[the Writing of Kuypers] [JanetKuypers.com] [Bio] [Poems] [Prose]
They Key to Believingchapter 17
The ImplicationsWarrior Sloane Emerson. That should be the title on her business cards, she thought; but then again, if she were at war with someone they wouldn’t get the chance to see her card. Ms. Emerson had to now be on a mission, because she needed to use every resource she could to fight back at her unseen, almost omnipotent enemy, if she had any chance of coming out alive. The rest of the day would consist of cleaning the mess left behind by the ’vandals’, as some members of the staff assumed they were. “Well-paid vandals,” she thought. “We pay them with our tax dollars.” She could only say this to herself, still knowing that she had no proof to explain her beliefs. It seemed at this point that she didn’t even need any more evidence. The staff worked for most of the week to clean up lab; when cleaning they kept records of which files and folders were missing. The office at the front lab with the nameplate “S. Emerson” was in complete chaos and many files had been opened and sorted through, if not stolen altogether. It infuriated her that on the first full day she was back from New York and Ohio, all she could do was attempt to sort through the mess left in her office from attackers. She wanted to be able to tell the staff that the book was printing wonderfully and fill Kyle in on the details about how the press runs work -- so that he could work with her or work in her place with any books in the future -- but she never had the chance. When she was able to get to her phone, she noticed that she had voice mails waiting for her, and there was one from Tuesday afternoon, during the day before the attack, where she heard the voice of Clint Saunders. You know who this is. My advice to you is that you should clean your work belongings immediately, Trust me, because things are going to get worse, Keep your work files at home tonight. Being out of town meant that she was not working on anything new at the times and that she cleaned her office out before she left, but she didn’t know what general files were available in her office for the taking. She knew at this point that he knew something, but he didn’t say what and he wouldn’t speak his name on her voice mail. Clint would not condone her contacting him again, so she couldn’t ask him anything about what is going on. These ’vandals’ were not just petty thieves or robbers, she knew this even more now because of the Saunders phone message, but were after destroying information. “These may have been government plans to clear the lab out of information,” she thought, so she searched for ideas on how she could work to solve this. The security center of the office would have videotapes of that night; they had to, because there were monitors planted around the lab and around hallways in the building. Telling people in the lab she just needed to take a break from cleaning up the office, she pushed her way through the office hallways until she got to the security center offices. Storming in, she demanded that they play the tapes from that evening of the lab areas for her in her presence. “We’ve already gone through the tapes, Ms. There’s nothing to see,” the head security officer told her. She looked at his uniform and read his badge. “Jack, right?” “Yeah, that’s me.” “Well, Jack, please appease the head of the lab by playing me those tapes.” “Those tapes will take a long time to play, and there’s nothing to see.” “I said appease me, and ... there should be something on those tapes, though. Did the tapes not catch anyone in the lab?” “Well, they did, ma’am, but the cameras were covered up.” “Covered up? By whom?” “Well, we’re handing the tapes over to the police so they can find that out.” “So you can see people in the tapes?” “Briefly, but--” “I’d like to see if I recognize any of these people in the tape, if you’ll let me look at them.” Jack seemed to hem and haw over having to do this additional work, but he pulled out the files for her. As they started to play, in timed footage that was before the perpetrators entered the area, she had to ask, “Why is there no sound?” “Oh, these monitors don’t detect sound, they’re just for images.” She nodded in understanding, looking back at the monitor. “Now you see, ma’am,” Jack said as he tried to fast forward the footage, “we have the time displayed on these video clips so we always know exactly what time the events occurred. We figure that the time it happened was at about 2:43 in the morning,” he said, trying to advance it to just the right point. “Now you see, it’s coming up right here.” Staring intently at the screen, she watched as a blur of motion came over the viewing range of the screen from the right-hand side. The monitor images were a bit dark, but she could still make out the room. The images were black and white. But she could see that there were two Caucasian men at first. They were wearing all black and both had short dark hair, moving confidently through her lab. “Wait -- there’s a third man,” she finally said aloud. She watched the third man walk swiftly across the viewing screen, then straight to the camera. The third man leaned up toward the camera and started using a can of black spray paint over the lens of the monitor.” As soon as she learned this, she turned around. “There’s a second monitor, right?” “Yes, but they did the same thing to it.” Turning back to the monitor, she asked, “Could you play this again?” Jack rewound the digital tape and played the recording for her again. “How good is the resolution on these cameras?” she asked. “Well, the images we can pull off this camera are about 2400 dots per inch. “Wow, that’s impressive.” “It’s designed for enlarging frames for police footage. That’s why Madison hired us.” “So you think you could blow up any of these frames so I could have a copy of them?” “Sure, but it will take a little time, and what do you need them for? This is all going to the police department?” The only thing racing through her mind was that these frames were at a 2400 dpi image, so they could be blown up a lot without losing quality. She asked for the largest clearest prints of each of the men. She was sure they would do this for the police anyway. “I want to have these images to show the staff to see if anyone saw these people here,” she answered. Placing an immediate order for which frames she would need, they told her they would drop them in her work mailbox in two days. She honestly didn’t know what she would use them for, because her only chance to match these images up with any federal employee databases disappeared when her contact in Colorado Springs was killed. But she had to keep these images, just in case, for some reason, for any reason. She didn’t know what she’d need them for, but she would want to look in government databases to see if these assailants were in them, and in what department. She broke into the CIA databases once, but she didn’t have opportunity or access to the databases again, so she didn’t know what her next step would be. All of this new information was further evidence to her that this attack was well planned, because average people wouldn’t have known the lab, and wouldn’t have known to cover the lenses with paint the way they did. So she made a decision. She decided consciously to become the warrior. Madison had a small gym in it, so she would take a break from work (which couldn’t be a problem because she was there 6 hours a day overtime anyway, and if people could take cigarette smoke breaks she could take workout breaks) every day to use some of the equipment there. There was a bag there, hanging from the ceiling, so she would practice her boxing and even her kicking, then she would go to the treadmill instead of the stair stepping machine, because she wanted to be able to run and move quickly. She would do this during the day, but in the evenings she would leave work by 7:30 so she could get to the gun range to practice shooting. She was able to improve her reaction time using just one hand. She practiced not only from laying on the floor, but also with barely opening here eyes so she could be able to approximate a sight while barely seeing it. She remembered the way that Clint told her to stop attempting to contact him, but at this point she couldn’t stop herself. Because Clint Saunders gave her that message the week before, she left him a message stating that one person’s land was destroyed from a company owned by the government, and after working on a book with a publishing company the main contact was attacked and given AIDS. She felt she had no choice in giving him a voice mail message. Clint, this is Sloane Emerson. I was out of town when you attempted to communicate with me over a week ago. I’ll try to make this short, but I wanted to let you know that since I have been in contact with someone, I have had a colleague’s equipment destroyed for their work, I’ve had the U.S. Scientific Research Department claim we were stealing from them and lie in print about even talking