Fatal Complications

by John Benedict

  Ben eyed the mouse. If he could just get his hands on it for ten seconds, he could trigger crisis mode on SoftPartner and send electronic SOSes to multiple law enforcement agencies, including Hershey’s finest, the only ones with any real prayer of getting here in time to help him. He inched toward the mouse.

  Nikolai was scowling. “Okay, I guess you are right,” he said, “but hurry and get here.” He paced around in a small arc behind Ben’s chair.

  Ben advanced his hand until it was about six inches away from the mouse. He glanced up at Nikolai, whose head was bobbing up and down with the phone still glued to one ear. Ben almost had the mouse. Several moments later the Russian stopped pacing and said, “Yeah, okay. I got it.”

  Just as Ben got his hand on the mouse, Nikolai reached under the desk and disconnected all the cables going to the computer. The screen flickered and went dark and the hard drive whirred down to a stop. The fans stopped as well, leaving only silence.

  Shit. The mouse was now useless and SoftPartner had just been neutralized. What could he do? Without the computer, he was helpless. He wracked his brain, trying to think of alternatives. Maybe he should try to overpower Nikolai before the other guy showed up? Sadly, Ben knew all too well that he had never been able to disable anyone in training—he usually wound up pulling a muscle or hurting his wrist. So he assigned a low probability of success to this option. Maybe he should make a run for it. The guy didn’t appear to be armed, although he didn’t know what was in the man’s pocket. Orderlies don’t usually carry guns, do they? This option also had a low probability of success, as Ben couldn’t outrun many people.

  “Who are you and what you doing here?” Nikolai said in a menacing tone, interrupting any further vector analysis of the current predicament.

  “I told you,” Ben replied. “My name’s Tony Jones and I’m an Elizabethtown college premed student doing my senior elective at Swatara Regional.”

  “Yeah, sure. And I am Saint Nick. What you looking for on computer? Who sent you?” Nikolai’s eyes bored into him and sent a shiver down his spine. Ben didn’t answer, which seemed to anger the man. In one quick, fluid motion, Nikolai pulled a nasty-looking gizmo out of his pocket and flicked his wrist. With a loud, metallic pfft the gizmo came to life, exposing a fearful, serrated blade. He waved it a bit, carving the air in front of Ben for effect.

  For the first time, real fear shot through Ben. The switchblade crystallized his thoughts—this was no Medicare billing fraud. He had indeed stumbled onto something big. What he saw on that computer needed to get out. It got worse, though. Whoever planned something like this wouldn’t buy his feeble excuse and let him walk out of here.

  “I can make you talk,” Nikolai said with a cruel smile.

  Shit, this thing’s going down badly and I’ve got to do something. Ben’s fear amped up exponentially. This wasn’t the cool, adrenaline rush of encountering lots of high-level creatures in Oblivion who were resistant to your magic spells and would likely kill you. This was a sickening, helpless feeling that made his insides feel all squishy and out of control. He felt like he might vomit and have diarrhea at the same time.

  “I’ll explain everything when your friend gets here,” Ben said in as even a tone as he could muster, hoping to calm down Nikolai and buy himself a little time.

  Nikolai just grunted.

  Ben looked around the room and spied a folded up newspaper in one of the trashcans nearby. He could just make out the outline of a large Sudoku puzzle. A crazy idea blazed across his brain. His eyes returned to the knife. “So, what do we do now?” he asked.

  “We wait.”

  “Do you mind if I do that Sudoku puzzle over there?” Benjamin pointed a quivering finger at the trashcan. Nikolai gazed at the trashcan and managed to look befuddled and irritated at the same time. “They help me relax,” Ben added.

  Finally Nikolai, who seemed to be preoccupied with thoughts of his own, nodded his assent. Ben retrieved the paper, thought for a couple of moments, then started scribbling numbers in the puzzle grid. Crude, he thought, but the best he could come up with under the circumstances.

