The Nowhere Man

46 All the Honey

Dead on his feet, Evan stumbled along the corridor a few paces ahead of Dex, a collared dog being taken for a walk. Instead of a leash, Dex had only to hold the transmitter up. A tap of his finger would send Evan to the floor.

They passed the library and then the sunroom. Every step heightened Evan’s curiosity. And his concern. What torture device had René built for him?

When they passed through the doorway into the ballroom, Evan was shocked into stillness. He gaped at the item that had been constructed in the dead center of the vast space.

A rectangular box the size of a cargo-shipping container, built of what seemed to be bullet-resistant glass, probably Lexan or another sturdy-as-hell thermoplastic polymer. A freestanding room, nearly seamless, save for a small vent in the back befitting a reptile terrarium.

A hatch resembling a bank vault’s door had been cut into one end of the rectangle, swung ajar on massive industrial hinges. The heavy door looked to be a solid foot thick, as were the walls. Embedded below the steel-bar handle was an inset screen and a sensor panel the size of a Frisbee.

René stood proudly in front of the Lexan vault, his surviving guards lined up behind him like White House staff awaiting a new president. René nodded at the open door, and Dex prodded Evan forward.

As Dex shoved Evan across the threshold, his shoulder skimmed the frame. The corner sliced right through the fabric of his shirt, as sharp as the lasered edge of a carbon-steel plate.

Evan stood inside, the air compressing around him as Dex pushed the door closed. It clanked sonorously, and everything grew suddenly quiet.

Dex pressed his left hand to the Frisbee-size panel. The inside of the door featured a matching panel and screen, both of which now lit up. The panel displayed the outline of Dex’s hand along with the network of veins running beneath the skin. A word glowed to life on the screen above: MATCH. Next, a series of commands populated the screen — LOCK, OPEN, DISABLE, RECODE. The LOCK button highlighted as Dex touched its counterpart outside, and lugs slotted into place, locking the door and sealing Evan inside.

No cords or wires were in evidence anywhere in the clear Lexan around the instrument panels; the system was run by an internal battery, a safeguard against the power’s being cut.

René observed Evan studying the controls. “The vein patterns beneath the surface of our skin are as unique as our fingerprints,” he said. “This system uses infrared sensors to identify those patterns. Something about hemoglobin absorbing the light — it’s all too clever for me to keep up with. What I do know is that you will never crack out of this box.”

“So this is where I live now?”

“No. I’m just testing it.”

“For what?”

René drew closer, facing Evan through the transparent door. “Remember when you said I would not be happy after you sent that wire?” A sly grin. “Well, I am happy.”

His voice, at a conversational pitch, came through clearly; the sensor panel also served the function of relaying their words through the foot-thick Lexan.

“You indicated that bad things would follow. You were right. Bad for you. Good for me.” René leaned in even more, his mouth close enough to the door that his breath clouded the Lexan. “I know who you are.”

A sudden cold seemed to fill the transparent box.

“Who am I?” Evan asked.

“Orphan X. The Nowhere Man.”

“You have me confused with someone else.”

“I was given all the buzzwords. A ‘richly funded covert-action program.’ ‘Neutralized tier-one targets.’ ‘CONUS and OCONUS operations.’” René’s forehead wrinkled or at least did its approximation of wrinkling. “The last two sound like sexual acts. They mean what, precisely?”

“Google ’em.”

René smiled. “I know we had a deal, but you’ve hardly shown consideration for our agreement. Killing my men, destroying my equipment. Why should I honor what you won’t? Given what you did to my lab, I need even more funds to rebuild, to acquire new medical machinery, buy another doctor. All this time I’ve been focused on what you have. Little did I realize that who you are is more valuable.”

Evan asked, “Who told you this about me?”

“I have my sources.”

“These sources,” Evan said. “They found you.”

René wet his lips. “I put out inquiries. Answers came back.”

“How did those answers come back?” Evan pressed.

“Through an e-mail associated with the bank account in which your money landed.”

“Your highly private account at the end of your highly encrypted trail of wire transfers?” Evan said. “Wonder how they got that information?”

“No,” René said. “I wonder how much they’ll be willing to spend for you. I’m guessing it’ll be a lot more than twenty-seven million.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Evan said. “Do you know who you’re dealing with?”

“Not the initial party. But some of the others.”

Evan felt another plunge in the temperature of the Lexan vault. “Others?”

“It seems you’re a wanted commodity in many quarters. Once I received word of your … secret identity, I explored the market. My subsequent correspondents were willing to communicate through more traditional untraditional means. I managed to scare up a few more bidders.” René lifted a finger and tapped the glass in front of Evan’s face. “We’re having an auction.”

“You might not want to stick your arm into that beehive.”

“But, Evan,” René said, already turning to leave, “that’s where all the honey is.”