And yet Justin hesitated. He knew nothing about the people Morgan managed, but he had a good idea what Daniel Vizar would expect: discretion. It made Justin re-examine his motivation for seeking Morgan's whereabouts. Was he really concerned that something had happened to the man? Or was he just desperate to clarify what had happened with Lockmann—before he had to meet with Vizar?
Justin glanced at his watch, then leaned back in the chair. He'd been at it for nearly an hour, and it was well past the start of Sy Morgan's shift. If Morgan had decided to take the day off, Security would have notified me by now. They know I'm looking for him. Either Security or the grapevine, he thought, looking at the two monitors that were still transmitting current information. I don't see anybody lounging around the coffee machine, or smoking in the halls. Everybody in the place seemed to know almost immediately when Sy took a day off.
Justin had to admit it: what had started out as a cover-your-ass task had evolved into a manhunt. He was beginning to worry now—not so much for Sy Morgan, but for what his absence might mean. He kept thinking about Denaro's weird visits, and wondered if Morgan had seen one spectre too many. God knows, he found himself jumping at every slight movement in his peripheral vision. Maybe Morgan had finally experienced a personal visit from Caroline. It's enough to put anyone over the edge, Justin thought, recalling his own encounters with Caroline's “in absentia” remains.
The gooseflesh dancing on his arms was stayed by a shudder of disgust. I'm getting ghoulish, he decided, feeling somewhat ridiculous. He remembered what Vizar had said: "Denaro's wanderings are just one of her symptoms—no more or less. Nothing to be concerned about." Vizar would expect him to handle this reasonably. Ignore gut instinct and go with logic. Gut instinct and risk-taking were for Genetechnic's researchers, not for management staff.
Sacchara had been at it for two hours now, and it was time to give up. Vizar would expect a reasonable approach. Reason dictates I need a video tech. Some of them must be on duty this morning. Sacchara just had no idea where they worked. He imagined the video rooms were much like this one, but they could be anywhere in the adjoining buildings. Even though he didn't particularly like the idea of revealing Denaro's condition to anyone else, he needed someone up here to help him. He rang Security and told them he needed a video tech—at once.
* * * *
Rick tossed and turned in the narrow confines of the hospital bed. Even though he remained comatose, his body wanted to reject the painful stretching of soft tissues, that accompanied the rapid swelling taking place in his chest and throat. His breathing was hoarse and ragged, with a persistent whining sound that indicated how hard he was working to force air in and out of his system.
At first, Sheryl Matthews had argued with Herbert Blaisden—thinking it was better to take Lockmann off the respirator, than risk internal injury from the tubing in his throat. They'd reduced the size of the tubing, but even the restraints they'd used couldn't totally control the man's thrashing. With the patient's level of activity, it was a risk either way, but now she had to agree with Blaisden: the greater hazard to the patient at this point would be a reduction in his respiratory levels. And any attempt to tranquillise him—especially since they were dealing with an unknown—might easily prove fatal.
Sheryl didn't make a habit of arguing with her associates, but she detested the way Herbert Blaisden treated the rest of the staff. He enjoyed belittling those with an inferior education and less authority. It made Sheryl feel—every time they had a confrontation—that she was doing battle for all the techs, nurses, and junior doctors good ole Herbie abused. Right now, it bothered the hell out of her that in the one issue over which they'd differed, she now had to acknowledge he'd been right.
The patient is what matters. Dr. Matthews gritted her teeth, subdued her annoyance, and forced a smile. In one area she had the edge over Blaisden and always would: Herbert might put on a good show for the families, but it was apparent to anyone on staff that the good doctor didn't really give a damn for the patients he treated, whereas Sheryl, whether she liked it or not, couldn't help feeling a sense of compassion and responsibility for those under her care. For better or worse, when Richard Lockmann had been placed in isolation, she'd been co-assigned to his case. It was hospital policy to initiate co-management on the most serious cases. It was considered a preventative measure in a lawsuit-prone society.
