by Wendy Devore
“Lily?” he asked, tapping her on the shoulder. She swung around to face him, and her red-rimmed eyes screamed that something was very, very wrong.
She slowly rotated the titanium band on the ring finger of her left hand. “It’s Maddie,” she stammered. “There was a roadside IED and her convoy caught it and now she’s gone.” She stared at him with forlorn eyes, brimming with tears.
He immediately folded her into his arms. Her mascara left a dark smudge on the lapel of his white coat. After a long moment, he guided her to the patient lounge flanking the admitting desk.
She dug a tissue from her black leather handbag and wiped her eyes with efficiency.
“Sorry,” she sniffed. “All this emotional crap; this isn’t me. Right now I need…I need to decide if I’m going to stay in the corps, and I really need someone to talk to. Now that she’s gone, everything feels…wrong.”
“Listen, I’m off in about an hour. Can you meet me across the street for coffee?”
She nodded, composing herself and squaring her shoulders.
“My residency ends in a couple of weeks, and I’m not planning to stay in neurology practice. I’m going to work at Albaion, and I think you should come with me.”
She eyed him quizzically. “You and your dad are like oil and water. Why on earth would you agree to work for him?”
He leaned in toward Lily so that he wouldn’t be overheard.
“I’m building a prototype for a medical device. Right now it’s just me and this hotshot programmer I rescued from the math department at Berkeley. Amir and I have been meeting with venture capitalists for over a year, but no one will bite. I’ve got something—something big. But no one wants to take on the risk. The irony is not lost on me, but he’s the only person who will give me a chance—and the seed money.”
“But I don’t have any skills that would make me useful at a biotechnology company,” she protested.
Andrew smiled. “Oh, I think you’d be surprised.”
September 26, Present
Andrew drew the sharp blade of the razor along his neck and winced as he nicked the edge of a barely discernible scar just below his jawline. He touched his finger to the cut and pulled it away, gazing absentmindedly at the single scarlet droplet.
He lifted the collar of his starched and crisply pressed white Armani dress shirt and draped an Italian silk tie over his neck. He crossed the ends of the smooth, dark fabric and drew the end through the knot, which he cinched into a perfect half-Windsor.
He pulled on his black Brioni suit jacket and was halfway out the door when he grasped his left wrist and realized he’d forgotten his watch. He dug through the rumpled pile of workout clothes, random computer hardware peripherals, and scraps of paper uncharacteristically strewn atop the sleek maple bureau. With a sigh of relief, he extracted the platinum Patek Philippe timepiece. He cradled it gently in his hands, running his finger over the words engraved on the back: “Reality is merely an illusion.” A quote from Einstein.
Andrew opened the passenger door of the dusty white pickup and offered his hand to Janine Mori, who slithered from the seat in a practiced way, despite her black skirt and heels. A layer of fog had pushed in overnight, painting the sky gray and turning the fall morning moist and chilly. The marine layer had pushed the smog inland, and the salt-tinged air was a welcome respite from the pollution—at least until the fog burned off. Janine pulled her black sweater tighter as they walked the three blocks from their parking spot to the gothic Victorian facade of St. Thomas Church. Andrew held the heavy wooden door open for Janine as she stepped inside. The interior of the church was white, bright, and airy—a stark contrast to the black-clad mourners who filed quietly inside and filled the pews.
Andrew unbuttoned his suit jacket as he and Janine found seats near the rear of the church. The priest recited the funeral mass; prayers and hymns were followed by a solemn reading from the Old Testament. Then a distinguished soldier in a marine corps uniform strode forward to deliver the reading:
“So let our sister receive the abundant grace of Jesus Christ,
Yet through one transgression
Condemnation came upon all,
So too, through one virtuous act,
Absolution and life came to all.”
As the organist began another hymn, Janine glanced to her left. Andrew was rhythmically clenching his jaw. She reached over and placed her hand gently on his arm.
“Her one transgression was her faithfulness to the cause. Our cause,” he murmured.
Janine shook her head and squeezed his arm. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“I can’t believe she’s gone. And that transgression did cause a condemnation—it’s a curse on this reality.”
