Disturb (19 page)

“HI, THEENA.”

“We want to help you, David. We want you to get better.”

“I’M TOUCHED.”

“I mean it. I know that this experiment hurt you. It’s not your fault.”

“I’M GLAD YOU THINK SO. OPEN THE DOOR, WE’LL TALK.”

Theena threw Bill a desperate look. He joined her by the intercom.

“David? It’s Dr. Bill May from the FDA.”“

“HELLO, BILL. HOW’S THE INVESTIGATION GOING?”

“It’s over. N-Som won’t get approval in this country.”

“TOO BAD. WE’VE ALL WORKED SO HARD. MANNY WILL BE CRUSHED.”

“Can we speak to Manny?”

“I DON’T KNOW WHERE HE IS.”

Bill took a shot. “David, you’re Manny. He’s inside you. You’re the same person.”

No response. The silence stretched. Theena tapped Bill on the shoulder.

“Is it smart to confuse him like that?”

“As far as we know, Manny’s not a killer. Only his alter ego is. Maybe a catharsis will snap him back to normal.” Bill hit the intercom button. “Manny? Are you there? Hello? Manny?”

“I JUST PICKED UP A NEW CD. WANNA HEAR IT?”

A groan came over the loudspeaker. It was feminine, undeniably sexual, and Bill could identify it from experience.

Theena looked mortified. The female voice was joined by a male one, the sounds of two people making love filling the entire underground complex.

Bill was confused. Was it a recording? How?

“I REALLY NEEDED THAT.”

Theena’s voice. That was what she’d said after she and Bill had sex the first time. But the voice that answered didn’t belong to Bill.

“MARRY ME, THEENA.”

It was Manny. Out of breath, vulnerable.

“YOU’RE SO SWEET, MANNY.”

Theena blushed furiously. She lowered her head, refusing to look at Bill.

“PLEASE, THEENA. YOU’RE THE ONLY REASON I STAY HERE. THE N-SOM—SOMETIMES IT MAKES ME CRAZY.”

“YOU KNOW IT’S SAFE, MANNY. DR. NIKOS AND I WOULDN’T MAKE YOU DO THIS IF THERE WERE ANY POSSIBLE DANGER.”

Theena put a hand over her face. The playback ended, and the room got eerily silent.

“Nikos told me to sleep with Manny. To keep him on the project.”

“Even though it was hurting him?”

Bill felt bad right after it left his mouth. They both knew what her mistakes were, and he shouldn’t keep rubbing her nose in them. But hearing her with Manny stung. It was more than jealousy. Being with Theena had made Bill feel special, and he’d hoped the feeling was mutual.

She started to cry, but caught herself. Bill could sense the courage it took her to meet his gaze. “What you and I did, yesterday…”

“Theena, don’t.”

“I need to say it, Bill. For what it’s worth, no one made me do that. I did it on my own.”

They stared into each other’s eyes. Maybe it was ego, maybe it was gullibility, but even after being lied to so many times, Bill believed her.

“DO YOU STILL THINK THERE’S NO POSSIBLE DANGER, THEENA?”

Theena jerked her head up at the speaker, and then launched herself at the intercom.

“Manny, I know you can hear me. You and David are the same person. I know you’re inside him, somewhere.”

“IT SOUNDED LIKE HE WAS INSIDE YOU A MINUTE AGO. DID YOU ENJOY THE RECORDING? I GOT IT FROM THE LATE DR. FLETCHER. IT WAS MARKED ‘MANNY AND THEENA #7’. YOU SURE KEEP BUSY.”

“Dammit, Manny! You’re not a killer! You’re my friend, and you can fight this!”

They waited for a response. None came.

“Manny?”

Silence. Had Theena gotten through to him? Was he in some grand conflict with his other self, fighting for control.

BAM!

The knock on the door startled them both. They exchanged a frightened glance.

“Theena? Bill? It’s Manny.”

His tone was meek and submissive. Theena put her hip against the dresser and began to push.

“That’s him. We can open the door.”

Bill held her back. “He could be faking it.”

“How do we know?”

Bill wished he’d paid more attention to psych class in college. He knew that all DIDs had a core personality. Manny was the core. Did the core ever know about the other identities?

