Death & Other Lies

by Carol L. Ochadleus

  “Yeah, but he wasn’t sure which cemetery we would be at. We searched nearly a dozen before we found the right one. It could be days before they figure out where we stopped and then figure out where we are.” Lilly voiced both their concerns.

  “True, but you know Ben, he’s a bulldog. He’ll find us,” Kate assured her twin.

  Not wanting to make painful contact with the ceiling again, Kate felt her way up the web covered wall, mentally shaking off any thoughts of which deadly spiders liked dark spaces, and determined the roof was about five feet tall. She couldn’t stand, but she might be able to get her face closer to the crack above Lilly’s head.

  “Move over a little; I want to see what’s outside.” It was painful to turn her head sideways, and the slit was only a few inches from the ceiling. She was, however, able to distinguish the shape of some barren looking trees around her. “I can see something. Nothing in my line of vision to get us out of here ... but at least I think I know where we are. Remember the vaults over by the scrubby woods, behind Eddy’s grave; we saw them on our way in?”

  “Oh great, they aren’t even close to the road.” Lilly groaned. “We can yell ourselves silly, and no one is going to hear us.”

  “Uh, well, yeah that could be a problem.” Kate acknowledged. “This wasn’t a well-tended end of the cemetery. Probably aren’t too many caring friends and family that head out here, I don’t remember seeing many flowers, do you?”

  “Nope, but the weeds were pretty tall, someone should be coming around sooner or later to cut them, you know. Although that probably won’t do us much good, trying to yell over the sound of a tractor.”

  “Okay, okay, got any better ideas, Miss Optimistic?”

  “Yeah, stop talking. We’re both using up too much air.” Lilly was right, but Kate did notice she could breathe better up near the slit, so they might be okay a while longer if they stayed near the crack and didn’t panic.

  DR. NOWAK HAD WAITED as long as he could for Matt to return from his vacation, and after the four weeks was up and no word from Matt, he knew something was seriously wrong. Matt wouldn’t just change his mind and disappear without a damn good explanation. The Washington office wanted a body to fill the position, and without any more options, Jeff regrettably offered the position to Phil. God how he hated seeing the smugness in his eyes. If he didn’t know better, he might think Phil had something to do with Matt being a no-show. The guy was a little shit, but he couldn’t believe he would be that malicious. While Phil was gleefully packing his personal belongings, Dr. Nowak was on the phone with the police. He wanted to report Matt’s absence in the hope they could trace his whereabouts. Since there was no immediate family, he felt it was his responsibility to at least begin a search for the guy.

  The police took all the information about Matt, and what little Jeff could offer about Matt’s itinerary and plans and ran some preliminary checks. No one matching his name or description came up on the Philly police system. No hospital or police records were found to give them any help. Jeff remembered what Matt said about looking for a new place to live in Washington and suggested the police check around the D.C. area as well. The police promised to link up with other departments and see what could be found. Jeff was concerned, as well as curious. Matt was a good guy, with a few problems sometimes, but he liked him and sincerely wanted to know what happened. When all of their queries through the regular channels came back negative, the police decided to check out his apartment to look for evidence of foul play.

  FRED LAFFERTY WAS SURPRISED and more than a little shaken when he looked out and saw a police squad car pulling up in front of his apartment. What the hell do they want now? I ain’t done nothing wrong ... not lately. His first thought was to hide and not answer the door but then realized his damn car was right out front in plain view and it would probably look better if he met them head-on, like he wasn’t worried about anything.

  “Howdy guys,” he said, opening the door before they could knock as if he was on his way out and was surprised they were there. “You fellas looking for something?”

  “Yeah. Are you Fred Lafferty, the superintendent of this complex?”

  “Yep, that’s me, what can I do for you?” He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and tried his best to look innocent.

  “We would like to check out number 360. Can you let us in?”

  “Uh, no problem if you guys have a good reason and the owner says it’s okay.” Fred’s relief at not being the target of their visit showed all over his face, and the officers picked it up immediately.

  “Have you seen the tenant of apartment 360 around lately; a Matt Errington?”

  “Nope, can’t say I’ve done any work down that way in the last few days.”

  “Well how about if you check your records for the past month and see if anything jogs your memory.”

  Not sure what they were after, Fred was nervous opening the door to his apartment. He walked in ahead of them and quickly scanned the entire room to make sure no sign of his tenant’s belongings were present. He wasn’t too worried. He was pretty careful not to be stupid and leave evidence around.

  “Sure officers, come on in. I’ll go get my log book and be with you in a jiffy.” The place looked like it had been tornado tossed; and even though the police got bad vibes from the guy, they couldn’t tell what they were suspicious of, nor did the mess inside give them any clues.

  “Here, I found the last few week’s logs and don’t see anything done down toward that end of the complex. I have about two-hundred units to tend to, you know. Do it all by myself, too. I’d get around to checking on things more often, but with so much work, well, I just don’t have the time.”

  The officers looked at each other and nodded, “Yeah, okay, let’s take a drive over to 360, and you can check it out right now.”

