Silently cursing, Sheila went back to her reading. She vaguely toyed with the idea of bringing the VCR to the hospital the following day to see if one of the electronic technicians could fix it. She justified the idea with her busy schedule. There was no way she could take the time to schlep the thing to the appliance store where she’d bought it.
10:15 P.M.
PITT HENDERSON HAD BEEN SLOWLY EASING HIMSELF down so that he was now practically horizontal. He was sprawled on the threadbare couch squeezed into his third-floor dorm room on campus in front of his black-and-white thirteen-inch TV. His parents had given him the set on his previous birthday. The screen might have been tiny, but the reception was good, and the image was clear as a bell.
Pitt was a senior at the university and scheduled to graduate that year. He was premed and had majored in chemistry. Although he’d been only a slightly above average student, he’d been able to snare a position in the medical school by evidencing hard work and commitment. He was the only chemistry major who had opted for the work-study program and had been working in the University Medical Center since his freshman year, mostly in the labs. Currently he was on a work rotation and clerking in the emergency department. Over the years Pitt had developed a habit of making himself useful wherever in the hospital he was assigned.
A huge yawn brought tears to his eyes and the NBA game he was watching began to fade as his mind began to drift toward sleep. Pitt was a stocky, muscular twenty-one-year-old who’d been a star football player in high school but had failed to make the team in college. He’d weathered the disappointment and turned it into a positive experience by concentrating that much more on his goal of becoming a doctor.
Just when Pitt’s eyelids touched, the picture tube of his beloved TV blew up, scattering shards of glass over his abdomen and chest. It had been at the same instant that Candee and Jonathan’s radio as well as Sheila’s VCR had gone crazy.
For a second Pitt didn’t move. He was stunned and confused, unsure if the disturbance that had shocked him awake had been external or internal, like one of the jerks he’d get on occasion just before falling asleep. After pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and finding himself staring into the depths of a burned-out cathode ray tube, he knew that he’d not been dreaming.
“Holy crap!” he remarked as he heaved himself to his feet and gingerly brushed the thin shards of glass from his lap. Out in the hall he heard multiple doors creaking against their hinges.
Stepping out into the hall, Pitt glanced up and down the corridor. A number of students in all manner of dress, male and female, were looking at each other with dazed expressions.
“My computer just blew a fuse,” John Barkly said. “I was on the Internet.” John lived in the room right next to Pitt’s.
“My freakin’ TV exploded,” announced another student.
“My Bose clock-radio practically caught fire,” said another student. “What the hell’s going on? Is this some sort of prank?”
Pitt closed his door and eyed the sad remains of his beloved TV. Some prank, he mused. If he caught the guy responsible, he’d beat the crap out of him…
2
7:30 A.M.
PULLING OFF MAIN STREET INTO COSTA’S 24-HOUR DINER, the right rear tire of Beau Stark’s black Toyota 4Runner hit the curb and the vehicle bounced. Sitting in the front passenger seat, Cassy Winthrope’s head bumped against the passenger-side window. She wasn’t hurt, but the jolt had been unexpected. Luckily she had her seat belt on.
“My God!” Cassy exclaimed. “Where’d you learn to drive, Kmart?”
“Very funny,” Beau said sheepishly. “I turned a little too soon, okay?”
“You should let me drive if you’re preoccupied,” Cassy said.
Beau drove across the crowded gravel parking lot and pulled to a stop in a slot in front of the diner. “How do you know I’m preoccupied?” he asked. He pulled on the brake and killed the engine.
“When you live with someone you begin to read all sorts of little clues,” Cassy said as she undid her seat belt and alighted from the car. “Especially someone you’re engaged to.”
Beau did the same, but as his foot made contact with the ground, it slipped on a rock. He grabbed onto the open door to keep from falling.
“That settles it,” Cassy said, having caught Beau’s latest sign of inattentiveness and temporary lack of coordination. “After breakfast, I’m driving.”
