In the process of slipping off her latex examining gloves, Sheila caught sight of Pitt. “Well, you were certainly right about this flu being on the increase. And did you hear the little exchange I just had?”
Pitt nodded. “Sounds suspiciously like there might have been a personality change on the part of the husband.”
“My thought as well,” Sheila said as she threw away the gloves. “But of course older people can be prone to disorientation.”
“I know you are busy,” Pitt said, “but could you spare a minute? A friend and I would like to talk with you. We don’t know who else to go to.”
Sheila agreed immediately despite the chaos in the ER. Pitt’s opinions the day before were appearing to be prophetic. She was now convinced this flu was different; for one thing an influenza virus had yet to be isolated.
She took Pitt and Cassy back to her office. As soon as the door closed it was like an island of tranquility in the middle of a storm. Sheila sat down. She was exhausted.
Cassy told the whole story of Beau’s transformation after his illness. Although she felt self-conscious about certain parts, she left nothing out. She even related what had happened the previous night, including the strange ball of light, the clandestine meeting, and the fact that everyone’s eyes glowed.
When Cassy was finished, Sheila didn’t say anything at first. She’d been absently doodling with a pencil. Finally she looked up. “Under normal circumstances with a story like this I’d send you over to psychiatry and let them deal with you. But these are not normal circumstances. I don’t know what to think about all this, but we should establish what facts we can. Now, Beau came down with his illness three days ago.”
Cassy and Pitt nodded in unison.
“I should see him,” Sheila said. “Do you think he’d be willing to come in and be examined?”
“He said he would,” Cassy said. “I asked him specifically about seeing someone professional.”
“Could you get him in here today?” Sheila asked.
Cassy shook her head. “He’s in Santa Fe.”
“When will he be back?”
Cassy felt a wave of emotion. “I don’t know,” she managed. “He wouldn’t tell me.”
“THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE LOCATIONS IN THE COMPOUND or the Zone as we like to call it,” Randy said. He pulled the electric golf cart to a halt and climbed out. Beau got out his side and followed the software mogul up a small grassy knoll. When they reached the top the view was spectacular.
In front of them was a crystalline lake populated with wild ducks. The backdrop was virgin woodland silhouetted against the Rocky Mountains.
“What do you think?” Randy said proudly.
“It’s awe-inspiring,” Beau said. “It shows what concern for the environment can do, and it provides a ray of hope. It’s such an unbelievable tragedy for an intelligent species like human beings to have done the damage they have to this gorgeous planet. Pollution, political strife, racial divisiveness, overpopulation, mismanagement of the gene pool…”
Randy had been nodding in agreement until the very last statement. He cast a quick look in Beau’s direction, but Beau was dreamily staring off at the distant mountains. Randy wondered what Beau meant by “mismanagement of the gene pool.” But before he could ask, Beau continued: “These negative forces have to be controlled, and they can be. I firmly believe there are adequate resources to reverse the harm done to the planet. All it will take is a great visionary man to carry the torch, someone who knows the problems, has the power, and is not afraid to lead.”
A smile of acknowledgment spread involuntarily across Randy’s face. Beau caught it out of the corner of his eye. The smile alone told Beau that he had Randy exactly where he wanted him.
“These certainly are visionary ideas for a college senior,” Randy said. “But do you really think that human nature, such as it is, can be controlled enough to make it happen?”
“I’ve realized that human nature is a stumbling block,” Beau admitted. “But with the financial resources and world community connections that you have amassed with Cipher Software, I think the obstacles can be overcome.”
“It’s good to have a vision,” Randy said. Although he considered Beau overly idealistic, he was nonetheless impressed. But he wasn’t impressed enough to start Beau out as his personal assistant. Beau would start in the mail room and work his way up like all his assistants.
“What is that over there on that pile of gravel?” Beau asked.
“Where?” Randy asked.
Beau walked over and bent down. He pretended to pick up one of his black discs that he’d actually pulled out of his pocket. Cradling it in his palm, he returned to Randy, and held it out.
