MIND FIELDS Page 29

  “Everything OK?” he asked as he glanced out the window.

  The driver didn’t answer. Richie looked out the left rear window at the car next to them. The man in the back of the black Lincoln looked over at him and held up a small object that looked like a TV remote control. He lifted his right index finger and smiled. He pointed at Richie, and then down toward the little box. Just before he pressed a button, Richie recognized the face from the BNI files he had reviewed. It was tough to be sure through the car window, but he could swear that it was Sean Lightbourne grinning at him through the back window of the Lincoln.

  “No!” he shouted. “Driver!” he frantically looked up toward the front seat. The driver, looking out the windshield with his head tilted slightly toward the right, continued to ignore him. The car jolted forward through the red light into the crossing rush hour traffic. The last thing that Richie remembered seeing was a large scar on the right side of the driver’s head.

  ___

  Two days later —

  “Jesus,” Paul said as he answered the door to his Poe Towers apartment. “Are you nuts? What are you doing here?”

  It was already dark outside, but Sandi was wearing dark glasses and a red floppy hat, trying to conceal her face as much as possible. “Trying to get into your apartment,” she said. “Do you think we could take this conversation inside?” She glanced over her shoulder as one of the elevator doors opened down the hall.

  It caught Paul’s attention too, and he reached out to put an arm around Sandi’s shoulder, pulling her in. “Of course, of course. Come on in.” She walked inside, and Paul poked his head out once more, looking right and then left down the hall before closing the door. “Let me take your coat.”

  “In a couple of minutes, when the chill wears off,” she said.

  “Please,” Paul motioned toward the living room couch.

  “Wow,” Sandi said, looking around the penthouse apartment. “Nice place.”

  “Yeah, well, the private sector does have its advantages. I can’t argue with the salary at BNI.”

  “Yeah, but look what you have to do to earn it.”

  “Can’t argue with that either,” he said, hanging his head. “You were right about that.”

  “Uh uh.” She shook her head. “I was talking philosophical differences. Nobody should have to expect to fall into the rattrap you’ve fallen into. You’re not like them, Paul. I know that.”

  “I should have seen it coming. I should have been able to tell that something...”

  “Give it a rest. These guys are professionals; it’s what they do.”

  “I guess your right, but still...” Paul plopped down next to her on the sofa. “So what are you doing here anyway? It’s much too dangerous. Didn’t you hear what happened to Kincade?”

  “Ah, so you don’t think it was an accident either. That’s what I’m doing here. Kincade put his life on the line for me, for you. We’ve got to do something to help him.”

  “Look, he’s getting the best care money can buy. The best thing you can do for him is to stay out of sight. The last thing he needs is to wake up and start worrying about you.”

  “Where’s he at?”

  “He’s over at Harborview. It’s the best hospital in the city. Word is, he’s doing OK.”

  “Word is? You mean you haven’t even gone to visit?”

  “The only thing he needs less than seeing you at the hospital is seeing me. The only chance we’ve got to get any hard evidence against these guys is if I can dig up something at BNI. I figure if I lay low until things blow over, maybe they’ll let their guard down a little. But if the NSA ties me to Kincade, they’ll be on me like white on rice. I’ll never have a shot at getting out of BNI with anything.”

  “Probably not even your life.” She had to agree.

  “Look, San, I’ll keep an eye on him somehow, but you’ve got to get out of here. If someone were to recognize you...”

  Sandi reached out and took his hand. She knew how hard it was for him to ask her to leave. “How about I go in the morning,” she said as she looked deeply into his eyes.

  “Nighttime would be safer,” he said, squeezing her hand gently. He couldn’t believe he was asking her to leave.

  “It’ll still be dark in a few hours,” she said, rising from the sofa and pulling Paul up by the arm.

  They kissed, and she felt more at home in his embrace than she had ever felt before. Her hand slipped down his arm and found its way into his; hand in hand they walked to the bedroom. Paul dimmed the lights as they entered.

  ___

  “I don’t want to go, Paul,” Sandi said, waking from a light sleep. She glanced at the clock; it was two AM.

  “Believe me, I don’t want you to go either, but I want to know that this will be here for us for the rest of our lives. If you stay, I may lose you forever.”

  “I want my life back, Paul.”

  “I want our life back. Look, I’ve been thinking about this every waking moment. If the NSA finds out you’re alive, they aren’t going to be too happy about having you around, knowing what you know. If you try to go to the press, you’re going to have a hard time convincing them that Guy did anything more than get drunk and drive off a slippery bridge on a dark, rainy night. You’re likely to disappear long before any story gets run. We still don’t have any hard evidence against them, and the only way we are going to get our lives back is if I get some. If I do and we go public with it, they can’t touch us; it’d be too obvious.”

  “So what then,” Sandi asked. “You can’t just waltz in there and ask for a copy of the killer nanobot files.”

  “I don’t know,” Paul said. I’ll dig around at BNI until I come up with something.”

