Chapter 86
In her dream, Heather walked along a lofty ledge, barely wide enough for her feet to maintain their purchase. Heavy clouds filled the sky overhead, offering so little light that she could barely see the path. To the left of the trail, the world dropped away into darkness. Ahead of her, the trail continued to narrow as it rounded the cliff face.
She turned so that her back pressed against the hard rock surface that rose up to meet the sky. Taking a deep breath to slow her racing heart, Heather had just decided to turn back when the tip of a sharp spear jabbed her left arm, prodding her forward once again. Looking along the back trail, she could dimly make out a cloaked figure motioning for her to keep moving. Not wanting to be poked again, Heather turned away from him, carefully placing one foot in front of the other.
Who was the man? Where was he taking her?
As if in answer to her question, a soft voice whispered from the darkness. Heather paused to listen. There it was again, that familiar voice.
“Heather? Please answer. I need you.”
Jennifer. But where was she? As Heather struggled to see her friend, the sharp point jabbed her arm again.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she yelled, swinging her arm out to knock the spear away.
Heather’s eyes fluttered as a blindingly bright light shown in her face. Her arm’s felt heavy, but she struck out again, this time connecting with the man’s torso.
A surprised cry accompanied a crash of metal and breaking glass. Suddenly memory came flooding back. She was on the metal bed in Dr. Rodriguez’s lab. A small trickle of blood leaked from her left arm where a needle had been torn out by the falling IV rack. Heather sat up, although a wave of dizziness threatened to leach away her consciousness.
Six feet away, Dr. Rodriguez regained his feet, his white lab coat splattered with a gray fluid, his face a mask of surprise. “How the hell are you awake already?”
Without waiting for a response, the man lunged toward her. But this time, the anger that bubbled up inside Heather produced an adrenaline surge that coursed through her veins, clearing away the grogginess that had chained her limbs. As the scientist’s hand closed on her left ankle, she lashed out with her other foot. A sizzle like an electric shock cascaded through her neurally enhanced musculature, the force of the kick launching the scientist off the floor, sending him spinning into the steel cabinets with another loud crash.
Dr. Rodriguez’s body went limp, sliding down onto the floor like a rag doll. Heather slid off the bed, once again assaulted by a wave of dizziness that forced her to clutch onto the railing. Behind her, she heard the sound of the trapdoor being raised.
“Shit,” she breathed, turning toward this new threat.
“Heather?” Jennifer’s voice called out. “Are you down there?”
A massive wave of relief flooded her body. “I’m here!”
The sound of footsteps on the stairs preceded Jennifer’s entrance into the room, but not by much. Her friend’s headlong flight came to a sliding stop as her eyes went wide with surprise.
“Jesus! What happened here?”
Heather rushed forward, throwing her arms around Jennifer’s body in a hug that was returned in full measure. As she released her bear hug, the abridged version of the story bubbled from Heather’s lips in a rush of words that left her breathless.
“Did he inject you with that goo in the IV?”
Heather shook her head. “I woke up before he turned it on. See? There’s no fluid in the IV tube.”
“Is he dead?” Jennifer asked, pointing at the motionless form of Dr. Rodriguez.
Heather’s chest constricted. “I don’t know. I guess we should check.”
Jennifer inhaled deeply, then strode forward to kneel down beside the scientist, her fingers sliding to his neck.
“Careful,” Heather warned. “He might be faking.”
“For his sake, he better not be. I’d love to kick the shit out of him myself.”
“Well?”
Jennifer rose to her feet again. “He’s just out cold.”
Looking around at the mess in the room, Jennifer turned toward Heather. “So what do we do now?”
Heather let the possible courses of action roll through her mind, each accompanied by its success probability. After several seconds, she turned to the computer desk, retrieving her PDA from where Dr. Rodriguez had laid it. A quick examination showed that he had not yet deleted the files from its memory stick. The final probability numbers clicked into place in her head.
“Slide on a pair of these latex gloves and help me wipe down every place we touched. I can play it back in my head so we won’t miss anything.”
Moving quickly, Heather and Jennifer rapidly removed all traces of their presence, including the IV needle that had been inserted in her arm. Then, with one last look around, Heather picked up the telephone that sat beside Dr. Rodriguez’s computer and dialed 9-1-1. Covering the receiver with a wadded rag and gravelling her voice, she spoke only two words: “Police emergency.”
Leaving the receiver off the hook, Heather turned and led Jennifer from the room and up the stairs.
“Now what?” asked Jennifer as they climbed on their bikes and pedaled away.
“The police will find enough evidence to stop the Rho Project.”
“What if they don’t? What if Stephenson manages to cover it up? Dr. Rodriguez knows you copied the data.”
“Doesn’t matter. As soon as we get back to the house, we’ll uplink the data on my memory stick to the NSA. Too many people will know about this to cover the thing up.”
As they pedaled toward home, the sound of distant sirens echoed through the streets.