by John Locke
“Let’s hear it.”
“The guy we had tailing Kimberly last year? Jimmy T.?”
“What about him?”
“He’s dead.”
I pause to let the news sink in. “What happened?”
“He moved to South Carolina, changed his name, got a teaching job at Viceroy College.”
“What was his new name?”
“Jonah Toth.”
“What happened, heart attack?”
“He was murdered.”
“Where?”
“In the men’s room. At the college.”
“When?”
“That’s the weird part. This happened a week ago today.”
“Did they get the guy who did it?”
“No leads. No one knows anything. He taught his class, walked across the hall to use the bathroom, got shot standing at the urinal.
“And this happened a week ago.”
“A week ago exactly.”
“Could he have been on drugs? Fooling around on his wife? Anything like that?”
“Are you asking if he got caught with his dick out?”
“Good one. Since you brought it up, did the report specify?”
“It did. Care to bet?”
“Fifty bucks says it was out.”
“Is that your bet?”
“It is.”
“I’ll pay you next time I see you.”
“All jokes aside,” I say. “Was he doing something wrong?”
“He was clean and faithful a year ago,” Lou says. “But people can change.”
“Can you get me someone else to keep an eye on Kimberly? I want to make sure she’s safe.”
“I’ll work on it.”
When I enter the consultation room a few minutes later, I’m holding a syringe in my hand.
“How about it George? Got a solution to my problem yet?”
38.
“UIC,”George says.
“What’s that?”
“A possible solution for your problem.”
“Tell me.”
“UIC, the University of Illinois at Chicago, has the strongest Magnetic Resonance Imaging Machine in the world. It’s got a 45 ton magnet that generates a 9.4 Tesla magnetic field!”
“Pretend I’m not as smart as you and tell me why that’s a big deal.”
“Most MRI machines generate 3 Tesla.”
“Talk to me, George. I have no idea what you’re saying.”
“If you can arrange to be scanned by that particular machine for at least twenty minutes, the magnetic field it generates should be powerful enough to erase the data imbedded in the chip.”
“ Should be able to?”
“There are no guarantees, of course, but yes. I’m virtually certain.”
“If the machine is that special, there’s probably a long waiting list to use it.”
“I’m sure. Do you have any government connections?”
I do. My boss, Darwin, could get me in there in minutes. Unfortunately, he’s the one who ordered the chip placed in my brain.
“No,” I say.
“Then you’d have to wait awhile. But you can’t.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because Boris is going to kill my family.”
“You seem like an honest man,” I say.
“Thanks.”
“You’re asking me to sacrifice my life. Would you sacrifice your life to save my family?”
He pauses. “ Your family? No. Your family and thousands of others? Yes, absolutely.”
“How about your family?”
“Of course.”
“I believe you.”
I press the syringe into his neck. As he starts to die, I say, “You’re a good man. I’ll make sure your family is safe. You have my word.”
I didn’t want to kill George, but it was the smart play. Now that he’s dead, Boris has nothing to gain by killing George’s family. The Las Vegas terror cell will think Boris killed George, which will help appease them. I can de-magnetize the chip and kill the terrorists, and live to kill more of them. It’s not that I’m unwilling to sacrifice myself, I just think I’m more valuable alive than dead.
As I head for the tool box to remove the staplers from the table, I realize I’ve got another problem. Who do I trust to hold the ceramic device while I’m getting the MRI? I can’t take the device in there with me, for fear the magnet will destroy its imprint. Without that, I wouldn’t be able to detonate the chips.
I stop to think who I trust enough to safeguard the device for twenty minutes.
Callie could do it, but can I trust her not to press the button four times while I’m in the imaging room? Until a few weeks ago I would’ve trusted her completely. But she’s made comments recently that make me wonder. I seriously doubt she’d kill me while I’m on the table. Then again, she might.
I could certainly trust Kimberly, if she’ll take my call.
I open my cell phone and try.
No answer.
I leave a message: “Kimberly, please call me when you get this message. Anytime before nine a.m. tomorrow morning, eastern time.”
If I can get an appointment tomorrow I’ll fly Kimberly to Chicago by private jet. She can hold the device for twenty minutes and maybe spend a day or two with me. Maybe we can patch things up between us.
What if she doesn’t call back? Who then?
Not Lou Kelly. He tried to kill me once already.
Not Rachel, my girlfriend. She’s living in an underground bunker, having her eggs harvested by the government. Plus, she’s homicidal.
Not Gwen. She tried to kill me today.
Not Janet, the ex-wife. She’d love to see me dead.
Not Darwin, my boss. He wants the chip active so he can kill me whenever it suits him.
What about…Beth?
Beth Daniels owns The Seaside, a quaint little bed and breakfast in St. Alban’s Beach, Florida. She and I never hooked up in the classic sense, but there was some serious chemistry between us during the short time Rachel and I worked for her. We sort of left things in limbo, and I never called her back, figuring she’s better off without me. She’s the right woman for me, but I’m all wrong for her, which is why I can’t ask her to fly to Chicago to safeguard a chip for me.
