by Sheila Lowe
“You didn’t answer your phone. I thought something happened to you.” Jenna paused. “I’m at the lab. It’s all closed up.”
Jessica’s tone softened. “So, you know—”
“—about Simon. Zach told me.” Jenna’s voice broke. “Ariel, I can’t believe it.”
“Simon was on his way to meet me at Starbucks.”
Jenna stepped into the elevator. “Why was he meeting you?”
She dug her teeth into her lower lip. She didn’t want Jessica to hear her suffocating in her grief. But they were two halves of the same person; how could she not know?
“He said his line wasn’t secure, Belle. Now he’s dead.”
“Oh my God.”
“We have each other; we’ll get through it.”
Who would know that better than Jess? She was the expert at grieving, although she had tried to hide it from Jenna, even from herself.
Maybe like me, she waits to be alone, looking in the mirror, before she lets herself cry.
Jenna pushed the button for the third floor and stood with her back against the wall, dashing away tears with the heel of her hand. The rumbling sound of machinery came from below and the elevator began to ascend.
She said, “You think his phone was bugged—that someone heard him talking to you.” It was not a question.
“Don’t you?”
“Yes.”
Jessica gave her a quick summary of all that had happened while she was in the hospital—her visit with Matthew Casey; checking into the hotel after learning of Simon’s death; what she had learned from the flash drive. “I know it was them, sitting right down the block from Casey’s house. They were controlling his behavior from their car. I saw the moment he changed—when they activated the device. All of a sudden, I looked in his eyes and there was nobody home.”
“You mean, like me the other night.”
“Just like that,” Jessica acknowledged with misgivings. “He just went blank. Then he exploded and came after me.”
Jenna left the elevator and headed for Simon’s office. “Since you’re safe, I’m going down to the Project 42 lab and see if I can find any proof of what they’re doing.”
“No, Jen! Don’t be a hero. I’m on my way back to Ventura. Stay away from the lab and wait for the cops to handle it.”
“Okay, sure.”
“Don’t give me ‘okay, sure.’ Promise you’ll leave there right now. Get Zach to take you home. I can be at your place in less than an hour. Detective Jovanic is going to call when he gets off work.”
“I’ve got to find out what’s here. I can’t just leave this—thing in my head and wait to see what the cops think about it.”
“Some of those emails were incriminating enough to get an investigation going,” Jessica pleaded.
“We can just hand over the files and let Detective Jovanic take it from there. He’ll have more credibility than we do. He can tell the FBI. They’ll listen to him.”
Jenna knew she ought to be happy that the detective was willing to help them, but her insides were as hollow as the chocolate bunnies she and Jess used to find in their Easter baskets: wrapped in shiny foil on the outside, but under the thin shell, nothing but dead air.
Her voice was low and terse in the empty corridor. “Look, Ariel, they haven’t messed with my head yet today, but you can’t expect me to hang around waiting to see what they’ll do next. I’ll see you at home. I love you.”
Ending the call, she powered down the phone. Sometimes it was weird how she and Jessica could look so alike, but be at opposite ends of the universe in so many other ways. It was unfair of her, but in some capricious corner of her mind Jenna felt betrayed that her twin had no way to fully understand how she felt, having a microscopic silicone chip buried in her brain, programmed to interfere with her emotions and behavior without her input or control.
She slid her card key across the reader on Simon’s office door, rerunning their final encounter in her mind. After finding the appalling memo he had inadvertently left in the file, Jenna had issued an ultimatum—put a stop to it, or I will. They had very nearly come to blows over her threat to expose Project 42.
Simon had warned her to let it go, said she had no idea what she was meddling in. But her sense of morality, offended, she had lost her temper, shouting that she could not be with someone who found the concept of “informed consent” unimportant; that it was unacceptable to experiment on a subject without their knowledge. She’s said the relationship was over.
