Out Of Time
This time it felt different. She’d had an odd sense of impending accomplishment since the call from her CEO, Hershel Rand. He very seldom involved himself in the nuts and bolts of the company. He was a high-energy, high-efficiency administrator. He knew the worlds of money and corporate warfare as well as Brin knew her cultures and petri dishes, and the two rarely crossed paths. Other than annual budget talks and occasional pep talks, he let her run things the way she saw fit.
Now he said he had something she had to see, something he didn’t trust anyone else to handle. He knew how she worked, and more importantly, she thought he knew why she worked. He said researchers in China had presented some brilliant work—something that could shift the entire paradigm of genetic research. These weren’t the sorts of things he would say in idle conversation. Nothing was insignificant in his world; no moment was wasted. As Brin’s fingers slipped and she nearly spilled a file folder’s contents onto the floor in her haste to clear her desk, she smiled. She hadn’t been so excited about a meeting since her initial job interview years in the past.
She only wished Alex would be there to share it with. He didn’t fully understand her work, but he supported it—and her—and she knew he’d listen. When he was away, she felt isolated and kept things bottled up. He really was a vital part of her life, and she felt—too often—that she was operating under a painful handicap.
Brin swept the rest of the mess off her desk and into a large box. She could file it later, when there was idle time. Her hand whipped up in a nervous gesture that displayed the watch Alex had given her for her first Mother’s Day—the year she got pregnant with Savannah. Five minutes. She’d better go upstairs to Hershel’s office.
She made the elevator just as the doors began to close, slipped inside and sighed with relief. The ninth-floor button was already lit and she smiled. She didn’t usually get this worked up, but Hershel had been excited and her mood had fed off his ever since.
Elaine, Rand’s executive assistant, was at her appointed place, the phone tucked under her ear and her glasses halfway down her nose. She waved Brin past, into the CEO’s office. The door was open.
The office was empty, another odd fact. Hershel never left his door open, especially not when he was out of the office. Brin slipped inside and eased into a leather chair. She bit her lip and wondered if she’d have long to wait. Nothing about this day, or this meeting, was normal—why expect the normally punctual Rand to be the exception? She had just fixed her gaze on the skyline beyond the great window when her boss popped up from behind the desk, scaring her half to death.
“God! You just about gave me a heart attack!” She laughed then, but there was little humor in it.
“Sorry. I had some new equipment installed this morning and the cords keep tangling around my chair wheels.” He offered up a feeble smile, stood and crossed the room in quick strides. “Let’s get down to it, shall we?” He stuck his head out the door. “Elaine, turn on my voice mail and go get yourself a latte. Don’t come back until I call you.” He shut the door to his office firmly.
Brin frowned. She had never known Elaine to leave her desk without someone to fill in, and she had never known Rand to let her. She studied his face as he slid back into his chair, rolled forward and regarded the plasma monitor set into the top of his desk. Whatever he saw there made him smile and he relaxed a bit.
“Everything okay?” Her voice sounded weak, even to her.
“Fine. Just making sure we’re really alone, if you know what I mean. Now, as I said, we have some research material coming in from China. You’ll be impressed—I guarantee it.”
“All right. But why not have it sent electronically? We’ve got the best network security in the business.”
“You don’t understand. This is huge. World-changing huge. I couldn’t risk having it sent electronically, no matter how impressive security is. It will be arriving late this afternoon, and after I review it, you’ll get a chance to have a go at it.”
“What type of research is it?”
“Sorry, Brin, not just yet. All I want you to do right now is clear your schedule. This project is going to be your number-one priority for a while anyway. And I have to insist that you not discuss this. Not with anyone on your team, not with Alex. No one. Do you understand?”
She paused for a moment, the crease in her forehead deepening. This was so out of character for Rand that it scared her. “I understand. And I don’t discuss my work, except in the vaguest of terms, with anyone. I doubt they’d understand anyway. But my team—”
“Is out of the loop on this one. Totally out. It’s you and me. I need your help on this one, but it has to be our secret,” Rand said.
“Understood. I don’t have a problem with that, but any serious research is going to require assistance.”
