by John Locke
He sighs.
“What’s magic about this afternoon?”
“What if I told you I have a chance to kill dozens of terrorists all over the world if I can get this chip deactivated?”
“I’d tell you to call Darwin.”
“I can’t. He’s the one that made you implant the chip. He’d never allow it to be erased.”
“Darwin’s a lot of things, and many of them are vile. But first and foremost he’s a patriot. I bet he’d allow it, if you can convince him there’s a connection between erasing the chip and killing a bunch of terrorists.”
“I can’t trust him. But I’ll trust you. I’ve uncovered an arms deal. Two hundred chips have been distributed to terror cells all over the world. At least one of them is in Las Vegas, and I’m certain there are many more in the U.S. If I can de-magnetize the chip in my head, I’ll be free to reprogram the chip codes and blow them all up at the same time, all over the world. I’m betting dozens of terrorists have the chips in their possession. When I reset the code, they’ll blow up.”
“And you have a way of resetting the code? Some sort of device?”
“I’ve said all I’m going to say.”
“You need to de-magnetize the chip because when you reset the codes and detonate the chips, the chip in your head will also be activated.”
“That’s right.”
“If you don’t get the scan, you’re not willing to blow up the other chips.”
“Would you?”
“No.”
“Then get me the appointment.”
“I’ll try. But I don’t see the urgency about having this done this afternoon.”
“The terror cell in Vegas sewed a chip into an illegal alien’s mouth yesterday, and blew her head off trying to determine how powerful the explosion would be. Every passing day increases the possibility of a terrorist attack. Thousands of lives are at stake.”
“How big a danger are these chips?”
“What do you mean?”
“It seems like the charge would only be powerful enough to kill the person holding it, and possibly a few others.”
“You can bet they won’t use the chips that way.”
“Then how?”
“I expect they’ll set plastique in key places and use the chips as detonators, like blasting caps.”
“But if you can blow them up while they’re holding them—”
“Exactly.”
“So what’s this device that can be used to reprogram the chips?”
“That’s not something you need to worry about.”
“The reason I’m asking, you won’t be able to have it anywhere near the imaging room, correct?”
“That’s right.”
Doc Howard pauses. Then says, “I’ll do what I can.”
40.
Present Day…
Maybe Taylor.
MAYBE SCREAMS OUT in pain, instinctively moves her hand to her crotch, realizes she’s still wearing her jeans. Opens her eyes. Her head’s in a fog. “What time is it?”
“Two a.m.,” Sam says.
“What did you do to me just now?”
“Nothing. You were dreaming.”
“What’s happened?”
“I came to your place at seven last night. The first thing you said was you hoped I’d be better looking.”
Maybe yawns. “That’s true. And you said I was good looking enough for both of us.”
“Right. Then I took you to dinner.”
“Then we went to a hotel.”
“We’re still at the hotel.”
“Why’s it so dark in here?”
“It’s the middle of the night. What else do you remember?”
“I remember telling you there would be no sex.”
“That was three hours ago.”
“Then what happened?”
“We had a drink, and I gave you something to help you relax.”
“You didn’t try to fuck me, did you?”
“No.”
“Good,” Maybe says.
“Why’s that good?”
“Because you’re too old for me. And creepy.”
“That’s just a first impression.”
“What time is it?” she says.
“Three-thirty.”
“I thought you said two.”
“That was ninety minutes ago.”
“Are we still in the hotel room?”
“Yes.”
The next time Maybe opens her eyes the lights are on. “Sam?”
“I’m right here, beside you. It’s 4:12.”
She’s lying down on a bed. Her head is still fuzzy, but something feels strange “down there.” What’s strange is she feels numb. She props herself up on her elbows, sees she’s naked from the waist down. A dildo is protruding from between her legs.
“What the fuck?”
“Surprise!” Sam says.
She launches a fist toward his face and nearly breaks his nose.
He yelps, but moves in closer and says, “Hit me as much as you want, as hard as you want, for as long as you want. My only wish is for you to be happy.”
She slaps his face. Looks at him, says, “What’s the matter with you?” Then slaps him again.
“I want you to have a normal life, free of pain.”
She slaps him again. “You bastard! You had no right to touch me!”
He removes the pillow case from a pillow, dabs the blood from his nose and corner of his mouth, looks at it, dabs again. Then says, “Slap me if you want, but realize for the first time in more than a year, you’re not in pain.”
Maybe raises her arm to hit him again, then stops. Looks down. The dildo isn’t as large as the giant purple one Dr. Scott had on his tray, but it’s larger than any of the three young men who’ve spent time inside her. She reaches down and slides it out, noting the complete lack of pain. She briefly touches herself where the dildo had been, wonders if she’s dreaming. Then realizes if she’s not dreaming, she’s naked in real life! She pulls a sheet over herself, and goes back to sleep.
41.
4:15 a.m., Pacific Daylight Time.
