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What the hell is Matthew thinking? Dr. Taylor was not pleased to see Matthew at his doorstep. An FDA member visiting his house would raise suspicions. Was he sent by the panel? Maybe he carried a recording instrument on him? He patted Matthew down when he got him in his office, then, he pulled off his shirt, examined his torso, and went through his pants and jacket pockets.
“What are you doing?”
“Where is the recording device?” He was rightfully paranoid after losing six patients.
“I don’t have a recording device. I’m here to tell you that the FBI knows I was bribed, or they will find out soon. I’m sure you’re going to receive a visit from them. I’m running as fast as I can, and without my testimony you may be able to bluff them. I’ll disappear, I promise you that. Right now, I need your help. I need money. All my money was transferred offshore. This was unexpected; I wasn’t prepared.” He appeared honest, almost apologetic, and the doctor believed him.
Dr. Taylor had to conceal the thoughts that paraded through his mind as he attempted to design another damage control operation. He didn’t give a flying fuck. Of course, he would give him money to have him vanish rather than jeopardize his twenty long years of research. He searched Matthew’s face. There was something odd about it, and that scared him more than anything. The vacant eyes were indicative of a lifeless existence, as if his device was not working any longer. He had to figure out this new longing and funnel Matthew’s energy.
“I’ll give you the money. I’m not risking the project. We must figure out how to funnel the energy that will be built up in your brain. Perhaps wirelessly. Come. Sit down. I have a feeling you are battling a desire that is fighting to come out. It’s a pulling so great that your chest will split open.” Dr. Taylor understood more than any other doctor.
“I used all the techniques you taught me to funnel the faulty ideas. I tried hard, but this desire is impossible to direct. It feels like a command I have to obey, though I know it’s wrong.”
That was the clarifying moment for Dr. Taylor, who instantly identified the wrongdoer, the one who was behind the attacks. He knew the bastard only too well.
“You can’t go until I correct the device. You are in greater danger than you could possibly imagine.”
“No, Doctor, I’m not staying. Give me the money and I’ll disappear.”
He couldn’t deal with the desire, the longing, and the command on his own. His logic wouldn’t work; the command overwrote everything in its path. Dr. Taylor sat on his desk. What a dilemma ... let Matthew go or restrain him before he made good on the command? He considered all the angles and decided keeping him restrained was not a scenario he could easily implement. He pushed the code on his safe, which was concealed in the second drawer of his desk and retrieved four stacks of money.
“You have to keep in touch to receive the discharge, otherwise the device will be useless, and your disorder will return at an even greater pace.”
“I’ll call you when I land.” He stacked the money in an envelope he had grabbed from Dr. Taylor’s desk. “Consider me invisible.”
Dr. Taylor didn’t attempt to get up and guide him to the exit. His mind was running over these new developments, and he realized he had to do something before his patients were exposed to danger. He was sure that some type of command had been used, and only one person could undo it—Peter, his ex-partner. The traitor. The charlatan. The bastard. He denied his success all over again. He was the only conspirator who could engage in his system, but it required inside assistance, someone who had access to the central terminal, and that could be twenty or thirty scientists. But that wasn’t important now. He had to force him to change the command, or he would be forced to give him up to the authorities. It was a threat, nothing else. Dr. Taylor wouldn’t reveal Peter’s devious action to the authorities or anyone else because he and the shortcomings of his device would also be exposed. He had promised the FDA panel that the possibility of an intrusion to his patients’ minds was minimal or non-existent. The bastard. The traitor. Peter was the one who declared the device was unfit for human minds, yet he had intruded into the patients’ minds to annihilate him completely. Why? He had to go and see Peter personally. He would appeal to his love of science before he threatened him.
He left his office in a hurry. The house was strangely quiet, although both of his kids were there. He searched for them in the kitchen first, then he entered the entertainment room where he found them involved in some type of gaming. His wife was out shopping, and the nanny was probably in her room. He passed in front of the TV to purposely divert their attention, and they both erupted in complaints. If it had been another time, he would have smiled at them.
“Pause your game and listen to Daddy for a second. I need to go out. Mommy should be home in a while, and Samantha is here. If you need anything, knock at her door before you enter.” He kissed them both, realizing family was what was important in life. The device and his work were essential, but family should always come first. He informed Samantha of his departure, making sure his family was safe.
The traffic quieted down, and he took the highway rather than the local streets. His ex-partner’s house was eight exits away from his location, on the Long Island Expressway. The darkness began to take over, eating away the daylight and making the trees, houses, and road appear as though in a malevolent state. The imminence of an evil force was approaching, or was it the wintery night and the darkness that made him feel that way? Was it in fact caused by his disappointment with his fellow scientist, who had falsely professed his noble beliefs as an excuse to leave the program, or was it something far more ominous and disturbing?
When he pulled into Peter’s driveway, the irony hit him hard, and his device became secondary. Now, he understood why his ex-partner had done it!