“I knew you’d understand. Once things get past the initial stages, we’ll find ways to compartmentalize the research. Now, I have another meeting. I’ll let you know when it arrives.” He gestured in the direction of the door, dismissing her. His face, which had shown traces of humor when he popped up from behind the desk, now lacked any humor at all. In fact, it seemed almost pressed in on itself, creased and tight with stress.
Brin nodded slowly and made for the door. Whatever was going on was huge—that was certain. And it made her nervous as hell. It also irritated her that Rand was so nervous he’d called a meeting with her to not tell her what was going on. He could have had her meet him after whatever the big deal was arrived. Every move he’d made on this one was out of character. There was only one thing that would make her feel better—Alex. She only hoped that she wasn’t too late to catch him.
Cell phones were prohibited inside the building. Not only did they lead to slacking off, but they also interfered with a lot of the equipment they used and could be a security risk. Brin made for the roof of D-wing. It was only five stories high and there was a small lounge out there for those people who liked to escape the sterile air of the lab. In that small area, the cell phone dead zone was lifted. She hurried out the door, smiling as five pairs of eyes met hers and looked askance of her.
Alex’s cell phone was first on her speed dial, permanently recorded in every contact log she had. “Alex,” she said quickly and the phone dialed. There was a dead-air pause and then it rang. And rang. Suddenly, Brin felt as though she might cry. Her call was forwarded to voice mail and she stomped her foot, cursing her luck for having been too late.
“I just wanted to call and let you know that I miss you already.” She swallowed hard, fighting back tears at the thought of how empty the house would be that night. “I love you.”
She slapped the phone shut and sighed, staring at the clouds for a moment before she shuffled through the door, back into the carefully sterilized and conditioned air. Now she wished that research would hurry up and arrive. At least then, she would have something to focus on other than Alex’s absence.
8
Alex stepped out onto the tarmac and heaved a sigh of relief. It had been a long flight to Seoul and his back ached. He couldn’t be sure whether the pains and twitches were from exhaustion or a byproduct of the MS, and just that uncertainty alone was enough to keep his nerves on edge and disrupt his rhythm. He stretched, yawned and headed toward the south side of the airport. He’d arrived in a private Room 59 jet that traveled under a counterfeit corporate name. If someone checked, the phones would be answered, but the address was nothing more than an abandoned warehouse near the docks in New York.
His contact in Seoul would provide his gear and take him into China. There was nothing like running around the fence to get to the barn to eat at a man’s nerves.
About three hundred yards away from where the plane he’d come in on was parked, another plane waited. This one was smaller and not anywhere as close to being well-maintained. A small Asian man puttered about beneath it, checking the landing gear and whistling. Alex recognized him immediately as Yoo Jin-Ho, a contact he had used before in both Korea and Southeast Asia. Jin had the typical dark hair and eyes of his native Korea, and his skin was still ageless and smooth. It was a small relief to see a familiar face, but something was off and it took Alex a moment to place it.
What was unrecognizable was the bright smile on Jin’s face. The last time Alex had seen him, he’d been beating the hell out of a South Vietnamese asset who’d turned double agent. Jin’s smile widened, and he climbed to his feet, wiping his hands on his gray coveralls and then extending one in a handshake.
“Good to see you again, my friend. I trust you are well?”
“Fine as frog’s hair. It’s good to see you, too, Jin,” Alex replied.
Jin nodded. “Your jumper is in the plane with the rest of your things. We’re flying a load of televisions to Beijing today. I hope you are up to some heavy lifting.”
“I’ll go change,” Alex said, “and check my gear.”
He turned and marched up the short stairway into the plane. It was a small cargo plane and, judging from the smears of oil on each side, the engines had failed more than once. When not assisting the agents of Room 59, Jin ran a small freight service out of Seoul. He had a couple of planes, one other employee—his son—and a boatload of guts. Alex had liked him at first sight and he welcomed the opportunity to see the man again.
His hands had begun to tremble, and he made a conscious effort to remember to keep them out of sight. Jin was no fool, and if he caught a whiff of something, anything, wrong, he’d bow out. Jin wasn’t a coward, but he didn’t like taking stupid chances. There was no way to complete the mission without him.