“We’ll correct it,” Janine assured him. “We’ll get this right.”
Following the service, the congregation filed from the church and walked quietly to their vehicles. Half an hour later, in the lingering mist, Andrew and Janine stood among the mourners at Queen of Angles Cemetery as the hearse rolled to a stop. Six somber young Filipino-American men guided the white casket draped in the American flag from the back of the vehicle and carried it solemnly to the gravesite. The bereaved marched somberly behind.
The priest stood silently as the mourners assembled. “We gather here to commend our sister Lily Salonga to God our Father and to commit her body to the earth. In the spirit of faith in the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, let us offer our prayers.”
As the congregation silently prayed, the low clouds began to part and a ray of sunlight fell upon the assembly. The marine came forward to read a eulogy.
“Major Lily Salonga,” he began, “served with distinction with the US Marine Female Engagement Team in Afghanistan. During her tours of duty she received a Navy and Marine Corps Commendation Medal for sustained acts of heroism. I was proud to know her and proud to serve with her.
“Those of us who have had the privilege of serving in the marine corps value our experience as among the most precious of our lives. Major Salonga was proud of her corps and believed it to be second to none. She was loyal to her friends and to the marine corps, adhering always to the motto semper fidelis—always faithful.”
Janine reached for Andrew’s hand and clasped it firmly while the bugler played “Taps.” The honor guard folded the flag draping the coffin into a precise and tidy triangle and handed it to Lily’s weeping mother.
As the service ended, Andrew and Janine slipped away.
“He didn’t even bother to pay his respects,” Andrew lamented bitterly as he helped Janine into the dusty white pickup.
“You didn’t really expect the illustrious Dr. Breckinridge to attend, did you?” Janine admonished as he drove listlessly toward the facility in the hills.
“She had faith in me, and I failed her. She gave her life because of his unreasonable demands. For his avarice!’’ Andrew shouted, pounding the dashboard with his fist. “And he didn’t even have the decency to come to her funeral.”
“Well, if I had to admit one thing,” Janine remarked wryly, “it’s that your father never was one for decency.”
Chapter 15
Kate
September 26
At three, I stepped into the Stanford Sleep Research Clinic. The homey front office with its cozy, warm lighting was a stark contrast to the hazy afternoon that was rapidly becoming another unseasonably hot day. The receptionist’s smile was unusually strained. Without any hesitation, I was ushered into an exam room, and an unfamiliar nurse recorded my vitals. The swollen red welt on the back of my left hand caused a raised eyebrow, but she didn’t ask, and I didn’t volunteer an explanation. The nurse made some notes in my chart and simply instructed me to follow.
She deposited me in the hallway at the rear of the clinic. The door to Dr. Daniels’s clinic office was closed, so I knocked and let myself in. Dr. Daniels sat pensively behind his desk, fingers pressed together, eyes closed, slowly rocking in his office chair.
The office was small and cramped, so it wasn’t until I closed the door that I noticed Janine perched in one of the guest chairs.
Her fatigue was unmistakable. Her face, drawn and pale, offset the dark circles under her eyes. She was wearing dark, uncharacteristically dressy clothes and heels. I realized she must have come directly from Lily’s funeral.
I lowered myself into the only other available seat. The slicing, the migraines, the hangover, and the apprehension I felt every time I relived the incident with Andrew and those scissors were definitely taking their toll. My brain was twisted with deep fatigue of my own. I took a few deep breaths and tried to temper the mental exhaustion. Uncomfortable minutes passed before Dr. Daniels finally opened his eyes and leaned forward. He heaved a heavy sigh as he finally spoke, his voice unbelievably sad.
“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you hadn’t come here today. I take full responsibility for getting you into this mess. If I had never mentioned that fellowship…”
“It really isn’t your fault, Dr. Daniels.” My eyes flashed at Janine. “It’s hers.”
She refused to meet my stare.
Janine sighed, “You may not believe me when I say I’m truly sorry for betraying your trust, for letting you fall into harm’s way…”
Her tone made it obvious that she really was feeling tortured. My anger faded to a lighter shade of indignation.
