Disturb (3 page)

B
ill was in the shower when the phone rang. He let the machine pick it up, holding the curtain partially open to hear who it was.

“Bill, this is Theena Boone…”

Bill grabbed a towel and hurried out of the bathroom. The fact that Theena was attractive and single wasn’t lost on him, but Bill tried to rise above that and convince himself his concern was professional. She’d just lost her father.

“Theena?”

“Bill. Hello. I… was wondering what time you were stopping by DruTech today.”

The question caught him completely by surprise.

“I wasn’t planning to, actually. I figured, because of yesterday—how are you holding up?”

“I’m strong, Bill. Dad raised me that way. He also wouldn’t want this to interfere with our work. N-Som was his dream. Now that he’s gone, it’s even more important that I finish what he began.”

Tough lady. Bill wondered how much of it was genuine, and how much was bravado.

“How’s Manny?”

“Surprisingly well, for fifteen stab wounds. Collapsed lung, perforated small intestine, internal bleeding. He needed over sixty stitches, but is listed as stable.”

“Have the police found anything?”

“Manny said there were two attackers, both with ski masks on. No leads yet. Are you coming?”

Bill glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “I can be there by ten, if that’s okay.”

“That’s fine. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

Theena hung up. Bill dried off and went into the bedroom. He noticed a spring in his step that hadn’t been there a few minutes ago. Being honest with himself was a trait Bill nurtured, and he knew he was excited to be seeing Theena again so soon.

Admitting it brought guilt. He glanced at his wife’s side of the closet, full of clothes. Kristen’s presence was still there; her plants that Bill carefully maintained, their wedding pictures on the walls, the Hummel figurines she collected. The casual observer couldn’t have guessed that the condo had been occupied by a single man for more than a year.

Bill dressed in his best suit, a dark blue Armani pinstripe. He could tie a Windsor knot with one hand in complete darkness, but he still preferred the solace of a mirror. There was a tinge of red in his blue eyes; something he hadn’t been able to get rid of since Kristen got ill. He used some Visine, then combed his light brown hair and noted that he’d need a trim soon. After a quick electric shave he was in his Audi and on the way to DruTech Industries.

The weather was unusually tame by Chicago standards, especially this late in the fall. At every crosswalk there was at least one person in shorts, and the few jackets Bill saw were draped over shoulders rather than being worn. The sun felt good on his face for a while, but he eventually pulled down the visor when the glare became too much.

He played stop and go, eventually reaching I-90 and the path to the suburbs. Traffic was hellish, made even worse by the omnipresent construction, which had closed one lane off with orange cones. Bill had lived in the Windy City his entire life, and he’d never been on the Kennedy Expressway without suffering some kind of delay. The trip took seventy minutes, ten of which were spent on the off ramp to Schaumburg.

DruTech occupied an impressive five story building off a frontage road parallel to the expressway. It was sandwiched between a water reclamation plant and an AM radio station. Bill parked in a lot that was nearly empty. The front entrance was located between two water sculptures, marble and cascading, vaguely Roman in theme.

The lobby was expansive, the size of a small movie theater. It continued the motif, with polished terrazzo floors, white columns, and a front desk located under an arch. There were two elevators next to a small cafe, which was dark and quiet. In fact, Bill didn’t see any people anywhere, other than the security guard.

He was sitting behind the desk, dressed in a gray uniform which fit a little too tightly. Before Bill had a chance to say a word the guard had a black phone in his hand.

“Good morning, Dr. May. I’ll tell Dr. Boone you’ve arrived.”

“Thank you.”

Bill busied himself with wrinkle patrol, the trip having done cruel things to his suit. He was checking his hair in a chrome garbage can when Theena arrived.

Her white lab coat ended several inches above her knees, under which the hem of a short black skirt was barely visible. The doctor’s face was carefully made up, her lipstick a more conservative shade than the previous night’s. She didn’t seem bereaved in the slightest.

“Hello, Bill. Thank you for coming.”

A handshake led to an awkward, but welcome, hug.

“If there’s anything I can do.”

