Virtuality Page 18

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  Vince cracked his eyes. Sunlight flooded the cabin through the living room window. Something tickled his nose each time he inhaled. He raised his right hand to scratch his itching nose, because his left arm was pinned down by one-hundred-fifteen pounds of the most beautiful clay on the planet.

  He could see through the open bedroom door. The covers were turned down, but there was no sign that anyone had slept there.

  Jess lay on her side, facing him, arms around him. Several strands of her hair lay against his nose.

  He’d been inhaling them then exhaling them, while they tickled his nose, until he’d been forced to scratch it. He had also been inhaling the sweet fragrance of Jess. Vince had done that many times as a kid, but never in this context and never as an adult.

  Her deep, steady breathing attested to her exhaustion from the physical and emotional stress of the night and the previous day. Maybe she’d had nightmares about the falls and couldn’t rest peacefully alone in the bedroom. But she was doing just that curled around him.

  Paul’s words replayed. Jess needs you, Vince.

  Had he been reading Jess wrongly? Even if Vince was second in line behind his brother, maybe Jess really did need him? Maybe …

  She stirred. Her eyes popped open and widened, inches from his. She drew a sharp breath, then let it out slowly. Her lips curved ever so slightly, forming her enigmatic smile.

  At least that’s what the blurry face too close to focus on appeared to be doing.

  “We did it, Vince.” She blew out a blast of air and put a pout on her lips. “We broke all the rules. We both swore we would never sleep with anyone until—”

  “Not all the rules, Jess.”

  His remark turned her face pink. She turned away and looked across the room toward the wall clock. “It’s nine o’clock. Shouldn’t we—”

  “Call the professor?” He kissed her forehead and nudged her up with his left arm.

  She sat up on the couch. “Are you going to call Dr. Scoggins now?”

  “Yeah. But first, we need to decide what to say when we call. Then we need to come up with a list of questions that we want him to answer when we meet. What do you think I should tell him?”

  Jess studied the wall on the other side of the room as if the answer to his question were written there. “Tell him … Paul gave you his share of Virtuality and that there are people who want to take it away from you so badly they have tried to kill you. Then mention that you know Paul talked with him about the technology. You’re not a geek, so you’re looking for an explanation of why anyone would be so desperate to gain control of Virtuality that they would kill for it.”

  “That’s some heavy stuff to hit him with out of the blue. I don’t want to scare him off with my phone call.”

  “It is heavy stuff,” Jess said. “But I think Paul already discussed some serious issues with Scoggins. And because of what the professor researches, I’m guessing he’ll be more intrigued than alarmed.”

  “I grabbed Paul’s cell when I picked up my bag at the house. Hopefully, he has the professor in his contacts.” Vince stood, raised his arms and stretched out the kinks in his shoulders and neck. When he lowered his arms, Jess had stepped inside their reach and rested her cheek against his chest.

  She spoke softly and her voice dropped to her low alto. “If this meeting with Scoggins doesn’t lead to a plan of action, one we think will work … then it’s time for us to go to Alaska, sweetheart.” She looked up into his eyes.

  Vince had already melted at the sound of that sultry voice but repeating his term of endearment with that look in her eyes, the look that had always been reserved for Jess’s most solemn revelations, opened the flood gates holding back long pent up emotions.

  There was no going back to the fractured relationship that had put a thousand miles and seven years between them.

  Jess reached up and wiped a tear from his cheek. “You’re a big softy, Vince van Gordon. But I love you for it.”

  Loved him? “Jess … how did I ever walk away from—”

  She pressed her fingers over his lips. “It never happened. Remember? We’re starting again as two kids, soulmates, who are ready for whatever comes next for us.”

  For there to be a next, he had to find the source of the danger to them and eliminate it.

  Since they were eight or nine, Vince had always eliminated danger to Jess. Not that she couldn’t take care of herself. But Vince had always been there to blacken eyes, bloody noses, and, in general, beat the living crud out of anybody who threatened her. For years, no one in South King County would bother Jessica Jamison out of fear of Vince’s brutal sense of justice and his ability to enforce it.

