Off Kilter

by Glen Robins

  Then Chicago by sundown.

  * * * *

  London, England

  June 3

  Nic arrived in the office earlier than usual. But he wasn’t alone. Before he even made it to his cubicle, he was intercepted by Peter, the techno-geek from the dungeon. “You’re going to love me for this one,” he said with a measure of pride. “I found your man again. That Cook fellow. Remember him?”

  “Of course, how could I forget?”

  “Seems you’re not the only one who caught grief over the last episode. I can’t say he’s sitting there in a hotel room again, but at least I know where he landed yesterday.”

  “Oh yeah. What have you got?”

  “My little algorithm is still chugging away, inspecting everything that comes through. Remember our formula?”

  “What, you mean the 88 percent match?”

  “That’s right. It pulls off all images with an 88 percent match or better and sticks it in a file for review. I got a hit yesterday but didn’t think much of it. It was borderline. Rounded up to 88 percent. But then, this morning I get here, and there are two more texts telling me there’ve been two more hits. The one yesterday is from Buenos Aires International Airport. One from this morning was taken at Toronto Pearson; the other from the camera at the car hire counter at the Toronto airport. Wanna see them?”

  “Sure, show me what you’ve got.” Peter opened a file on the shared drive for Nic, who studied the images thoroughly, rewinding and replaying the video several times. “It definitely looks like him, doesn’t it? But he looks different than last time.”

  “Right, he does,” said Peter. “That’s why we’re only getting an 88 percent match,” said Peter. He clicked and tapped on the mouse, and a second image appeared. “See here. These are the measurements from the original photo. And these here are from this one,” he said, pointing to a set of white numbers that appeared on the screen between the two photographs. “The measurements of the distances between the eyes, the ears, and the nose are all the same. The main difference is in the color of the eyes—easy to change with contacts, right?—and the measurements of the jaw line. With prosthetics, it’s possible to alter these measurements enough to throw off facial recognition software.”

  “Are you saying he used prosthetics?”

  “If that’s your man, then yes. That’s what I’m saying.”

  “That’s a pretty crafty criminal, I’d say.”

  “I’d say so, too, but I’d hate to have another fiasco like last time, right?” said Peter.

  “Right. We’d have to be absolutely certain before we act on anything. How can we track him now?”

  “Well, let me do a bit of probing and see if we can get the plate number of the car he hired. Then we can scan all law enforcement cameras on the highways to see where he’s going.”

  “You’re a bloody genius, Peter. Let me know when you get some hits on the car.”

  “Will do, boss.”

  “I’m not your boss.”

  “Not yet.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Chicago, Illinois

  June 3

  Emily Burns paced the floor outside the packed room where she would momentarily be the guest speaker. This was something she had worked for, anticipated, dreamed about, and prepared for over the course of her career—the chance to present breakthrough results of her laboratory successes. This was exciting stuff, but her insides felt like they were being twisted in a vice. She knew her material and knew it well. There was no need to panic, just focus and relax. And practice that opening line one more time.

  The door swung open, and one of the convention volunteers smiled at her and nodded. It was show time. Once she entered the room and heard the applause, confidence replaced fear. She climbed the steps and strode to the podium, smiled, and delivered her opening line.

  “Research tells me there’s a doctor in the house.” The chuckles helped her relax a bit more. “And the doctor tells me to take two enhanced enzymes and call him in the morning.”

  From there she launched with grace and charisma into an explanation of the oddities within the protein chain she and her team had isolated. The dissertation was expert, the delivery impeccable, the results riveting. Emily was in her element and the facts and figures seemed to flow smoothly.

  At the end of her presentation, the crowd erupted in enthusiastic applause. Many attendees lined up to shake her hand, congratulating her on the excellent work, and thanking her for sharing.

  One man waited for the crush of people to dissipate, watching intently as she smiled and thanked the last well-wisher. She gasped as she turned and saw the bearded man moving purposefully toward her. Putting her hand to her mouth and looking toward the door with a slow-building sense of panic, Emily wanted to scream but couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. The man, though alone and watching her every move, was not threatening. She lowered her head and began to hurry toward the exit.

  “You seem pretty sure that your enhanced enzymes stopped the growth of the tumors. Are you sure it’s not the elevated toxicity of the environment post-injection? It could be just a temporary lull in the tumor growth,” the man said as he continued to draw near to her.

  Without stopping, Emily spoke confidently but continued moving toward the exit. “Definitely not. Once we isolated the enzyme and ran our tests, it became obvious to us, based on the reactions to the reagent, that it was not temporary, despite some elevated toxicity from the injection. Everything since then has pointed toward adherence to the enhanced enzyme,” she said.

  “I see,” said the man, adjusting his hat and glasses. He explained how he had read her paper and analyzed her conclusions. He praised her work, which, he said, spurred him to this conference. Nothing else was as interesting to him as her and her research.

  Her inner senses were ablaze, and she was half-paralyzed with fear, half-intrigued by the interest the handsome attendee displayed. Emily was caught somewhere between the desire to run and the desire to speak further with the curious visitor. His voice was soothing and sincere. As he spoke, her senses calmed. She felt as if this stranger wasn’t so strange. There was something warm and familiar about him. The more he talked, the stronger that feeling grew.

