Virtuality Page 8

“Not directly.”

  “And what's that supposed to mean? Out with it, Sal. What did you and your two friends do?”

  “When Vince and the babe went into Virtuality’s building, we updated the firmware on his car's ECM.”

  “Are you saying that you hacked his car?”

  “Yeah. But we could activate problems with the car or not, depending on what was needed. When the meeting went sour, we activated the hack and took control of the engine and braking system. Gave him and the girl a bad scare.”

  “You might have killed him. Then where would we be? That's why you only act on my orders. Got that, Romano?”

  “Loud and clear, sir. But it seems the car incident didn't bring van Gordon around. So maybe, with your approval of course, the best way to convince Van Gordon to sell is to use the girl to get to him.”

  “Tell me about this girl.”

  “Her name is Jessica Jamison. She has a Master’s in Computer Science and she did some programming for Vince’s brother a few months ago. So she knows a little about Virtuality. She's not just sorta smart, she's beautiful and she's a genius. Eliminate her and you remove a big problem. But Vince is a hothead. He'd never sell if we eliminated the girl. Threaten her, however, and Vince might play ball with us. Just a thought.”

  “Hold that thought, Sal. Let me think about this development and I’ll get back to you.”

  Trent ended the call and laid his cell on the desk.

  His whole plan could be jeopardized by van Gordon's refusal to sell. Yes, they could try to get to him through the girl. That was a valid option. But perhaps he should try another approach, a bold one.

  What would happen if Vince van Gordon were to die in an accident? It wasn't as clean as him selling out to Patrick Michaels, who would cooperate with LACO. Nevertheless, Trent would have his attorneys check out the legal ramifications of van Gordon’s death, including any business contract between Virtuality’s two partners.

  In the meantime, close surveillance might reveal the nature of Vince's relationship with Jessica Jamison. And that could tell Trent how Vince would react if some dreadful turn of events were to place Ms. Jamison in danger.

  He picked up his cell, opened the call log, and hit reply on the top entry.

  Chapter 10

  At ten o’clock the next morning, Vince sat in the front row of Faith Community Church.

  Jess, the woman with no other options, sat beside him.

  In the left front corner of the large sanctuary packed with people, less than twenty-five feet away, lay a closed casket containing the body of the finest man Vince had ever known.

  A large picture of Paul, standing among a group of kids, sat on top of the casket. Taped to the side of the casket was a paper banner with bold writing on it.

  I’m not here. Make sure you know where you’ll be when you’re not here.

  Paul’s idea and Paul’s words. No doubt about it.

  Pastor Harding stepped to the pulpit where he would give a room full of friends, people that Paul's life had touched, even more reasons why Vince belonged in Paul's shadow.

  The pastor spread his notes out on the podium and the murmurs in the church sanctuary turned silent. “Five days ago, I had a good visit with Paul van Gordon. Paul held to a strong, biblical worldview. In fact, his biblical view of the nature of man led to discoveries which became the technology that brought his company success. Stating Paul’s view simply—because that’s the only way I can even attempt to understand it—the human mind is only an interface to the real person. Our self-awareness, our identity, and our volition are not physical, but spiritual. No part of the real Paul van Gordon is in this room. That truth enabled Paul’s technological breakthrough. He assured me of it, but please don’t expect me to explain that to you.”

  Put in this context, Paul’s words to Vince in the CCU made sense. Vince leaned toward Jess. “This is what Paul wanted me to remember and, eventually, to understand.”

  Pastor Harding continued. “Let me try to sum up the second part of my conversation with Paul by starting with this question. Why are we here this morning?” The pastor paused for several seconds. “Let’s put aside, for the moment, the purpose of honoring this young man’s life.” He paused. “Now, having done that, I’ll ask the question again. As human beings, why are we here?” Pastor Harding paused again.

  “If we were wolves, we would sniff, smell death, and go on without a member of our pack. If we were chickens and one of our flock became Sunday dinner, we would hardly notice. If we were vultures, we—maybe we won’t go there.”

