The scene began to take on a surreal cast to Lash. Here he was, spinning out theories, while armed men eager to shoot him would break in any second. But he was almost done now; there was nothing else to do except finish.
“In such cases, one personality is usually dominant,” he went on. “Often it’s the normal, ‘good’ personality. The other personalities house the feelings that are too dangerous for the dominant personality.” He gestured at Silver. “So on the face of it, Richard is what he seems to be: a brilliant, if reclusive, computer engineer. The man who told me he feels almost a surgeon’s responsibility to his clients. But I fear there are other Richard Silvers, too, that we’re not allowed to see. The Richard Silver who was both hopelessly threatened by, yet irresistibly attracted to, the idea of a perfect mate. And, the other, darker, Richard Silver who feels murderous jealousy at the thought of another man possessing that perfect woman.”
He fell silent. Silver looked back at him, thin-lipped, eyes hard and glittering. In his expression, Lash read mortification and anger. But guilt? He wasn’t sure. And there was no more time now, no time at all…
As if to punctuate this thought, there came another deep thudding sound from below.
“In another few moments, Edwin will be here,” Silver said. “And this painful charade of yours will be over.”
Lash suddenly felt a great hollowness. “That’s it? You’ve got nothing else to say?”
“What am I supposed to say?”
“You could admit the truth.”
“The truth.” Silver almost spat the words. “The truth is you’ve insulted and humiliated me with this pseudo-psychological tale-spinning. So let’s put an end to this travesty. I’ve humored you long enough. You’re guilty of murder: have the guts to face up to it.”
“So you could live with yourself? You could sentence an innocent man to death?”
“You’re not innocent, Dr. Lash. Why not accept the truth? Everybody else has.”
Lash turned to Tara. “Is that true? What flavor of truth do you believe in this evening?”
“Flavor,” Silver said disdainfully. “You’re a serial murderer.”
“Tara?” Lash persisted.
Tara took a deep breath, turned to Silver. “You asked me something earlier. You asked, ‘Can you really imagine me killing those women?’ ”
For a moment, Silver looked puzzled. “Yes, I asked you that. Why?”
“Why did you single out the women? What about the men?”
“I—” Silver abruptly went silent.
“You hadn’t heard Christopher’s theory that the women alone were overdosed, given a medication that would guarantee suicidal-homicidal behavior. So why did you single out the women?”
“It was just a figure of speech.”
Tara did not reply.
“Ms. Stapleton,” Silver said in a harder tone. “In a few minutes, Lash will be subdued and restrained by my men. He will no longer pose a threat. Don’t make this any more complicated on anyone else — including yourself — than it need be.”
Still, Tara was silent.
“Silver’s right,” Lash said. He could hear the bitterness in his own voice. “He doesn’t have to admit anything. He can just keep his mouth shut. Nobody’s going to believe me now. There’s nothing more I can do.”
Tara made no indication she had heard. Her eyes remained veiled, far away.
And then, quite suddenly, they widened.
“No,” she said, turning to him. “There’s one more thing.”
FIFTY-FOUR
The room went still. For a moment, all Lash heard was the whispered susurrus of cooling fans.
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
In response, Tara took him aside. Then she nodded almost imperceptibly over her shoulder. Lash followed her gaze to the contoured chair encased behind Plexiglas at the far end of the room.
“Liza?” he asked in a very low voice.
“If you’re right about this, Silver would have accessed the system from here. Maybe there’s some kind of trail you could follow. Even if there isn’t, she would know.”
“She?”
“Liza would have a record of Silver’s access. He would have made inquiries into a variety of our subsystems: communications, medical, data gathering. A large number of external entities would have been touched to create the false workup on you. There’d be Lindsay Thorpe’s pharmaceutical records. There’d be all kinds of things. You could ask her directly.”
“I could ask her?”
“Why not? She’s a computer, she’s programmed to respond to commands.”
“That’s not what I mean. I haven’t any idea how to communicate with her.”
“You’ve seen Silver do it. You told me so, over that drink at Sebastian’s. That’s more than anyone else can say.” She stepped back, looked at him quizzically. You’re the one with everything at stake here, the look said. If you’re telling the truth, wouldn’t you do anything to prove it?
“What are you two talking about?” Silver asked. He had been guardedly watching the exchange.
Lash looked at the chair and the leads that snaked away from it. It was the last desperate gamble of a desperate man. But Tara was right. He had nothing to lose.
He strode across the room, opened the Plexiglas panel, and quickly slid into the sculpted chair.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Silver’s voice was suddenly loud in the cramped room.
Lash did not answer. He looked around, trying to recall just what he’d seen Silver do before. He pulled down the small screen that hung from a telescoping arm, affixed the lavalier microphone to his torn collar.
“You can’t do that!” Silver said. He stood up slowly, as if stunned by Lash’s brazenness.
“Who’s going to stop me? You?” Lash lifted the EEG leads, began fastening them to his temples. He thought back to what Silver had said about Liza: her highly developed intelligence models, her three-dimensional neural network. That he could hope to interact with her, let alone find the information he needed, seemed the height of folly. Yet he could not let Silver see his doubt.
Leads attached, he reached down to the console and snapped the EEG into life. The screen before him cleared; several columns of numbers scrolled rapidly up and out of sight. He glanced at the small keypad and stylus set into one of the arms. He remembered Silver had used the keypad prior to communicating directly with Liza. “Getting her attention,” he’d said. Somehow or other, he’d have to get her attention, too. He reached for the keypad.
“Get out of that chair,” Silver warned. He was pacing now, as if in a quandary over what to do.
“Don’t worry. I won’t break her.”
“You haven’t a clue what you’re doing. This won’t get you anywhere. It’s a waste of time.”
Beneath the indignation, Lash sensed nervousness in Silver’s tone. He noted the man’s pacing with interest. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”
“Nobody else has ever spoken directly with Liza.”
“Don’t you remember what you told me last time I was here? You said others could communicate with her, too, given proper concentration and training.”
“The operative words there are proper concentration and training, Lash.”
“I’m a quick study.”
This was said with a confidence Lash did not feel. He looked from the keypad to the screen, then back again. Get her attention.
What do computers respond to? Commands. Statements in programs.