Maybe

21

Donovan Creed.

I’M IN LOU’S office, viewing sensitive information he’s uncovered about Darwin’s activities. Every file and document in Lou’s office is classified, so I had to ask Miranda to wait in the lobby.

Here’s the thing about Lou’s information: it’s convincing.

Here’s the problem: it’s too convincing.

For twenty years none of us have been able to find a scrap of information about Darwin. Now, suddenly, Lou has uncovered reams of proof that my old friend, Doc Howard, was monitoring my flights, bugging my office, capturing keystrokes on my office computer, and tracking my movements through my cell phone.

You want to hear the most damning evidence? You’ll love this. Doc Howard had five tiny lights installed in every room on the main floor and basement of his house. Lou and I have had one phone number for Darwin all these years, but they were different numbers. When Lou calls, his name shows up on Doc Howard’s cell phone, and a blue light goes on in Doc Howard’s office and home. When I call, a red light flashes. Lou says if I’ll go with him to Doc Howard’s office and home, he can prove it to me.

I tell him I don’t need to see it.

“Why not?”

“Because I trust you, Lou.”

“Right.”

The real reason is I already knew about Doc Howard’s lights. I’ve been to his house several times. The first time I visited, he showed me how the lights blink when different people call. But they blinked when I called Doc’s number, not Darwin’s. If Doc’s lights are now blinking when I call Darwin, Lou or someone else has had them reprogrammed.

So I don’t buy it.

Doc was a crusty curmudgeon who complained about everything in his life. He ran the infirmary and surgical center at Sensory, and was involved in my facial reconstruction. “Under orders from Darwin,” as Doc put it, he implanted a chip in my brain while I was in a coma. But years later, Doc tipped me off about the chip and taught me how to disable it. For this information he charged me a hundred million dollars.

Lou doesn’t know it was Doc who told me about the chip. Nor is he aware of the financial arrangement I made last year with Darwin and Sal Bonadello, the two people most likely to kill me.

I secretly pay them for protection.

Every month my Swiss bank transfers a multi-million dollar payment to two numbered accounts. One is owned by Sal Bonadello, the other, Darwin. The amount is equal to the monthly interest on two five hundred million dollar certificates of deposit.

If I die, the payments stop.

If Sal dies his payment stops.

If Darwin dies, his payment stops.

So both men have a vested interest in keeping me alive.

I’ll know in a week if the payment to Darwin has been made. If it has, Darwin’s alive. Or at least his eyes are alive. You see, he has to log in with a retinal scan to accept the money.

I don’t believe Darwin would have told me about the chip for any amount of money, because that was his insurance against me. Darwin ordered the chip placed in my brain so he could press a button from anywhere in the world and kill me if I ever became a problem.

Thanks to Doc Howard’s information, I disabled the chip. So I’m having a hard time believing he was Darwin.

Which means Lou killed the wrong man.

“Callie thinks you’re Darwin,” I say.

Lou does a double take. “That’s crazy! Why would she think that?”

“You and Doc are the two people who claimed Darwin was trying to kill me. And you’re the one who uncovered the evidence against Doc. And you’re the one who killed him.”

“It’s logical I found the evidence,” Lou says. “It’s my research team. Plus, I worked right here in the same building with Doc Howard for more than ten years. If I’m wrong, why was Doc Howard tracking your movements and monitoring your flights? Why would a government surgeon do that?”

“The obvious answer is he wouldn’t. But Callie might remind me that you’re a computer genius. You gave us fake ID’s and wiped our paper trails clean. You’ve doctored our birth certificates and created diplomas and certifications that prove we’re lawyers, doctors, nuclear inspectors, and anything else we need to prove out in the field. For a guy like you, framing Doc Howard would be child’s play.”

“You know damn good and well I’m not Darwin!” he says.

“You’re right.”

Lou looks relieved. “You do know?”

“Yes.”

“For certain?”

“Of course.”

“Then please tell me why. I haven’t slept for days, worrying you might come after me.”

“Remember when we did the sting together and stole all that money from Sam Case’s clients?”

He nods.

“You tried to kill me.”

He hangs his head. Then looks up and says, “I don’t understand.”

“You tried to kill me by pumping the air out of the Lucite container.”

“So?”

“I didn’t know it at the time, but Darwin ordered a chip planted in my brain years earlier.”

“When you were in a coma,” Lou says.

“That’s right. If you were Darwin, you would’ve known about the chip. You could’ve killed me instantly by simply pressing a button.”

“Thank God I tried to kill you!” he says.

We look at each other and laugh.

He adds, “Well, you know what I mean!”

I do know. But while I know Lou isn’t Darwin, I also know he can’t be trusted. He may or may not believe Doc was Darwin. He may or may not be helping the real Darwin frame Doc.

Lou says, “You’re having a hard time accepting Doc Howard as Darwin.”

“I’m keeping an open mind.”

“Want to see his death?”

“You have photos?”

“Video.”

As he punches some numbers into his computer I ask, “What, no popcorn?”

“It’s a short clip.”

He’s right. The Doc Howard death video shows Lou killed Doc the old fashioned way. Grabbed him from behind, stuck a syringe in his neck, pushed the plunger.

“Doc and I were very close,” Lou says. “I made sure he didn’t suffer.”

“Why hasn’t his death been announced?”

“I’m rewriting his life.”

“Not just erasing it?”

“No. I want Doc to have the legacy he deserves. It’s easy for us to erase a person’s history. But it takes time to create the proper references, letters, public appearances, contributions, and accomplishments a distinguished man like Doc Howard would have made to the world.”

“Isn’t Ethel asking about her husband’s whereabouts?”

“No.”

“Because?”

“I’m afraid Ethel suffered an overdose.”

I frown. “You couldn’t find it in your heart to spare her?”

“Doc was a good husband. Almost never worked late. We’re still days away from fixing his background. She would’ve raised a stink.”

“What about Homeland?”

“I informed them of his heart attack this morning. They agree I should keep him on ice till we’ve cleaned his history.”

“Do they know about Ethel?”

“They think she’s here at Sensory, under a doctor’s care.”

“You’re holding both bodies?”

“I am.”

“Show me.”

Lou takes me to the cooler and shows me the bodies. I don’t know Ethel well enough to positively identify her, but this other one is definitely Doc Howard. We use a lot of body doubles in our business, but this is my old friend. I’d stake my life on it.

The question remains. Was he Darwin?

“Someone at Homeland knows Darwin’s identity,” I say.

“You’d think so.”

“If they think Doc was Darwin, they’ll want to replace him.”

“That’s my hope.”

It dawns on me Lou wants the job. If he’s framing Doc Howard, here’s another motive.

Lou says, “Don’t look so surprised. Stranger things have happened.”

“You’re a computer expert and researcher.”

“So?”

“I doubt they’ll offer you the job.”

“Maybe they’ll offer it to you,” he says.

I think about that as I head to the lobby to fetch Miranda.