More Deaths Than One (12 page)

Chapter 10

“It looks more like a college campus than a
place of business,” Kerry said.

Nodding in agreement, Bob stared out the
window at ISI’s corporate headquarters. A dozen six-story red brick
buildings and a couple of single-story ones ringed a grassy area so
extensive it looked like a park. Paved pathways meandered among
shade trees, bushes, and flowering gardens, providing a running
track for the energetic; benches and picnic tables had been
scattered about for the more lethargic.

An ordinary chain link fence surrounded the
entire campus. A manned sentry booth stood at each entrance to the
parking lot, but Bob saw no evidence of the high-tech security
system he had expected at such a secretive corporation.

When they drove to the end of the campus and
turned right, he saw a startlingly different aspect of the same
company. Here was an entrance heavily guarded by armed men, a high
fence topped by razor wire, and a proliferation of security
cameras. Strangely, the parking lot on this side of the campus
seemed absurdly large in relation to the small, squat building.

Bob had Kerry drive around the entire complex
again so he could study the clothing. There seemed to be no dress
code. Some men wore business suits, but most dressed casually in
slacks and shirts. Several wore lightweight jackets in
acknowledgment of the cooling temperatures; a few wore sweaters.
Most of the women dressed in suits.

“Where are they going?” Kerry reached across
Bob and pointed to a stream of people headed for a single-story
building next to the tennis courts.

Noting that some of them wore workout clothes
or carried a gym bag, Bob said, “An athletic club, probably. Maybe
I can find an empty locker to stow my gear during the day.”

Kerry’s eyes grew grave. “You’re going
through with it?”

“Yes. I need to get a feel for the place, see
who these people are, then maybe I can find a way out of this mess
and get on with my life.”

“What will you do, go back to Thailand?”

“No. I’ll find some place, but it won’t be
here. I’m beginning to think Denver is the seventh circle of
hell.”

Kerry chuckled. “Tell me about it.”

Bob reached into his pocket for Herbert
Townsend’s ID. After borrowing the nametag, he’d gone to the photo
booth at the downtown Woolworth’s, cut one of the pictures to fit
over Townsend’s, and covered the whole thing with clear packing
tape.

He held it up, squinting at the nearest group
of people. About half of them had nametags clipped to their
clothes.

“Does this look like the ones they’re
wearing? I don’t know how long it’s been since Townsend worked
here. The design might have been changed.”

“It looks the same to me.” The sparkle
returned to Kerry’s eyes. “I don’t know how you got him to lend it
to you. I don’t even know how you got him to talk. Must be more of
your hidden shallows.”

Bob tucked the nametag back in his pocket.
“He didn’t tell me much. He started working here after college
graduation. They offered him a huge salary, great perks,
interesting work, and he jumped at the chance without ever finding
out what else the company did besides sell new security systems and
analyze old ones. Then I lost him. He talked about the microchip
they put in his head and how Issy’s going to get me too if I don’t
watch out.”

“So, watch out,” Kerry said.

“I intend to.”

After leaving the ISI campus, they drove
around for a while scouting out motels and bus routes.

“I wish you could stay with me,” Kerry said,
“but my roommate is coming back tomorrow.” She smiled at him. “At
least we had the weekend.”

The dinner at the Mulligans had been on
Friday night, so today, Monday, had been the first chance they’d
had to check out ISI. When their schedules had coincided the past
two days, they’d popped corn, watched movies on television, and
played silly games, making a point of not discussing Bob’s plan to
infiltrate ISI.

“What now?” Kerry asked.

“Shopping.”

“How about Southglen Mall? That’s about as
far away from here as we can get.”

“Sounds good.”

Bob searched the mall until he put together
the perfect costume: forest green pants from one store, pale gold
shirts with a flap on the pocket from another. A third store
yielded a green, gold, and brown sweater that would blend nicely
with the foliage he’d seen at the ISI complex. He also bought a gym
bag. As at Bear Valley, he purchased each item with a traveler’s
check, netting him more cash. Before they left, he dashed into a
toy store for a two-and-a-half-inch-diameter pink rubber ball.