“I can drive fine,” Beau said irritably as he slammed the car door and locked the car with his remote. He met up with Cassy at the rear of the car and they trudged toward the diner’s entrance.
“Sure, just like you can shave fine,” Cassy said.
Beau had a small forest of tissue paper plastered to the various nicks and cuts he’d inflicted on himself that morning.
“And pour coffee,” Cassy added. Earlier Beau had dropped the pot of coffee and broken one of their mugs in the process.
“Well, maybe I am a little preoccupied,” Beau reluctantly admitted.
Beau and Cassy had been living together for the last eight months. They were both twenty-one and seniors, like Pitt. They’d known of each other from their freshman year, but had never dated, each certain that the other was always involved with someone else. When they’d finally been brought together inadvertently by their mutual friend, Pitt, who’d been casually dating Cassy at the time, they’d clicked as if their relationship were meant to be.
Most people thought they resembled each other and could almost be brother and sister. Both had thick, dark brown hair, flawless olive-complected skin, and shockingly crystalline blue eyes. Both were also athletically inclined and frequently worked out together. Some people had joked that they were a brunette version of Ken and Barbie.
“Do you really think that you are going to hear from the Nite people?” Cassy asked as Beau held the door open for her. “I mean, Cipher is only the largest software company in the world. I think you are just setting yourself up for big-time rejection.”
“No question that they’ll call,” Beau said confidently, entering the restaurant behind Cassy. “After the resume I sent, they’ll be calling any minute.” He pulled aside his Cerruti jacket to flash the tip of his cellular phone stuck in his inner pocket.
Beau’s snappy attire that morning was no accident. He made it a point to dress nattily every day. It was his feeling that looking successful bred success. Luckily, his professional parents were able and willing to indulge his inclinations. To his credit he was a hard worker, studied diligently, and got outstanding grades. Confidence was not something he lacked.
“Hey, guys!” Pitt called from a booth beneath the front windows. “Over here!”
Cassy waved and wormed her way through the crowd. Costa’s Diner, affectionately labeled the “greasy spoon,” was a popular university hangout, especially for breakfast. Cassy slid into the seat across from Pitt. Beau did likewise.
“Did you have any trouble with your TV or radio last night?” Pitt asked excitedly before any hellos were exchanged. “Did you have anything turned on around ten-fifteen?”
Cassy made an expression of exaggerated disdain.
“Unlike other people,” Beau said with feigned haughtiness, “we study on school nights.”
Pitt unceremoniously bounced a piece of wadded-up napkin off Beau’s forehead. He’d been nervously toying with the paper while waiting for Beau and Cassy to arrive.
“For those of you nerds who have no idea of what’s going on in the real world, last night at quarter past ten a whole shitload of radios and TVs were knocked out all over the city,” Pitt said. “Mine included. Some people think it was a prank by some guys in the physics department, and I’ll tell you, I’m steamed.”
“It would be nice if it happened over the entire country,” Beau said. “Within a week of no TV the national average IQ would probably go up.”
“Orange juice for everyone?” Marjorie the waitress asked. She’d appeared at the tableside. Befo
re anyone could answer she began pouring. It was all part of the normal morning ritual. Then Marjorie took their orders and barked them in Greek over the counter to the two short-order cooks.
While everyone was enjoying their juice, Beau’s cellular phone’s muted ring could be heard under the fabric of his jacket. In his haste to get to it, he knocked over his juice glass. Pitt had to react instinctively to avoid a lap full of OJ.
Cassy shook her head captiously as she pulled out a half-dozen napkins from the holder and blotted up the spilled juice. She rolled her eyes for Pitt’s benefit and mentioned that Beau had been pulling off equivalent stunts all morning.
Beau’s expression brightened when he realized his hopes had been answered: the call was coming from Randy Nite’s organization. He even made certain to pronounce the name, Cipher, very clearly for Cassy’s benefit.
Cassy explained to Pitt that Beau was looking for employment with the Pope.
