Wired

by Douglas E. Richards

  “Twelve minutes is plenty of time for me to reset it; which I fully intend to do. I just wanted to tell you personally that you’ll soon be greatly outnumbered, and urge you to surrender when my men arrive.”

  Desh spoke into the microphone of his walkie-talkie. “Colonel, possible incoming hostiles converging on our position. Do you have a visual?”

  There was no answer.

  “Colonel, come in.” He paused and lifted the tiny microphone to his mouth. “Come in,” he said anxiously. “Say again, possible incoming hostiles.”

  “What’s the matter, Desh?” taunted Putnam. “No answer?”

  “What did you do!” demanded Kira in alarm.

  “You think my men wouldn’t spot a fucking RV?” said Putnam contemptuously. “That thing’s a monstrosity.”

  “What did you do!” persisted Kira.

  “As it turns out, absolutely nothing, my dear. Your friend the colonel did it to himself.”

  “Did what to himself?” snapped Desh.

  “When my people boarded the RV, your colonel friend was hiding in the bedroom. Thought he’d be cute and wear electronic earplugs and goggles and toss out a stun grenade. He figured he would recover his sight and hearing before we did.” Putnam shook his head in amusement. “He didn’t count on the vibration knocking him off his feet. His head slammed into the corner of an end table. Killed him instantly.” He paused, milking the moment. “It wasn’t pretty.”

  The four intruders traded horrified glances. Even Kira and Griffin, who hadn’t known the colonel very well, looked ill at the loss of such a good man.

  Putnam made a show of looking at his watch. “You have five minutes to come out with your hands raised,” he said. “After that my men will come in after you.” The corners of his mouth turned up in a cruel smile. “But I really have to go now, my dear. If I’m late resetting that little device in your head, I might end up with brain splatter on my drapes.” He raised his eyebrows. “Can’t have that, can we?”

  Kira raised her gun and pointed it at Putnam. “Don’t take another step!” she growled.

  “Or what?” he said scornfully. “You’re going to shoot me?” He shook his head and laughed. “You’re going to give yourself five minutes to live? You’re going to kill the only chance you have to keep the lid on Pandora’s box? I don’t think so.”

  A bullet exploded from Kira’s gun and tore through Putnam’s chest, slamming him back against the door. “Think again,” she whispered, her face a mask of rage. She walked toward him and emptied the entire magazine into his body.

  “Kira, what are you doing!” screamed Desh.

  “He had to die,” she spat hatefully.

  Kira Miller turned away from the body and gathered herself. “David, take Putnam’s escape tunnel and get out of here. Using my treatment the three of you can stop Putnam’s plot. I know you can. But with the leverage he had over me, I was hurting our chances. Beat this bastard and then carry out your vision. You’re a good man. I have confidence in you.”

  Desh said nothing, but reached out to hold her. She melted into his arms and several tears escaped from her eyes and ran down her cheeks.

  “David,” she whispered, still in his arms, “I’m going to give you the GPS coordinates to my flash drive. If for some reason you aren’t able to stop the virus, I’m counting on you to give the secret of longevity to the world.”

  Kira Miller wiped away her tears with the back of her hand and focused with all of her heart on unlocking her memory. Not because some external force was demanding it, but because she wanted to give it freely. To this man. A man she had come to trust and admire. Her instincts in choosing David Desh had been perfect. Had things been otherwise, who knew where their relationship might have led.

  She gasped. Like a dam bursting, her memory came flooding back into her mind!

  Kira cupped her hands around Desh’s ear and whispered the coordinates. She repeated the coordinates several times until Desh was able to whisper them back to her. Even if he forgot them, she knew, his enhanced mind would remember them with perfect clarity, along with the exact feel of her breath in his ear and her exact pronunciation of every number.

  Now she knew that her life extension discovery would live on, even if she didn’t. And Desh would only reveal it if Putnam’s plan couldn’t be stopped. She was certain of it.

  Kira pushed Desh away as several more tears began to slide down her face. “You need to keep your distance,” she said.