***

They were quiet during the drive back to
Broomfield. At Bob’s direction, Kerry parked a block away from the
motel he’d chosen for the night, then they lapsed into silence
again.

“This is ridiculous,” Kerry said. “Just kiss
me and go.” She offered her cheek.

Bob leaned over, intending to give her a
friendly peck, but at the last minute she turned her head. Their
lips met.

All at once they were in each other’s arms,
mouths locked together. When they finally pulled apart, Bob felt
dizzy, and his resolve had fled.

Maybe he should forget about ISI for now and
stay with Kerry awhile longer.

He pushed the thought out of his head. He
couldn’t allow himself any distractions. He had work to do.
Besides, her roommate would return soon.

He got out of the car, said goodbye, and
headed for the motel. He did not look back.

Once he’d checked in, he sat on the bed, back
propped against the pillows, squeezing his new pink rubber ball,
first with one hand, then the other, squeezing and squeezing until
time to retire for the night.

***

He rose at dawn for his run. He put one foot
in front of the other, refusing to dwell on anything but the steady
rhythms of movement and breath.

Before he left for work, he attached the ISI
identification card to his shirt pocket and was pleased to see the
pocket flap covering the last name as he hoped it would.

He and several others got off the bus at the
stop outside the ISI campus. The guard barely glanced at him as he
passed.

Acting as if he belonged, he headed for the
building by the tennis courts. As he surmised, it was an athletic
club, and he did find an empty locker for his gym bag. Reminding
himself to buy a lock, he went back outside and walked among the
ISI employees.

He wondered who among them had an interest in
him. Is it you? he silently asked the bird-beaked man. Is it you?
he asked the chipmunk-cheeked woman. Or you? Or you?

As Bob watched, he noticed as many people
coming out of the office buildings as entering. He had expected the
grounds to empty as people settled into their jobs, but many
individuals and small groups milled around.

Listening, he learned that many of these
people were on break, having been at work since six or seven. He
overheard one young woman explaining to a trainee about ISI’s
open-door policy. Employees could arrive as early as six in the
morning and stay as late as seven in the evening. As long as they
worked a full forty hours each week, they could set their own
schedules.

Bob moved toward the single-story building
that seemed to have the most interest for the most people. The
cafeteria, he discovered.

He stood in line for a hot chocolate,
listening to the gossip swirling around him.

“My daughter Susie got braces yesterday. She
refuses to smile, says she’ll probably never smile again.”

“Don’t worry, she’ll get over it.”

“How do you know?”

“My son Jack acted the same way.”

“Did you know that Jan in Accounting is
having an affair with Richard in Human Resources?”

“No. Really?”

“Yeah. Becky saw them coming out of a motel
together.”

“What was Becky doing there?” Laughter.

“Mary’s pregnant.”

“Mary Carter?”

“Yes.”

“But how? I mean, you know, she’s a
lesbian.”

“Artificial insemination.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t look now, but there’s that hot
receptionist.”

“Where? I don’t see her.”

“You missed her. Next time I see her, I’m
gonna ask her out.”

“Yeah, right. Like you stand a chance.”

Bob took his hot chocolate out to the campus
lawn, grateful for the warmth of the drink. This early in the
morning the air was a bit nippy, and even with his sweater he felt
cold.

After he finished his drink, he still felt
chilly. He jogged slowly for a few minutes, trying to get warm.
Ahead of him on the pathway rambled a group of young people who
seemed barely out of school. All talked at once.

“Can you believe the nerve of that woman? She
planned her retirement for months, told Baxter she quit . . .”

“. . . we gave her that retirement party . .
.”

“. . . when I think of all the nice things we
said to her . . .”

“. . . engraved a watch to the best boss
ever. We’ll miss you . . .”

“. . . bitch actually believed we meant it .
. .”

“. . . feel sorry for Joyce . . .”

“. . . so excited about her promotion . .
.”

“. . . came to work today all ready to start
her new job as supervisor of the mailroom. When Joyce stormed into
Baxter’s office, he shrugged and said Enid decided not to retire
after all.”

“Enid told me she retired because she thought
we all hated her, but when she found out how much we liked her, she
decided to stay.”

