46
Nick Hall sat quietly in Marc Fisher’s family room, sipping from a bottle of water he had taken from the refrigerator.
The politician must have hired an expensive interior decorator, and it showed, although there was nothing avant-garde in his furnishings, oil paintings, and knickknacks, just simple, understated elegance. The color white predominated, which Hall suspected wasn’t an accident. The color of cleanliness and virginity. Of purity and piety. The man’s attempt at projecting the opposite of his true nature.
Fisher was taking a long shower, relishing the prospect of mixing himself a Manhattan and learning what bodies his mind-reading puppet had managed to dig up this time.
And given that Hall finally admitted he could read mind after mind without pause, and the target-rich environment he was in, this would truly be the mother lode.
Fisher finally finished showering and strode into the room in which Hall waited, his hair still wet. He stopped short upon seeing his visitor sitting calmly on the couch.
“Hello, Frank Earnest,” said Hall evenly. “Or should I just call you, Marc?”
Hall was struck by how quickly Fisher assimilated the situation. The man truly had ice-water in his veins, because the new reality barely threw him. He was outwardly the picture of calm as he weighed options and made calculations at dizzying speed.
“Nick Hall,” he said warmly. “I’ll be damned. Welcome to my home. But a report over the phone would have been fine,” he added with a predatory smile. “You really didn’t need to go to the trouble of meeting with me in person.”
“Yeah, Marc. I did. I really, really did.”
“I paid big for a computerized state-of-the-art security system. But I guess it wasn’t made to keep out someone capable of reading how to deactivate it from the owner’s mind.”
“I guess not.”
“I assume you’ve managed to free Megan, or you wouldn’t have come here?”
Hall nodded. “That’s right.”
Fisher knew his mind was being read, but he couldn’t stop his thoughts from coming as they normally would. In a flash, Fisher reasoned that Hall had to have had help. Even with his abilities, escaping his guards in DC, freeing Megan in Tucson, and coming here, all within eight hours, took considerable resources. Resources that only the military could provide. And it couldn’t have been his benefactor, Justin Girdler, because Girdler was on the run.
If Fisher had to guess, he would guess Mike Campbell had helped him, something he intended to investigate as soon as Hall left. If this was the case, he would see to it that Campbell was roasted like a pig on a spit.
Hall was impressed by the speed and accuracy of Fisher’s assessments. Evil. But not stupid.
The politician continued to weigh options, which included finding a way to reach the gun he had hidden on the premises. But just after he had this idea he smiled and thought, You read that, Nick, didn’t you?
“Yes,” said Hall. “You can’t surprise me, as you know better than anyone. And I can’t help but be offended that you, a good Samaritan looking out for the country like you are, would consider killing me.”
Fisher ignored this. “Congratulations on your escape,” he said. “So what was my mistake?”
Hall told him.
“Nicely played,” said Fisher, genuinely impressed, after Hall explained about the 520 area code. “You know, I kept Megan’s location a secret just to err on the side of caution. But I really never imagined you’d be able to free her, even if you knew exactly where she was. Or that you’d even have the balls to try.”
He leaned in toward Hall intently. “But why are you here?” he continued. “I don’t see any cops. So I take it you’re not pressing charges,” he added smugly. “Actually, I might just call the cops myself and have you arrested for breaking and entering.” Fisher’s lips slid back into a cruel smile, quite pleased with himself.
“You aren’t worried about what I’ve read in that sick mind of yours?”
Fisher shrugged. “I’ll remain at large no matter what you try to throw at me. Count on it. The man I hired won’t turn on me. And you won’t press kidnapping charges. You have no proof, and you aren’t about to let yourself become a back-from-the-dead celebrity. As for the rest of what you have on me, you can slow me down. Depending on what you bring, you can cause me considerable trouble. And it’s true your escape has reduced the certainty that I’ll be the next president.” He flashed his soulless smile once again. “But I still like my chances. A lot.”
