Virtuality

by H. L. Wegley

  And, if that not-dead scenario turned to reality, the path to control of Virtuality’s technology might go directly through Vince van Gordon’s funeral. But killing Vince created the mother of all plan killers, complexity. Worst case, Trent might have to instruct Sal to steal the technology. If so, MMI might have to hold onto it for months, maybe a couple of years, before it became safe to use it in any products. Competitors would gain on them, cutting into their profits. But, if they had to steal everything, there would be no other alternatives because, if found, Trent could be implicated in theft and possibly a murder or two.

  “Watch Patrick Michaels’ office and the local news. Let me know the minute you hear anything.”

  Trent pressed the red icon on his phone. Then he began two parallel tasks. First, he fabricated the story he would tell the MMI board if things went awry. Second, he created a mental list of the foreign accounts he had access to, places he could squirrel away funds in case he had to run and hide.

  All these problems could be traced back to that babe, Jessica Jamison—beautiful, smart, a martial arts expert, a woman who climbed rock faces for fun—where did van Gordon find her? In some James Bond movie?

  Chapter 22

  “Remember, you haven’t seen us since you took us to her apartment in Kennewick.” Vince handed the cab driver a hefty tip before getting out at the fifteenth green of the Fairwood Golf Course.

  “You got it. Good luck, dude. Take care of the young lady, you hear.”

  Vince nodded and smiled. The cabbie was pushing seventy but, during their time with him, the man spoke a mixture of Millennial, Generation X, and Baby-Boomer slang. Obviously, he tried to make all his passengers comfortable. It was a good sign that they could trust him.

  Jess ran behind Vince across the fifteenth green toward the far side of the creek. The stream flowed through a huge culvert and under the fairway.

  “Take care of the young lady, the man says.” Jess snorted a soft laugh. “I’ve been doing that all day.”

  “Yeah. You did take care of yourself.” Vince stopped at the creek’s edge. “Until the river.”

  She curled an arm around Vince’s waist. “I didn’t forget about the river. You saved my life. I’d like to forget it, because I’m probably going to have nightmares for the next year.”

  “So the princess doesn’t always have her warrior inside? Maybe you need someone to help you with—”

  “Help me with nightmares? Be careful, Vince. You wouldn’t want to get flagged for illegal procedure.”

  “Jess, I played defense. Strong safety. They can’t flag me for that. But princess warrior…” He studied her shadowy form for a moment. “Though she be but little, she is fierce.”

  “Where did that come from? And I’m not little.”

  “It came from Shakespeare. And little … that depends on what I’m measuring.”

  She cupped his cheeks and twisted his head until he faced the creek. “If you want to measure something, measure that cliff we have to climb.”

  “Yeah. The creek’s almost dry, but it does look a little like the Grand Canyon behind Paul’s house.”

  Vince led Jess fifty yards up the creek bed, then stopped and craned his neck to see the top of the cliff against the moonlit sky. It wasn’t rock climbing. But, in the darkness, it wasn’t much easier. Just a little safer. No rocks. And the soil was soft clay. A person would tumble and slide down it but wouldn’t get hurt unless they cracked their head on one of the large stones that lay in the creek bed.

  Using cedar saplings and large ferns as climbing aids, Vince worked his way up the steep bank lining the creek.

  Jess followed close behind him.

  After they reached the top, Vince moved to the edge of the greenbelt. The backyard lawn and west side of the house looked safe.

  He pulled the key ring from his pocket and pulled Jess with him across the lawn to the small garage door on the west side of the house. “I haven’t gotten the hang of the alarm system. I didn’t turn it on, so we can go in without alerting anyone who might be watching the front.”

  Vince unlocked the garage door and they slipped inside.

  The lights on both garage door openers lit as the sensors detected them.

  Vince ran to the opposite side of the garage and flipped off the switch powering the doors.

  The lights went out.

  He walked to the freezer on the side of the garage and cracked the freezer door giving them some light, but not enough to be visible outside the garage.

