Suddenly, as she was passing a pair of twenty-foot cacti that had grown at the edge of an abandoned lot, Kelly was sure she was not alone in the morning calm. She saw no movement, and she could only hear her own footfalls and thudding heartbeat; only instinct told her that she was being followed.
* * *
Diego Salvez spotted his prey just coming across a vacant lot. Salvez, a bulky man with bulging muscles that were the result of a ten-year stay at San Quentin, kept the young woman in his sights as he picked up his pace. Despite his size, Salvez was remarkably fast with great endurance. As she crossed the road and headed back toward Scottsdale Avenue, he pulled a small metal box from his pocket and pointed it in the direction of the woman. With his hand wavering, he released a tiny dart less than the size of a human hair. Now, he stopped and watched the tiny screen on the box, as the dart, moving at incredible speed, found its target.
* * *
Kelly Frock felt the initial sting and slapped at it with her right hand. It felt like a bee had flown into her and stung her neck. Slowing slightly, Kelly pawed at the spot, making sure the bee wasn't attached. Unable to find anything, she at first picked up her pace again, anxious to finish her run. At the same instant, she realized that the feeling that someone was following her was no longer there.
Just her imagination.
Within a thirty-second span, Kelly felt overwhelmed with a sense of dread. Pain racked her chest and back, and her head felt like it was under a blowtorch. She came to an abrupt stop in front of a donut shop and staggered toward the entrance. She was in the throes of respiratory arrest and her wheezing breaths were not enough to sustain her any longer. She collapsed at the foot of the shop's front door, dead before her face slammed against the concrete.
Chapter 25
Josh Logan arrived at the
Ford Institute and paused. It was very late--Kelly Frock had been quite insistent on the time--and the facility was almost unnaturally silent. He listened to the silence for a minute; the faint sounds surrounding the building, more than likely something to do with the facility's mechanical systems.
Josh pulled the bill of his ball cap down, glancing around nervously. It was Sunday and all the administrative staff were gone, so there was nothing to worry about.
Nothing.
Exiting his car, Josh checked his watch.
Where the hell was Kelly?
Josh waited twenty more minutes, and then decided Kelly had changed her mind. He couldn't say he blamed her; after all what they were going to do was not without risk of serious consequences if they got caught. But he was here and he desperately needed to get those files. He zipped his dark jacket, hoping to create stealth, and darted across the parking lot to the rear entrance. The door he wanted was easy to identify:
'DELIVERIES ONLY'
was emblazoned across it in huge, bold green letters.
He pressed himself against the wall, hidden from sight behind a half-dead palm, and slipped his I.D. card from his pocket. Josh swiped his card through the reader attched to the wall, punched in his code, and the gleaming stainless-steel doors to Ford opened with a whisper of well-machined metal. The hall exhaled the scent of fresh urethane-wax and warm electronics.
Everything was quiet.
Still, Josh hesitated. His eye strayed down the long corridor and to the hall beyond. He felt a small tingle of apprehension. Trying to shake it off, he stepped inside and crept down the hall, his sneakers making a
squeak-squeak
sound on the bright linoleum tile.
At the first door, he paused, almost instinctively. He felt a tingling sensation on the back of his neck, as if someone were watching him. He turned, but the dimly lit corridor behind him was empty.
Stop being paranoid.
He strode down the hallway, past offices and labs, all locked up tight, then hesitated again. He could have sworn he'd heard the soft scrape of a shoe on the tile. He waited for another footfall, for someone to round the corner, but nothing happened. He swore to himself; it was probably a guard making rounds.
Gathering his courage, he strode on, approaching the double set of doors leading to the vast medical records room. He paused at the doors, thinking he had heard another sound behind him.
He waited, listening.
This was ridiculous.
He looked around and saw the gleaming metal doors of medical records. He stepped over to them and as quietly as possible swiped his key card in the magnetic reader. The security light blinked from red to green and the door softly unlatched. He pushed it open, stepped inside, and closed it behind him, hearing the electronic click of the lock reengage.
