Virtuality

by H. L. Wegley

  “Patrick, since I’m the new majority owner of Virtuality, I want to inspect my company. First, I want to—”

  “You want to see the lab. Who would have guessed.” Patrick still blocked the door to his office.

  Vince turned away from Patrick, walked to the lab door, and fiddled with the cipher lock.

  The entry door to the lab was not the place to start this discussion. A war, maybe. But, if a war looked likely, Jess would insert herself before things got ugly.

  Vince looked Patrick’s way. “Well, are you going to open this door, or—”

  “Can’t do that. The equipment, the system, its design, and specifications are all classified. Top Secret. You have no clearance and no need to know.”

  “I’m the owner. Of course I have a need to know.”

  Patrick sneered at Vince. “Not according to DOD regulations, and I’m the security officer for this facility. If you violate security, I will be forced to call my DOD supervisor, General McCheney. Vince, you don’t want the military or the FBI coming after you, certainly not with the security concerns our nation has right now. They would lock you up and throw away the key.”

  Patrick’s warnings seemed to have taken away some of Vince’s anger. But this afternoon was far from over, and Vince could be a bulldog when he sank his teeth into something.

  Jess hurried to Vince’s side. “You know, Vince will need the same level of clearance as Paul had. What does he need to do get it?”

  Patrick gave her a crooked smile. “Fill out the forms and I’ll submit them.”

  The scowl on Vince’s face faded. “How long will that take?”

  “Last time I checked, Top-Secret clearances were taking six months to a year.”

  Vince’s scowl came back, and he took a step toward Patrick.

  Jess hooked Vince’s arm. “While I was doing research at the U, we sometimes got temporary clearances on an ad hoc basis. They didn’t take six months.”

  “You must mean Interim Security Eligibility. That still takes favorable completion of a minimum investigation. I’ll check on it.”

  Vince glared at Patrick. “You do that. And Jess will need eligibility too.”

  “Why her?”

  “Because she’s my assistant, my advisor for all technical matters at Virtuality Incorporated. That’s why.”

  “If you say so. Tomorrow I’ll check on the requirements for interim eligibility.”

  Jess pulled Vince away from Patrick. “Come on, Vince. We wouldn’t want to make Patrick call the general.”

  The lab door swung open.

  Vince and Jess turned toward it.

  A twenty-something man walked in wearing a strange looking suit with a hat-like contraption that partially covered his head.

  Patrick’s eyes widened. “Walker, I told you—”

  “Patrick …” The man continued walking toward Patrick. “You said if I took a cut in pay, you’d give me more—”

  “Not here, Walker. In my office.” Patrick turned toward Vince. “Good afternoon, Mr. van Gordon.”

  Walker entered the office and Patrick closed the door behind them.

  “Wait a minute, Vince.” Jess opened and then firmly closed the lobby door. She tiptoed to Patrick’s office door.

  Vince tried to follow, but she waved him back.

  The suit, the head contraption, digitized nerve data transferred using Paul’s algorithms, the algorithms she had coded—a picture began to form. Though fuzzy, the picture gave her bad vibes that sent a chill through her shoulders and up the back of her neck. Jess pressed her ear to the door, listening to see if her suspicions about Walker were correct.

  Walker argued with Patrick—something about more time. The young man sounded like he was losing it. Almost like—she shuddered.

  Jess had seen and heard druggies exhibit the same characteristics as Walker. What in heaven’s name was going on in that lab? Or was it more like in hell’s name?

  Patrick said something about giving Walker more time. But the conversation behind the door grew too soft to hear. The confrontation might be ending.

  Jess pointed toward the main entry door and mouthed, “Hurry.”

  She slipped out the door behind Vince and closed it.

  They got in the car and Vince drove across the parking area and toward the road.

  At the far edge of the parking lot, Jess looked back at the lab door. It remained closed. “Vince, that guy, Walker, gave me bad vibes. What did you think about him?”