The tremors were very slight this time, but enough to remind Alex that he wasn’t one hundred percent. He had to lean on the cargo netting in order to pull on his jumper, and it made him want to hit something. Already he felt exhausted and wrung out, even though all he’d done so far was sit on the long, boring flight from the U.S. to Seoul and review the mission parameters.
Jin had placed a large duffel bag in the back of the plane. It contained everything Alex needed for the mission except the explosives. It wouldn’t do to be caught entering China with those. Aside from that, he was well equipped. Jin had come through for him yet again. Alex settled in, lost in thought.
When Jin’s face popped back over the pilot’s seat a few moments later, the sound of his voice startled Alex, and he sat up, shaking his head.
“I’ve filed the flight plan and almost finished the checklist. We should be able to take off in about twenty minutes.”
Alex hadn’t even heard the pilot return. “Good. I’m ready to get started,” he said. “The sooner I can get this over with, the better.” He checked the cargo netting over his duffel, and glanced dubiously at the boxed televisions lining the cargo bay.
“So, all of those are boxes are TVs?” Alex asked, raising an eyebrow.
“That’s what my invoice says. You know what a law-abiding man I am,” Jin said.
“Do you know anything about the local asset I’ll be utilizing in Beijing?”
“I don’t know him personally,” Jin said. “He has a good reputation, gets the job done at all costs. Very John Wayne. Reminds me of someone else I know, eh?”
Alex chuckled and looked down at his boots. “You do know me too well. Usually I kill anyone who does.”
“I’ll take my chances. Now, I have to finish the last three things on this checklist and then we’ll take off. You might as well strap in.”
Alex slipped the harness over his waist and clipped the buckle together. No matter how many times he rode in one, he would never get used to the touch-and-go ride of these little puddle jumpers. He sighed and for a moment his mind was pulled back to Brin and Savannah. It made his heart ache. He was anxious to get this flight under way. The sooner he got started on this mission, the sooner he could be on his way back to them. The longer he was away, the less precious time he’d be able to offer them. He knew he had to tell Brin everything, and the thought of it filled him with dread.
Alex closed his eyes and pictured his two girls curled up together on the big bed, and he fell asleep with that image filling his thoughts.
9
Brin awoke the next morning to Savannah’s sweet face. Somehow, she had crawled into bed with her mommy, laying her head on the pillow where Alex usually slept and staring at her mother until she woke up—another thing Alex did. Brin’s eyes snapped open and a small gasp escaped her lips. That first glimpse of Savannah’s eyes made her think, just for a second, that Alex had somehow returned to her. Stupid. He was never gone less than five days, and quite often it was several weeks or more.
“Good morning, baby.” She kissed the tip of the girl’s nose. “And what are you doing out of your bed?”
“I have to go potty.”
There was urgency in that last, a little fear, as well.
“Let’s go, then.”
Brin threw back the covers and grabbed the girl, hurrying down the hall toward the bathroom. No telling how long it had been since that urge first hit. No telling how long the girl could hold out. She tugged her daughter’s pants down and placed her gently on the potty seat, then turned to take care of her own needs. Before she could even get the lid up, the phone rang, echoing down the hall and making Brin’s head hurt a bit.
“Who the hell would call at this hour?” She glanced at the clock in the living room and realized that it was past nine.
“Hello?” she mumbled, the phone halfway to her ear.
“This is Woodard’s Pharmacy. We have a prescription ready for Alex Tempest.”
Brin spent a long moment furrowing her brow instead of speaking. “Uh, okay. I didn’t know he needed a prescription filled. As far as I was aware—never mind. I’ll be down in a few hours to pick it up for him, if that’s all right.”
“That’ll be fine, Mrs. Tempest. Thank you.”
“Goodbye.”
Down the hall, Savannah had sounded the “I’m done” alarm. Brin hurried down the hall to help her.
“You go sit in the living room. Mommy will be there in a minute to get your juice. I just have to go potty first.” She pecked the top of Savannah’s head and shooed her out the door.