Donovan Creed.
I DON’T REQUIRE a nice bed or fancy sheets. While at PhySpa, I grab a pillow from the lobby couch, toss it on one of the office floors, and lay my head wherever it lands. No sheets, no bed, no problem. I put my cell phone charger wherever there’s a nearby outlet, and find something made of wood or plastic to set it on so the vibration will make a rattling sound when someone calls.
Like it’s doing right now.
As I reach for it, I play a three-second game of trying to decide who’s calling at 7:15 a.m., Eastern Time. My guess is Miranda. She probably just got in from a “date” and found the message light on. I can picture her exhausted, trying to force a happy voice for my benefit.
I’m wrong. It’s Doc Howard.
“Five-forty this afternoon,” he says, “Central time. It’s the best I can do.”
“How on earth?”
“I won’t begin to tell you how much trouble I went through to make this happen. Let’s just say you owe me.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
“Get there thirty minutes early, to check in.”
“You got an address?”
“No!”
He hangs up.
Thanks to Doc Howard, I’ve got an appointment. But I’m still left with the problem of finding someone to safeguard the device while I’m in the imaging room. While I generally trust Doc Howard, he might feel compelled to tell Darwin my plans, since they involve the unauthorized killing of terrorists. He also might tell in order to cover his ass. Doc Howard planted the chip under Darwin’s orders, so it makes sense he’d tell Darwin I asked him to set an appointment to have the chip erased.
I think a minute. Would he tell Darwin before or after making the appointment?
Before.
Not saying he told Darwin anything, but if he did, he would’ve told him I know about the chip,
and that I’m planning to have it erased. If Darwin told him to set the appointment, he might have decided this is his last, best chance to kill me, since he knows exactly where I’ll be at five-forty. Worse, I’ll be vulnerable for at least twenty minutes while I’m being scanned in the imaging room. From five-forty to six p.m. I’ll be unarmed, completely immobilized, on my back, with my head in the machine.
I’ll be as helpless as Curly, after Moe and Larry stick his head in a vice.
I press the button to call Jeff Tuck.
“You asleep?”
“I was dreaming of tea and crumpets with the Queen.”
“Is Joe with you?”
“He’s on the desk.” Meaning he’s watching the bank of TV monitors to ensure nobody’s sneaking up on us.
“I’ll meet you there.”
“Do I have time to piss?”
“You do.”
Moments later, the three of us are in the security room.
“I need you guys to come with me to Chicago.”
“When?” Joe says.
“Now.”
“What about George?”
“How long’s he been in the freezer?”
“Not even close.”
I sigh. The plan is to freeze him solid, lift the freezer lid, and cut him into chunks right where he is, to keep the blood contained. Then we’ll put the chunks in plastic bags, place the plastic bags in laundry bags, and carry them to our cars, and scatter the pieces in various parts of the desert.
“We can’t leave George unguarded,” Jeff says.
“I agree. Joe, you stay. Jeff will go with me.”
“How much should I pack?” Jeff says.
“We’ll be back tonight.”
“Give me two minutes.”
I tell Joe to keep an eye on things.
He nods.
I call Lou. When he answers, I say, “You’ll be pleased to know I’ve got a job for you.”
“What’s that?”
“I need a jet.”
“Where and when?”
“I need to land in Chicago at four, local time.”
“Today?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ll need to leave by ten.”
“That’ll work.”
I hang up and immediately call my friends at Koltech Aviation in Las Vegas. Bob Koltech answers.
“I’ll pay you sixty grand to fly me to Chicago and back.”
“When do you want to leave?”
“Right now.”
“Are you here at the gate?”
“No, but I can be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Which jet do you want?”
I notice another call coming in. I say, “The fastest one you’ve got.”
“I’ll have her warmed up and ready to roll when you get here.”
“Good man.”
I click him off and click the next caller through.
Miranda.
“I’m so glad to hear from you!” she says. “Seems like a million years!”
“Me too,” I say.
“What’s up?”
“I planned to fly you to Chicago to meet me around noon, Central Time, but my plans have changed. I’m heading there now. I appreciate you calling, but it’s not going to work at this point.”
“Whoa, cowboy. You can’t get rid of me that easily. I’d love to meet you! Please? I’ll put a huge smile on your face!”
“I could use a huge smile.”
“I can be there by eleven. Maybe we can have lunch, spend the day together. And the night, if you’d like.”
“I’d love it, but—”
“Then it’s set. I know you’re busy, so I’ll book my own flight. Where are we staying?”
“I don’t have a room. I was planning to head back to Vegas later today.”
“No problem. I’ll text you my itinerary, and call when I get there. If we don’t connect, I’ll shop till I hear from you.”
She makes a great case for staying in Chicago.
“Sounds great. Thanks, Miranda.”
“No,” she says. “Thank you!”
