The Memory Collector Part 17

"Chira-Sayf," the receptionist said.

"Alec Shepard, please."

The receptionist transferred the call. Shepard's secretary picked up. Jo identified herself and asked to speak to him.

"He isn't in the office today. May I ask what this is regarding?"

"It's an emergency. I'm conducting a psychiatric evaluation for the San Francisco Police Department. It's about Ian Kanan."

Pause. "Let me transfer you to our legal department."

Snap. Jo heard the sound of another Chira-Sayf employee wriggling into a girdle of flame-resistant, a.s.s-covering spandex.

"Tell Mr. Shepard I'm investigating whether Kanan might try to kill him. Have him call me."

Longer pause. The secretary took Jo's number.

"Thank you."

She hung up, put her hand on the ignition, and hesitated, staring at the company's chic buildings. From her satchel she took the Chira-Sayf brochure.

She flipped through it, wondering why Riva Calder had gotten so nervous about her reading it. The brochure was blurby. Nanotechnology is our future. Buckyb.a.l.l.s of the world unite. There were photos of happy, smiling Chira-Sayf employees, industrious people at work, building the magic of the twenty-first century.

She stopped, staring at a photo of several people. Their names were listed from left to right. "d.a.m.n it."

The heat of anger climbed up her chest. She got her phone again. This time, when she phoned Chira-Sayf, she got Calder's voice mail. She hung up and called back.

"Ruth Fischer, please," she said.

The call was transferred and a woman picked up. "This is Ruth Fischer."

Jo heard her Southern accent. "It's Jo Beckett. Here are your choices. I can go back to the lobby and request to see your boss, or you can wait for me to bring the cops to talk to you, or you can meet me up the road in the shopping center. There's a Taco Bell."

After a stricken pause, Fischer said, "Taco Bell."

Maybe they'd serve crow. In sizzling, red-hot portions.

Kanan stared out the Navigator's windshield at Chira-Sayf's head-quarters. Parked a block away, he had a good view of the entrance. The birches on the lawn were coming into leaf, spring green in the sunshine.

He was achy and bruised. He felt as though he had been in a fight. He touched his lip. It was split, but he didn't remember being hit in the mouth. He was wearing brand-new clothes-a jean jacket, gray flannel shirt, T-shirt, jeans, boxers, socks. His old clothes were on the floor in a bag from Target, soaking wet, like his boots. On the pa.s.senger seat, in another Target bag, were Post-its, indelible markers, disposable cameras. He didn't remember shopping at Target.

Among the Post-it notes stuck to the dashboard, one read, Find Alec.

Obviously he was deep in f.u.c.kupistan. He hadn't delivered the stuff. He couldn't, because he didn't have it. So he was working the fallback plan, going after Alec.

He checked his watch. Ten thirty A.M. That was news to him.

He knew he had a problem. He couldn't rely on himself to know how much time had pa.s.sed. He realized that he was forgetting almost everything. Having this memory glitch felt like being detached from time, existing in a bubble that floated from moment to moment. The world was vivid, but he had no sense of past or future, only a sense of now. He felt wide awake, extremely clear, and yet adrift.

He scratched at the scabbed-over gouges on his arm. On his skin, in fresh black marker, he saw his own handwriting.

His heart took a stumbling beat and his stomach clenched. He opened the glove compartment. A pair of binoculars was inside. He put them to his eyes and focused on the Chira-Sayf buildings.

There should be a silver Benz parked near the entrance. Not too close, not too far away. Just the right distance to let the worker bees feel that the boss hadn't lost touch with the hive. Alec should be in the office, holding court. People came to see him, right? He didn't need to go out. Except for meeting with Pentagon types in D.C. Or sailing that boat of his, Somebody's Baby. Or flying to Johannesburg when Chira-Sayf pulled the plug on the research.

Kanan didn't see the car.

And what in h.e.l.l was he going to say to Alec when he found him? Would it turn into a grief-fest, a screaming match about betrayal? Would anything be rectified?

The stuttering heart tripped him up again. His family. His beautiful, feisty Misty. His big-hearted Seth. He had been poisoned, and with it his whole life.

His eyes stung. He let the tears well. He felt, hot against his leg, the steel of the blade.

At Chira-Sayf, a woman walked out of the main building. She was young, dressed down, had loose brown curls that swirled in the wind. He looked at the dashboard. Beside the Post-it notes, a laminated photo I.D. was clipped to a heater vent. He checked. It was the same woman. JOHANNA BECKETT, M.D.

The doctor got in a Toyota pickup, pulled out, and drove past him. He followed.

Across the Formica-topped table, the woman who had called herself Riva Calder grabbed a taco and bit down. The tortilla sh.e.l.l snapped and crumbled. Ground meat and cheese and lettuce spewed out.

"Anytime," Jo said.

She wiped her mouth. "She would have fired me. Thrown my a.s.s out."

