✽ ✽ ✽
“That blinking light on your phone is a frantic message from me about your meeting with Ken,” said Sue. She was sitting in my office. “It says something about protecting the vulnerable parts of your anatomy. How’d it go?”
“I’m still employed…for now.”
“If I hadn’t had that stupid pad of paper on my desk.”
“You were doing exactly what I asked. Besides, the bigger problem is finding anything we can work with. I’m guessing you aren’t holding a set of disk drives behind your back.”
She looked down, as her hands were resting in her lap. “Apparently not.”
“So, how much do you and Nicole have left to read?” I asked.
“I have maybe four inches of folders in the last box. I’d guess Nicole has about the same. Why?”
“I stuck you and Nicole with most of the reading…and for no good reason apparently. Finishing up the last few pages seems the least I can do.”
“I’d argue with you, but I’m going cross-eyed wading through that dribble. Thanks.”
Friday, August 21, 2:31 PM
“Twenty minutes and I’m already thinking about leaving,” I grumbled aloud. Reading Worthington’s notes was already getting to me. I shot a glance at my open office door. Fortunately, no one was standing there. Of course, I could show them a snippet of the minutia of Worthington’s days, and they would understand.
I pulled another page from the stack that seemed to grow smaller at about the same rate as continental drift. My eyes were drawn to a paragraph about a third of the way down the page. What made it attention-grabbing was the fact that it was a full paragraph, rather than the one or two-liners that dominated his notes.
I read through it and reached for my phone, but I set it back down. I was about to do exactly what Ken had warned me not to do – get distracted by the hunt for a person who probably had done nothing more than participate in a study, gotten bored with it, and then went on with his life. And the scientist who died in his home? He probably did so in his sleep; there’d certainly been no headline-grabbing news about a murder. But getting a second opinion on this paragraph would only take a moment and I trusted Sue’s judgment. I dialed her number and she offered to come by my office, saying she needed the walk.
When she arrived a few minutes later, she was talking on her phone. “Hold on Nicole.” Sue put her hand over the receiver. “Just talking about the Blocker specifications document.” Then, back into the phone. “I’m in Doc’s office. I’ll put you on speaker.”
“Hi, Sam. Or should I say goodbye and let you two talk?”
“Um, no, that’s OK. You can stay on the line. But Sue, would you close the door?”
I was expecting Sue to say something about how kinky it was, wanting one woman alone in my office and another on the phone, but perhaps the excitement tinged with apprehension I felt also showed on my face. She said nothing.
“I found something…well, maybe it’s something in Worthington’s notes. Let me read it.
“He was in the lab, doing something to one of the power supplies. But the Blocker was right there and I’m sure he’d been checking it out before I came in. I yelled at him, told him to get out. He said he’d finished anyway. How convenient. I should have called the police, but what could they do? He can’t be trusted; he wants to ruin me or worse. In the end, all I could do was run Allen Trimmel out of the building myself. But if he comes back, it’ll be his last mistake.”
Sue dropped into the chair, staring at me. “You think Allen Trimmel is A.T.?”
“I think there’s a chance,” I replied. “Besides the initials, this wasn’t a person he was meeting for the first time over and over, like everyone else he ran into. He knew Trimmel before this incident.”
“So, this is after March, when Dr. Worthington first started having problems with faces?” came the voice from the phone.
“Yeah, it’s June,” I replied.
“Dr. Worthington never said he disliked A.T. when we met him,” said Nicole. “And he clearly dislikes Allen Trimmel. But in June, he was having problems with his temper, so I don’t think his dislike then is necessarily inconsistent with what he told us a couple of weeks ago. That is, if they’re the same person.”
I liked the way Nicole thought – logical, thorough. It fit my stereotype for an engineer. And frankly, I probably liked her analysis because it matched my thoughts.
“Also, the phrase about wanting to ruin him isn’t exactly the same as his life being in danger,” I said. “But if he thought Trimmel was going to steal the Blocker, it’s close.”
