Out of Touch (50 page)

James sat on his hands. He was uncomfortably aware of Lisa’s nearness in the dark car, and he kept picturing her kissing Alak.

“There”
turned out to be Dr. Yu’s house in Chinatown. James followed Lisa up the front steps with some misgivings. He’d never actually been inside Yu’s home. He didn’t want to be involved with anything in Chinatown, especially not now. But Yu opened the heavy front door himself and led them through the deserted entry to what he clearly used as an exam room.

Lying on the table, bald and motionless, was Sarah.

“What happened?” James asked aloud, as images of Sarah attacked by a mob came back to him.

“We sent someone to question Dr. Knockham for you, and she was there, walking out of his building, wearing his overcoat and hat.”

“When?”

“This morning, before the news broadcast. By the time our man realized it wasn’t Knockham and who it was, he had no choice but to drug her and bring her back.”

“No choice? Why?” James turned to Lisa. “You said you had a friend who could ask Knockham some questions.”

Lisa let out her breath in a huff. “She’s a teek. She might have recognized him, and who knows who she’s working for. We had a private plane ready in case the scientist wanted to defect.”

So Lisa was part of whatever was going on in Chinatown. He should never have told her about Knockham, but instead of stopping the broadcast, it had led to this. Whatever had happened here, James felt viscerally responsible, as if he was part of a mob that had trapped Sarah.

James stepped closer to the exam table where she lay unconscious. Her face and bald scalp looked pink and swollen. The scar from her bullet wound stood out above one ear, but showed no recent damage. A white patient gown covered her shoulders, but her arms lay bare above a white sheet. They were hairless, and by the wrists and hands there was swelling and some rash.

“What did you do to her?”

Dr. Yu stepped forward. “By the time the plane brought her to us, we had, of course, heard and studied Dr. Knockham’s information. I gave her another sedative, but knowing that could not be a permanent solution, and hoping to make the best of an unfortunate situation, we started testing something new. We shaved and then used a chemical depilatory to remove all her hair. We want you to test if this has removed all the new and old zoots. If not, we can try removing the top layer of skin.”

“We know nothing about the immune or disease implications—“

“How better to learn?”

“Who authorized this?”

“All you need to do is test to see if we’ve removed the symbiotes. Also, if you don’t already have genomic information on this person, as Lisa believes, I’m sure you’ll want to confirm that she matches the expected types.”

“What you’re asking me to do is illegal.”

“Would it absolve you to be ordered to do it?”

“What is your thing for her?” Lisa cut in; Yu glared at her.

“My reaction would be the same regardless of who lay on the table.” But James noticed his hands were shaking and he carefully pressed each thumb to each finger to steady his hands and his thoughts.

“Your objections will be noted,” Yu continued. “If you wish to check with your government contact, then do so. Otherwise, please take your samples and get the job done.”

James knew what Alak would say, given what he’d just seen in front of his building, but he called anyway, to make it official. He wasn’t sure who Alak, Lisa, and Yu were working for. The Johnsons, or certain others, might be interested to find out, but solving that puzzle wouldn’t help Sarah.

“All right,” he said as he hung up the phone. Let them think he’d cooperate just on Alak’s orders. “If I’m going to be involved in this, I want to do my own medical examination to make sure the patient is stable.”

Dr. Yu nodded and gestured toward a prep tray by the table. James began by checking Sarah’s temperature and pulse. Her temp was a little high, possibly just a reaction to surface trauma caused by the depilatory. Lisa and Dr. Yu stepped outside the open door as James uncovered Sarah and confirmed that the topical reaction was no worse on other parts of her body. He carefully took skin samples from several areas and a small blood sample from her arm.

Replacing the sheet, as gently as he could, James lifted Sarah’s hand, touching the rash along her wrist for a moment. On impulse, he bent and kissed her forehead.

The door knocked back with a thump, unnecessary since it had been open the whole time.

“I was wondering about you,” Lisa said with an audible sneer. “You like them dead, or just helpless?”

“She’s my daughter,” James said, then paced out of the room, surprised by the lump in his throat and the pounding in his chest. Lisa caught up with him in the entryway. Yu appeared in a nearby doorway of what must be his office.

“How?”

“Not as you think, but it’s none of your business. I’ll run your tests and let you know in a few hours.”

“By four, if you can, so I won’t have to sedate her again,” Yu said.

James stepped outside and flagged a cab from the busy street. He rode it back to the university. When it left, he walked past his building to the nearest noisy nightspot. It was a retro, neon lit club called The Mystic Temple. At this hour the students wandering in seemed sedate, their clothes unrumpled, their night just beginning. The music that reached the sidewalk wasn’t even deafening yet.

James found another cab. He had it drop him by a house near the Johnsons’. Then he hiked around to the path that led behind their estate. Step by step, he picked his way through the dark until he could see what he thought was Emma’s window. There was a light on. Hopefully that meant the teenager was awake and alone. He tried to focus tight telepathy at her through the closed window.

“Emma, can you hear me? This is James Morton, from the university.”

Her face appeared in the window, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, but I need to get a message to Reggie, very secretly. I heard you had a PAD now. Can you contact him?”

“What’s this about?”

“It’s about Sarah, but if I tell you, you must promise to only tell Reggie. If anyone else finds out, or if you try to do something on your own, you might endanger her life and ours.”

“Is this for real?”

“All too real. Do you want to help?”

“Of course.”

“Then tell Reggie that Sarah is a prisoner in Dr. Yu’s home. She’s currently sedated, but they’ve removed all her hair to see if that will stop her telekinesis. I don’t think this is government sponsored. I might be able to get her out of there, but they’d need a way to remove her from Thailand.”