“I could kill you,” said Hall evenly.
Fisher laughed. “You probably could, Nick. But you won’t. You’re not wired like me. You’re bound by a conscience that prevents you from doing sensible things. That’s why I’ll always win. Because I don’t let society or wiring tie one hand behind my back.”
He shrugged. “And if I were to tragically pass away,” he added, “all the dirt you gathered on our beloved political class will be automatically released at once. Throw the entire country into a tailspin. And you wouldn’t want that.”
“It won’t be released automatically. Lying is like breathing for you, isn’t it? Even knowing I can read minds, you can’t help yourself. You didn’t create a failsafe data dump in case you were killed. You told those whom you’re blackmailing that you did. But you were bluffing. You knew they’d believe you and wouldn’t dare lay a finger on you.” He shook his head. “Did you really think I’d believe anything you said without checking?”
“I was hoping, yes. But my little test didn’t work out. No matter.” Fisher paused. “So let me ask again, what are you doing here? Because we both know you won’t kill me.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” said Hall. “You’re forgetting I’ve been in your head. I know exactly what you’ve done, and what you are. You’re an abomination. I know that you were planning to kill me and Megan the moment you were certain of victory. So the way I see it, the classic moral dilemma discussed in philosophy and ethics classes comes into play. If you could kill Hitler when he was a boy, knowing what he would become, would you?”
“I’m hardly Adolf Hitler,” said Fisher smoothly. “He killed many millions. Me, just a few.”
“Only because the circumstances are different. We both know if you had been in Germany and had the chance to do everything Hitler did, except this time come out victorious, you wouldn’t hesitate.”
Hall could read that Fisher was eager for this visit to be over. He would make himself the Manhattan he had long been imagining, sit down, and begin planning, making sure any loose ends he had left were tidied up before Hall could bring any investigations. If Hall would even go to the trouble, knowing Fisher would just worm his way out of them.
“This has been really nice,” said Fisher. “And thanks for the philosophical discussion. But I have a lot to do. So let me see you to the door.”
Hall rose and walked to the door himself. He opened it and then turned to face Fisher. “You’ve lost, Marc. You’re going down. And I’m going to take you there.”
Fisher’s lips curled into a humorless smile. “I’m afraid not, Nick. You’re weak. And I’m strong. And I’ve already won.”
Hall took a long look at the most vile man he had ever met and sighed. “Others have underestimated me before,” he said. “And I have no doubt you’ll do the same.” A weary smile came to his face. “Goodbye, Marc. Enjoy your sense of triumph while you can.”
47
Hall exited Fisher’s home and shut the door behind him.
He strolled to the ocean, standing at the intersection of surf and sand, and watched the last of the sun vanish beneath the Western horizon, letting the beauty wash over him.
He was at peace with the world. Fisher could do untold damage as president. And while he wasn’t Adolph Hitler, he was close enough. Hall had seen the mark of the beast on this man.
No matter how Hall had analyzed the famous moral dilemma, he had come to the same conclusion. He would kill Hitler when
the genocidal maniac was a boy. He wouldn’t want to. He would fully expect to go to hell for doing so. But he would.
And he would kill Marc Fisher as well.
It was the only way. He had come to this conclusion in the helicopter, but had seen no reason to drag Mike Campbell into it with him.
As he watched the waves coming in he continued to monitor Fisher. So smug. So sure he would recover. So certain he knew what Hall would and wouldn’t do.
The man wasted little time before mixing himself the Manhattan he so desperately longed for. It never occurred to him to check the small vial of botulism toxin he kept hidden at this residence so it would be available if he ever needed it again. It never occurred to him that Hall would dig through his mind to find this piece of circumstantial evidence tying him to the most heinous of his crimes.
Hall watched the cocktail glass come to Fisher’s lips, seeing it through the man’s own eyes. Fisher took a sip, sighed in contentment, and set the glass back down on his table.
