Simple Genius (8 page)

FIVE MINUTES LATER ALICIA LED SEAN up the stone steps of a large green clapboard house with a cedar
shake
roof and broad front porch. He followed her inside into a comfortable study lined with books. A desk stood in the middle of the room with a large flat screen computer monitor on it. She motioned with a finger toward a worn leather chair while she plopped down in the swivel chair behind the desk.

He watched with interest as she put her right leg up on her desk and pulled on the lower section of her pants. The Velcro strip came free about mid-thigh and that part of the pants leg came away in her hand. It was then that Sean could see the highly polished metal and straps underneath. She undid the leg straps, unloosened a few levers, and set the prosthetic with the black loafer still on it down on her desk. Then Alicia rubbed at the spot where her flesh had met aluminum.

She glanced up at him. “I’m sure Emily Post and her progeny would condemn a person showing off her artificial leg to a complete stranger but I don’t really care. Ms. Post, I assume, never had to walk around in one of these all day. And even with all the technological advances they still can hurt like hell.”

“How did it happen?” Sean asked as she popped three Advil with the aid of a glass of water poured from a carafe on her desk. “I’m sorry. You may not want to talk about it,” he added quickly.

“I don’t like to waste time and I can be blunt. I’m a mathematician by training, but a linguist by passion. My father was in the Foreign Service and we traveled extensively in the Middle East when I was young. Consequently, I can speak Arabic and Farsi and several other dialects the U.S. government has deemed valuable. Four years ago, I volunteered as an interpreter in Iraq for the State Department. For two years things were going all right until I was riding in a Humvee near Mosul when it rolled over an IED. I regained consciousness in Germany a week later to find that not only had I lost seven days of my life, but most of my right leg as well. I was lucky though. Only two people survived the explosion,
myself
and another man, who pulled me to safety. They told me the only thing left of the driver sitting next to me was his torso. Shrapnel trajectory in enclosed spaces is hardly an exact science. However, my country completely rehabbed me and gave me this wonderful accoutrement.” She patted the artificial leg.

“I’m sorry,” Sean said. He inwardly marveled at her ability to talk so dispassionately about what must have been a horrific event.

Alicia settled back in her chair and studied him closely. “I still have no idea why they brought you down here.”

“There’s been a mysterious death and I’m a detective.”

“That part I can follow. They’ve had enough policemen down here to have Jack the Ripper himself shaking in his blood-soaked boots. But they’re all government people, you’re private.”

“Meaning what exactly?”

“Meaning they can’t really control you, can they?”

“I don’t know, can they?” She didn’t answer him so he said, “You mentioned you had some things to tell me?”

“That was one of them.”

“Okay,
who’s
they,
as in the owners of Babbage Town? No one down here seems anxious to tell me or they don’t know. Both of which I find remarkable.”

“Afraid I can’t help you there.”

“Have the FBI talked to you?”

She said, “Yes. A man named Michael Ventris.
Humorless and efficient.”

“Good to know. What’s your take on Champ Pollion? Let me guess, he was first in his class at MIT.”

“No, he actually was second in his class at the Indian Institute of Technology, a school many in the field consider even more prestigious.”

“He also seems very nervous about what happened to Monk.”

“He’s a scientist. What does he know about violent death and murder investigations? I saw enough blood in Iraq to last a thousand years, but even I’ve been unsettled by what happened to Monk. At least in Iraq you knew who was trying to kill you. Here you don’t.”

“So you think Monk was murdered?”

“I don’t know. That’s what’s so unsettling.”

“He was found at the CIA?”

“Right.
But if the CIA had anything to do with his death do you think they would have conveniently left his body there? I mean they could’ve just dumped him in the York River.”

“So what’s your role in Babbage Town? I can tell you’re not simply one of the rank and
file
.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Your house is bigger than the other bungalows.”

“I run a department here. Champ lives on the opposite side of the mansion, near Hut Number One.”

“And what do they do in Hut Number One?”

“That’s actually my department. Champ runs Hut Number Two.
The one with the water silo.”

“And you won’t tell me what you do?”