  Their pursuers, however, hadn’t come from South King County. And Vince had to begin protecting Jess again, without the aid of fear and intimidation. That protection would start with this phone call. “You said, ‘whatever comes next’. Right now, the phone call to Scoggins is next. You’d better pray he has some good advice or some light to shed on our situation. If not, we might be headed for Alaska sooner than you think.”

  Jess cupped his cheek. “If it didn’t mean the technology falling into the wrong hands, I’d vote for Alaska right now.”

  “Yeah. Me too.” He wrapped up Jess in his arms and let the realization sink in that Jess wanted what he wanted, apparently as much as he wanted it.

  He released Jess and reached for his duffle bag, while he pictured a for-sale sign in front of his Denver townhouse.

  Vince picked up his duffle bag and pulled out Paul’s cell. He booted the phone and waited. When the home screen lit, he opened the contacts and jumped to the S section. “Bingo.” Vince pressed the call button.

  “Scoggins, here.”

  The voice was pleasant, not pompous. Vince already like this man. “Dr. Scoggins, this is Vince van Gordon.”

  “Paul’s brother? I wondered if you might call. I’m so sorry about Paul. Our whole community lost a wonderful man.”

  “Yes, we did.” A lump in his throat choked off his last word. Vince paused until he could control his voice. “Professor, I’m just a writer, but Paul left me controlling interest in Virtuality and I have—we have run into some serious problems.”

  “May I ask who we includes?”

  “Jessica Jamison has been helping me. I’ve known her for a long time.”

  “Ms. Jamison—one of the brightest students to graduate since your brother. Consider yourself blessed to have her on your side.”

  Blessed? This man sounded like a believer. Certainly not a typical professor of Sociology. Maybe that’s why Paul sought him out. “Yes, sir. I am blessed to have Jess working with me.”

  Jess stepped to his side and draped an arm around his waist.

  Vince toggled the speaker phone for Jess to listen.

  “The problems I mentioned—are you, or others connected with Virtuality Incorporated, in any kind of danger?”

  Why would Scoggins mention danger? Was it something Paul said or something Scoggins’s research uncovered? And how much should Vince reveal at this point? Vince went with, “Yes.”

  “I feared that might happen, but not so quickly. How soon can you and Jessica meet with me here on campus?”

  “How about this afternoon?”

  “That works. Meet me at my office at 4:00 p.m. It’s on the second floor of Savery Hall. Do you know where that is?”

  Jess poked his shoulder and nodded to him.

  “Yeah. Uh, yes, sir. We’ll be there.” Vince ended the call.

  Jess looked up at him, concern etched into the lines on her face. “Don’t you mean we’ll be there if those three stooges don’t find us first?”

  “Jess, the whole time we were growing up. Did I ever let anyone hurt you?”

  She took his hand. “But this is different. These guys have guns, automatic weapons, and they seem to enjoy shooting them at us.”

  She was right, but Vince could feel his fingers curling around Curly’s neck. It would tak
e more than a bullet to stop Vince from wringing it. And something deep inside told him this drama would not end until Vince had done just that.

  Chapter 23

  If Vince took the shortest route to the University of Washington campus, it would take Jess and him through areas where they had encountered the three gunmen. To minimize the chances of being spotted, Vince had driven south, through Auburn, and then cut over to I-5 using Highway 18.

  Jess, sitting beside him in the truck, pointed at the dashboard clock. “We’re going to get to campus at least an hour early. Take the 599 exit. I want to show you something.” She pointed ahead to the rightmost lane.

  Vince exited onto 599. “Where are we going?”

  “Take the first exit. It drops us onto Interurban. Then go right.”

  “Go right to where, Jess?”

  “The home.”

  He glanced her way. “So I’m finally going to see the house of mystery?”