  It was 9:59 and the second hand on Desh’s watch was sweeping around the dial at a sickening pace. “Kira, you’re the most extraordinary woman I have ever known,” said Desh with absolute sincerity.

  She forced a brave smile for the benefit of Desh and the two other members of the team. “Thanks. I just hope I was wrong about that afterlife thing,” she said.

  And with that, Kira Miller closed her eyes and awaited oblivion.

  46

  Kira’s three companions closed their eyes with her. Precious seconds continued ticking.

  An explosion rocked the room!

  It was intense beyond reason. The flash from the explosion was as bright as a supernova and blinded everyone in the room, even through closed eyelids.

  Desh realized he couldn’t hear and then instantly realized something else: the explosion had been from a stun grenade, not from the device in Kira’s head.

  He swung around to defend himself but it was too late. Two men grabbed him roughly, one of them pressing a gun to his face. The other pulled his arms behind his back and tightened an all too familiar plasticuff restraint around his wrists. He knew not to resist. Deaf and blind with a gun in your cheek was not an ideal tactical position in which to be. He was pushed roughly into the wall and was frisked expertly, his weapons quickly removed.

  Desh’s eyesight and hearing gradually returned. The room began to come into focus once again.

  Kira Miller was standing next to him! Alive! And it was after 10 o’clock.

  Desh and Kira had been forced next to each other, flanked by two armed commandoes who had each worn electronic earplugs and goggles during the raid. Griffin and Metzger had been herded together about ten yards away, flanked by their own heavily armed guards. Putnam’s bloody, bullet riddled body lay between the two groups.

  The commandoes must have arrived through Putnam’s tunnel in the basement, Desh realized, lobbing in a few flashbangs to easily overpower the inhabitants of the living room.

  A handsome, clean-cut civilian of average size and weight, wearing casual slacks and a sport coat walked briskly and arrogantly into the living room. His blue eyes were eerily calm, but there was also both a shrewdness and a menace to them; like those of a poisonous snake just before a strike.

  Kira Miller gasped! She reached out to steady herself, having momentarily become dizzy.

  “Alan?” she croaked in dismay, barely able to get the name out.

  “Hello, Kira,” he said cheerfully. “Happy to see your big brother alive?”

  Kira was too stunned to reply. She stood facing him with her mouth open.

  “Or just happy that the device Putnam put in your skull was a bluff?”

  Kira’s mind awakened from its paralysis. She didn’t understand. Anything. Her brother was alive! And Putnam’s bomb had been a bluff! Her emotions were at such a fever pitch she was afraid she would explode after all.

  “Search their pockets carefully,” Alan Miller instructed the men. “If any of them have small pills on them, it’s important they be found.”

  The men conducted a full body search and quickly found the gellcaps Desh and Metzger were carrying in their pockets. The soldiers handed them to a delighted Alan Miller. He pocketed the gellcaps and turned to his sister. “Thanks, Kira. I can use all of these I can get.”

  “What’s going on Alan?” pleaded Kira, recovering some of her equilibrium.

  Her brother grinned. “Isn’t it remarkable. As brilliant as you are and you have no fucking clue.” He sighed
. “I suppose I can spoon feed it to you. But not here. Let’s adjourn to more comfortable surroundings—at least for me,” he said, quite pleased with himself.

  As he finished speaking the all-too-familiar sound of helicopters filled the living room. “Right on schedule,” noted Alan. He gestured to the front door. “After you,” he said.

  Two commandoes raised automatic weapons and motioned them toward the door.

  “What about them?” said Kira, gesturing to Griffin and Metzger.

  Alan frowned. “They won’t be coming with,” he shouted over the incoming helicopters. “We’ll see. If I think I can use them as leverage with you, perhaps I’ll let them live out the day.”

  Alan Miller exited the house with his sister and Desh in tow as three helicopters landed on Putnam’s property. The two outer choppers were of military design, but the one in the middle was civilian. It was white with red accents and was roughly the same size as a Blackhawk. The word Sikorsky was printed tastefully on its shell. This model was very exclusive, the type used by CEOs and heads of state, and could seat up to ten passengers in decadent luxury.