“I’d be happy to come for an interview,” Beau was saying with studied calmness. “It would be my pleasure indeed. Whenever Mr. Nite would like to see me, I’d be happy to fly east. As I indicated in my cover letter, I’ll be graduating next month, and I’d be available to begin work…well, really any time thereafter.”
“‘Thereafter!’” Cassy sputtered. She choked on her orange juice.
“Yeah,” Pitt chimed in. “Where’d that word come from? That doesn’t sound like the Beau I’ve learned to love.”
Beau waved them off and shot them a dirty look. “That’s correct,” he said into the phone. “What I’m looking for is some permutation of the role of personal assistant to Mr. Nite.”
“Permutation?” Cassy questioned, suppressing a laugh.
“What I like is the muted but fake English accent,” Pitt said. “Maybe Beau should go into acting and forget computers.”
“He is a rather good actor,” Cassy said, tickling his ear. “This morning he was pretending to be a klutz.”
Beau batted away her hand. “Yes, that would be fine,” he said into the phone. “I’ll make arrangements to be there. Please tell Mr. Nite I look forward to meeting him with great alacrity.”
“‘Alacrity’?” Pitt voiced, pretending to gag himself with his index finger.
Beau pressed the end button and flipped his cellular phone closed. He glared at both Cassy and Pitt. “You guys are like really mature. That was possibly the most important call in my life, and you’re clowning around.”
“‘Like really mature’! That sounds more like the Beau I know,” Cassy said.
“Yeah, who was that other guy talking on the phone?” Pitt asked.
“He’s the guy who’s going to be working for Cipher come June,” Beau said. “Mark my word. After that, who knows? While you, my friend, are going to be wasting another four years in medical school.”
Pitt laughed out loud. “Waste four years in medical school?” he questioned. “Now that’s a curious, albeit twisted perspective.”
Cassy slid over next to Beau and started to nibble at his earlobe.
Beau pushed her away. “Jeez, Cass, there are professors in here that I know, people who might be writing me letters of recommendation.”
“Oh, don’t be so uptight,” Cassy said. “We’re just teasing you ’cause you’re so wired. Actually I’m amazed Cipher called you. It’s quite a coup. I’d imagine they’d get lots of job inquiries.”
“It’s going to be even more of a coup when Randy Nite offers me a job,” Beau said. “The experience would be mindboggling. It’s a dream job. The man is worth billions.”
“It would also be demanding,” Cassy said wistfully. “Probably twenty-five hours a day, eight days a week, fourteen months a year. That doesn’t leave much time for us, especially if I’ll be teaching here.”
“It’s merely a way to get a jump on a career,” Beau said. “I want to do well for us so that we can really enjoy our lives.”
Pitt pretended to gag himself again and pleaded with his breakfast companions not to make him sick with mushy romantic stuff.
Once the food came, the threesome ate quickly. They all involuntarily glanced at their respective watches. They didn’t have that much time.
“Anybody up for a movie tonight?” Cassy said as she drained her coffee. “I’ve got an exam today and I deserve a little relaxation.”
“Not me, Pumpkin,” Beau said. “I got a paper due in a couple of days.” He turned and tried to get Marjorie’s attention to get the check.
“How about you?” Cassy asked Pitt.
“Sorry,” Pitt said. “I’m doing a double shift at the medical center.”
“What about Jennifer?” Cassy asked. “I could give her a call.”
“Well, that’s up to you,” Pitt said. “But don’t do it on my account. Jennifer and I are on the outs.”
“I’m sorry,” Cassy said with feeling. “I thought you two guys were a great couple.”
“So did I,” Pitt said. “Unfortunately she seems to have found someone more to her liking.”
For a moment Cassy’s and Pitt’s eyes held, then they both looked off, feeling a twinge of embarrassment and a mild sense of déjà vu.
Beau got the check and smoothed it out on the table. Despite all three having had various college math courses, it took them five minutes to figure out how much each owed once a reasonable tip had been added.
“You want a ride to the med center?” Beau asked Pitt as they pushed out into the morning sunshine.
