Shatter Point

by Jeff Altabef

  Rachel whistled. “This is quite a list. Some of the oldest and most powerful families in the country are on it.”

  “The Cooper we’re looking for might not even be on this paper,” Tom said. “He could’ve been a guest of one of these families. We still might not have the right name. On average, each probably had five different guests over a summer—that’s another 1,140 people. The numbers start to add up.”

  “Tom’s right,” Mary answered tersely. “But we have to start with these names. Let’s divide up the list among ourselves, research our families, and see how many Coopers show up. It’s a distinctive name. With any luck, we’ll find our man. Remember, we only have family names, so we must research the entire family tree—everyone who shares the same last name.”

  Charles’s private line rang. He excused himself and left the main area for the small room next door. “Hello?”

  “Charles, this is Xavier. I’m sorry to bother you, but something weird came up.”

  He plunked down in a leather chair and placed the list Mary had compiled on a table next to him. “Just weird, Xavier? That would be a relief right about now.”

  “I’m not sure how much of a relief this will be. I just received a phone call from a Doctor Beck. He works at the New York Hospital. He said something sinister is going on in the research department. Apparently two projects, EBF-202 and a Project Qing, have some type of improper behavior or misuse. I know he’s the team leader on EBF-202.”

  “I’ve been briefed on EBF-202. The drug is very promising, but I’ve never heard about a Project Qing before. Did he elaborate on his concerns?” He lifted Mary’s list and absentmindedly started to review it while talking to Xavier.

  “He said he would only talk to you about it. He sounded serious, Charles. I looked into the name. Qing was the last great Chinese dynasty. The Opium Wars were waged under it.”

  “Terrific. Did he say anything else?”

  “Just that the head of research at the hospital is in on it.”

  “That is weird. It sounds like something I’ll want to investigate, but right now, other more pressing concerns are squeezing me.” His eyes tripped on a name from the list. “Xavier, what’s the name of the vice president’s chief of staff?”

  “Cooper Simmens. He’s the vice president’s younger cousin.”

  “How old is he?

  “He keeps in good shape, but I’d say he’s around forty or so.”

  “Do you recall what color his eyes are?”

  “Sure, he was at the board meeting for the hospital last night. They’re blue.”

  “Thanks, Xavier.” Charles lowered the paper.

  The Simmens family was one of the most powerful families in the country, which made going after Cooper Simmens hard and dangerous.

  He felt his resolve buckle. He needed to take another risk.

  “What aren’t you telling me, Charles?” Rachel stood close to her husband, alone in one of the upstairs bedrooms. “I know that look on your face.”

  A laptop lay open on the bed. “I was just doing some research.”

  She kept her eyes focused on him. “I can see the laptop, but I asked you what you’re keeping from me. I’ve known you for forty years. You’ve never been able to keep a secret from me, and you aren’t going to be able to do it now.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Sometimes, I think you can read my mind.” Charles sighed. “One of the names on the list caught my attention.”

  “Which one?” She tapped her foot impatiently.

  “Simmens. The vice president’s chief of staff is Cooper Simmens. He’s the vice president’s cousin.”

  Rachel’s arms fell to her side. “That’s not good. I’ve heard Ethel runs that clan with an iron grip.”

  Charles nodded.

  Rachel frowned. “The Professor said Cooper would likely have a dominating parental figure in his life. Ethel would fit. Does he have blue eyes?”

  Charles lifted the laptop. “This is a dossier on Cooper Simmens. It was risky for me to obtain it. Homeland Security vetted him before he became chief of the vice president’s staff. “

  He turned the screen so Rachel could see it. On the screen Cooper Simmens sat behind a desk, grinning shrewdly, his deep tan contrasting with his white shirt and his sparkling light blue eyes.