  “Looked like a geek to me. Probably a programmer. Didn’t care for his geek outfit though. What did you hear through the door?”

  “Maybe my imagination is just running wild. But I’d almost swear there are some horribly vile things going down in the lab, things the Army needs to know about.” And things that Vince and I need to stop.

  “Like what? Did you hear something?”

  “It sounded like Virtuality might be doing more than what’s in the Army contract. Maybe trying to develop other products at the Army’s expense.”

  Vince turned onto the Snoqualmie Parkway, headed toward Highway 18. “That’s why we need to get into the lab. Any ideas about how we do that without ending up in the federal pen and losing the Army contract?”

  “From what I’ve heard, an interim clearance, in your situation, is almost automatic. It shouldn’t take long.”

  “Automatic?”

  “You’re squeaky clean, Vince. It should be automatic.”

  “But, Jess, you weren’t with me for the past seven years. You don’t know what—”

  “Yes, I do. I know you’re squeaky clean or I wouldn’t be here sitting beside you.”

  Vince’s mouth dropped open as realization flashed in his eyes. “You didn’t—”

  “But I did.” She gave Vince her enigmatic smile, the one that used to drive him crazy. “I hacked WSU’s administration system and verified my suspicions about your college years, then ran a background check on you. You cost me twenty-five dollars, but you came out clean.”

  “Did you think I wouldn’t? And why were you so interested in me that you would—”

  “Not now, Vince.” Jess lowered her voice. “When the time is right, we can have that discussion.”

  Vince’s sigh could have been in relief or from frustration. After seven years, Jess couldn’t tell. At least he had cooled off. “Back to your clearance. What I did when I checked up on you was about the same level of investigation as the NBIB would do for an interim clearance.”

  “If that’s true, it means Patrick is stalling, stonewalling us.”

  “Maybe. But there’s a guy I went to grad school with who got a job with a defense contractor. He works on classified defense systems, and he lives in Issaquah. When we get to I-90, head west. We can go through Issaquah on our way back. I’ll call him and see if we can meet with him after work this afternoon. He can probably tell us what’s required for an interim clearance and how long it takes.”

  “Okay.” Vince glanced her way. “But back to that programmer that gave you bad vibes.”

  “Him?” Jess shook her head in disgust. How could she feel sorry for a person like him? “He acted like a druggie. An intelligent druggie, but still someone who needs something badly, something in that lab, something Patrick controls.”

  “Patrick’s not stupid enough to run a drug operation when he can make millions from a legal business.”

  “No. He’s not,” Jess said.

  “We need to do some brainstorming about what we might find in the lab. And we need a contingency plan to shut down the work if there’s anything illegal going on, or if there’s been a breach of contract.”

  Vince was right. And they would probably need the U.S. Army’s help to do that. “Something else you need to do is to get to know the project manager for the Army. Whatever happens, we’ll need an ally in the DOD, probably that general Patrick mentioned.”

  “McCheney?”

  “Yes.” Jess pulled out her cell phone. “We�
�re almost to I-90. I’m going to call Mike Rothermel, the guy I mentioned. With a little luck, we can be legally inside the lab in a couple of weeks.”

  “Once Patrick realizes that, he could get desperate and—”

  “I know, Vince. From now on, we need to be looking over our shoulders twenty-four-seven. And we need to consider that the person we need to worry about may not be Patrick.”

  Chapter 11

  Vince slowed as he drove down the Snoqualmie Parkway. The on-ramp to I-90 lay only a quarter of a mile ahead. Were they going to Issaquah or going home?

  Jess had the cell in her ear, her eyes focused on the dash, and a scowl on her face.

  “Jess, I-90 or Highway 18?”

  She looked up at him. “Just a sec, Mike … Highway 18, Vince. Mike is busy this afternoon. But we’re talking over the issues now.”

  Vince sang part of the chorus from that old Simon and Garfunkel song, Homeward Bound.

  Jess shook her head and plugged her free ear.

  Instead of annoying Jess, maybe he should track the conversation, though he could only hear Jess's end.