with us, I’ve had the same department attempt to go through our files in our presence to obtain information, and most importantly, a very close friend who is in charge of our researcher’s book has been attacked and injected with an AIDS-infected hypodermic needle. I was out of town and did not get your message, which led to the destruction of our offices. If nothing else can be done, please, please tell me how I can help my friend who has been intentionally given AIDS. Please contact me as soon as possible. Sloane could only state that she did not know if she could single-handedly stop the government from the rampant and illegal actions they did with the virus, but she needed to at least save Carter. Sloane heard this message Wednesday afternoon and left a message for Clint in response. It surprised her, as she cleaned up her files that same afternoon, to receive a call in response from Clint’s office. “Ms. Emerson,” she answered. “Hello, Ms. Emerson.” She recognized the voice as Clint’s. “Hello, I’m sorry to have called you, I know that --” “I have some idea of what you have gone through.” “And?” “You said you had problems with many aspects of your work -- did you mention that there were problems with your printing?” “No, I didn’t, but --” “Did you have problems with your printing of the book?” “Not with the printing, but through the publishing company I did, after the one gentleman was attacked they changed the staff around and stopped the book from going to press. Why? That wasn’t government related.” “No, but connections from the government got through to one of the staff members.” She wondered about the slowness of Shelly Stempel. “You think Ms. Stempel had government connections that held the book back?” “Whether or not this was the ’one person’ or not I couldn’t tell you, but I can tell you that somewhere along the line there was some sort of interference holding the book back.” She couldn’t believe that even Quentin Publishing could have people that were swayed by the government. Then her mind flashed to Carter telling her that he lived in an office filled with people who didn’t want to work and who would sap off of anyone. Knowing this appeared to be how the government worked, she mustered up the ability to ask more questions. “So you think the delaying of the book had something to do with the government too?” “Nothing can be guaranteed,” Mr. Saunders told her, “but nothing certain people here would do surprises me.” The thought was going through her head that she wouldn’t put anything past the government any longer. Clint Saunders continued. “Did anything else happen that is worthy of mention? ... The only thing that surprises me is that they made a colleague contract AIDS and not a loved one.” Hearing a slight gasp in her voice, he asked, “Or was it a loved one?” Having no idea of how to answer, because she was sure they made no references to a relationship outside of that hotel room, she then wondered if they had mentioned anything about it over the phone and their phone lines were tapped and recorded. She started to panic. “No...” refusing to believe that they could have been found out, “but what I haven’t even told coworkers here is that Mr. Carter Donovan, who contracted the virus, has been a very good friend of mine for years ... Is that enough of a connection?” “It may have been...” Clint answered. “But I returned your call because it seems they have stepped up their thwarting of you, and it will probably only get worse.” “You know what will happen next to us?” “I have an idea of what will happen.” “Look, I want to be able to stop this, and I’m pretty damn sure that I’m not going to able to do it single-handedly. I don’t want to be one of these rebels that gets nowhere when battling the government, I’m sorry, but the one thing I am interested in doing more than anything right now is saving Carter’s life.” “Is ’Carter the --” “Yes, Mr. Donovan, the gentleman that was attacked.” “Ms. Emerson, I don’t know if I --” She did the honors for once in cutting him off. “Look, you contacted me when I told you about this problem, so I would think that you could help me.” There was a slight change in his breath. Three seconds passed before he answered. “Well ... The only thing I could tell you is that if you’re going to be coming to Washington D.C., the best thing to do is eat at this little diner, great sandwiches and pretty good soups, just north of Constitution on Seventh.” “There’s a diner worth going to in D.C.?” Sloane was confused, but was trying to figure out if he was trying to tell her some sort of clue. “Yes, there’s the best food at Leona’s Diner, it’s between Constitution and Pennsylvania, it’s on the East side of the street. It is the best place to go for lunch on Sunday mornings, because the place is emptier there than it is during the week. You did say you’d be around there then, right? That’s why I brought it up.” Finally, she understood that he could only talk to her if they met somewhere, and this was his way of telling her when and where. She did her damnedest to remember the information and started writing down the name and location of the diner to meet him at Sunday. “Yes, I was thinking of being somewhere around there, so I think I’ll have to try the food. Thanks for letting me know.” In order to get any more information from her contact again, she would have to meet him in Washington, DC; she would see him while visiting Carter to check his progress, because she had no money for these additional traveling visits. This way she could justify the flight on Madison’s plane even, as long as it was available. Clint replied, “The best I can tell you is good luck in your search, and I hope the cleanup of your offices doesn’t stop your staff from doing its work.” “Thank you. Good-bye,” she said, and after hanging up the phone she realized she never told him about her office being attacked, that he must have just known that they would do this to her office without having to ask. Looking at the clock on her wall, she knew it would be late in New York, but she would have to call Carter to tell him she would be visiting him this weekend with a mid-trip excursion to Washington, DC. “Hello?” She heard his voice and started to feel a bit better already, considering what had happened since she had been home. “Mr. Donovan, hello, it’s Ms. Emerson.” Carter was a bit taken by her referring to them both by their last names only. “Well, hello, angel, I didn’t expect to hear from you this quickly after the press visit.” “Yes, well, I wanted to let you know that I planned a visit, as long as the Madison plane isn’t taken, to check on your condition this weekend. I have some additional business to do in that part of the country this Sunday, so I thought this would be a good chance to check on your health.” “I’m doing fine, but I guess...” “I guess it would be in Madison’s best interests to check on how you are doing when you are a perfect example of what following the steps our book outlines along with taking the medication can do for a patient. So I wanted to confirm with you that it would be alright to see you and check on your progress.” “Yes, that would be fine, I should be working and exercising here all weekend, so just let me know when you’re coming in to town, so I can pick you up from the airport.” “I’ll check on the plane schedule and I’ll get back to you. Thank you, and I’ll talk to you soon.” With that they placed the receivers on the telephones and Sloane decided she had to make her way to the front office to check on the schedule for the plane. With seeing Carter in a few days on her mind, she felt more comfortable and more confident. As soon as she walked out of her office, she saw the mess the lab was still in, and all of her fears and angers came rushing back to her. She saw Kyle and said from ten feet away, “Is everything going okay today? Is the clean-up okay? How bad is it for you?” “Actually, most of it is just rearranging piles of paper. Most of our stuff was in locked cabinets, and no cabinets were crow-barred open, so it’s just a paperwork mess.” “Not a lot of broken glass or anything?” “Not really,” Ellen chimed in as she walked by. “It just looks a lot messier than it is...” “Good then,” she answered. “Just make sure everyone keeps a record of exactly what was taken, even if it was one page out of many in a notes or test page. And I’ll get back to you in a bit...” she said as she started to walk out the door to go to the front desk for plane information. “You know, Sloane’s office was the worst in all of this,” Howard said to anyone around him, including both Kyle and Ellen. “Yeah, she’ll probably be cleaning up at least into next week,” Kyle answered. Almost jogging, she got to the front office in nearly record time. Walking right up to the receptionist at the front desk, she didn’t want another minute to get what she wanted. “May I see the schedule for the airplane?” “Yes, ma’am,” the woman said before she got the file folder from under the desk for Sloane to look over. Staring over the sheet, she saw an opening