  Before he could write any more, the door opened and a man walked in. Ben recognized him as one of the anesthesia doctors from the hospital, but couldn’t recall his name. He stared at Ben, sending a chill down Ben’s spine. “So, this is the bugger who’s playing with our computer. You’re right, Nikolai. He doesn’t look like a Fed, but looks can be deceiving.”

  He walked over to Ben. “What’s this?” he demanded as he snatched the newspaper from Ben’s hands. He studied it for a moment, his forehead creased in thought. “What the hell?” He shook his head and tossed it on the desktop.

  The doctor turned Ben’s chair toward him and leaned down, resting his hands on the arms of the chair so that his face was just inches from Ben’s. He enunciated each word in a very serious tone, “Okay son, who are you and what are you doing here?”

  “I’m Tony Jones,” Ben said, “and I was trying to hack into your billing computer and zero out my bill.” If he could just get them to turn the computer back on… “Look, I’ll show you.” Ben made a move toward the computer.

  Nikolai grabbed both of his shoulders and pinned Ben back in his chair.

  Doc stood up. “It’s okay, Nikolai.” His tone had softened. “I’ll turn the computer on.”

  A surge of hope shot through Ben—perhaps he was buying the bogus bill story. Ben knew he could fake his way through this bill thing and secretly trigger the alarm in the process, if he could just get his hands on the computer. He held his breath as he watched Doc bend down and plug the computer and monitor back in. But Ben noted with horror that Doc didn’t plug the cable modem back in. Shit, he’s smarter than I thought. Ben knew that Soft Partner would regard loss of power as a Priority, Level 2 Caution and this would generate a warning message to the Bureau. However, with no connection to the outside world, the message would not be sent.

  Doc powered up the computer, and Ben’s heart sank even further. Damn it! He had left his flash drive plugged into the USB port on the keyboard—in plain view. It was supposed to be safely tucked away in his pocket.

  Doc motioned to Ben. “Okay, Tony,” he said, “why don’t you show us that bill you’re talking about.”

  Ben turned and reached for the keyboard and mouse, his hands shaking. With his right hand on the mouse, he opened the bill ledger and began scrolling through the outstanding bills. With his left hand, he casually picked up the Ethernet cable and got ready to plug the cable modem back in. Before he could complete this task, Doc slapped him hard across the face, driving him back into his chair.

  “Hold on! What’s this?” Doc yelled, pointing to the flash drive. “Hold him, Nikolai!”

  As Nikolai’s hands dug into Ben’s shoulders again, Doc pulled up another chair and sat down at the computer. First he began to search the contents of the flash drive. Without taking his eyes off the screen, Doc said, “You don’t want to fuck with me, boy!”

  Ben knew the flash drive would register as empty—SoftPartner would never allow itself to be captured that easily. Ben’s heart sank again. Doc was now initializing the computer, no doubt in preparation to perform a clean hard drive wipe, thereby erasing all contents of the computer. Shit, this guy knows his computers. But Ben knew that SoftPartner would most likely survive this maneuver anyway, having a 95% survival quotient depending on the sophistication of the wiping program Doc employed.

  Doc plucked the flash drive out of the USB port and studied it carefully. Finally, he stuffed it in his pocket. He picked up the newspaper and re-examined it. “I don’t like this.” He shook his head. “I don’t like it one bit.” He thrust the newspaper at Nikolai and said, “Get rid of this.” The Russian tucked the paper in his back pocket. Doc thought for a moment longer, then appeared to have made a decision. “I think we all need to go for a little walk. There are some things I want to show our young friend here, at the hospital.”

  Ben didn’t
like the sound of this and remained in his seat. “Look,” he said, “I’m really sorry about sneaking into your office and using your com—” Before Ben could finish his sentence, Nikolai grasped his arm and yanked him to his feet.

  The three headed for the door. Doc put his arm around Ben’s shoulder, helping to escort him out of the room.

  “Ow, you stuck me with something!” Ben cried out in surprise. He strained to turn his head far enough to see and managed to glimpse a little syringe in Doc’s hand. “What did you do?” Ben shrieked. God, not drugs—please, not drugs. He tried to wriggle free but the two bigger men gripped him tightly.