"Are you saying that's why you lied to me, Ms. Fischer?"

The woman killed the rest of her taco, grabbed a box of popcorn chicken, and popped three bites in her mouth. She washed them down with a swig of Diet Pepsi and eyed Jo.

"You don't act surprised. Or is that your shrink demeanor?" she said.

"I'm not surprised. I'm seriously p.i.s.sed off."

Fischer looked down. "I don't know why I went along with it. It was stupid. As soon as I saw you with the brochure I knew it wouldn't work."

She dug into the popcorn chicken as though it was aspirin. Or Valium. Jo let her worry.

"Things are about to go very badly for you, workwise at a minimum. Copwise at maximum. I recommend that you tell me everything," Jo said.

Fischer sighed so hard her entire body sagged. "Yeah. Fine."

"What were you trying to accomplish?" Jo said.

"To give you the brush-off, obviously."

"Why wouldn't Riva Calder actually see me?"

"I don't know. She isn't even in the office. Hasn't been in for days. She phoned and asked me to do it."

"Why?"

"Why did she ask me to impersonate her? I'm a temp." She spread her hands. "Look at me. Who's the slowest, fattest target?" She slumped. "And now she's going to can my sorry b.u.t.t."

"Go through it from the beginning."

"I was at my desk when Riva's secretary came running down the hall. I mean running. She put me through to Riva, who said I had to do this thing."

"What did she want you to do? Particularly?"

"Placate you. Keep it vague, make you think there was nothing to find out. Get you to go away."

Jo felt a th.o.r.n.y anger poking at her. She felt insulted. And irate. And, possibly, willing to restrain herself from throwing an entire bur rito supreme at Ruth Fischer, depending on what the woman told her now.

"Why the ruse?" Jo said.

"Riva said she couldn't meet with you in person. She said it was impossible. But you needed to think you were talking to her."

"Didn't that sound weak to you?"

"It sounded off the wall."

"What does she look like?" Jo said.

"Skinny. Young, of course. Pretty, I guess, in a sharp way. Tense."

"Chicana, Asian, African-American?"

"No, white as meringue. Dresses like Vogue. The Corporate Harpies issue."

"What did you tell her?"

"I got fl.u.s.tered. It was just so weird. I didn't know if I could pull it off. She said if I didn't want to do it, she'd find somebody else. Somebody who wanted to keep their job."

"Did Riva give you instructions?"

"Play along. Don't mention my name, or hers. Said you'd presume I was her. I didn't have to lie. And that's what happened. I never confirmed for you who I was. You just a.s.sumed."

Still a lie. "What were you supposed to tell me?"

"That we couldn't release Kanan's confidential employment history. That we didn't know where he was. That there was nothing we could help you with."

"And what's the truth?"

Fischer gripped her Pepsi cup as though she wanted to throttle it. "Ian Kanan is a scary guy. A ghost who slips in and out of the office. Doesn't talk to people. Doesn't do meetings or the company picnic."

"And what does he do?"

"At Chira-Sayf there's computer security, and there's building security-rent-a-cops, same as the rest of the business park. And then there's Ian Kanan. He's off the charts. He is not a guy I want to run up against."

"Why did he go to South Africa last week?" Jo said.

"I don't know. But he wasn't going in to prep for a bigwigs' summit this time."

"Chira-Sayf has a lab in South Africa, doesn't it?"

Fischer shook her head. "Did. They shut it down."

Jo took out a notebook and pen. "What did the lab do?"

Fischer pushed her cup away. "Experimental. It was offsh.o.r.e to avoid U.S. law."

"What were they working on?" Jo said.

"It was over my head. Research. Government contracts, good works. You know, helping African business. But..." She looked around the restaurant and back at Jo. "They shut it down real suddenly."

"Why?"

"No idea. But folks were upset. Around the office, people's auras got real spiky."

Jo's pen was poised above the notebook. She set it down. "Sure."

Fischer fanned herself with her hands. "I'm probably throwing off sparks. If you could see my aura, you'd get a fire extinguisher." She attempted a smile. "Yours is light purple."

"Okay."

Fischer took her napkin and blew her nose. "People with lighter shades of purple are refining their spiritual nature. Are you actively working on that?"

"Ms. Fischer-"

"Ruth. Please."

"Ruth, what happened when Chira-Sayf shut down the South African lab?"

"Chaotic auras from some of the people. The engineers were ticked off. The execs got dark. You know, tense."

"Riva?"

"Red flares." Her narrow eyes briefly widened. "She's a soul sucker."

"How do you mean?"

"Her essence is askew. She disrespects people. She always thinks people are out to get her. Typical Silicon Valley. She's a queen bee, but she's jealous and empty. She wants to suck the spirit out of other people because she's empty herself." Fischer leaned across the table. "I'll tell you something else. She's way too interested in Ian Kanan."

"How so?"

"He's got a yellow aura, by the way. It flares above him."