by Eric Bernt
Greers helped connect the dots that Trotter was leaving out. “Whoever the guy is, he’s good. Undoubtedly, someone we know knows him. The question we should be asking is why a professional would go through all this trouble for such a nominal result.”
Bob Stenson stated the obvious: “You’re assuming he achieved his objective. He may not have.”
“He accomplished exactly what he set out to,” McCloskey said with a degree of admiration.
“What makes you so sure?”
“There wasn’t a single useful witness description of him, and not one clean image on any surveillance camera. You have to admit that’s impressive.”
Stenson nodded. It was.
Trotter continued. “We’ve found nothing to suggest that anything went wrong. Therefore, whatever was achieved was his objective, as nominal as it might seem.”
The boss was perplexed, which was rare. “What was achieved?”
Greers smirked. “He got everyone’s attention.”
“Which could mean this was a preamble.”
Trotter shook his head. “No. Someone with this skill set acts, and then disappears. They do not draw attention to themselves before a major play. It takes away the element of surprise.”
“So if this was a one-off, what could the objective possibly have been?”
“To show that he can,” McCloskey replied. The room went quiet, because her reasoning was sound. McCloskey sat up a little straighter.
Stenson considered the thought. “You think this was a demonstration?”
“I’m saying it could have been. We don’t have enough information to know what it was. But we certainly cannot rule it out.”
Stenson nodded in agreement. One of them always came up with something he hadn’t considered. “Keep it back burner. Something’s going to turn up that will make it all make sense. It always does. Until then, focus elsewhere.”
CHAPTER 30
Jacob Hendrix’s Apartment, Greenwich Village, New York City, May 27, 7:55 a.m.
Skylar didn’t leave the apartment for over forty-eight hours. She watched the developing news coverage of the subway gas attack in mind-numbing repetition. No legitimate terrorist organization was stepping forward to claim responsibility. The determination that the gas released in the subway was not lethal sarin or VX or ricin, but only common tear gas, explained why. The news was a relief, but also infuriating. Jacob didn’t die because some group of extremists was attempting to wage war on the United States. He died because some crazy asshole in need of attention decided he didn’t care who got hurt in the process. Selfish bastard.
Eventually, she turned off the television. Nothing new was being reported. The police still had no leads, and it didn’t look like they would anytime soon. Skylar already knew all she needed to know. Jacob was gone. She would never have the opportunity to make things right with him. She would never be able to reassure him like she knew he wanted her to. She would never be able to say yes, that deep inside, she wanted the same things he did, but was just too damn afraid.
She would never be able to admit to him her deepest fears. The ones that kept her away from him and everyone else. She couldn’t tell him that it was her, and not him. She loved him; she really did. At least, as best she could.
She wanted him to know that she never meant to keep him at arm’s length—she really didn’t—but that she didn’t know how to overcome the barriers she had erected so long ago. She didn’t know how to fill the void that had always been there inside her. He had deserved better, and she wished she could have given it to him.
She would have to spend the rest of her life knowing that she hadn’t.
Skylar didn’t sleep at all that first night. She called Fenton’s office about the time she would have normally arrived at Harmony House to tell him she would not be coming in for work the rest of the week.
At the news of Jacob’s death, Fenton sounded empathetic. “My God, you poor dear. Is there anything I can do to help?”
She said there wasn’t, and that she’d be back to work next week.
“Take all the time you need.”
Skylar started to plan Jacob’s funeral, but didn’t get far. It was too soon. Thinking about him lying dead in a casket was too much. His bloodless face. His lifeless eyes. She kept breaking down. Jacob’s parents wanted to make the arrangements, anyway. They were giving him the burial plot they’d been saving for themselves. The funeral was still three weeks away, to give family members time to make their travel arrangements. Skylar thanked them for their help. His mother asked Skylar if she wanted company in Jacob’s apartment, but Skylar declined the offer. She wanted to be alone.
By Saturday morning, the walls were closing in. She needed to get out, but didn’t know where to go. Shu Han Ju? She couldn’t. And it was too bright and sunny outside to go to Central Park. She didn’t want to be around all those cheerful, happy people. She even thought about going to the Met, but didn’t want to break down in front of a bunch of stuffy art lovers and tourists. Maybe a vacation would do her good. Mexico? Italy? Paris? None of it sounded remotely bearable.
That left Harmony House. When all else fails, work. She couldn’t stand the thought of sitting in her office with the one photograph of her and Jacob on the shelf, but she could at least bury herself in another box of materials on Eddie. His files were the only things she thought she could focus on.
She arrived at the Harmony House driveway gate later that morning and showed the guard her ID. She parked in the lot, taking a moment to collect herself. The beige Impala was parked in its usual spot, but there was no sign of the mystery man. Upon entering the building, Skylar veered toward Fenton’s office before heading to her own. She thought it would be a good idea to check in with the boss before retreating to her office. To let him know she was okay. That this wouldn’t interfere with her work. In fact, all she wanted to do was disappear into it. Nineteen hours a day, seven days a week, for the next ten years. Maybe then she would be ready to move on.