She pulled back and smiled. “Welcome to DruTech. Let me show you around.”

She took Bill by the arm and led him through the empty lobby. He commented on the dearth of people.

“Oh, that’s Albert’s doing—Albert Rothchilde. He insisted everyone take the day off due to yesterday’s tragedy. Just a security guard and us today.”

“I’ve met Albert. Cheerful guy.”

“When the stock is up, yes. How much do you know about DruTech?”

“A bit. DruTech is a subsidiary of American Products. They make dish soap.”

Bill, like millions of other Americans, had a box of it at home.

“Correct. They lead the industry in environmentally conscious cleaning agents. Soaps, cleansers, whiteners, stain removers. A.P. also has a large share of the waste disposal market; biodegradable plastic garbage bags and such. DruTech was bought out by A.P. ten years ago, based on the strength of one of my father’s patents.”

“Pain-Away.”

She flashed Bill an appreciative smile.

“A skin absorbing analgesic. Doing a great business with athletes and the elderly. Albert is President of A.P., and is also the supervisory head of DruTech.”

“He runs both, personally?”

“I know, he seems too young. After his parents died, he did away with the committees. He’s very hands-on, and both companies are flourishing under him.”

They stepped into a chrome elevator and Theena removed a plastic card from her coat pocket. She stuck it in a slot under the call buttons, and a green light flashed. The lift descended.

“Upstairs is all corporate office work. It’s downstairs where we have all the fun.”

She winked. Was she flirting with him, the day after her father was killed? Bill wondered if this was her coping mechanism. He cleared his throat.

“Is N-Som the only drug you have in development?”

“There are others; an experimental burn cream, a decongestant—but N-Som is the main focus.”

“How many people are working on it?”

“Six, plus Manny.” Her smiled faltered. “Five, now.”

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“It feels better, to talk about it. Grieving is a process that takes time.”

“Grief?” Theena’s face was caught between a smile and a snarl. “My father was a brilliant scientist, and the world will mourn his loss. I have a mixed opinion. He… he did things.”

Before Bill could ask what she meant, the doors opened and she was walking briskly down the hallway. He followed, her words hanging in his head like a crooked picture.

The decor had changed drastically, all antiseptic white tile and harsh neon lights. It reminded Bill of a modern hospital.

“There are over a dozen rooms down here.” Theena spoke without facing him, her demeanor no longer playful. “Labs, offices, the computer center, two gyms, more medical equipment than an urban emergency room. And this.”

She opened a solid white door and held it for Bill. Inside, rather than an office…

“It looks like an apartment.”

Bill took in his surroundings. It was a fully furnished studio, complete with kitchen, den, and dining area. A stereo, cluttered with CD cases, and a pizza box on the TV gave the impression it was in use.

“Manny’s room. This allows us to closely monitor him, while also giving him a semblance of normalcy. My father’s idea; allow the N-Som test subject to go about daily life while taking the drug.”

Bill looked at a window. The sun peeked through the curtains, which was impossible.

“Fake view. It’s a television monitor, can simulate all kinds of weather.”

She picked up a remote control and pointed it at the window. She switched from morning to night, a soft crescent moon replacing the sun. Another switch and it was day again, but overcast and drizzling.

“That’s impressive.”

“I can also switch it to play movies, cable, pay per view. Even porn. Do you enjoy pornography, doctor?”

Bill faced her. Theena was unreadable—he couldn’t tell if she was amused or sardonic.

“I don’t have much of an opinion on the subject.”

Theena moved closer, into his personal space. Her breath was warm and smelled of mint.

“I’ve studied the neurological effects pornography has on the human brain. You’ve heard the old story, that men are turned on visually, while women are stimulated emotionally? Not according to my research. I’ve found that men and women get equally excited, mentally that is, while viewing pornography.”

“Interesting.” Bill felt his collar get a little tighter, and he fought the urge to pull at his tie.

“No one else seemed to think so, and I lost my funding. I think this country places too much importance on sex. It’s a natural, necessary, biological process, but we keep it behind closed doors. No good comes from repression, don’t you agree?”

Her smile sent a shock through him.

