Virtuality

by H. L. Wegley

  “Jess, you've loved Paul ever since you were thirteen or fourteen. You just had to settle for his little brother.”

  Jess gasped as Vince’s words cut deeply into the quick of a heart already wounded and raw. What hurt most was the words weren't true. But the man she loved obviously believed they were. If that’s what he believed, other things, hurtful things, had an explanation that finally made sense. “Do you mean you've thought, since we started high school … that I wanted Paul more than you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I can’t believe we haven’t already had this conversation. We were supposed to share everything, remember? I even admitted to you that I had a crush on Paul.”

  “But you never said it ended.”

  “How could you—”

  Vince cut her off. “I didn't say anything because I wanted—no, I needed to be with you. But, eventually, I couldn't stand being with you, knowing I was only a friend, not a person you would ever want like I wanted you.”

  “Is that why you ended our date early after the National Honor Society dinner? Why you let me walk to my door alone, while you just drove away and left me in tears?”

  “I hurt you, didn't I?”

  “No. You crushed me, Vince. And you nearly killed me a year later, when you left to go away to college and then never came back … for seven years. You never even called me.”

  “So losing your dearest friend crushed you?”

  “No. Losing the only person I trust, the one who knows me better than anyone, the man I loved—that crushed me.”

  “But what about Paul?”

  “You were evidently so caught up in your sibling rivalry that you didn't even see me. And you didn't know me like I believed you did. I thought there was something wrong with me, Vince. Because there was some reason you couldn’t love me like I loved you.”

  “No, Jess. I loved you so much that I couldn't stand the thought of you marrying my brother. So when Patrick told me that—”

  “Patrick? What does he have to do with this?”

  “When I forced him to take me into the lab, Patrick let it slip that you and Paul had … well, you had something going until Paul got sick.”

  “Let it slip? He's a liar. I'll kill that little twerp! Vince, don’t you see what he was doing? He was trying the divide and conquer strategy.”

  “Keep it down, Jess. They’ll hear you and come to check on us.”

  She didn’t feel like keeping it down. She felt like slapping some sense into Vince’s thick head. “You believed Patrick, didn't you?”

  “I didn't know whether—”

  “Don’t you lie to me, Vince van Gordon. We could be dead in another hour. This isn’t a time for lies.”

  “What Patrick said … it seemed to fit with everything I saw, except—”

  “Except what? What happened after the waterfall?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Think about it, Vince. I've been hanging all over you since you came back. I even dressed like some hooker just to—”

  “Not a hooker. Like a supermodel.”

  “Whatever. But have you ever seen me do that for anybody? I was still hurt by your leaving, but hopeful about your return. Hopeful for us. I don't make friends easily. You know that. So I invested everything I had in you. There was never anyone else except for one, silly, schoolgirl crush on Paul when I was thirteen. It was gone the minute I realized Paul was in high school and had his own friends. He had outgrown you and me. From then on, and even before then, it was you, Vince, only you.”

  She rested her head on Vince’s chest.

  He took his hand under her chin and lifted. “Can you forgive me, Jess. Even if it’s too late for us to—”

  “Of course, I forgive you.” When Jess finished speaking the words, the darkness of the shed seemed awash with light and hope.

  Vince pulled her head to his chest. “I'm not going to leave you or lose you again. And I'm not going to let those Three Stooges rob us of what we have.”

  “And you’re sure about what we have?”

  “I’m sure. But how can you ever trust me after—”

  “After you lied about moving the drive with the software, so they would torture you instead of me? I trust you, Vince. I believe in you. Paul believed in you or he wouldn’t have entrusted Virtuality to you. But you need to learn to believe in yourself.” Jess paused, wishing she could see Vince’s eyes. That would tell her what she needed to know. It always had.

  “Jess, I—I …”

  She couldn’t see his eyes and Vince was out of words. “We don’t have any more time for rehashing our past. Right now, we need a plan, a plan to ambush them when they open that door, or we won’t have a future.”