Now, as she examined her patient, compassion came to the fore. In her opinion, his chances of recovery were nil, and she wished she could offer him a less painful way to die. But, there hadn't been too many miracles popping out of her medical practise lately. So few, in fact, that she'd ceased to believe in them. As she turned to go, she surprised herself by offering up a little prayer. “Whatever you do, God,” she whispered, “don't let the poor man regain consciousness.” With a sigh, she stripped off her gown, mask, and gloves, and left the room.
* * * *
Jason read through the symptoms Simon had found. “’ ... microscopic tumour initials occur in the stem. These can be stimulated to grow by IAA’, whatever that is. ‘External tumours occur on leaves and stems where wounding has occurred. There can be many small internal tumours’.” Jace leaned back and rolled his eyes. “This is scary stuff.”
“There's more,” Simon said, handing him another sheet. “This part talks about reoviruses in mice. I didn't understand much of it, but it might mean something to you.”
Jason rubbed his eyes. “Neurovirulence is controlled by some protein in an outer envelope. That's right,” he said thoughtfully. “Viruses have two parts. I'd forgotten that.”
He noticed the expression on Cole's face. “What the hell did you expect, Cole? I treat the illnesses they cause. I remember symptoms, not viral parts.”
“Speaking of which, there's something I want to ask you. Why'd they put Rick in isolation?”
Jace looked surprised. “You mean ICU.”
“No—isolation. I rang this morning, and they said that was the only change.”
“Holy shit! Margie didn't tell me that!” He went over to the phone and punched in a number.
“Who's Margie?” Simon asked.
Cole shrugged. “Nobody I know.”
“Margie, this is Jason. Is Rick Lockmann still in ICU?” He listened for a minute. “Uh-huh. Do you know why he did it? ... what's his condition now? ... Thanks.” When Jason hung up, he was frowning. “It's not good. Blaisden didn't say much, but Margie thinks he's getting nervous. He's calling for every test he can think of, but he doesn't seem to know what's wrong.”
Cole sank on to Rick's sofa. “What are his chances?”
Jason couldn't look at him. It was so much harder here—in Rick's house. “Sometimes it happens. A disease complex, or a new strain of flu causes symptoms we can't diagnose. We do the best we can to treat them, but—more or less—the patient has to get better on his own.”
Cole knew Jason was skirting his question, but he let it go. He didn't want to hear a negative answer any more than Jason wanted to give one.
Something had been bothering Simon. He'd spent an hour pouring over virus symptoms, and wondering what they'd look like in a person. Now he remembered the bombshell Cole had dumped on them the night before. “Didn't you say Rick had a sample of the virus here, Cole?”
Cole nodded. “It's over there—in the cupboard. The brown box.” Simon went over and opened the cupboard door. “Rick said not to touch it,” Cole warned him.
Simon turned to Jason. “Isn't flu just a virus?”
“'Flu’ is kind of a general term. But it usually refers to a virus.” Jason's eyes met Simon's and he suddenly realised what Simon was getting at. “Dammit, Simon!” he said, appalled, “You don't think—”
“Think what?” Cole asked. “That Rick got the virus from the stuff in that box?” He shook his head. “No way. He only picked it up two days ago. Rick's been sick a lot longer than that.”
Jason looked relieved. “Thanks, Cole,” he said.
But, Cole couldn't stop thinking about it. He remembered what Rick had said when he was delirious. And then, when he'd had the sleeping powder, and couldn't quite control his tongue. “Since Denaro touched him. That's what Rick claimed, Jason—that it was Denaro's touch that gave him the pneumonia.”
“That's ridic—” Simon started to say, glad to couch his sorrow in anger.
