Fade To Midnight. Shannon McKenna

“That long?” He rotated his shoulders, rolled his head on his neck. “No wonder I’m so stiff. All the more reason to get right to it. Come on. Be a pal. Hand over that laptop, buddy.”

      “No!” Bruno yelled.

      Kev sighed. This was going to take more finessing, and Christ knew he didn’t have the energy. “I’ve remembered some more,” he offered. “About Osterman. I was right. He was doing experiments on me. That was why I jumped Patil. He looked exactly like the guy.”

      “I saw the picture,” Bruno growled. “I figured that out for myself.”

      “Experiments?” Tony grunted, unimpressed. “Fuckin’ scientists.”

      “Mind control stuff,” Kev said. “Shutting down my brain was the way I used to fight the mind control thing. That’s why I’m going into these comas. It’s a defensive reflex.”

      “That’s all great, but Osterman’s dead,” Bruno snapped. “And no one around here is trying to control your mind. So there’s no point in dwelling on this guy, and putting yourself in another coma. OK?”

      Kev shook his head. “There have to be other people who knew what he was doing. I’ll start with the other people in that photograph. Hand over the iTouch. I know you always have your toys on you.”

      “Yesterday, I dragged you in here, bleeding out your eyes,” Bruno hissed. “You think I’m up for a repeat performance? Fuck that!”

      Kev massaged the ropy scars on his head. They throbbed uncomfortably. “It won’t happen again,” he assured Bruno.

      “Oh, what a comfort! Guess what? I do not trust your judgment!”

      “No, really,” Kev wheedled. “I remember Osterman’s face. It blindsided me before, but it won’t take me by surprise again. I’m picturing that photo in my head right now, every last pixel, and my head is not exploding. I swear to you. It won’t get me again.”

      Bruno harrumped. “In any case, I’ve already done it.”

      “Done what?”

      “Researched the picture,” Bruno said, with a long-suffering air. “I identified everyone in it. Scraped together whatever I could find on the Internet about each one. If that’s what you meant to do, it’s done.”

      Kev realized his mouth was open. “Uh, wow. Thanks.”

      Bruno looked uncomfortable. “Shut up.” He dragged an accordion folder out of a duffel at his feet. “The guys with Osterman were Giles Laurent and Desmond Marr. Do those names burst any blood vessels?”

      The names fell like stones into the deep waters of his mind, encountering nothing. No reaction. He shook his head.

      Bruno opened the file. “Laurent you can cross off your list, because he’s dead.”

      “Why am I not surprised,” Tony muttered. “There’ll be lots of dead guys in this story by the time it’s told. Maybe one of ’em’ll be you.”

      “Maybe.” Kev was unperturbed. “Dead how?”

      “Suicide. Six years ago. Software designer. Went to Stanford after his stint at the Haven. Started a company, was doing real well. Shot himself in the head. Left a wife, two-year-old kid. Real tragic.”

      “And the other guy?”

      “Desmond Marr. Another high achiever,” Bruno said. “Harvard undergrad, Harvard business. Being groomed to take over his daddy’s pharmaceutical company, Helix. Medical technology, nanotechnology. Red-hot stock. They just moved down to the Silicon Forest in Hillboro a few years ago. This guy’s doing great. Hot shit on a silver platter.”

      “Let me see that picture.” Kev reached for it.

      Bruno snatched the folder back. “Fuck, no. I found another picture of Marr for you. One without Osterman in it.” He rummaged through his printouts, and pulled out a photocopy of an eight-by-ten.

      Kev took it. Blood drained from his face. His ears began to roar.

      There were four people in the photo, sitting at a table in front of a red drapery. A white haired man was beaming, holding up a plaque, but Kev’s eyes fastened on the other one; the long, distinguished face, the hawklike nose. He’d dreamed that face, thousands of times. The man was older, but it was the man from his dream. The one he’d run to, pleading for help.

      No. Not a dream. A memory. That man was real, and from Kev’s past. From before the wall in his mind. And Kev remembered him.

      Oh, fuck. Excitement began to build. His heart pounded heavily.

      Bruno leaned over his shoulder, pointing to a younger guy in the corner. “Here’s Desmond Marr, all grown up. This is from Helix’s corporate Web site. I picked it because it had the best close-up of Desmond that I could find, besides the portrait in his Web site bio. This is an awards ceremony from last year, where daddy Raymond received a lifetime achievement award from the American Medical Association for his contributions to…hey. Kev? What’s wrong?” He jerked Kev’s chin up, peered into his eyes. “Don’t start with that crazy shit!”

      “I won’t,” Kev said, jerking his chin away. “Relax.”

      “Hah,” Bruno muttered. “So you know Raymond Marr?”

      Kev shook his head, and pointed at the hawk-faced man. “No. This one.” His cold finger shook as it touched the paper.

      Bruno leaned over the photo. “Oh, him. Another big cheese. The CEO of Helix. Founded the company along with Desmond’s daddy. His name is…hold on…” He rifled through the printouts. “Charles Parrish.” Bruno waited expectantly, but Kev just shook his head.

      “No broken blood vessels? How undramatic,” Bruno muttered. “So, is this guy a white hat or a black hat? Is he your long lost dad?”

      “I went to him for help,” Kev said simply. “That’s all I remember.”

      Tony hawked, and spat into a tissue. “And did he give it to you?”

      Kev squeezed his eyes shut, and shook his head. “I don’t think he did. I remember pleading with him.” He struggled to pull the dreamlike memories into focus. “I think he threw me to the wolves. I scared the shit out of him. That was after the torture, so I was all fucked up. He called security. I threw one through a window. I remember that much.”

      Tony grunted sourly. “Of course you threw one through a window. That’s your specialty. Can’t just be a discreet knife through the eye, oh, no. It’s gotta be loud, it’s gotta draw attention, it’s gotta cost money.”

      Kev ignored him. “Tell me more about Parrish.”

      Bruno rifled through his printouts again, scowling, and pulled out a sheet of paper. “I don’t have a whole lot on him yet. According to his corporate bio, he worked for Flaxon for twelve years, based out of Seattle. Flaxon had warehouses not far from where Tony found you. He worked his way up the ranks, and twelve years ago, he left Flaxon and founded Helix, along with Marr. They made obscene amounts of money. Guy’s worth billions.” Bruno handed him another photo. “Here he is again. This is two years ago. Right after the move. They’d just inaugurated the building.”

      Kev held the picture closer to his face. This was a snapshot, taken at a table at some other banquet. Parrish raised his glass, mouth open. An elegant, bony woman with dark hair smiled for the camera. A young woman sat on his other side, shoulders hunched. Her face was veiled with long hair. Her shoulders were bare in a beaded sheath dress. Her spaghetti strap had fallen down. That, and the long, wavy mane made her look disheveled. Her arm clasped the shoulders of a little girl.

      Bruno pointed at the older woman. “Late wife. Died a year ago.” He pointed at the child. “Younger daughter, Veronica. Thirteen.” He touched the young woman. “Older daughter, Edith. Twenty-nine, lives here in Portland. Unmarried. She’s a Haven alum, too. Funny, huh?”