  Vince kissed her forehead. “When the door opens, we pretend we’re still zip-tied together, at least it will look that way to them for a few seconds. That should give us enough time to see their positions and their guns. We need to know that because—”

  “Because we’ve got to take out Curly first.”

  “Yeah. And I can do that if he’s close enough. What I’ll have to do is gruesome, but it will take him out of the fight.”

  Jess leaned her head on his shoulder. “What do I need to do?”

  “While I jump Curly, uh, Sal, you watch his gun. If he drops it, grab it. If not, look for somebody to kick. Even if you can only knock them down, or stun them, it will buy us a few seconds.”

  “Is that it?”

  “Yeah. It’s all I've got. For anything beyond that, we just wing it.”

  “And we pray,” Jess said.

  “Yeah. Harder than we’ve ever prayed before. I love you, Jess and, after all we’ve been through to get to this moment, I can’t believe that God doesn't want us to spend the rest of our lives together. So I’ll ask Him to make that happen.”

  “What if they kill us? That would answer your prayer. Don’t you need to be a little more specific, like asking Him for the rest of our lives to include more than the next few minutes.” She paused. “Vince, part of the zip cuffs are still around our wrists. Let’s practice putting our wrists together, making it look like we’re still cuffed.”

  “Okay, but let’s do it while we’re standing, so we’re ready to attack.”

  She pushed her wrists against Vince’s. “A dress rehearsal in the dark. But we can’t even see if we look cuffed or not.”

  “It’ll have to do.”

  Footsteps sounded outside.

  “They’re coming, Jess. Get ready.”

  Jess focused on the door at the spot where Vince would attack Sal with his pocket knife. She prayed it would be Sal’s face there when the door opened.

  The rasping noise of the shovel being removed came from the door.

  The door swung open.

  Chapter 28

  Vince held his knife hand over his shoulder, ready to stab whoever appeared.

  The door creaked open.

  A silhouette appeared.

  Vince leaped at the head profiled in the doorway

  The face was too low. Patrick?

  Vince lowered his knife hand and crashed into Patrick, taking him to the ground.

  Jess had slipped out the door behind Vince. She froze beside him.

  Vince looked up from the ground.

  Five yards ahead, Sal, Joe, and Louie stood with weapons trained on Vince and Jess. Any resemblance of these three men to The Three Stooges had evaporated.

  Patrick groaned, then sat up on the ground. “Why did you jump me, Vince?”

  “I thought you were Curly, uh, Sal.”

  Larry poked Sal in the shoulder. “He insulted you again, boss.”

  Sal ignored Larry and his glaring, wide-set eyes focused on Vince. “Did you really think I would risk opening that door? What do you take me for, van Gordon? One of The Three Stooges? It looks like you’re providing the slapstick comedy this morning.”

  Vince stood and heat rose on his neck. He needed to channel his anger into words. Actions would get h
im shot. “I'd take you any way you came, Curly. Dumb or dumber.”

  Sal winced at Vince's words then sneered. “Tough talk for a man on the wrong end of an AK-47. You've caused us way too much trouble, so I'm gonna cut right to the chase. Where is the software you stole?”

  “What software?” Vince rose slowly to his feet.

  “Funny, van Gordon. So you’re a comedian now?” Sal swung his gun toward Jess. “Ms. Jamison doesn't look like a joker. Suppose you tell us where you put the software.”

  “It's in a place where you can't get it. Only those who are cleared and have a need to know can access it. You know, people like the FBI.”

  Sal’s face turned red. His fingers tightened on his weapon. “Suppose I don't believe you.”

  “Not everyone can handle the truth, Curly.”

  How long could Jess keep this up before Sal exploded? Vince studied the big man who had a clenched jaw and a bald head that grew redder by the second.

  All he and Jess could do was stall and hope for an opportunity to jump two men at once. He glanced at Jess.

  She nodded.

  Good. At least they were in sync on their plan of attack.

  Sal approached Vince but kept three paces between them. “Down on your knees, van Gordon.”