After hanging up I head to the kitchen, look in the closet where Phyllis kept the party supplies from when she had birthday parties for her employees. Amid the gift paper, bags, tissue, and such, I pick a small box, place the ceramic device in it, gift wrap it, and stuff it in my pocket. Then I go to my safe and remove a suitcase that holds one hundred twenty thousand dollars in hundreds, and five thousand in twenties. Then Jeff and I head to the private airfield where Bob Koltech has our jet waiting.
Normally I trust Lou to book my flights. But on the chance Darwin knows what I’m up to, he’ll get my itinerary from Lou. If Lou thinks I’m leaving Vegas at ten, Darwin will think so, too.
I do lead a complicated life.
42.
Maybe Taylor.
“HOW’D YOU DO it?” Maybe asks.
“You mean, why didn’t it hurt when I inserted the dilator?” Sam says.
“Yeah.”
“I injected you with Botox.”
“What?”
“It’s a little tricky, and I had to study up on it. The whole purpose is to relax the muscle spasm.”
“That’s the pain I felt in the middle of the night.”
“Yes.”
“But I had my jeans on. I felt them!”
“Your jeans were on top of your legs.”
“You’re an asshole.”
Sam sighs. “The point of botox therapy is for you to wake up after achieving the hardest part, which is the insertion of a large dilator. When you see it inside you, as you did, your brain begins to understand this is something you can do. So that’s the first step.”
“What’s the second?”
“Training your vaginal muscles to respond to the dilator over time.”
“How much time?”
“Hard to say. Months, certainly.”
“It obviously happened that once,” Maybe says. “But it couldn’t happen again. You don’t understand. No one does.”
Sam starts to pull the sheet off her. She grabs it and says, “What the hell are you doing?”
“Check it out,” he says, giving up his grip on the sheet.
She lifts the sheet and peeks beneath it. To her astonishment, the dildo is back where it was earlier.
“Keep your fucking hands off my snatch!” she says.
Sam assumes a defensive posture, with his hands up, guarding his face. He says, “I love you.”
“You’re a degenerate. I never gave you permission to sexually violate me.”
“I know you don’t find me attractive,” Sam says.
“No shit! And it’s not just a matter of looks. You’ve got the whole ‘call me Daddy’ thing going on, and you’re way older than me, which makes it twice as creepy. You’ve made me a kept woman, paying for all these lessons and whatnot, and now you’re trying to collect a sexual payment for it.”
“I won’t argue with anything you said. But whether you believe it or not, I’m a good guy. I’m incredibly smart, talented in many ways that can benefit you, and I love you. I’d do anything for you. Do you believe that?”
“No.”
“Put me to the test.”
“You’d fail.”
“Try me.”
“Fine. Leave your wife.”
“Are you asking me if I’d get a divorce?”
“Yes.”
“Are you offering me anything in return? Anything at all?”
“No.”
“The answer’s yes. If you want me to, I’ll divorce her immediately.”
“Call her.”
“What, right now?”
“Yes. With me listening.”
“It’s seven-fifteen!”
“So?”
“You don’t know Rachel.”
He shrugs, gets his cell phone, and presses a button.
“Put it on speaker,” Maybe says.
He clicks the speaker button.
&n
bsp; A woman answers.
“Mmm?”
“Rachel?”
“Huh?”
“It’s me, Sam.”
“Who?”
“Your husband. Sam.”
She yawns. “Where are you?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“What do you want? I’m trying to sleep.”
“I’ve found someone else. I want a divorce.”
“Is this a joke?”
“No. I’m totally serious.”
“Thanks, Sam.”
“You’re welcome.”
The phone goes silent. As he’s about to hang up, she says, “Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“I hope she makes you very happy.”
“Thanks.”
He hangs up.
Maybe says, “She didn’t sound too broken up about it.”
“She’s crying on the inside.”
43.
MAYBE LAUGHS. “YOU’RE funny. In a non-comedic sort of way.”
“Thanks,” Sam says.
“Are you really going through with it?”
“The divorce?”
“Yes.”
“I am. Rachel’s in love with someone else. I may as well let her get on with her life.”
“And you just now decided this?”
“I hadn’t considered her feelings till now. I was too angry at her for cheating on me.”
Sam puts the phone on the nightstand and lies down beside her on the bed. She hands him the dilator. “I believe this belongs to you.”
He puts it in his mouth.
“Eew,” she says.
He places it on the night stand and says, “I love you. I’ve loved you for months.”
She’s under the sheet, naked from the waist down. He’s lying above the covers, fully clothed. They remain quiet a long time before Maybe breaks the silence. “I’m not going to be your girlfriend. You know that, don’t you?”
He sighs. “Is it completely impossible for us to have a romantic relationship?”
“Completely.”
“What if we were the last two people on Earth?”
“Even then.”
“So it’s hopeless?”
“Look into my face.”
He does.
“I will never love you.”