  “It’s not really a house, but it is a home. It’s hard to describe. You have to see it for yourself.” She paused. “Vince, there are some things you probably didn’t know about Paul. I live here, but I didn’t know them until recently. Here’s the exit.”

  Jess directed him down Interurban and across a bridge into a residential area bordering on commercial property. “Turn in here.” She pointed at a gated driveway. The gate was closed.

  After he stopped the truck, Jess climbed out, pushed the gate open, then hopped in beside Vince.

  “This looks like a big place and it’s set back off the street at least fifty yards.”

  “That’s not all. The backyard borders the Duwamish River. It’s peaceful here, except for a little road noise from the cars on I-5 across the river.”

  The house had been expanded until it looked like a single-story school. Or maybe a hospital. “Must be a big family.”

  “You could say that.” Jess touched his arm then pointed to their right. “Park beside the van.”

  Vince pulled in and cut the engine.

  Music came from the house. And voices, singing. The voices of children?

  “Chapel time is almost over.” Jess slid out and closed her door. “Let’s go in so you can meet them.”

  She led him to large double doors and opened them.

  “What kind of family has chapel time? They must have a lot of kids.”

  “You got that right.” Jess pulled him inside.

  The large entryway opened to a huge room. Ahead, to their right, seemed to be the source of the singing.

  Jess led him into that room.

  Vince drew a sharp breath after they entered on the side of the spacious room.

  Four long rows of chairs, more than a dozen chairs per row, faced a platform to their left.

  The singing was led by a large man playing an acoustic guitar, but Vince’s gaze quickly focused on the boys. He scanned them, slowly.

  Their ages might have ranged from seven or eight up to late teens. Some looked healthy. Others had no hair. Several had gaunt faces with dark circles around sunken eyes. But one thing they all had in common, they sang, holding back nothing.

  Vince scanned the boys again. They had another thing in common. The intensity in their eyes was unmistakable, determined, almost fierce.

  He looked at Jess. “Tell me what I’m seeing here.”

  “First, listen to them for a moment. It’s beautiful, Vince.”

  The voices crescendoed on the next line. “We’ll fly away when Jesus calls our name. No more chemo no more pain.”

  Jess leaned close to him. “They changed the words a little,” she whispered.

  “Fly away on angel’s wings, to meet our God to meet our King.”

  Their words were more than praise. They were telling a story. “Are they all sick?”

  She nodded. “Terminal, according to the doctors. But the survival rate here is about forty-five percent after two years.”

  The song ended, and the leader slid out of his guitar strap, set it on the stage and began speaking to the boys.

  “Where did they all come from?”

  “Paul’s spies. He has a network of informants at hospitals, clinics, schools, shelters, and on the streets. These are all boys with no one either able or willing to take care of them. All dying. But what did you see in their eyes and hear in their singing?”

  “Determination. Fierce determination.”

  “Yes. They know the stakes. Did you see any fear?”

  “No. They looked like soldiers going into battle … well, it’s how I’ve always pictured sold—.” The lump in Vince’s throat choked off his words.

  “They get the finest medical treatment, good nutrition and spiritual nourishment. A formula for health. Paul told you everything he left behind is yours. So what do you intend to do with this?”

  Vince’s eyes blurred. He wiped them before—too late. He swiped at his cheek.

  Jess wiped his other cheek. “You’re a big softy, Vince van Gordon. Paul was smart.”

  “Everybody knew that about Paul.” Vince took Jess’s hand.

  “He was also right. He knew what he was doing. Now, what are you going to do with the home?”

  He drew a breath, half-choking on it. “No matter what, Jess. We’ve got to keep this place open. Otherwise …” Otherwise was unthinkable.

  “You’re a good man, Vince van Gordon. And that’s why Paul gave everything to you.”

  That was debatable ... the good man part. But Jess was right about Paul trusting him. For whatever reason, his big brother had trusted Vince with the things most dear to Paul’s heart. Then he put Vince in charge of Virtuality. It was too big a burden for too small a man.

  “Jess … I can’t do this without you.”

