A bloodhound would sense the odor, perhaps, but not a human. And I suspect the people who came for Jeff have not left traces of blood that can be detected by special chemicals or lights. Nevertheless, his blood is in the air, infinitely tiny particles, and it is fresh.
There’s a strong odor in the bedroom. But I’m not surprised that my nose leads me farther on, to his bathroom, to the drain in his tub. I’m able to see the scene as if it were playing out live before me. They surprised him in his bedroom, probably while he slept. They struck him on the head and cut him slightly. Then they carried him into the bathtub and butchered him alive with a sharp knife. It doesn’t matter how long they ran the shower. I can smell the amount of blood that’s gone down this drain, and it’s enough to fill a body.
I notice there’s no computer in the house.
Lisa told me he owns three.
I return to the car. Lisa waits anxiously.
“Did you learn anything?” she asks.
Putting my hand on her arm, I gaze into her weary green eyes.
“Jeff’s dead. He was killed last night. IIC sent their people to kill him.”
Lisa struggles to keep up. “You don’t know that. You can’t . . . I was in his house this morning, and there’s nothing there that shows he was attacked.”
“That’s because the people who killed him were professionals. But in my own way, I’m a professional. I know a crime scene when I see it. Jeff is dead, and your life’s in danger. Frankly, I’m not sure why they didn’t kill you last night. I can only assume you’re still of value to them.”
“You don’t know any of this!” Lisa screams.
I lock my gaze on her eyes and force the truth into her brain.
“He’s dead. IIC killed him. I’m sorry, but you have to accept that.”
In response, she collapses, sobbing, in my arms. I hold her a long time. Although I’ve killed thousands, I’ve never forgotten the feeling of what it’s like to lose a loved one. Lisa truly loved Jeff, he was a fine man, and I know she’ll miss him for a long time.
I drive her back to her condo and order her to pack. She obeys as if in a trance. I make sure she brings with her all the computer records or written files she has on IIC. Apparently, she has a load of information on her laptop, which I keep with me as I store the rest of her things in my trunk. We get on the 10 freeway heading east.
“Where are we going?” she mumbles.
“Where no one can find you. From now on you’re to talk to only me, and on a cell phone I’m going to give you.”
“What’s wrong with my cell phone?”
“Give it to me.”
“Huh?”
“Give me your cell.”
She complies, slowly, and I shatter it on the dashboard and throw it out the window. She gasps.
“Why did you do that?” she cries.
“I suspect they placed a tracking device in it. From this moment on you have to live as if you’re being hunted. Wherever you sleep, wherever you eat, you’re not to use a credit card. Don’t worry about money—I’ll give you cash to live on. I’m going to get your new identity. Lisa Fetch doesn’t exist.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I don’t want you to end up like Jeff. Listen, you asked if I met with Ms. Brutran. I did, and I can assure you she’s one of the most dangerous creatures I’ve met in my life. She threatened to kill me, and only let me leave IIC alive because she wants something from me.”
“What?”
“I don’t know, we didn’t get that far. She’s not a normal woman, and that’s not a normal company. You know this already. You can’t go back there. You can’t call to tell them you’re quitting. Just vanish, for now, until I’m able to figure out what they’re doing and how to stop them.”
“You speak of them like they’re evil.”
“They are. Listen, this morning I was in Texas. The same man who murdered your ex, Randy, was contracted to kill a teenage girl named Shanti Garuda. Does that name ring a bell?”
“You asked me about her earlier. I told you I don’t know her.”
“IIC paid for a high-level hit man to kill this girl. I was lucky I was able to stop him. But IIC was in a hurry that she die. Can you think of any reason, even a crazy reason, why they would want her dead?”
“Wait . . .” Lisa pauses. “No, that can’t have anything to do with it.”
“What is it?”
Lisa is thoughtful. “I told you IIC’s performance in the market has dropped in the last two years. They asked me to correlate groups of numbers with the drop, to see if I could detect a pattern. The cause wasn’t obvious, because on the surface it appeared this number helped inflate their earnings.”
“I don’t understand. What do you mean by ‘groups of numbers’ and ‘this number’?”
Lisa shrugs. “That’s just it, I don’t know what the numbers stand for. But they were always five-digit numbers. Initially I thought they represented stock symbols. But later I thought they might be IIC’s way of listing people. Actual employees in the company.”
“How could an individual both help and hurt their earnings? It seems they would either do one or the other.”
“That was the puzzle. That’s why they couldn’t answer it without my help. But I’m a mathematician, and using advanced algorithms I was able to spot a trend where this number—or person—helped boost the revenue from a small group of stocks, while causing other numbers—or other people—to mess up when it came to a large list of stocks. Do you follow?”
“She gave answers that helped her performance but hurt others.”
“Exactly. Although I have no idea how she could do such a thing.”
“Shanti went to work for IIC two years ago.”
“That is a curious coincidence. Do you know the exact date?”
“I can find out.”
Lisa hesitates. “This last task they gave me at work, it made me wonder if I was finally working on what they call the Array.”
“I was wondering the same thing.”
“Do you know what it is?” she asks.
“Not yet.”
“Do you have a theory?”
“I have lots of theories. We need facts. These people are messing with your life, and now they’re messing with mine. Do you know the night after you visited me, someone showed up at my house and tried to kill me?”