  Alan nodded at the commandoes. “Secure them,” he ordered.

  The soldiers opened the door to the chopper and pushed the two captives inside. The passenger compartment was truly spectacular: more opulent than the most luxurious limousine. There was enough headroom to walk through the cabin comfortably, a fully stocked bar, lacquered wood cabinetry, mirrors and inlaid video screens. The seats were all cushioned captain’s chairs covered by the finest leather, with burled walnut finishes, separated from each other by spacious armrests with compartments for wine glasses and phones.

  Desh moved! He head butted one of the commandoes to the floor of the cabin and threw his shoulder into the other, slamming him against the cockpit door. The man on the floor recovered with remarkable rapidity and rammed his rifle into the back of Desh’s leg. Desh fell to his knees. By this time the other soldier had recovered and landed a fierce blow to Desh’s face. He then clutched a fistful of Desh’s hair and threw him back into a captain’s chair at the back of the Sikorsky. “Don’t try that again, asshole,” growled the solider. “Next time I won’t be so gentle.”

  The soldiers proceeded to bind the two prisoners securely to the chairs. As an added precaution one of the men strung razor wire across the aisle just below their chins. If they moved forward the wire would slice into their necks.

  When his men reported that all was secure, Alan Miller entered the helicopter and nodded for the commandoes to leave. He opened the door to the cockpit. “Make sure we aren’t being followed,” he directed the pilot. “Let me know if you see anything suspicious.”

  Alan closed the cockpit door and walked a few paces to the bar. He added several ice cubes to a cocktail glass and then calmly, deliberately, filled it with equal parts Scotch and club soda as though he didn’t have a care in the world. Finally he sat across from his sister and Desh and took a sip of his drink, closing his eyes to savor it.

  “Now, that’s more like it,” he said. “No reason not to be civilized,” he added smugly.

  He reached out and rapped on the cabin door twice, and moments later the helicopter lifted off.

  “Finally,” said Alan Miller, “we can have a private conversation. The pilots can’t hear anything being said in this compartment.”

  The all-enclosed cabin was carefully designed to keep the din of the helicopter blades from encroaching, and Kira realized they would be able to converse without shouting. Executives demanded a quiet ride and had the money to ensure they got it.

  Kira was wounded to the depths of her soul. The pain in her eyes was profound. “It was you all along,” she said numbly to her brother.

  He nodded. “For someone so brilliant, you don’t catch on very fast,” he commented.

  “My teachers,” she said weakly. “Mom and Dad. Uncle Kevin. It was you?”

  Alan grinned. “Who else?” he said proudly. “But don’t beat yourself up. I was the model big brother around you. A perfect angel. Otherwise, I’m sure you’d have at least considered a possibility so obvious it could have bit you in the ass.”

  Kira trembled and for a moment thought she might vomit. “Did anyone suspect?” she croaked.

  “Of course,” he said. “How could they not? But I was clever. I did most of my killing away from home. And I knew enough to cultivate a saintly image around you. You had the potential to be my Achilles’ heel. I couldn’t kill you, that would arouse too much suspicion after the other deaths. Yet if I let you glimpse my true nature, I was sure you would put two and two together and turn me in.” He paused. “Look at the Unabomber. Brought down by his own brother.” He shook his head in mock disgust. “Whatever happened to sibling loyalty?”

  A tear ran down Kira Miller’s face. She had thought that nothing could hurt her more than she had already been hurt. But she was wrong. This was the older brother she had adored. But he had been a psychopath all the while. His had been the ultimate betrayal, and he had made a fool of her. How could she have been so blind!

  “What’s wrong, Kira?” he said, sneering. “Thought you were a better judge of human nature?” His lip curled up in contempt. “You were so easy to fool. So needy.”

  “You’re a monster,” she whispered, now loathing the creature in front of her and loathing herself even more for having cared for him so deeply.

  Alan laughed. “Someone had to balance out your nauseating self-righteousness,” he replied. “But you know how it is. Us psychopaths don’t really see anything wrong with our behavior. And if it makes you feel any better, Mom and Dad’s life insurance policy was a great leg up for a struggling college student.”