  “What can’t you do without me?” She studied his face and waited.

  “Any of it. I guess that’s why Paul said …” Paul hadn’t finished, but the words that remained unspoken when Paul ran out of time Vince had clearly understood.

  “Why Paul said what?”

  “That I should trust you, listen to you, because I needed you.”

  Jess hooked his arm and laid her head against Vince’s shoulder. “And …” Her voice had turned to a hoarse whisper. “I can’t be that person without you.”

  They slipped out during the leader’s closing prayer.

  Jess walked silently beside him, still hanging on to his arm.

  For the moment, it felt good and right to have Jess on his arm, knowing they would be a team. But Vince had a lot of questions about what he’d seen, starting with … “Jess, how’s the home financed?”

  “I think it’s supported eighty percent by Paul and about twenty percent by other donors. If Virtuality were to go out of business, the home would probably have to close.”

  “Then we’ve got to make sure that doesn’t happen. Whatever it takes.”

  As they approached the truck, Jess looked up and smiled. “You know, you’re more like your big brother than you think.”

  It was quiet in the truck as Vince headed up Interurban Avenue and took the on-ramp to I-5 north, headed toward the UW campus.

  Forty minutes later, Vince and Jess entered the first floor of Savery Hall, five minutes early for their 4:00 p.m. meeting.

  Jess stopped after entering the building and studied the two intersecting hallways. “This building has had a facelift since I took my Sociology classes.” She pointed at the stairs. “Modern stairs that a student can walk up without fearing they might fall down.”

  “Falling down? The stairs or the student?” Vince gave her a smirky smile. “When you use pronouns like that, the antecedent isn’t clear, especially when a person is speaking rather than someone reading the words on a page.”

  Jess started up the stairway. “Look, I may have taken my liberal arts classes here, but I never claimed to be an English major. I write code, not trashy novels.”

  “Are you insinuating that—”

  “If the shoe fits, Vince.”

 
; “Have you ever read one of my novels?”

  “Yes.” Her voice had softened and deepened.

  “How many?”

  “All of them. Bad endings and all. But, Vince, we should be focusing on Dr. Scoggins and what we’re going to ask him.”

  While he was trying to forget her, trying to abandon Jess, she had been following him and his writing. How much more had he gotten wrong about this woman?

  Vince took the steps two at a time until he caught Jess at the top of the stairway. He hooked her elbow.

  When she turned to face him, curiosity filled those pale blue eyes.

  “Well, did you like them?”

  She gave him her enigmatic smile. “What do you think, Vince?”

  What he thought was entirely inappropriate for two people trying to stay alive and looking for clues about who wanted to kill them. Those two plump, unpainted lips he had focused on lay at the center of his thoughts. But this wasn’t a good time or place for—

  “Well, what do you think?”

  What did they call women like her? “Femme fatale. That’s it.”

  “What did you just call me? And quit looking at me like that.” She put her hands on her hips. “The professor’s office is right behind you. Are we going in or are you going to keep gawking at me like some adolescent boy who’s going to grow up and cut off his ear?”

  It would only get worse if he took the bait and played her game. Vince turned and knocked on the door to Dr. Scoggins’ office.

  On the third rap of Vince’s knuckles, the door swung open and he stood face-to-face with a thirty-something, dark-skinned man who stood around five-foot-ten and consisted of at least two-hundred pounds of muscle. Scoggins didn’t wear glasses, had no beard, and looked more like a wide receiver or a corner for the Seattle Seahawks than Vince’s stereotype of a college professor.

  “Mr. Vince van Gordon, I presume.” Scoggins stuck out a pink-palmed hand.

  Vince took it, then nodded toward Jess. “And this is Jessica Jamison my … uh …” What should he call Jess when things were still awkward and tentative?

  “Hello, professor. I’m Vince’s technical advisor,” Jess said, rescuing him.

  “Your reputation precedes you, Ms. Jamison. Good to finally meet you. Come in and have a seat.”