Was Alex sick? She didn’t remember his mentioning anything about a doctor or medicine. She wasn’t even aware that he hadn’t been feeling well. Suddenly, she felt like the worst wife in the world.
Savannah’s juice chant made her finish in a hurry. The next hour would be filled with getting ready and feeding Savannah her breakfast. No time to wonder what, if anything, was wrong with Alex. Savannah was cute and sweet and it truly was a blessing to be her mom. At the moment, the girl was a godsend. If not for her daughter, Brin would just sit around and worry all weekend.
After they finished breakfast, cleaned up the kitchen and went through the complex rituals involved in dressing Savannah for the day, Brin threw on her own clothes and they piled into the SUV. She had the usual shopping to do for the week. But first she had to stop at the pharmacy.
When Alex and Brin had first moved to the neighborhood, Woodard’s Pharmacy was the only one for ten miles. There were several more now, of course. But they continued to use Woodard’s out of loyalty and comfort. There were things in that pharmacy that you couldn’t find anywhere else, like a dollar ice cream cone and a pharmacist who kept track of all your medicines and knew when not to give you one pill with another. They also sent cards on your birthday. That kind of dedication and caring just couldn’t be bought.
They were no sooner through the front door of Woodard’s than Savannah was running full-tilt toward the ice cream counter. They also had squished cheese sandwiches there, which made Savannah squeal with delight.
“Savannah, no, honey. We’ll have ice cream after I get Daddy’s medicine, okay?” The day was hot and the ice cream would taste so good, but first things first.
“Aaaawwww!” There was a tiny foot stamp to punctuate her disappointment, but no tantrum followed. Her terrible twos hadn’t been too terrible—so far. Brin took her daughter’s hand and led her to the prescription counter, where she was met by a young woman with a head full of thick red hair and the brightest green eyes Brin had ever seen. As many times as she’d been in the place, she’d never seen the girl before. For some reason the change in personnel felt like a betrayal.
“Hello, I’m Mrs. Tempest. You called earlier about my husband’s prescription?” She felt Savannah lean against her leg and knew that all was well.
“Please give me your husband’s full name and address.”
“Alex Tempest. One-thirty-four Brickle Lane.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Tempest.” The young lady sorted through the waiting prescriptions and pulled out the proper bag. She held the bag out to Brin with one hand and worked the cash register with the other. “That’ll be thirty-eight dollars, please.”
Brin swiped her debit card and keyed in her PIN number. Once the transaction had gone through, the young lady handed her the receipt with a smile. “Thank you for shopping at Woodard’s and come again.”
Brin turned and walked toward the ice cream counter, Savannah hurrying to run around her and get there first. Brin bought them each an ice cream—Brin’s in a cone, Savannah’s in a cup. Then they sat down in their favorite booth, right next to the candy counter, and dug in.
Brin took the amber pill bottle out of the bag and squinted at the label. Klonopin. It was used to treat seizures; that much she knew. What she didn’t know was why Alex would be taking it. The doctor’s name didn’t ring a bell, either. For as long as she had known him, Alex had never had a regular physician, nor had he gone to a doctor unless he was genuinely in pain. There was just that one time, when he had had pneumonia so bad that walking across the room brought on a five-minute coughing fit.
“Savannah, baby, you sit right here for a sec, okay? Mommy has to go back and talk to the medicine lady again.”
Brin slid out of the seat and hurried back to the prescription counter. “Excuse me,” she said to the young woman behind the counter. “I was wondering if you knew anything about the doctor who prescribed this?”
The woman took the bottle and read the label. “Just a moment, please.” She went back into the pharmacy and typed something into the computer, then returned with a piece of paper. “I’m afraid this is the only prescription we’ve ever filled for this particular doctor.”
“Well, what kind of doctor is he? I mean, is his office nearby?” Brin frowned and then bit into her lower lip.
“According to the physicians’ database, he’s a neurologist. Here. I’ve written down his address and phone number in case you need to contact him about your husband’s medication.”
