Chapter Seventeen - Effects of The Substance
Hugo didn’t like the plan. It was a good plan, but it could get Clem killed if he was discovered. However, it was too late now, he was already gone. During transportation of the few survivors of the strike force to Gideon Enterprises, they ‘accidentally’ let one escape. Clem was riding him. The theory was he’d find out who this group was, what their goals were, and what their next step would be, and then he’d leave. No one knew how long it would take, or if the group had any way to counteract what Clem could do, and they had no way of contacting him. They would just have to wait. Hugo didn’t like the plan, but it had been Clem’s suggestion, his choice, and he’d done it with a smile. In the mean time, Christian and the security team were interrogating the rest of the survivors and none of them were talking, as far as Hugo was told. CJ had said to him, leaning in, her voice low, that they’d put Sol on the job. According to his file, he was an ex-Mossad officer.
Hugo was a little bored waiting around for things to happen. Mr. Hansen didn’t have anything new for him to do, the chemists and Dr. McFadden were handling the inhibitor, his brother was looking into a missing person matching the man who had tried to kill him, and CJ was out exploring. So he’d shoved himself in a corner of the room with the database and was reading a book on computer programming. The books had been available in the security office, and after his nap in New Zealand he’d been too awake to go home and sleep.
As Hugo was taking a sip from his coffee, his phone rang. It was his brother, “Hey Lewis.”
“Hey Hugo, I think I found that guy you were looking for. The wife reported him missing seven days ago. His name’s Joseph Yuler. Is that the guy you saw at the concert?”
“I don’t know, he couldn’t remember his name. Do you have the wife’s contact info?”
“Got a pen ready?”
Hugo stared at his coffee, “Sure.” Lewis rattled off a number and an address in Oklahoma, “Thanks Lewis, I’ll talk to you later ok?”
“Yeah sure. Let me know if you find the guy, I’d like to send him home.”
“I will.” Hugo hung up, pushing himself to his feet. He dialed Joseph's number. There was no answer. He waited a few minutes and tried the number again. No answer. Hugo chewed on his lip. It was probably nothing, a guy with no history or money could have plenty to do on a Saturday evening; Hugo dialed Maggie’s number, “Um…Hi Maggie, this is Hugo. Again.”
“Hello Hugo, what can I do for you?” Maggie asked, no sign of irritation in her voice.
Hugo shifted where he was standing, sticking his free hand in his pocket. He hated to keep asking her to do stuff for him. She’d cut ties with the company, and still he kept pestering her, “Um, it’s ok, never mind.”
He could hear her soft sigh over the phone, “Hugo, it’s alright. Did you want me to find someone for you?”
“Uh. Yeah. I’m really sorry.”
“Should I remind you that you saved my life? I am in your debt,” she sounded amused.
“Oh no, you don’t have to be. It’s really ok, and besides CJ did most of the work. I just kinda…”
Maggie laughed a little, “Hugo, it's fine. Let me help you.”
He let out the breath he’d been holding, “Thanks. I’m looking for Joseph Yuler. Can you find him for me?”
“Just a moment.” There was a muffled scratching sound, she was probably setting the phone down to concentrate. Several moments later the scratching returned, followed by her voice, which was low, “I found him, but… Hugo, was he a friend of yours?”
“…was?”
“He’s dead.”
Hugo paused, trying to pull something articulate out of the sudden jumble of his thoughts, “He’s dead.”
“I’m sorry, Hugo.”
“Where is he?” he asked flatly.
Maggie paused, clearly calculating how to answer, “In a morgue, but I can't tell where.”
“Ok, thanks Maggie,” He slowly hung up, paying special attention to the movement required to place his phone in his back pocket. Joseph was dead. Hugo sat down on the ground heavily, pushing his back against the wall. He didn’t know it was either/or. Joseph had had a wife and a little girl, and now they’d never see him again, and he died not knowing who they were, because he’d failed to kill him.
The door cracked open, Crysta poking her head in, “I’m taking a break. I thought maybe cof-what’s wrong?” She stepped into the room, quietly closing the door behind her.
Hugo looked up at her as she walked towards him, the corners of her mouth pulled down, “Joseph’s dead.”
She stopped walking suddenly, “Who’s Joseph?”
“The guy who tried to kill me. He’s dead. Someone killed him.”
A hand went to her mouth and she shook her head a bit, “Why?”
“Because he didn’t do what he was supposed to do,” Hugo’s voice was low.
“No, Hugo,” Crysta knelt down, placing a hand on his bent knee. There was more to her sentence but it was drowned out by a view of her standing in her bathroom looking bemused. Patrick was hunched in her tub, fully clothed, a kitchen knife clutched to his chest, “Ok?”
Hugo blinked a few times, clearing his vision, “Huh? I think Patrick’s in your bathroom.”
Dr. McFadden sat up straight, her head turning a little in disbelief, “What?”
A calm voice came over the intercom, “Dr. McFadden, please report to the medical wing, room 231.”
She stood quickly in response, waving a little in Hugo’s direction, “We’ll finish this conversation later,” then she quickly clicked her way out of the room. Hugo stood a few moments later to follow, curious to see what was going on, and fairly confident it had something to do with Patrick stabbing someone.