by Wendy Devore
Finally, the door opened just wide enough for Janine to slip through. She was also wearing a white lab coat, over rumpled khakis and a black knit shirt. Her eyes were glazed and weary. When she saw me, her exhaustion quickly turned to concern.
She nodded to the lab coat at my elbow. “Thanks, Ken. I’ll take it from here.”
My hostage nodded and departed without hesitation.
Janine sighed, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips. “Kate…what is it? What’s wrong?”
“Andrew,” I said through clenched teeth. “He is a complete psychopath! He assaulted me; I can’t go back in there. There’s no one I can trust. You’ve got to get me out of this place.”
With a sidelong glance back at her lab, Janine put her arm protectively around my shoulders. Despite my resolve to remain as intimidating as I possibly could, this motherly gesture caught me off guard.
“Okay, let’s swing by my office. I’m going to grab a couple of things and we’ll check out a car.”
We walked deeper into the basement hallway maze, until we stood before another unmarked, windowless door.
“I’m sorry about this, but I can’t allow you in this room, either. Just stay here. I won’t be a minute.”
Janine pressed her keycard to a reader, and the door clicked open. She slipped through and was gone, leaving me alone in the hall. I nervously swept my eyes across the length of the corridor, waiting for some burly men to drag me back to my room, but none materialized. After what seemed like an eternity, Janine emerged, sans lab coat.
We followed the hallway until we reached a bulky service elevator. We took it up to the first floor, where it opened directly into the large garage bay. Two of the facility’s light-duty pickups were waiting. Janine used her keycard to unlock a panel on the wall, and she grabbed a set of keys.
As Janine carefully navigated the pickup through a large roll-up door, I caught a lungful of foul smog. I felt my throat constrict as I struggled to raise the open window.
Janine kept her eyes glued to the dirt track she was navigating more rapidly than was prudent. The headlights cast eerie shadows through the oaks as we bounced past.
“I’m sorry, Kate, but you should know—everyone is aware that I’m taking you out.”
I felt a tiny stab of betrayal, which was alleviated by the fact that I was, at least, fleeing the facility. I was out—I was free. I pushed my distrust of Janine down deep and stared out the window.
When we reached the pavement, Janine relaxed her death grip on the wheel and glanced in my direction. “What did Andrew do?”
“He stabbed me. With a pair of scissors.”
Janine breathed an exasperated snort. She sounded beyond tired, like she needed to sleep for a month.
“This is no excuse, but we’re under enormous pressure. It’s not easy to work for…our boss.”
“Breckinridge, I know,” I said flatly. “I met him.”
“Well, then, you have some idea of the working conditions. He’s incredibly illustrious. He’s been named Entrepreneur of the Year, Innovator of the Year, and has been one of Time Magazine’s Top 100 Influential People. He’s ranked seventh on the Forbes list of the World’s Most Powerful People. He’s wealthy, influential, brilliant, and driven. But the expectations on his staff are severe,” she explained. “For many of us, the cost is extremely high.”
She expertly navigated the traffic on the crowded residential streets. “You’ll be home soon, but don’t think that there aren’t consequences. Whether you return is your choice. I want you to meet me in Dr. Daniels’s office tomorrow afternoon. It’s important you understand the gravity of this situation.”
She offered nothing more, so I rode silently until we arrived at my apartment.
“Thanks,” I muttered as I scurried out of the truck. She nodded once as I closed the door, and then she was gone.
I didn’t have my house keys with me, so I pounded on the door, hoping Michelle was home.
The door flung open, and my sister enfolded me in a fierce hug. “Amir texted. He said you were on your way.” She ushered me into the apartment and closed the door. “Are you hungry? I made spaghetti.”
I realized I hadn’t eaten since breakfast and stuffed down two big bowls full of warm carbs with Michelle’s zesty homemade sauce before I even offered a word of explanation. Michelle shifted uneasily from the kitchen to the counter to our thrift-store dining table, barely containing her curiosity.