  She glared at him hatefully. “So you murdered Mom and Dad and then pretended to come to my rescue. So I would adore you even more.”

  Alan smiled serenely.

  “And then you framed me in a way that would lead people to believe that I was a psychopath and responsible for these murders. Murders that you had committed.”

  “Nice touch, don’t you think?”

  “The worst part of it all,” she said in disgust, “is that you made me care about you. I loved you!” She turned her eyes away. “And you made me think I had caused your death,” she added in outrage.

  “Well, now you know better,” he replied smoothly. “So cheer up.”

  47

  Thin shades made of cherry-wood, which could be raised or lowered with the touch of a button, were completely covering the chopper’s large windows, giving the prisoners no indication as to their heading. The helicopter’s ride was so smooth and the noise so unobtrusive it was easy to forget they were flying.

  “So how do you fit into all of this?” asked Desh.

  “Fascinating story,” said Alan, amused. “I was visiting my dear little sister in her condo in La Jolla while she was working for NeuroCure. Naturally, she insisted I stay at her place. She always did. After all, she truly adored me.”

  Kira’s eyes blazed in fury at this but she remained silent.

  “She had to go into work a few times,” continued Alan. “So, as is my nature, I thought I would explore her place. See what I could find. Didn’t take me long to find her false bottomed drawer with her lab notebook and gellcaps inside.” He paused. “So I tried one,” he said simply. “It didn’t take a super-genius, which I soon became, to grasp the possibilities.”

  Desh frowned. “So you decided to stage a break-in and steal them all.”

  “Not right away,” replied Alan with an air of superiority. “I waited until a few months after my visit so my sister would never suspect I was responsible. And I didn’t just take the gellcaps. I took a sample of Kira’s hair as well, in case I ever needed it to frame her.” He looked quite pleased with himself. “I like to plan ahead.”

  Desh shook his head in disgust. He had used a strand of the hair he had taken to frame her for his own murder.

  “Then I waited a few days and killed Kira’s
boss to throw her a head fake,” said Alan. “When you’re under the influence of her treatment, things become crystal clear. I was certain that if I killed Morgan, she would jump to the conclusion that he had stolen the pills and was double-crossed by a powerful partner.”

  Desh knew this was the exact conclusion Kira had reached. “And then you hired Lusetti to watch her.”

  “I thought it best to leave her alone to make other ah … mind-blowing … discoveries, and then swoop in and steal these as well. Meanwhile, I was using her pills judiciously to set up my empire.”

  “Where does Putnam fit in?” asked Desh.

  “As I’m sure you’re aware, with intelligence this great fortunes can be amassed in any number of ways,” he replied, swirling his drink around absently. “But if power is your drug, pulling strings at the most powerful intelligence gathering organization in the history of mankind has certain advantages.”

  “But why Putnam? Did you know him?”

  Alan shook his head. “While using Kira’s therapy, I broke into the personal computers of a number of mid-level NSA operatives. Putnam was one of them. We were like-minded and he was particularly savage. I was able to dig up enough dirt on him to guarantee him the death sentence several times over. So I recruited him and masterminded his climb up the ladder. We made a great team.”

  “Did you give him any gellcaps?” asked Kira.

  “Of course not,” he snapped disdainfully. “Do I look like an idiot. Putnam was far too ruthless and ambitious to be trusted. If he ever became transformed, I was certain he would find a way to turn the tables on me.” He paused. “The only person I ever allowed to become transformed, other than myself, was a molecular biologist Putnam was blackmailing. And this was done under extraordinarily secure conditions, and only to ensure I would have an unlimited supply of your treatment.”

  “So when Putnam was boasting about his activities, he was really describing what you had done,” said Desh.

  “That’s right,” he replied. “We rehearsed everything he said to you. I even instructed him to kill the man you know as Smith in front of you. Putnam had no idea why I wanted him to pretend to be me.” Alan sneered. “But he knew better than to question me,” he added icily.