by Scott Rhine
Groggily, Benny said, “Claudette, we agreed not to wake up till nine.”
“I have to get the shape out before I can do anything else,” she whimpered.
Benny nodded sympathetically. “I’ll arrange that if you make us breakfast and eat some yourself.”
When she left, still carrying the black permanent marker, Benny said to the others, “Normandy, take digital pictures of everything. I’ll call the programmers to come in on a Sunday morning. Tan, you call my pastor and let him know I won’t make services today; I don’t want to use the national security excuse.”
“This has happened to you before?” asked the agent.
Benny just groaned. Tan chuckled.
Over breakfast, Normandy told them the bad news about the explosion. “I called them, and they’re sending a uniform over to get the DNA.”
Benny wasn’t sure. “I’m okay sending out Crusader’s pouch, but I don’t know if Jez would want us sending Trina’s. That could cause complications.”
When he dialed his wife’s number to ask, there was no answer. Fortune didn’t answer either. He cursed. “I’d smash this useless phone in a heartbeat, but Jez gave it to me. I know I should be arranging funerals, but she always handled that sort of thing. I don’t know where to start. Where is she?”
From the stove, Claudette said, “Scroll down to the button that says assistants. They have an informal call-center now. The one on duty picks up and forwards specialized requests.”
Benny blinked. He scrolled down to the preprogrammed number on his phone and hit send.
“Adrien here. We were starting to worry. How can I help?”
“Hello, sorry to bother you on a Sunday morning.”
“Mr. Johnson?”
He ignored the slight. “Yes. I need to schedule two funerals.”
After he provided some details, Adrien told him, “Crusader had a copy of his will on file with the company. Since Ms. Johnson was the executrix, I can read it to find out what his wishes for the remains were and contact the family.”
“There was no family. You wouldn’t happen to know where my wife is right now, would you?”
There was tapping in the background. “I’ll check the bulletin board. She was scheduled to fly from Miami to New York City early this morning. She never checked in at her hotel.” More keyboard clicks followed. “I see from our log there was a related call from corporate security earlier. Let me call around and get back to you.”
****
By nine, Claudette and the three men were gathered in a huge, special-effects studio. Claudette was fitted with data gloves and virtual-reality goggles. Kyle said, “This rendering program isn’t elaborate. It’s based on the sculpting model we use for squashing and stretching animated characters. I adapted it some for the PBS galaxy animation. Tap your fingers together twice to create a start point. Drag with fingers closed to make a line. To rotate an object, select it using the tap method and twist with your other hand. We’ve loaded the shape from last night as a starting point.”
Claudette was already ignoring him to fix places where the clay had sagged or proportions were askew. The white wall behind her showed the rapidly developing model. Her only comment in the next half hour was, “Needs color-coding.”
“Drag your left pointer finger down for that menu.”
As she worked, Kyle gave Benny the latest technology updates. The actor took the red giant globe and located the new planet, zooming in on it with help from the technology team. He stared at the display until more FBI agents joined their ranks. Benny stuffed the globe in his pocket before the newcomers could see it.
When questioned, Normandy said, “Your cover story is that your space agency is a joint public-private venture. From what I’ve seen in one day, this is bigger than the Apollo launch. My boss agreed that watching this particular barn door before the horse gets out would be a good idea.”
Buddy had just drifted back to sleep on a chair near the mixing board when Elias Fortune knocked. The actor bit back his planned reply when he saw the man’s distraught face peering through the window. He walked over and let the man in on the theory that even moral slugs have feelings. “She’ll be fine as soon as she completes the model. I thought we agreed your being here was too dangerous.”
Fortune looked him directly in the eyes. “Things are happening. There’s a very good chance that none of us will survive past tomorrow. I had to see her again, to make peace before the end.”
Benny blew out and fell back into the chair. No one else was listening to them because Trina had just pushed Daniel into the main room. She was dressed in Daniel’s dress shirt and not much else. Doc Vader stood watch over the whole group.
“I wanted the whole family here for my announcement,” Fortune said.
“Family? You’re including Trina in that? Wow. Whatever this is must be hitting you hard.”
“I was hoping the lust from the page-bonding would have burned out by now, but he chose her over the inheritance from the parents who raised him. Even I can read that handwriting.”
“Have you watched them, seen them touch foreheads?” Benny asked. “I’d call it love.”
Eventually Fortune nodded, as if the word were ‘cancer’ instead. “I was hoping to spare him that.”
“It’s a cross he’s willing to bear. You’ll have to wait for Claudette to finish this model before you can make your announcement. She won’t hear a word you say until then, trust me.” Benny changed gears. “Speaking of crazy wives, I got you yours. Where’s mine?”
Fortune stared at Claudette’s shape for a while. “I don’t know. She disappeared last night during a gun battle in Miami. We’ve received no ransom demands. Crusader had all the pertinent data on his palm computer when he screwed the pooch. We’re reconstructing her steps now.”
“You said you had a minute-by-minute update on her position.”