“I suppose,” Pitt said ambivalently. He was feeling a little depressed. The problem was that he still harbored romantic feelings toward Cassy despite the fact that she had spurned him and Beau was his best friend. He and Beau had known each other since elementary school.
Pitt was a few steps behind his friends. His inclination was to go around to the passenger side of Beau’s car to hold the door for Cassy, but he didn’t want to make Beau look bad. Instead he followed Beau and was about to climb into the backseat when Beau put his arm on his shoulder.
“What the hell is that?” Beau asked.
Pitt followed Beau’s line of sight. Stuck in the dirt directly in front of the driver’s door was a curious, round black object about the size of a silver dollar. It was symmetrically domed, smooth, and in the sunlight it had a dull finish that made it difficult to tell if it were metal or stone.
“I must have stepped on the damn thing when I got out of the car,” Beau said. The indentation of a smudged footprint clearly angled off to one side from the object’s rounded peak. “I wondered why I slipped.”
“Do you think it dropped out from under your car?” Pitt asked.
“It’s weird-looking,” Beau said. He bent down and, with the side of his hand, brushed away some of the sand from the partially buried curiosity. When he did so he could see eight minute little domes symmetrically arrayed around the object’s edge.
“Hey, come on, you guys!” Cassy called from inside the car. “I got to get to my student teaching assignment. I’m already late as it is.”
“Just a sec,” Beau answered. Then to Pitt he asked: “Any ideas what it is?”
“Not a clue,” Pitt admitted. “Let’s see if your car starts.”
“It’s not from my car, you lunkhead,” Beau said. With his thumb and index finger of his right hand he tried to pick the object up. It resisted his efforts. “It must be the end of a buried rod.”
Using both hands to scrape away the gravel and sand from around the object, Beau surprised himself by quickly upending it. It wasn’t part of a rod. The underside was flat. Beau picked it up. At the height of the dome it was about a centimeter thick.
“Shit, it’s heavy for its size,” Beau said. He handed it to Pitt, who hefted it in the palm of his hand. Pitt whistled and made an expression of amazement. He gave it back to Beau.
“What’s it made of?” Pitt asked.
“Feels like lead,” Beau said. With his fingernail he tried to scratch it, but it didn’t scratch. “But it ain’t le
ad. Hell, I bet it’s heavier than lead.”
“It reminds me of one of those black rocks you find once in a while at the beach,” Pitt said. “You know, those rocks that get rolled around for years by the surf.”
Beau hooked his index finger and thumb around the margin of the object and made a motion as if to throw it. “With this flat underside I bet I could skip this thing twenty times.”
“Bull!” Pitt said. “With its weight it would sink after one or two skips.”
“Five bucks says I could skip it at least ten times,” Beau said.
“You’re on,” Pitt said.
“Ahhh!” Beau cried suddenly. Dropping the object, which again half buried itself in the sand and gravel, Beau grabbed his right hand with his left.
“What happened?” Pitt demanded with alarm.
“The damn thing stung me,” Beau said angrily. By squeezing the base of his index finger, he caused a drop of blood to appear at the tip.
“Oh, wow!” Pitt said sarcastically. “A mortal wound!”
“Screw you, Henderson,” Beau said, grimacing. “It hurt. It felt like a goddamn bee sting. I even felt it up my arm.”
“Ah, instant septicemia,” Pitt said with equal sarcasm.
“What the hell’s that?” Beau demanded nervously.
“It would take too long to explain, Mr. Hypochondriac,” Pitt said. “Besides, I’m just pulling your leg.”
Beau bent down and retrieved the black disc. He carefully inspected its edge but found nothing that could have accounted for the sting.
“Come on, Beau!” Cassy called angrily. “I gotta go. What on earth are you two doing?”
“All right, all right,” Beau said. He looked at Pitt and shrugged.
Pitt bent down and from the base of the latest indentation the object had made in the sand, lifted a slender shard of glass. “Could this have been stuck to it somehow and cut you?”