Essentially Human Page 20

  The cool water ran down her throat and she considered the shift in her perspective. She no longer thought of Sam first as a naval investigator or interrogator, but as a therapist. The moniker fit him. People were just another puzzle, much more complex than the conspiracies and crimes they’d untangled the last few decades.

  Shifting her hands on the steering wheel, she further embraced the idea of like knowing Sam as a friend, and no longer the boss.

  A glance to her right revealed Sam, arms crossed loosely, head leaning back against the padded rest, softly snoring. Jermaine had all but collapsed into the back seat. The speedometer clocked her at well over a hundred miles per hour, but the lack of traffic made that velocity more than legal. She’d have to slow down when they reached the area around the capitol, but with luck, they’d be pulling into Drum’s driveway before sunset.

  Jarveski had fed them a hearty breakfast before they left his home. Sam stood, staring at Ria, who hadn’t seemingly hadn’t moved since he’d left her on the couch. His mentor set a hand on his arm and urged him to the door.

  “I will take care of her. I do understand.”

  Both men had been asleep before she’d driven five miles. She smiled ruefully at her reflection in the rear view mirror. The black hair took some getting used to, but it certainly changed her appearance enough to hide from casual glances.

  The countryside flashed by, mile after mile. Change drifted around them and for the first time in her entire life, she realized not knowing what was going to happen filled her with excitement, not dread.

  17

  Sam took over the last part of the drive while Hermione checked in with her sources, making certain Drummond’s house would be clear of surveillance. From all appearances, agents had been reassigned and they were in the clear. He doubted Homeland security gave up believing Drum would lead them to the fugitives. Perhaps they were simply too busy dealing with the security inroads Hermione spoke of.

  The delay in New York, to change vehicles and touch base with the underground, chaffed, but Hermione insisted. And he admitted, it had done his spirit good to walk down Madison Avenue and see citizens watching the news, excited and full of hopeful anticipation. Instead of dread. The established political voices in Washington said little, but the newly elected hinted at changes in the wind and revelations to come.

  Sam found it encouraging. No panic, no fear. Just…a buzz. But he’d desperately need that talk with his old friend about Ria. Guilt warred with cynicism and suspicion in regards to his behavior. Add in the revelation that his friend and mentor had been colluding and he couldn’t stop the bouncing ball inside his head.

  How had he been so unaware of their collaboration? He recalled introducing them at the memorial service, but little else remained vivid about that day. A deep inhalation, counting to seven and then out his nose…well, it had certainly simplified what he needed to tell Jarveski about Ria.

  The man already knew it all. Drum had even deduced the strands visible in the MRI might be something implanted in her hair.

  “Drummond examined the recordings of her, using every bit of facial software available, and could find no signs of deception. If she had known of the strands, it seems logical she would have considered them and contemplated some form of escape. Or she would have made more of an effort to hide them. Her unconsciousness betrays her ignorance.” Jarveski spread his hands and smiled slightly. “Drum tasked her alien patron and he admitted as much.”

  “He’s been in touch with Drummond the entire time?”

  “I don’t believe so, but in the last few weeks, it’s been very regular. Enough to concern the doctor. T’talin reassured both of us that no one was listening in. It’s very difficult to doubt the man, or whatever he is.”

  “He’s a male, but…” Sam had leaned forward and rubbed his eyes. “Why not contact us?”

  “I believe you were riskier, having no set destination.”

  Sam had to let it go. Trying to explain why Ria’s wellbeing mattered so much had drained him. The professor had been merciless, leaving behind more questions than answers.

  He had to move forward. His country was on the brink of a reality shift so huge he feared for the general population. First, he’d check in with Drum, then he’d see about allies in Washington.

  Hermione snapped her phone closed. “According to Drum, Hammer disappeared two days ago and there has been no word on his whereabouts. The navy tried to find him, citing some disturbance at the site of the last sonar weapon test. But they’ve had no luck. His pet admiral has vanished also. As a result, every item of information he’s supplied in the last few months is under review. You know how fast the worm turns.”

  Sam chuckled.

  “Drum suggests we park a few blocks away and walk, using the back path. A cruiser still passes the house every hour, like clockwork.”

  “Count on the local cops to be obvious.” Jermaine yawned and stretched. “Hope Dad has taken time to restock the frig.”

  They pulled into the neighborhood an hour shy of the sun going down. Sam parked where Jermaine recommended and they made their way to the back via the neighbor three doors down. The grass in the yard had grown shaggy and weeds sprouted near the walkways. Jermaine bent and yanked one out as they neared the front, tossed it to side. “Place goes to ruin with Mom gone.”

  The door opened and Drum stood, a grin on his face. “Seems like you just left, Jer.”

  He hugged his dad. “Not too long, but H took good care of me. What’s to eat?”

  The big black man laughed, winked at Hermione and pulled Sam into the kitchen. “Good disguise, all that hair. And you’ve gotten some serious sun exposure.”

  Sam studied his friend, noting his weight loss and the lines on his face. “Been a rough few months. But I hear you’ve been busy.”

  “I have enjoyed getting to know your old professor. A very astute man. He sent me a heads up. Our clandestine partnership is over. Well, it was time. I think you did well to leave Ria with him.”