  “Are you nuts?” Sandi said. “You know what these people are like. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

  “What the hell,” he shrugged. “I’m tired of living without you anyway, San. I’m not going to lose you again”

  Her eyes swelled with tears. “God, Paul. These are not amateurs. They will kill you.”

  “Yeah, probably, but only if they catch me,” he feigned a smile. “Look, if I can’t do this thing, if I can’t find something that will keep them away from you, then I don’t really care what happens to me.”

  “But I do. I do care.”

  ___

  “So, you’ve finally decided to rejoin us.” The voice was ghost-like.

  Richard Kincade tried to focus on the face in front of him as he squinted against the bright, thick haze. “Where am I?” he asked the ghost.

  “Honey, you’re in Harborview Hospital. I’m your nurse, Loolie,” she said in her lilting Jamaican accent. “You were in one hell of a crack-up last week.”

  “Last week? How long have I been here?” His mind was still clouded, but his vision began to clear.

  The nurse in front of him was a heavy-set Jamaican woman, neatly dressed and wearing latex gloves. She reached forward and smoothed the bandage on the right side of his head.

  “Ouch!” he reached up to feel the bandage. “How bad?” he asked.

  “Real bad. You were lucky, though. Not one broken bone except for that little crack in your head, and that was hardly anything to brag about. You’re wife says it was that thick skull of yours that saved you.”

  “Lara? Is she here?”

  “She’s been here all week; hasn’t left your side except when I come in to change that dressing. I sent her for some lunch. She’ll be back in a minute.”

  The nurse prepared a syringe and walked around the bed to the IV line.

  “What’s that?”

  “A miracle in a bottle. That’s what I call it, anyway. See,” she said as she injected the liquid into the IV line, “you’re getting this
new treatment for that bash on the head you got. It’s a brand new therapy using tiny little robots that go inside your brain to repair any damage from the injury.”

  “God, no,” he said, bolting up in bed. “Ah,” he grabbed his head to support it against the throbbing pain.

  “Whoa now, honey,” Loolie said, gently pushing him back down. “The miracle doesn’t work that fast. You’ve got to rest and let the treatment do its work. Here, this will help,” she said as she injected a second syringe into the IV. “It’s a mild sedative; it’ll help calm your nerves.”

  “But…no, don’t let me fall asleep again.” His thoughts were foggy; he desperately tried to remember what Sandi had told him about the nanobots…Phase Three bots…something about Phase Three bots… “I need to make sure they don’t give me the Phase Three bots. Don’t let them give me Phase Three bots,” he muttered.

  “Phase Three?” she said, shaking her head. “That mind of yours is playing tricks on you, Mr. Kincade. There’s only two shots, the one you got last week when you came in through the E.R. and the one I just gave you now.”

  “But…” His thoughts were clouded in a half-dream state. It didn’t make any sense to him, but he could feel the fear welling up inside.

  “Look,” the nurse said, pushing the play button on the videodisc player under the TV. “This will explain it all.”

  The TV screen lit up with the bright blue logo of BNI.

  “My God,” Richie muttered as he began to remember. He tried to sit up again, but the sedative Loolie had given him began to take effect. He fell back against the pillow and was sound asleep when Lara came in.

  “How’s he doing,” she asked.

  “He woke up for a minute, but he was pretty restless. I gave him something to help him rest. He’s going to be fine, ma’am.” She smiled and walked out the door.

  Lara sat next to Richie and held his hand, watching the video explaining the miraculous little robots that were working to repair her husband’s brain.

  ___

  Sandi sat in the waiting area staring out the window at the British Air jumbo jet being prepped at the gate. On the way to the airport, Paul had taken her by a studio run by Donny Austin, an acquaintance who prided himself in making false ID cards. Paul had often heard him brag at parties, but never thought he’d be glad to have this low-life as a friend. “I guess every profession has its place,” he had said to Sandi as they walked in. They each had a false driver’s license made, and Paul gave Sandi his emergency supply of cash before dropping her off at the airport.

  “I’ll meet you at the Kensington Gate Hotel as soon as I can,” was the last thing he had said to her before he drove off.

  “Last call for British Air Flight 6897 to London,” came the announcement.

  Sandi grabbed her bag and boarded the plane, wondering if she would ever see Paul again.

  Chapter twenty six

  Jack Tarrington had the most boring job in Baltimore, and he loved it. For the past year and a half, Jack had worked the early morning weekend shift as a security guard at the main gate for BNI. The guardhouse was small, but comfortable. It was a great place to kick back and read a book. He could usually count on one hand the number of cars that passed through the gait on a Sunday morning, with a couple of fingers left over, and the only one that ever rolled by on a regular basis was a beautiful emerald green Jaguar sportster driven by Dr. Paul Hingston. Jack loved that car; he even talked the doc into letting him take it for a spin around the lot once. Dr. Hingston was about the only BNI employee Jack knew other than his counterpart Harry Finch, the early morning weekend guard in the main building of BNI’s research facility.