As we deposited our bowls in the kitchen sink, I leaned in close to my sister. “I think this place might be bugged,” I whispered in her ear. “We have to get out of here.”
“I’m so glad to see you!” Michelle countered loudly, nodding as she met my eyes. “Why don’t you come out with me? You look like you’ve been cooped up far too long.”
I was mentally and physically exhausted, but there was no time to rest. “Sure,” I agreed, grabbing a sweater on my way to the door. “Let’s go!”
We headed for Stanford’s Green Library. Michelle had to use her inhaler twice during the few blocks we walked to reach the bus stop.
We arrived at the Green Library with only thirty minutes to spare. We’d have to work quickly.
“What’s the plan?” Michelle asked as we made our way through the doors.
“The CEO of the Albaion Corporation is Andric Breckinridge. Everyone treats him like he’s some sort of brainiac god, but I don’t know anything about him or his company. I need to know what’s really going on there.” I made a beeline straight for the computer stations.
“Why are doing this at the library, instead of at home? You know we could have done this search on your phone, or your laptop,” Michelle asked.
“I’m certain I’m being monitored, and I’ll bet you are, too. I don’t think I can securely use the computer from home, and I don’t even think it’s safe to search from any machine that that has any of my account information. Or my IP address. And just to be sure, power down your phone.” I turned mine off and sat on it for good measure. At the public computer station, I typed in “Andric Breckinridge.” Michelle sat at the machine next to me and did the same. I clicked rapidly through the links and skimmed each article.
“Oh, man… Janine was right; the man is dripping in awards and honors. He’s got this incredibly long CV. Look at this… he won the genius grant in 1981 for a paper he published that changed the way people think about stock prices and economic growth. He has… wait, he has a hundred and seventy-two patents. He has founded eleven successful companies, seven of them within the last five years, in industries ranging from energy to biomedical to genetics to privately funded space travel. Albaion flies under the radar, but the subsidiaries… he owns a successful company in every hot market segment out there.”
“Oh, Kate, this is weird,” Michelle interjected. “Breckinridge is a big-time donor to several prominent universities, and one of his biggest pet projects is sleep research.”
I frowned. “Well, that explains the Breckinridge Fellowship and his interest in my condition.”
“Your Dr. Breckinridge comes from money, too. His grandfather was a big shot in the timber industry at the turn of the century, and his father was a financier. Did a lot of speculating in oil and gas. His current personal net worth is estimated at seventeen-point-one billion.”
There was too much to read, and we needed more time, but the lights dimmed and the impatient frowns from the librarian finally forced us out. What was glaringly obvious was that Breckinridge was a bona fide genius. His work was multidisciplinary, his success rate was extraordinary, and his ventures were incredibly lucrative.
As we left the library, I caught Michelle’s elbow and steered her toward the oversize sculptural fountain just outside the east entrance. We sat down on the big concrete step beside it. I hoped I was just paranoid, but trusted the roaring of the fountain would drown out any sort of listening device.
“Shell, I’m in trouble. It’s clear that Breckinridge is not only obscenely wea
lthy but also incredibly powerful. I’m still not entirely sure why his organization needs me, specifically…or why they let me go.”
“Why did you leave?” Michelle wheezed, pulling out her inhaler.
I scowled and held up my hand.
“That ass Andrew stabbed me.”
Michelle eyed me quizzically. “Your boss stabbed you? Where? Are you injured? Do we need to go to the ER?”
I threw my hands up in exasperation. “Ugh…too complicated to explain. I’m fine. No lasting injury. But he’s proven he’s dangerous, and probably mentally unstable, and definitely untrustworthy. But it gets worse.”
“What could be worse than being stabbed?”
“I’m dreaming about him.”
“Dreaming? Or dreaming?” she asked.
“Dreaming. More than once. Sometimes…uh, well…erotically. In one of them, I was his wife. Though I was dead in that one…”
She looked concerned. “Do you have feelings for him or something?”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to logically inventory my emotions. I felt disgust, then fear, then something else. I never wanted to see Andrew again, yet I couldn’t get his damn face out of my mind.
