Thirst No. 4 Read online

  “Explain,” he says.

  “The IIC and the Telar are already enemies. When it comes to power and influence, they’re about equal. More important, the IIC already know about the Telar. We don’t have to prove to them how dangerous they are, or their virus. The IIC will take one look at X6X6 and understand the threat it represents.”

  “They’ll also immediately take it out of our hands,” Matt says.

  “Maybe they should. They have resources we can’t imagine. I say we warn them about the coming plague.”

  “That’s insane,” Matt snaps.

  “It sounds reasonable to me,” Seymour says.

  Matt stands and the force of his presence seems to fill the room.

  “Are you forgetting the IIC is every bit as evil as the Telar?” he asks. “They have the Array. They have even used it on us a few times.”

  “So?” Seymour says. “If they force us to jump off a building, what does it matter as long as they’re able to neutralize the virus?”

  “The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” I say quietly.

  “That’s bullshit and you know it, Teri,” Matt says. “If Sita was here she’d agree with me. The IIC may have the means to alter the vaccine and manufacture enough of it to save the world. But they’re the last group we should put in charge.”

  “Why?” Seymour asks.

  “Because we can’t trust them,” Matt says.

  “You don’t like them because they forced you to shoot Sita,” Seymour says, in a slightly mocking tone. I wonder at his motives. Throughout the meeting, I have felt he’s trying to push Matt’s buttons. I know Seymour well enough to realize he must have a reason. But I fear for him. Like his father, Matt has a temper.

  Matt stares at Seymour. “Maybe you’re right. Until you’ve had your free will ripped from your grasp, you can’t imagine what it’s like. Trust me, if it had happened to you, you’d want nothing to do with them either.”

  Seymour meets his gaze. “How did they get their hooks in you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did they have a sample of your blood?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Matt says.

  “I’m sure you don’t,” Seymour says. “Let’s move on. The danger of this virus is too big for us to handle. If we have to make a deal with the IIC or the devil himself to make it go away, then so be it. No offense to Charlie and his pals, but we can’t rely on them to alter the vaccine and spread it all over the world in time to stop this plague. It’s not going to happen, not in the real world.”

  “Seymour,” Matt says, “the vials of virus and the vials of the vaccine all represent power. We can’t just hand that power over to the IIC when we have no idea what their ultimate goals are. We would just be strengthening their position while we weaken ours.”

  “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 exh
austive 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?”

  “It’s possible. I think I went to the bathroom at some point while I was waiting for my food. But I wasn’t in there very long.”

  Treach makes another note. “What did you do after you spoke to room service?”

  The way he asks his question, I realize Treach has something up his sleeve. It must be the family I ran into on the elevator. He’s probably talked to them. I’ll have to admit to leaving the hotel, which I hate to do. It looks odd.

  “Well, I was still hungry so I went out to get a bite.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “I don’t know, somewhere local. A deli a few blocks from here.”

  “Do you remember the name of it?”

  “No.”

  “Was it two blocks from here? Or three or four?”

  “I’m not sure. It could have been as many as five or six blocks away. I don’t know the area. I just went walking.”

  “How come you didn’t eat at the hotel?”

  “Well, as far as I could tell, their service wasn’t very good.”

  “How did you pay for your meal?”

  “With cash.”

  “Do you do that often?”

  “What? Eat?”

  “Pay for your dinner with cash. Most people use a card these days.”

  “I had some cash on me and I just bought a sandwich so I used it.”

  “I try to use cash when I can,” Astor says.

  Treach gives him a hard look before he continues, and I realize I’ve underestimated the detective. He’s experienced and my story does not ring true to his ears. The more we talk, the greater his suspicions grow. I wish he was alone and I could try using the hypnotic power of my eyes on him. Unsure of my abilities, I don’t dare try it with both of them in the room. I realize that I have to end the interrogation soon.

