He laughed. Then again as he clicked the red button on his phone, placing it lightly on the desk.
The recipient on the other end of his communication must have believed him insane or joking. Either way, whatever the idiot thought, the purpose of his call was masked to cover the truth. His truth. After all, his way, his mantra, was the only one that held any significance.
The laughter had been genuine. But then again, over the last few years, had there been anything regarding his resurrection from the choking confines of societal expectations that was feigned? He could think of nothing that hadn’t been of the sincerest motivation for him since his initial encounter with his true mentor.
What an encounter it had been. He recalled the chains falling away. At first, it was difficult to comprehend the way his mind had been utterly transformed and freed. He knew from hundreds of sessions what people really considered, what fantasies they so desperately desired to convert to reality, yet were unable to pull the proverbial trigger releasing that pure, unadulterated enlightenment.
“What a waste,” he said softly.
The cell phone rested in his large hand. He could squeeze and feel it crack; he could squeeze harder and watch the phone virtually disintegrate as minuscule shards of black plastic and translucent glass slipped through his powerful fingers.
The phone, however, was needed as a lynchpin in the grand scheme of things to come. He’d laid the groundwork, for the most part, of what was to come next and, after all, that was important. Yet the unspoken, the perplexing, was far more defining.
Getting up from the desk located in the spacious backroom of the warehouse, he moved to the computer station and hit enter. The program that had been written especially for this project was vacillating on the screen as the power grid gave response to the rise and fall of the power surges running from one cell phone tower to another. The GPS for the phone he’d put on the desk had been fooled into believing it was coming from another area of Nevada and was being directed by remotely accessing phone sources in and around the U.S. Its function allowed the program to hijack a new location every fifteen seconds and mask the true origin of the signal.
He’d also had his programmer create a global connection that could hack into networks all over the world, disguising the source of his Internet connection, making it virtually impossible to trace his email and video-streaming communications. That would be important, beginning in less than two days, if his calculations were correct. And they always were.
Fortunately, he’d been able to test the project and found it completely serviceable for his complex needs—and all before the programmer had met with an unfortunate demise. He suspected that the programmer had no idea his life would end as it had, but then again, did anyone really suspect such a thing?
He wondered if anyone, other than the creatures of the desert, would ever stumble upon the programmer’s body. He supposed some misguided camper or hiker may do just that, but it would be far too late to have any effect on his destiny.
Leaving a corpse to rot in an unmarked grave was not exactly his style but proved necessary to minimize the likelihood of detection until he was ready.
Two days.
That’s all that was required. He’d waited long enough. Hidden in the sanctuary that was his own anticipation, he’d relented to a self-control that, at times, was difficult to succumb, but had done it anyway. The timing for this final play had never seemed quite right, but that had changed with the onset of one new development.
“Children will change your life, agents,” he whispered.
*****
Staring at the phone, Gavin put it to his ear. “Who is this?”
No response.
Gavin licked his lips and then glanced at Chloe.
“Listen, asshole, this phone belongs to a law enforcement official, and I’ll have your balls behind bars in a few hours if you don’t identify yourself now.”
More silence.
Waiting ten more agonizing seconds, Gavin spoke again. “Last chance, shithead.”
“Soon, Commissioner, soon.”
He barely heard the laugh as the phone went dead. The tone was unmistakable, the articulation one of a kind. He recognized the voice, yet . . . it was impossible.
The caller had been dead over a year.
“Are you all right, Gavin? You look like you saw, or heard, a ghost,” Chloe moved toward him.
Regaining his composure, Gavin waved his hand toward Chloe, hoping to hide what he thought he’d heard.
“Yeah. Just some punk trying to get under my skin. Now. Let me get to the office, and I’ll see about getting the ball rolling with your new job. I’ll be back to talk to you and Manny.”
“That works for me,” said Chloe, watching him intently. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. See you when you can get that workaholic husband to come home.”
Gavin slid into the front seat of his black sedan, his pulse still racing.
He glanced at the phone’s screen and saw that, somehow, the number had changed. The area code was now a Detroit area number. Impossible. He knew what he had seen.
Pulling out of the driveway, he raced toward downtown Lansing.
Okay, maybe I’m seeing things, but I know what I heard. How could I ever forget?
Doctor Fredrick Argyle’s voice was still ringing in his ears.