  Without any forethought, she blurted out, “Where did you say you’re from?”

  An awkward pause followed. “Oh, I’m sorry,” said the man. “I didn’t properly introduce myself, I’m afraid. I’d like to do so but, perhaps, over a cup of coffee, unless you’re otherwise occupied.”

  “I’d like that. I’m free until Dr. Nicholson’s speech at four o’clock.”

  The handsome stranger cocked his head to the side as a wry grin spread across his face. “May I walk with you?”

  Flattered, she tried to conceal the blush that she knew was warming her face. “That would be very nice. Thank you.”

  This was the closest thing she had had to a date in a year. Dr. Burns felt nervous and excited, guilty and honored all at once. She wasn’t prepared for this. She stopped in the ladies room to freshen up. Her beauty was natural and didn’t require much effort. At this point in her life, she was not looking for too much attention from the opposite sex. She was more or less happily married to her work. She also had thoughts of her friend and former sweetheart, Collin. No one else had ever caught her attention. Until now. This caused some guilt, but she shrugged it off. It was just a meeting to discuss science over coffee.

  She finished in the ladies room and headed to the coffee bar with the stranger.

  As they strolled down the long corridor, the man made casual conversation until they arrived at the counter and placed their orders. With their coffee cups in hand, the two found an empty table. A true gentleman, the man held her chair out and helped her scoot in before sitting opposite her.

  She stared at him for a moment, not sure how to restart the conversation. The man returned her gaze and smiled. He removed his glasses and set them on the table. “I owe you an answer to your earlier question,” h
e said, reaching for something in his pocket. He placed it on his thigh, turned his face toward his lap, and began poking his eyes with a finger. Then he fiddled with his mouth. When he sat up, he continued. “I, like you, am from Southern California. A nice little surfer hangout called Huntington Beach.”

  Her mouth fell open, and her eyes went wide. “Collin? Is that really you?” She stood and threw open her arms, working her way around the small table.

  He couldn’t hold back. He opened his arms wide and received her embrace; he returned it with the first hug he had given anyone since his wife’s and children’s funeral nearly a year before, holding on longer than the prescribed time. Emily’s cheek pressed against his, stirring old feelings in his barren, neglected shell. A sense of familiarity and connectedness ran through him like warm water. The reaction surprised him. Shocked him, really. He expected there to be hesitancy, or maybe reluctance, on her part. He didn’t expect this sort of reception. Not in this stodgy, clinical setting.

  Emily was unabashed. Her long lost friend, wounded and aching, had returned from a mysterious sojourn. She told herself to tone it down so as to not scare him away. She had no idea what he might be feeling or what he had gone through over the past several months. Pulling back from their long embrace, she looked him over.

  “You look great, Collin. Different but great.”

  “You didn’t recognize me when you saw me earlier?”

  “Not really. But at the same time, you looked so familiar.” With a quizzical look, she added, “Why did you do that?”

  Collin motioned for her to take her seat, then responded as he sat down. “Well, I guess I wasn’t sure how you would react to me. I knew you weren’t expecting me . . . and I didn’t want to get in your way before your big speech.” He kept to himself the fact that he also wanted to observe her without her knowing he was watching. He wanted—and was able—to see her behave in a natural way, in her element, without him around, and without knowing she was being watched. “You were terrific, by the way. I was really proud of you. I’m so impressed with the work you’ve done and the way you talk about it.”

  “Thank you. That means so much to me. The fact that you read my research is really quite flattering.”

  “Well, I had some extra time while I was traveling and wanted to see what you were so excited about. I can’t say I understand it, but what I understand is that your work is pretty amazing. It’s incredible what you’ve done,” he said.

  “Thank you. That means a lot to me. It really does.”

  “You’re doing it, Emily. You’re making a difference, just like you said you would.”

  “I don’t know. There’s still a long way to go.” She shook her head slowly. “I still can’t believe you’re here. There’s so much to talk about.” Emily reached out to touch Collin’s arm as her words came tumbling out. She prattled on about how good it was to see him, how surprised she was, how she had worried about him, and how sorry she was about what happened. It must have been awful for him. Then she stopped, mid-sentence, and realized what she was doing. She was acting like a teenager with no impulse control. She breathed in, held that breath, then exhaled slowly. “There,” she said. “I think I’m over my shock and ready to proceed in a more adult-like manner.” Her false seriousness was spoken with a hushed voice and a playful grin that spread across her face.

  Collin watched her with amusement. She was still energetic, bubbly, and oh-so beautiful when she was excited. Her gray-blue eyes danced as she spoke. He tried not to stare, but it was hard not to. She was still mesmerizing, even after all these years. Collin shifted his eyes to his hands. Forcing his mind to get back on task, he latched onto the memory of his plan and began reviewing it in his mind. After a moment of reflection, he realized that Emily had stopped talking and he had not responded. Sheepishly, he glanced up at her face, which was full of expectation as if she had asked him something crucial and was waiting for his answer.

