“Certainly.” He punched in the number for her.
Sheila took the receiver, grateful that Reyes would have no way to know it was her calling. He’d be unlikely to screen calls coming from the front desk.
The voicemail picked up immediately, indicating he was on another call. Sheila hung up without leaving a message.
“He’s on the phone. It’s important that I talk to him. Can you have him come down here and see me?”
The guard looked puzzled. “Why didn’t you leave him a message yourself?”
Sheila sighed wearily. “He may be trying to avoid me. He was supposed to check on my husband and get back with me at home, and he didn’t.” The guard stared back at her. Sheila wanted to shake him by his bony shoulders. “Please believe me, it’s not like Mark to not call me back. He’s had some health problems lately, and I’m worried something’s happened to him tonight.” She hated the desperate note in her voice, but she had to get through to this clown, whatever it took. He might be her only way to get to Mark.
The guard’s brow furrowed slightly. “What did you say your husband’s name was?”
CHAPTER 60
Mark watched Dr. Cleary stare at him for a moment before turning and hastening into the protective darkness of the trees. He knew he should move, too. Something other than sitting there exposed, idling. But who was Security really after?
He needed time to analyze what Cleary had said. The whole story sounded ridiculous—yet he had the wound behind his ear and he held half of the alleged device in his hand right now. Mark squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus his thoughts. Was Cleary telling the truth, or was he using him for his own purposes, setting him up?
Mark opened his eyes again, feeling trapped and exhausted. He couldn’t even trust his own mind right now. Three memory lapses for sure, and how many that he didn’t know of? And if he believed Cleary, there could be memories planted in his brain.
He pulled away slowly. Aimless though it was, the motion felt good, useful. Then he caught a glimpse of headlights in his rear-view mirror. Grateful he’d left his own lights off, he drove along the perimeter of the parking lot, back to the darkest part behind the building. He checked his rear view again. The car seemed to have stopped near where he’d been parked.
Careful not to brake, he made a U-turn to position his taillights out of view of the car that had stopped. Only then did he apply the brakes.
He watched as two silhouettes got out, split up, and headed in the direction Cleary had gone minutes before. Tyler must have called Security. Surely they’d be looking for both of them. But what would happen if they found them? Would they try to re-implant him? He reflexively rubbed at the sore spot behind his ear.
Mark decided to get away from his car for now. Security might recognize it from when he and Cleary tried to exit. He cut the engine, pocketed the keys just in case and crept back toward the rear of the building, staying in the shadows as best he could. He didn’t know if Cleary was guessing or actually knew there were security cameras around, but he decided it was safer to assume there were.
He slowly made his way toward the clinic’s rear exit, reaching into his pocket and fingering the tiny device to make sure he wasn’t imagining the whole thing. He could still see the reflections of the emergency vehicle lights around the front of the building. He wondered if Cleary’s idea would even work. What would he do, walk up and say, “Take me to a hospital, to anywhere but here?”
Careful not to dawdle under the light just behind the building, Mark hastened to the back door and turned the knob. Locked. He tried it again to make sure. Then he cupped his hand and peered inside, but saw nothing and no one in the dim after-hours light. If he could break in, he could at least hide somewhere while he thought of what to do.
Maybe he should just call the police, and let someone else figure out if Cleary was telling the truth. He reached for his cell phone to see how much juice it had and saw there was a message. It was set to vibrate mode, but he couldn’t remember feeling it signal a call. He pressed the buttons to listen to his message.
Hi, it’s Sheila. I need to talk to you right away. Call me at home.
Then he remembered her call from earlier, when he’d forgotten who she was. She must have called back after Cleary had taken him away. By now she must be frantic. Mark started to dial their home number then stopped. No time—and what would he say to her?
Mark put away the phone and tried to gauge the thickness of the glass in the door’s porthole window—and whether it would set off some kind of alarm if he smashed it. That seemed likely, since they had a pharmacy in the clinic. He felt rushed, pressed to make a decision: break in and hide somewhere to call Sheila and the police, or somehow use the ambulance to get out? They were probably out there doing some paperwork; surely they wouldn’t be there much longer. He had to decide—
A flash of headlights caught his attention. The car that had stopped to look for Cleary was headed right toward him. He quickly scrambled into the darkness of the bushes behind him. Crouching down in an especially dense pocket, he carefully bent a branch to allow himself a view.
The car pulled up to the rear entrance of the clinic. Two men in dark clothing got out. As they stepped around the car to the rear passenger door, they were caught in the light and he could see the insignias on their sleeves. Security.
They opened the car door, then each took hold of one arm of their passenger and pulled him out and to a standing position. Cleary! He couldn’t stand on his own; his head lolled on his shoulders. No one spoke, as if they knew just what they needed to do. What had happened to him? Why were they taking him into the back of the clinic, when there was still an ambulance out front?
Mark watched as they went inside, shutting the door behind them, and with it, one of his options. Didn’t matter now if it was locked or not, he didn’t dare go in there.
CHAPTER 61
Josh reviewed the implant’s programming, rubbed his eyes, then reviewed it all again. It looked right both times, but as he waited in a vacuum for word on Cleary and Weston, he gave in to compulsion and checked it yet again.
