Etherworld (17 page)

It's just a regular tech lab filled with quantum computers, tall glass tables assembled into two half circles, stainless steel cabinets lining the walls, and two InstaComm screens looming over it all.

I step inside the room, still holding on to Zoe's tab. There are no signs that my dad was ever here. Not a used IV bag or an Equip component discarded on the floor. Every surface is gleaming and spotless.

My stomach lurches, and I steady myself on the cabinet, my hands clutching the edges like my life depends on it. My dad seemed so sure he was being held here, but from the looks of things, Cathryn either moved him, or . . .

Killed him.

Patrick enters the room and puts an arm around me. “I know what you're feeling seems real, but it's not. Your mind is playing tricks on you.”

“Where is he?” I murmur, turning toward the door, where Cathryn is standing, perfectly poised. “What have you done with my dad?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she says, casting her gaze down to her tab and mindlessly typing away on her keypad.

He can't be dead. Cathryn may be many terrible things, but a ruthless, cold-blooded murderer? Is she really capable of that? She's had months to kill my dad, and up until now she has kept him alive. Why would she kill after all this time? Is it because she knew I was onto her?

“He was here; I know he was,” I say, pulling away from Patrick and charging toward Cathryn. “He was in this room and you're trying to cover it up.”

Patrick chases after me and tries to get in between us. Then he says to me, “Ree, your dad died. Four months ago. In the plane crash, remember?”

An image of Josh suddenly pops into my mind. He's leaning over me in the Red Canyon Escape, his face collapsing with horror as he watches me disappear right in front of him. That's how I feel right now. Like I'm watching someone vanish and there's nothing I can do to help. If I can't find my father, how can I save Josh? What will happen to the rest of the survivors?

“No, he's alive,” I say. “I just saw him. And your mother has taken him away!”

“Take her home. She needs some rest,” Cathryn says to Patrick, though her attention is still fixed on her tab. “Poor thing. I think this has all been too much for her.”

“Home?” he says, angrily.

Cathryn looks up from her tab.

“Regan needs to go back to the hospital,” Patrick continues. “And we need to find these hackers that are hijacking the signal, and—”

“Our researchers have looked into that,” Cathryn interrupts. “They couldn't find anything wrong with the signal between the Equips.”

“Well, they're wrong!” Patrick says angrily, following her into the hall. “Look at what's happened to Regan. What more proof do you need?”

I trail behind him, standing by his side as he confronts his mom. Cathryn's eyes flick over to me, and for a moment, I see a bit of warmth shining through, as if she actually cares. But it only lasts for a second.

“Regan's problems have nothing to do with Elusion,” she says softly. “She's suffered a horrendous loss, and her mother . . . well, it's no secret that she's been very unstable since losing David.”

I cannot believe she went there. True, my mom has had a rough time since my dad “died,” but who could blame her? Cathryn is responsible for all the pain and suffering my mother has endured over the past four months, and she's trying to spin it so that no one will take me or my mom seriously?

“You destroyed my family,” I say, with conviction. “And by putting Elusion on the market, you're about to destroy millions more.”

“Why can't we temporarily halt production and do a product recall? At least until we get all this under control?” Patrick pleads with Cathryn.

“It's too late for that,” she says. “We have millions of orders to fill.”

“It's not too late,” he urges. “If we can make some changes, then—”

“No!” Cathryn says sternly. “We've already made enough changes.”

“But none of them are working, are they?” I say. Her left eye twitches slightly, hinting at the stress of her deception. “My dad knew the sodium pentothal wasn't going to work. He knew that users would build up a resistance to it eventually.

But you and Bryce submitted it to the CIT behind his back. When he found out, he was furious, and that's when you both trapped him in Elu—”

The back of her hand comes around and hits my cheek, the crack resounding through the air as her rings dig into my skin.