She found it curious that Stephen Millard, Dr. Fenton’s faithful secretary, was not at his desk, when it suddenly occurred to her that it was Saturday. Only a skeleton support staff worked on the weekends. Fenton probably wouldn’t be there, either. She turned to exit, when she heard a voice from inside Fenton’s office. It was not the old man’s. It was Eddie’s. He had recognized her from the sound of her footsteps. “Skylar, come here. I’m in Dr. Fenton’s office.”
She entered to find Eddie sitting exactly as he had been the last time he was in here. The echo box sat on Fenton’s coffee table, connected to Eddie’s laptop. The eight one-inch satellite microphones were moving in perfect unison as they pointed around the room.
“Hi, Eddie.” She tried to sound as cheerful as she could, hoping to conceal the incredible sadness overwhelming her from Eddie, as well as from herself.
“Dr. Fenton isn’t here today, because today is Saturday and he doesn’t usually work on Saturdays. At least, not anymore. He used to, but after his wife died, he started to garden because that is what his wife liked to do, and Dr. Fenton says gardening reminds him of her. Her name was Ruth. They were married a long time.” Eddie never once looked at Skylar. His eyes were glued to his laptop screen.
“Are you sure it’s okay for you to be in here?”
“Dr. Fenton gave me permission to come into his office anytime I thought it was really important, and I thought it was really important.”
“What’s going on?”
“I came up with a new approach, just like you suggested.” He said it quite like the way she had spoken the phrase to him, but he still didn’t look at her.
“I’m glad to hear it.” Skylar was barely holding it together.
“It was surprisingly simple, also just like you said.”
“What was?” Eddie pointed to the echo box. She turned toward the device. “You mean to tell me it’s working?”
“Almost.” He innocently turned back to the laptop screen, where he wat
ched the loading progress bar below the three-dimensional image of the office. “Eighty-three percent, eighty-four percent . . .”
She moved closer toward the laptop screen to see for herself. Ninety-one percent. Ninety-two. She was stunned. “Oh my God.”
He knew that phrase meant shock, surprise, or dismay, but he couldn’t tell which. “Are you okay, Skylar?”
“Yes, I’m fine.”
He made his BUZZER sound, but never looked away from the laptop screen. Ninety-five percent. Ninety-six percent. Eddie seemed much more calm than he had previously. Like he knew this time was different.
He seemed to know he’d done it.
Skylar glanced around the room, checking for sharp objects, then toward the door, hoping that Nurse Gloria was in the immediate vicinity when things didn’t go as planned.
When the counter read one hundred percent, he looked up at Skylar with a spectacular smile, which he’d been practicing for years. For the very first time in his life, Eddie seemed to be expressing himself emotionally. But, given the circumstances, neither he nor Skylar paid much attention. “What would you like to hear, Skylar?”
She remained calm, as well as dubious. “Eddie, I think you should choose.”
He thought about it for a moment. “It would probably be a good idea to start with a recent date. There will be considerably less distortion and white noise to filter out.”
“Okay.” She prepared for the upcoming tantrum.
Eddie studied the recent Timeline of Wave History for Dr. Fenton’s office. He moved a designator from the end of the timeline (the present) to yesterday (Friday), then pinpointed the most clearly identifiable sound waves. He looked up to Skylar. “Are you ready to hear something that no one has ever heard before?”
She inched closer to Eddie. The more he built up the moment, the more she prepared herself to spring into action. “I think so.” She immediately began to doubt whether she could restrain him by herself. She envisioned him thrashing about, hurting her as well as himself, and, worse, damaging the echo box. She dreaded the thought of having to explain the incident to Fenton. Skylar considered trying to stop Eddie from proceeding, but didn’t act quickly enough.
“These are the first sound waves ever re-created.” He hit “Play.”
CHAPTER 31
Harmony House, Woodbury, New Jersey, May 27, 10:10 a.m.
At first, all that could be heard was low-decibel HISSING and WARBLE. Skylar immediately grew concerned, expecting Eddie to explode.
But, surprisingly, he didn’t. “Now that I’ve been able to rebuild the waves, I should be able to clean up most of this harmonic distortion by running it through a series of filters.”
She nodded, pretending to understand, when she suddenly froze. The impossible became possible as Fenton’s voice was heard through the laptop’s speakers: “Stephen, I don’t remember who my ten thirty is with. God, I really am getting old.”
Skylar’s eyes bugged out with disbelief. She forgot to breathe. “Holy shit.”
“That expression confuses me,” Eddie replied.
Fenton’s voice continued after a brief pause. “Reschedule it. Next week, or, better yet, the week after.”
Skylar recovered quickly. “Sounded like he was on the phone with his assistant.”
Through the laptop, Skylar and Eddie heard the sound of a phone hanging up.
“Give the lady a booby prize.” He tried to sound like Jerome had in the cafeteria. Eddie worked his laptop, running the reconstructed sound waves through several more filters.
When he played Fenton’s phone conversation with his assistant again, it sounded considerably crisper. The dialogue was distinct.
Skylar wanted another demonstration before she was really going to believe what she was hearing. “Can you find a conversation he had with someone in person?”