  She scanned the rest of his information. “He graduated from Princeton in the top ten percent of his class. That fits, although The Professor thought he would have done worse. He’s forty-three years old. That’s about right. Maggie is forty-one. It says he worked for the Simmens Group in their hotel division since he graduated from Princeton, a job like that would certainly let him travel freely. He’s been the chief of staff for his cousin for the last four years.”

  She finished reading the rest of the report a few minutes later and handed the laptop back. “He’s going to be hard to reach. The Simmens family employs heavy security. They don’t only utilize Secret Service, but private guards also.”

  Charles closed the laptop. “I don’t need to tell you that this is a very sensitive situation. Crossing the Simmens family is not something to do lightly.” He brushed his white hair to the side of his face. “Cooper Simmens’s cousin will likely run unopposed to replace the President.”

  “I don’t care if Peter Perfect is the King of England,” Rachel said sternly. “This is Maggie we’re talking about. We’ve got to find a way to grab his cousin and make him talk. We don’t have much time. It might be too late already.”

  He dropped the laptop on the bed. “Yes, of course you’re right. We’ll think of something. Give me a little bit of time. We need a way to grab him. We can’t barge into the Simmens estate with guns blasting.”

  “Mary’s going to find him on her own. It’s just a matter of time.”

  “I understand. I’m working on it, and I will think of something.”

  Rachel moved toward the door and he grabbed her arm. “Another thing popped up this morning. A Doctor Beck called Xavier about research projects in the New York Research and Teaching Hospital. You know him, don’t you?”

  “He’s the doctor who treated Jack a few months ago. Let’s ask him.”

  They found Jack hunched over a computer screen researching names from Mary’s list. “Jack, what can you tell me about Doctor Beck?”

  He glanced up from the screen. “Doctor Beck’s a good guy. I’m helping him in a brain trauma study. Why?”

  Charles leaned toward him. “He called someone close to me and said he needed to speak with me. He said something about research projects. He made it sound ominous.”

  Jack pulled out his cell phone. “I have his number right here. You should call him. He’s not the type of guy to make something up.”

  Darian pointed to the computer simulation projected on the wall. Each variation ended with the screen flashing the same red words: “Subject Deceased.” George and Brenda studied the results somberly. The analysis surprised no one.

  “I’m almost out of ideas,” Darian said wearily. “According to the computer analysis, Jack only has a few days left at most.”

  “Have you told him?” George asked.

  Darian shook his head. “I can’t reach him or his mom. I’ve left a dozen messages for them both, but so far, neither one called me back.”

  “What about Jack’s brother, Tom? Have you tried him?” Brenda asked.

  Darian stopped the computer simulation and the endless loop of death that depressed him. “Jack’s an adult. I shouldn’t have called his mom as it is, but if I don’t hear from one of them soon, I guess I’ll call Tom.”

  He leaned heavily against the stationary bike. “There’s only one more thing left to try at this point. We need to put Lassie down and autopsy her brain. Perhaps we can learn what her body has done to stop her brain development. She could be producing a chemical that remains in her brain tissue, one we can’t register with the other tests. It’s a long shot, but it might work.”

  “But Lassie’s
so valuable to the ongoing research, Darian,” George protested. “She proves EBF-202 works. If we put her down now, we’ll lose out on months of valuable data, data that will lead to a breakthrough. As you said, the autopsy’s a long shot. We’re unlikely to gain useful information from it that could save Jack.”

  “We must do something, George. Jack’s a human being. He’s a great guy. It wouldn’t be right to let him go without trying everything.” Brenda’s voice cracked.

  George nodded. “Of course we should do the best for Jack! Bring him in, and let’s try our best guess. We know EBF-202 breaks down in the body more quickly than EBF-101 did. We can try other drugs. It would be as long a shot as anything we could find out from autopsying Lassie now.” George rubbed his face. “He only has a few days, and EBF-202 will eventually save millions of lives. If we delay the development of the drug now, we’ll be sentencing thousands to death. We need to look at the big picture, too.”