“Don’t you think my parents could help?”

“Emma, I’m not sure where everyone stands in this. I came to you because you were Sarah’s friend, but I don’t want to bring trouble to your family. Please tell me you’ll call Reggie and then forget the whole thing.”

“Nobody needs to bring trouble, but I’ll call.”

“And then stay out of it?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

July 28, 2025 – Bangkok, Thailand

Pain, cold pointy pain, was everywhere. Sarah felt static like on a TV screen was pricking her from all angles. When she rubbed against the sides of the TV screen it scraped her skin away. She tried to pull a cocoon around herself, but it wouldn’t come. She couldn’t open her eyes or move her body. This must be a dream, and she should wake up, but she couldn’t wake up.

Someone took her hand, held it. Warmth flowed through. Fingers touching the back of her hand and wrist sent stabs like the pins and needles when an arm falls asleep. But it was okay with the warm hand holding her own. Someone kissed her forehead, like the kiss of a thistle. She felt blood flow to the surface, the flood of neediness in a sick child kissed that way.

There was the sound of a door thumping, so much more rational that anything she was feeling.

              A voice she almost recognized said, “I was wondering about you. You like them dead or just helpless?” It was Lisa. Lisa was that voice.

             
“She’s my daughter.” That was James. James was her father.

July 29, 2025 – PAD Island

Reggie knocked and pushed open the door of Phil’s office, then slouched against the doorframe, arms crossed. Phil’s broad oak desk was layered with sketches and printouts. Cass and Knockham flipped through a pile at one end, huddled in their own discussion. The crisp morning light off the beach hit much too hard on eyes that had been open all night.

Phil looked up with a tired smile, “Couldn’t sleep or came to take over?”

“I need to rescue a prisoner of war. Thought I should check in first.”

Dr. Knockham and Cass faced him with a start, but Phil just rubbed his temples and leaned his chin on his left palm.

“Sarah?”

“Of course.”

“And you need?”

“A posse of teeks and political pull would be nice, but I’d settle for a get away plane and someplace safe to land.”

“Is this because she helped me?” Knockham asked. “Who has her?”

“In Thailand again, unclear who. I was thinking of pulling her out of a window and running. Did I mention they removed all her hair in an effort to stop her teek?”

“Did it work?” the scientist asked, then looked down as everyone carefully looked elsewhere. “She certainly deserves our help.”

“I can bargain for a plane,” Phil said, “You want it without press?”

“If she wants to return to Ireland, we seem to owe her.” Cass said gruffly with a glance at Dr. Knockham. “Tell me all you know.”

July 29, 2025 – Bangkok, Thailand

It was evening again as Reggie rode in a cab through the clamoring streets of Bangkok. The setting sun reminded him of the sleep he’d failed to get on the plane. The plane and pilots they’d negotiated in exchange for giving E.U. News exclusive access to PAD island. Conveniently, Phil had previously decided their coverage was the best political move he could hope for. Reggie also had a PAD videophone, a Swiss army knife, and a puzzle ring on his person. In the cab with him were Howard, who refused to be left behind, and James, who they’d just picked up from the university.

They had the driver let them out at a busy intersection in Chinatown, then gave him decent money to wait.

James went first, hoping to make a nonchalant visit to check on Sarah. Reggie watched him tromp up the stone stairs of an ornate Chinese facade building. Once he was in, Reggie walked down the street and casually ducked into the unfenced side yard. It wasn’t full dark yet, and Reggie felt conspicuous as he pulled a recycling bin under a rear side window and peeked in. He wanted to feel like part of a gang, but kept getting distracted by his racing heart and trembling hands.

The light inside was on, helpful for taking pictures. Dr. Yu and Dr. Morton stood beside a padded table. Sarah lay on the table, bald, gagged, and wearing what appeared to be a straitjacket. Reggie risked taking a high-resolution still with the PAD videophone then ducked out of sight. He dialed the number Phil had given him.

“You there? I’m sending an image,” Reggie whispered.

“Go ahead,” Phil answered.

As he transmitted, Reggie heard voices. He hadn’t heard Howard ring, but he heard Dr. Yu at the front saying, “Can I help you?”

“Dr. Yu, perhaps you don’t remember me. I’m Howard, Mei Mei Chen’s nephew. She’s not handling, you know, recent news so well. And I was wondering if you could give her something?”

Then James had the window unlocked and open. There was a radio news station playing inside, and Reggie could no longer decipher the front door conversation.

“It’s an old screen, doesn’t pop out,” James said.

Reggie hooked the PAD onto his pocket and pulled out the pocketknife, stabbing in firmly. The knife was sharp, but the window screen turned out to be a sturdy metal weave that only cut in fits and starts.

James said something to Sarah then lifted her gently off the table. She let out a very small whine. Reggie looked up in time to see her cringe as James removed a taped gag from her mouth.

Then James stood by the window, holding Sarah in his arms, while Reggie, who wanted to slash heroically through petty obstacles, instead sawed with all his strength just to finish one downward cut. He imagined background music speeding up as he tried to force his knife across the bottom of the screen to continue the opening.

There was a loud thump, and Dr. Yu rushed into the room, followed closely by a muscular young man, not Howard.

“Stop,” Yu said, as he pulled a gun from a desk by the door.

Reggie stopped cutting but pulled the new PAD from his side.

“Smile Dr. Yu, you’re on PAD video. And if you don’t let her go, we will broadcast.”

Reggie had been transmitting continuous audio. Now he clicked for another burst of high-res without checking his viewscreen for alignment.

“Care to tell the world why you’re torturing this woman and why you just shot a man?” Reggie asked smoothly.