  “What about the owner’s permission,” Fred answered, hoping there was something in it for him. “I can’t just let you guys in without checking with the guy first.”

  “Yes, you can, and you will,” was the reply. “Just grab your master key, and let’s go.”

  Fred stepped aside after unlocking the door to let the officers go through first. They thought the super’s apartment was a mess, but it didn’t come close to what lay before them. Matt’s apartment had been thoroughly ransacked.

  Little was left untouched. The couch was cut up and stuffing strewn around like snow on a January morning. It covered the mess of papers, food, clothes, and some broken furniture. Walking through the room was difficult without stepping on something; the entire floor was covered. Taking his radio out of his pocket, one of the officers called the station to report their discovery. “Yeah, we have a 10-59,” he said, “better send the lab guys. No sign of the owner, but whoever did this was looking for something a lot smaller than him.”

  Within twenty minutes, the apartment Matt called home was crawling with detectives and a forensic team.

  It was obvious whoever created the mess did a professional job. They were methodically looking for something in particular. The books were rifled, and ripped covers were in a pile. Cushions and the mattress were shredded, which accounted for the snow effect, and some of the furniture was broken up and drawers stacked on one side of the room. Clothes were turned inside out, and the hems and pockets were ripped out of jackets still hanging in the closet. In the kitchen, there was food all over the floor, and everything except sealed cans had been emptied on the table. One detective noted he was relieved the stench from the kitchen was spoiled food from the freezer and not a rotting corpse. Adding to the sense of chaos were shards of a broken mirror lying on the living room floor. The pieces eerily multiplied the reflection of the people who moved cautiously about the room, fanning and folding them in upon each other, like the chunks of color in a kaleidoscope.

  Whether or not the ransackers found what they were searching for would be anyone’s guess. As for finding Matt, it would be several hours before the police could sort it all ou
t and several days before they could determine if there was anything useful there which could help them track him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Nearly two years before, Marsh Laboratory, Matt’s employer, had been awarded a huge government project which Matt, and for a short time, his co-worker Phil, both worked on. Each with a different set of protocols for their research, but both aimed toward one goal. After years of research, a virus had been isolated, which could help find a cure for diseases like muscular dystrophy.

  Normally a slowly developing disease, Matt had discovered a way to manipulate the virus to cause full-blown symptoms in mice within minutes of contact. In seconds, nerve tissue damage caused almost instant paralysis of all voluntary muscles. First, the animals would be unable to move or swallow. Heart, lungs, and organ muscles were secondarily affected with the brain stem and brain neurons the last to be attacked. In essence, the victim would slowly suffocate while staying fully lucid and aware they were dying.

  The second half of his research was to find a way to stop and reverse the progress. Matt was developing the antidote, but the timing was crucial. If given early enough, the serum may, theoretically, restore the damaged nerves. If it was administered too late, it might not save the victim’s vulnerable involuntary system before irreversible damage to internal organs occurred and ultimately, the victim’s death.

  The purpose of such dangerous research was not to create another deadly disease but to use what they learned to reverse-engineer a cure for current diseases. Determining the cause was always the first step toward developing a solution.

  Matt had great success in the last few weeks before he left and felt comfortable his test results were repeatable and would sustain his theories. Although the testing was limited to mice and would have years of trials before any human subjects would be used, Matt was glad he played a role in its development. The belief he was helping people was the part about the job he loved best, and it kept him working late at night long after his colleagues went home.

  Years of hard work and a lot of government grant money was poured into this project, and fire or damage to the lab computers could wipe it out in an instant. Over time, Matt transferred his work to microchips and stored them in his lab’s safe for protection, along with a sample of the virus.

  He gave Dr. Nowak several reports along the way, at least what he finished, and shared with him his optimism about the final stage of the developing serum. Before he left for England, when his trials were finally complete, Matt finished the final report. He was anxious to share his findings with Dr. Nowak and the group in Washington, but Jeff had left for home hours before, and his safe had automatically locked at six o’clock.

  Matt intended to return to the lab before he headed to Washington to clean everything up for the next team, but he wasn’t overly confident about leaving his work unattended for what could be weeks while he was gone to England. Ever since the suspicious activity with his lab notes, he no longer thought his lab to be a safe place. He transferred the entire research project from his computer to something more portable and shredded every last page of his log books. He could reload and reprint it all later. Since no one was expecting him or his research for another month, he felt the only safe place was to take his work home with him. He completely erased everything off the computer, going over several areas to be certain it was all deleted. He could leave feeling secure his entire project, the research and his potential cure, and all of his back up files would be safe.

  RASHID ZAND SAID HE would contact him by Friday and Phil knew time was running out. If he couldn’t find the rest of Matt’s notes by then the whole deal would be blown. Phil copied all of the information he could find from Matt’s office weeks before, but he knew there was so much more of the final research results missing, and what he had so far wouldn’t be of much use to anyone. He knew it, and so would the Iranians. But he couldn’t have known Matt wouldn’t be back.