Alicia said, “It’s nothing terribly exciting. We factor numbers. Very large numbers or at least we try to. It’s quite a difficult proposition. We’re hunting for something that many people in the field are convinced doesn’t exist.
A mathematical shortcut.”

Sean looked skeptical.
“A mathematical shortcut?
That justifies armed guards and expensive digs?”

“It does if accomplishing it can stop the world dead in its tracks. And we’re not alone. IBM, Microsoft, NSA, Stanford University, Oxford and countries like France, Japan, China, India, Russia, they’re all engaged in similar activities.
Maybe even some criminal organizations.
They’d definitely have incentive to do it.”

“I’m not sure I’d want to be in a competition with NSA.”

“Maybe that’s the real reason we need armed guards.
To protect us from
them.
”

“So all of Babbage Town is devoted to this factoring stuff?”

“Oh, no, that’s just me and my little operation in Hut Number One. And to tell the truth, I feel a bit like the unfortunate stepsister. Clearly my work is only seen as a backup in case Champ’s research doesn’t pan out. But the payoff could be enormous.”

“For stopping the world dead in its tracks?”
Sean said, repeating her words. “How does that make sense?”

“Some inventions, like the light bulb or antibiotics, help mankind. Others inventions, like nuclear weapons, have the potential to end the human race. But people still come up with them. And other people still buy them.”

“Why do I feel like Alice toppling through the looking glass?”

“You don’t have to understand our world, Mr. King. You just have to find out what happened to Monk Turing.”

“Make it Sean. Was Monk in your department?”

“No, Champ’s. Monk was a physicist not a mathematician. But I knew him.”

“And?”

“And I spent time with him and Viggie but I can’t say I knew him all that well. He was quiet, methodical and kept to himself.
Never said much about his personal life.
Now go ahead and ask me the obvious questions. Did Monk have any enemies? Was he into anything that could have led to his death, that sort of thing?”

Sean smiled. “Well, since you already asked them, I’ll just wait for your answers.”

“I don’t have any. If he was into drugs or stealing or had a deviant sexual side that led him to being murdered, he hid it well.”

“Did you know he was killed with his own gun and his were the only prints on it?”

“So it was suicide then?”

“We don’t know all the facts yet. You said you didn’t know him that well, but did he ever appear depressed, suicidal?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Was he a good father to Viggie?”

Alicia’s expression softened.
“A very good father.
They’d play ball in the front yard for hours. He even learned to play the guitar so he could accompany her on the piano.”

“So you spent a lot of time with them?”

“Not with Monk, but I did with Viggie. Sort of the daughter I never had.”

“And Monk was okay with that?”

“He worked long hours, not that I don’t. But our schedules were different, so it worked out that I could be with her sometimes when he couldn’t.”

“I see.
And the mom?”

Alicia shook her head. “No idea. Never knew her.”

Sean suddenly thought of a question that he probably should have asked Rivest. “Did Monk take any trips recently?”

“No, not recently.
You don’t get a lot of vacation time down here.” She paused. “He did go out of the country about eight or nine months ago, I think.”

Sean perked up. “Do you know where?”

She shook her head. “He never told me.”

“How do you know it was out of the country then?”

“I remember him mentioning that he had to get his passport renewed. I guess that would tell you where he went.
His passport.”

Which is in the hands of the FBI.
“How long was he gone?”

“About two weeks.”

“Who watched Viggie?”

“I helped. And Babbage Town hired some people to look after her.”

“And Viggie was okay with a bunch of strangers around her?”

“I guess Monk had talked to her. If he told her it was okay, she’d believe it. They had that kind of relationship.”

“Can
you
get through to Viggie at all?”

“Sometimes.
Why?”

“Because I might need your help when I talk to her.”

“What could Viggie know that would help you in your investigation?”

“She may know something about her dad that might explain what happened.”

“If she does talk to you, it might not be a language you understand very well.”

Sean smiled. “Good thing I’ll have a world-class linguist assisting me.”

She said in a condescending manner, “You could care less whether Monk Turing committed suicide or was murdered, do you? You’ll get paid regardless.”

“You’re wrong. I
do
care whether the killer is caught.”

“Why?”

“Technically, I’m a P.I. But I’m really a cop and cops just think that way. That’s why we do a job most people can’t. You said there were some
things
you wanted to tell me? I’ve only heard one.”

