The Protocol: A Prescription to Die (21 page)

Chapter 65

It was Thursday morning.

Three days after the trio had left Barbara on the steps of Aequalis, soaked in tequila and topped off with a couple of rocks of crystal meth they’d found in Carl’s duffle bag. They had no idea that they were really just returning it to the one who gave it Carl in the first place. Eat had been scanning the newspapers and local news stations for the breaking story of an intoxicated Aequalis executive assaulting a police officer, but hadn’t found anything so far.

They were all watching events transpire from Eat’s BMW parked in the Aequalis parking lot. Andy was at the wheel.

He had everything on video.

Eat was now sitting at the kitchen table trying to get at least a modicum of work done, despite the fact that he was still working one-handed. He was getting very tired of trying to maneuver a pencil to type.

He looked at the calendar for the fifth time that morning; he had four more weeks before the cast came off. The itch was driving him crazy, and there wasn’t a wire hanger to be found so he reached for the fork he’d used for his breakfast, licked off the dregs of pancake syrup, and slowly pushed the tines between his arm and the cast.

Ecstasy.

Eat’s eyes were beginning to roll back into his head when his security alarm went off. The noise was deafening. Eat clicked his mouse on the security system icon on his laptop to display the logs, and quiet the claxon: the lock to the main door had been compromised. He clicked on the video screen, and reviewed the scenes from the cameras throughout the warehouse.

Even though they were all clear, he had a sense that something was amiss. Small hairs began to firm up on the back of his neck. His software had never made a false alarm.

He clicked on the video feed showing the front door, and zoomed in closer. The latch and deadbolt were smashed and, although the door appeared closed at first glance, it was bent and slightly open.

Eat pulled the fork out of his cast, and walked to the loft’s front door. He looked out of the fish-eye lens to the vestibule leading to the elevator and stairs. It too was clear. He could see that the elevator doors were open, and the car was waiting for him, precisely the way he had programmed them to be.

He looked at the GPS monitor.

Andy was still at the office.

Knowing that Andy was safe at her office, Eat opened the door slowly. Then, when everything seemed quiet, he opened it all of the way, and stepped into the atrium.

He didn’t see them coming. The fist made a crack against his face then another punch landed on his neck.

Eat was smothered in darkness.

Chapter 66

Eat wasn’t sure how long he’d been out. What he did know was that he was still at home, although sore, bloody, and lying face down on his couch. They had somehow tied his casted arm to his chest and his other arm was tied behind his back. He was stripped down to his boxer briefs.

Sexy wasn’t an appropriate adjective right now.

He looked over to the fireplace, and saw two men sitting. One was on the phone.

“He’s waking up now,” one man said then hung up.

Amazingly, Eat remained calm. He had seen this coming, he just didn’t know how or when. Nordstrom wasn’t the type to go away silently. He had to keep his wits about him if he was going to stay alive.

“Ah. Mother. Quiet,” he said as he feigned pain and tried to sit up. He had just told Mother to listen. To be on standby. To listen intently, record everyone, and everything but not verbally reply to him until specifically commanded to by him. Instead of a verbal response, Mother would flash a small green indicator light on the television to show her understanding.

He received a green flash.

Mother understood.

“Shut up,” said the man whose back was towards Eat. The man talked with a familiar lisp.

The lisping man turned around and faced Eat.

“I don’t think mommy can help you right now.”

He’d found Carl Titmueller. Or more correctly, Carl had found him.

“Hi Carl. Barbara’s been looking for you.”

Eat slowly turned his to face the other man. He was tall. Handsome. He had a two-day growth of scruff on his face.

“You,” Eat said then furrowed his eyebrows. “You look familiar.”

“That’s enough,” said the other man as he put up his hand to silence Carl.

He was dressed in a black suit that looked very expensive. It fit him perfectly. As he walked towards Eat, his coat flapped open, showing his holstered gun. He reached over to Eat, and pulled him upright.

Eat flinched as pain shot down his broken arm from the abrupt move. His fingers felt like they were going to burst from the pain and pressure.

“You were at the coffee shop,” said Eat.

The other man remained silent and unmoving. Carl remained sadistic and poked Eat’s cheek with his knife. A drizzle of blood appeared.

“And by Carl’s employer. When I was installing the cameras.”

The man nodded. Apparently impressed by Eat’s memory.

“Enough talking,” growled Carl.

Carl punched Eat’s arm, the one in the cast. Eat had been relatively stoic up to this point, but he howled in pain and thought he felt bone move and grind under the layers of acrylic and gauze.

“Enough!”

The other man’s command was instantly obeyed even though his voice didn’t rise one decibel in volume.

Carl backed down.

The intense pain in his arm subsided, but the throbbing continued. Eat braced the cast on the arm of couch and tried to catch his breath. Blood from the cut inflicted by Carl and his pocketknife dripped onto the leather.

Eat contemplated his next move.

He tried to focus his attention on the two men instead of the pain. One man was quiet with a gun. He was definitely the man in charge. Besides a knife, Eat had no idea what other tools Carl had. He just knew Carl was insane.

Both men were now standing over him. Looking down on him like two cats wondering what to do with their little mouse when they were finally done playing.

Chapter 67

Eat moved his head down, and rubbed his ear against his shoulder. “Mother. Zoom. Analyze.”

“We didn’t tell you that you could talk,” yelled Carl. Eat ducked as he saw the back of his hand swing towards him like a baseball bat.

Eat looked at the television. Mother sent him the signal he was waiting for: a green flash followed by blue. She had understood his command, and already had information waiting for him. He hoped he was seeing the flashes that Mother had intended and that they weren’t the result of Carl’s beating.