Janine continued. “I never thought this would be the outcome of our research. But I’m afraid the parties involved are too influential, too powerful…”
“I know about Andric Breckinridge,” I interrupted, unable to conceal the defiance.
“You know the public Andric Breckinridge,” Janine corrected. “What you don’t know is the depths to which he’ll go to get what he wants.” She clutched her hands together in her lap.
Daniels shook his head. “It’s a mess. It’s a tangled web, and I’m caught in it, and Dr. Mori’s caught in it, and now you’re caught in it, too.”
“Well, I’m getting out.”
“I’m afraid it’s not as easy as walking away.” Janine’s words were sharp, but her eyes reflected sorrow.
“I know I signed a nondisclosure agreement, but what can he do to me if I walk? As long as I don’t talk about his little laboratory of horrors, there’s nothing he can legally do.”
“It’s not the legal recrimination you need to worry about,” Janine replied ominously.
Dr. Daniels reached across his desk and grasped my arm. “Kate, you have to go back to the compound.”
“No!” I shouted, pulling away. Dread burgeoned in my gut. “I do not have to go back!”
“If you don’t go back, Breckinridge will take action,” Janine pleaded. “He will have you ejected from your graduate program. You will find yourself the object of some very public, very plausible rumors that will make it difficult, if not impossible, for you to find another professor who will be willing to take you on. Your career will be finished.”
Bile rose in my throat and I swallowed hard to contain it. “I’m not a one-trick pony. Dr. Daniels can vouch for me. And Jeff! We’ve been teaching classes together for a year and a half. They’ll back me up.”
Janine shook her head. Her eyes never left mine as she asked, “Have you heard from Jeff? Any of your students?”
“No,” I admitted, shriveling under her steely gaze. “But I can do something else. I’ll find another field.” My chin jutted out defiantly.
“You don’t comprehend the enormity of his reach!” Janine insisted, eyes pleading. “He’s a multi-billionaire; his resources are vast and so is his fury. He will completely and fully discredit you—almost certainly by engineering a smear campaign that will be far-reaching, public, and will follow you for the rest of your life. He’ll start obscene rumors about your father’s inappropriate involvement with preteen boys. Your mother will be accused of embezzling funds. Your parents will lose their farm, and your sister will lose her job, too. And he will go after anyone you’ve ever cared about, personally and professionally. Starting with Christopher Daniels.”
Despite my best efforts, my righteous indignation dissolved into pure, white-hot frustration. I stared at Dr. Daniels, in hopes that he would refute what she said, but his lined, tired eyes were downcast.
“No,” I said, turning to Janine. “I don’t believe you. You work for him. You have every reason to lie to me, to twist my emotions and my loyalty to get me to go back and work with that whack job Andrew.”
Janine heaved another long sigh. She motioned to the laptop sitting on Dr. Daniels’s desk.
“Can I borrow that?”
He nodded, disconnected it from its power supply, and handed it to her. Janine opened a terminal and began typing, tapping the keys with determination, her lips squeezed into a grim line. When she finished, she pivoted the computer on her lap, and I was able to see clear, sharp color security footage, with a time stamp burned on the upper right corner indicating that the footage was taken last month.
Six men and a woman sat uncomfortably around a conference table. Each one noticeably stiffened when Andric Breckinridge stormed into the room. Although there was no audio to accompany the video, the man’s rage was evident. He seemed to focus all his ire on the woman, who seemed to collapse inward on herself as he continued to fume. The rant went on for five minutes before the woman collapsed in tears and darted from the room.
“Who is she?” I asked, unable to tear my eyes from the video.
“She was a Rhodes scholar. Top in her class at Harvard. She’d been working for Albaion for five years. Now she’s unemployable.”
My throat tightened until I couldn’t breathe, and Janine snapped the laptop shut.
“Why?” I croaked, my throat tightening.
“The outcome of the research wasn’t what he expected,” Janine replied curtly.
I stared at her dumbly. The outcome wasn’t what he expected?