“Yeah, I have a feeling—that he’s an arrogant ass!” I grunted. “But make no mistake—someone as powerful and driven as Breckinridge doesn’t just give up, take his toys, and go home. Apparently he needs me, and I doubt he will simply let me out. Not knowing what I know.”
“So, now what? What will you do?” Michelle insisted as we headed to the bus stop.
I cleared my throat and coughed, feeling an acrid burn in the back of my sinuses. I hoped the bus would arrive quickly. “Today was pure hell. Right now, more than anything I need to sleep. Tomorrow, I’ll go see Dr. Daniels.”
Chapter 14
Andrew
September 28, 2002
Andrew had taken a wrong turn on his way to the rec sports facility and now he was late for his first tae kwon do sparring practice. The relief that he’d finally found the assigned room was quickly extinguished when he realized that the only other student without a partner was a slight Asian woman wearing a worn Cal Bears T-shirt and sweats. Her long, black hair was pulled neatly into a braid and it hung to the side as she stretched. He sized her up instantly; she was easily forty pounds lighter than he was and a full head shorter.
She greeted him with a confident smile. “Hi, I’m Lily.” She extended her hand, and he noted that she had a startlingly firm handshake—for a girl.
Within the first three minutes, she’d knocked him to the floor twice.
“You must be new at this. You’re a freshman, right?” she taunted. She bounded around him on the pads of her feet as she waited for him to peel himself off the mat.
“I’ve studied tae kwon do for years!”
Lily took him down again.
“Need a break?” As she bounced foot to foot, her long braid swung rhythmically. She wasn’t even winded.
“No way!” he panted. “I want you to know, I’m not going to take it easy on you just because you’re a girl.”
“I’m a woman,” she countered, dancing about the mat. “And you know I’m a black belt, right?”
By way of answer, he threw another punch and followed with a kick, which she easily avoided.
“You’re telegraphing,” she goaded him as she dodged. “I can see you coming a mile away!”
He gritted his teeth and launched a new assault.
She spun around and threw all her weight behind a well-paced kick high above her head. The strike caught him under the chin and knocked him flat on his ass. Blood began to stream down his neck.
“What the hell?” he yelped, clutching his chin.
“Don’t freak out, but I think my toenail caught you on the way down. Stay still!” she commanded. Without a hint of hesitation, she pulled off her shirt and pressed it firmly to the wound to staunch the bleeding, revealing a camo-patterned sports bra and dog tags.
“Get that sweaty piece of crap off me!” he shouted angrily, attempting unsuccessfully to swat her away. “You’re going to give me gangrene!”
Lily literally slapped him upside the head. “Stop being such a baby, frosh. I’m taking you to the Tang Center. You probably need stitches.”
December 4, 2004
A typical Northern California winter storm had turned the night cold and rainy. Lily spent more time than usual stuffing her workout clothes into her gym bag, and he noticed that she repeatedly cast sidelong glances his way. He was surprised. Sometimes she was brash, bold, and forceful; sometimes she was calm, cool, and collected. The uncertainty was new.
She intently examined the end of her long braid as she spoke. “So…I know this is last minute and all, but the battalion does this formal every year, the Tri-Service Ball. Who knows how long this military action in Afghanistan is going to drag on? There’s no doubt I’ll be deployed there as soon as I graduate.” Lily tried to sound flippant, but he could read between the lines. “It may be the last real party I see for a while. And I don’t want to go alone.”
“Are you asking me…on a date?” he replied incredulously.
“Don’t be such an enormous dorkwad!” she insisted, punching him in the arm—hard. “There is no way I’d ever date you! For one thing, you don’t have tits…”
“Ouch!” he protested, rubbing his arm. “That’s yet another bruise I’ll be sporting for the next week, thanks to you. You’re a psych major. Can’t you use your words rather than resorting to violence?”