  “Sorry. My mind wandered off for a moment,” he said. “It’s just that it’s so good to be here with you. I’m having trouble believing it myself.”

  “I was mostly rambling. But I did ask what your plans are while you’re in Chicago.”

  “Truthfully, I can’t stay. I’ll be heading out after this.”

  “Heading out? No. You’ve got to stay. We can go to one of those jazz bars after my dinner with the bosses.”

  He paused, rubbed his chin for a moment, then said, “Sold. I’ll stay for that.”

  Collin asked her more about her work and Emily, animated and vivacious, told him all about it. He enjoyed every word, although most of it went right over his head. Just hearing her speak, watching how passionate she was, and hearing her lovely, gravelly voice again, made the long, arduous trip from the depths of South America—and the risks involved with re-entering the United States—worthwhile.

  Emily paused, then asked, “Where have you been all this time?” It was not a harsh question, but one spoken with the concern of a good friend.

  “I told you, I’ve been wrapping up some business.”

  “You don’t expect to get away with such a brush-off answer, do you? Not with me?”

  “You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me.”

  Collin let out a sigh. He should have expected this; it was so like Emily to go straight to the hard questions and not back down until she had learned what she wanted to know.

  “Before we talk about me, can I just thank you for tracking down my parents and telling them about the accident? I’m sorry I was so out of it when you left. I think it was the pain medication. All I know is that the nurses didn’t know where they were or how to find them, but you tracked them down in Alaska. That’s pretty incredible.”

  “You can thank the power of social media for that little bit of research success.”

  “You’re being modest. I’m sure it took quite a bit of effort. Thank you.”

  “Glad I could help.”

  “I was barely aware that you had left the hospital, but I realized why when I woke up and saw my in-laws there. I mean, they’re wonderful people and all, but I’m sure it would have been awkward. I never had the chance to say thanks and tell you how much that meant to me.”

  “It was nothing. I wish I could have done more. I’m sure you would have done the same for me.” Emily thought back to that moment when she learned the truth of what happened to his wife and children. She had had to push aside the guilt, steel her emotions, then search for his parents, eventually finding them on an Alaskan cruise, and explain to them the awful circumstances surrounding their youngest son. When she had finally found a moment to rest at the side of Collin’s hospital bed and laid her head next to his hand, Amy’s parents pushed open the door and jumped to the nearest conclusion.

  “Things have been pretty rough for me ever since that day,” he said, looking at his hands on the table.

  Emily’s tone was reverent. “I can only imagine.”

  “My life has been turned upside down,” he said. His voice was low and somber.

  “I have worried about the role I played. I was so out of line that night, the night before it happened. I feel so terrible about what I did and the extra burden that must have caused you.”

  “Look, that was my fault.”

  “No, no. I was the one drinking and getting sloppy. I had no right to be so forward. It was stupid of me. I am so sorry, Collin.”

  “Don’t worry about it. What happened happened,” he said, still looking at his hands.

  “I appreciate you being such a decent man. That night and always.”

  This was not where he wanted this conversation to go. He had to get back on point and break the news about her Facebook page being watched by the bad guys. He looked up, glancing all around, and continued with a lower voice. “The truth is, Emily, I’m now a wanted man.”

  “Wanted? For what? By whom? How can that be?”

  “It’s a long, complicated story. I�
��ll tell you the whole thing someday, but this isn’t the right time or place. But, to answer your earlier question, I have literally been all over the world. You name it: Europe, the Caribbean, Central America, South America. I’ve been to a lot of places that I never . . .”

  His attention was diverted by someone three tables away, to his left. The man sat with a conference program held in front of him, peering over it now and then. He was just within Collin’s peripheral vision and became of such intense interest to Collin that he stopped speaking. When Collin glanced his way, moving his head slowly to the left, the program went back up and the man shifted in his seat.

  Collin rocked in the chair across from Emily, his elbows on the table, his arms folded over each other, his hands gripping his biceps. He was trying to control an involuntary shaking that was growing more pronounced. The grip tightened, his arms flexing in an effort to override the tremors. He didn’t utter a word or change expressions.

  Emily, too, was now in danger. He had to figure out a way to get her out of this mess. He looked back at her and found her eyes peering into his own, searching. He felt something deep inside that had long lain dormant. It felt so good to be with her, to hear her talk, to look into her eyes. He wanted it to continue but knew it couldn’t. There were things happening around him. Around them. Something was brewing, and he didn’t like it. The calm before the storm was coming to an end.

  Collin’s eyes darted from Emily’s face to the guy with the program. Something wasn’t right. He couldn’t stand it any longer. He had to get both of them out of there.

  Collin arose so suddenly and so forcefully that as his legs extended, they sent his chair tumbling behind him, creating a thundering crash as the metal chair collided with the marble tile. Emily let out a shrill scream. Turning in all directions to survey the startled crowd, Collin made haste to collect his things. He checked to see who moved in his direction as he put his arms through the straps of his backpack and slung the computer bag over his back.