I would certainly trust Kathleen Gray. Well, her last name isn’t Gray anymore, which is one of the two reasons I can’t ask her to safeguard the chip. The other is she thinks I’m dead. Kathleen’s a married woman now, living in New York, and it would completely disrupt her life if I suddenly appeared.
I trust two others: Miranda Rodriguez, and Nadine Crouch. Miranda’s my favorite hooker, and Nadine’s my former shrink.
It’s pitiful to admit the list of friends I can trust is shorter than the list of friends who’ve tried to kill me.
39.
If Kimberly calls me back, she’s my first choice. If not, I’ll try Miranda. Why Miranda over Nadine? She’s non-judgmental, she’s beautiful, and she’d love to fly to Chicago to spend a couple of romantic days with me. For a fee. Assuming another client hasn’t booked her yet, and that she’s not busy with a project at NYU, where she’s working toward her Master’s in Counseling Psychology.
I decide to call Miranda, to put her in the on-deck position in case Kimberly fails to call. When her voice mail comes on, I leave a message. When I hang up, it dawns on me I left her and Kimberly the same message. It also registers I have three women in my life who are twenty years old. One’s my daughter, one’s my lover, and the third is Gwen, who tried to have me killed today, after having sex.
I know what you’re thinking. I need to get involved with a nice woman my own age, right? Problem is, I don’t know any hookers my age.
It’s possible neither Kimberly nor Miranda will call me back. And I don’t want to fly to Cincinnati to drop the device off with Nadine. It would be in her care for hours instead of minutes. It would make more sense to hire four security guards in Chicago and have them accom
pany me to UIC. I’d put the device in a locker outside the MRI room and hire one to stand in front of it and the other three to watch him!
Then I realize I don’t even have an appointment.
Since I can’t trust Darwin, and Dr. Petrovsky’s a plastic surgeon, I can only think of one doctor who might be able to get me in.
Dr. Howard.
I dial his number.
“Damn it, Creed! Why is it you never call me during business hours?”
“Because you never take my calls during the day.”
“That’s bullshit. What do you want?”
“I need an MRI appointment this afternoon at UIC.”
“Why?”
I tell him. Turns out he’s heard about their jumbo MRI machine.
“Why do you need a scan?”
I tell him that, too.
“I don’t have that kind of pull,” he says.
“Listen up, Doc. You’re the one that put the chip in my head. Then you charged me a hundred million dollars-a hundred million dollars!-for the code to deactivate it, and then you tell me I’m still at risk. You owe me.”
“I do owe you. But I don’t know how you expect me to get you in. Or what I’m supposed to tell them.”
“You’re going to tell them it’s a national emergency, that I’m an agent with homeland security and I’ve got a chip in my brain and you need to know if it can be surgically removed. While I’m getting the scan, the magnet should erase the imbedded messaging.”
He sighs.
“What’s magic about this afternoon?”
“What if I told you I have a chance to kill dozens of terrorists all over the world if I can get this chip deactivated?”
“I’d tell you to call Darwin.”
“I can’t. He’s the one that made you implant the chip. He’d never allow it to be erased.”
“Darwin’s a lot of things, and many of them are vile. But first and foremost he’s a patriot. I bet he’d allow it, if you can convince him there’s a connection between erasing the chip and killing a bunch of terrorists.”
“I can’t trust him. But I’ll trust you. I’ve uncovered an arms deal. Two hundred chips have been distributed to terror cells all over the world. At least one of them is in Las Vegas, and I’m certain there are many more in the U.S. If I can de-magnetize the chip in my head, I’ll be free to reprogram the chip codes and blow them all up at the same time, all over the world. I’m betting dozens of terrorists have the chips in their possession. When I reset the code, they’ll blow up.”
“And you have a way of resetting the code? Some sort of device?”
“I’ve said all I’m going to say.”
“You need to de-magnetize the chip because when you reset the codes and detonate the chips, the chip in your head will also be activated.”
“That’s right.”
“If you don’t get the scan, you’re not willing to blow up the other chips.”
“Would you?”
“No.”
“Then get me the appointment.”
“I’ll try. But I don’t see the urgency about having this done this afternoon.”
“The terror cell in Vegas sewed a chip into an illegal alien’s mouth yesterday, and blew her head off trying to determine how powerful the explosion would be. Every passing day increases the possibility of a terrorist attack. Thousands of lives are at stake.”
“How big a danger are these chips?”
“What do you mean?”
“It seems like the charge would only be powerful enough to kill the person holding it, and possibly a few others.”
“You can bet they won’t use the chips that way.”
“Then how?”
“I expect they’ll set plastique in key places and use the chips as detonators, like blasting caps.”
“But if you can blow them up while they’re holding them-”
“Exactly.”
“So what’s this device that can be used to reprogram the chips?”
“That’s not something you need to worry about.”
“The reason I’m asking, you won’t be able to have it anywhere near the imaging room, correct?”
“That’s right.”