  “Teri, when you were leaving the hotel, you ran into a family that’s staying here. They said they tried to talk to you but you were rude to them. They also said—”

  “I wasn’t rude.” I interrupt. “They thought I worked for the hotel and kept asking me directions to the Pepsi Center. Even after I explained that I didn’t know the area, they kept bugging me, especially the wife.”

  “The husband and the wife said you had a room service cart with you. Is that true?”

  “Why would I be walking around with a room service cart? It was in the elevator when I stepped inside. I had nothing to do with it.”

  “The couple’s youngest boy thought he saw a man’s body stuffed beneath the cart.”

  I stare at Treach. “You’ve got to be joking.”

  The man shrugs. “It’s what the boy told us.”

  I laugh softly. “That’s cute. I mean, it would be cute if Ken wasn’t missing. But no, Detective Treach, I can assure you I didn’t kill Ken after he delivered my steak to my room. And I certainly didn’t stuff his body in a room service cart.”

  “It’s not like any of us really believe that,” Astor says.

  I smile. “Well, that’s a relief.”

  “Did you get out of the elevator with the family?” Treach asks.

  “I waited until they left. Then I got off.”

  “Why did you wait?”

  “I think I already explained why. They kept asking me questions I couldn’t answer. And the wife seemed to get mad I couldn’t answer them.”

  “Did you by any chance ride the elevator down to the garage?”

  “No.”

  “The Johnsons said you remained in the elevator,” Treach says.

  “Who are the Johnsons?”

  “The family you bumped into.”

  “I’m sorry, they didn’t introduce themselves. No, I didn’t stay in the elevator. I got off at the lobby. But I waited a minute until the Johnsons left the area.”

  “I would have done the same thing,” Astor says.

  “Lieutenant,” Treach says, annoyed.

  Astor is not quite the puppy dog he appears. “With all due respect, I think Ms. Raine has explained her actions extremely well. I believe her.”

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “I’m not saying I don’t,” Treach continues. “I just have a few m
ore questions and I’ll be done. Would that be okay, Teri?”

  “Sure. I know you have a job to do.”

  “The reason I ask about the garage is because a Camry was stolen from the lower level about the same time Ken went missing. Furthermore, the cart Ken took to your room was found abandoned beside the parking spot where the Camry was parked.”

  I nod, act interested. “That sounds like an important clue. How do you know the cart belonged to Ken?”

  “We found samples of his hair attached to the cart tablecloth.”

  “Wow. That’s kind of scary. Maybe the boy was right. Maybe we were all standing together in that elevator and his body was crammed inside the cart.”

  Astor shakes his head. “It’s doubtful. Ken’s a big guy. To squeeze him into that kind of space, it would take an awfully strong person.”

  “But the scenario is not out of the question,” Treach says.

  “I know this is none of my business, but have you guys managed to locate the Camry?” I ask. I worry about them finding samples of hair on the driver’s seat.

  Treach shakes his head. “It’s disappeared.”

  He’s lying! Damn, they found the car already. His people are probably going over it with a fine-tooth comb as we speak. I assumed I would have had more time to get out of town.

  “That’s too bad,” I say casually.

  Treach appears to have run out of questions. He gives me his card and heads for the door. But he suddenly stops and faces me and there’s no mistaking the suspicion in his voice and expression.

  “Will you be staying in Denver the next few days?” he asks.

  “We plan to leave tomorrow,” I say.

  “Where are you headed?”

  “Nowhere in particular. We’re just going to get in the car and drive.”

  “So you do have a car?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is it a rental or does it belong to you?”

  “It’s a rental. Matt got it at the airport.”

  Treach nods. “Please, Teri, before leaving, let us know where you’re heading next.”

  I give him a cold smile. “I’ll try.”

  When they’re gone, I feel like I need a nap, or at least to lie down and rest. It’s clear to me that I’ve made an enemy, and that Treach is going to dog my steps in the coming days. True, I don’t possess my usual power, but deep inside I’m still ancient Sita. I still have a pretty sharp intuition and it’s telling me my best bet is to kill him.