  “I need to see if anyone’s watching from the street. If they saw the garage door lights, we could be in trouble.”

  “You’re not going anywhere without me, Vince van Gordon.” Jess hooked his arm. “And you said you were working on a plan to get us out of here. How’s that going?”

  “Working on it, Jess.”

  “That’s what you said an hour ago. That’s a little slow for the second fastest guy on the football team.”

  “Does Jess, the genius, have a plan?”

  “As a matter of fact … “

  Jess had left the plan hanging, nebulous and, as Vince’s rigid posture said, worrisome.

  “As a matter of fact? I haven’t heard any facts that matter, Jess.”

  “You flipped the power switch for the doors, so we have to manually open them, then get in the truck, back up onto the street, and try to get away in the truck. That will take twenty or thirty seconds, minimum. With the guns they have, if they’re out there, they’ll kill us before we leave the cul-de-sac.”

  “I still haven’t heard any facts about your plan.” Vince’s sarcastic tone indicated he wouldn’t like her proposal.

  “Vince, I know how to find out if they’re out watching without driving out there and getting shot.”

  “Yeah. We can walk out and get shot.”

  She ignored Vince’s sarcastic remark. “I assume Paul’s clothes are still in the house.”

  “You’re changing the subject.”

  “No. You’re not cooperating. Are Paul’s clothes still here?”

  “Where else would they be? I’ve been in Seattle for four nights, but we’ve been on the run since the memorial service. I haven’t had a chance to—”

  “Paul loved wearing oversized sweatshirts with hoods. I’ll put on one and sneak out the back, cross a few backyards to the end of cul-de-sac. If it looks I’m coming from one of the houses, disguised by a hoodie, I can walk out of the cul-de-sac to the boulevard and—”

  “No way, Jess. I’m not letting you expose yourself like that.”

  “But, Vince, I can slip into a pair of Paul’s jeans and shoes. They’re not going to know it’s me. I’ll just be some guy going to the bus stop on the boulevard.”

  “King County Metro doesn’t run out here until the commute starts.”

  “But they don’t know that.”

  “No. I’ll do it. Not you, Jess.”

  “Sure. Six-foot-three, Invincible Vince can just masquerade as a midget and see if they’re watching the house.” She was right and Vince knew it.

  He shook his head, but the resignation grew on his face.

  “Come on. Let’s go in and get my costume.”

  “Yeah.” He had agreed, verbally, but Vince wasn’t moving toward the door.

  She took his hand and tugged.

  Vince pulled the key ring from his pocket, closed the freezer, and followed Jess to the house door. “While you steal my brother’s clothes, I’ll get the pickup keys. They’re upstairs too.”

  He unlocked the door to the downstairs, then led Jess inside and they trotted up the stairs. Vince stopped at the door to the family room off the kitchen.

  The moon’s faint light shining in through the big slider revealed the top of the roll-top desk against the near wall of the family room. Vince picked up a small flashlight and turned it on, then rummaged through a basket of miscellaneous items on the desk.

  “Here are the pickup keys. But … Jess?” Vince stared at an eig
ht-by-ten picture sitting on the roll-top. “This is the same picture that sat on Paul’s casket. Who are all these kids?”

  “That was taken at the home.”

  “You’ve mentioned that place three or four times. But—”

  “I’ll take you there, Vince, when there’s no one shooting at us.”

  “Provided we’re still—”

  “We will be.” She circled his waist with her arms. “We’ve got to be. If we don’t make it through this—there’s more to lose than you think.” Jess headed down the long hallway to the master bedroom.

  “Time to make your fashion statement?”

  “Help me find a big hoodie.”

  Vince slipped by her into the master bedroom and slid open the mirrored doors of the large closet.

  Jess started pulling sweatshirts off the shelves lining the top of the closet.

  Vince knelt on the floor. What was he doing?

  In the peripheral glow of the flashlight, it looked like he was pulling inserts out of running shoes.