“No, it's not!” Cole jumped up and started to pace. “You think it's ridiculous because you don't believe in this out-of-body thing Rick said. But, he wasn't the only one to see her, Simon! I—did—too!" He enunciated it slowly. “The only difference is that Rick claimed she was still alive. I wanted to believe something like that was dead.” Cole walked around the room, smacking the tops of the piles of books and papers, all with titles referring to metaphysics and life-after-death. "Look at this shit!" he yelled. “You know how Rick researched stuff. If he said she was alive, I believe it! Alive enough, anyway, to pass on the virus that's killing him.” Cole started to cry—overwhelmed with grief and guilt. “Do you know what he said to me? ‘A few molecules is all it takes’. But I wouldn't listen—”
Simon had been trying to avoid looking directly at Cole; embarrassed by his friend's outburst, and half-afraid of breaking down himself. But Cole's last words triggered something in his memory—something he'd read. “What did you say?”
Cole fought for control. “Which part?”
“The last—something about molecules.”
“Rick told me, ‘A few molecules is all it takes’. He's worked with the stuff. He must know what he was talking about.”
“He did,” Simon said, and his voice was shaking. He started flicking through the pages he'd marked in one of Rick's books. He held it out for Jason to see. His hand was quivering so much that the scrap of paper he was using as a bookmark floated to the floor. “There—”
“Quit wiggling! I can't read it.”
“Then, listen!” Simon told him impatiently. “Each particle of WTV contains a copy of the genome.” He quoted, “'Therefore, even a single particle is capable of initiating infection’.” He frowned. “The question is—if this was an out-of-body experience, and not a ghost—would there be enough physical presence to deliver a particle of WTV?”
“That's not the only question, Simon,” Jace said. His expression was glum, but Cole saw something else there. Jason had just become a believer. Cole knew, because Jace looked as scared as he felt. “How the hell are we going to treat someone with a plant disease?”
* * * *
“I'm trying to locate Sy,” Justin Sacchara told Kefra Morrison with a smile. “He's gone missing somewhere in the complex.”
“I know. The word's out.”
“Coffee breaks have topped a new record?” Justin joked.
“Longest in Genetechnic's history,” Kefra smiled. “Do you have anywhere special you want me to look?”
“If we can start with last night's tapes, I want to see if Sy ever left to go home.”
For the first time, Kefra looked concerned. She hadn't realised things were that serious. “There's a problem with that, Mr. Sacchara. This room isn't monitored. What I can do, is start the trace in the hall outside.” She sighed. “I just have no way of knowing when to start.” She tried to explain. “Can you get a phone record from Security, so we have a time we can pinpoint him in the office? Otherwise, we may have to scan for hours.”
Justin picked up the phone, and told them what he wanted. “Last recorded call was 3:17.”
Kefra narrowed down her search, then started a scan of the hallway. “I'll make it at fifteen-second intervals so we can't miss him.”
When it came, it happened so fast that they almost missed it. “Remind me next time to go with ten-second frames,” Kefra muttered.
She froze it, checked the time, then backed it up so they could see when Sy came out the door. “He's running,” Kefra commented. “That's why we almost missed him.”
But, Justin had eyes only for Morgan's expression. The man was white and wild-eyed; his pupils dilated with terror. Justin knew that expression well—he'd seen it in his own mirror. Only one thing in this damned complex could make someone look that scared.
“What's wrong with him?” Kefra asked.
“Stop it!” Justin ordered, so abruptly that Kefra jumped. Sacchara had no intention of letting her know what was prompting Sy to act that way. “Just tell me this: if I want to follow his movements, how do I do it?”
“See the small map in that box? Click the mouse on it, and you'll be in control. It'll pan from unit to unit. Just hold the button down and trace the line.”
“Thanks.” Justin forced a smile. “I can handle it now.” After she'd left, he had to force himself back to the monitor. If what he suspected was true, he wasn't really going to be able to handle anything.
* * * *
“I still think Jace should have been the one to talk to Blaisden,” Cole told Simon grouchily. “Next to Rick, he's the one who could make this sound the most convincing.”
“Thanks,” Simon replied sarcastically. “I think I could do a credible job.”
“You look too shifty. Blaisden wouldn't believe you.”
“It's nice to know you have such a high opinion of my character.”
“I didn't say you were shifty—just that you have shifty eyes—”
“This gets better and better. Why don't you just say I have a face like a weasel, and thin lips—an obvious sign that I can't be trusted.”