Doc Howard pauses. Then says, “I’ll do what I can.”
40.
Present Day… Maybe Taylor.
Maybe screams out in pain, instinctively moves her hand to her crotch, realizes she’s still wearing her jeans. Opens her eyes. Her head’s in a fog. “What time is it?”
“Two a.m.,” Sam says.
“What did you do to me just now?”
“Nothing. You were dreaming.”
“What’s happened?”
“I came to your place at seven last night. The first thing you said was you hoped I’d be better looking.”
Maybe yawns. “That’s true. And you said I was good looking enough for both of us.”
“Right. Then I took you to dinner.”
“Then we went to a hotel.”
“We’re still at the hotel.”
“Why’s it so dark in here?”
“It’s the middle of the night. What else do you remember?”
“I remember telling you there would be no sex.”
“That was three hours ago.”
“Then what happened?”
“We had a drink, and I gave you something to help you relax.”
“You didn’t try to fuck me, did you?”
“No.”
“Good,” Maybe says.
“Why’s that good?”
“Because you’re too old for me. And creepy.”
“That’s just a first impression.”
“What time is it?” she says.
“Three-thirty.”
“I thought you said two.”
“That was ninety minutes ago.”
“Are we still in the hotel room?”
“Yes.”
The next time Maybe opens her eyes the lights are on. “Sam?”
“I’m right here, beside you. It’s 4:12.”
She’s lying down on a bed. Her head is still fuzzy, but something feels strange “down there.” What’s strange is she feels numb. She props herself up on her elbows, sees she’s naked from the waist down. A dildo is protruding from between her legs.
“What the fuck?”
“Surprise!” Sam says.
She launches a fist toward his face and nearly breaks his nose.
He yelps, but moves in closer and says, “Hit me as much as you want, as hard as you want, for as long as you want. My only wish is for you to be happy.”
She slaps his face. Looks at him, says, “What’s the matter with you?” Then slaps him again.
“I want you to have a normal life, free of pain.”
She slaps him again. “You bastard! You had no right to touch me!”
He removes the pillow case from a pillow, dabs the blood from his nose and corner of his mouth, looks at it, dabs again. Then says, “Slap me if you want, but realize for the first time in more than a year, you’re not in pain.”
Maybe raises her arm to hit him again, then stops. Looks down. The dildo isn’t as large as the giant purple one Dr. Scott had on his tray, but it’s larger than any of the three young men who’ve spent time inside her. She reaches down and slides it out, noting the complete lack of pain. She briefly touches herself where the dildo had been, wonders if she’s dreaming. Then realizes if she’s not dreaming, she’s naked in real life! She pulls a sheet over herself, and goes back to sleep.
41.
4:15 a.m., Pacific Daylight Time. Donovan Creed.
I don’t require a nice bed or fancy sheets. While at PhySpa, I grab a pillow from the lobby couch, toss it on one of the office floors, and lay my head wherever it lands. No sheets, no bed, no problem. I put my cell phone charger wherever there’s a nearby outlet, and find something made of wood or plastic to set it on so the vibration will make a rattling sound when someone calls.
Like i
t’s doing right now.
As I reach for it, I play a three-second game of trying to decide who’s calling at 7:15 a.m., Eastern Time. My guess is Miranda. She probably just got in from a “date” and found the message light on. I can picture her exhausted, trying to force a happy voice for my benefit.
I’m wrong. It’s Doc Howard.
“Five-forty this afternoon,” he says, “Central time. It’s the best I can do.”
“How on earth?”
“I won’t begin to tell you how much trouble I went through to make this happen. Let’s just say you owe me.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
“Get there thirty minutes early, to check in.”
“You got an address?”
“No!”
He hangs up.
Thanks to Doc Howard, I’ve got an appointment. But I’m still left with the problem of finding someone to safeguard the device while I’m in the imaging room. While I generally trust Doc Howard, he might feel compelled to tell Darwin my plans, since they involve the unauthorized killing of terrorists. He also might tell in order to cover his ass. Doc Howard planted the chip under Darwin’s orders, so it makes sense he’d tell Darwin I asked him to set an appointment to have the chip erased.
I think a minute. Would he tell Darwin before or after making the appointment?
Before.
Not saying he told Darwin anything, but if he did, he would’ve told him I know about the chip, and that I’m planning to have it erased. If Darwin told him to set the appointment, he might have decided this is his last, best chance to kill me, since he knows exactly where I’ll be at five-forty. Worse, I’ll be vulnerable for at least twenty minutes while I’m being scanned in the imaging room. From five-forty to six p.m. I’ll be unarmed, completely immobilized, on my back, with my head in the machine.
I’ll be as helpless as Curly, after Moe and Larry stick his head in a vice.
I press the button to call Jeff Tuck.
“You asleep?”
“I was dreaming of tea and crumpets with the Queen.”
“Is Joe with you?”
“He’s on the desk.” Meaning he’s watching the bank of TV monitors to ensure nobody’s sneaking up on us.
“I’ll meet you there.”
“Do I have time to piss?”