She grinned. “Forcefulness is my strong suit.”
“There ought to be some rule about seniors beating up underclassmen,” he grumbled.
“So are you going to help out a friend here, or not?”
“For my most endearing—and brutal—martial arts foe? Yes, of course I’ll go.”
Lily nodded, zipping up her duffel. “I sure hope you can dance better than you fight.”
“Yes, ma’am, I can dance,” Andrew smirked. “And I clean up real nice, too.”
“Good. And no wacky-ass ties printed with secret messages in binary. I know how you code monkeys are with your nerd humor.”
Andrew pretended to be insulted.
That evening he took the BART train to San Francisco to visit the Nordstrom men’s department. He left with an overpriced black tie made of Italian silk and the attractive, petite, blonde, and somewhat vacuous young saleswomen who spent the evening persuading him to purchase it.
May 8, 2006
He had been holed up in his apartment for the past forty hours, working feverishly to perfect the speech he would present at commencement. A loud knock interrupted his progress.
“Hey, Mr. University Medal! Just two days until the biggest smarty-pants I know addresses the graduating class of 2006!” Lily grinned as she burst through the door.
Andrew immediately wrapped her in a warm embrace. “I can’t believe you’re here!” His smile was broad and genuine. “When did you get back?”
“Yesterday,” she replied. He ushered her into the apartment. “I’ll spend a couple of weeks leave with my family, then it’s back to the base for a round of gear repair and mission training.”
He reached into the fridge for a pair of cold IPAs, twisted the cap from the first, and handed it to her. She took a long drag of beer, crossed the open layout of the spacious and well-appointed apartment, and dropped down on the tawny leather sofa.
“Oh God, I love this sofa!” Lily moaned, caressing its soft, supple surface. “How I have missed this sofa. I have dreams about this sofa!” She leaned forward and ran a finger along the top of the sculptural glass-topped coffee table. “There isn’t a speck of dust in this place. Didn’t you just finish finals? How do you have time to keep this place spotless? Is your mother still sending her cleaning lady?”
His expression ricocheted from elation to despondence. He sat down carefully on the matching leather armchair, but his normally inscrutable face sho
wed the strain of exhaustion.
Lily’s demeanor suddenly became serious. “What happened? Is it your mom? I thought she was in remission.”
“Yeah, so did I.” Andrew sighed, downing more beer but staring into space.
“Hey, man, I’m sorry. I was out of line.” She stared down at her hands, picking at a nail. “What’s the prognosis?”
“It’s not good. She’s back in the hospital. They wanted to do another round of chemo but her kidneys are failing. She won’t be out in time for graduation.”
Lily winced, grasping the implication. She took a pull from the longneck bottle in her hand. “But your dad’s coming, right? You are literally the most distinguished scholar on campus right now.”
A dark look crossed his eyes, but his gaze was still far away. “He’s in Luxembourg, setting up some new subsidiary. He won’t be back anytime soon. In fact, ever since she’s been sick, he’s gone more than ever.”
“But he must be proud…”
Andrew scowled. “He’s never forgiven me for turning down Princeton.”
The light glinting on the chronometer on his left wrist caught her eye. She nodded toward it. “You started wearing a watch.”
“Mom had it couriered over last night.” He gently ran a finger across the smooth sapphire crystal of the timepiece. “She’s dying, yet she still somehow managed to make sure I received my graduation gift.”
Lily reached across the sofa and grasped his arm. “I’m so sorry.”
Andrew’s eyes regained focus and settled on his friend. “You always did have a ridiculously firm grip—for a girl.”
Lily’s eyes were sad, and tender. “For a woman,” she corrected, but gently and with genuine affection. She gave his arm an extra squeeze. “Forcefulness was always my forte.”
June 30, 2015
He was working another marathon shift at the neurology clinic when he saw her at the admitting desk.
“I’m looking for Andrew. He’s a resident,” she asked politely.
He frowned at the uncharacteristic tremor in her voice.