  Phil knew Matt was always thorough in his protocols and note keeping. He also knew he would have finished the project and documented every step and procedure. So, where the hell are the rest of his notes? He spent several hours in the dark after his co-workers left for the day examining Matt’s laboratory computer and came up empty-handed. Nothing, not a single solitary page of notes. Damn, just like Matt to screw me up again. There were too many gaps in the data that needed filling before he could pass it on to the Iranians, and he worried what their reaction would be if they thought he was cheating them. Probably not a group you want to mess with, Phil decided.

  Getting the job in Washington was a plum, he was going to have access to more confidential information Zand and others like him would pay dearly to get. He just needed to finish this deal before he left so they would trust him again. Trust! Not that it was Phil’s nature to trust anyone or anything himself. Too many things in life got way out of control if you weren’t careful and he liked control. Phil was no dummy; he believed what Zand said about having eyes and ears all over. It would be hard for him to securely hide the copies of research documents without fear of their discovery. As a precaution, he sent all of the data he collected so far from Matt, off to his brother, Eddy, for safekeeping. But he still needed to find the rest to make the deal happen, and he needed to find it soon. Zand was not a patient man, and it had been months longer than Phil anticipated.

  “WHAT ARE YOU THINKING about?” Lilly asked her quiet twin. Kate was lost in thought.

  “Oh, just worrying about Mom, you know. I hope she doesn’t try calling us and get all upset when she can’t get in touch. You know how she is; she’s so neurotic about us.”

  “Yeah, but she isn’t due back from Wales for another couple weeks, and it’s not like she calls every day anyway. It could be a week before she has any idea we are out of touch, and by then we’ll be out of here. I worry about her too since Aunt Lauren’s death. Mom isn’t a trained agent, and she can be so trusting of people. I know Ben has a lot of confidence in her intuition ... but we know how evil the world can be.”

  “I know, I think about that too,” Kate added. Neither girl wanted to dwell on the possibility it would be a long time before Ben or his rescue party would find them, and what condition they might be in by then.

  “Mom will be fine,” Lilly assured her.

  Not usually pessimistic, Kate just sighed, “And if we don’t get out of here, that would be hard on her.”

  “Alright, just shove that notion outta here,” Lilly practically yelled at her sister, causing her voice to ricochet off the walls. “We don’t go that route, and you know it. Let’s stick to developing a plan instead of planning our funerals, okay?”

  “Fine,” Kate answered, “I’m not trying to be maudlin, but I haven’t been able to come up with a solution, have you?’

  “Not yet, but I’m working on it. I’ve been thinking about Dad and when we were young. Remember how he always told us he was Superman from the movies, and we believed him. Said Mom made him give up the career when they were married and how we begged him to show us how he could fly.”

  “Oh Lord,” Kate laughed in spite of their situation. “I hadn’t remembered that in years. He got us going didn’t he, and we tried to convince our friends, but they just thought we were nuts. I miss Dad a lot, and I know Mom does too even though she has a façade of steel, but she lets down her guard from time to time.”

  “Well I sure wish Superman was here now, he would just push the door open, and we’d be free.”

  “Good thought, let’s hang on to that one for a while. It’s so damn hot in here, must be middle of the day by now, maybe we should try to sleep for a while, take turns, save the air. Ben has to be on his way soon.”

  “Alright,” Kate agreed, “and Lilly,”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for the memory and the laugh. I needed that.”

  “No problem. You sleep first. I’ll keep an eye out our window, just in case someone strolls by. I don’t want to miss an opportunity while we take
a snooze.”

  “Good idea, wake me when you start getting sleepy.”

  “Deal, now shut up, you’re using up my air.”

  HE FELT HOT. UNCOMFORTABLY hot. Matt tossed and turned until the heat woke him fully. He threw off the smothering blankets. He couldn’t get enough air. The small bedroom closed in on him as he lay awake and wondered why a sensation of panic repeatedly washed over him. He was weaning himself from several different pills the doctors prescribed, and he told himself it was just the change to his system. It was early, probably before six o’clock and he hoped he hadn’t made a lot of noise in his sleep again. Elizabeth heard him thrashing around the night before and asked him about his apparent nightmares. He wasn’t ready to share his insanity with her yet and hoped he wouldn’t ever need to.

  Tentatively crawling out of bed, Matt realized how cool the room was and grabbed for one of the heavy woolen shirts Elizabeth gave him and the warm flannel trousers. It wasn’t easy to make his way downstairs in the early morning light; the old floors creaked with each step, but he tread carefully to make as little noise as possible. Matt wanted to start breakfast before the women awoke. Both Franny and Elizabeth waited on him, and although he appreciated their concern, he knew it was time to get moving. Hopefully, Elizabeth would be able to link him up with someone in the States and help him get his life back together soon.

  The kitchen was cold, and he was glad for the heavy shirt; some type of handspun wool, the fibers were softened by years of wear. Wondering who the original owner was and what was their fate made Matt shiver again in the cold. Several times he turned around to check behind him, having the unmistakable feeling he wasn’t alone, but nothing and no one came forth from the shadows. Not even Lauren’s small hairball of a dog had made its appearance at such an early hour. His nerves were sorely tested of late, and he assured himself it was just a case of low blood sugar, pills, and anxiety setting off his imagination.