“Why do you stay?” I whispered, turning to the exhausted woman. My mind reeled. All the secrecy, all the lies, made me question every word of her story, but my heart believed her.
“I made a promise to Andrew’s mother.”
“But I’m afraid of Andrew,” I whispered, my rage now completely replaced by cold dread.
“I’m not excusing his actions,” Janine replied. “Despite his behavior, I can assure you that he is not, in fact, psychopathic, nor is he prone to unnecessary violence. He is, however, under extraordinary pressure. And he’s grieving.”
“You’ve done a psych evaluation on him too?” I retorted.
“We’ve all been evaluated,” Janine murmured. “For suitability. For stamina. For the likelihood that under incredible strain, we won’t crack. It’s like joining the armed forces—except your tour of duty only ends when Breckinridge is finished with you.”
“But why? Why me? I mean, I get that not everyone can shift out of a slice, but surely there are other people who could learn? You know, Buddhist monks or something. I mean, I’m into mindfulness and I’m a good student, and I know my way around a compiler, but I’m hardly genius material. Why does he want me so badly?”
“Kate, don’t you know?” Janine spoke with surprise. “Not everyone can slice shift. In fact, almost no one can. In our whole facility, it’s just you and Andrew. You should have seen how ecstatic Andrew and Amir were when they determined that Lily could slice. He’d never admit it, but having a partner along for the ride turned every investigation into an adventure.” Her dark eyes saddened. “And now Lily is gone.”
“What makes me so unique?” I replied, confused.
“We don’t know,” Janine replied. “You can bet Breckinridge wants more than anything to determine how to find more like you. But without criteria to guess who might be a candidate, there’s no way to tell except to expose them to the Bug and let the chips fall as they may.”
Janine stared at me hard. “And if you try to slice but can’t there are side effects. Some of us suffered from uncontrollable eye tics
and erratic large-muscle spasms for a few weeks after the test. We were the lucky ones. A few went temporarily blind; several now have an ongoing seizure disorder similar to epilepsy. One person lost the use of his legs for four months. The unluckiest of us experienced cerebral hemorrhage serious enough to require emergency surgery. Three researchers who tried have never recovered.” Janine stared at me hard. “So you can see why, having found you, Breckinridge is extremely loathe to let you slip through his grasp.”
“So I was in danger right from the start,” I shuddered, thankful that my first rendezvous with Andrew’s sinister creation had not turned my brain into gray-matter soup. I couldn’t know for sure whether what they said was true. Maybe Breckinridge was just your garden variety power-hungry megalomaniac CEO. Then I remembered the feeling of complete and utter inferiority I felt the moment he entered the room, and I believed them. I believed that Andric Breckinridge would destroy me, my family, and anyone I had ever counted on.
I bit my trembling lower lip as I stared first at Dr. Daniels, then at Janine. I drew the only conclusion that was possible.
“I’ll go,” I said with much more conviction than I felt. “I’ll go back to Albaion.”
Janine nodded gravely, sinking back in her chair with relief. “Go home. It’s not much, but take the evening to recover. We’ll pick you up first thing tomorrow morning.”
Chapter 16
Andrew
September 26
Exhausted, Andrew retreated to his office. The windowless room was sparse, with soothing gray walls and a Scandinavian desk of maple in a simple natural finish—all hard lines and angles. It was free from clutter and distraction, and nearly silent except for the faint hiss of the ventilation.
No diplomas or photographs or awards were displayed. Not even a whiteboard marred the unbroken uniformity of the walls, which were bare except for a scale reproduction of a triptych of paintings by the Spanish modernist Joan Miró fittingly entitled Blue I, Blue II, and Blue III. Invariably when Andrew’s mind ran unchecked, he would pace in his office and gaze at the large canvases’ azure fields punctuated by a few simple black dots or an effortless slash of red paint. The paintings usually calmed him; the work of Miró was said to convey the artist’s dreams and subconscious. But the symbolism of the artwork now struck too close to home—Kate’s dreams, her subconscious—these were the key to the puzzle. And he had thrown out the key in a burst of anger.