  “Not much choice right now. She freezes up around me.” Sam examined the room. “Is it secure here?”

  “As much as I can make it so. Let’s see what I have to eat and retire to the garage.” He turned as his son slammed the refrigerator door shut.

  “When was the last time you went grocery shopping, old man?”

  “That bad? It’s just me.” Drum snorted.

  “Come on, H. We need to do a grocery run. We can head across the tracks, they don’t know me at that new megastore and we can restock with the jumbo size. Get some protein and ice cream.”

  Hermione pulled the keys from her pocket and held the door open as Jermaine stepped back out into the night, head down, muttering about crackers and bread.

  Sam pulled out a chair and sat down. “So, they pulled surveillance off of you. When did they come after Jermaine?”

  “Knocked on the door the day after he disappeared with Hermione. His friend, Todd, gave him up after they threatened to seize his mom’s house. Can’t blame the kid. Claimed he didn’t know what Jer was doing, only that they’d done the identity swap years ago.”

  “I’m surprised they didn’t haul you in.”

  “Oh, the head man wanted to but I do have friends among the local peace officers. I admitted I knew Jer had the internship, but had no idea he’d taken it under a false name.” Drum tapped on the table top. “The internet has been full of leaks and the firewalls at work continually fail. Searches for general information turn up all sorts of fascinating secured data. No one is turning a blind eye to the federal government’s involvement in deceiving the populace.”

  Leaning back, Sam stared at the ceiling. “It’s about time.”

  “How long have you been suspicious, Sam?” Drum lifted an eyebrow. “You’re too smart to have embraced all the propaganda these last few decades.”

  “I was approached when I was in graduate school. The underground told me I was on a federal short list to lead up a profile team. I
laughed, thinking they were nuts.”

  “And?”

  “And a week later I was visited by a Naval Captain and asked to help out with the war on terror.” Sam drew a deep breath. “I wasn’t a double agent, but I was a man on the inside. Three times in the last thirty years I’ve been fed information and steered into paths that the department didn’t sanction. I had no idea they were so organized.”

  “Good thing we were.” Drum cleared his throat. “They were. I mean they were.”

  “Uh huh.” It didn’t matter. Layer upon layer of secrecy is why the underground had been able to help him and prepare the country for the revelations to come. Though he doubted they’d been aware of the aliens deep in the Atlantic.

  A tap on the back door saw Drum get up. “Kid must have forgotten something…”

  Sam’s instincts rose a second too late. The door burst open and Drum flew back into the kitchen, to fall against the drawers, twitching. A stunner held by a thin man kept him pinned down.

  “No moves, Agent Montgomery, or I will up the voltage and stop his heart. Hands up.”

  Drum’s eyes blinked and he tried to push up.

  “Stay down, Drum.” There were no moves to make. Sam raised his hands and didn’t resist as a second man snapped handcuffs on and yanked him around. Alfred Hammer gazed at him with satisfaction.

  “I knew you’d eventually come back. Where is the author?”

  “Dead.”

  “Scicle, show the agent I am serious.”

  Drum moaned as the stunner fired again. Sam swallowed the impulse to throw himself at the weapon holder.

  “Now, where is the author?” Hammer’s cold eyes studied him, sending a chill up his spine. The man had no soul. He’d left millions to die rather than cure them, sucked the vitality out of the alternate energy industry, destroyed San Diego… And he’d kill Drum without blinking. But Hermione was free and she’d know what to do.

  “I left her with another friend. Far away.”

  “How far away?”

  “Boston area.”

  “Ah, your old mentor. Fine.” Hammer pulled out a cell phone and frowned at it. “Damned nuisance.” Hammer knelt and pulled the probes from Drum’s chest. “You will contact the woman and see her brought to Washington. Dr. Drummond. I’ll exchange her for Agent Montgomery. If you want to see this man alive again, you’ll bring her. You have three days, Jefferson Memorial, at dusk.”

  The villain didn’t wait for Drum to acknowledge his words, simple stood and strode from the house. “Bring him.”

  Once he was outside he could…the blow to the back of his head destroyed whatever plan he’d considered.

  *****

  Hermione saw the doorway gaping open and held Jermaine back. “Put the box down, Jer.” She knelt and removed the pistol at her ankle. The young man was suitably cowed that he didn’t argue with her. She carefully made her way to the door and nudged it open further. A chair lay on its side…

  “Dad?” Jermaine pushed past her and hurried in to kneel at his father’s side. She checked out the rest of the house, but no sign of Sam. By the time she returned to the kitchen, Drum was sitting in a chair, drinking a glass of water, a hand shaking so much his son needed to steady it.

  “What happened, Drum?”

  “Hammer took…Sam. Forced him to say where Ria was. Call Jarveski and warn him. We need them here.”

  Hermione pulled her cell phone out and called.

  Jarveski’s machine picked up. She didn’t waste words. “You need to get Ria and head south. Call from New York and I’ll give you a location to head for. Hammer has Sam and knows where you are. Go! Now!”

  The phone clicked and the therapist spoke two words, “We’re gone.”