“Mom!” Patrick yells, rushing to my aid. Cathryn stands still, as if she's just as surprised as we are. I bring my hand up to my cheek. It feels wet. I look at my fingers. Blood is trickling down them.

Patrick turns back toward his mother, furious. “What is wrong with you?”

“I'm sorry,” she says. “I just couldn't stand here and listen to her accusations anymore.”

“That's it,” Patrick says. “I'm going to the board of directors and demanding an immediate recall.”

“Don't be ridiculous. You don't have the authority to call a board meeting,” Cathryn says.

“I don't give a shit! This has gone on too long. And if you try and stop me, I'll go straight to the press,” he says, firmly declaring his position. For the first time I can remember, he's going against his mother's wishes.

“If you make any public statement about Elusion, it won't be as an employee of Orexis,” she counters.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Patrick asks.

Cathryn opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. It's almost as though she's having second thoughts, and whatever monster she has become is still capable of having some kind of maternal instincts.

But then she clears her throat, and says, “If you're not willing to defend the product that David created, which the CIT has certified and approved, then I think you need to resign. There are plenty other product designers here who are willing to step in and stand by our work and protect David's legacy.”

I take a step toward her, fists clenched. “How dare you!”

Patrick grabs my arm, pushing me back as he takes the lead. “So you're giving me an ultimatum? If I say anything, you're going to fire me?”

“Don't throw your future away like this. I beg you,” she says to him. “You've spent your entire life preparing to be a major part of Orexis. Think about how hard you've worked.”

Patrick is still holding on to my arm, standing in front of me, his body acting as a barricade between me and his mother.

“If you want to run this company one day, you have to be a leader,” she goes on. “You have to make tough decisions. Your father couldn't handle it. Can you?”

Patrick's eyes soften. For a split second it looks like he's going to agree with her.

“Pat,” I whisper. “Please. You've got to help me.”

He winces and closes his eyes as he runs his free hand through his hair. “I'm sorry, Mom,” he says. “I'm not putting my career above people's safety. Not anymore.”

Cathryn drops her head as Patrick steers me away from her, toward the main elevator bank, on the opposite side of the building from the private elevator I used to get up here. We turn the corner, leaving Cathryn behind, but two burly guards are racing down the hallway, ready to cut us off at the pass.

“Mr. Simmons,” says the bearded one. “We have instructions to escort you directly to your car.”

Patrick's neck is suddenly covered in red blotches, so he takes a deep, calming breath. It's obvious now that his mom was sending messages to security and contacting HR from her tab a few moments ago. The whole line about Patrick needing to resign was just BS. She decided to fire him the moment he opened the lab door for me.

I guess she sees him as a liability now. And for my sake, I hope she's right.

Patrick turns toward the guards and flashes them a brilliant smile, raising his hands in protest. “Hey, guys. No need to get excited over a family argument,” he says. “Besides, we're leaving. When my mom gets in one of her moods, it's best to stay out of her way until she calms down. I'd advise you to do the same.”

His congenial response seems to confuse them, and they hesitate. The elevator door opens and we all step in, tension still circling around us. Unlike the private elevator, this one is huge, its walls covered in mirrored glass. I turn toward the wall and see that my cheek is pink and swollen from where Cathryn hit me, but I couldn't care less. My father's plan has all gone to hell. I have no idea where he is, or if he's even still alive.

No, I can't allow myself to think like that, or I'm going to lose it.

“I have to go to my office before we leave,” Patrick announces as he presses the button for the seventy-third floor.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Simmons. I don't think we can do that,” says the bearded guard. Even though he's twice Patrick's size, he flashes another nervous glance at his clean-shaven, round-faced partner. “Our orders were to escort you and Ms. Welch out of the building immediately.”

“I need to grab my coat and my O2 shield,” Patrick explains. The guards exchange a worried look. “What am I going to do? Steal something?” Patrick adds, grinning good-naturedly. Although he appears relaxed, his neck is still red, a clue as to how anxious he really is.