  “Just a little sedative, Tony—or whatever your real name is,” Doc said. “Actually, Tony, you look a little peaked—maybe the flu, or maybe appendicitis is sneaking up on you.”

  “Good thing we are going to hospital,” Nikolai added.

  With growing horror, Ben felt increasingly weak and light-headed—the effects of the drug were getting to him already. He knew time was running out. “Look, hold on here,” he said. “You’re right—my name isn’t Tony. I’m Special Agent Benjamin Harris of the FBI.”

  “You not look so special,” Nikolai mocked.

  “Agents are on their way right now,” Ben added, trying to sound authoritative.

  “We believe you, Ben,” Nikolai said, and sniggered.

  “Do they teach you guys to say that when you’re fucked?” Doc asked. “I mean, it seems like they always say that when it’s bogus. I’m just not buying it today, Benjamin. Sorry.” Doc opened the door. “I’ll go get a stretcher, Nikolai. You lock up.”

  Ben’s head spun. Waves of intense nausea swept through him. He sagged on his feet and would’ve hit the floor, were it not for Nikolai holding him up. Nikolai led him to the doorway, where he paused to toss the newspaper in the trashcan and turn off the lights. Then the orderly half-dragged Ben into the hallway and twisted to lock the door behind them. Doc was coming up the hallway, pushing a stretcher. Ben’s vision dimmed and began collapsing inward, like a tunnel. He wanted desperately to save the game here and replay this part—encounter with two drug-wielding hospital personnel—again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 5:45 A.M.

  Life just isn’t fair, thought Gwen as she swung her Chevy Tahoe into a parking space in front of the Medical Arts Building at Swatara Regional. It was still dark out—the sun wouldn’t be up for another hour. The parking lot was deserted. Gwen let out a big sigh as she shifted the transmission lever into park. What was the point of meeting the man of her dreams now, when he was already married? Not to mention, she was married too. How crazy was that? The only thing she did know for sure was that Rob was perfect for her. She realized that people who didn’t believe in love at first sight simply had never experienced it. She figured most people didn’t have a clue.

  Gwen turned off the ignition, set the parking brake, and allowed her hemmed-in thoughts to run free. She imagined Rob holding her tight and stroking her hair. His hands were large but so gentle, and he knew just where to touch her. He would place one hand on the small of her back as he pressed her to him and the other hand would lose itself deep within her hair and cradle her head as he kissed her. To have someone be so into her sent her over the top.

  She had never experienced the pleasure of a man so taken with her. She sighed again and checked her hair and makeup in the rearview mirror. Rob actually listened to her with undivided attention, seeming to hang on her every word. He said he marveled at her intelligence. This was new and exciting to her. He stared at her frequently—not in a freaky, stalker sort of way, but rather in a manner that radiated a mixture of love, desire, and admiration. And his eyes weren’t roving all over the place every time some hot chick walked by. He told her he thought she was beautiful, really beautiful.

  When he kissed her, she was in heaven. She had kissed many men throughout her dating days, before her husband came along. With most of them, it was so-so, take it or leave it. With some, like her husband, Jim, it was a physically pleasurable thing, like taking a hot shower or enjoying a nice meal. Or at least it used to be. But with Rob, it was much more than that—it was an emotional connection that transcended physical pleasure. She knew that sounded corny, bordering on an Oprah moment, and even though she had trouble describing it, she was very clear about one thing—she longed for more.

  She reflected on the state of her own sad marriage. It had died long before she had met Rob. Jim had seemed just right at first—they were high school sweethearts and got married soon after graduation. He had been big man on campus, varsity football and baseball; she had been a cheerleader. They looked good together—he was ruggedly handsome and she was attractive. Everyone said they made a great couple. She would even have sworn she had been in love—but the bottom line was, they got married way too young and then compounded the mistake by having kids immediately.

  Jim never wanted to waste time on college, preferring to bring home money right away working at his dad’s Chevy dealership. He figured he was in line to take over the business after his dad retired and this would be their meal ticket. Gwen put her goals to go to college on hold while she worked as a billing clerk for the anesthesia department. She also had two children, a boy and a girl, in rapid succession. She longed for a more fulfilling career and some adult interaction. She believed she was an intelligent, sensitive woman who was wasting her talents.