and filled in her name for that weekend for the plane. Thursday morning, while she was at work, still cleaning up her office and checking to see how everyone was doing with cleaning their spaces and collecting lists of what materials were missing and needed to be replaced, she received yet another phone call. “Sloane Emerson.” “Hi, it’s Steve. How are you?” She always wondered in the back of her mind if he thought there was something more to their relationship because they had kissed, or if he felt she would be at his beck and call whenever he wanted. So even though she liked being around him, she tried to figure out the appropriate way to act and the right thing to say when she spoke with him. “Hi, Steve, it’s been a while, a lot has been going on.” “I didn’t get a chance to talk to Kyle, but I saw everyone from your work just over a week ago and you were going for the press check. How did that go?” “The press run was great, Steve.” “And your friend?” “Carter’s fine too,” she answered. “But we ran into a new problem when I got back from the press check.” “What’s going on?” “Our offices ... hey, don’t be a reporter and write about this, please.” “Sure, but I’d guess if it was newsworthy it would have already been reported. What happened?” “Our offices were broken into and our lab was sort of trashed.” “Oh my God! Is everyone okay?” “Yes, it appears that it happened at two or three in the morning last Tuesday night. No one was here.” “Wow ... So, you’re cleaning up stuff now? Or was a lot taken?” “We have to finish tabulating how much was destroyed or taken, so we don’t have dollar amounts. But we’ll get it done -- it should be done by the end of this week.” “Do you always have something filling up your time like this?” “No, I just seem to be special this month...” Steve laughed. “Do you need to take a break from your work tonight? I’ve tried to prove before that I’m a good listening post.” “Maybe, if you want to meet at nine o’clock.” “That late?” “I have to work out and go out for a practice session tonight, so I’ll look like a mess, but that’s when I’ll be back.” “You don’t want to go anywhere?” “No, I’ve sworn off drinking right now.” “Why? Did you drink too much when you were with me?” “It’s not that, I’m just trying to get in shape, so I’m not going to drink.” “Got it. So you want me to come by at 9:30 tonight so you have time when you get home?” “Okay. I’ll see you then.” She knew she had to take care of her office and the lab, work out, and eventually go to the gun range to practice. She even had to make sure that she kept everything locked away so that if anything like this ever happened again, the information wouldn’t be stolen as well. During lunch the newfound routine was completed, to the gym for an hour-long work out. Boxing first, then kicking the heavy bag, and then running on the treadmill. Quick shower; hose head off, then back to the office. Still cleaning and organizing, Sloane made sure to keep everything of hers locked whenever she was not there -- even if it was only for lunch. The staff even received a memo and an e-mail note from her about this. To: Madison Lab Staff From: Ms. Sloane Emerson Security in the Lab To Everyone: Hi. I just wanted to send a note asking that we take heightened security measures with our lab work. We don’t know who did this to us, but we can try our best so that it never happens again. I’d strongly recommend that all of our lab work, notes, test results, memos, everything, be placed in storage whenever we leave the office. We have locks for the main lockers in the lab; they should be filled and locked at the end of every day. I’m going to make sure I do the same within my office every day, and I may even lock everything up when I leave the office for lunch. I can make sure that things are locked when I leave late, but I need everyone’s help so we can make sure that our work remains just that - our work. - Ms. S. Emerson She even made a point to make the similar message sound strong in voice mail that was forwarded to everyone that worked in the lab. At 4:00 in the evening, shortly before she left for the day Thursday, she received yet another personal phone call. “Ms. Emerson.” “Hi, it’s your dad.” “Hi dad, how are you doing?” She noticed that she was once again more pleased than usual to hear from family and friends because she knew then that they were okay. “I’m fine. How’s my little buttercup?” It was cute how her father still called her that. “I’ve got a lot going on, but I always seem to.” “You’re not used to that by now, dear?” “I think I’m starting to get used to it, but ... why did you call? I know Eric canceled when we had dinner plans before because he had work to do at the post office, but is someone canceling again?” “No, I was just calling to make sure that you still had next Monday open for meeting with everyone for dinner.” “I’ve got it, and I’ll be there.”
Leaving the safety of the holstered gun on in her purse, she had no problem carrying it around with her. Her hands were getting a bit rougher, either from boxing and working out in the day or from holding the gun and regularly practicing in the evenings. By the time she came home it was 8:45, and Steve was bound to be coming by soon. Looking at his eyes in the rear-view mirror of his car in the middle of his ride to her house, Steve still wanted to make sure he looked just right. He knew that there was technically nothing between them, but he still made a point to wear the jacket over to her home, even though he didn’t even need to wear it for work that day. All that he knew was that he had been able to kiss her, and all he could think about right then and there was kissing her over and over again. “She said she didn’t want to drink,” Steve thought, “but maybe she’ll change her mind.” Or maybe she didn’t want liquor clouding her judgment when she was near him, so she could choose to be with him without blaming the alcohol. There was a world of excuses she could have had, but he thought that there was still a chance he could be with her. “I have done everything right,” he thought, “I haven’t been too forward, and I haven’t done anything to get her angry. She kissed me back, and she asked me to stay in bed with her the night I was over. I have been a perfect gentleman; I even got her water and painkillers and vitamins so she would feel better. I could have so taken advantage of her, but there is no way I would have spoiled my chances and done that to her...” “I have to keep his head and he had to pay attention to the road,” he thought. The streets had frequent curves in this part of town, and there were quite a few hills. There were even people straggling around through the perimeter of the Fish Market. He had a lot on his mind. Steve pulled into a florist shop before he came home, not knowing of anything else he could bring her. Not knowing if red roses would be too pretentious to assume he could give to her, he thought of white roses for friendship, but thought that message would never be enough. “Sprinkle the whites and the reds, six of each ... Yeah, mix them together so it doesn’t look like you shoved six whites in front of six reds ... no, I don’t want any pink ones...” Not knowing if he was going to spend the night or not, Steve parked close to the front doors for her apartment complex. Steve ran his hand over his jacket again just after knocking; he even ran his hand through his hair to make sure it looked good. “Who is it?” he heard from behind the door. “It’s me, Steve,” he answered. The door opened; all he could see was her hair, still a little wet from being outside. “I didn’t know if I should present the flowers in front of me to come in or not,” Steve said as he started to come in and she closed the door. “What are the flowers for?” Steve looked down and started to smile. “I don’t know ... I just figured you deserve them.” He handed her the flowers wrapped in paper and continued. “Besides, you never give yourself any credit for all you do and all you put up with, so I figure someone should...” Sloane opened the flowers and saw the roses. “Roses? Well, thank you so much. You really didn’t have to.” “I know,” was all Steve answered. “Have a seat while I put these in a vase,” she said. “Do you need anything to drink?” “What do you have ... and what are you having?” “I just thought I’d make myself some tea, but you can raid the fridge for something.” Steve wasn’t expecting her to have tea, and he didn’t want to have anything more than what she had. “Tea is good with me,” he said as he sat down on the couch. She walked into the kitchen with a vase from the shelf to put the flowers in. She already had a pot on the stove with enough water for a few cups of tea. After she put the flowers in a vase with water, she set up the two mugs with bags for steeping; she tried to analyze the flowers, she couldn’t help but do anything else, it was in her nature. “Roses, a dozen roses ... I know they’re not all red roses, but some of them are ... And he came here again this late at night to see me ... and he’s wearing a suit