“Sir, no one thinks you're going to steal—”

“Listen, I'm sorry you guys have to be in the middle of all this,” Patrick interrupts. “I'd appreciate your discretion. My mom's been under a lot of pressure lately and she's not thinking clearly right now.” He rolls down his sleeves, buttoning the cuffs. “This will blow over within the next hour or so, and when it does, she's going to be upset if I can't do my job because I've come down with a Florapetro flu. I'd hate for her to harbor a grudge toward anyone. You've been with our company since before I was born.”

The elevator continues to zoom upward, and I know Patrick's words are getting to them. After all, they have a ring of truth. So much so that I'm wondering if Patrick himself really believes what he's saying.

“I have to escort you into your office,” the round-faced guard says.

“Sure,” Patrick says. “And when my mom cools off, we'll all have a good laugh over this.”

Then he turns back to me, his eyes widening.

“Hey, you're bleeding,” he says, handing me a cloth out of his pocket, his gaze pained.

“What's this?” I ask, taking the piece of silky fabric and holding it to my cheek.

“It's a handkerchief.”

“And you just happen to carry it around because . . . ,” I ask.

“I don't know. Your dad had one. And I thought . . . it was cool,” he says with a shrug, embarrassed.

As I look at him, I can't help but feel a little bit sorry. He's still the same awkward guy I've cared about for years. And I know how much he loves my dad. He thinks he's lost him. And now he thinks he's lost me, too. I just have to prove otherwise. “Thanks,” I say.

The elevator dings and the doors open on the executive floor, but the desk area is empty, the familiar receptionist, Estelle, not yet at work.

“She stays here,” the bearded guard says, stepping in front of me as I attempt to follow Patrick.

Patrick gives me a quick nod of reassurance before disappearing into the executive hall, the other guard following. I move toward the wall of windows, looking across the river at Canada. To think I was standing right here three days ago, and my father was in a room only twenty floors below.

I could've rescued him then. But now . . .

I snap my eyes shut, willing my doubts away.

My dad is alive. I found him once and I will find him again.

“Ready?” Patrick appears, carrying his suit jacket, an O2 shield, and a light silver briefcase.

The bearded guard swipes his passcard and presses the button for the lobby. None of us say a word as the elevator drops, sliding to a halt at the underground exit.

“I'm sorry about this, Mr. Simmons,” the other guard says, his shoulders drooping.

“No problem,” Patrick says cheerfully, as we step into the small foyer that leads to the underground parking structure. “I could use some time off anyway.”

The doors shut, locking us inside the hermetically protected garage.

Patrick's fake smile and happy demeanor fade.

“Come on,” he says, moving toward his car and motioning for me to follow him.

“I'm not going with you,” I say.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I'm talking about. I'm not going back to the hospital.”

“I'm not taking you to the hospital.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, round device, the size of a quarter. “We need to go to my place and have a look at this on my quantum.”

It's a QuTap, just like the one I used in his office.

“Why?” I ask. “What's on it?”

“The security tapes for the research hall.” He puts the QuTap back in his pocket and stares at me, his eyes searching mine. “Maybe there's something on it that can show what was in that room and why my passcard couldn't open the door.”

“Does this mean that you finally believe me?” I ask.

“I don't know what it means,” Patrick says, sighing. “I just . . . I want to believe you're okay, Ree. I really do. But if you don't have nanopsychosis and everything you're telling me is true . . .” He trails off and then his lips tighten, like he's trying to stop himself from yelling. “I can't believe she hit you like that. She's never struck anyone in her life. And firing me for standing up to her? How vindictive can she be?”

It's good to see Patrick get angry like this. He's finally beginning to come around. If he still needs more evidence that his mother isn't just vindictive but part of this horrifying conspiracy that's threatening the lives of millions, then he's right, we should go to his place and confirm it. Besides, there might be some kind of clue on there that explains what Cathryn has done with my father.