  Soft laughter sounded throughout the sanctuary.

  The pastor waited until the room quieted. “But we are human beings, the only creature that prepares its dead for something else, for something that comes next. Our being here represents a rebellion against death. We can’t stand the thought of death and we fight it literally to the death. James Loder said these words, ‘We will not let death have the last word. This is a mark of the human spirit that something in us knows we can overcome this thing.’”

  “How do we know this? Isn’t it because our creator so loved us, His creatures, that He came and lived among us—Jesus Christ, our hope and light. Christ came. Christ died. Christ rose again. And He said, by relying on Him, we could also rise again. He is our sure hope. And so Paul van Gordon gives us these words, ‘I’m not here. Make sure you know where you’ll be when you’re not here.’”

  “Now, for the other reason we're here this morning, to celebrate the life of a man who truly fit the adage larger than life …”

  Pastor Harding continued, enumerating the accolades of Vince’s brother—genius, entrepreneur, philanthropist, model Christian. Quality upon quality, deed upon deed, he presented the evidence convicting Vince that he didn't measure up. That he never would. And that Jess was right to prefer Paul.

  But Jess couldn’t have Paul. And Vince didn’t deserve a woman like Jess. The pastor’s eulogy made that clear. So he and Jess would both lose. How had their happy beginning as kids ended this way?

  That question became a gloomy cloud, darkening Vince’s thoughts. It had taken Paul’s death to reveal the truth. Vince was an inferior van Gordon, not up to van Gordon standards and he never would be. Even his writing reflected that. His agent couldn’t sell his latest novel. Publishers didn’t buy inferior stories from an author wannabe.

  He leaned forward, propping his forehead on his hand.

  Fingers slid under his other hand and curled around it.

  Did Jess know? Could she read his mind? Vince had never once told her how worthless and meaningless he felt living in Paul's shadow. But, like Paul, Jess was a genius. And she read people better than Vince could.

  Jess interlaced her fingers with his and squeezed.

  He raised his head and looked her way, his eyes welling.

  No tears in Jess’s eyes, only warmth, compassion and something else he couldn't interpret. If she loved Paul, wouldn't this service be as heart-rending for her as it was for Vince? Where were her tears for Paul?

  Before he could answer his question, the room went silent.

  What had he missed?

  Jess leaned against him. “You need to say something, Vince,” she whispered. “You're his only living relative in this room.”

  The pastor must've opened it up for people to share about Paul. Vince sat up straight and looked at Jess.

  She nodded and pushed up on his hand.

  While Jess smiled at him with dry eyes, Vince’s eyes overflowed. He wiped his cheeks as he stood.

  Jess still held his hand and she squeezed, letting him know she intended to keep it.

  But Vince offered her his other hand.

  She took it.

  He turned to face the audience. Vince cleared his throat and waited until the lump stopped choking him. “My brother, Paul, was the finest man I've ever known. He left a mighty big set of shoes to fill. But just before he died, he asked me—no, he told me I needed to try to fill them.”<
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  Someone in the back row stood and hurried out of the sanctuary. Patrick. He’d probably heard enough, though Vince had already told Patrick this bit of news, using some sharper words.

  Vince cleared his throat again. “So I'd like to ask for your prayers to help me carry out Paul's last request, because those shoes are feeling awfully big right now.” Vince’s voice broke on the last word. He turned and sat beside Jess.

  She pulled his head against her neck and held him as sorrow and regret, mixed with fear and doubt, ran down Jess’s neck.

  Others spoke.

  Vince didn’t hear their words.

  Sometime later, he lifted his head.

  Jess's neck and blouse were wet, and her eyes filled with unshed tears when she smiled at him. She had absorbed his sorrow.

  For the moment, they seemed to be two kids again, the closest of friends, heart-to-heart, soul-to-soul, nothing in between. He wished that moment could last for the rest of Vince van Gordon's life.

  Jess leaned close to him. “This is the way it used to be. Remember?”

