John Locke - A Girl Like You

“I don’t know. Maybe ten seconds.”

“Run it for nine,” I say.

“Donovan. You don’t understand. This is not some Army test weapon that’s been used on an actual human being. I could be wrong about the ten seconds.”

“Doc, look at me.” He does. “You expect me to fork over a hundred million dollars based on two seconds’ worth of pain?”

“Two seconds should be more than sufficient. And anyway, I’m trying to protect my investment. If your brain turns to mush, you won’t be able to wire the money.”

“Give me nine seconds. I want my money’s worth.”

Doc Howard sighs. “Very well.” He takes what looks like a fancy wristwatch from his pants pocket, studies it a moment, then presses a button. The face opens up, and he says, “You’re going to feel a slight burning sensation.”

“Funny.”

He taps the device four times and I feel a bomb go off in my head. The pain is excruciating. No, it’s worse than that. It feels like…no. There are no words to express it. Example. Example. Example. Okay. If you lay me down on the floor, and take the largest drill you can find, say an inch in diameter, and you and drill a one-inch hole in the center of my forehead until you’ve created a deep cavity, then jam a funnel into it, and pour enough molten lava to fill the cavity, then take a hammer, and pound the lava till it’s cooled. Then heat two ice picks until they’re as hot as branding irons, and use the hammer to pound the red-hot ice picks into each of my eyes until they’ve gone all the way to the hilt—do all that, and you might have an inkling what the first second feels like.

The next eight are much worse.

When I come to, Doc Howard and I look at each other a minute. Then he says, “I can’t imagine how you endured that.”

I clear my throat, try to speak. Nothing comes out. I swallow a couple of times. Then say, “Is that all you got?”

He laughs. “You’re one of a kind, Donovan.”

“As you are,” I say.

“So what do you think about my offer? Is a hundred million a fair price?”

“It was a rough ride,” I admit. “But the pain was manageable. A few more seconds and I wouldn’t have felt anything anyway, so it’s not the worst way I can think of to die. But what I can’t abide is letting Darwin kill me any time it suits him, from anywhere in the world. If you can help me prevent that, then your offer is a bargain.”

“No hard feelings?” he says.

“You’re screwing Darwin, not me. And if he finds out you reset his code—”

“If he finds out, you’ll know it, and I’ll trust you to deal with it,” Doc Howard says.

“You better hope I do.”

“I’m betting my life on you.”

In a strange way, I’m flattered. I mean, sure, he’s gaining a hundred million dollars. But he also thinks I can handle Darwin, and all of Darwin’s resources, which makes me feel like the owner of Seabiscuit, going against War Admiral, knowing the fans have bet their life’s savings on the underdog.

“Doc, I’m not happy you put the chip in my brain, but I understand why you did it. I know you’re feathering your nest at my expense, but the truth is, I’m only giving you a small portion of the money I stole from someone else. So how can I blame you? We’re probably both getting tired of doing some of the things we’ve done. But I still need you to help me save Rachel, and I know there’ll be a hundred things I’ll need from you in the future. So I’d like to consider this payment a cost of doing business with you.

“Honestly?”

I shrug. “All honesty is contextual. But if you do everything I ask of you with regard to these Asprin people, especially the one we’re calling Paula, and you keep these results between the two of us, I’ll wire the money to your account.”

36.

It’s 9:00 p.m., and the only sleep I’ve logged since Sam’s “reveal” occurred at altitude as I criss-crossed the continent. Fourteen hours have passed since Doc Howard burned my brain for nine full seconds, and I’m still feeling the after-effects.

Callie and I are standing in the eighth-floor hallway of the Lucian-Jevere Hotel and Conference Center in Chicago. After checking for cameras, I stand out of view while Callie knocks on the door of Roger Asprin’s suite. It’s late, and Chicago’s a dangerous place, but Callie is Callie, and of course, Roger opens the door. She punches his throat hard enough to keep him from crying out, then pushes him back into his room as she enters. I slip in behind them and lock the door.

It’s just like old times. Roger can’t scream because I’ve injected his vocal chords with an anesthetic. I’ve got a tracheal tube kit open and ready to use in the event his neck swells enough to impair his oxygen supply.

“I know you can’t speak,” I say, “but you can hear and feel things.”

He shakes his head as if to indicate I’m wrong. Callie kicks him in the nuts and his eyes roll up in his head. He’d kick us if he could, but I’ve got his legs tied to either side of the desk chair I’ve placed in the center of his bedroom. Unlike Hector, Roger’s wearing underwear. He also sports a t-shirt, though not for long. I rip it off.

“You know what really hurts?” I say.

Then I show him.

Ten minutes later, tears are streaming from Roger’s bloodshot eyes. I say, “Roger, I know you’re in pain, probably the worst you’ve ever had to endure. But I promise you, everything I’ve done so far will seem like a day at the spa compared to what I will do, if you refuse to cooperate.”

I look at Callie. “You hungry?”

“I could eat a bite,” she says.

“Roger, we’re going to order room service. By the time we’re done, you’ll be able to whisper some answers.”