Bill didn’t think so. He recalled that old Sally Field movie,
Sybil.
She didn’t know that people existed inside her.

But it went beyond that—Manny and David thought they were separate people.

“If that’s Manny, how did he know we’re in here? David knows we’re in his room. But if Manny just woke up, he wouldn’t know what was going on. Right?”

Another knock. “Theena? Bill? I’m okay now. Open up, I’m scared.”

Theena edged the desk back into place.

“We can’t, Manny. We don’t know if we can believe you.”

The room shook with a massive WHUMP. Bill and Theena jumped back and stared with horror at the fire ax blade poking through the door. It worked itself free, and David winked at them through the newly made hole.

“Hi, guys.”

Bill spun around, frantically looking for something he could use as a weapon. He picked up a floor lamp with a heavy brass bottom, ripping the cord out of the wall.

David chopped away at the door, making fast progress. The upper half was quickly full of holes, and every whack connected more of them together. He soon had decent sized opening.

Bill moved closer, holding the lamp like a baseball bat. When David reached his arm through to push back the dresser, Bill swung.

He connected solidly with David’s shoulder, the metal lamp vibrating in his hands at impact.

David howled like a kicked dog, his arm snaking back through the opening. They watched him move away from the door, out of view.

Bill’s breath was coming out in pants. His whole body shook with adrenaline. Theena put her hand on his back and he jumped in surprise.

“I think he’s gone.”

Bill tried to open his hands, but they refused to let go of the lamp. He took a cautious step towards the opening, trying to get a better view of the hallway.

“Is he there?”

Bill couldn’t see David, but he wasn’t going to stick his head through the hole to be sure.

“I don’t know.”

“We should make a run for it.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“THAT WAS A NICE SHOT, DOC.”

Again, they both were startled by the intercom.

“I THINK MY SHOULDER IS DISLOCATED. IF I ASK REAL NICE, WILL YOU OPEN THE DOOR AND FIX IT FOR ME?”

Bill saw no reason to answer.

“I THOUGHT DOCTORS TOOK AN OATH TO HELP PEOPLE.”

Theena pulled a drawer from the dresser and moved to smash it against the intercom. Bill held her back.

“We may need it later.”

“I can’t take his mocking.”

“I know.”

She began to tremble.

“This is my fault. This is all my fault.”

Bill managed to set the lamp down. He reached for her and they held each other.

“WHY DON’T YOU JUST OPEN UP, GET IT OVER WITH? I PROMISE I’LL MAKE IT QUICK AND PAINLESS.”

David broke out in a hysterical giggle. It was the distilled sound of homicidal madness, and scared Bill out of his wits.

“WAIT, JUST WAIT A SEC, I KNOW I CAN SAY THAT WITH A STRAIGHT FACE.”

Bill closed his eyes. This was a nightmare. No—worse than a nightmare. You could wake up from those.

“LOOK, GUYS. NO ONE IS GOING TO HELP YOU. I’VE KILLED EVERYONE ELSE. DR. FLETCHER, DR. TOWNSEND, DR. O’NEIL… ALL DEAD. YOU’RE THE LAST ONES.”

“How about Barry upstairs?” Bill was running out of ideas. “Will he check on us when we don’t come up?”

Theena frowned. “Security is used to us staying down here overnight. David’s right. No one can help us.”

“YOU DON’T HAVE ANY FOOD, AND EVENTUALLY YOU’LL GET TIRED AND HAVE TO SLEEP. I DON’T HAVE THAT PROBLEM. JUST ACCEPT YOUR FATE.” Another insane giggle.

Bill held Theena tighter.

Theena’s voice was barely a whisper. “We’re going to die down here, aren’t we Bill?”

“No. Of course not. We’ll figure something out.”

But Bill had a horrifying feeling that she was right.

T
he gun felt heavy in Captain Halloran’s pocket. It was an old Smith and Wesson Rimfire, a throwaway piece, untraceable. A 22 LR wasn’t his preferred weapon of choice—when Halloran walked the beat, he’d always used something with more stopping power. But at close range, it should be fine.

He was oddly at ease with himself for a man about to commit murder.