  * * *

  Jess made sure she stuck to Vince's side through the rest of the memorial service and the short graveside service that followed. On this day, Vince needed her, and he seemed to realize that. Would he need her beyond this day of sorrow? Would the glimpse into their past, a look back to a time when two hearts had been one, change anything? Or would Vince, eventually, return to Denver?

  She had to let Vince make that decision. But Jess wouldn’t make it easy for him to leave again.

  After the graveside service, Vince and Jess had lunch at a local deli. There, Vince’s protective shield had gone up again. Through the two services and most of their lunch, it had been down.

  The Vince of her childhood, the only person who would bare his soul to Jessica Jamison, had returned for nearly two hours. She would've gladly told him she loved that Vince, but words about love and lifetime commitments would not be discussed until Vince could tell her truthfully that he loved her and wanted her, not just as a friend, but also as a lover and a wife.

  Vince pushed back his chair from the deli table and reach out a hand. “Time to meet with Monahan.”

  She took Vince’s hand and waited until he met her gaze. “Are you ready for this? We could postpone it.”

  “I’m ready. Thanks to you, Jess. We couldn’t get into Paul’s safe to read that partnership agreement. But it’s probably better to let a lawyer tell us if there are any surprises in Paul’s and Patrick's contract.”

  Vince led her out to his car and opened the door.

  She stopped before sliding in. “There's more to this meeting than that agreement.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m guessing that you're the sole beneficiary of Paul's estate. Well, all except what he gave away to the home and the church.”

  “The home? What’s that?”

  She slid in. “I'll tell you about it sometime. But, right now, we need to examine our legal weapons of warfare against Patrick. Did you see how he left the service when you—”

  “I saw it. When I said I’d be trying to fill Paul's shoes, he left to rally his troops.”

  “Or maybe his hackers?”

  Vince circled the car and slid in the driver’s seat. “I hope not. After all, Paul and Patrick were once good friends who became business partners. And Patrick is, supposedly, a Christian.”

  “But that type of business relationship, partnership, has ended many a friendship.”

  “Yeah. But, Jess...” he waited for her to look at him, then took her hand. The warm look in Vince’s eyes and his set jaw told her that the font of their conversation had just changed … to bold italics.

  “Yes.” She whispered, then held her breath.

  “Nothing can ever do that to our friendship. I won't let that happen again, ever. I promise.”

  Friendship. One down, two to go. But would Vince’s feelings for her ever include the whole package, lover and wife? Her worst fear was that nobody could feel that way about Jessica Jamison. The man she loved more than life hadn’t yet been able to do that. But his bold, italicized words had given Jess a measure of hope. But all he had promised her was to be her friend.

  * * *

  At half past one, Jess and Vince sat side-by-side in a small law office across a round conference table from Daniel Monahan, Paul's lawyer, a fifty-something man with a kindly face and eyes that radiated intelligence.

  The warmth coming from Jess had cooled over the last half hour. What had Vince done and how could he get it back?

  One thing had become clear today, he wanted Jess in his life. But she wasn’t something that Paul could pass on to Vince in a will. First, Jess had to—he needed to focus on Monahan’s words. His future, and probably Jess’s, might depend on the legal matters at hand.

  Monahan put on his reading glasses, sorted some papers lying in front of him, and placed a legal-size document on top. “Since Paul left his share of Virtuality to you, Vince, you now own fifty-one percent, controlling interest.”

  “But Jess owns nine-tenths of a percent.”

  “I stand corrected. You own fifty-point-one percent.” Monahan looked at the papers that lay in front of him. He pulled another one out and placed it on top. “The agreement between Paul and Patrick says that Paul's beneficiaries can inherit his interest in the company … if Paul has a will. Paul had a will, therefore the transfer of ownership to you is uncontestable. But, if the partner doesn’t have a will, the agreement says the surviving partner can purchase the deceased partner’s share of the company at a fair market value as assessed by a financial organization approved by the National Association of Certified Valuation Analysts. The money goes to whomever the court awards the deceased’s estate. You don’t have a will do you, Vince?”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I don’t, but your lawyer called and—”

  “My lawyer? I don’t have a lawyer. Haven’t needed one so far, because I can rely on the legal counsel of my agent and my publisher.”