  ___

  It was an overcast Sunday morning, a typical early fall day for the Baltimore-Washington area. The windshield wipers beat rhythmically against Paul’s Jag, fending off the light drizzle of a cool October morning. He had driven to work a hundred different ways over the years. The monotony of the drive from Baltimore to suburban Columbia was abated by the challenge of finding new routes, most of which were far more picturesque than the convenient highway that attracted rush hour drivers like flies to a lantern.

  The countryside of Howard County was beautiful, even on a rainy day. A layer of morning fog hung over the valleys that rolled between the gentle slopes of the Maryland hillsides, still rich with the greenery that mother nature would soon steal away with her harsh winter frosts. Paul made the turn into the BNI complex, almost disappointed that his commute was at an end. Jack Harrington waved to him as the Jag rolled by. Paul parked in the garage next to the employee entrance and swiped his ID card through the security lock. The door clicked open and he entered.

  As expected, the lab was empty. He’d been here by himself a hundred Sundays before, but with his senses heightened by an almost palpable tension, things looked a little different this time. He could swear he was being watched. Paul rubbed his palms against the sides of his pants legs, trying to keep them dry. Sean’s office was locked, but Paul’s card opened all the locks in the lab. He entered and pulled the desk chair out from under Sean’s workstation. The worn wheel bearings struggled against him, emitting a loud squeal that seemed to shoot right up his spine. He glanced around the room, even though he knew there was no one there to hear it. Slowly, he sat down and cautiously swiveled the chair back toward the monitor, bracing for another squeal, one that never came.

  Paul breathed a deep sigh of relief. “Well, here goes.”

  He booted up the computer and inserted a microdisc into the optical recording drive. Much to his relief, Sean had not changed any of the encryption codes. Paul’s fingers moved deftly across the keys; he enjoyed the feel of using a keyboard for data entry, and his years of practice had made him much more adept at it than most of his generation. He worked his way through the files until he came to the Phase Three Nanobot Program. Like before, he was not able to penetrate the individual files, but he was able to download the encrypted files to his disc. Even if the authorities were never able to crack the codes to get all of the information of the Phase Three Program, there would be plenty of evidence to tie Sean Lightbourne and BNI to the murders.

  ___

  Personnel at the BABS-5 facility had gotten over the death of Joey Carson. Tommy Philkern had returned with his friend’s body after the shooting. No one who knew the two men could have imagined that Tommy could have brought himself to shoot Joey under any circumstances, and had no reason to doubt his story that someone had apparently sneaked into their packs while they were out fishing and taken Tommy’s gun. The weapon was found in a wooded area not too far from where he was shot, with the fingerprints wiped clean.

  An exhaustive search yielded no other clues as to the identity or whereabouts of the shooter, and the investigation was suspended. Tommy had a hard time adjusting to the loss of his best friend, but he was a BABS soldier; he would deal with it.

  Trace McKnight was pleased with the work that was progressing at BABS-5. Not only was the work here advancing his research far faster than he would have been able to accomplish at BNI, but he was also creating a new generation of field soldier, one that would allow a field officer to truly orchestrate the actions of his troops.

  Trace was up early, still on east coast time, and looked out over the military complex, faintly lit by the light of the full moon.

  “Computer, log onto the Net and link with BNI.net.” He decided to catch up on his e-mail while he waited for the sun to rise.

  “Accessing... Link established.”

  He typed in his ID and password to access the BNI system.

  “Accessing... Unable to establish connection. User Sean Lightbourne is currently logged on.”

  “That’s not possible,” Trace said to the computer. I am Sean Lightbourne. Try again.”

  “Accessing... Unable to establish connection. User Sean Lightbo
urne is currently logged on.”

  “Where is Sean Lightbourne logged on?”

  “Sean Lightbourne is logged on at his BNI primary CPU.”

  “Shit. Computer, place call to JT Anderson, 7-420-555-5989.”

  The computer dialed the number. “That line is on privacy protection and is not accepting calls at this time.”

  “Interrupt privacy protection, authorization TOM-beta-14, notify receiver that message is urgent.”

  The computer put the call through once again, and the phone in JT Anderson’s bedroom rang.

  “What time is it?” Anderson muttered as the phone awakened him.

  “The time is five AM.”

  “Five AM! Why the hell did you wake me? Didn’t I set you on privacy mode last night?”

  “Yes, sir,” the computer said, “however, the caller has authorization for emergency bypass. This call is listed as urgent.”

  “Christ, must be O’Grady. Put it through.”

  “That you, O’Grady? What the hell is going on that you had to call me at five in the morning, and on a Sunday no less? You’re inhuman, man.”

  “No, it’s me. It’s Sean, JT.” Sean was staring at a blank screen. “Is your video out? I can’t see a thing.”

  “That because it’s five AM, boy wonder. The sun ain’t up yet and I stopped using a night light a long time ago. Why in the hell are you calling so damned early?”