First he’d erased all the prior programming and content from Simmons’ device. Then he’d set up the memory erasure logic for Cleary on his computer and verified that it loaded correctly. Finally, he re-erased the device. He wanted to implant it first, make sure Cleary knew what was coming, and then download the memory erasure when he was ready.
He forced himself to turn away from the computer screen. He’d looked at the programming so many times now, even if there was a problem, he’d be blind to it. To try to distract himself while he waited, he idly flipped through one of the science journals scattered on his desk.
He didn’t even see the pages. All he could see was Cleary’s face. Cleary and Weston. He hurled the magazine across the room. Every minute that ticked by made it more likely that Cleary had gotten off the property before Security could act.
What if they didn’t find either of them? What if they only found one of them? Josh tried to think through the ramifications, to ready himself for whatever happened. Cleary undoubtedly had Weston’s implant. So if they only found him, Weston could get out and talk. But they could defuse that situation by wiping Cleary and altering Weston’s records to make him look like he was headed for a breakdown. But if they only found Weston, and Cleary still had the device…
A knock sounded at the door. “Security.”
“Come in.” Josh stood, anxious to see who they’d brought.
The door opened, and there was Cleary, suspended between two uniformed OneMarket security guards. He was not handcuffed, but he didn’t appear capable of fighting. His legs did not support him; his head wobbled.
“What’s the matter with him?”
“Stun gun. We found him out near the perimeter fence, and had to subdue him,” said the taller of the pair.
“Follow me.” Josh discreetly slipped the device into a tiny plastic case and put it in his pocket. Th
en he led the way to one of the exam rooms, entering ahead of them and turning on the light. “Set him in that exam chair.”
Josh thought he caught Cleary glaring at him as the guards hauled him over and arranged him in the chair.
“Anything else?” asked the taller one.
“Yes. Restrain his wrists and ankles. I don’t have an assistant this evening.” Josh smiled.
The shorter guard reached into his back pocket and took out two sets of nylon riot cuffs. He stepped toward Cleary and deftly applied one of the sets of cuffs to his wrists. He then bent down, easily deflecting a weak kick, and applied the other one around Cleary’s ankles. “That’ll do it. Just need a pair of sturdy scissors to get them off.”
“Good. Thanks. Please wait outside.” Josh shut the door after the men left. “So. Where’s Weston?”
Cleary closed his eyes and gave a slight shake of his head.
“You don’t know? Well, they’re looking for him. If they found you, I’m sure they’ll get him, too.” Josh hoped he was right, but at least he had Cleary. He could prevent more damage with just Cleary than with just Weston.
He stepped toward his patient and adjusted the exam chair to a reclining position. He leaned close to Cleary’s ear. “Where’s Weston’s device? I’ll need it when they find him.”
Cleary opened his eyes and tried to focus on Josh.
He again shook his head.
“I’ll bet you don’t know.” Josh started patting Cleary down, and found a number of objects in his right pocket. He roughly shoved him so he could more easily reach inside, then pulled out all the contents and dumped them on the counter. Ignoring the scalpel and gauze pads, Josh picked up the small plastic bag and looked at it, refusing to believe what he saw.
Only half the Genesis unit.
He thrust the bag in Cleary’s face. “Where’s the rest of it?”
Cleary didn’t answer.
“Where is it?” Josh shouted, as if Cleary hadn’t heard him the first time.
Cleary still didn’t answer. Josh could swear he saw a hint of a smirk on his face. He had to fight the urge to hit him. He knew if he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop.
His hands trembling with fury, he checked all the rest of Cleary’s pockets, shoving him around like a sack of flour to get at what he wanted. There was nothing more except the usual personal things: a wallet, a comb, car keys.
“How dare you? How dare you do this?” Josh was outraged at the destruction of his creation. Worse, he was terrified that Weston held the other half, or knew where it was. So even if he blocked Cleary’s memory, Weston might now have physical proof of Genesis. And with the device ruined, he’d have to take the time to make a new one before he could re-implant Weston—if they even found him.
He glared at Cleary, shaking with anger. “You son of a bitch. I should have known you’d fuck things up. You’re not going to do any more damage.” He took Simmons’ implant from his pocket and set it on the counter. “You won’t have the chance to tell anyone else your story. Remember how we made sure Weston didn’t remember his procedure?” He paused and smiled. “Do you remember how well it worked?”
Ignoring Cleary’s muttered pleas, he reached inside the instrument drawer for a scalpel. Taking his time to draw out Cleary’s misery, he put on gloves, then removed the sterile wrap from the instrument. Not bothering with anesthetic, he approached Cleary with the scalpel, taking pleasure in the look of fear in his eyes.
Josh grabbed him roughly by the ear, twisting his head to get at his chosen spot. He noticed that Cleary hadn’t yet regained much of his motor control, and was unable to offer much resistance, restraints or not. He made the incision with the scalpel, drawing the knife a little more slowly than necessary. Cleary groaned.
Then he turned back to the counter, still taking his time, increasing the anticipation, and took the Genesis device from its plastic case. He grasped it with a tiny forceps and held it up for Cleary to see. He wiped the blood from the incision, then delicately inserted the device in the small pocket he had created in the skin.