  Vince didn't want to leave his feet and lose the advantage of using his legs, but he had no choice. He dropped to a kneeling position.

  “No need for a hood. He knows what's coming.” Sal took a step forward and aimed his gun at Vince's head. “Say your prayers, it's night-night time.”

  Vince focused on Sal’s eyes and turned his imminent death into a staring contest.

  Sal broke eye contact, but his trigger hand tightened. The gun clicked once.

  “Don't! Or you'll never get the software.” Jess stepped between Vince and the gun barrel.

  Her shoulders dropped and she looked at the ground. “The software is all on my laptop.”

  “Jess?” What was she doing? She had a copy on her laptop, but another on the hidden USB drive. Was she going to risk giving them a copy, hoping the authorities could get it back? If so, Vince and Jess would never be alive to see that happen.

  “Where is this laptop?” Sal glared at her.

  “In the cabin.”

  What game was Jess playing? She couldn't be surrendering to them. If these men took the system software, the detailed design, and then hired programmers from Virtuality, the technology would soon be loose in the wild, infecting American society.

  “Patrick, get up,” Sal pointed a thumb up, then motioned toward the back door. “Check out her laptop and tell us if she gave us what we came for. All of it. And make sure she isn't trying to be funny like the comedian who's about to get shot.”

  Jess shoved a palm at Patrick as he got up from the ground. “Don't touch the laptop, Patrick. You'll destroy the software … everything, if you try to access it.”

  Sal poked his gun barrel at her. “You're lying.” He looked at Patrick, who now stood beside him, waiting.

  Patrick opened his mouth.

  Jess cut him off. “It's like a boot sector virus. If you try to access the encrypted files, everything on my hard drive will be wiped out.”

  Sal’s bald head wrinkled like a Shar Pei. “Boot sector virus?”

  “You know, it loads like a root kit, so you can’t circumvent it.”

  “Can she do that, Patrick?”

  Patrick looked from Jess to Sal. “It's possible. I don't know how to do it, but if she actually did that, you’ll lose everything unless she decrypts it for you.”

  “Well isn't that a fine howdy-do,” Curly said. “But I think our dark-haired beauty is bluffing.”

  “Maybe we should just shoot van Gordon and then torture the girl until she gives us what we want,” Louie said.

  “What’ve you got for a brain, Louie? You kill van Gordon, or hurt her, and she'll wipe out the software just to get even.”

  Vince rose slowly to his feet. “Sounds like a stalemate to me.”

  Sal shook his head. “Not quite.”

  “You still got your knife, Louie?”

  “Yes, boss.”

  “Then we'll start cutting off van Gordon's fingers until she gives us the software, unencrypted. Give me your knife.”

  So much for his stalemate. “You think I'm just gonna let you do that to me. You'd have to kill me first. In fact, you take one step toward me and I’ll force the issue. Now, who wants to get their neck broken first?”

  “Hold it, everybody!” Sal emptied his lungs with a sharp blast. “Louie, cover van Gordon. Shoot him if he even wiggles. I’ve got a phone call to make.” Sal went inside the cabin and shut the door.

  * * *

  Trent had run at least four scenarios through his analytical mind in the past forty-five minutes. Each resulted in a failure, an outcome where either MMI did not get Virtuality’s software or did not gain sufficient control over use of the technology.

  His conclusion was the same for either case. Trent would have to bail. Leave the country. Get a new identity and live off the money he had squirreled away in various accounts. And, of course, the four million he hadn’t used to buy van Gordon’s share of Virtuality.

  The rhythmical opening to New York, New York came from Trent’s cell. He snatched it from his desktop, drew a breath, and answered the cell a couple of bars before Old Blue Eyes began singing.

  “Del Valle, here. What’s up, Sal?”

  “We got a little situation here. Thought I should check with you before we start shooting people.”

  How had it come to this? Before pushing any panic buttons, Trent needed to listen. He might have even considered praying first but, according to the old priest who taught Trent the Catechism, the only person who might grant Trent’s request was not reliable. If he existed—what was it the priest had called that person—a liar and the father of lies?