jacket, this late at night, why ... and I’m sure he doesn’t drink tea regularly...” Walking out of the kitchen, Sloane tried to speak to fill the space. “The flowers are beautiful. Why the different colors?” As soon as she said it, she couldn’t believe she was so tactless to ask that. “I don’t know, I thought red was really pretty, but I thought I should add some white ones, you know, for you being my friend.” Would she believe that, Steve worried. “I’ll grab the tea for us too ... did you need any honey or sweeteners to go with it?” “I hear honey in tea is good if you’re getting a cold, so maybe I should have a little honey.” “Okay, I’ll be back in a minute...” she said, walking back into the kitchen, impressed that Steve even knew that honey in hot tea was good for your throat. “Want to talk about what’s been going on at work?” Steve asked as she walked back into the living room and gave Steve his tea before sitting down next to him. “What do you want to know? We’re still cleaning up a little, checking our lists of destroyed and missing paperwork and merchandise --” “Did these guys break a lot of stuff, or was it all just stolen?” “It looks like there was very little stolen, it just seems like a few papers are missing.” “Are they important ones?” “They look mostly like lab test results, but we have more intricate copies of them on our computers. Why do you ask?” “Just wondering if someone was trying to steal your secrets in your research...” “You make it sound like we’re at war here...” “You do keep that kind of data secret, though, don’t you? You keep the formulas for your drugs secret, right?” “As we’re making them, yes, because if we are successful with our test work those compounds will be trademarked, but it looks like what was stolen was not enough to be able to create anything from.” “Why was stuff stolen then?” “I don’t know...” Not being able to say a word about this to Steve, she wondered if it was government people filtering through their work, and they just tried to steal enough so that the formulas would not exist in their entire form there again. “Well...” Steve struggled to think of what to say to get her mind off of her work. “What have you been doing other than work?” “Not much, really... I was at the press run and met with a swami who is a master of yoga and meditation --” “Are you thinking of taking them up?” “No, it was to learn about ways to help AIDS patients, which I guess was related to work.” Steve knew at this point she was still stuck on a work track. “And your friend from the book is doing well over there?” He didn’t realize that this could have been the most wrong thing he could have said if he wanted to have any chance with her. “He’s doing really well,” she answered. “We were really lucky that he had my business card in his wallet, because I even called Kyle from New York to verify the amount of Emivir we could safely shock his system with, and he seems to be in near-perfect health now. I am starting to go there semi-regularly now to check on his progress and make sure he is following everything that the book he’s publishing for us outlines.” “That kind of makes it like he’s a post-book-publishing case study of how these things work...” “We ran month-long test studies to see how people reacted to doing these things when they had AIDS to begin with, that’s why we felt more confident about writing the book, but I think there are two things to learn from this. One is that patients making positive choices for themselves give them a sense of control over their condition, which helps them toward feeling better. The other is that we caught Carter right when he was diagnosed, just less than twelve hours since he was infected from a needle. So it is good, but it’s also a different case study, I guess.” “But how are you holding up through all of this?” “What do you mean?” “I mean you’re talking about healing all the sick, little miss Mother Teresa, but you never look into how you are doing. That’s why I got you the roses.” “I’m fine.” She waited a minute before saying anything else. “I’m always fine.” “You’re lying.” “What?” “Don’t make me repeat myself.” “What did that mean?” “I saw you fall apart when your friend was first infected. Is it just that time has passed, making it okay for you? Things seem to keep hitting you, though. You’ve had all those other problems you talked to me about before, and then your lab was ransacked by someone.” “And?” “And ... And I don’t know, but I just think that there’s only so much that anyone can take of all the stuff that you’re going through.” “I don’t have a choice.” “Well you could let it out once in a while.” “What good will that do me?” Steve was stunned by all of her responses, like it was natural to just go through this. “Do you not have any emotions?” “What?” “You’re asking ’what’ a lot.” “Your questions don’t make sense a lot.” This one got Steve. He thought he was getting better at countering her remarks. The entire night the two of them just talked, and although this bothered Steve immensely, they didn’t even bother kissing. Steve knew that it just had to be because she had too much on her mind. Steve wanted to be the journalist and get the scoop with her; she told him that she had been trying to work so that everything might be able to fall into place and they might get the answers to their problems. “I don’t want you to have to go home too late, Steve.” “I can stay here as long as you need me to.” “Well, I...” “Do you want me to go? I’ve crashed here before.” Steve was really enjoying being close to her and sometimes holding her as they talked and he was searching for any opportunity to stay with her. Steve wasn’t the only one that enjoyed it, but she had work to do and she needed to rest before working, then flying to New York. “Steve, I do like being with you, but I do have to pack for a flight after work tomorrow, and ... well ... I have to go to work early in the morning.” Steve curled his hand around her cheek and jawbone. “I know I should learn my lesson and take a hint...” She liked feeling his hand on her skin, but she knew she had work to do and she couldn’t fall into a trap that he was probably too capable of setting. “You don’t make this easy, Steve, but maybe I shouldn’t bother making it a hint.” “What do you mean?” “Maybe it’s not a hint, but maybe I should flat out state that it is getting late and you should go.” Steve battled with whether or not he should ask to kiss her, but he knew that would be the most obnoxious thing to do. He ran his hand along her jawbone until his fingertips passed over her chin. He got up first, saying, “Why do I have to like you so much?” She followed him to get his coat at the front door. “I don’t know ... to remind you that you have a soul, maybe...” “Do you make cracks like that to keep me in line or piss me off?” “Which does it do?” Sloane asked. Hearing her say those words made it sound like an open invitation to Steve so he couldn’t help but hold her head with his two hands and slowly kiss her forehead. “I think you say it to keep me in line,” he said, as he moved his head over to her left check, “but I don’t know if it works,” he said as he kissed her left cheek and moved to her right check to kiss her face again before he left for the evening. That night Sloane lay in bed, thinking of what she could do to attempt to relax. Nothing could calm her down; her mind was still reeling. “Wait, I talked today about Nuanchan,” she thought. “I haven’t even been able to think about going to that place and looking for that person.” With that she lay in bed and tried to imagine the place she had seen before. The image came to her easily. She was half sitting, half laying down on the beach, with no one around her. It was sunset and there was a slight breeze that drifted over the sand and her body; she could feel the sea air and smell the salt in the water moving gently 10 feet away. Every once in a while she heard a sea gull crying as it flew overhead. She looked over at the water, then suddenly remembered that someone should be meeting her there, she remembered that she had been told someone should come up to her here. “Where is this person?” she then thought. She was beginning to get antsy sitting there on the beach; she kept thinking that something was supposed to happen. There was supposed to be someone here, that is what she’d been told, someone should be here that she could talk to, and all she wanted to know was: who is taking over my space? “This is supposed to be my space”, she thought, “and I thought no one was supposed to be here.” Thinking about this got her more and more angry. “I’ll just wait here, then.” She stormed to the water, got her feet wet, realized it was really warm water, and sat down right at the edge of the ocean, pushing her feet into the water. It felt like a bath to her, and she just thought that she would enjoy the warmth of the water while she waited for this person to show up and try to take over her space. She waited for a long time. Sloane fell asleep while sitting at the beach, waiting for her answers.