Cole grinned. “Your lips aren't thin.”
“I guess it's good we're going with the happy-go-lucky mutt look. At least you won't have to play at being dumb.”
“Isn't this your stop?” Cole retaliated. “Or did I miss it, a couple of miles back down the road?”
Simon realised they were getting close to the Mausoleum. He said, a little urgently, “Seriously, Cole—you can't mention the out-of-body thing. Be a little vague. Let him jump to conclusions.” Cole was going to talk with Herbert Blaisden as soon as he dropped Simon. Blaisden had left a message on Cole's answering machine, asking to see him. He was looking for information about Richard Lockmann's illness. At least they wouldn't have to force a meeting with him.
“What do you think I am—an idiot? As it is, Blaisden probably won't believe what I tell him.”
“The big thing is you've got to change his perspective. Make him realise what he's looking at. Jace says Blaisden's one of the best in his field. If anyone can help Rick, it'll be him.”
“I still say Jason—”
Simon interrupted. “Jason knows damn well that Blaisden won't listen to him. In fact, the first thing to get his back up would be some junior doctor, coming along to tell him his business.”
Jason had stayed behind at Rick's. He was studying the textbooks, to see what had been done to control the virus in plants. He didn't know if the same things would have any application for humans, but it might, at least, give them something to try.
Simon looked out the window. “Drop me here.”
“What do you think I am—a chauffeur? Maybe you'd like me to open the door for you, too?”
Simon smiled. “Don't bother. I can manage.” He stepped out, then turned back to tell Cole, “That information must've come from here. Any idea where to start?”
Cole eyed the big house grimly. “No, but watch your back.”
Simon nodded. “See you later.”
* * * *
“I'm telling you it's a plant virus: WTV. Wound Tumour Virus. That's what Rick said. A scientist from Genetechnic was doing some weird research with plant genes, and she accidentally got infected—”
Interest stirred in Blaisden's eyes. It was unlikely Lockmann had contracted a plant virus, but if the man's symptoms were the result of a lab accident, then Blaisden might have a better idea how to treat him—and contagion might not be an issue. “Lockmann worked with her?”
Cole hesitated. “Not exactly. But he handled some containers left over from one of
her experiments.” Cole knew he'd lost ground with that one. The doubt was back in Blaisden's expression.
“Why didn't you tell someone about this before?” It was almost an accusation.
Because I didn't listen to what my best friend had to say, you pompous ass. “Rick talked about it when he was delirious. I didn't know how important it was.” He flung it back on the other man. “Why didn't you ask me earlier for my help?”
Blaisden wasn't accustomed to being crossed. His sigh held a note of exasperation. He ignored Cole's question, saying “Maybe I'd better speak with this scientist. Where can I reach her?”
“You can't,” Cole said bluntly. He imagined how Blaisden would react to Rick's claim that Denaro was still alive, and opted for shock value instead. “Caroline Denaro's dead.”
That got him. A flicker of fear registered in Blaisden's eyes. “Dead?”
“Expired. Deceased. No longer with us.” I hope, Cole thought, remembering her spectral image. “Killed off by her research.”
Blaisden led Cole to a small cubicle off the main waiting area. “Wait here,” he said abruptly. He stalked out of the room.
He was back a second later. “Which company?”
Cole cleared his throat. “Genetechnic.”
Blaisden nodded and exited once more.
When he returned, there was an angry glitter in his eyes. “It seems you got your facts wrong, Mr. Calloway. Denaro's not dead. She's on sabbatical.”
Cole realised he'd made a terrible mistake. In trying to convince Blaisden to take him seriously, he'd pushed him into contacting Genetechnic. The very thing I warned Rick about. Cole stood up abruptly. “You called Genetechnic?!”
Blaisden was slightly taken aback by Calloway's reaction. “Of course I did. What did you expect?”
“I expected you to look up the company, you idiot," Cole shouted. “Maybe even check discreetly into Denaro's research.”
Light Play: Book One of The Light Play Trilogy Page 13