Fifteen seconds later, as he was rolling on the floor, struggling to take a next breath that refused to come no matter how great his efforts, he finally understood. Hall read in his mind that with his last thought, he realized that he had, indeed, underestimated his former prisoner.
And that this would be the last mistake he would ever make.
Hall waited five minutes and then reentered the house. He filled Fisher’s oversized bathtub to the brim, pulled the plug, and then with extraordinary care, emptied the remaining cocktail and open bottle of bourbon into the water. The toxin in the tiny unmarked vial had already been diluted millions-fold, and the further dilution of the single drop he had used to poison the bourbon into a hundred and twenty gallon tub was more than enough to render it harmless.
His research also indicated that the toxin was heat sensitive, so he carefully placed the vial on top of a fake gas log in Fisher’s fireplace and turned it on, letting the remaining toxin roast in the thousand-degree heat for thirty minutes, many times the temperature and length of time required for inactivation. He then recovered the tiny unmarked vial with an oven mitt and threw it in the trash.
Hall spent a few more minutes making sure he had left no fingerprints behind. Finally, satisfied, he exited the premises for the last time, disposed of Fisher’s trash in a nearby dumpster, and called a cab to take him back to the military base at Miramar and the woman he loved.
PART 5
Victor
“A man does what he must—in spite of personal consequences, in spite of obstacles and dangers and pressures—and that is the basis of all human morality.”
—Winston Churchill
48
Mike Campbell worked his magic securing military transportation and before midnight he, Heather, Megan, and Hall were back in Altschuler’s mansion. They all took much-needed showers, and Campbell asked Hall not to shave off the beard he had grown while in DC. The colonel was expert at applying hair dye, fake tattoos, and makeup, and with Hall’s beard in place promised to transform him into someone not even his closest friends would recognize.
Hall made love to Megan and they spent almost an hour comparing notes on their captivity. They discussed what they had been thinking and feeling. How they had managed to cope, to survive the boredom, and to combat their growing fears that they would eventually die as prisoners.
Megan was impressed with Hall’s ingenious and daring rescue, but not surprised, although she was pretty sure he had set a record for having flown in a wider variety of military aircraft in a single day than any civilian in history. Both had found that being forced apart, unsure if they would ever be reunited, had further intensified their feelings for each other. Finally, after one of the longest days either had ever experienced, they could not hang on to consciousness any longer and fell into a blissful slumber.
When they awoke in the late morning they made love once again, and Hall explained his plan to put a metaphorical cow bell on his implants when he was with her so she would know when he was using the Web.
He explained that while he was in DC, cut off from the Internet and cut off from her, it had become abundantly clear to him which one of these he could live without, if necessary, and which one he absolutely could not.
As they lay naked in each other’s arms Hall said, “I did a lot of thinking on the Eos just before we were captured. A lot. Thinking about our future together. I never raised the subject of marriage since we haven’t know each other all that long, and I know you aren’t a big fan of this institution.” He kissed her gently on the cheek. “But screw it,” he said with a defiant tone. “I’m done worrying about that. Done second-guessing myself. I’ve decided you have to marry me.” He grinned. “And I’m not giving you a choice.”
“Please tell me that’s not your actual proposal,” said Megan, rolling her eyes.
Hall gazed at her soft, expressive features, and swallowed hard. “No. Of course not,” he lied. “How lame do you think I am?”
“Good to know. Because proposing while we’re both naked is pretty pathetic. Bad form.”
“Really?” said Hall. “Who made up that rule?”
“I don’t know. It just seems like it should be a rule. You never see a guy propose to a girl when their naked bodies are wrapped around each other in the movies.”
“Of course not. Because you’d have to be watching a porn movie. And that genre isn’t really big on romance—or monogamy.” He grinned. “Don’t worry, I plan to get a ring and be clothed when I finally make the official romantic gesture.”
“And I don’t have any say in this?”