“I, uh, agree. Repression isn’t a good thing.”

“It’s different in Europe. More relaxed. There is no shame in a naked body. No shame in being open about your sexuality. Have you been with a woman since your wife died?”

Bill blushed. He was at a loss for an answer. The truth was he hadn’t had sex in over a year, but that wasn’t any of Theena’s business. She may have been born in Europe, but Bill hadn’t had that luxury. Her bluntness made him uncomfortable, and if that was an indication of his own repression, so be it.

Still, he was flattered to be hit on. If, indeed, that’s what she was doing.

Theena touched his hand. Bill’s ears burned.

“Would you like to see Manny’s bedroom?”

He fought the urge to take a step back.

“Dr. Boone—Theena, I find you very attractive, but I don’t think this is the right time.”

“Do strong willed women scare you, Bill?”

“No. But I wouldn’t want to take advantage of your situation.”

She moved closer, her hand touching his hip, her long curly hair brushing against his neck.

“But I’m the one in control, Bill. How could you be taking advantage of me?”

Damn good question.

“Your father just died. You’re confused.”

“He really wanted N-Som to be approved.”

Bill pushed her at arm’s length.

“Is that what this is about? Theena, my job here is to review your research and based on that…”

Theena began to laugh. Her abrupt change of character was shocking.

“What’s funny?”

“Sorry, Bill. I was just messing around with you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I wanted to see how you’d react, that’s all. It’s strange to find any gentlemen left in this profession.”

Bill blinked. He blinked again.

“This—this was a put on?”

“You’re cute.” Theena touched him on the end of the nose. “But I’m not that easy. And my father did just die yesterday. Call it an integrity check. You passed. Come on, I’ll show you the other rooms.”

Theena took his hand and led him out of the pseudo apartment. Bill felt as if he’d just been subjected to a battery of psych tests. He had to remind himself she was mourning, and people did crazy things while mourning.

But had it really been a gag? Bill was positive, if he’d wanted, he could have had her right there. Was he that easily fooled? Or was she that good?

Or was he that needy?

“We call this the Sweat Room. Treadmill, Nautilus Machines, Stairmaster, free weights. One of our testing criteria is to judge N-Som’s effects on motor skills and muscle fatigue. Lack of sleep makes a person physically tired. Before Manny was put on the drug, we did a series of control scores. Prior to N-Som, he could stay on a Stairmaster for three hours before collapsing from exhaustion.”

Bill studied Theena. She was acting like a professional again. Part of him was disappointed.

“And while he was on N-Som?”

“We had to quit at nine hours because the machine blew a gear.”

She took him to a room across the hallway. Bill recognized several machines, including an EEG and an oscilloscope. Both were in operation, the electroencephalogram drawing a jagged polygraph line on an endless ream of paper.

“Is someone being tested right now?”

“Those are Manny’s. He has remote sensors surgically implanted in his scalp, and they send the signal here. It’s the only way to be sure he never sleeps, since it is almost impossible to watch him twenty-four hours a day.”

Bill was familiar enough to interpret the data. The frequency of the peaks and troughs indicated beta waves. Manny was awake and aware. Curiosity made Bill flip through the pile of folded pages, all with the same, continuous pattern.

He looked for a variation which would indicate unconsciousness. Delta, theta, or spindle waves were obvious signs of sleep; the frequency would slow and the voltage would increase, making bigger and wider peaks. But he couldn’t even find alpha waves.

“Doesn’t he ever close his eyes?”

“Amazing, isn’t it? Normally closed eyes slow down electrical activity, because the brain isn’t being visually stimulated. Manny’s brain remains in beta, even when he keeps his eyes closed for hours.”

“Shouldn’t this show when he was put under for his operation last night?”

“Manny didn’t go under. He insisted on a local anesthetic.”

“To repair a collapsed lung?”

“He didn’t want to jeopardize the experiment.”

Bill thought about invasive surgery while being conscious. He shuddered. The guy was either very committed, or out of his mind.

The EEG needle began to move faster, the small peaks and troughs so close together it was hard to see the cycles between them.