  Jess continued talking with a finger in one ear. “Mike, who initiates a request for an interim clearance? … That would be Patrick in our case … In your experience, how long would that take … I understand … Vince is the equivalent of the CEO of the company and he's pure as the driven snow.”

  Jess looked up at him and her smile tweaked one corner of her mouth. “Well, he thinks he is … Three or four weeks … Thanks, Mike. Good luck on your business proposal.” She ended the call and her scowl returned.

  “So I should have an interim clearance in three or four weeks?”

  Jess shook her head. “Should have, yes. But you won't.”

  The truth about Patrick's actions was becoming clear and heat rose on Vince's neck. “Patrick's sitting on a fortune, so he wants to retain control, indefinitely, right?”

  “He's stonewalling. But, Vince, I don't think he's dangerous.”

  “After my car was hacked and we almost wrecked? He's dangerous. And I've had just about enough of Patrick Michaels.”

  “You need to settle down, Vince.”

  “Look. I made a promise to Paul not to give Patrick control of Virtuality, and I'm not going to sit still and let him continue to run the company. Jess, he’s stealing control.”

  “If we put our minds to it, we can come up with some way to stop him.”

  The heat on Vince's neck reached flashpoint. “Oh, I can come up with a way to stop him. I'll beat the living crud out of that little geek.”

  “Stop it, Vince. You’re out of control. Just like that time when …”

  Jess had always hated it when he lost his temper. But sometimes brute force, with a little anger and intimidation, could accomplish a lot in a short time. He tried glaring at her.

  The glare she returned hit him like a cutting torch.

  Too late. He had pushed Jess over the edge and Vince would now suffer the consequences.

  The cutting torch turned icy cold in her pale-blue eyes. “Snoqualmie—been there, done that. Take me back to my apartment, now.”

  The anger in her voice combined with a reference to the only serious argument they’d had as kids almost pulled an apology out of him. Almost. But he’d promised Paul that he wouldn’t let Patrick do precisely what Patrick was doing, controlling Virtuality.

  Vince pressed harder on the accelerator and delivered Jess to her apartment in Kent in record time.

  Neither had spoken since Jess’s command to take her home. And after he stopped in front of her apartment, Jess got out, walked to the door and didn't look back.

  That she could do that drove a knife into his gut, followed by the heat, the kind that only Jess could induce.

  Vince made a U-turn, with his tires squealing, and headed toward Southeast 256th Street, the shortest route back to Highway 18. Once on 256th, he slowed.

  He wanted to confront Patrick alone, and the best chance of that was to arrive in the evening, about eight or nine o’clock. Vince took an alternate route to Snoqualmie, a route that would take at least an hour longer.

  * * *

  At five till nine, as the sun dropped below the horizon in the northwestern sky, Vince rolled to a stop in front of the Virtuality lab.

  Someone in a white lab coat opened the main entryway door.

  Vince ran to the door before the man closed it. “I've got an appointment with Patrick.”

  “He's in.” The lab coat looked clean, but the guy’s face was dripping with perspiration and he had other personal hygiene issues.

  Vince wanted to ask the lab worker a few questions, but the strong body odor changed Vince’s mind. He held his breath and went into the lobby.

  Patrick's office door stood open.

  Vince charged in.

  Patrick looked up from his chair behind his desk and froze. “What are you—”

  “Shut it, Patrick!” Vince strode around the desk and stood, towering over Patrick.

  He rolled his chair backward a couple of feet. “You need to leave. I—I can call the police.”

  “If you really needed the police, I can guarantee you they would be too late.” Vince grabbed a fistful of Patrick’s shirt. “You will put in applications for my and Jess’s interim clearances, and you will follow up on those applications.”

  Now it was time to bluff. “We will have our interim clearance approval in four weeks or less, or I'm the one who's going to call the general. And when I do, I think he's going to find certain irregularities in the lab, and the discrepancies in Virtuality’s books, extremely interesting.”