“Yes.” Eddie moved the time designator to the day before yesterday (Thursday), but the waves were only single sets, which meant they were one-sided phone conversations, like the one they’d just heard.
Eddie was looking for two sets of overlapping waves, which meant a conversation between two people in the same space. He slid the designator to Wednesday, where he found what he was looking for. “This was a conversation Dr. Fenton was having with someone else in this office. It was approximately the time we took our walk in the yard to nowhere in particular, which I still think was a strange destination.” He hit “Play.”
Through the laptop, they heard a light knock. Fenton said, “Come in.” The door opened and closed. The sound reproduction was a bit garbled but still distinct enough. Someone had entered the office, but Eddie couldn’t make out the footsteps.
Fenton asked his visitor, “Mr. Barnes, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Barnes answered, “Your new doctor’s boyfriend has been looking into Eddie.”
Skylar’s face dropped. She didn’t recognize the man’s voice, but realized Barnes must be the head of Harmony House security. She couldn’t believe he was talking about Jacob.
Eddie turned to her. “I don’t recognize who Dr. Fenton is talking to. Do you?”
She shook her head no. Her mind was already reeling.
Eddie said, “I think he must be the mystery man, because he’s the only one who works here whose voice I have never heard.”
“Shh.” Skylar listened intently.
Dr. Fenton’s was the next voice heard: “What have you got?” The sound of documents being reviewed was clear. Evidence was being examined.
BARNES: Either she’s got loose lips or he’s been sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.
Goose bumps became visible on Skylar’s arms. She was barely breathing.
BARNES: Could be nothing, but I thought you should be made aware.
There was a momentary pause.
FENTON: I don’t like it.
His voice was cold. Emotionless.
BARNES: My real concern is that there is at least one op being run out of NYU, and possibly several. I haven’t confirmed it, but I’m pretty damn sure. If I’m right, the professor may not even know what he’s done.
There was another pause, this time even longer. Fenton was clearly thinking through his options.
FENTON: We can’t afford a breach. Not now. Not even the possibility of one.
This was the kind of conversation where the most important things were the ones not said. But there was no misunderstanding. Barnes seemed to know exactly what Fenton meant.
BARNES: You sure about this?
FENTON: Yes, I’m sure. Skylar is too valuable. She’s already made more progress with Eddie in days than the others made in years.
A pause. Presumably Barnes was deciding on a course of action.
BARNES: Will you want to know the details?
FENTON: Nothing in his residence. Make it look like an accident.
BARNES: He takes the subway.
Skylar blurted out, “Oh my God.” Her hands were trembling.
Eddie pressed “Stop.” The playback halted. “That’s the second time you’ve said ‘Oh my God,’ Skylar.”
Tears started streaming down her face. She was shaking.
“You’re crying.” He said it descriptively, not compassionately. He wasn’t sure how to respond.
Skylar nodded.
“Are you crying in a good way?” He thought of how people had explained that his mother’s voice had brought them to tears.
“No, Eddie. I’m upset.”
“Why are you upset?”
“Because of what I just heard.”
“I thought it would make you happy. Why did it make you upset?”
“I can’t tell you that right now.”
“Because it involves the mystery man and he is none of my concern?”
She nodded.
Eddie looked around the room, imagining all the sound waves bouncing all around them. “Would you like to hear something else?”
“Not . . . now.” She had trouble getting the wo
rds out. Skylar had lost control of her breathing.
“Okay.”
She got up and started pacing around the room. Her head was spinning. She had no idea what she was going to do. Think, Skylar. Think! Do something! The only thing she was certain of was that her world was collapsing around her.
Nothing would ever be the same again.
“Do you know what I want to hear?” he asked innocently.
“No, Eddie.” She continued to pace. Should I go to the police? The FBI? The CIA?
“I want to hear my mother sing.”
She stopped dead in her tracks. It was suddenly crystal clear. Skylar knew what she had to do. And that was to get Eddie and his echo box the hell out of Harmony House. Beyond that, she didn’t have a clue. But she did know what the first step was. “You know what, Eddie?”
“No, I don’t.” He had no idea what he was supposed to know.
“I want you to hear your mother sing, too.”
“My father used to tell me she sang a lot when I was inside her stomach. Will you see if Dr. Fenton will give me permission to go to the house I grew up in?”
“I think we should go there right now.”
He looked confused. “Right now?”
“Right now.” She sounded certain. Defiant, even.
“Dr. Fenton said I should never try to leave without his permission.”
“What if I told you he already gave me permission?”
He made his BUZZER sound. “Not true, Skylar.” She had forgotten who she was talking to.
She spoke very carefully. “Eddie, what if I told you I didn’t think it was safe for you here anymore?”
He listened intently. The statement was true. And, therefore, upsetting. “Why isn’t it safe here anymore?” He glanced around nervously.
She looked him directly in the eyes. “You need to trust me on this for a little while. Can you do that?”
He thought for a moment. “Yes.”
“I would never ask you to do anything I didn’t think was in your best interest.”
He nodded. True.
“Good. Let’s go.” She spoke quickly, deciding that time was of the essence. She immediately helped him pack up the echo box and the laptop.