  “Vince …” Jess blew out a blast of air. “Their spying on you.”

  “Who?”

  “Patrick and the people backing him.”

  “Maybe. But let me get this straight, Dan. If I die, Patrick gets controlling interest?”

  Daniel Monahan folded his hands in front of him on the table. “He gets complete ownership, providing he can pay the assessed value.”

  Jess laid her hand on Vince’s. “Patrick thinks Virtuality is worth eight million dollars, and he thinks he has the money to buy out Vince.”

  Vince locked gazes with Monahan. “Paul told me not to sell the company under any conditions. So here's what I want you to do, Dan. Draw up a will that gives my interest in Virtuality and everything else I own, my book rights, my royalties, everything, to Jess.”

  “No, Vince.” She shook her head, sending her long, dark hair whipping her cheeks.

  “Jess, you're the best person, the nearest thing to—no, you are family.” Vince turned toward Monahan. “Can you draw up something quickly? We've already had one close call and now someone is spying on me.”

  “A close call?” Monahan slid his reading glasses down his nose and peered over the top. “Are you saying there's been an attempt on your life?”

  Jess blew out another blast of air. “It sure looks that way. But it could have been a warning instead of attempted murder.”

  Vince pounded a fist on the table. “Patrick knew about the stipulation in the contract. Jess, he's trying to—”

  “Vince, you don't know that. There's a third party involved, the people with the money. We don't know who they are or what they're up to … other than wanting Patrick to be in control of Virtuality.”

  “Monahan, draw up the will and I'll sign it as soon as it's ready. I'm going to have a talk with Patrick and I want to see what's going on in my lab. That will tell us what's really at stake here. It will tell us what Virtuality has that would make
people murder to get it.”

  “Vince, they could have killed us both yesterday. In that case, even with a will, Patrick would still get Virtuality. A will isn’t foolproof protection.”

  Jess was right, but he needed to end all the mystery surrounding the company. “All the more reason that I need to see Patrick.”

  “Then I'm going with you. No way will I let you go out there alone.” She looked at the lawyer. “Monahan, please draw up a will for me too? I want to leave everything I own to Vince. And, if he’s … if Vince is dead, I want everything I own to go to Harold Scholes.”

  Vince shot her a glance. “Who’s Harold Scholes?”

  “A missionary in Cambodia. He’s also the director of the home.”

  Vince opened his mouth to speak.

  Jess cut him off. “I said I’d tell you about it later.”

  “And your wills will be ready to sign …” Monahan looked at his tablet computer sitting beside the stack of papers. “The day after tomorrow.”

  * * *

  Jess glanced at the clock on Vince’s rental car. 2:45 p.m. He’d had a lead foot all the way out to Snoqualmie, and she hadn’t been able to calm Vince down.

  Since Jess was a young girl, she’d hated seeing Vince lose his cool. It had seldom happened. But, when it had, it usually had something to do with her, and it had occasionally resulted in someone getting their face smashed. The person had always deserved it. But still …

  If Vince pounded Patrick, like he had the teenage kid who said lewd things to Jess, Vince could find himself in jail. An arrest, even without a conviction, might prevent him from getting a Top-Secret clearance. Not a good thing for the CEO of a company that develops Top Secret products for the military.

  After they arrived, Vince got out and strode toward the front door that opened into the lobby. Patrick’s office was on one side of the lobby and the entry to the lab on the other. Thankfully, the lab had a cipher lock on the door. Otherwise, Vince might barge in and soon find himself locked up in Leavenworth.

  Jess hurried to catch him.

  Patrick stood in the doorway of his office, looking like he was blocking the entrance. Evidently, he’d seen them drive up.