by MJ Rodgers
“And that would explain why Linbow can’t reuse the disks. The images and emotions created by the last user are still on them. What I saw, heard and felt was everything that Patsy Harper must have seen, heard and felt.”
“Incredible to imagine.”
“More than incredible. Do you realize what this means? Linbow told Elling the disks were reused. He no doubt planned to repeat that assertion in court. We have the proof that Linbow was planning to lie on the stand! These disks will free Adam!”
“A.J., hold it. Your desire to free your brother is not letting you explore the other possible explanations here.”
“What other possible explanations? If Linbow hasn’t somehow found a way to record his patrons’ reactions to his programs, then how do you explain what we just experienced? And why is he storing their programs in that out-of-the-way room? Why isn’t he reusing them as he told Elling he was?”
“He may be reusing them, A.J. We don’t know for certain that he isn’t. We don’t even know for certain that these are Patsy Harper’s disks.”
“How could they not be Patsy’s? We saw her on the disks, and her ex-husband, Bruce. If these disks aren’t Patsy’s, how did their images get on them? How did I feel what she felt?”
“There is another explanation. Remember Clarise’s description of how VR works? These could be universal program disks. Your imagination could have manipulated them into being Patsy’s.”
“My imagination?”
“Unconsciously directing the action. You knew if these turned out to be Patsy’s disks, they would be the proof you needed to free your brother.”
“But even if I wanted these disks to be Patsy’s, how could I imagine that scene between her and her husband? How could I imagine the things he would say to her and how she would feel?”
“Because you were in court the day Harper testified. He spoke about the accusations Patsy had made about his flirting and being unfaithful and how he had been emotionally cruel. Is the scene you just experienced in this fantasy so far removed from those accusations?”
“But you were in the fantasy, too. You saw—”
“What you orchestrated. Remember what Ken said about coupling. If the woman has selected the program, she’s the one who calls the shots. The man is in an observer role.”
“But I felt surprised when I looked in the mirror and saw it was Patsy. Why would I have felt surprised if I was subconsciously orchestrating the fantasy to be hers?”
“Because if you weren’t surprised, if you had anticipated it would be Patsy, then it would have been obvious to you that it was an orchestration.”
“Zane, why this elaborate theory? Why is it so hard for you to just accept that these are Patsy’s disks?”
“Because everything about VR fantasies is supposed to be positive. Why would Patsy have had a negative experience unless you expected her to after hearing her reasons for divorcing her husband?”
A.J. sunk back into her pillow. “Damn, you could be right. This is just great. If I’m orchestrating my own reality in these fantasies because of my desires and expectations, how am I ever going to know what’s really on them?”
She felt the light touch of his finger against her cheek. “By having your shadow along.”
She looked at his face and the wonderful glint in his eyes and tried to be strong. “You’re just an observer.”
He withdrew his hand. “Which should help me to remain objective. Tomorrow we’ll ask around and see if anyone else has been confronted with something unpleasant while experiencing VR.”
“Deann Wells and Ken Beyette didn’t sound like they had any complaints.”
“True, but by tomorrow there will be forty-six other users we can ask. And Bix and Babs Nelson are repeat customers, so I’ll certainly make it a point to touch base with them. Maybe we’ll find someone who’s had a negative fantasy such as you experienced tonight.”
“And if we do, will you take it as proof that these are Patsy’s?”
“I’ll take it as proof that negative VR experiences can happen. The only way we can hope to find the truth these disks contain is by approaching them with as much information and as few expectations as possible.”
“Collecting facts while at the same time whitewashing our expectations and our imaginations,” A.J. said with a sigh. “I’m not sure that’s possible.”
An odor reached her nose. She sat up. “My sinuses are unclogging. I can smell my bath soap.”
He sniffed. “It smells like spicy rum.”
“Yep, that’s my bath soap.”
Zane got up, disappeared into the bathroom and appeared with a bar of soap in his hand. He passed it beneath his nose. “Nice, but it smells even better on you.”
He smiled at her, and she could feel the heat of his eyes all up and down her skin.
“I can smell other things in the room now, too,” she said quickly, eager to refocus the conversation. “I believe that blocking those vents with the towels and turning on the fan has helped to dry out the air.”
“Air-conditioning is supposed to dry out indoor air. Drying air out by blocking the air-conditioning vents flies in the face of all logic.”
“Only if the intent of the air-conditioning in this building is to condition the air and not to clog the sinuses.”
“Meaning?”
“Think about it, Zane. The sense of smell is the only sense that can’t be reached by these computer fantasies.”
“You’re suggesting that Linbow and company are deliberately debilitating our sense of smell in order to make these fantasies seem more real?”
“Yes. If I had been in that boutique just now and had caught a whiff of my rum-scented soap, I might have wondered where it was coming from and have been reminded that I brought it with me to a VR theme park. Who knows? That smell alone could have created enough cognitive dissonance to cause me to reject what I was seeing and hearing as real.”
“You make an excellent point, A.J. Perhaps that’s why the only thing I could taste at dinner tonight was salty and bitter and sour and sweet—the four parts of taste that are not related to the sense of smell.”