Luggage was sitting at her front door in the early morning, packed and ready to go with her to work so she would be ready to go to New York via the Madison plane immediately at 2:45 in the afternoon, getting her to New York at almost eleven in the evening Eastern Standard Time. And deciding to work out and not drink, and even go to the gun range to practice and make the conscious decision to do something to save her life, maybe all of these things helped her work with a greater speed and efficiency than she imagined. Her office was cleaned out and entirely reorganized by Friday at noon, where she had all of her work locked in padlocked and key-locked cabinets, a safe and a fire proof filing cabinet safe. Her reports of all missing data, files and equipment were prepared and given to Julie before most everyone else’s was later in the same afternoon. She then was able to work our for a full hour over her early lunch, practicing intensely on boxing punches, then violent kicking, then nearly running on the treadmill. Taking a shower afterward, she had to scrub her skin down with gels and loofah sponges and brushes for minutes and attack her hair with two different types of shampoo and a conditioner to try to clean herself of everything that was around her, so she could be ready for her journey to see Carter again. She even had to just stand under the shower head for a minute, letting the water beat her flesh; she wanted to cleanse her body the way she wanted to clear her mind of the problems she continually faced. Throughout the afternoon Kyle worked almost exclusively with her on theories about changes for potential vaccines. They stayed in the lab so she would be available if anyone needed to ask anything, but she had to leave for the airport for her business trip to check on the status of one of their book publishing contacts. Being on the private plane was something she had almost gotten used to, which gate would she have to go to, what security checkpoints she would have to go through, what doorway would she have to step through so she would walk out on the runway to get to the Madison plane, where she usually ran into Jim. He saw her this time and thought things looked different. “Ms. Emerson, something seems different about you, if you don’t mind my saying...” “I mind you calling me Ms. Emerson, but I don’t know what you’re talking about with things being different.” “We’ll talk on the plane,” Jim said as he pointed to his ears; it was so loud on the runway because motors were already started all around them. After the plane took off, Sloane heard the intercom make a noise telling her to come to the cockpit. She moved to the door and went in. “I forget how amazing it looks up here,” she said. “There are so many different lighted controls and switches here, and the window view is just phenomenal. This is really a beautiful sight.” “It’s funny to hear someone say that all of these controls are beautiful. I see them all the time.” “But all these lights mean something you have to watch so that we can be in the air like we are now. It’s really amazing.” Jim had forgotten about how other people were amazed at the view. “I didn’t ask you here to look at the view, I wanted to ask you a question.” “What?” “I don’t know how to put it without sounding strange, but what has changed?” “What do you mean?” “You look really different than you ever had. You seem more energized, maybe. Or more ... more determined.” Sloane smiled. “I would even guess that you look more alive. Does that make sense? So, what has changed?” “Jim, so much has changed, but none of it is good...” “Tell it to me in fifty words or less and I’ll be pleased.” “Okay... A colleague’s research was destroyed. We completed a Madison book. I fell in love with a wonderful man that was later attacked and infected with AIDS. The book was then held back. Um, a contact about AIDS research was killed by a car. Our lab was trashed and files were stolen... Was that enough?” “That’s impressive.” “What?” “It’s impressive that if you remove the ’Um’, you have fifty words exactly.” “Did you even hear what I said?” “Yes. And it sounds you like needed more than fifty words.” “And all that ’stuff’ makes me look more alive?” “Hmm, I don’t know if everything that has happened to you makes you more alive, or if it is the way you deal with everything.” “What?” She was still confused and a bit irritated by his comments. “You fell in love with a man who got AIDS.” “...Yes.” “How does that make you feel?” Sloane slunk back when he asked her that. “How ... do you think it makes me feel?” “So what are you doing now?” “Trying to keep him alive. And why did you ask about that and not about my contact being killed or research being lost or my lab being raided?” “Because I thought you were in love when I saw you before. Is it the same man I thought it was then?” “Well, yes, actually, but I don’t understand where you’re going with this.” “His problem is part of all of the other problems, all related to your work on AIDS, correct?” “Yes.” “Are you doing anything about all of this?” She hesitated before answering. “Yes.” “Are you being lazy or nonchalant about doing anything about this?” Sloane almost yelled, “No.” “Why not?” “Because I care too much about this, and I want to save Carter, and I --” and when she said these words she understood that he was witnessing a vigor in her he had not seen before. “And you could see that in me? Did I need to be pushed this hard before?” “I don’t think so. You just look ... a bit more obvious about your determination now.” “Well ... I suppose I am. Why? Should I not be this way to help save his life?” “No, I think this is exactly how you should be.” Jim said, smiling, almost laughing, as he flew them to New York. Carter was waiting at the airport, as he had before, the way he was used to waiting. He enjoyed this wait though, because he knew that by the end of his wait the woman he loved would come walking out of the terminal to be there for him. He knew when she should be arriving, and it wasn’t in conjunction with a commercial jet arrival schedule, so there would not be a flock of people rushing toward him at once. He would just see her. Walking past the entrance gate all alone, she saw him at the end of the hallway, and didn’t now how to act. But she came up with a plan on the fly, and walked right up to him, looking very determined, and started poking on his chest. “Mister Carter Donovan...” “Yes?” “I have something very important to tell you...” “Yes?” he responded, not knowing whether he should laugh at her hitting his chest or be genuinely concerned. “I love you more than life.” She kept hitting his chest until he wrapped his arms around her in the middle of the airport and held her tightly. “You’re carrying your luggage on you?” “Of course,” she answered. “You’re lucky, angel,” he said as he wrapped his arm around her. “Now that I’m back with Quentin I’ve got the car.” “It’s better than paying the insanely high fees for a taxi...” “And we can actually be near each other in the car,” he responded as they made their way out of the airport to get to the company car for Carter. When they got back to his place, he asked the now normal question, “What would you like to do this evening?” “I usually feel like staying here, so that is fine with me again. I need to save money too, seeing that I have had to get so many weekend flights here to see you before I could use the Madison plane.” “It can’t be that bad for you...” “Well, I’m seeing about getting a raise from Colin at Madison now, because of all of the additional work I have been doing and all of the revenue it will get him, so we’ll see if that works out.” “Do you have any food in the fridge?” Sloane asked him once she got her belongings out of her carry-on case. “Sure, but what are you looking for?” “Oh, I just thought I could make you some meals tomorrow. Why? Are you hungry now?” “No, angel, it’s late -- but you’re three hours ahead of me right now. Do you need any food?” “Do you have a piece of fruit? I’d be fine with that.” “I think I’ve only got strawberries now, I hope that’s enough for you.” “Only if you feed them to me,” she responded. “Oh, you’re so cruel... Let me get the food for you.” “Let’s just get to a couch, I’ll get the food and drink. Do you need any juice or water to drink?” “The water would probably be best for me,” Carter answered. “You sure you want to get it yourself?” “Sit down and warm up a space for me.” She turned around and filled two glasses with water, then rinsed the strawberries he had left and brought them in a bowl out to his living room. It seemed natural for her to just drop everything on the table and place herself in the crook of his arm. She started to eat with the bowl of berries right next to them on the couch, and they could reach their water at the table right next to where they were sitting. Before she could eat too much, she decided to talk. “Carter, I wanted to tell you something, and I don’t know if you’re going to like it, but I’m going to tell you anyway.” This confused Carter. “Okay... tell me.” “I’ve made friends with someone who is a friend of a coworker, remember Kyle?” “Yes...” “Well, this friend of his, I