment along that side of the fifteen-story building had a matching terrace. A privacy panel extended from the side of the building, secluding each balcony from the ones on either side. It offered some semblance of privacy in a building packed with hundreds of people. The apartment certainly had its selling points, mainly the beach and the view, but Cyrus would take the mountains of Colorado any day.
The sound of
movement inside the apartment drew him to glance over his shoulder. He expected Reese to be ready any moment.
“All set—” he started to ask as he did a double-take. It wasn’t Reese standing in the apartment, but two burly Latino men in dark baggy clothes, brandishing automatic rifles.
He had only a fraction of a second to take action before the two men opened fire. The balcony offered no protection at all. The tiny table and chair set would do nothing to stop an onslaught of automatic weapons fire, and advancing into the apartment was out of the question. He’d be running into a hail of bullets. His options severely limited, he turned his back on the gunmen, dropped his shoulder and ducked head first over the edge of the balcony. The sound of fully automatic gunfire filled the air even as his feet cleared the railing.
The two men stopped firing a few seconds later and just looked at each other, obviously shocked their target would choose a ten story swan dive over a bullet. One of the men nodded to the other and pointed to the balcony. He wanted his partner to check on the target.
“Really, Holmes?” The second shooter hissed. “Vato just took a header into the parking lot! He’s history!”
The first shooter responded by baring his teeth at the smaller man and pointing again to the ledge. He held his finger to his lips. Keep quiet, the obvious signal.
“Really? You’re worried about the noise? We just opened up on the whiteboy with ten pounds of lead! The deaf old lady next door just had a heart attack, and you want me to be quiet?”
But the look in the eye of the larger man left no room for debate. With a shake of his head, the smaller man headed for the balcony. He tromped through the broken glass—the remains of the sliding glass door—making no attempt at stealth.
—————
Cyrus was hanging on to the outside of the railing that surrounded the balcony. As he’d thrown himself over the rail, he’d grabbed at the heavy iron balusters, the evenly spaced vertical iron slats between the handrail and the floor of the balcony. His fall had finally been arrested when his slipping grip reached the base of the baluster in each hand. The side of his face, and then his chest, had smashed into the end of the concrete slab that comprised the balcony. It hurt like hell, but it was better than a ten-story fall onto the sandy beach below.
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