At first, Simon had mocked the permeable walls of her morality, reminding her of the fact that she was engaged in an illicit affair with a married man. Then, when he saw that she was serious he had started pleading with her, saying that he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. He was still trying to persuade her when she brushed off his attempts to change her mind and stalked out, locking herself in her own office.
After their confrontation, Jenna feared that Simon, not knowing she had already downloaded all the Project 42 files, would do something to limit her access. That was when she decided to bury it in the rubber tree plant to recover later.
Now Simon was dead. The enormity was more than she could absorb.
Could she really detect the wild thyme and tangerines of the cologne he’d had her order from a company in Argentina? Or was it her imagination that told her his familiar scent lingered in the room?
She did what she could to barricade herself against the memories, but all she wanted was to sit in Simon’s chair and pretend to nestle into him, the way she used to sit in his lap in her armchair at the apartment he had found for her.
Despite knowing he was married, Jenna had fallen in love the moment they’d met. Not just married. Married to a powerful U.S. senator.
She had made an effort to kill her feelings, but when he took her with him to San Diego to the pharmaceutical convention and declared himself in love with her, too, she had allowed herself to be carried along on the wave of emotion. What a freaking cliché she was.
She knew all his faults—he could be arrogant and thoughtless. But she had discovered a softer, more generous side that she believed Simon revealed to no one else. The side that had allowed her to overlook his unhappy union with Christine Palmer. Lovesick and stupid, she had believed his lies about leaving his wife.
She clenched her hands so tight that her body shook with the effort to contain her heartbreak. Indulging those memories was a luxury she could not afford. Not now, not ever.
Opening the center desk drawer, she took Simon’s spare card key, which offered access levels in the building that her own card did not, and slipped it into her pocket. Another gift of providence.
When the elevator door opened at the basement laboratory Jenna stood on the threshold, tempted to return to the lobby and get the hell away from BioNeutronics as Jessica had urged her to. But as the door started to close, she thrust her arm out and interrupted the sensor beam.
Raising a defiant middle finger to the security cameras she knew were hidden near the ceiling, she sped past the data center, the biochemist’s office, the chem lab, the biohazard room, the prep room, the PCR lab, the microscopy room and around the corner at the end of the hallway. By the time Kevin Nguyen saw the tape, it would be too late.
The mini blinds over the lab windows prevented her from seeing if anyone was inside, but the empty parking lot made her believe she was alone in the building. She slid Simon’s card key across the newly installed reader on the door. Her nerves were playing havoc with her ability to hold the damn thing steady. The light flashed green and she pushed open the door, flipped the light switch.
This was the first time she had seen the private section of the basement lab. Its setup must have been completed during the time she had been held unconscious. At one end of the lab, two computer work stations stood opposite each other. At the other end a metal fume hood allowed technicians to work safely with noxious chemicals.
Along the center was a large black laminate
island lined with cabinets, where scientists would perform experiments. Glass tubes, slides, and other laboratory supplies were stacked on shelves and in glass-fronted wall cabinets. Her eyes swept the long work tops and cabinets that ran the length of the room. She was looking for a transmitter like the one Matt Chase had. Jess had said it looked like a mini tablet.
She recognized some of the equipment from the requisitions she had filled out under Simon’s direct- ion—gas chromatography autosampler, centrifuge, stereo microscope with camera attachment, the hideously expensive scanning electron microscope, so powerful it could display an entire universe in a speck of dirt. Aside from those items, the work tops were bare.
Jessica’s voice echoed as loud as if her twin were speaking right inside her head: What did you think, Belle? You’d just walk in and there it would be, lying on the counter, so obvious that you couldn’t mistake it?
“That would have been nice of them,” Jenna muttered under her breath. She checked the wall clock. Her plan was to get in and out as expeditiously as possible. She had promised Zach she would return within fifteen minutes, max, and she had already used up half of those.