“I don’t know what it is,” Randy said. “But I’ve seen some of my assistants with them over the last couple of days. What is it made of?”
“I can’t tell,” Beau said. “But it’s heavy, so maybe it’s metal. But take it. Maybe you can tell me.”
Randy took the object and tested its weight. “A dense little thing,” he remarked. “And what a smooth surface. And look at these symmetrically arranged bumps around the periphery.
“Owwww!” Randy cried. He dropped the disc to grab his finger. A drop of blood rapidly formed.
“The damn thing stung me!”
“That’s odd,” Beau said. “Let me see.”
“THERE HAVE BEEN OTHER PEOPLE WHO HAVE SHOWN personality changes,” Cassy told Sheila. “For instance, the principal where I’m student teaching has been acting totally different since his flu episode. I’ve also heard of others but haven’t seen them in person.”
“Frankly it is this mental status change that has me the most concerned,” Sheila said.
Cassy, Pitt, and Sheila were on their way to Dr. Halprin’s office. Armed with new information, Sheila was confident the president of the medical center would have a different response than he’d had the day before. But when they arrived, they were in for a disappointment.
“I’m sorry but Dr. Halprin called this morning to say he was going to take some time off,” Mrs. Kapland told them.
“I’ve never known Dr. Halprin to miss a day at the hospital,” Sheila said. “Did he give a reason?”
“He said he and his wife needed to spend some quality time together,” Mrs. Kapland said. “But he will be calling in. Would you like to leave a message?”
“We’ll be back,” Sheila said.
Sheila spun on her heels. Cassy and Pitt hurried after her. They caught up to her at the elevator.
“What now?” Pitt asked.
“It’s time someone made a phone call to the people who should be looking into this problem,” she said. “Halprin’s taking a day off for personal reasons is too weird.”
“I HATE SUICIDES,” VINCE SAID AS HE TURNED RIGHT ON Main. Up ahead was a gaggle of squad cars and emergency vehicles. Crime-scene tape held back a throng of onlookers. It was late afternoon and just getting dark.
“More than homicides?” Jesse asked.
“Yeah,” Vince said. “In homicides the victim doesn’t have any choice. Suicides are just the opposite. I can’t imagine what it’s like to kill yourself. It gives me the creeps.”
“You’re weird,” Jesse said. For him it was just the other way around. It was the innocence of the homicide victim that disturbed him. Jesse couldn’t conjure up the same sympathy for a suicide. He figured that if someone wanted to do himself in, it was his business. The real problem was making sure the suicide was a suicide and not a homicide in disguise.
Vince parked as close to the scene as he could. On the sidewalk a yellow tarp covered the deceased’s remains. The only gore visible was a trail of blood that ran to the curb.
The detectives climbed out of their car and looked up. On a ledge six stories up they saw several crime-scene boys nosing around.
Vince sneezed violently twice in a row.
“Bless you,” Jesse said reflexly.
Jesse approache
d a uniformed officer standing near the crowd barrier.
“Who’s in charge here?” Jesse asked.
“Actually, the captain,” the officer said.
“Captain Hernandez is here?” Jesse asked with surprise.
“Yup, upstairs,” the officer said.
Jesse and Vince exchanged confused glances as they headed toward the entrance. The captain rarely ventured out to scenes.
The building belonged to Serotec Pharmaceuticals. It housed their administrative and research offices. Their manufacturing division was outside the town.
In the elevator Vince started to cough. Jesse moved away as much as the small car would allow. “Jeez,” Jesse complained. “What’s the matter with you?”
“I don’t know,” Vince said. “Maybe I’m having an allergic reaction or something.”
“Well, cover your mouth when you cough,” Jesse said.
They reached the sixth floor. The front of the building was occupied by a research lab. There were several uniformed policemen loitering by an open window. Jesse asked where the captain was and the policemen pointed toward an office off to the side.