“This deliberate blocking of our sense of smell goes to prove how unprincipled Linbow is.”
“But it could be argued that it was only done to enhance the pleasure of the VR experience and make it even more real. If patrons were made aware of the fact that their sense of smell was being blocked, then that could put an artificial pallor on their experiences and distract from their enjoyment of them.”
“Still, it’s underhanded and diabolical, a true testament to the man’s character.”
The lamp on the nightstand flickered. A.J. put a hand to her forehead. “Tell me the lights really blinked just now.”
“They did.”
“Good. For a moment there I thought this disoriented feeling was getting worse.”
“I’d better stay with you tonight to make sure you’re okay.”
A.J.’s eyes went to his face. “I’m not that disoriented.”
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it lightly.
“Next time I’ll make my move while you’re still vulnerable,” he said as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and slipped on his shoes.
“Next time?”
He grabbed his pillow and mask and headed for the door. He opened it and looked at her.
“You didn’t think I was giving up on you?” he asked, a deep taunting glow in his dark eyes.
A.J. grabbed the pillow off the bed, not knowing whether to throw it at him or invite him to share it.
He smiled and blew her a kiss before stepping into the hallway and closing the door softly behind him.
She hugged the pillow to her, knowing she was in trouble. Very serious trouble.
She no longer could trust her perceptions. Or control her feelings. And nothing, but nothing could be worse for a private investigator looking for the truth. Or for a woman trying to hold on to her heart.
&n
bsp; “SO, YOU’RE UP and at it before breakfast, too, I see,” Zane said as he swung onto the weight bench next to Bix Nelson. Zane checked the weights. The man had been bench pressing two hundred and fifty pounds. Not bad.
Bix grabbed a towel and wiped off his perspiring brow and bald spot as he took a few deep breaths. He flashed Zane a good-natured grin.
“Yeah. Nothing like a morning workout to get all those muscles awake and raring to go. You look like you’re a man who knows what I’m talking about.”
Zane nodded, lifting the weight bar of the Nautilus machine, keeping his tone casual.
“Have you always been conscious of keeping fit?”
“Naw, I used to be one of them couch potatoes on my way to a coronary. Only saw the light about a year ago.” He slapped his flat belly. “Still, better late than never, right?”
“Right. So what does a man like yourself, who obviously prefers physical action, pick for his fantasy on a weekend here?”
“Well, last time I picked a historical program. It was interesting, but more intellectually engaging than physically challenging.”
“So you’ve been here before?” Zane asked, trying to sound uninformed.
“Once before. During my couch potato days. Right at the end of them, matter of fact. Which is why I picked that historical program. But this time, whoa! The missus and I are tackling physical challenges from all over the world, climbing mountains and canoeing through rapids. Ah, hell, we’re having a great time.”
“So you’ve enjoyed your fantasies both times?”
“Well, yeah. What’s wrong? You not enjoying your fantasies?” Bix asked, clearly picking up the questioning hesitation Zane deliberately put in his tone.
“Yeah. I have to admit that I’ve had my reservations about this virtual reality thing all along,” Zane said. “Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I went in with the wrong attitude.”
Bix shook his head as he swung the middle of the towel around the back of his neck and latched onto the ends. “When my wife dragged me here a year ago, I was convinced it was going to be a waste of time, but I had great fantasies on that weekend.”
“So your negative expectations didn’t affect your fantasy at all?”
“Nope. Maybe you got a bad disk or something. I’d report it if I were you. I’m sure whatever went wrong can be fixed. I know Ken got fixed up right away.”
“Ken?” Zane repeated, keeping his surprise at the comment in check while raising his tone to invite elaboration.
“Yeah, Ken Beyette. He’s another repeat attendee. I remember last time when he came to breakfast Saturday morning he was grumbling about his fantasy not being nearly as good as the sample. Babs, that’s my wife, told him to talk to Clarise.”
“What was wrong with his fantasy?”
“I don’t remember if Ken ever said.”
Bix paused to grab the fishing cap that lay on the edge of the bench. He fit it snugly over his bald spot as he got to his feet.
“Anyway, Clarise must have taken care of it, because he was all smiles next time I saw him. See you around.”
“WE HAVE TROUBLE, Lex,” Clarise said as she shoved the surveillance tape into playback mode. She fast forwarded to the telltale part and stepped back.
Lex came forward in his seat as he saw the two figures in white darting out the front door of the complex. “When was this?” he demanded.
“Around eight forty-five last night.”
“Who are they?”
“Two of our not-so-trustworthy employees, it would seem.”
“Which ones?”
“I sent a copy to the computer room for enhancement. They’re working on it now.”
“What in the hell are two of our employees doing going outside at that time of night? They know it’s strictly forbidden.”
“Yes, they do. They came back about an hour later. I’ll fast forward to that section.”
Clarise did and stepped back once again.
“They’re hiding their faces from the camera,” Lex said as he viewed the tape.
“Yes, but it’s still obvious it’s a man and a woman.”