“I’d say so,” said Sue. “Worthington said that living without it would be like living without air…if I remember Beth’s words correctly.”
“It’s not the consent form, but I think you have plenty to take to the police,” said Nicole.
I looked at Sue. Her eyebrows went up as she held a hand out in front of her, the other hand still holding her phone.
“You two have gotten awfully quiet,” said Nicole after a moment.
“It’s just that Ken read Doc the riot act a little while ago – told him not to get caught up in the Worthington murder mystery,” explained Sue.
“He was probably more concerned about a call like this, where we end up debating the questions of means, motive, and opportunity for a couple of hours. I was pretty sure I was going to call the police before, and now, I’m certain. Thanks, ladies, for hearing me out.”
“Of course,” said Nicole.
“Good luck,” Sue said as she turned off the speaker. She left talking to Nicole.
Since I didn’t have a name or number at the police department, I dialed the WHT offices. At first, I was surprised to hear, “Jon Huston, Worthington-Huston Technologies.”
“Hi, Jon. It’s Doc. That’s right, Laverne’s on vacation, isn’t she?”
“She is indeed. Doing her work is keeping me from mine, but she needed the time away from the office.” His voice trailed off as he said it, but he soon recovered.
“Which reminds me, I hired some students to clean out the basement storage area, and they found a couple more boxes of Ned’s notes. I understand from Sue that the others were a waste of time, and unfortunately, these are too. I’ve been through them. I’m really sorry about this.”
“It needed to be done,” I replied. “Which is why I called. Do you happen to know Allen Trimmel?”
“Is that A.T.?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.
“I don’t know. But you don’t know him?”
“No, I don’t recognize the name. What’s the context?”
“Someone Dr. Worthington ran out of the lab in June,” I replied. “I thought I’d give the name to the police, but I wasn’t sure who to call.”
“Yeah, Ned probably ran several people out of the lab around then,” said Huston, his tone somber. “But I don’t know Trimmel. The person you want at the PD is Detective Larry Ahern. Just a sec, I’ll get his number.”
After a moment, he read it off, I thanked him, and we said our goodbyes.
I dialed the Detective’s number, but got no response. I left a message with both my office and cell phone numbers, asking him to call me.
With that done, I sunk back into my office chair, staring at the remaining pile of folders. I took about a half-inch of them and carefully bent them. There was no resistance; there was no external disk in there. I did the same to small stacks of the remaining pages, all with the same result. Everything that was left was paper. Even if every page was a printout or survey from the study, there weren’t enough pages to cover the research. Even without looking, I knew we were at a dead end.
Perhaps Biomedical Engineering Associates could get a new contract to study the device using the document Nicole had. Maybe they would subcontract us. Maybe I could work for Nicole. The thought was pleasant, but unlikely.
Even though there weren’t enough unread pages left to cover our requirements, I knew I’d dig through
them anyway…just not today. “The hell with it,” I mumbled, again surprising myself I had said it aloud. After checking that there were no witnesses, I left for the day.
Saturday, August 22, 5:37 PM
I pushed a finger through the slats in the Venetian blind, looking out at the street while I waited until time to meet Sue for dinner. A black SUV I hadn’t seen before Thursday was sitting on the street again. Of course, black SUVs were hardly rare on my block. Two of my neighbors owned them. But this one was new and I’d never seen anyone getting into or out of it. Could this be…?
Get a grip.
A neighbor had bought a new car and nothing more. Unless I was going to plant myself by the window, I wouldn’t see anyone around it until I happened on him or her loading up the kids for a soccer game, or bringing in the week’s groceries, or packing for a weekend camping trip. And besides, I’m worried about someone who kills for exotic technology, not the FBI. I needed to rein in my imagination.