“I don’t think you guys are going to be needed,” Captain Hernandez said when he saw Jesse and Vince enter. “The whole episode is on tape.”
Captain Hernandez introduced Jesse and Vince to the half-dozen Serotec personnel in the room as well as the crime-scene investigator who’d found the tape. His name was Tom Stockman.
“Roll that tape once more, Tom,” Captain Hernandez said.
It was black-and-white security camera footage taken with a wide-angle lens. The sound had an echolike quality. It showed a short man in a white lab coat facing the camera. He’d backed himself against the window and appeared anxious. In front of him were a number of Serotec people, all in similar white coats. They were seen from the back since they were facing the short man. Jesse guessed they were the same people who were now in the office.
“His name was Sergei Kalinov,” Captain Hernandez said. “All of a sudden he started screaming for everyone to leave him alone. That was earlier in the tape. Plainly you can see that no one is touching him or even threatening him.”
“He just flipped out,” one of the Serotec employees said. “We didn’t know what to do.”
Sergei then began to sob, saying he knew he was infected and that he couldn’t stand it.
One of the Serotec employees was then seen moving forward toward Sergei.
“That’s the head tech, Mario Palumbo,” Captain Hernandez said. “He’s trying to calm Sergei. It’s hard to hear his voice because he’s speaking so softly.”
“I was only telling him that we wanted to help,” Mario said defensively.
Suddenly Sergei turned and made a dash for the window. He struggled to get it open. His frantic haste suggested he feared interference. But none of the people present including Mario tried to restrain him.
Once Sergei had the window open, he climbed out on the ledge. With one last glance back at the camera, he leaped off into space.
“Aw, man…” Vince voiced and looked away.
Even Jesse felt an unpleasant sinking feeling in his gut having watched this terrified little man kill himself. As the tape continued, Jesse watched as several of the Serotec people, including Mario, walked over to the window and looked down. But they weren’t acting as if they were horrified. It was more like they were curious.
Then to Jesse’s surprise they closed the window and went back to work.
Tom turned off the tape. Jesse glanced at the Serotec workers. Since they had just watched the harrowing sequence again he would have expected some reaction. There wasn’t any. They were all eerily detached from the whole affair.
Tom ejected the tape and was about to slip it into an evidence bag with an attached custody slip when Captain Hernandez took it.
“I’ll take care of this,” the captain said.
“But that’s not…”
“I’ll take care of it,” the captain repeated authoritatively.
“Okay,” Tom said agreeably, even though he knew it was not accepted policy.
Jesse watched his captain walk out of the room with the tape in his hand. He looked at Tom.
“He’s the captain,” Tom said defensively.
Vince coughed explosively directly behind Jesse. Jesse turned and gave him a dirty look. “Jeez,” he said. “You’re going to get us all sick if you don’t cover your mouth.”
“Sorry,” Vince said. “All of a sudden I feel terrible. Is it cold in here?”
“No it’s not cold,” Jesse said.
“Shit, I must have a fever,” Vince said.
“MAYBE WE SHOULD JUST GO OUT AND GET SOME MEXICAN food,” Pitt said.
“No, I want to cook,” Cassy said. “It always calms me down.”
They were walking beneath the bare lightbulbs strung on wires over the European-style outdoor market. The main commodities were fresh produce and fruit brought directly from outlying farms. But there were other stalls as well that sold everything from fish to antiques and objets d’art. It was a colorful, festive environment and popular. At that time in the early evening it was crowded with shoppers.
“Well, what do you want to make?” Pitt asked.
“Pasta,” Cassy said. “Pasta primavera.”
Pitt held the bag while Cassy made her selections. She was particularly choosy about the tomatoes.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do when he does come back,” Cassy said. “The way I feel right now, I don’t even want to see him. At least not until I’m sure he’s back to normal. This whole episode is frightening me more and more.”
“I have access to an apartment,” Pitt said.
“Really?” Cassy asked.
