The Love You Crave

10.

“I’m aware the conditions aren’t ideal in here,” I say, “but believe me, I’ve seen worse.”

I call Joe Penny to fix the phone. While he does that, I coerce William into calling the attorneys. As he fires them, we learn they’ve already blown through half the contingency fee.

“You’ve wasted over a hundred grand,” I say. “Now stop this nonsense, and I’ll tell you why it wouldn’t have worked in the first place. Your medical director, Dr. Phyllis Willis, was murdered in this very building two weeks ago, along with several members of her staff. What you may not know is why. Shall I tell you?”

No one speaks, so I continue.

“Dr. Willis helped supervise the implanting of a chip into the brain of a government assassin named Connor Payne. The chip can be activated by remote control. When a four-digit code is entered, the chip heats up and Mr. Payne’s brains will liquefy. How many of you knew that, raise your hands.”

No one does.

“George?” I say.

George reluctantly raises his hand. The others appear shocked.

“Your company, Ropic Industries, manufactured the chip.”

“That’s ridiculous!” William Wadsworth says.

“Tell them, George.”

“You know it’s true, William,” George says. “You signed off on it.”

Mary’s jaw drops. She looks at William like he’s a child molester.

“There’s more. Phyllis was having an affair with Gwen’s husband. When she performed Gwen’s breast augmentation…” I pause so they can all take a moment to check out Gwen’s boobs. They do, and continue staring at them until she finally crosses her arms over her chest. Then I say, “Phyllis placed a small ceramic device behind one of Gwen’s implants. This device can kill Connor Payne, and he knows it. Which puts Gwen’s life in danger, which means if she files a lawsuit, you’re out of business.”

I press a button on my cell phone. When Jeff answers, I ask, “How’s the patient?”

“Sleeping.”

“Tie him down and bring me Gwen’s body scan.”

Moments later I hold up the body scan we took of Gwen when she entered the security cubicle. Sure enough, behind her right boob, the device is visible.

“Hey!” Gwen says. “That was a dirty trick, telling me I was going through security.”

I shrug. “It gets worse. This morning a bomb went off on Trace Street.”

“That’s common knowledge,” George says.

“It’s all you see on the news,” William adds. “Apparently a suicide bomber was heading toward the convention center when her vest exploded.”

“ Her vest?” I say. “I don’t recall the police releasing that information.”

William looks down. Mary walks over to him and stands there until he looks up. When he does, she slaps his face.

“We’re through!” she says, and makes a move for the door. I wonder if anyone knew before today that William and Mary were having an affair.

I put my arm out to stop her, and say, “Stay put, Mary. We’re all family here. This room may not be soundproof…”

I wink at Gwen.

She gives me the finger.

“…But it’s safe for conversations.”

Mary reclaims her seat.

“You folks have been breaking the law,” I say. “You’re dealing with terrorists.”

“That’s ridiculous,” William says.

“You’re selling chips that can be detonated by remote control. The woman on Trace Street walked into a lamp post, fell on her ass, and her head blew up. Tell me that’s not an explosive chip manufactured by your company that was placed in her brain.”

I give George a hard look and start moving toward him.

He says, “The chip was sewn into her mouth.”

Everyone turns to look at George. He says, “These chips are like blasting caps. We manufactured hundreds of them for the government, but they canceled the contract. I sold them to an arms dealer for two million dollars.”

“What was the government planning to use them for?”

“I have no idea.”

“How do you know the device was in her mouth?”

“The arms dealer called me to complain about the size of the explosion.”

“What do you mean?”

“I may have given them the impression the chips could take down a building.”

“They would have demanded a test.”

“We blew up a car.”

“How’s that possible?”

“The test was rigged.”

“You’re joking.”

“I tossed a chip into a car and detonated it. But the seats were filled with plastic explosives.”

“You’re dumb enough to cheat an arms dealer?”

“We were desperate. Our company was about to go broke. We needed the cash infusion.”

“Why was the woman’s chest wired with explosives?”

“They were testing the chip, but wanted a backup to destroy the evidence in case it didn’t work. They picked an illegal alien, threatened to kill her children, sewed the chip in her mouth, and sent her for a walk. When she got to Trace Street, she was crying so hard she walked into a post and fell down. She refused to get up, so they detonated the chip, surveyed the damage, and blew up the evidence. If this information goes public, we’ll all wind up in prison.”

William says, “We didn’t intend the chips to be used by terrorists. But it happened, and now you know. So what is it you want?”

“I want Gwen on the board and her shares reinstated.”

“That’s preposterous!” William says, “It’s common knowledge Mrs. Peters is a former stripper. The stockholders would never approve such a move.”

“You think they’d rather be represented by terrorist sympathizers?”

He sighs. “What else do you want?”

I look at Gwen. “If you could run any kind of business in the world, what would it be?”

She thinks a moment. Then says, “I’d like to design and sell t-shirts.”

“There you have it,” I say. “Gwen’s going to introduce a line of t-shirts.”

“You’re insane!” William says.

“You think she could possibly piss away more money with a t-shirt venture than you’ve lost with your business plan?”

“That’s not the point. We’re not in clothing. We’re an electronics company.”

“How about electronic t-shirts?” Gwen says.

“How about that!” I say, beaming at her. “She’s already created a tie-in!”

Gwen beams back.

“I want something too,” I say.

“Of course you do,” William says. “What?”

“An introduction to your arms dealer.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to eliminate this terror cell.”

“I want something else,” Gwen says. “An assistant. And maybe a private secretary!”

“Then you shall have one,” I say. “Right, Mr. Wadsworth?”

“The inmates are running the asylum,” he says.