He swabbed the area again with rubbing alcohol, taking pleasure in Cleary’s futile groans. Then he applied some dermal adhesive. The less evidence of the procedure, the better.
Josh set aside his instruments and stared down at Cleary. “Time to upload the program now.”
Cleary gave him a confused, pained look and tried to utter a protest. It came out garbled.
Josh turned, closed the door to the exam room to let Cleary feel even more vulnerable waiting there alone and restrained, and went to his office to upload the programming that would eliminate any further threat from Cleary.
CHAPTER 62
“His name is Mark. Mark Weston.” The guard’s sudden interest puzzled Sheila. The mention of Mark’s name wiped away his bland expression. He now stared at her with a furrowed brow and shifted his stance as if he suddenly had somewhere to go.
Molly stepped forward and interjected, “Why do you care? He works here, his wife can’t get hold of him, and his boss is avoiding her. That’s all you need to know. Can you page him, or get his boss to come down here instead of hiding behind his voicemail?” She leaned her forearms on the counter and tried to look as menacing as her shortish stature would allow.
The guard glared at her. “Who are you?”
“She’s my sister. We’re not leaving until I see my husband, or at least Reyes.” Sheila took Molly’s cue and leaned on the counter.
The guard stood silent for a moment as he appeared to consider something. Then he shrugged his shoulders slightly and picked up the phone. “Suit yourself.” He dialed a number and waited. “Yes, Mr. Reyes? This is Kimball at the front desk… I need you to come down here.” He frowned slightly. “No, it can’t be handled over the phone. Need you in person for just a few minutes…yes…thank you.” He hung up, his expression once again impassive. “You can have a seat. He should be here shortly.”
Sheila curtly thanked him and retreated to the seating area with Molly. “Did you see how his face changed when you told him Mark’s name?” whispered Molly.
“That was odd. I wonder what made him decide to be helpful all of a sudden?” Sheila absently wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans.
“I don’t know. I was about to threaten to call the police if he didn’t do something to help.”
Pressing her fingertips to her temples, Sheila stared at the marble fountain, trying to breathe evenly to keep herself calm, despite the sense of foreboding threatening to overwhelm her.
Molly glanced over Sheila’s shoulder. “Someone’s getting out of the elevator.”
Sheila turned and watched as a man exited the elevator and proceeded to the guard’s desk with a clipped, impatient gait. They had a brief conversation, but she couldn’t make out the words. His shoulders visibly tensed beneath his white cotton dress shirt as they spoke. As the man started toward them, the guard picked up the phone and appeared to be hurriedly placing a call.
He held out his hand and plastered a slippery smile onto his face. “Hello, I’m Jeff Reyes. Which of you is Mrs. Weston?”
Sheila stood and took his hand in polite reflex. “I’m Mrs. Weston. You were supposed to call me back. I couldn’t wait around anymore without knowing what was going on. Where is Mark?”
Reyes extended his hands, palms up, and tried to make his smile look apologetic. “I’m so sorry. He was away from his desk when I went to find him. I checked in a couple of places he might be, but he wasn’t there. I figured he might have been meeting with some others, and I’d check again after a bit.”
“You mean to tell me you have no way to track someone down in an emergency? So what if he’s meeting with people, can’t you figure out where and get to him?” Molly stood, bristling. “This is just bullshit.”
Reyes turned to her, his face chalk-white and his smile a brittle remnant. “And you are?”
“Her sister, Molly.”
Sensing Reyes had no real intention to h
elp, Sheila interrupted, “Look, I have an idea. Can you just escort us to his desk and we can wait for him there ourselves? No need for you to waste your precious time looking for him.”
“It’s against policy for non-employees to be on the floors unattended.” The smile had completely disappeared.
“Then what in hell do I have to do to locate my husband? You tell me, then!” Sheila’s voice rose in pitch as she fought to keep her composure in front of Reyes.
Simon Harris gripped his cell phone so hard he could feel the tendons in his hand stiffen like metal bands. As he listened to Victor relay the latest developments, Simon wanted to wrap his fingers around someone’s neck as tightly as they were wrapped around his phone.
“Reyes is down there with the wife and the sister? I told him to screen calls!”
“They got Kimball to call Reyes down without telling him they were there. So Reyes walked into the situation.”
“Terrific. What’s he telling them?”
“He’s pleading ignorance, but from what Kimball tells me the wife’s getting hysterical and they don’t look like they’re going to leave. My men are still looking for Weston, but what do you want us to do about this problem in the meantime?”
Simon rubbed his eyes. Sharp pains snaked and swirled behind them, prelude to a monstrous headache. “Hold on, let me check with Maria.” He stabbed the buttons to hold the call and speed-dial his counsel.
“Maria speaking.”
“It’s Simon again. We have a problem.”
Maria’s voice was tense. “I’m working on the plan. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”
“Hold on that for now—I have an update, and a new problem. We have Cleary and Tyler’s preparing to implant him and erase his memory, so now we’re covered on that front. But we don’t have Weston yet, and his wife and her sister have shown up.”
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