  Darian’s phone buzzed. An unfamiliar number flashed on the screen, and his heart skipped a beat. He had spent most of the morning looking over his shoulder, sure a government agent would come for him, but until now, nothing had happened.

  He waved at George, cutting him off, and took the call. “This is Doctor Beck.”

  “I am Charles Sheppard. I understand you want to talk to me.”

  Darian’s mind spun. He never thought Charles would actually call him. “How do I know you’re Sheppard?”

  The voice chuckled into the phone. “I guess we’re going to have to meet for you to be certain. There’s a black sedan parked by the employee exit to the hospital. Go to the car.”

  He nervously glanced at George and Brenda. “Now isn’t a great time.”

  “If you want to see me, you’ll have to get in the sedan. It’ll leave in five minutes. The decision is yours.” The call disconnected.

  “What’s going on?” George asked.

  “I need to step out for a while. Think about what we should do here. If you can find an alternative treatment for Jack, then I’m game. Otherwise, start the autopsy in two hours if I’m not back by then.” Darian removed a thin envelope from his back pocket and handed it to George. “If I don’t come back by tonight, read the letter. It explains everything.”

  George took the paper without a word.

  “I have to go.” He slipped on his flip-flops and raced from the lab. As he reached the elevator, he spotted Vanessa in the distance coming toward him from the restricted Project Qing area.

  “Where are you going?” she called out.

  He hesitated as the elevator doors opened. “I’ll be back soon.” He darted into the waiting elevator and tapped the lobby button.

  The black sedan waited for him on the street. As he approached, the passenger side window slid down, and the driver said, “Get in the back, Doctor Beck.”

  Darian opened the back door and jumped in. When the door shut, the driver locked it from the front.

  “Where’s Sheppard?”

  A bulletproof glass partition rose between the front and backseats, the windows and the partition turning black.

  An embedded screen in the back of the seat in front of him flickered to life as the car pulled away from the curb. The driver’s grim face filled the screen. “There’s a hood on the seat next to you. I’ll tell you when to put it on. If you don’t, you will never leave the car alive.”

  The screen went black.

  What have I done?

  Maggie’s subconscious churned up her past in a tornado of dark memories and deposited her in the midst of a dream. The powerful pain medication she took before going to sleep enhanced it, making it more vivid than a normal dream—the colors and textures sharper and the emotions more intense.

  ***

  Battered and bruised, she lay alone in a hospital bed, and a couple of pillows in rough cases propped up her head. Though weary, her spirits soared. Paul had gone to the cafeteria, his coat draped over the chair in the corner of the room.

  A large male nurse wheeled a bassinet into the room and smiled as he approached. “Little Jack needs his momma.”

  Jack’s face had turned beet red as he angrily demanded his momma. The nurse rolled the bassinet next to her bed, and Maggie noticed a black and white stuffed cat tucked next to him with a note tied around the plush toy’s neck.

  “Did Paul buy him the stuffed toy?” she asked no one in particular. It would be just like him to slip out to the gift shop and buy his new son a toy, although why would he choose a cat? “Let me see the note.”

  The nurse handed her the toy, and her hand dug into its surprisingly soft fibers.

  ~~~

  Dear Maggs,

  I wonder what type of heavenly children we will have together. Of course, Jack will need to disappear.

  Your Special Friend,

  Cooper

  ~~~

  Maggie glanced at the cat and noticed the collar—the same blue collar she’d made for Mr. Cat all those years ago. An old bloodstain marred the inside of the fabric.

  She screamed and threw the stuffed toy at the door.

  ***

  She woke with the scream still on her lips.

  Terry leaned in close. “Are you okay?” He carried a tin tray containing a bowl of chicken consommé, tea, and a toasted baguette slice, and placed it on the table next to the bed.

  She sat up and winced from the sharp pain in her broken ribs and the ache in her head. “I’ve been better.”

  He clucked his tongue. “That must have been a really nasty fall you took.”

