The Utopia Experiment

43

The eight-by-ten photograph was centered on the desk when Fred Klein walked into his office. He didn’t bother to sit, instead examining the digitally aged face looking up at him. The scar on his neck pegged him as the man who had threatened Smith, but there was something else. Something in the eyes, the severe turn of the mouth. He was certain he’d seen the face before.

Klein flipped the picture but there was no further information on the back. Only a note from Star scrawled in the corner: “Found him!!!!!!!” followed by a number of smiley faces and a few hearts shaded with a red Magic Marker.

He grimaced and took a sip from the steaming cup in his hand. For a long time he’d thought she did these things just to irritate him but now he knew it wasn’t true. And even if it was, it wouldn’t have mattered. When you managed to find someone with her level of talent, you learned that the tattoos, the bizarre piercings, and even the glittery hearts punctuating her reports were things you just had to let go.

“Star!” he shouted, knowing his voice would carry the short distance to her office. When she didn’t come running, he leaned his head around the door. Before he could call her again, though, Maggie tapped one of her many computer screens. “Quit yelling, Fred. She’s dialing out to Jon.”

Klein let out a long breath but didn’t immediately move. Finally, he slipped out of his office and began the reluctant but all-too-familiar trudge down the hall.

By careful design, his visits to her office were infrequent. He hated everything about it: The grinding music played at elevator volume. The plastic dolls, old records, and commemorative plates that covered nearly every surface. And then there were the framed pictures of her with men — all very famous, she assured him — who looked like they had just been released from prison.

Star held up a finger when he appeared in her doorway but she seemed to be looking right through him. It was an increasingly common phenomenon known as the Dresner Stare. Cell phones had been annoying enough, but at least you knew when people were using them. Now there was no way to tell what someone was seeing when they looked at you.

“Damn,” she muttered and then pushed the intercom button on the phone at the edge of her desk. “Maggie? I had a perfect connection with Jon and it just went dead. Now I’m rolling to his voicemail. Do you think you can get him?”

“He’s with Randi,” Maggie responded over the speaker. “Hold on. Let me give her a try.”

Finally, Star’s eyes seemed to focus and she smiled pleasantly. “What can I do for you, Mr. Klein?”

He held up the photo he’d found on his desk. “Who is this?”

“Pretty impressive, huh? All I had was a vague description and it’s only been…”

“Too much information.”

“Sorry. He’s former military intelligence guy. Name’s Whitfield.”

Klein felt a dull rush of adrenaline in the pit of his stomach. “Major James Whitfield?”

“Yeah. Do you know him?”

He didn’t answer, instead dropping the photo and rushing back to Maggie Templeton’s desk. “Have you been able to get Jon yet?”

She shook her head. “He’s still rolling over. And I can’t get Randi’s cell either.”

“What about a landline?”

“There is one at the cabin but it seems to be out of service.” She tapped a few commands into her keyboard. “I’m not sure what the problem is. The cell tower servicing the area seems to be online and they normally get good signal…”

“Shit!”

Maggie looked up at him with alarm as he ran to the safe and began digging through it. Klein rarely swore. And he never ran.

“Get a team to where Randi’s staying,” he said. “Now!”

“A team?” Maggie responded. “What do you mean? What kind of team?”

“Anyone and everyone we can get with whatever weapons they can put their hands on.”

“But we don’t have any people available, Fred. Kate’s on the East Coast, but she’s in Philadelphia right now. And you just sent Darren to Kazakhstan.”

“Then we’ll pull from our security detail. Tell Jason to bring the helicopter.”

“Here? You want him to bring it here?”

“Just do it!”

She dialed and then held her hand over the phone’s mouthpiece. “Fred!” she said, starting to sound a little panicked. “What in God’s name are you looking for?”

“My gun.”

“Gun? What are you going to do with a gun?”

He found it at the back under some files and checked the clip while rushing back down the hallway. “Just bring in the helicopter! And get Jon on the damn phone!”

“What do you want me to tell him if I do?” she shouted after him.

“Tell him to try to hold out. Help is on the way.”