  She grabbed the bulkiest hoodie she could find, then rummaged through the hanging clothes for a pair of jeans. Jess snagged a pair of slim-fit jeans and pulled a belt from a hook on the side of the closet.

  Vince rose beside her and shoved a pair of hiking boots at her. “Here. Paul wore size eleven shoes, so I stuffed his hiking boots with inserts from his running shoes. Along with the boots, these will make you about three inches taller.”

  Jess took the boots and pointed at the bedroom door. “Out, Vince. I’m getting dressed.”

  “That’s silly. You’re just putting these on over—”

  “I don’t care if it’s silly or not. You’re not watching me dress. That’s … uncomfortable.”

  “Not as uncomfortable as you’re going to be with all this stuff on you.” Vince walked into Paul’s office across the hallway. “I’m going to peek out front to see if there’s anything suspicious.”

  Jess pulled on the sweatshirt and slid her legs into the jeans. The belt was elastic, so it should work. The sandals she’d been wearing were strapped on and had somehow survived the river. She pulled them off and stuffed them in the front pocket of the hoodie. After putting on a thick pair of Paul’s socks, Jess managed to fill the hiking boots enough to walk with a near normal gait.

  She stepped into the hallway, pulled the hood over her head, and stuffed her hands in the hoodie pocket. When she turned sideways, the moon shining through the bedroom window should give Vince a shadowy profile of her from where he stood across the hallway. “Well, do I look like a six-foot man with a medium build?”

  “No. Jess … you, uh …”

  “What?”

  “You need to keep your hands out of the pockets. They pull the sweatshirt down and stretch it over … well, it’s obvious you’re a woman when you do that.”

  “With all I’ve got on, no one would notice that, unless they were really focusing—”

  “Exactly.” He paused. “I don’t think you should go out there, Jess.”

  “I’ll be fine. You watch me from the living room as I go by. I’ll slip out the downstairs slider.”

  “What if I say you’re not going out there?” He moved toward her.

  “I can kick a lot harder with these boots.”

  “I’m an injured man, Jess. You wouldn’t kick me after you doctored me.”

  “Wanna try me?”

  “As a matter of fact—”

  “Vince, I’ll be fine.”

  His strong arms wrapped her up and squeezed the breath out of her. “Be careful out there. If anyone tries to stop you, run straight into the green belt and come around to the back door. I’ll leave the downstairs slider open.”

  She pressed her cheek into his chest. “Okay. But, if nothing happens, when I reach the boulevard, I’ll go into the next cul-de-sac and come back through the green belt. We leave in the pickup, immediately, if I don’t see anything suspicious.”

  Vince pushed back her hood and kissed her forehead. “Please, be careful out there, Jess. I’ll be watching you all the way to the boulevard.”

  Vince released her.

  Jess hurried down the stairs and slipped outside through the slider to the back patio.

  Two minutes later she walked beside a house at the end of the cul-de-sac.

  A small dog in one of the houses started yapping.

  She had to walk normally, not act suspicious, and not let a dog deter her.

  154th Place Southeast was a short street connecting a cul-de-sac to the boulevard. The few cars parked on the street sat directly in front of houses and all the cars appeared empty.

  Jess passed by Paul’s house, the second one in from the corner, and continued her slow walk toward the boulevard. As she passed the house on the corner, she looked to her left, up the steep hill on the boulevard.

  A dark-colored SUV had parked about thirty yards up the hill. To her recollection, she’d never seen a car park there. Parking on the outside of a downhill curve could get a person’s vehicle sideswiped.

  It looked like the SUV she had seen across the parking lot from Virtuality’s lab.

  Now what? Jess was supposed to be a resident out walking for some reason. Her heart revved up to somewhere near her redline.

  You’ve got to think, Jessica Jamison.

  What would a resident do if they saw a car parked on that hill? They would think it odd to see a vehicle parked there and would wonder what the driver was up to. But, at this time of night, they wouldn’t investigate.

