“Really? You got through our firewall?”
“I didn’t. Zee did.”
Paula let out a mirthless laugh. “No wonder you were arrested! Why in heaven’s name did you do it? And why is it a story?”
George didn’t want to explain any more over the phone. “Let’s do this in person. I’m more afraid than ever that iDoc has been compromised. And I’m not referring to the hacking. I’m afraid your baby has been subverted and is now killing people.”
“George, do you know how that sounds?”
“Yes, I know. But meet with me. I’ll explain it all. It’s even more complicated than that. The federal government is also involved somehow on some level. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been arrested quite so quickly. Look, it’s truly complicated. After you hear me out, you decide if you buy any of it. But, please, let me explain it.”
“I can’t get my head around any of this, George. But for the sake of our friendship I’m willing to listen. Now, don’t take this wrong, but remember back in medical school that you had a tendency to subscribe to conspiracy theories. One time you even argued that there was no way Oswald had acted alone.”
“That was Pia’s take. I was just mouthing it for her benefit.”
“Well, regardless. When you said iDoc was in direct competition with the medical profession, I could understand why you were so negative. I mean, you come up with this great idea and instead of it being embraced by the medical profession, it gets stolen by the insurance industry. I can see where resentment might build up. That’s all I’m saying. But if you’re able to offer me some proof that iDoc has been subverted, then I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. But I need to know exactly what you think you’ve discovered right now, before you go spouting off to anyone else.”
“I’ll tell you everything. But only in person. I’m going to need your help, too, to be one hundred percent certain.”
She sighed and paused a moment, thinking. “Okay, let’s meet.”
“Great! How about now?”
“Okay.”
“I’m in a cab heading to my apartment, but actually I’m afraid to stay there.”
“What about your friend? Why is he in the paper?”
“Because he died.” George struggled to continue as emotion bubbled up. “He was driving on the freeway. The article says that his accelerator got stuck. It was an old Toyota. But that seems a little coincidental in light of the hack, don’t you think? When he left me he was terrified the government was coming after him.”
“Come directly to my house,” she replied with an urgency that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “Now! You can stay in my guest suite. Tell the driver to drop you at Four twenty-eight Sixteenth Street. It’s north of Montana Avenue in Santa Monica. I’m not saying I’m buying all of what you’re saying, but I don’t want you to take any risk. So come now. Okay?”
“I need to get my car and a few things from home first. I’ll be careful, trust me. And I’ll make sure no one follows me to your place.”
“Okay. If you insist. But be quick!”
When George reached his apartment he asked the cabdriver to drive around the block while he looked the place over. Everything seemed quiet as usual for a Sunday morning, so he told the driver to let him out.
George warily entered the complex, nervously scanning the area as he went. All was quiet. Once inside his apartment, he grabbed the baseball bat he kept in the umbrella stand and made a quick tour of the other rooms. Then he double-checked that all the doors and windows were locked. He even checked the closets and under the bed. He knew it was paranoid, but he couldn’t help himself.
Once George was satisfied he was alone, he first put Kasey’s things, which were still spread around on his bed, back in the cardboard box and placed the box in the closet. He had been handling the mementos when the SWAT team had invaded. Then he went into the bathroom, locked the door, and took a quick, needed shower. Feeling a slight bit more like a normal human, he got out a small travel bag and rapidly tossed in some of his things. He then quickly picked up the baseball bat, despite knowing full well the security it afforded was purely psychological. After less than fifteen minutes he was ready.
47
George headed out, the duffel bag in one hand, the baseball bat in the other. He skirted the pool occupied by a single young woman whom George had never seen before supine on a float, eyes closed, baking in the sun. She didn’t stir. It was hot. Sweat was already building on George’s brow as he went through the back gate out to the carport.
Before climbing into his car he gave the neighborhood a once-over by going out to the gutter to scan the street up and down, looking for anything out of the ordinary. He had never felt as apprehensive and distrustful as he did at that very moment. As much as he hoped no one was watching him, another part of him wanted to detect a suggestion of surveillance as he would then know for sure that his fears were justified.
A couple of people on the block were washing their cars, others walking their dogs as on any normal Sunday early afternoon. One of the dog walkers seemed to take issue with George staring at him and stared back for a beat. There were a couple of black SUVs with dark tinted windows parked along the street, but that was always the case, as popular as such vehicles were in L.A. But still… he wondered.
George watched for a time, but no one seemed to take note of his presence. Even the dog walker had moved on, replaced by a couple of kids with skateboards. Birds squawked and chirped, a dog barked, a sprinkler ticked its steady beat, and nothing happened. Finally he gave up and went back to his car.
George tossed his small travel bag in the Jeep’s backseat, along with his bat, and climbed into the driver’s seat. He turned the ignition, half expecting the car to blow up in a spectacular fireball as he’d seen in a dozen movies. Instead it turned over and coughed its way into its normal purr. He put the Cherokee in gear, backed out into the street, and drove off, carefully checking in his rearview mirror. He wanted to make sure that he wasn’t followed, particularly after what had happened to Zee. He did not want to put Paula in any more danger than he had by just talking to her on his cell.
As George drove and thought about his current situation, he admitted to being a rank amateur in the intrigue arena. In reality, he had no idea what he was doing or what someone with means and know-how was capable of doing with regard to keeping a close watch on him. If such a person or organization were interested in his actions and whereabouts, they would know how to stay out of sight — and with the federal government having access to FBI and CIA tactics, anything was possible. With that thought, he started to scan the skies out of his sunroof for drone activity. As far-fetched as that seemed, he couldn’t help himself; his paranoia had taken full and total control. He certainly didn’t want to end up like Zee.
Amateur or not, George thought being careful was prudent, and settled on a simple ruse. He detoured to the medical center and entered its multistory garage. Inside, he found a place where he could observe the entrance he’d used and watched the vehicles that came in after him. After a quarter of an hour, when he didn’t see anything at all suspicious, he exited the garage onto a street different from the one by which he had entered. As he picked up speed, he was confident he was not being followed.