“Crusader moved the satellite to follow Sedna. Ms. Johnson’s phone was stolen in Miami. I’ll let you know when…”
Benny picked the billionaire up and pinned him to the wall. “That’s Mrs. Hollis, and you’ll tell me now.”
Agent Normandy came in to watch, but didn’t interfere.
“The man who stole the phone said she was on the ground, bleeding.”
Benny dropped him and roared as he punched through drywall.
“You can use my jet. Tell her I spent all night rewriting the image-alignment code myself. I did all I could,” whispered the billionaire.
He had no idea what the man was babbling about and didn’t care. On his way out, Trina handed him a large purse. “Give this to Jez. It has a replacement phone, white deck shoes, toothbrush, underwear, and few other female essentials, including her butterfly pendant.”
“Thanks. She’ll appreciate your thoughtfulness. I’m sorry about your sister.”
“It was her choice,” said the blonde.
“That doesn’t make your second guessing any easier. I’ll keep you all updated. Don’t let the bastard wear you down.”
She smiled and said, “I’m cutting him some slack. I read Jez’s private files to see if they gave any clues as to where she might be. No luck.”
“Find anything good about yourself?”
Trina laughed. “She tells me everything, unfiltered. How do you think I knew the password? I did see some interesting speculations about Dirt Bag. From his low energy, the way the Doc keeps worrying over him, he probably just wants to make a few things right before dying.”
“Wow. I should stick around in case…”
She turned him around physically and started pushing him toward the door. “It’s painful just watching you. Go!”
Normandy followed him to the car, grinning. “I’ve wanted to do that from the moment I met the jerk. Why’d you miss?”
“It’s not his fault. The people to blame are already dead.”
As Daniel was busy with family business, Benny decided to take the swami and Jez’s hairbrush along for spotting
. When they got to the airstrip, the manager told him, “The corporate jet can’t fly back that soon and neither can the crew. It’s going to be another ten hours at least till we can have this bad boy ready for Miami.”
Frustrated, Benny pushed the magic assistant button on his phone again. This time, the faceless woman arranged tickets on the next commercial flight for him, Normandy, and Swami Rama. They raced over to the main terminal building. Unfortunately, during the security screening, the man from Kashmir showed up on the Federal no-fly list.
“It’s some kind of sick conspiracy,” Benny complained.
The swami was not concerned. “It will all work out the way it needs to. We cannot control others. All you are responsible for is yourself.”
Benny put in a requisition for another set of eyes, but he had to board his plane before anyone was able to phone him back.
****
That afternoon, Jez opened one eye. The room was all white and she was Velcroed to a bed. There was an IV in her arm dripping in nutrients. She had a brief flashback. “Tied up. Tunnel. Not my feet, not my feet.” The words sounded like she had a mouthful of mud, but the man in the white coat seemed to understand.
He was back-lit by a window, so she couldn’t see the details on his face. He had a wide, well-groomed beard, and the bottom half of a pair of glasses. He held a tablet computer in his hands. “I saw the damage to your foot. When you pass out in crack houses, rats sometimes take advantage.”
His voice reminded Jez of the actor Paul Giamatti, but the tone reminded her of past interrogations. She wasn’t sure whether the man was being coy or just ignorant. “Are you here to question me?”
“What’s your name?”
“Jezebel Johnson…uh…Hollis.”
“Which is it?” the man in the white coat demanded.
“I was born Jezebel Johnson, but I married Benny Hollis, the movie star.”
The man typed a search on his tablet. “I find no Jezebel Hollis.”
“We j…just got married yesterday…no, two days ago. There might not be any record yet because of the weekend.”
“The only Jezebel Johnson I show is on a Las Vegas driver’s license. Yes, the picture matches, but there is also an eviction notice for non-payment of rent at that address.”
“That was my fiancé’s sister, Olive. She hates me.”
“Olive Hollis?”
Jez twitched a little. “No. My other fiancé.”
“You seem confused,” he said. “Perhaps it’s the exciting life you lead. Where was Mr. Hollis during the drug shoot out?”
“At home in LA where I sent him. Look, I’m famous. Look me up on YouTube or something. I’m more popular than the Singing Hamster.”
The man tapped a few keys. “Not a trace.”
She started to explain about Crusader and Virus wiping out the evidence, but bit down on her lip. “You think I’m loony.”
“That’s not a DSM diagnosis, Miss…uh…do you have any other aliases?”
“I have a credit card under the name of J. Sorenson.”
He typed ‘fraud’ on the intake form. “What did you do for living in Las Vegas?”
“Cocktail waitress.”
“And what do you do now?”
“I run a think tank. I make six figures a year.”
He wrote ‘delusional’ under diagnosis. “You’re rich and famous. Have you ever been institutionalized before?”
“I’m an alcoholic,” she admitted.
“I see numerous needle marks on your arm. Would you like to add any other drugs to that list?”
“Why do you doctors always assume I’m using drugs you’re missing? The needle marks are from my tests. I have to have a lot of tests for my job,” she said groggily.
He wrote ‘liar’ on the pad. “Have you ever thought of suicide?”
“I wrote a note, but that was…” she began, omitting the part about being a secret agent.