There was a small wire-mesh window in the door, through which Josh could see into the corridor beyond. Now he could see anyone coming in or out.
A minute passed and then a sudden shadow fell across the pane. A face appeared in profile, then turned with a snap and gazed in the window.
Jolted, Josh stepped back into the darkness of a nearby closet, knocking down a box of pens as he pressed himself into it. He was certain the man in the window hadn't seen him, but he wasn't taking any extra risks. He stood perfectly still, cloaked in absolute darkness. Suddenly, there was a soft brushing noise, a scraping, a faint click. Josh couldn't believe it.
Someone was trying to get in.
He knew that medical records was off limits to everyone except the technicians who worked there, and on-duty surgeons, should they need access to a patient's records in an emergency surgery. But today the techs were off, and there were no surgeries going on. Kelly Frock had told him that the OR's were having new equipment installed and no one was operating until Wednesday.
So who was pawing at the door?
Someone was still working the knob, making various clicking and scraping noises. It was unbelievable.
More soft sounds, a sharp click--and then Josh stared in disbelief.
The security light on the door had just turned green.
Chapter 26
Terry Brooks' desk stood in
front of her picture window, which afforded a stunning night time mountain view from her condo on Phoenix Avenue and Yucca Drive in Scottsdale. She closed the curtains to avoid the pleasant distraction while she was writing. At the moment she was drafting the story that she'd dreamed about for the past three years. Not only would she make a fortune off of it, she'd also prove once and for all what she had known all along. She was a great reporter. The Ford Clinic story was Marty Branigan's brainchild, but now, out of desperation, she was making it
her
story.
As she typed on her MacBook, Terry heard the creak of a door somewhere in the apartment. She ignored the sound.
She was on a roll, that rare time when every word she wrote fell beautifully in to place. The Ford Institute story had huge ramifications, with scientific and ethic and religious implications. Potentially, it was more explosive than the original expose by Marty, that Ford was somehow aligned with the Aurora Life Extension Foundation.
And now she was going to tell it.
It was too bad that Marty Branigan had confided in her. Terry needed a story to keep her job and if Marty was dragging her feet on it, well, to hell with her. She'd write it herself and give it to the editor. Then they'd see she was worthy of her job. Hell, she'd probably get a promotion. It was so ground shaking she didn't mind lying to her editor about her sources.
Terry imagined her story running in a major newspaper. If her editor gave her any crap, she'd just pitch it to the Washington Post, or maybe even the New York Times. Big Dollars!
Terry drained her third cup of coffee of the morning and pushed aside her cat, Freckles. She indented and prepared to type the next paragraph.
She heard a shuffle behind her in the hallway.
"Go on, Freckles, get some food and be a good kitty for mommy. I'll play with you in a little while."
Terry Brooks felt a movement of air then something cold and sharp against her neck.
"Hello, Terry," said a man's voice. "I see you've been a bad girl." Terry Brooks exhaled silently and her back went slack.
She squelched the impulse to run or cry out. She could feel the blade against her neck veins and feared that if she turned, she would be cut.
"What do you want?" she struggled to ask.
"Want? I don't want anything except for you to stop writing these lies you're writing. Do you know who I am?"
She turned slightly as the assailant eased the pressure off the cold steel against her neck.
Terry Brooks felt mortal fear shoot through her body.
If he's going to let me see him, I'm dead.
Oh God!
Oh no!
She turned slightly.
"Am I supposed to know you?" she asked, feigning ignorance.
"Don't play games, Terry. Now tell me, where'd you get all your information? You seem to know an awful lot about me."
Terry Brooks talked until her mouth was as dry as the desert outside her window.
"That's good. So Marty Branigan is behind all of this?"
Brooks pursed her lips trying to get saliva in her mouth. "Yes, I'm just typing it for her. I promise I'll throw it all away if you want. Delete it all."
"Don't bother, Terry. I'll do it for you. But first..."