“But we don’t like her.”

“We’re screwed. She’ll never leave now.”

Bob veered off the path into the shadow of a
stand of young, bushy Siberian elms with green and gold foliage.
Snippets of conversation wafted through the autumn air.

“I hear we’re going to be downsized.”

“Oh, no! I came here from a company that got
downsized. I can’t go through it again.”

“. . . best barbecue I ever had. Too bad I
went with that asshole Jared.”

“I thought you liked him.”

“I did, but he . . .”

“I spent all day on my 679K report, now they
tell me they inputted the wrong data.”

“. . . took the cocktease out to dinner and
she wouldn’t put out. You promised me a sure thing. That’s the last
time I ever listen to . . .”

And so it went.

***

Two days later, Bob was standing by a
honeysuckle bush listening to the sound of hundreds of voices
talking, whining, arguing, laughing, when suddenly a man on a
skateboard crashed into him.

The man, about forty years old with a slight
paunch and curly black hair, stared at him in aston-ishment.
“Sorry, man. I didn’t see you.”

“No problem,” Bob said.

“My wife tells me I’m too old for
skateboarding. So does my doctor—he says my knees are shot. Looks
like they’re right. What a bummer. Name’s Don. Don Donati.
Actually, it’s Percival, but no one calls me that if they know
what’s good for them. I work in Advertising, administrative
assistant to the department head. I’m also the liaison between the
Advertising Department and Marketing. You’re that new guy in
Marketing, aren’t you? Thought I recognized you, but, hey, man,
what are you doing over here all by yourself? You’ll never meet
anyone that way. Why don’t you come sit with me and my friends.
We’re right over there.” He lifted a hand to wave at a group of
people seated at one of the picnic tables; they all waved back.

“Sure, why not?” Bob followed Don to the
table.

“Hey, everybody, this is—” Don glanced at
Bob.

“Herb,” Bob said.

Don sat down, shoving trays of dirty dishes
out of his way, and motioned for Bob to do the same. Don finished
the introductions, then said, “Herb’s the new guy in
Marketing.”

A bony young woman named Julia snickered.
“Marketing, huh? Good luck.”

Bob turned to look at her. “What does that
mean?”

“Don’t listen to her,” said John, a young man
with the hopeful shadow of a goatee. “She thinks the Marketing
Department is cursed.”

“Well, it is,” Julia insisted.

“Really?” Bob asked.

“Yes,” Julia answered.

“No way,” John said at the same time.

Bob looked at Don, who shrugged. “It’s not
cursed, of course, but some weird things have happened to the
people in Marketing.”

“Like what?”

“Like that guy who disappeared,” chubby,
blond Heather said.

“Who disappeared?” John demanded. “I never
heard about anyone disappearing.”

Julia bobbed her head. “Yes, you did.
Remem-ber Will Turnow?”

“Oh, him.” John waved a hand
dismissively.

“How did he disappear?” Bob asked.

“No one knows,” redheaded Andy responded. “He
went to Boston for a seminar, attended a few meetings, and no one
ever saw him again.”

“He acted like a jerk, anyway,” John
said.

Julia looked at him with a puzzled expression
in her chocolate brown eyes. “What does that have to do with
anything?”

John stared back at her. “It has everything
to do with it. I mean, like, who cares?”

Julia held up a finger. “There was also that
guy who got killed.”

“Are you talking about Doug Roybal? He died
in a rock climbing accident.”

“But he still worked in Marketing. And there
were those two guys who claimed to have been beamed aboard a space
ship, and what about that guy who had terrible temper tantrums.
What’s his name?”

“Jerold Hancock,” Don answered.

“Who’s he?” Heather asked.

Julia spread her hands. “You know, that tall,
good-looking guy in Marketing? The one who says hello to
everyone?”

“But he’s so nice.” Heather glanced around
the table at the others. “I don’t get it.”

John rolled his eyes. “There’s nothing to
get. Jerold is a valuable employee who had a vicious temper, so
human resources sent him to a clinic in Boston where he learned how
to control it. I don’t know why you guys have to make such a big
deal out of everything.”