He scribbled ‘suicidal’ on the pad as well. “Why did you attack the nurse?”
“I need to get out immediately. It’s a matter of life or death.”
“Whose?” he asked, appending the word ‘violent’ to the list.
“Everyone’s, the whole world’s.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to be here for a while, Miss Johnson, under observation. It’s for your own good. Whose ring is that, really? It’s an heirloom. Someone in your position couldn’t possibly afford something like that. Who did you steal it from, some poor old woman?”
“Rebecca gave it to us.”
“And whose blood’s on those slippers?”
“The guy who tried to kill that FBI agent.” He mutely added ‘wanted criminal’ to the bottom of his pad. “I demand my phone call!”
“The police will give you that when they process you. For now, you should cooperate. Insanity is probably your best defense.”
After the doctor left, it took her an hour to work her foot strap loose and another two minutes to toe open the hand strap. She was undoing the last two restraints when her empathy sensed the orderly coming. She put her hand and foot back into the loosened straps while the man wheeled the food cart in.
Food. She’d almost forgotten. He fed her oatmeal and eggs with a spoon, and juice through a straw. At one point, she coughed and splattered oatmeal all over. While he was bent over, she picked the cell phone out of his pocket.
He didn’t bother to feed her the rest, but wheeled his cart out cursing the extra work.
She phoned Benny’s cell from memory and got his recording. She left an urgent message, “I’m being held against my will at a hospital in the Miami area. The doctor may be a Fossil agent. I love you. I’m going to try to escape. If they catch me, I’m going deep theta.”
The door opened. Lydia came in saying, “What’s this I hear…?”
“Get to Cape Kennedy. Protect your Quarter…”
“Orderly!” The nurse snatched the phone away from her, closing it. To Jez she said, “What favors did you perform on Tyrone to get this?”
“None. I…”
“Then it’s theft. You have no respect for this institution, and I’m sure no insurance or job. Forget about rehab, with what the doctor found, we’re sending you to jail. Let them foot the bill for drying you out.”
Jez’s eyes were already rolled back in her head.
Chapter 49 – Every Cooperation
The aide rode with PJ and Amy in the limousine to a cement, helicopter pad. He told them, “The FBI is uneasy about the Cape Kennedy stand-off. Ms. Reese says you may know the people involved in the incident. The gunman is holding several federal employees hostage in a large area without windows. They can’t cut power. The satellite and ground-station recon feeds to the whole space program have been disrupted, and a lot of intelligence folks are getting itchy trigger fingers. This is going to end bloody unless someone can talk that guy out. We’ve told the agent in charge that you might be the right person.”
Then he dropped the other shoe. “The gunman had an accomplice who electrocuted himself while taking out NASA’s eyes.”
PJ was speechless for a minute. The gunman had to be Joe, but Wilkes knew nothing about electronics. What had possessed him to try that kind of sabotage? Things weren’t making sense.
The aide refused to go with them in the helicopter. “It’s a machine designed to test whether you’ll throw up or go deaf first. The Army loses two a year just training in them, usually cracked rotors.”
“He’s exaggerating,” Amy said, opening her door. “It’s not much different than driving with me in San Francisco.”
The aide responded, “However, this is the only way you’ll catch that plane on time. We’ll take care of your rental car.”
Having no real choice, PJ followed Amy. The view on the ride was great, but he kept a ninja death-grip on his seat the whole way.
When he disembarked, weak-kneed, at the airport, she asked, “How was it?”
“I’m never going to San Franc
isco,” PJ replied.
His expression didn’t change until they were twenty minutes away on the commuter jet and he could hold a cold can of soda against his forehead.
Amy was reading the newspaper.
“I don’t know why you bother,” PJ groused. “It could be a paper from a hundred other days. Some evangelist got caught embezzling, and the Chinese are conducting some kind of military exercises near Taiwan again, sending mortgage rates skyrocketing…”
“What’s wrong?” Amy asked.
He stared out Amy’s window at the clouds. “Wilkes might have unplugged a few monitors before the launch but there was no reason for him to do it afterward. His death was awfully coincidental, just like Clarence’s suicide.”
“Murder?”
“The killer would be somebody else with scientific access to the project. We need a list of the people who worked on it.”
“All conveniently classified,” Amy laughed. “Nick might have been able to give us a list, but government agents are the last people he wants to talk to right now.”
After brooding for a few more minutes, PJ went back to his original gripe. “It still doesn’t make sense. The only reason to blind NASA is so they won’t see a launch, and Brazil’s already took place.” The tumblers of the safe clicked into place, and the puzzle opened. He glanced at his watch.
“We should land in less than an hour. Want to do a crossword?” she asked.
PJ scanned the seat backs for air phones but found none. “No time. Can the pilot radio ground control for us?”
“Not without a darn good reason. Why?” she said.
“Quan and his team are pretty much the only people who can still stop the disaster. Where would our astronauts be now if everything went according to plan?”
“On the International Space Station. Crupkin and the ground team are struggling desperately to install new software to aim the three telescopes and guide the thrusters. Quan went along to command the shuttle mission.”