“None,” said Hall playfully.
“Okay then,” said Megan, a wry smile on her face. “I guess that will make my decision easier.” She pulled away from him and stood, preparing to dress. “But for now, we really should go downstairs and get to work finding Alex.”
Hall nodded his agreement.
“And out of deference to Heather, since her fiancé is missing and possibly dead, let’s avoid any displays of affection.”
Hall laughed. “Out of deference to Heather? I have the feeling it’s the colonel we’ll have to worry about. I think he’d probably shoot us if we started getting too affectionate.”
They spent the bulk of the day with Heather and the colonel, sharing details of their ordeal and being brought up to speed on the hunt for Altschuler, which had so far been fruitless.
The group took a break for dinner while Mike Campbell left to attend to some duties. He rejoined them later that evening. “I heard something interesting on the news,” he said when they had reconvened, locking his eyes on Hall as if he were studying him under a microscope. “You’ll never guess what.”
The two female members of the group appeared eager to hear what it was, but Hall’s interest was far more subdued.
“Turns out they found Marc Fisher dead this morning in his home in La Jolla.”
Heather and Megan reacted with shock and dismay, while Nick Hall’s expression remained unreadable.
“The authorities aren’t sure what happened,” continued Campbell. “But for now they believe he died of natural causes.” He eyed Hall with a suspicion bordering on certainty. “What do you think about that, Nick?”
“Interesting,” grunted Hall. “What are the odds?” he added woodenly, unable to put his heart into faking surprise despite the content of his words. “But I have to say,” he continued with a sudden intensity, his expression a mixture of contempt and disgust, “the world is lucky to be rid of this asshole. Like Hitler, Stalin, Saddam Hussein, and other monsters before him.”
“Funny coincidence,” said Campbell. “You were near his home last night right about when it happened. I’m guessing you weren’t around when he passed on, or you would have read the distress in his mind.”
“Must have just missed it,” said Hall unconvincingly. “Must have been cabbing it back to Miramar at the time.”
Campbell raised his eyebrows, clearly not believing
this for a single instant. He studied Hall for several seconds. “Well, that’s good enough for me,” he said finally. He shook his head and just the hint of a smile crossed his face, an unspoken, I don’t know how you did it, but remind me to stay on your good side.
“Nick?” broadcast Megan telepathically. “What happened?”
Hall had told her all about the soulless, psychopathic Marc Fisher, about his disease-ridden mind, his many crimes, and his plans to become leader of the free world. But Hall hadn’t told her that he had decided to end the man, taking the law into his own hands.
“We can talk more about Fisher tonight,” he responded telepathically, letting out a heavy sigh. “We had too much catching up to do last night. And today, I wanted to, um . . . you know, discuss marriage with you.”
“What? You didn’t think, ‘I murdered a man yesterday, will you marry me?’ made a great proposal? And I thought proposing while naked was bad form.”
“Could you still love me if you knew I did it?” broadcast Hall, his expression grim.
There was a brief pause. “Given what you’ve told me about him . . . probably. But I want to know everything.”
“You will.”
Hall vaguely heard his name being called several times by the colonel, but he had been too engrossed in his telepathic conversation to hear. “Sorry, Colonel,” he said. “I must have checked out for a moment. Could you repeat that?”
“I was saying that I had done a lot of thinking after I dropped you off and returned to the base. And I had come to the conclusion that unless Fisher, you know, mysteriously died, he could do considerable damage to the country and world. So I’ve decided this really is for the best. I’m not a spiritual man. But maybe this is karma. Or maybe God does exist, and decided Marc Fisher really needed to go.”
“You never know,” said Hall, and hatred and disgust flashed across his face at just the thought of the man.
“They say the Lord works in mysterious ways,” said the colonel. He nodded very slowly at his mind-reading friend. “Maybe this time I got to witness one of these mysterious ways in action.”
BrainWeb Page 26