The way Halloran saw it, he had no choice. He was in over his head, much too far to back out. Rothchilde had put him in an untenable position. A man of his rank couldn’t allow himself to be connected with any of these murders. Prison terrified Halloran. Cons weren’t nice to cops on the inside.

So it was a matter of self preservation. Rothchilde was getting too careless, ordering murders like they were pizzas. He had to be taken down. The two hundred and fifty k wasn’t the motivating factor. It was just a bonus.

At least, that’s what Halloran kept telling himself.

He’d gotten into the mansion using the key Rothchilde had given him—the DruTech President didn’t want his servants to know how often Halloran came and went.

Rothchilde’s paranoia had served Halloran well. The icing on the cake was Rothchilde’s office—afraid of being overheard, he’d had it soundproofed. The guy was practically begging for someone to shoot him.

Halloran let himself in after a one-two knock.

“How did it go with the Schaumburg police?”

Classic Rothchilde. No greetings. No pleasantries.

“Fine. Where’s the money?”

Rothchilde offered one of his frequent condescending smiles. “It’s in my wall safe, of course. Do you think I’m going to let you just walk out of here with a quarter of a million dollars?”

Halloran didn’t like where this was going.

“How am I supposed to give it to him?”

“You don’t have to. I already made arrangements.”

The cop’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I called up Schaumburg myself. Strangely, the Captain there doesn’t even know you. But he was willing to look the other way for only thirty thousand.”

Halloran took out the piece. “I’m through messing around, Albert. Just give me the cash.”

Rothchilde continued smiling. “Frankly, Captain, I’m surprised. I didn’t think you had the stones to cross me.”

“The safe, Albert.”

“Isn’t it your intention to kill me anyway? Why should I also let you take my money?”

Halloran’s face twitched. He could feel the sweat climb down the back of his neck. The moment was getting away from him. Halloran had killed a man before, in the line of duty, clear self-defense. Killing in cold blood was a horse of a different color. If he was going to do it, it had to be now, before he lost his nerve. The money wasn’t the motivating factor. This was self-preservation.

Halloran thumbed off the safety.

“Before you shoot me, maybe you should know about my insurance.”

Rothchilde glanced up at the corner of the room. Halloran followed his gaze.

A video camera winked down at them from the corner.

“A rich man like me needs security.”

Halloran snarled. “Where’s the VCR?”

“I don’t think I’m going to tell you.”

It kept getting worse and worse. Halloran had spent his career talking to criminals who couldn’t understand how their careful plans had gone so wrong. He was watching the same thing happen to himself.

“I could make you tell me.”

“Perhaps. Or you could continue to work for me, and I’ll give you a nice bonus. Put away the gun.”

Halloran didn’t move. This had gone very sour, and the very last thing he wanted to do was give Rothchilde the upper hand again. But what else could he do?

Halloran shoved the gun back into his pocket.

“Good cop. I’ve got your bonus in here.”

Rothchilde opened his desk drawer and stuck his hand inside. Alarm bells went off in Halloran’s head. Rothchilde was moving too fast, and the expression on his face was wicked, almost bloodthirsty. Halloran dug back into his pocket, pulling at the 22, getting it caught on the fabric.

Rothchilde’s hand came out holding a large 9mm. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t talk. He aimed it at Halloran’s face and pulled the trigger.

Maybe he’s not a good shot.

That was Halloran’s last thought, and it went out the back of his head with a good portion of his frontal lobe.

Rothchilde watched the cop pitch over, a fine mist of vaporized blood settling to the ground after him.

It had been like shooting skeet at the club. Aim, squeeze, score. Easier, even; a clay pigeon was small and fast, not fat, stationary, and stupid.

Rothchilde stood up and walked around the desk, surveying the damage. There was a black, gooey hole where Halloran’s left eye had been. His other eye was wide open, still registering shock. It delighted Rothchilde so much that he located his Polaroid and took a picture.

When the novelty wore off, he realized that this had to be dealt with. There were stains, and as time wore on there was sure to be an odor. He picked up the phone and dialed the familiar number.

“Yeah.”

“Carlos, when you’re finished at DruTech, I need you and Franco at my place.”

“I got hit with a cactus.”