I glanced in the other direction. The dog walkers were out. I recognized several of them, including one attractive, young woman. That was where I should be directing my imagination. I had passed her on the sidewalk a couple of times. I knew her well enough to say, ‘Hi,’ well enough to know there was no ring on her hand.
True, I didn’t find my dog-walking neighbor as attractive as Nicole, but I was starting to get a bad feeling about my chances with her. It was nothing specific, nothing I could name, but….
I jumped when my phone rang and nearly punched a hole through the window with my finger. “Ow.” I shook it a couple of times, then picked up the receiver with my other hand.
“Hello.”
“Sorry, Doc, but you’re going to need to change clothes.” It was Sue’s voice.
“Something come up?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m going to have to bring Al along tonight. Caught him paging through the pizza ads when I was getting ready.”
Sue did help Al with his battle against the bulge, but this excuse was pure fiction. Al was coming because he was a big fan of the Mexican restaurant where we were going and because Sue wanted him by her side. After almost two years of marriage, they still enjoyed each other’s company and that showed no sign of changing.
“So, sorry, Doc, but you’ll need to change out of those sexy duds and put on something that won’t give us away.”
I chuckled. “I can manage that.”
“Al will pick up his part of the tab,” Sue said. “Like I said before, he didn’t earn dinner by dumpster-diving through Worthington’s notes.”
I shook my head, grinning at the phone. “He got lunch last time, so I have tonight.” That reasoning might have been fiction too. I didn’t remember, but I had invited both of them anyway. “Still on for 6:00?”
“Yeah. And thanks. I guess we should be going. See you there.” Sue hung up.
The restaurant was nearby, so I was walking, which meant it was time for me to leave as well. I turned off the light in the living room and started for the front door. But as I reached for the doorknob, I heard a creak in the hallway. The building was old. It didn’t need a reason to make sounds, but someone on the stairs invariably made noise.
It was probably more of my imagination, but why chance it? I crept past the kitchen and living room to a closet near the bathroom. I removed my baseball bat and returned to the door. I had considered buying a gun after the scene in Worthington’s office, but believed it a bit of an overreaction. Now, the option sounded much more appropriate.
I peeked into the hall. No one. The floor creaked again, somewhere behind my partially opened door. My heart started pounding in my ears. My muscles tensed. I gripped the bat with both hands and raised it to my shoulder, like I was preparing for a home-run swing. I nudged the door open with my foot.
There stood Lilly, my seventy-year-old, across-the-hall neighbor in her Cardinals jersey. Her back was to me as she stared into the apartment she shared with her husband, Jerry. I lowered the bat before she turned. That was probably fortunate; I wasn’t sure I could explain to Jerry if I gave her a heart attack.
“I didn’t know the Cards were calling up a secret weapon,” Lilly said when she saw me.
“Evening, Lilly. You and Jerry headed for the game?”
“We are,” she replied, as her husband joined her in the hall. He frowned when he saw what I was carrying.
“I’d say I think better with the bat in my hands, but since I just walked out into the hall without thinking about it, I guess that doesn’t work. You two have fun at the game,” I said, retreating into my apartment. I returned the bat to the closet and left for the restaurant.
✽ ✽ ✽
Sue and Al were seated at a table when I arrived. “Did you give Trimmel’s name to the police?” whispered Sue, as I slid into a chair across from them.
I glanced at Al, who was busy with the chips and salsa, then back at Sue. “I called and left a message. I didn’t hear anything back…but you don’t want to talk about work tonight, do you?”
“Actually, I wouldn’t mind a little shop talk,” said Al, taking me by surprise. “Sue hasn’t been a happy camper for a while. I’m just wondering, what’s your take on everything that’s been happening?”
“I’m as fun as ever,” Sue said, sticking out her lower lip in a pretend pout. Al reached over and placed a hand on his wife’s arm. She covered his hand with her own, then smiled.