I’m not wild about the in-room dining options on the menu, but the Baked Penne Arribiatta looks okay. Callie wants the Caesar Salad, until I explain it includes white anchovies and a boiled egg.

“I don’t like hairy fish,” she says, “and boiled eggs do not belong in a Caesar salad.”

“I agree about the egg,” I say, “but I think you’ll like the anchovies.”

“Why’s that?”

“They’re marinated in white vinegar instead of salt cured and packed in oil, like regular anchovies. Of course, fresh are best, but where are you going to find those?”

“They can keep their albino anchovies,” she says. “Their little pink eyes give me the creeps.”

I wonder if I should explain these aren’t albino anchovies, then realize, who gives a shit? She doesn’t want the salad.

“How about the Braised Pork Shank and Black Forest Mushroom Risotto?” I say.

“Lips that touch pork shank shall never touch mine,” Callie says.

I hand her the menu. She reads it, frowning, until she suddenly smiles.

“What have you found?” I ask.

“The Kid’s Menu.”

“Chicken fingers? Pizza?”

“Nope. Strawberries and Rice Krispies. Call it in, Coleman.”

“Coleman?”

“From Trading Places .”

“Ah. Winthorpe’s butler.”

After the room service guy leaves, I open the door so we can keep an eye on Roger.

We enjoy our food in silence. When we’re finished, Callie says, “What sort of name is Asprin?”

“Nordic.”

“You are so full of shit.”

I shrug. “Busted.”

From the next room, Roger makes a hissing sound. His mouth is moving up and down like a fresh-caught bass out of water.

“Is that our cue?” Callie says.

“It is.”

37.

“ Who are you? What do you want? Why are you doing this to me? ” Roger Asprin whispers.

“I’m going to answer your questions in the order you asked them,” I say. “Who are we? I’m Donovan Creed, and this is Callie Carpenter. What do we want? Rachel Case.”

Roger’s eyes grow wide. He starts to speak. I hold up my hand to stop him. “Why are we doing this to you? Because you’re the only person in the world who can help us get Rachel back. But the real question you should be asking is this: what are we willing to do in order to get what we want? Because here’s the thing, Roger: we’ve got your wife. Callie, show him the video feed.”

Callie holds her cell phone where Roger can see Jane in the hospital bed at Sensory.

“You see how she’s fighting against the straps? She’s really angry, Roger. But soon she’s going to be very frightened, instead. You can save her, or you can watch her die a slow, painful death.”

“You don’t understand,” Roger whispers. “We’re saving mankind.”

“You don’t kidnap and kill people to save mankind,” I say. “You killed Rachel’s doctor. You tried to kill her caretaker. You want to save the world? Fine. Ask?”

“Ask?”

“Yeah, that’s right, asshole. You could’ve asked Rachel to help you.”

Roger swallows, clears his throat. His voice is starting to come back, but it’s hoarse.

“Cough a couple of times,” I say. “That should help.”

He does. “There are—” his voice cracks.

I hold up my hand again. “Take a minute. We can’t understand what you’re saying.”

He coughs a couple more times. Then says, “There are people in the world who would use her as a weapon. They could literally wipe out a significant percentage of the earth’s population.”

“Our government could do the same.”

“No. We’re saving the world. You have no idea. This is the breakthrough we’ve sought for more than 70 years.”

“Is curing the Spanish Flu worth dying for?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Is it worth watching your wife tortured to death?”

“If that’s your plan, I’d rather you kill me first. But yes, it’s worth Jane’s suffering. Except that it’s pointless.”

“I’m listening,” I say.

“There’s nothing I can do to help you, even if I wanted to.”

“Which you don’t.”

“Of course not.”

Callie and I exchange a glance. She accesses Bernard’s live feed, then positions it where Roger can see.

“Your son, Bernard,” I say.

“What’s happened to his leg ?” Roger yells.

“We cut it off. Shall we lop off one of his arms while you watch?”

Roger starts to cry.

“Callie, show him the Atlanta feed.”

She punches some keys on her cell phone. When the video comes up, she holds it in front of Roger’s face.

“That’s your daughter, Ellen’s house. Your son-in-law’s out of town on business. Ellen’s taking a bath right now, listening to music. Your granddaughter, Bug, is upstairs in her crib, sleeping soundly. A simple phone call changes all that.”

“Kill them all,” Roger says. “And kill me, too.”

“You’re not serious,” I say.

“I’ve devoted my entire life to finding a cure,” he says, through his tears. “You can torture, maim, and kill every person I hold dear. But I wouldn’t help you rescue Rachel Case even if I could. Because no matter what you do to me, or those I love, the greater good demands that a cure be made available to mankind. You have no idea what this disease will do when it resurfaces.”

“I like you, Roger, I really do. It’s dedicated people like you that help keep us safe. You make the world a better place. But make no mistake, I am going to kill you if I don’t get Rachel back. After I force you to watch your loved ones die. Because Rachel doesn’t deserve this. And neither do her unborn children.”

“How do you know about that?”

“Rachel’s husband is a genius. I told him about Rachel’s blood test, and about how your people killed her doctor, and within hours he came up with the answer.”