It was important to conduct a systematic search. That was the way she liked to do things. Being organized had always helped Jenna to manage stressful situations, and next to Nguyen’s men breaking into her apartment, this was the highest stress situation she had ever encountered.
First, she tried the drawers. Locked. Locked. Locked. Locked. Cabinet doors, locked. With each handle that refused to yield, her hopes sank a little further.
She checked the time. Four minutes down. Nearly time for her to leave.
Moving on to the cabinets in the center island, she stiffened, hearing sounds in the corridor. Someone was talking.
Her gaze traveled around the lab, desperately looking for a place to hide, but the straight lines and angles scoffed at any hope of easy concealment. No time to run across the room and turn off the lights.
The card key reader on the door made an audible click. Jenna ducked behind the island and folded herself into as small a package as she could manage.
The voice, a familiar one, was apparently talking on a phone. “...leave lights on in Project 42 lab?” said Raisa Polzin. She paused. “...well, I am saying somebody did. I am right now in 42 lab and...” Polzin broke into a language that Jenna didn’t recognize.
What would she do if she discovered Jenna hiding in the private laboratory? Everyone at BioNeutronics knew that the scientist had the hots for Simon.
Polzin’s hatred for Jenna had floated between them like the odor of rotten eggs from day one. Project 42 had upped the ante. Did she know about the twins? Was she aware of their separate sojourns in the lab’s basement? Jenna hunkered even lower behind the island, hardly daring to breathe.
Oh crap, please go away.
She heard the jingle of keys. From the changing timbre of her voice Polzin seemed to be bending down. On the other side of the island a lock clicked. The sound of well-oiled ball bearings in the slides of a drawer being opened and closed.
Polzin switched back to English. “Our Mr. Chase is becoming quite a problem. Needs to be handled right away. I will bring the new RC1 device. Will be good test. The higher range frequencies should put him over the edge.”
Behind the island Jenna crouched, listening to the woman speak about Matt Chase as if he were a lab rat. What she had just eavesdropped confirmed her fears. Polzin and her confederates were causing the Project 42 dropouts to kill themselves.
“I need to pick up a journal from the library,” Polzin said. “I want to show you an article...” She switched languages again. Seconds later, the sound of the scientist’s rubber-soled shoes squeaking on the floor had faded, along with her voice.
Jenna rose on shaky legs. She had no doubt they would soon be planning a similar fate for her. If she could reach Detective Jovanic in time, she might be able to save Matt Chase, and herself.
She slipped around the island and headed for the door. Something on the black surface of the work top caught her eye. Polzin had left an electronic tablet there—the device she had been discussing on the phone? It was larger than what Jessica had described, but...
It can’t be that easy. Can it?
t h i r t y – e i g h t
One vehicle sat in the parking lot and it was not a Dodge Ram truck.
Where is Zach?
Jenna tore around to the front of the building and out to the main road where there was foot traffic in the intersection and plenty of vehicles. If Raisa Polzin came chasing after her there would be witnesses—to what? She doubted the scientist would tackle her in public, right after Simon’s death.
Simon.
Across the street, Starbucks’ pink awning fluttered in the breeze like a waving hand. He had stood in this spot less than twenty-four hours ago, preparing to meet Jess, just before he was mowed down and left to die in the street like roadkill.
The short blast of a vehicle horn caught her attention. Zach’s truck, up the block, was backing toward her. He stopped beside her and Jenna climbed into the cab. “Where were you?”
“Getting coffee,” he said, indicating the cup holder, which held two cups with the familiar green mermaid logo. “When I got back, a woman was driving into the BioNeutronics lot, so I parked down the street. I didn’t think you’d want her to see me.”
“Good move. She’s one of the scientists on the project I told you about.” Jenna took one of the cups and wrapped her hands around it, trying to soak up its warmth.
The outside temperature was in the seventies, but her emotions were frozen, her thoughts still tethered to the kill spot in the road.