She stared at him curiously. “I’m really tired so I’m going to bed. I’m sure you can see yourself out.” She reattached her prosthetic and slowly moved up the stairs.

Sean locked the door on his way out. If there
was
a murderer on the loose, you could never be too careful.

As he walked back to his room at the mansion, Sean only had one thought marching through his head:
What the hell have I gotten into?

AFTER WALKING OUT ON HORATIO, Michelle skipped lunch. Instead she did such an intense workout in the gym that there wasn’t a dry thread on her. She was feeling better, she told herself. The endorphins were obviously doing what Horatio Barnes couldn’t. She was slowly convincing herself that what had happened in that bar was one moment of bad judgment probably triggered by too much booze. Soon she would be out of here, back with Sean solving other people’s problems. Horatio could go leech on someone else’s misery.

She returned to her room to shower. After combing out her wet hair she wrapped a towel around her and stepped out of the bathroom. She sat on her bed, and started moistening her legs with lotion. Then she whirled around so fast her towel fell to the floor.

Barry had been standing behind a bureau in one corner of the room.

He had stepped out so she could see him, a broad smile on his face.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she cried out.

“Cheryl didn’t show up for her session. They sent me to get her,” Barry said quickly, his gaze squarely on Michelle’s naked body. She snatched a sheet off the bed, wrapped it around her and stood.

“She’s not here, so get the hell out!”

“Sorry to have disturbed you,” Barry said, the smile still playing across his lips.

“I’m going to report you for this, you son of a bitch,” she said furiously. “I know exactly what you’re up to.”

“I was told to come here to see about a patient. It’s not my fault you were walking around naked. Didn’t you read the section of the facility’s information packet that said during the day patient rooms are treated as public spaces and staff may come and go at all times? It also goes on to say that all patients should therefore dress in the bathroom if they desire privacy.”

“You seem to have focused on that particular section. Let me guess why, Mr. Pervert.”

He backed toward the door, his gaze on her long, bare legs. “And if you file a report against me I’ll have to defend myself.”

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” Michelle said furiously.

“It means that other female patients have stooped to seducing male staff in order to get preferential treatment, small favors, drugs, smokes, candy, even vibrators. I mean the way I look at it I was standing right here and you started showing off your body to me. Do you want a vibrator, sweetie? But being the good staff member that I am, I can’t treat you any differently. Sorry.”

Michelle’s fists were clenched she was so angry. “I didn’t see you, you bastard! You were hiding over in that corner.”

“You said I was hiding, I say I wasn’t. Have a nice day.” He gave her one last, penetrating stare and then turned and left.

Michelle was so upset she was trembling. She took several calming breaths, grabbed her clothes and finished dressing in the bathroom. The door didn’t have a lock for obvious reasons, so she stood with her back pressed against it in case the man came back for something more than a peek at her ass and boobs. She felt violated beyond belief. She was deciding whether to report Barry when another staff member walked in after Michelle had finishing dressing.

“I’m here to take you to the session,” the woman said.

“What session?” Michelle asked.

“Horatio Barnes has scheduled you for a group session this afternoon.”

“He didn’t tell me that.”

“Well, it’s on your chart. I’m just here to make sure you go.”

Michelle hesitated.
Damn him.
“How many people in the group?”

“Ten. I’m sure you’ll get a lot out of it. And it’s only thirty minutes long.”

“Fine, let’s just get it over with,” Michelle said sharply.

“That’s not the proper attitude to have,” the woman said in a scolding tone.

“Lady, right now it’s the only attitude I’ve got.”

A male doctor Michelle had never seen before was leading the session. The only saving grace for Michelle was that Sandy was there. She made a beeline for the woman and sat next to her. As soon as Michelle did so the door opened and Barry came in. He stood in the back against the wall.

Every time Michelle felt his gaze on her, her skin prickled. That jerk had seen her
naked.
It was killing her. Even Sean had never seen that much of her.

While the doctor was handing out some materials, Sandy looked over at Michelle and saw her expression of misery. “You okay?”

“No, but I’ll tell you about it later. How does this session work?” she whispered.