Terry Brooks felt the assailant pick her up by her hair and heard her windpipe pop as he drew the blade across her throat. He let her drop down to the desk, her nearly severed head now resting on her laptop. The assailant jerked the computer out from under her and dropped it into a plastic bag, then tied it shut.
"Thanks for the interest in my work, Ms. Brooks. I'll be sure to give your regards to Marty Branigan when I see her. Which, by the way, will be
very
soon."
Chapter 27
Josh Logan
stood frozen with fear in the office supply closet. The door was cracked just enough to see out. He waited, trying to keep his breathing under control, then looked out into the semi-darkened office of medical records. The room was partially lit by small wall lights and Josh could see the outline of a man's features. A wide dark face, prominent cheekbones, a head of thick greased back hair, and a pair of lips that looked like a grim line.
This guy was no Ford employee.
Josh hardly breathed. There was something about the man's utter stealth that frightened him. His movements were calm and determined as he moved from one file drawer to the other, obviously looking for a certain document. Josh couldn't believe this gut had broken in.
Or did he?p>
Josh wondered if he might be some crony of Hench's.
Finally, the man yanked a file from the drawer he was ransacking and opened it. He nodded to himself, then jammed the file inside his shirt. Closing the file drawer, and glancing around, the man at last moved toward the exit. Josh's heart was beating so hard he wondered if the guy could hear it. When the door clicked closed and the red security light came on, Josh slumped to the floor, exhausted.
Chapter 28
Marty Branigan had avoided two
speed traps in the last fifty miles, and was speeding toward Scottsdale in record time, even for her legendary foot. She had so much to tell Josh, she didn't know where to start. She knew he'd be skeptical, but this time she had actual proof. The document the nurse had given her was authentic. Marty had taken the time to check it out with the local medical examiner and there was no doubt about its authenticity. Mary had read the last paragraph over a half a dozen times, amazed each time she read it.
One thing she knew for sure, the girl had not died at Tucson General Hospital as she'd been told.
In fact, she hadn't died at all!
Where was she then?
A wave of terror suddenly flooded her body that nearly caused her to wreck her car.
Hench.
Chapter 29
Josh Logan checked his watch.
Just past 8 A.M. Kelly Frock should be pulling into the parking garage any minute. Josh waited a few more minutes and then felt his anxiety begin to grow. Kelly was always very punctual. In the last twenty-four hours, she had failed to show up, first for their meeting last night, now, even worse, for work. Nine came and went and there was still no sign of Kelly. Waiting had grown intolerable. Josh climbed back in his car and slipped the files he'd obtained the previous night into the glove-box. He'd intended on giving them to Kelly to return, but now that plan seemed destined for failure. More importantly, he wanted to find Kelly. He drove directly out of Ford and straight toward her house.
Arriving fifteen minutes later, Josh found no sign of Kelly's car in her driveway. Josh walked up and knocked on the door. When there was no answer, he went to the back and peered into the kitchen window. A cup and saucer sat on the small dinette in the kitchen. Other than that, the house was just as neat and tidy as Josh remembered. He was sure Kelly would not have left without as much as a short explanation. And if she didn't leave on her own accord, that only left one possibility. Something had happened to her. Something no doubt involving Ford.
As Josh contemplated the various scenarios surrounding Kelly's disappearance, it was easy to conclude that Hench would not be holding her hostage at Ford. There was no way he would introduce his other life--the baseness of it--into the seemingly ideal existence he showed the world at large.
The answer came to him with such clarity that he cursed himself for not having thought of it sooner.
* * *
Marty swung into Josh's condo parking lot and nearly ran over him as she pulled in. He was just getting out of his car and took a few tentative steps back as her car jerked to a stop. Marty jumped out and ran over to Josh.
"Marty, you trying to run me down?"
"I'm sorry Josh, it's just ... sorry, I'm out of breath. My asthma." Marty yanked an inhaler from her purse and puffed twice on it. "There ...
better.
Now, can we go inside, Josh? You're not gonna believe what I found out."