Brin took the piece of paper and studied the address written on it. It was only a mile away from her lab, but she couldn’t picture the building it was in. “And you’re sure he’s a neurologist?”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s what his license says.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
Brin turned and walked slowly back to Savannah, the paper clutched in one hand and a dripping ice cream cone in the other. Savannah was coated in ice cream, and Brin took a moment to clean the girl’s face, still distracted by the medicine bag next to her on the seat. Why the hell was Alex seeing a neurologist? More importantly, why was he keeping it from her?
Whatever was going on, she was damned sure going to talk to this doctor first thing Monday morning. As soon as Alex came home, she was going to have a little chat with him, too.
10
Alex gritted his teeth as the small plane touched down at the airport in Beijing. Jin was a terrific pilot, but Alex’s legs ached all the way to the bone and his head had begun to throb. The flight had been uneventful and smooth, but he still longed to stretch his legs. There was simply no way to get comfortable in the small space of his seat.
Smaller aircraft landed in the back of the airport, where most of the freight lines came in. There was a customs office right there, and each plane was inspected before anyone or anything was released. Jin unbuckled and grabbed his clipboard. He stretched for a moment, and then opened the hatch.
“We must stay on board until the customs officer has signed off on the cargo.” Jin sat down at the edge of the gangway and let his legs swing.
“What about my bag?” Alex asked.
“They won’t look. They are only interested in inspecting the cargo. Your bag is in the middle of all those boxes. They will test a few boxes from the front, a few from the rear, and then they will sign off and move on. I have an excellent reputation.”
“How long does it usually take?” Alex stood and stretched a bit, then paced from side to side, trying to walk off the pain in his legs.
“Not so long. There are only a few planes here today.”
The gangway creaked and Alex’s eyes turned toward the hatch. A heavyset Chinese man stood in the doorway, a clipboard in one hand and his hat in the other. He and Jin exchanged words and clipboards and then the customs officer began slitting open boxes.
Once he had inspected four boxes, he paused at a fifth, going so far as to remove the back from the television, checking inside for something. He nodded, satisfied, and then wrote something on his clipboard. Alex stayed casual. Jin knew to expect this and how to handle it so there should be nothing to worry about.
More words were exchanged and Jin turned to Alex and said, “He needs to see your passport.”
“Oh! Sure!” Alex whipped out his passport and presented it to the officer. Of course, his real name wasn’t on the form. For this trip, he was Donald Vance, living in South Korea on a work and education visa.
The officer stamped the passport and handed it back to Alex. “Thank you, Mr. Vance,” he said in heavily accented English.
A small truck drove up and a large man jumped out, walking purposefully toward the plane. Jin stepped toward Alex, but kept his eyes on the new arrival. “We must be very cautious now,” he hissed. “Don’t do anything unless I tell you.”
He spoke rapidly to the customs inspector, but his voice only carried far enough for Alex to catch a couple of words. Alex eyed his bag in the middle of the larger boxes, knowing that it would take him precious time to get to it and make some use of it if the situation turned violent.
“That’s Yau Sin,” Jin whispered. “Chinese Mafia. They run the inspection ports. You can get most anything in or out if you pay their fee.”
Yau pulled a semiautomatic pistol from a holster beneath his suit and pointed it at the inspection officer, directing him toward one of the televisions.
“If you don’t pay their fee,” Jin added, his voice hushed, “then very bad things happen to you.”
The inspector walked over to the TV he’d examined. He nodded to the back and Yau looked inside. He looked back up and without another word shot the inspection officer point-blank in the chest.
He raised the pistol and pointed it toward Jin and Alex. Alex knew he could never reach a weapon in time. Yau walked closer and pushed the pistol into Jin’s side.
“Leave the box, get rid of the body,” he said in Mandarin.
Jin nodded his understanding, never saying a word.
Yau slipped the gun back into its holster, crossed over to his truck, got in and drove off of the tarmac.
Alex looked at Jin and said, “What the hell was that all about?”
“The inspector hasn’t been paying them their fees. Nothing crosses the border without their okay.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing,” Jin said. “As soon as the truck gets here, we will have to unload the televisions. You will go with the driver when we are done. He is your asset for this trip and he knows far more about the facility than I do.”