  She glared at the young man. “You and I both know that I didn’t take a fall.”

  “You should be more careful next time.” He shot her a knowing look.

  She felt a chill. Is he trying to warn me? Will he help me?

  “Terry, be a dear and grab me my pencils and the sketchpad.”

  He returned with the pad and pencils.

  While he arranged the food on the tray, she scribbled a quick note and furtively ripped it from the pad.

  “Is there anything else you need right now?”

  “I’m a little tired. Can you take back the pad?”

  When he reached his hand out for the pad, she discreetly slipped her note into his palm.

  “You should eat. Food will help you build up your strength.”

  She smiled weakly and nodded.

  ***

  When Terry closed the door to the suite, he opened his palm and read the note.

  Please call my boys to warn them. He’s going to kill them.

  He smiled, rolled the note into a ball, and popped it in his mouth. It always surprised him how easily he could manipulate the Maggies. Just give them a bit of hope and they always jumped.

  Vanessa strolled into her father’s waiting room.

  Clair sat staring sourly at her computer monitor, and glanced up from her screen with a forced smile on her face. “Good morning. Your father is waiting for you.”

  Vanessa paused at seeing the sadness behind Clair’s eyes. “Why are you so upset?”

  “A riot erupted in a Florida ghetto last night. The radicals turned over government cars and raided an armory. They say communists are to blame.” She whispered the word communists as if it were bad luck to speak it out loud. “The military is sweeping in to round them up.”

  She shook her head and a frown replaced her smile.

  “Communists? Yeah, sure,” Vanessa muttered as she continued into her father’s office. The government used an assortment of bogeymen to cover their harsh treatment of citizens, usually rotating between communists, artists, organic farmers, and liberals.

  Her father perched regally behind his desk while George and Doctor Sanders sat facing him. As she entered the room, he enthusiastically waved for her to come close. “We’ve saved a chair for you.”

  Why are Doctor Sanders and George meeting together with my dad? And where is Darian?

  She trudged toward the one empty chair, and both men stood politely. S
he greeted them with an empty smile and a nod of her head. With no other options, she sat in the chair and faced her father, donning a pleasant mask.

  “I’m sure you’re wondering why you were called into this meeting,” her father said. “We are doing an important presentation tonight on Project Qing and EBF-202, and we would like you to attend.” While unable to express much emotion with his face, he used his voice to emote a wide range of feelings, as a concert violinist might with his bow.

  Over the years, she had become attuned to those nuances, and she sensed a certain level of giddiness laced with concern in her father’s tone.

  Hiding her surprise well, she smiled at the two doctors sitting next to her. “Will Doctor Beck be joining us?”

  The pleasantness vanished from her father’s voice. “Doctor Beck won’t be attending the presentation. His behavior has become too erratic. This presentation is for extremely important hospital benefactors. George is taking over for Doctor Beck and will discuss EBF-202. You’ll be at the meeting as an observer. It will give you a chance to understand more about the entire project you’re working on. It was Doctor Sanders’s idea to include you.”

  “Are you taking Doctor Beck off EBF-202?”

  The temperature in the office dropped off a cliff as her father leaned forward. “That’s not your concern. We will leave at 8 P.M. Let’s meet in my office by 7:45. If you two doctors wouldn’t mind, I’d like to speak to Vanessa alone for a moment.”

  They scooted out of the room, looking happy to be dismissed.

  Wickersham somberly pointed at the couch. “Let’s have a quiet conversation.”

  Vanessa cringed as she remembered the previous night—the last time she had been on the couch with Darian—but she reluctantly followed her father and sat next to him.

  “Nessa, you know I always have your best interests in mind, don’t you?” He spoke softly, as if she were still a child. He always called her Nessa when he wanted something from her. “You and I have developed certain rules of conduct over the years. I don’t inquire about your personal relationships, and you respect my privacy as well, right?”