met him before we said anything to each other, and I got the really strong impression that he liked me, but you know, nothing happened between us.” “Okay...” “Actually, he kissed me then once, and it was atrocious...” “So where is this going, angel?” “Well, I can talk to him as a friend, and after I came back from taking care of you after you were attacked and I was helping them treat you ... well ... I was in a bad way that day. I tried to go to work that Monday and I couldn’t sleep that night, and I started calling anyone I could to make sure everyone was okay, because if my work did this to you --” “You have no reason to believe this was because of you.” “Yes, I do. But right now that doesn’t matter. I wanted to contact my family, and I talked to my friend Toby, the guy I saw the day before I visited you the first time this year.” “The one that drank like a sieve in Miami?” “You remember well. Yes, that was him. We met up for lunch at a bar, and I just drank through the meal.” “You?” “Yeah. Cookies and Cream Martinis. I had three or four.” “Oh my God. So okay, you drank a lot at work. Is that what you needed to tell me?” “No, this friend of Kyle’s called me back and said he’s take me out when I said I had some awful news. So he came to my place and I suggested that same bar to go to and we went there and he bought me those martinis again, and he even tasted one so he could figure out the right proportions to make it at home. We then went to a liquor store and bought liquor, then we went back to my place and we made drinks.” They both sat in silence after she said that. “There is more to the story, though,” Carter said, starting to think that she had sex with this guy. “Yeah, and don’t think this was because I drank too much, because I know I did, but I think I was just so sad and lonely because of everything that had just happened.” Carter couldn’t help but tense up, but he wanted to hear the words come out of her mouth. “So what happened.” “Well, he ended up kissing me because I had gone through so much. And ... and I kissed him back.” “Then what happened.” He found himself asking questions like he was from the military, almost the same way Sloane asked questions of him when she first knew he had AIDS in the hospital. “I think I just passed out...” “That was all?” “Well, he was in bed with me because he helped me to bed, and I woke up from a bad dream again, and he held me to make me feel better. And we kissed each other again.” “That’s what happened?” “Yes, but I --” “You didn’t have sex with him?” “... No ... what would make ... Oh, you thought I was going to say that.” “That was what I thought you were going to tell me.” “I thought it was bad enough that I kissed him.” That made Carter think for a minute before he responded. “Then why did you kiss him?” “Because ... because I wanted to feel that love and attention I feel when I am with you, I suppose.” “Did it work?” “For the time, yes.” “Have you wanted to kiss him again?” “Well...” she had to think of her real answer. “No, no I didn’t. I liked the idea of a man that cares about me being close to me, but I didn’t want to kiss him. Actually, he came over to talk to me last night if I needed it, and he brought me a dozen white and red roses, and he wanted to stay the night. But I told him no, that he needed to leave so I could pack and go to work early in the morning, and then he kissed my forehead and checks when he said good-bye. It was strange. Should I have not even kissed him in the first place?” “Does he know about me?” “I can’t tell anyone about you, because you’re someone that got us the book. But I told Steve that you’re my best friend, and this kills me that you’ve contracted AIDS in this attack.” “His name is Steve?” “... Oh, yes. That’s his name.” “...And he thinks I’m a friend.” “The problem is, you are, you’re my best friend.” More silence fell before Sloane broke the silence. “I just wanted to tell you that, and I don’t know how you’re taking it...” Carter sat there for a moment. It took him a while before he could answer. “I don’t like the thought of you in another man’s arms, you know that. I ... I suppose I can try to understand you needing someone to be there after leaving me here ... You have no one else to talk to in Seattle, do you?” “Not really, no. I’m not good at making friends, I guess.” “Just don’t let anyone take advantage of that.” “Of my having no friends?” “Of needing someone and being all alone.” “I don’t want to be alone, Carter. I don’t want either one of us to be alone.” Carter waited a minute before speaking again. “Do you love me?” Quickly turning around, she got on her knees on the couch as soon as she heard him say that. “Oh my God, yes, I love you. I love you more than anything, you have to know that. I love you so much.” She didn’t know if she should hold him at this point, because she didn’t know how angry he was. “I love you too. If you need someone to hold you, I will be here. Hell, I’ll fly out to see you every weekend so I’ll be around to hold you.” “No Carter, I think I should be doing the holding,” she said as she tried to gesture him to move around so she could hold him. Carter started to accommodate her gesture and she continued. “It’s my fault that I was falling apart when this happened to you. I had to be strong the entire time I was around you when I heard. I even had to break the news to you, I had to prescribe the proper dosages, and then I had to fly across the country by myself and take over my stagnant job. I lost it, and that is my fault. I --” “It’s not your fault that you had to do so much. You were amazing.” “But I’m sorry that I needed someone there to comfort me after all of that. The thing is, you’re the one who needs it, not me. I’ve been a selfish pig in --” “A selfish pig?” “Okay, you get the idea, though... My point is that you need that comforting too, a lot more than I do. So if you forgive me, please, let me somehow make it up to you.” Putting his head to her chest as she held him for at least ten minutes, he finally said, “You didn’t even have to tell me about it, you know. Why did you bother?” “I didn’t want to keep anything from you,” she answered. “Well,” Carter then asked, “was he a better kisser?” Laughing, she replied, “No, no, definitely not...” She leaned her head down toward his when she answered him and he then leaned his head up so she could kiss him.
After they both worked out Saturday morning, they went back to Carter’s home and she demanded to cook something for his dinner. She had researched what she thought would be the healthiest ingredients for him, to make him soup, a salad, and a stir-fry main course. She subconsciously examined his eating habits and available foods. “He’s doing pretty well,” she thought, as she noticed him moving her purse and her holstered, safety-latched handgun after dinner. “What’s this?” Carter said as he picked up her purse and was holding the gun to slide it back into her purse. “You know what it is.” “How did you even get through the airport secusity with it?” “I didn’t have to go through the public terminals to go on the private plane; if I flew on a commercial jet I couldn’t take it with me, but no one stopped me.” “Why do you have it?” “Because ... because I don’t feel safe.” “Why not?” She knew at this point she would have to explain everything she had heard and what she knew about the possible conspiracy and AIDS to Carter. “Carter, come here, sit down,” she said she guided him to the couch. “Why, is this going to explain the gun to me?” “Yeah, let me start telling you things, and let me know when you understand my desire for security.” Carter looked at her, at first cynically, then more credulously as she spoke. “Now remember when I first saw my friend Toby, whose rain forest land was destroyed?” “Yes...” “Now, I looked into who bought the land, and it was a cover company owned by the government to use the land for something else, and I know that records can be overlooked sometimes with the government, but think of the rest of the story and then see how it ties in.” “Okay...” “Shortly afterward a government agent contacted me, telling me some information about the government’s involvement with the HIV virus.” “But they don’t have any contact with the virus ... other than the agency that you were battling with...” “That what I have believed too, but this guy gave me some paperwork that said he was a spy using the virus.” “Using the virus? How? I don’t get it.” “I don’t know if this guy was entirely right or not, but there were three things I remember from meeting with him in Colorado. One was that the government was going to start putting a stranglehold on companies like mine to stop us from succeeding at coming up with medicines for AIDS patients. Another was that he said we were being watched, and I looked out the window from where we were and saw a man in a suit watching us.” “This is a little far-fetched, angel. And that was only two things.” “The third was that he actually was given AIDS from a hooker given to him for the night from an agent in another country when he was in a meeting.” “Sure. Did he look like he had AIDS?” “Carter, the U.S. government gave him a medication which actually cured