“Just follow my lead. It’ll be okay. This shrink isn’t bad. He means well, but he’s totally clueless to what goes on in the real world.”

“That’s inspiring,” Michelle said.

After the session was over, Michelle pushed Sandy’s wheelchair past Barry.

“You ladies have a nice day,” Barry said, holding the door for them and smiling broadly.

“Go fuck yourself!” Michelle said loud enough for him and everyone else to hear.

Sandy screwed up her face. “Oh, honey, please, that conjures up such a nasty vision and I just had my lunch.”

Barry stopped smiling.

On the way back to Sandy’s room Michelle filled her in on Barry’s actions.

“I’ve heard he listens for the showers to go on and off in the good-looking women’s rooms and then slips in for a little peek.”

Michelle looked outraged. “If the bastard has an MO that people know about why hasn’t he been fired?”

“People are afraid to speak up. Face
it,
most folks are here because they’re messed up, vulnerable. They’re not in the best position to defend themselves against assholes like that.”

“I’d love a few minutes alone with the guy. His face would be even uglier than it is now.”

“That would be hard to do,” Sandy replied.

Michelle wheeled Sandy into her room and saw the large bouquet of flowers on the nightstand. “You have a secret admirer?” she asked.

“Don’t all women?” Sandy fingered a rose petal. “Speaking of admirers, who was that tall, gorgeous man I saw you talking to when you first got here?”

“Sean King. We’re partners.”

“Partners?
So no ring yet?”

“No, we’re partners in a detective agency.”

“You’re a detective?”

“And ex–Secret Service.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for being a fed.”

“Why, are we supposed to have a certain look?”

“No. But I’m usually pretty good at telling the goodies from the baddies.”

“You’ve had a lot of experience with both?”

“Let’s just say I’ve had lots of experience
period.
” She patted Michelle’s hand.
“So this Sean King and you?
Anything happening outside of work?”

“Now you sound like my shrink.”

“Is he as good inside as he looks on the outside?”

“Even better actually.”

“Then honey, can I ask why you don’t have a ring on your finger?”

“We’re business partners.”

“There’re lots of ways to make a living. But it’s been my experience that handsome men with hearts of gold are as rare as a woman leaving a bar without getting her bottom grabbed. Find one like that, you better reel him in or someone else will.”

Michelle thought of Sean and Joan working together again while she was stuck in here having a fight for her soul with Horatio “Harley-Davidson” Barnes and getting
peeped
on by Barry the Dickhead. “It’s not that simple,” she finally said.

“Oh, women tell themselves that all the time. That’s partially because nothing for women is simple. It’s only simple for men and that’s because, God love the little bastards, they just can’t see any higher than they can grope.”

“Sean is different.”

“Then you’re just making my point for me. Screw the complex and keep it simple.
A ring on the finger.
That’s all it takes.”

“Assuming for argument’s sake that I’m willing, what if he’s not?”

Sandy ran her gaze over Michelle. “Then, frankly, he needs to be in here more than you. He might be a cut above most men, but I’m assuming he still has a zipper and something behind it.”

“Relying on physical attraction doesn’t work long term.”

“Of course it doesn’t! But you bait them with the curves, haul them in and use the time till your looks fail to train them properly.”

“Have you ever been married?”

“I was. For about ten minutes.”

“Quickie divorce?”

“No, I was shot on my wedding day and ended up like this. My husband of ten minutes wasn’t so lucky.”

“My God, he was killed?
During your wedding!”

Sandy nodded. “The wedding planner was pretty much speechless. She’d been fussing about the shrimp and the ice sculpture. She didn’t have a clue how to do triage.”

“How did it happen?”

Sandy nimbly lifted herself out of her chair and onto the bed. She had on a short-sleeve shirt and Michelle saw the ripple of triceps muscles and the veins down both the woman’s biceps. Sandy sat back on the bed. “What it
was,
was a long time ago. I only had the love of my life officially for ten minutes. But let me tell you I wouldn’t have traded it for a lifetime with anyone else. So you think about your Mr. King. You think long and hard. And realize he won’t always be there. Because there are lots of women out there who could give a damn about complex. They just take what they want, sweetie. They just take what they want.”