The Dane Commission (The Dane Chronicles) (34 page)

Together, the
three of them rode in Mr. Spencer’s car. They drove up to the house, got out of
the car and walked to the front door. After calling for Dr. Frances, Tom waited
a moment and then opened the front door. Ryan and Jeff followed him inside.

The house was
empty.

There were no
furnishings, no tables, chairs or even papers on the floor. The windows were
covered with curtains and blinds, but that was it. Dust had settled everywhere.
They walked together covering the whole property, only to find empty rooms in
an empty house. It didn’t look like Dr. Frances had ever moved in.

“Tom, are you
sure that Dr. Frances actually lived here?”
“Well, I remember helping him make the arrangements, and then he signed the
lease.”

“When was
that, and how did he look?”
Tom pulled his phone out and searched for the lease information. “Well, it was
a little over 5 years ago, but I never actually saw him. We handled everything
over the phone and by mail.”

Tom put his
phone away and looked around.
“This is so odd.”

Returning to
the car, they drove back to the Community Center.

Ryan and Jeff
thanked Mr. Spencer for his help, and promised to mention the problem here with
the people at home. Ryan drove them back to the airport hotel.
They had dinner at the hotel.

They didn’t
talk much.

Both men were
anticipating trouble in Rhode Island.

Ryan thought
he must feel something like a man who wanders across railroad tracks, suddenly
bathed in the light of the oncoming engine. The crash was coming, inevitable,
but he couldn’t look away or change his course. The answers were waiting for
them in Newport. He hoped they wouldn’t run him down.

That night at
the hotel, Ryan sent Cohen an update.

‘Eric -
We found his house, and a local (community manager) let us inside.
Empty; it was completely empty.
No furniture, no one living there. It appears that Dr. Frances never moved in.

Evidence
suggests it has been vacant for more than five years.
We’re moving on to Rhode Island tomorrow.
I’m beginning to fear the worst.

-
                    
Ryan’

He hit the
send button.
Looking though the rest of his mail, he found a message from Jim.

‘Ryan, you're
not going to believe what I found.
It’s the video of Sid Frances.

You were
right. There was something to see.

It didn’t make
sense until I turned the sound down.
You can see several loops that simulate the mouth
moving. I sent you the most obvious one. Also, if
you compare segments of the audio track, you
find that individual words are repeated from
a single version.

It’s a fake
Ryan.

But there’s
more-
so is Steve Ranks.

They aren’t
even very good fakes. I don’t
think anyone has noticed because no one was looking.

I attached a
video clip to show you.

I can guess
where you are, be careful.

I’ll see you
when you get back.

- Jim’

Ryan was
stunned; Steve Ranks was a fake too?

He forwarded
Jim’s message to Cohen.

This was going
from bad to worse.

The next day
they arrived in Rode Island.

They found the
car Lara had arranged, and sped off towards their last address in Newport.

Ryan was
nervous.

He had
convinced himself that Sid Frances was dead, and this would be where they found
his body. The desiccated old man at the table he’d imagined. He was tempted to
call the police. It would be the smart move, the safe move.
‘Except,’ he thought, ‘it would take too much time.’

The police were slow, it would take time for them to understand his story, time
for them to verify it, and then time for them to get the necessary approvals to
act.

After all he’d
seen he needed to know, now.

Where was the man who had cured cancer?

Where was the
man who had founded the greatest health and research institute the world had
ever known? And most importantly,
how long had he really been gone?

Ryan thought
about all of the meetings, conferences, dinners and ceremonies Dr. Frances had
attended over the last five years.

All by
televid, and all fake.

For that
matter, the same applied for Steven Ranks. The two figureheads of
IntelliHealth, guiding the largest organization in the world, and even
interacting with governments around the world, all this time.

What had they
done?

Ryan and Jeff
had to drive for over an hour to get from the airport to the address in
Newport. They didn’t talk much in the car, and they didn’t stop. Jeff looked as
nervous as he was.

When they
finally arrived, the sun was up and they could see blue water rolling behind a
row of houses. They got out of the car and stared at the house from the curb.

Dr. Frances’
home sat up high on a rocky, sandy shore, overlooking the water. The grass in
the front lawn was green and cared for; it was a good sign.

Ryan relaxed a
little.

Across the
water, there were sailboats all leaning to one side as they tacked against the
wind. Gulls cried in the distance, and somewhere a dog barked. The scene was
beautiful; maybe they would find Dr. Frances here after all.

Ryan steeled
himself, shrugged and walked up to the front door.

Hesitantly, he
reached up and pushed the doorbell.

They could
hear it ringing inside.

After a minute
or two, with no response, he knocked as well.
Still hearing no response he called through the door, “Dr. Frances, if you are
there please answer.”

They waited.

Only silence
from within, giving nothing to indicate movement inside.