  Gwen checked her watch—6:00 a.m. Although the sun hadn’t shown any signs of stirring, the eastern sky began to glow expectantly. She checked her cell phone to see if she had missed any calls or messages. She was hoping Rob could make it out of the house and meet her for coffee before work. Although they might have only thirty or forty-five minutes together, it seemed well worth the effort. Gwen shivered in anticipation as she imagined kissing and embracing him. Even his scent drove her crazy.

  When the two kids were both in school, Jeff in kindergarten and Ashley in second grade, Gwen had taken some English courses at the local community college, HACC, and loved it. She dreamt of being an English teacher or perhaps a writer. Jim, of course, was very opposed to her going to school. He liked the control of having her stuck at home with the children and taking care of the household. But since Jim would leave early in the morning and work ten- or twelve-hour days at the dealership, he didn’t really have much of a say. Many times she would already have the kids in bed when he rolled in at eight or nine in the evening.

  Their relationship had actually unraveled quickly, but both were too young to realize it, much less do anything to safeguard the marriage. Jim seemed content to spend all his time at work. He would frequently go out with the other salesman at the dealership. He spoke of liquid lunches, and she knew it was a real good ol’ boy’s club. He got pretty familiar with some of the secretaries at the dealership and Gwen had had her doubts. But she was too busy holding down a job and trying to run everything at home to do much about it. In retrospect, she figured that Jim had traded the glory days of high school, where he was always popular, for the obscurity of the workplace. It was a lousy trade. He gravitated toward bad boy behavior, probably to reaffirm his masculinity.

  But, Gwen didn’t want any part of admitting to her family and friends that the perfect couple wasn’t so perfect. Or that they had goofed, gotten married way too young and brought two kids into the world only to face a broken home. These were painful admissions better left unspoken. So Gwen soldiered on, figuring this was what married life was all about—the dirty little secret of genteel American society. People just put on good fronts for everyone else, so no one would have to admit their failures.

  Gwen had always found solace in books, for which she had a great love, instilled in her by her father. Even though he worked as a mechanic, he loved to read. She recalled snuggling in his strong arms, feeling safe in his lap, hardly minding his scratchy chin as he read her bedtime stories. Although he frequently smelled of oil or grease, she wasn’t bothered by it; in
fact, she grew fond of these smells. Later on, as a teenager, she was especially drawn to love stories, preferring to lose herself in romantic fantasies and true love stories. She never actually believed they were anything other than stories—and she came to realize early on that characters in the world of make-believe generally enjoyed happier endings than people in real life.

  Gwen knew her marriage was officially dead when she discovered indisputable proof that Jim was cheating. He didn’t even bother to deny that the used condom she had found in the backseat of his car was his, but instead tried halfheartedly to put the blame on her. If she had done a better job of being a loving wife, he wouldn’t have had to look elsewhere. Or if she had taken better care of herself and looked better, he wouldn’t have been tempted. He had a ready-made excuse for everything.

  Why didn’t she just leave him? Gwen had asked herself this question a thousand times. Life was never black and white, though. She wanted to preserve the charade of an intact family for her kids as long as possible. Besides, Jim brought home a paycheck and kept a roof over their heads. And she wanted to get a college education so she had a prayer of supporting them. So she stood by her man.

  She glanced at her watch again—6:20. She had to be at work at 7:00, so she knew time was ticking away. C’mon, lover boy. Where are you? She debated calling Rob, but she knew this would be foolish. He would call her the minute he was rolling—she had come to see he was very reliable in these matters. Something must’ve come up.

  Gwen looked around the parking lot again and glanced over at the building. She was surprised to see the lights on in the billing office. She was usually the first one in to open up the place. A touch of fear passed through her. Did this have anything to do with her meeting Rob? Then she chuckled and forced herself to relax. This sneaking around stuff always made her a bit paranoid. Probably just the night cleaning crew.