him.” “Oh God, are you serious?” Carter started laughing. “I didn’t believe any of this until I saw his medical reports from before and after that said period of time when he was given the cure. He also gave me records that he was unconscious for a few days, as he said the cure medication would do to him, in a hotel in another country.” Carter still didn’t believe her. “You have this evidence?” “I do, and ... so do you.” “Where? I...” Carter then remembered that she gave him a sealed file folder to keep in a safety deposit box and not open. “Is it in the sealed envelope you gave me to hold for you and not open?” “I gave copies to a number of people to hold, in case something gets worse.” Carter was beginning to see that there may be truth in any of this. “But what else has happened?” still not believing that she should be reacting this way. “He said worse would happen, and a day or two later unjustified claims were made from the U.S. Scientific Research Advancement Department saying that Madison stole from the government, when they had no proof that they were even working on the same thing ... That and they later wanted to go through our offices, we made sure in the lab that everything was locked away and everyone said they couldn’t open up any locked cabinets and we had no computers on to the network, but when they came by they tried to open cabinets and look into our computers. You know, all claiming to do this and be ’friendly’.” “Really...” Carter was only beginning to see the picture, but he was beginning to understand why Sloane was being so argumentative with the government in her essays he read to splice into the back of the book. “Wait, there’s more. The agent who told me the information, gave me another contact name, then was killed in what they reported as a ’hit and run accident’. But I knew for a fact that it wasn’t an accident.” “This is something you were telling me about before. You said someone gave you information and you illegally went into his computer after he was dead ... This is all coming back to me now, you told me about this when we got together the first time, you were all shaken up, I’ve had so much going on, I didn’t even remember.” “Yeah, well that’s what those files I gave you were. And I talked to his ’connection’ who works in DC, and he said that the mess with the rain forest and Toby was part of their plan. He even said he wouldn’t be surprised if I had trouble getting my book out.” “Well, the book is at press, and --” “And as soon as you were diagnosed they kicked you out of your department and sent a bunch of lackeys who only stopped the book from printing. Are you not seeing more pieces fitting together?” “So he’s saying there are patsies in my company for the government?” “He didn’t say that, he implied that they could easily convince people in your company to hold the book back because it’s not a good idea to publish it.” Carter tried to think of how easily it would be to sway some of the people in his company. He tried to let all of this register in his head before he could answer. Finally, he spoke. “This contact you’re talking to now... Wait, I remember that he said he’d contact you when he needed you, right?” “Yes, he did, but I called him and begged for help after you were diagnosed. And he said that was one of their tactics, but they must be speeding up their plan to use something so drastic to stop us.” Carter leaned back on the couch, let his jaw hang open and couldn’t speak right away. “And if you don’t believe me, think of this: the contact only contacted me this Tuesday, leaving a short message on my voice mail, telling me to clean up all of my belongings right away, and that evening the lab was attacked and we’re missing files and papers. I called him back the next day and begged for his help because of what they did to you, and only then did he call me back right away. He even told me to meet him tomorrow in DC so he could tell me more.” “So... that’s why you’re going to DC tomorrow. And if this is all right, then I’m going to die because they want to stop your work?” When she heard his words, this one hit Sloane as well. She leaned back and started to shake, like she was about to cry, as she continued to try to speak. “He knew about the attack before it happened to the lab, he knew of the existence of what happened to Toby, and even the slowness of the book production... I think I surprised him with the information about you, and that is why he told me to meet him.” Carter still tried to think of everything he was just told, and tried to think of his original question. “And so you got a gun...” “I got the gun after I found out my contact in Colorado Springs was killed. I didn’t use it much, but now I have been going to a range daily with it so I feel comfortable with it and can use it quickly, or single-handedly, or without much time to spend narrowing my shot.” “You’ve been doing that and cleaning up the lab?” “That and working out ferociously. I have been taking an hour a day to box, then practice my kicking, then run on the treadmill so I can make sure I am in good shape in case I need to be.” “You’ve been doing all of this ... and you haven’t even told me.” “Why did you need to know? You have enough on your mind.” “You wouldn’t have told me if I didn’t see your gun, even.” “I said, it didn’t seem right to get more people in danger by telling them.” “You gave me the files, doesn’t that put me in danger?” “Not if you don’t know you have them and you don’t know what they are.” “Jesus Christ,” she heard him say under his breath while he was still leaning back. He kept repeating the phrase, and that almost made her laugh. “Have you even had any time to work? I mean, you’re doing all of this, you’re juggling all of this...” “Once I decided to take back my work, really take it back, I threatened and successfully got you back at Quentin, and then I decided to exercise and practice at the range with my shooting, I have felt stronger and more in control than I have in a while... When I did all of that, I was even able to focus on my work more and come up with ideas for a vaccine better.” ...“It’s just amazing.” “What is, Carter?” “I don’t know, you’ve had all this going on and you haven’t told me, and it seems you’ve become stronger because of it...” “I don’t know what the government was thinking when they pulled all of this,” she said. “Either they wanted to make me give up --” “or they thought all of this happening would weaken your spirit to make you unable to do your job well.” “You think that was one of their options?” “A more believable one,” Carter said. “I’m just surprised it had the opposite effect from what they intended.” And so it did, as she was ready to fight harder than she ever thought she could to keep Carter alive, and to keep her dream alive about what America was still supposed to be. Early Sunday morning, before dawn, she was ready to leave at the airport to fly to Washington, DC. Jim flew her there, and she asked him in this puddle jumper if he would go to the cafe to get something to eat at lunch, but not necessarily be there with her, so he would know when she was ready to leave. “Like we did in Colorado Springs?” he asked. “What do you mean?” “You wanted me to be at the coffee shop with you then, too. I can eat at this diner as well...” “Thanks a lot.” Otherwise she remained silent during their flight, trying to figure out exactly what she’ll need to say to make their visit more believable at Leona’s Diner. Trying to find this place by walking around in the heart of Washington DC’s political district, she arrived just after noon. Jim stayed behind her and looked at the sights, making a point to arrive about fifteen minutes later so they didn’t look like they were together. Sloane walked in and looked around the room, noticing that there were only two tables filled, and they each had two people in them. “Couldn’t be Clint,” she thought, as she tried to look across the room at the menu behind the counter written in chalk on the wall. After standing there about two minutes looking at food choices, she heard the bell on the door ring as it swung open. She intentionally made a point to not look at whomever came in behind her. After a few moments, the older gentleman walked up behind her and said, “It’s not Philadelphia, but their Cheese Steak here is pretty good.” “Is it?” she responded. “Whatever you do, don’t get the gazpacho soup”, he answered, as he looked directly at her while standing behind her and almost resting his head on her shoulder. “I’ve never been here before,” she answered, wondering if this was Clint, “I just heard very little information about this place.” “Well, it sounds like you need more information,” the man left in a very slight pause before he continued, “about this place.” “Yes, I probably do.” “Let me tell you what, I’ll pick something out for you, just pick a seat and I’ll bring it to you. You look like you’re from the other side of this country, like Seattle. It’s a good thing you came here for the food, but I’ll pick out something good for you to eat.” Sloane nodded in agreement, knowing at this point it had to be Clint, and moved over to a corner table. Clint showed up five