“I tried to call and warn you,” Zach said. “But it went to voicemail. What happened in there?”
Jenna closed her eyes and allowed a self-congratulatory moment for her successful escape. “Lucky for me, she was talking on the phone and I heard her coming.” She held the electronic tablet up for him to see. “It was an awesome piece of luck that she was there. I couldn’t believe she left this out. I snagged it and hoofed it out of there. I wonder what she thought when she got back and it was missing.”
“What is it?”
“If I’m lucky, it’s a transmitter. There won’t be any going back after this.”
“Are you going to turn it on?”
“No way; I don’t want to risk messing up my brain worse than it already is. I plan on turning it over to a detective from LAPD this afternoon.”
t h i r t y – n i n e
“Nice haircut,” Jessica said drily. “Suits you.” She dropped into the chair across from where Jenna sat at her dining table, staring at the electronic tablet.
“Funny girl. I cut it because I thought I was going to the lab as you as me.”
“So, what happened?”
Jenna handed her the tablet. “I stole this. It think it’s the transmitter.”
“You what?”
“Yeah, I know. Not like me to be a lawbreaker, but I’m freaking out, Jess.” Jenna told her how close she had come to being caught.
Jessica turned the device over in her hand, examining it from all sides. It seemed ludicrous that something that appeared so innocuous was capable of doing such tremendous harm. She said, “I can’t believe you did that. Not that you stole it—though that’s pretty huge for someone who won’t even pick up a penny off the street. But, Jesus, Jen, you took an insane risk going there.”
“I had to,” Jenna said simply. “And it’s a good thing I did if they’re going to make Matt Chase kill himself. Can you think of any reason why I won’t be next on the list? At the very least, maybe there’ll be enough time to save Matt Chase.”
Jessica gave her a skeptical look. “If this is the transmitter—and it’s not like the one Matt had—it can’t be the only one they’ve got. Those guys parked near Matt’s house must have had one.”
“From what Polzin said, the signal they used on Matt wasn’t as strong as this on
e. Maybe this one lets them send commands from further away.”
Jessica thought about it. Her twin’s reasoning made sense. Or maybe she was just so done in from all the stress that she didn’t have the energy to argue.
“Zach wants us to wait at his place for Detective Jovanic to call,” Jenna told her. “Nguyen’s assholes won’t look for us up there.”
As if on cue, there was a knock at the door and Zach stuck his head around. “Hey, Jen, what time—Wow!” His eyes went back and forth between them. “You are Jen, aren’t you?” he said, looking at Jessica.
“What do you think?”
He entered the living room and studied the two of them sitting at opposite sides of the table. Jenna had showered and changed clothes, tidied up her haircut before Jessica’s arrival. Both twins were now similarly clad in black Tee-shirts and Levis. They had not planned it, but neither was surprised to see that the other had chosen the same outfit.
Zach’s eyes fixed on Jessica, who was still holding the tablet. “Hmm...I’m not totally sure, but—yeah, I think you’re Jen. Am I right?”
Neither answer, just showed him matching smiles. He gave up with a resigned shrug. “Now that we’re all here, c’mon up to my place. I ordered pizzas.”
Considering he was a bachelor, Zach kept his apartment surprisingly neat, Jessica noted. It didn’t smell like a locker room. No papers or magazines lying around, no dirty dishes or laundry. No wonder Jenna liked him so much, neat freak that she was. She had been that way since childhood; never could abide mess of any kind. Her toys and clothes were never strewn across the floor the way Jessica’s were.
She had insisted on keeping her most prized possessions in their original boxes, fresh and new as the day they were purchased. A speck of dirt on one of her dolls could spark a panic attack.
According to the shrinks their parents had taken them to, Jenna’s behavior did not rise to the level of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, but was a lesser sign of anxiety manifested by a need to be in control, to “do the right thing.” That explained her resolve in exposing the truth about Project 42 without regard to her personal safety.