“It’s over near Costa’s,” Pitt said. “The owner is a second cousin or something like that. He teaches in the chemistry department but is on a semester sabbatical in France. I go in to feed his fish and water his plants. He’d invited me to stay, but it was too much trouble to move at the time.”
“You don’t think he’d mind if I stayed there?” Cassy asked.
“Nope,” Pitt said. “It’s a big place. Three bedrooms. I’d stay too if you wanted.”
“Do you think I’m overreacting?” Cassy asked.
“Not at all,” Pitt said. “After his little demonstration at basketball I’m a bit leery of him myself.”
“God! I can’t believe we’re talking this way about Beau,” Cassy said with emotion.
Instinctively Pitt reached out and put his arms around Cassy. Just as instinctively she did the same. They clung to each other, momentarily oblivious to the other shoppers who swirled about them. After several moments Cassy glanced up into Pitt’s dark eyes. Both felt a fleeting sense of what might have been. Then, suddenly embarrassed, they released each other and quickly went back to selecting tomatoes.
With their groceries purchased, including a bottle of dry Italian wine, they headed back to the car. The route took them through the flea market section. Pitt suddenly stopped in front of one of the stalls.
“Holy crap!” he exclaimed.
“What?” Cassy demanded. She was ready to flee. As keyed up as she was she expected the worst.
“Look!” Pitt said, pointing toward the stall’s display.
Cassy’s eyes swept over a bewildering collection of junk that a sign proclaimed to be antiques. There were mostly small items like ashtrays and ceramic animals, but there were a few larger things like plaster garden statues and bedside lamps. There were also several glass boxes of old, cheap costume jewelry.
“What am I supposed to be noticing?” Cassy asked impatiently.
“On the top of the shelf,” Pitt said. “In between the beer mug and the pair of bookends.”
They moved over to the stall. Cassy now saw what had caught Pitt’s eye. “Isn’t that interesting,” she commented. Lined up in a perfect row were six of the black disc objects like the one Beau had found in the parking lot of
Costa’s Diner.
Cassy reached out to pick one up, but Pitt grabbed her hand. “Don’t touch it!” he said.
“I wasn’t going to hurt it,” Cassy said. “I just wanted to see how heavy it was.”
“I was worried about it hurting you!” Pitt said. “Not vice versa. Beau’s stung him somehow. Or at least Beau thought so. What a coincidence seeing these things. I’d forgotten all about Beau’s.” He bent over and examined one of the discs more closely. He remembered that he and Beau had not been able to decide its composition.
“I saw the one Beau found just last night,” Cassy said. “It was sitting in front of his computer when he was downloading a bunch of data from the Internet.”
Pitt tried to get the attention of the owner to inquire about the discs, but he was busy with another customer.
While they were eyeing the discs and waiting for the stall keeper to be free, a heavyset man and woman pushed ahead of them.
“Here’s some more of those black stones that Gertrude was talking about last night,” the woman said.
The man grunted.
“Gertrude said she found four of them in her back yard,” the woman said. She then added with a laugh: “She thought they might be valuable until she found out that people had been finding them all over.”
The woman picked one of them up. “Wow, it’s heavy,” she said. She closed her fingers around it. “And it feels cold.”
She was about to hand it to her friend when she cried, “Ahhh!” and irritably tossed it back onto the shelf. Unfortunately it skidded off and dropped less than a foot into the bowl of an ashtray. The ashtray shattered into a million pieces.
The sound of the breaking glass brought over the proprietor. Seeing what had happened, he demanded payment for the lost ashtray.
“I ain’t paying nothing,” the woman said indignantly. “That little black thingamajig cut my finger.” Defiantly she held up her wounded middle finger. The gesture incensed the owner who mistook its motivation as obscene.
While the woman and the owner argued, Pitt and Cassy looked at each other for confirmation about what they’d seen in the gathering gloom. When the woman had held up her finger it had appeared to have a faint blue iridescence!