“Will that matter if millions start dying?” Seymour asks.
It’s my turn to stand and speak. “Matt does have a point, and so does Seymour. I still think we’re going to be forced to appeal to the IIC to help us stop the Telar but we may as well use what time we have to gain a better understanding of what the IIC’s up to. I know Sita was anxious to explore their background.”
“How do we do that?” Shanti asks.
“By researching how the company came to be,” Paula replies. “I wouldn’t mind helping in that area.”
“Really?” I ask, astounded. It’s hard to imagine Paula taking an active role. “Can you talk John into helping?”
Paula catches my eye. “Let’s not bring him into this.”
“Our time would be better spent helping Charlie build and stock a laboratory so he can alter the vaccine,” Matt says. “Let’s not take our eye off the immediate threat. X6X6 is what will destroy humanity. It’s all that matters. We have to discover how to stop it.”
“It’s just as important to stop the people who invented it,” Seymour says. “Your focus is on the virus, Matt. That’s good, you should follow your heart. Stick with Charlie. The girls and I can go after the IIC.”
Matt shakes his head. “I don’t want Teri getting near those people.”
“That’s Teri’s decision to make,” Seymour says.
Again, doubt appears to flicker across Matt’s face as he studies me. His gaze is so intense, I feel as if he literally peels away layers of skin, tissue, and bone until he reaches my psyche. I feel him inside, probing, and I can only pray that our lovemaking the previous night has deflected any misgivings he has about me.
“Teri?” he says.
I lower my head. I don’t have the strength to look him in the eye.
“I want to go with the others,” I say.
SIX
I call several of my old-time associates in the detective field to help research the origins of the IIC. To my surprise, they are not enthusiastic to hear from me. The problem is simple; I should have anticipated it. They’re not sure it’s me they’re talking to. Teri and I look more alike than we sound. As a result, on the phone, I’m far from convincing. A couple of my trusted allies actually threaten to investigate me instead of the IIC. I’m off to a great start.
But with Paula’s help, we start to make our own progress. The IIC is controlled by a board of directors made up of five people: Thomas Brutran; his wife, Cynthia Brutran; Noel Brent and his wife, Wendy Brent; Fredrick Wild. These five have been with the company since its inception, forty years ago.
It’s interesting that, before founding the company, the board members attended a graduate program at the University of California, Berkeley. Their curriculum was taught by a Professor John Sharp. On the surface it seemed to be connected to the psychology department. But a closer examination reveals that it was focused almost exclusively on parapsychology, on proving the existence of ESP, or extrasensory perception.
That was pretty much all we could learn about the program, other than the fact that it had lasted three years before suddenly being canceled when Berkeley decided Professor Sharp was performing studies of “questionable moral value.”
The four of us, Seymour, Paula, Shanti, and myself, are intrigued. We find an address for Professor Sharp online. He appears to be living in the Bay Area, in San Mateo. He’s retired, and based on how long ago he taught, we assume the man must be in his eighties.
We decide to visit without calling ahead. If he’s still friendly with Ms. Brutran, she might invoke the Array before we can reach him, and God only knows what will happen to us. Yet it’s not a big worry. Professor Sharp appears to be living in a modest apartment, and if he’s connected to the IIC in any way then they are not paying him.
Before leaving Denver for the Bay Area, the police question me about the disappearance of Ken. They come the afternoon after our war council, when I’m alone in the hotel suite and feeling the first stirrings of my thirst. The police are lucky to show up in pairs, or else I might have had one of them for dinner.
They knock on the door as if they would prefer to kick it in.
I answer wearing the sweats Teri wore in the Olympics, and leave my gold medal on the living room table. I’m shameless, I know, but the glint of the shiny medal has a powerful effect on them. Their eyes are immediately drawn to it and they smile when I invite them inside. Already, I believe, I’m halfway home.
They sit on the couch across from me and talk about how they saw my world-record race on TV. They’re detectives; they have on sports coats rather than uniforms.
“How did you feel going into the last lap?” the taller and older of the two cops asks. His name is Lieutenant William Treach. He’s close to forty, with a thin build but a wiriness that projects strength. He’s friendly but alert, very much in charge. I may have made a strong initial impression, however, I quickly notice that the man prefers clear answers.
“I was hurting and I was at the rear of the pack. Plus I was boxed in. It looked pretty hopeless. But in running, there’s a burning pain and then there’s a weak kind of pain. The burning kind can actually feel worse than the exhaustive kind, but it means you’ve still got something left. You can still go for it, and that’s what I did. I had to shove two women out of my way to get out of my box. If the race had been in America, I would have been disqualified. But European runners treat races like soccer matches. When it comes to the metric mile, they see pushing and shoving as part of the race.”
“It must have been a thrill to hit the straightaway and know the gold medal was waiting for you if you could just get in front of that Russian,” Lieutenant Sean Astor says. Short and stout, ten years younger than his partner, he has a boyish innocence that tells me he’ll be easy to fool. He adds, “What was her name?”
“Olga Stensky. I’m never going to forget Olga. She elbowed me and cut me off in the last eighty yards. I was lucky it backfired on her. As she swung into the second lane to try to block me, I moved inside. She lost a stride trying to stop me, and I won by a stride. Most track experts say if Olga had just ignored me and run her race, she would have won.”
“How did it feel to stand on the winners’ podium and hear our national anthem?” Treach asks.
“I felt like I’d died and gone to heaven. I still haven’t come down from the high.”
“I imagine you’ve received a ton of endorsement offers since the Olympics,” Treach says. I notice how he studies the room.
I shake my head. “Not as many as you would think. I just won one gold medal. Sure, it was in a big event, but it’s like I had my fifteen minutes of fame and now it’s over.”
Astor is sympathetic. “A lot of Olympic athletes say that. One week they’re getting invited to the White House and the next week they’re back home and bagging groceries.”
Treach clears his throat, signaling that he wants to get down to business. “What brings you to Denver, Ms. Raine?” he asks.
“Teri, please. I’m here with my boyfriend. We’re bumming around the country. Taking a break after all the stress of the Olympics.”
“That’s Matt Fraiser, isn’t it?” Treach asks.
“Yes.”
Matt signed in under a fake name to hide us from the Telar. A minor strategic move that has swollen in size and danger now that the police are looking at me. Treach takes out a tiny notebook and jots down a few words.
“It’s our understanding that Matt wasn’t here when you ordered room service?” Treach asks.
“That’s correct. I was alone and starving. But the room service guy never showed up.”
“Do you mean Ken?” Treach asks.
“Yes.”
“Did you call to complain?”
“No. I was about to but then they called me.”
“Was that Michael Pollak? The head of room service?”
“I don’t know his title. He said his name was Mike.”
“Why did he call you?”
“He was looking for his server.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I hadn’t seen any food or server.”
Treach consults his notes. “Mike says that you identified Ken by name even while you were insisting that Ken had failed to deliver your order.”
“That’s true. I called the guy Ken right after Mike called him Ken.”
“Mike says he never mentioned Ken by name. Not until you did.”
“He did so the second he got on the phone. But I don’t think he’s lying. I think he just forgot.”
“That happens,” Astor adds for my benefit.
“Why do you say that?” Treach presses.
I shrug. “When I spoke to Mike, he seemed like a nice guy. I think he was just worried about his employee. Is he still missing?”
“That’s why we’re here. Ms. Raine, Teri, are you absolutely certain Ken didn’t come to your door? Is it possible you were in the restroom and he knocked and left because you failed to answer?”