Spyware

“I’m sorry, but I’m really under pressure now,” he told her. “If Justin is out there somewhere, trapped somewhere, then he might not make it much longer,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “Of course, they might of… might of…” he swallowed. “They might have killed him already. I know that, but I have to work on the assumption that he is still out there and he needs my help.”

“Ray,” said Brenda, sitting beside him. “I know this is a very hard time for you. But I think you need to let the professionals work on this one.”

He finally looked at her and heard her words. His brow furrowed. “Look, they have twice as much manpower out to get me, the supposed virus-writer, as they do to find my son. I’m not letting anyone do this for me. If they can do it, fine, but if they can’t then I’ll have killed myself trying to do it where they failed. I’m not giving myself up until Justin is found.”

“But I can’t help but thinking that you’re digging a grave for yourself, Ray,” she told him. “If you’re innocent, that will come out in the investigation. You’re just making it all look worse by running.”

“If?” he asked. “Brenda, I am innocent.”

“Of course you are,” she quickly amended, not looking at him.

He turned back to the screen and started another search. “You know, it’s funny. Whenever someone is accused of something, people right away assume that there must be a grain of truth to it.”

“It’s not like that, Ray,” she said.

“The hell it’s not,” he said, turning back to her after he had clicked in another search. “Look, Brenda, are you my friend?Are you in this with me or not?”

Brenda was silent for a moment. She looked at him, then back toward the lab doors. “I suppose I’m with you, Ray,” she said quietly.

“It’s just that the virus is so advanced, and it came from here, and you really know about viruses, Ray,” she said to her hands.

“Yeah, I know it looks bad.”

“They say you’re on record for having released a virus before, Ray.”

“It was a stupid prank.”

“They found files at your house, Ray,” she told him.

He glanced at her, opened his mouth, then shut it again. He nodded to himself. “That’s it,” he said. “That must be why they took him. Justin must have seen them planting that stuff.”

“Ray?”

“What?”

“They say other things, too. Terrible things, Ray. About what you might have done with Justin. About why you are running and searching for him so frantically.”

Ray looked at her. She looked small and scared and it all made him feel sick. He didn’t say anything because he couldn’t.

Brenda stood up. “You won’t give yourself up, will you?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“I’ve got to go to the restroom again, Ray,” she said.

Four thousand search results. Still way too many. Ray nodded his head to her and started another search. While the search engine was working on it, he quickly dialed Mrs. Trumble’s number. He glanced back at the lab doors, but Brenda was still gone. When a sleepy Mrs. Trumble answered, he told her to write down Santa, Snowflake and the word ‘handles’ on a note for his wife. She began to tell him about her day, but he quickly begged off. When he hung up on her, she was still talking about something. He felt a bit bad about it, but he couldn’t chance anymore time on the line. After he hung up, he dialed 4 – 1 – 1 and immediately hung up again. That way, if someone tried the redial later, they would get nothing useful. He knew he was being paranoid, but figured that it couldn’t hurt.

Sometime later the lab doors opened again. Ray heard a different set of footsteps approaching. His stomach dropped away into a vast void that had opened up at his feet. Brenda had betrayed him. He should have expected it, but he hadn’t, not from her. He turned, fully expecting to see Agents Vasquez and Johansen, guns drawn.

Instead, he saw Dr. Ingles. He had his cigarette in his left hand and his right was stuck in the pocket of his jacket, where doubtlessly it tightly clutched his lighter.

“Ingles?”

“Hello, Ray,” said the other. He approached and seemed completely at ease in the presence of a federal fugitive.

“What do you want?”

“Ray, I’m here to help Brenda talk you into giving yourself up,” said Ingles. He fondled his cigarette thoughtfully, and for once Brenda didn’t seem to care. Her eyes were careworn and they were focused solely on him.

Ray cocked his head and sat back from the terminal suddenly. Ingles jumped, just a bit. Seeing that there was no threat in the move, he covered by putting his elbow on the high counter at the lab aide’s station.

“Did you call my colleague for help, Brenda?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “He was here tonight. Before you even came. He seemed to know you were coming here tonight.”

Ray nodded. “You make a habit of knowing my habits, Ingles.”

“It’s part of my personal philosophy to try and predict the behavior of others, Ray. Of course, I’m wrong as often as right, but it always seems to be the cases when I guess correctly that people recall most vividly.”