His heart
sinking, Ryan motioned to Jeff and they walked around the house to the back.
Ryan led with his less than devoted sidekick in tow.

He knew Jeff
didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to find the body they would surely find
inside. Ryan was sweating. He touched the phone in his pocket lightly, just to
make sure he had it.

In back of the
house they found a lush, green yard that ended with a small drop to the water.
There was a boat-dock with a sailboat tied-up inside.

Walking around
the house, they arrived at the back door.

Ryan tried the
handle, but the door was locked. Cupping his hands around his eyes, he could
see through a window in the door. There was only a small bolt locking the door.
He looked quickly at Jeff.
They both seemed to be thinking the same thing. They had come too far to stop.
Jeff nodded.

With barely
any effort, he shouldered the door open.

They stood on
the porch step, and he called inside.

“Hello, Dr.
Frances are you there? Hello?”

There was only
silence inside, and the sound of the surf blanketing them outside.

From far out
in the bay, he thought he heard someone laughing.

He stepped
inside.

It was the
kitchen; it smelled musty.

All the signs
of life were there; utensils on the counter, a stack of plates visible across
the floor on the far counter. There were glasses stacked up, and a magazine on
the table. He stepped over to the magazine, and looked closely without touching
it. He read the name Frances on the address label, and noticed the date at the
top.

It was five
and a half years old.

A thick layer
of sandy dust covered everything, as it does in beach houses. As they walked,
they left clean footprints in the grit on the floor. He walked through the
dining area and found the living room.
Chairs, a couch and a large televid. Frances must have been living here at one
time.

“Dr. Frances,
are you here? Hello?” he called again.

Nothing.

Still the
gritty dust covered everything. Jeff swiped his finger down the front of the
large televid leaving a clean trail behind.

Ryan walked
into the adjacent bedroom, bracing for the body he still expected. The bed was
unmade, and clothes lay around the room on chairs, and the dresser. In the
adjoining bath, there was a leather bag with a brush and a toothbrush next to
it. Towels were on the floor, and some hair in the sink.
Dust covering everything.
These things had not been moved in some time.

Turning back
to the dresser, he spied a leather satchel with papers inside. Carefully, he
picked up a pen, noticing the clean place it left on the top of the
dresser.
 
Slowly, he used the pen to
hold open the satchel and read the papers inside. He saw a header, which read,
‘Dear Dr. Frances’.

These were his
things.

He had been
here.

Ryan set the
pen down, and walked carefully back to the hallway.
Moving away from the living room, he found a second bedroom. Just as in the
first, clothes and belongings lay about the room.

There had been
two people here.

Finding a
folder with papers on the dresser, he carefully opened it. He saw the name
written on the top, ‘Steve Ranks.’

They had both
been here.
This was where it happened.

‘The event
that took them both,’ he thought.

Suddenly, Jeff
screamed from across the house.

Ryan quickly
stepped backwards, and ran to the kitchen.
Jeff had opened the refrigerator. It was rank with molds covering the interior.
The foods kept here had gone bad quite some time ago.

Jeff shut the
door, “Sorry Ryan.”

They stepped
outside. It felt good to be back in the sun again.

He looked
across the yard at the boat dock.

‘Well,’ he
thought, ‘we’ve come this far; may as well see it all.’

Ryan walked to
the boat.

“Ryan, why do
you want to see the boat? We know he’s not here.”

“We have to
see everything before I make my report to Cohen.”

The boat was
pointed into the dock. He could see the name written across the side of the
bow,
‘The Long Victory’
. Ryan thought the sailboat looked to be about
twenty-seven feet long and very modern, with lots of fiberglass fins and bright
steel trim.

He knew his
way around sailboats, and when they entered the dock, stepped deftly onto the
deck. Jeff waited, standing just inside the dock, in the shade of the wooden
beams stretching overhead.

Ryan stood on
the foredeck and noticed the mainsail and jib were hanging loose as if someone
had brought them down, but didn’t bother to reel them in, or tie them up.

Loose cords
littered the deck. The mast itself had a large noticeable dent about halfway
up. He stepped carefully around the edge to the stern, and down into the
sitting area. Only one side even had a cushion. It was half hanging in the air,
all tangled in the ropes running to the boom. It swung slowly back and forth,
as the boat tilted with the water below.

He walked
around the steering wheel so he could see into the cabin, below deck.
It was in total disarray.
The beds, mattresses, cushions, furniture and a lot of clothes and belongings
were thrown upside down and everywhere.

This boat was
a mess, and not at all what you would expect to see from someone like Dr.
Frances.
‘What happened here?’ he wondered.

He climbed
back out, and walked with Jeff back to the car.

“Jeff, they
were both here, Sid Frances and Steven Ranks. The house looks fine, but the
boat is in terrible shape. I think whatever happened to them, happened on that
boat.”

They got in
the car and started the drive back to the airport.