  “Are you still there, Mr. Del Valle?”

  “I’m here.” He needed to listen to Sal’s story. Maybe there was a safe way out of their mess. “Tell me about this situation.”

  “Those two stole Virtuality’s software. The software is supposedly on Ms. Jamison’s laptop, but it’s encrypted and protected by a password. But, if you type it in wrong, the whole hard drive gets wiped out … that’s if she’s telling the truth.”

  “I knew that girl was trouble from the moment I heard she was involved. What options are you considering? That is why you called, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. We know there’s a thing between the babe and van Gordon, each protecting the other. So we can torture van Gordon in front of her until she breaks down and unlocks the hard drive. But van Gordon says he’ll fight us until we have to kill him, and …”

  Not good. “And?”

  “We could torture the babe until Vince can’t take it and lets us tie him up to torture him.”

  There were several ways this whole approach could fall apart in seconds. Revenge was a powerful motive, one some would die for. He would bet both the girl and van Gordon would sacrifice themselves.

  “Well, Mr. Del Valle, do we have your permission to hurt whoever we need to as much as we need to? You told us to ask before we did anything like this. I’m askin’.”

  “Do whatever you need to do to get the Jamison girl to unlock the drive. Whatever it takes, Romano.”

  “You got it. We’ll let you know how it turns out in a few minutes.”

  “Yes. See that you do.” Trent ended the call.

  He opened his contacts list and selected his private travel agent. Trent would buy a single, one-way ticket to Rio on a flight departing this afternoon. He would specify first class and book the trip under the name Hector Mendoza.

  Vince van Gordon and the girl had both demonstrated intelligence and toughness, beating Romano at each previous encounter. Trent would bet money that Sal would not get what he wanted from either of those two before something went terribly wrong.

  Trent had already verified that his
hidden accounts were in order. He’d cancelled the check for the four million that he had scraped up to buy out Vince van Gordon. He could access that money. Now, Trent needed to brush up on his Spanish and make sure he packed a Portuguese-English dictionary. This might be an extended Rio vacation because, once he left, he could never come back as Trenton Del Valle.

  * * *

  Vince looked up when Sal came out of the cabin, trying to read his body language. It wasn’t comforting.

  “Joe,” Sal pointed at Jess. “Put your gun on her foot. Shoot it if van Gordon moves.”

  Jess’s gaze locked with Vince’s. She had carried her bluff as far as she could. They had run out of options.

  Vince began the gut-wrenching process of resigning himself to what was coming.

  Sal pointed the knife at Louie. “Zip tie his arms around that big cedar tree. That should keep him still.”

  Louie, brandishing a zip tie, reached for Vince's arm.

  Vince pulled it away, but not with enough violence to get him shot. He looked at Jess.

  She wiped her cheek and her tear-filled eyes locked with his. She mouthed the words, “I love you, Vince.” Then, Jess’s body tensed as her gaze swung to the nearest gunman to her, Sal. She was going to plant a foot on Sal’s face.

  Vince crouched, ready to spring. He needed to reach Sal first. If so, maybe Jess could get his gun.

  “Wait a minute,” Patrick said. “There’s a better way to get what you want.”

  “Oh.” Sal stared at Patrick, waiting.

  “I... I think we—”

  A blast of crackling static sounded.

  Vince whirled toward the right side of the house, the source of the noise.

  “FBI! Put your weapons down and place your hands on your heads, now!”

  Vince put his hands on his head and stepped back from Louie. “Move away from them, Jess.”

  Louie put down his gun.

  Sal whirled toward Jess.

  Gunshots cracked.

  Vince leaped to tackle Sal.

  Sal went down. His rifle fell to the ground.

  Vince landed on Sal and rolled away from him.

  Jess lunged for the gun.

  “Stop! Now!”

  Everyone in the back yard of the cabin froze.

  “Listen closely. All weapons down and put your hands on your heads. Do it now!”