  “Okay.” H turned to survey the Drummonds. “He took Sam, even after getting the information of where Ria is.”

  “I don’t think his cell phone would work. He snarled at it and told me to bring Ria to Washington or he’d kill Sam. He wants an exchange.”

  “Why would he be so certain we’d be willing to trade?” Jermaine shook his head. “She’s a human being, not ransom.”

  “He knows she may not be human and Sam is more important.” Hermione blinked. “Let him have her.”

  “No. She is more than human.” Drum rose to his feet, still unsteady. “Jermaine, I need to get to the bunker.”

  “You should get to the hospital,” his son objected.

  “No, I need to contact T’talin. And get help.”

  *****

  Ria wandered the music laboratory, fingers lighting on the equipment, the wires, dials and monitors. After traveling across the east coast the last few months, she’d seen a great deal of technology and to her eyes, this work space appeared quite old fashioned. Jarveski puttered about, quite at home. He fussed at a chair that reminded her of a barbershop chair, adjusting its height and angle of recline.

  She paused in front of a monitor with a scrolling list of text. Focusing in, she recognized titles from her song list. Seeing them like this, stark against the dark background sharpened her awareness of how melancholy the top ten titles were. A series of numbers followed the titles and she studied them trying to ascertain what they designated.

  Figures had never been her strong point. Early in her career, her agent had attempted to explain how royalties, advances and percentages functioned in regards to her book sales and it all blurred into a mishmash of confusion for her.

  How she’d protested. But George had persevered and she’d eventually understood most of it. Agreeing with the logic behind it all had never latched on. In fact, her disillusion with publishing in general grew along with understanding it all. Then, being an idiot, she turned her attention to environmental activism and been crucified by those who fought dirty in the name of keeping the country safe.

  Shaking her head, she leaned over a chair and lifted a hand to trace the numbers.

  “It’s a personal shorthand of how often songs were listened to, what time of day, the first time to the last. I can click a certain title…” He reached around her and tapped on the keyboard and a graph appeared. “Here I can see frequency, identify trends. And examine the lyrics.” He pointed to a second monitor, set up next to the first and she realized it had changed also. “I can look at the biographies of the songwriter, the vocalist, any of the factors that can affect how the listener identifies with the music in question.”

  She straightened. “But you can’t know the personal pivotal events associated with when one first heard a song.”

  “True, which is why this is just a computer program, but you are necessary for it to grow beyond that limitation. Your honesty and willingness to take part cannot be underestimated. I can extrapolate a great deal, but not the absolute individual connection. Until a few months ago, I was faced by a dead end. I’d gone as far as I could with current technology, though I believed more advanced tools existed. I was denied access to them. Then…” He glanced up at her, the light reflecting off his small spectacles, “…the Aleena stepped in. My data base has grown exponentially, the threads connecting lyric to musical key, to chord progression, to social era, to every possible nuance, is now all here, around us.”

  Ria gazed about the dimly lit room. Did she want to know? The sheer weight of exploring her past caused her back to bow.

  He touched her shoulder. “You are not fragile. The more Samwise spoke of his travels with you, the plainer that became to me. It’s a role, you are so accustomed to play you aren’t even aware of its stranglehold.” Taking her elbow he urged her toward the chair. “Aren’t you ready to leave that behind? Discover and embrace your strengths?”

  The option to resist his words tempted her. What a cowardly consideration. No, I don’t want to leave it behind. No, I don’t want to discover and embrace my strength? The reality was worse. Laziness, she didn’t want to exert herself and do the actual work. The goal shone atop a peak that required a steep, painful climb. Taking a big breath, she rolled her shoulders
and considered. Standing still and staring at that light brought no peace. Time to take the first step.

  She slid onto the curve of the chair and set her head back. “What do I do?”

  “Trust me.” He lowered a helmet around her skull. It was snug, but her actual face wasn’t covered. “Later, there is a faceplate that may be helpful, but let’s start with basic readings. I’ll be able to follow the patterns musical selections will trigger within your brain. We’ll talk, I’ll be asking questions and all I ask is that you be honest. With me and with yourself.”

  Decades ago, she’d been in therapy, talked about her feelings, traced the origins of old wounds, discovered what prompted certain behaviors. That work consisted of words, this went deeper. Music, and the evocative connection to memories. She understood that, he’d explained the process. Swallowing, she squeezed her eyes shut, the opened them and nodded. “Okay.”

  Patting her hand, he smiled, then withdrew to the console where the multiple monitors waited. “I’m going to select songs from you playlist and build a working baseline. I already have some idea of where to begin. Now I’ll see how accurate I was.”

  The next six hours engaged and fascinated her, drawing out a discussion on the nature of music and the connection lyrics made to the listener. Her writer-self rose to the challenge of defending word choice, addressing the era and social connection to the songs, and by the end of the session, the ties to who she’d been tightened.

  They took a break and began again.

  As she sat back into the chair, she turned her head to look at Sam’s mentor, staring at the screens in front of him. He glanced up. “I’ve selected a series of songs for you to just listen to. Some you’ll know, some you may not know. I understand that Rachel suffered from chronic depression, I’m not certain that is correct for Ria.”