  Jess stopped, put her hands on her hips and turned toward the SUV. After she had stared at the vehicle for four or five seconds, its headlights came on and it pulled away from the curb.

  She held her breath until it passed her.

  The SUV continued down the boulevard.

  It had to be one or more of the thugs. Vince and Jess needed to get away before it returned.

  As soon as the SUV rounded the turn and disappeared, Jess turned, ran back to the house and came in through the downstairs slider.

  Vince met her at the door. “It was them, wasn’t it?”

  “I think so.”

  “What did they do?”

  “They left, headed toward the main entrance to Fairwood.” Jess pulled out her sandals and peeled off the extra clothing.

  “So I can’t watch you put your clothes on, but I get to watch you take them off?”

  “Vince, this is no time for smart remarks. We’ve got to get out of here before they come back. Open the garage door. I’ll be there as soon as I can strap on my sandals.”

  Less than a minute later, with Jess beside him, Vince backed the pickup up the steep driveway to the street, put it in gear, and rolled down 154th Place toward the boulevard. “If we see no headlights, I’m going to head up the hill and leave Fairwood the back way. Watch behind us, Jess. If you don’t see any headlights, we’re home free.”

  She saw no headlights.

  Fifteen minutes later, Jess looked at the pickup’s clock. 3:50 a.m. After the events of this night, she was exhausted. But they would be at the cabin in about thirty minutes.

  She looked at Vince behind the wheel.

  His head had nodded twice in the last minute.

  Jess put her hand on his shoulder.

  Vince glanced her way then sat up in the seat. “Tell me where to turn when we get to the lake.”

  Jess smiled.

  * * *

  Vince had nearly run off Kent-Kangley Road when he fell asleep at Y intersection with Retreat-Kanaskat Road.

  But Jess had punched his shoulder in time to make the turn.

  He fought off another attack of drowsiness and managed to stay awake for the next mile to the cabin on the south side of Lake Retreat.

  The cabin was a small, rustic log house well-hidden in the trees across the street from the lake. The gunmen would never find them here. First, they wouldn’t be able to spot the pickup from the lane. But, more importantly, they would have to find out abou
t the cabin’s existence and location from some other source. That was highly unlikely, unless they managed to hack Jess’s email and she had mentioned the cabin in a message.

  He and Jess would be safe for the night.

  It was 4:30 a.m. when Jess pulled out a key hidden under a landscaping brick and unlocked the door. She headed straight for the shower.

  Vince couldn’t blame her after climbing Choss Master, getting abducted, escaping from kidnappers, then swimming the river and tramping through the woods.

  But some things were more important than personal hygiene. Vince headed straight for the couch and crashed.

  “Vince … Vince, you need to take a shower.”

  He heard her words, but was he awake, dreaming, or somewhere in between?

  His legs wouldn’t move. Neither would his arms. And his mouth wouldn’t cooperate.

  Vince lay in that twilight-zone stupor of semi-consciousness. Slowly his tongue returned from paralysis to conscious control. “Jess, I’m beat. Take the bedroom. I’ll sleep here.”

  Jess sat beside him on the couch. “You need to shower. You’re a mess.”

  He reached for her shoulders.

  Jess leaned away from him. “First, you need to take a shower. You’re soiling my grandparents couch.”

  He sat up. “I haven’t soiled anything since I was three.”

  “That’s not exactly what I meant. I’m clean. You’re not.” Jess raised her eyebrows.

  “Oh.” Now that she was clean, she wouldn’t let him touch her in his current state. “Unclean. Unclean.” Vince stood, scooped up his small duffle bag and stumbled toward the bathroom.

  The clock in the hallway said 5:00 a.m. when Vince shuffled out of the bathroom, clean but rapidly slipping into that stupor again. He collapsed on the couch and noticed it had built-in recliners. He pulled a lever on the side, leaned back, and his feet rose. “Take the bed, Jess. I’m crashing here … now …” Vince’s head rolled to one side and he gave in to his exhaustion.