“Well, I don’t know what’s got Sue down.” Sue’s brows knitted again. “Probably nothing, because she’s as fun as ever,” I said, correcting myself. “But what’s got me is, we have all these questions about the Blocker – did it make Worthington hostile? Or was it just stress. But we have no way to answer them. And the person, A.T., and the data that would help are also missing.”
“Yeah, but you’ll get there,” said Al.
I took a chip and dipped it in salsa, forming the answer in my mind when Sue spoke. “That’s not a given, honey. We’re running out of places to look for the files and Ken is getting impatient. We could get pulled off this job anytime. As for the VA or the police getting serious about investigating? I just don’t know.” Sue looked at me.
“I think they will – the VA anyway, but probably not soon,” I replied. “There’s nothing like a smoking gun in anything we have, but there’s enough that the VA will get worried. Then, they’ll either cut the funding or they’ll form a new team to study the technology or both. Eventually, that’ll pay off.”
“But if our worst-case fears are true, the delay could be hazardous to our health,” said Sue.
“Yeah, just how sure are you that there’s someone out there interested in knocking off neuroscientists and psychologists?” asked Al.
“And biomedical engineers,” added Sue.
I cringed. The list of potential victims made the situation painful, even if the threat was questionable. “I’m not sure. We started by looking for protection from Worthington, because I thought he might lash out if he found one of us alone.”
“We all felt that,” said Sue.
I nodded, appreciating her show of unity. “When Worthington died, the precaution remained. But it’s based on a long string of unlikely events – like someone stole the device and decided to kill Worthington to keep it. And for some reason, he or she now sees us as a threat.”
Our server arrived at the table for drink orders. After Sue ordered iced tea, Al said, “Sounds like a night to drown our concerns. I’ll take a margarita.”
“The same for me,” I said, sharing Al’s feeling.
After our server left, Al said, “So, it’s not that likely that there’s someone out there gunning for you.”
“No, probably not,” I admitted, then chuckled. “But that hasn’t kept me from jumping at my own shadow.” I proceeded to tell them the story of my near beaning of Lily with my baseball bat, only exaggerating slightly for effect.
When I was done, the talk transitioned to more pleasant topics and dinner went quickly. A
s I left the restaurant, I felt better. Perhaps the act of talking through our situation had calmed me. No, it was probably the booze, and tomorrow I’d realize that this is one of those times you don’t want to be on the wrong side of a one-in-a-million chance.
But tonight, everything was good.
Saturday, August 22, 8:47 PM
The Experimenter parked the van across the street from his destination. He smiled, still amazed by his good fortune. Knowing the place and approximate time his prey would appear were boons he’d never expected. Soon, he would have another subject for his studies.
The nearest streetlamp was about 20 feet away, but it was behind him on the same side of the street, leaving him in the shadows of the cab. He pulled a pair of binoculars from the bag on the seat next to him. He didn’t expect to find any video cameras on the street; it would be unusual in this quiet, residential neighborhood, but he checked anyway.
After twenty minutes, he was convinced there were none, or at least, none that he was going to spot. He turned his attention to the building. It was an old, two-story apartment building with four units – two up and two down. In its day, it would have been considered opulent, but that day would have been around 1910. Now, it was modest living for singles or couples.
There were six steps leading up to a brick and stone portico, which was bounded by low shrubs on each side. The front door was massive, with a large, beveled glass pane. It had probably been clear originally, but because of security or privacy or both, it was now frosted. Sconces on either side of the door provided light to the returning resident. But economic concerns had outweighed security in recent years, and the illumination they provided was meager compared to the street lights. Most of the door and all the portico’s floor was in shadow.
Above the door, there was a transom window with the address painted in gold numerals. The rest of the glass was clear. Still higher, there was a large, picture window, apparently on the second-floor landing. It too was clear.
Using the binoculars, the Experimenter checked the ceilings of the entry hall and the landing. He saw nothing. He started the van and backed up about three feet, allowing him to check the left most corner of each ceiling. There they were – two video cameras, one on each floor.
Of Half a Mind Page 17