Carl sat down on the couch next to Eat. He balanced the tip of his knife on his index finger, tossed it up, and caught it with his other hand.

Eat was unimpressed.

Carl put the point of the blade against Eat’s breast, pressed, and pulled down.

Eat inhaled through his teeth. He was sure this was what it felt like to be burned with a hot fire poker. A trickle of blood ran down his chest. Some became tangled in his fluff of chest hair but most pooled in his belly button.

“We want all of your data. Everything,” commanded Carl.

Eat smiled, weakly, and then laughed bursts of air through his nose.

“You think this is funny?”

Eat closed his eyes. He had to remain calm, and try his best not to make these guys too mad too fast. “No. This is not funny. Not at all,” Eat said as he shook his head.

“Then why are you smiling?”

“Because you don’t get it.”

“What don’t we get?”

“I don’t want to disappoint you, but there is nothing to give. There’s not a briefcase with paper, or disks, or hard drives. This isn’t the eighties, or nineties, or the early two thousands. It’s all out there,” said Eat as he motioned his head towards the window. “It’s in the Cloud.”

The two men looked at him. Eat could tell they were trying to digest what he’d just said. Eat thought that the man in the suit understood. Carl, on the other hand, was lost in thought. Eat was sure that inside of his small little brain he was on overload.

“It’s sunny outside. I don’t care about no cloud, anyway. You better just tell us where it is,” he said as the put the tip of the knife on Eat’s right eyebrow.

The man in the suit, moved from where he’d been standing by the couch, and walked to the bookcases lining the wall next to the sliding glass door.

Carl was absolutely precious. Dangerous. But precious nonetheless. He hadn’t figured out the other guy yet. He was deliberate. Cautious.

Surely lethal.

“Out there,” he motioned with his head again. “It’s all digital. Understand? It’s everywhere. It’s the Internet. The digital Cloud. Get it?”

Carl looked at him confused. He saw the other man nod.

“There’s no containing it anymore and that’s what your bosses don’t like.”

“Let’s just kill him Frank. That’s what they want anyway.”

Eat stored the name in his memory.

“So your name is Frank?” said Eat.

Frank didn’t say anything, but instead reached for his phone. Evidently he wanted to let whomever sent him here know of the situation.

“Umm. Frank?” Eat said ignoring Carl. “Before we make any rash decisions, there’s something you need to know.”

Frank put down his phone, and turned his attention to Eat. Carl wound his fist up again.

“Stop,” said Frank.

Carl put his fist away for the time being.

“Mother. Replay with audio.”

“Yes. Eat.”

The television flickered on and a video began to replay on the screen. It was the video capture from the second the loft’s alarm sounded.

“Mother. Fast forward sixty-three seconds.”

The video froze, and started again a few seconds before Eat opened his door, and walked out into the atrium. He was able to see exactly what had happened while he was unconscious. Both of their faces were clearly evident on the video feed.

Eat laughed as the video showed Carl eating from the bag of chocolate chip cookies while he stripped him of his clothes and hauled him to the couch. He also noticed that Frank seemed very interested in the collection of first editions he had displayed in his bookcase.

“Whoa. You guys are impressive. Did you like the cookies? You seem to be interested in my collection, Frank. I have a first edition Canterbury Tales. It’s my favorite,” he said to Frank. “Want to see it?”

“You can’t bribe us. We don’t want no tails from any dead cranberries anyway,” said Carl.

“It even has some of Chaucer’s scribbled notes on it. It’s incredible.”

Frank stood looking down at him. Then looked over at the case. Silent.

“Mother. Report and hold.”

“Yes. Eat.”

“Who was that?” asked Carl.

“You have to see this, guys. My computer is great. I call her Mother, as you have probably figured out. She does everything for me, and can do all sorts of cool things. She’s an expert at facial recognition. Mother. Play detailed findings with audio.”

A video slideshow began to play on the television. A picture of Frank appeared.

Mother narrated.

“Frank Ignacious Allen. Born September 3, 1968. Social Security Number is 899-11-5511. Currently residing in Allentown, Pennsylvania. Mother, Karen, is deceased. Father, Jacob, retired living in Phoenix, Arizona. Married to Rebecca Gail Allen. Born July 23, 1972. Children Jeremy Frank born May 11, 1992 and Laura Dee born October 14, 1994”

Carl laughed and pointed at Frank.

“Your middle name is Ignacious?”

Eat and Frank ignored the troll.

“Very good, Mother. Has the data been uploaded?”

“Yes. Eat. Records have been stored. Ready for distribution.”

“And the video?”

“Yes, Eat. Video is ready.”

Eat turned his attention to the men in his room. He had temporarily regained control of the game, and decided to lead with a high trump card.

Not the highest.

Just high.

“Remember what I said about information? Mother is ready to upload the video of your assault up to the Internet along with your bios, and email links to your family, Frank. Do you think they know what you do for a living?” Eat paused for emphasis, “Unless, of course, I tell her otherwise.”

Carl laughed.

“You ain’t got nothing on us,” he said as he punched Eat in the stomach.

Eat wretched, coughed, and doubled over as much as his body would allow. Bound arms and casts prevented much movement on his part.

“Mother. Inquiry,” said Eat with a miniscule, squeak-like voice.

“Ready.”

“National sex offenders list. Access.”

In a few seconds, Mother replied.

“Access achieved.”

“Prepare upload of Frank Ignacious Allen. Include recent photograph. Also upload to Allentown media outlets and local government databases.”

Eat looked over at Frank. “Frank?”

Eat received only a blank stare.

“Mother dist . . . “

“Stop,” said Frank.

Eat smiled.

“Mother, delay.”