minutes later to her corner table with food for the both of them. “Is this just minestrone soup?” she asked. “I figured this would make you full.” “What if I want everything I can get here,” she asked, trying to use this food as an apparent metaphor for her getting information for her AIDS searches. “Having too much food might make you sick.” “What if I’ll take my chances.” Clint paused. “If you can’t take some for carry out, maybe some could even be delivered to your door.” She had no idea of what that phrase meant to her, so she thought she’d leave it alone and let him sit to eat. “You look like you’re here from work. You usually carry your paperwork around with you?” “I usually carry a copy of my work with me, in case I need it.” “Do you need it now?” “I don’t know, Clint, I might.” She thought she was pressing her luck by saying his name, but this would clear up any doubt in her mind. “Well, what are you working on?” he asked. Knowing then that she was with the right person, she pulled the images from the single frames of the looters that broke into her lab. “I was looking for evidence of who these men were, or more importantly, where the came from. I am sure they are with some agency, I just don’t know which one.” “These people are just goons, you realize that.” “But that doesn’t tell me where they are from. Their names may mean nothing, but knowing what agency they are from might let me know where this all started.” When she said this he then knew that she was not fooling around. “Just flashing around these pictures to strangers is going to get you nowhere, though.” “Do you know if I can find out who they work for?” Clint waited a moment before answering, as he put his hand out to take the images. “Of course.” She handed the image copies over to him. “Is this what you came here looking for?” “No.” “Then what? You couldn’t be looking for who these goons were.” “I was looking for --” “Knowing where they came from couldn’t be it wither, because really, what are you going to do with that information?” “Then why am I here?” “I know these agencies, and I know you are one person. You’re not going to have any luck changing the world.” Sloane saw Jim walk into the diner, He spotted her and walked up to the counter to order a sandwich for himself. “Actually,” she said, “I was looking for a vial.” “A what? Of what?” “Medicine.” She watched the change in his face when she said that word. “I am a researcher, and I need to save a life.” “Just one?” Clint’s question caught her. “I’ll settle for one if I can’t save the world.” “How noble of you.” “What?” “Wanting to save the world.” “Well I don’t want people sick and dying. But if I had to, I’ll settle for one vial, for one person.” “It means that much to you?” “It’s my life.” “Your research?” “That’s my job. Someone tried to mix the two, so now it is much more than my work.” They sat in silence and Sloane had finished her soup. Clint still had some of his chili in his bowl. Sloane reached over with her spoon, without asking, and said, “I’m taking some of yours.” Clint saw that she had gone through all of her food and was looking for more. He didn’t stop her, because he knew that she wanted help too desperately. “You can have it -- I’m done eating.” Clint got up to leave. “Do you need my business card to send me the image data?” “No, I have the information, and you won’t need to contact me. I have your information,” he said as he walked out of the diner. Hearing those words made her know that she should not call him or try to e-mail or write him. but she did not know what additional information she got from meeting with him. She glanced up at Jim, who was looking at her. She leaned back, trying to figure out what the next step was, or what she could possibly do. After a few minutes to collect her thoughts, she leaned over to make sure everything in her briefcase was neatly put away. Jim saw this and stood up to put the rest of his sandwich in the bag it came in; he still had his coat on, so when Sloane was putting her coat on Jim started to walk toward the front door. He beat her to the font door, so he was a gentleman and offered to hold the door open for a stranger. They walked out, their separate ways, the way they did when they came to the diner, knowing where to meet minutes later so he could fly her across the country again, back to Seattle and her her home.
Back home that evening, she couldn’t do much to focus on any work, but she had nothing to focus on with her search for AIDS cure information. She tried to get a full night’s sleep so she could get to work in the morning. Monday morning she arrived early at work to work out, and got into the office right after Kyle can in. He threw his newspaper down on the table next to Sloane to start working with her, and she saw half of a headline. “Kyle, can I see your paper?” “Don’t you get a paper yourself?” he jokingly said as he reached over to grab the paper to toss it over to her. She read the story headline that caught her eye.
Department of Defense Agent Clint Saunders Killed in Terrorist Activity (WASHINGTON, DC) Special Agent Clint Saunders, a member of the Department of Defense for 26 years, was shot late last night by an Al Quieda sympathizer because of actions the U.S. government is taking against terrorist activity, sources say. She didn’t read more of the article; she knew that was not why he died. Dropping Kyle’s paper back at his desk after asking for the article, she walked straight to Julie’s desk. “Julie, I know I ask favors of you all the time, but it would really help if you could find any information anywhere about the death of Clint Saunders late last night. If there’s anything about causes of death, when he was found, who did the autopsy, anything, I’d appreciate it.” Surprised and slightly confused by the request, Julie looked at her a little blankly, but said, “Sure. I can get that for you this morning.” By ten in the morning, packges were dropped off; there was an overnight package that was sent to Sloane. Julie saw the name on the package was Clint Saunders, so she walked it over to Sloane and handed her the envelope. “Ms. Emerson? I thought you could use this, since you asked for information on him.” She handed her the envelope. “Thank you.” she said as Julie walked away. She saw the package was from Clint himself. Turning pale as a ghost as she read the label, she asked Kyle to excuse her, so she went into her office to open the package and read its contents. to: Ms. Sloane Emerson Research Manager, Madison Pharmaceuticals Ms. Emerson: I couldn’t tell you anything in person, and I saw your resolve. I hope this can help your friend. There are a military bases on the East side of Pennsylvania, and what you are looking for it at a building at the Stenford Military base, north of Philadelphia, past Bethlehem. In the base there are a series of buildings there that look like warehouses. All are under strict military supervision. The vials you are looking for would be only there. There should be more than one sample there, as this is the storage place for the reproduction of the materials. I cannot get you into the site or to the buildings. All I can say is that it is made to appear as a low-security area because the military does not want it to look like there is anything secretive going on there. They do not have motion sensers to detect criminals, but they have regular circulating lights and men as guards every thirty feet, unless there is a tower nearby, where there will be more guards. Late night would be the best time to see the site. Knowing that weekly guard changes occur every Thursday, where Thursday night guards will be new to the terrain, the best I can tell you is that guard changes occur at 8:00 p.m. and 4:00 a.m. I hope this information meets you well, And God’s speed. Mr. Saunders The moment of truth had come for her here. She knew she had to go there and try to get to the warehouse in the middle of the night that Thursday. Since an airplane would be too traceable for her to go there with she opted to drive. Immediately turning to a road atlas at a shelf behind her, she started pinpointing her routes to get there on time. She started thinking and taking notes at the same time. “I’ll rent a car, leave at dawn Tuesday morning, take I90 through Montana because there is no speed limit, cut down through Wyoming to I80 at Cheyenne. If I need to I can sleep in Nebraska, but otherwise take I80 through all the way ... I’ll have to sleep in Illinois or Indiana, but I’ll be able to make it to Pennsylvania from there by Thursday. The military site I’ve got to go is south of I80 near the edge of Pennsylvania, but I think that would be the best way to go...” She looked over at her calendar before calling the front desk to tell them she’ll be taking an emergency vacation week off, noting that she had to go to dinner with her family tonight. “Oh, shit,” she thought, though she wouldn’t back out, because before dinner she had to get the rental car and after dinner she had to pack to go on a trip where she might even be able to do something to save someone’s life.
Click here for Chapter 18 of The Key To Believing
|
portions of this book are in the following books:
|