“A man and a woman? Oh, ho, so they went out for a little lovemaking in the wilds?” Linbow laughed. “Leave it up to a college-age Lothario to convince his squeeze to put a little danger and excitement in their sex life by rolling around out in the dark in some weeds with perfectly comfortable beds left unused in their rooms.”
“Even if that’s what’s going on here, we can’t afford to keep them on the payroll.”
“Oh, who cares if they got a few burrs in their behinds? Weren’t you ever young and foolish, Clarise?”
Clarise bristled. “I don’t consider myself old. And I don’t consider those who violate the rules of their employer to be merely young and foolish. They’re untrustworthy. We have to find out who these two are and get rid of them. If they violate this rule, who knows which ones they’ll be violating next?”
“Yeah, yeah. Okay. So what about Cranston?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I haven’t been able to find out anything definite. The electric eye Tripp placed near his door that was supposed to keep tabs on him seems to have gone haywire.”
“Or was made to go haywire?”
“Yes, if Cranston is a professional and good enough, he could have spotted it and known what to do. The bug in his room is useless since he has a portable radio playing a sports station constantly.”
“That sounds suspicious.”
“He may just be a sports addict. He’s made a call to someone he talked to like a brother. The number’s unlisted so I couldn’t verify if it really was a brother. The conversations all revolved around sports and the mountain guide business he’s supposed to be in. Pretty mundane.”
“So what are you going to do about him?”
“Find out if he’s really who he says he is.”
“And how are you going to do that?”
“I told Tripp I wanted a set of Cranston’s fingerprints off the breakfast dishes. Soon as I get them, I’ll get one of your programmer geniuses to hack into the FBI fingerprint database to see if we get a match. I suspect by the end of today we should know for sure.”
A.J. PROCEEDED through the breakfast buffet, placing some scrambled eggs and fresh fruit on her tray without enthusiasm.
What she really wanted was coffee. She’d spent most of the night tossing and turning, and she definitely needed a pick-me-up.
“So who was it that sneaked out?” one of the servers behind the buffet table whispered to the server beside him.
A.J. stopped in her tracks, jolted into alertness, and stared at the bin of scalloped potatoes in front of her.
“I don’t know,” the other server answered, “but if Clarise ever finds out, they’re history. You wouldn’t believe how mad she was when—”
“Good morning, Margaret!” Emma’s sunny voice sung out. “Are you going to get some of those potatoes?” she asked, a serving spoon poised expectantly in her hand.
A.J. shook her head as she started to move on. “No, I think I’ll pass. Looks like there’s something black crawling around in them.”
From her peripheral vision, A.J. could see a worried look on Emma’s face as she squinted into the scallopedpotato bin. A.J. watched as she quickly put down the serving spoon. It seemed only fair that Emma forgo those scalloped potatoes inasmuch as she had made A.J. forgo eavesdropping on the conversation between the servers.
As soon as she got her cup of coffee, A.J. looked around the room for Zane, eager to tell him about what she had overheard. She spotted him having breakfast at a table with Ken Beyette. She moved to join them. And bumped smack dab into Lex Linbow.
Coming face-to-face with him without warning—and without coffee—was rough. If A.J.’s reflexes hadn’t been so automatic, they would have both ended up wearing the food on her tray.
“Excuse me,” she said, fighting
to maintain her precarious hold on her tray.
Linbow stabbed his glasses to the back of his nose with stubby fingers and then stepped around A.J. as though she was an ill-placed obstacle.
A.J. watched him stalk off, people jumping out of his way as he steamrolled across the dining room.
“You’d think the guy owned the place or something,” Zane said suddenly from beside her.
A.J. turned toward him. He looked wonderful in dark knit slacks and a sweater. And, unlike her, no bags under his eyes. She could really resent him for that.
“Clarise saw the surveillance tapes, Zane. She thinks it was staff members who sneaked out.”
“Let’s hope she continues to think that. They’re already suspicious of me.”
A jolt of alarm went through A.J. “How do you know?”
“When I got back to my room last night, I found that they’d bugged it. They also wired the door to keep track of my comings and goings. Don’t worry. I took care of them. Come on over to the table. Beyette isn’t exactly Mr. Congeniality with me. I’m hoping you can get him to open up.”
“You’ve learned something?” A.J. asked as they began strolling in the direction of the table.
“Bix Nelson said something negative happened in connection with Beyette’s first fantasy experience. I’m counting on you to douse him with your feminine wiles and dig out the details.”
“I’m into wits, not wiles.”
“Still, Beyette’s going to appreciate the packaging your wits come in. Heaven knows, I do. Uh-oh, here comes Deann. I’ll go head her off and keep her occupied. Meet you back at your room.”
Zane took off toward Deann and A.J. continued on to where Ken sat alone. As Tripp cleared away Zane’s breakfast dishes, A.J. pulled up a chair next to Ken and hoped inspiration would strike her as to how best to approach the subject. She muttered a subdued good morning.
“So he threw you over for Deann, huh?” Ken responded.
“Excuse me?”
“Cranston. I saw him. He was coming on to you until he spotted Deann.”
“Yes,” A.J. said, clearly reading the pique in Ken’s tone. He obviously wanted to be the one coming on to Deann.