  Patrick’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.

  Vince shoved Patrick's chest sending him rolling backward, crashing into a wall.

  Patrick's eyes searched the room with darting glances. Was he looking for a weapon?

  “No more stonewalling. Have I made myself clear?” Vince stepped forward and glared down into Patrick's wide eyes.

  He didn't reply.

  Vince took another step toward Patrick. “I asked if I made myself clear.”

  Patrick's breathing had become panting, but the pudgy little man tried to maintain a façade of calmness. “Perfectly.”

  “Finally, we understand each other … partner.” Vince whirled and left the office, thankful that he hadn't followed through on the impulse to do more than send Patrick rolling across the floor in his office chair.

  At Vince’s last glimpse of Patrick, before the office door closed, the short man rifled through a file. Maybe looking for the security forms. If not, Patrick would regret it.

  Vince stopped inside the lobby when he saw a man in a lab coat headed toward the lab door.

  Should I or should I not?

  Stupid question. Virtuality was Vince’s company and he needed to know what was going down in that lab.

  He walked toward the exit door, then turned and followed the lab worker.

  The man keyed in a code and the door lock clicked. He entered, and the door closed automatically, but slowly. The man had never looked back.

  Vince scurried to the closing door and stopped it with his foot. He pushed the door open a few inches and peered in.

  The lab worker disappeared behind a partition near the center of the lab.

  Vince slipped inside the lab and moved to his right where five or six cubicle-like structures lined the outer wall. Each had seven-foot-high panels blocking his view of the interior.

  Computers lined most of the left side of the large, open-bay lab.

  At the far end, on the right, footsteps pounded the floor like someone was running.

  Vince strode to the first cubicle on the right and hurried through its open doorway.

  A play area? That seemed to be a good description, because the center of the cubicle contained a multi-directional treadmill built into the floor.

  The treadmill looked to be about ten feet in diameter. Near the circular treadmill, a strange looking body su
it lay on a stool. What appeared to be a TV remote lay on the body suit.

  He picked up the remote and studied the icons on it. Play, pause, stop, fast forward and rewind.

  Vince picked up the body suit and set the remote down. Underneath the suit, he found a helmet-like headset with goggles attached. The suit had both a shirt and pants made of a highly elastic fabric. He stretched the shirt to the width of his shoulders. It looked big enough for his six-foot-three, two-hundred-twenty-pound frame. And it had built-in gloves to cover his hands.

  The question he asked earlier came again.

  Should I, or shouldn’t I?

  The answers to some of his and Jess’s questions about possible misuse of the lab likely lay in front of him. Vince stuck his head out of the cubicle and scanned the lab. No one. And, if he closed the sliding partition on the cubicle, no one could see him.

  Vince slid the partition closed, picked up the shirt, and examined the metallic buttons distributed irregularly over the fabric.

  Something like electrodes? He would soon find out.

  Vince pulled off his shirt and slipped into the body-suit’s shirt, pushing his fingers into the gloves. He would pass on the pants.

  After scooping up the headset and adjusting its straps, he managed to get it positioned on his head, because it seemed to have only one position that would fit. The goggles were tinted, but he could see clearly through them.

  Patrick, it’s time to show me what you’ve been up to.

  He picked up the controller, took a deep breath, and pushed the play button.

  Lights blinked on a rack of computer equipment that stood against the cubicle’s back wall. The floor beneath Vince’s feet buzzed sending a strange sensation through his feet and up his legs.

  He moved to the center of the ten-foot circle. The treadmill had become an extension of his feet and moved with him as if he were walking across the floor, yet it kept Vince in place.

  The lab cubicle around him faded out and, slowly, something entirely different faded in.

  A warm breeze tickled the hair on his arm. Vince gasped as a waterfall appeared, directly ahead.

  The water cascaded thirty feet downward into a clear pool of water surrounded by palm trees and other lush, green vegetation, punctuated by clusters of flowers—lavender, white, orange and yellow.