Beau had never been to Santa Fe before, but he’d heard good things about it and had been looking forward to his visit. He wasn’t disappointed: he liked the town immediately.
He had arrived on schedule at the modest airport and had been picked up by a stretch Jeep Cherokee! Beau had never seen such a vehicle before, and at first he’d thought it was comical. But after riding in it, he was willing to believe it might be superior to a normal limousine because of its height. Of course he had to admit to himself that he hadn’t had much experience with limousines of any sort.
As attractive as Beau found Santa Fe in general, it was only a harbinger of the beauty of the grounds of Cipher Software. After they had passed through a security gate Beau thought the facility had more of a resemblance to a posh resort than to a business establishment. Lush, rolling green lawns stretched between widely dispersed, well proportioned, modern buildings. Dense conifer forests and reflecting pools completed the picture.
Beau was dropped off at the central facility which, like the other buildings, was constructed of granite and gold-tinted glass. Several people who Beau had already met greeted him and told him that Mr. Randy Nite was waiting for him in his office.
As Beau and his escorts rose up in a glass-enclosed elevator through a plant-filled atrium, Beau was asked whether he was hungry or thirsty. Beau told them that he was fine.
Randy Nite’s office was huge, occupying most of the west wing of the third and top floor of the building. About fifty feet square, it was bounded on three sides with floor-to-ceiling glass. Randy’s desk stood in the center of this expansive space. It was made of a four-inch-thick slab of black and gold marble.
Randy was on the phone when Beau was ushered in, but he stood up immediately and waved Beau over to take a starkly modern black leather chair. He motioned to Beau that he’d be just a few minutes longer. Their job done, the escorts silently withdrew.
Beau had seen photos of Randy innumerable times as well as having seen him on TV. In person he appeared just as young and boyish, with a shock of red hair and a crop of pleasing freckles sprinkled across a wide, healthy-looking face. His gray-green eyes had a hint of merriment. He was about Beau’s height but not as muscular although he appeared fit.
“The new software will be shipping next month,” Randy was saying, “and the advertising blitz is poised to begin next week. It’s a dynamite campaign. Things couldn’t look any better. It’s going to take the world by storm. Trust me!”
Randy hung up and smiled broadly. He was dressed casually in a blue blazer, acid-washed jeans, and tennis shoes. It was no accident that Beau was dressed in a similar fashion.
“Welcome,” Randy said. He extended his hand, and Beau shook it. “I must say that my team has never recommended someone as highly as they have recommended you. Over the last forty-eight hours I’ve heard nonstop praise. It intrigues me. How has a college senior been able to manage such successful PR?”
“I suppose it’s a combination of luck, interest, and old-fashioned hard work,” Beau said.
Randy smiled. “Well put,” he said. “I’ve also heard you’d like to start out, not in the mail room, but as my personal assistant.”
“Everybody has to start someplace,” Beau said.
Randy laughed heartily. “I like that,” he said. “Confidence and a sense of humor. Kinda reminds me of myself when I started. Come on! Let me show you around.”
“The emergency room looks crowded,” Cassy said.
“I’ve never seen it like this,” Pitt said.
They were walking across the parking lot toward the ER dock. Several ambulances were there with their lights blinking. Cars were parked haphazardly, and the hospital security was trying to straighten things out. The dock itself was full of people overflowing from the waiting room.
Climbing the stairs Pitt and Cassy had to literally push their way through to the main desk. Pitt saw Cheryl Watkins and called out to her: “What on earth is going on?”
“We’ve been inundated with the flu,” Cheryl said. She sneezed herself, then coughed. “Unfortunately the staff hasn’t been immune.”
“Is Dr. Miller here?” Pitt asked.
“She’s working along with everyone else,” Cheryl said.
“Hang here,” Pitt told Cassy. “I’ll see if I can find her.”
“Try to be quick,” Cassy said. “I’ve never liked hospitals.”
Pitt got himself a white coat and pinned his hospital ID to the breast pocket. Then he started searching through the bays. He found Dr. Miller with an elderly woman who wanted to be admitted to the hospital. The woman was in a wheelchair ready to go home.
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Miller said. She finished writing on the ER sheet and slipped its clipboard into a pocket in the back of the wheel chair. “Your flu symptoms don’t warrant an admission. All you need is bed rest, analgesic, and fluids. Your husband will be in here in a moment to take you home.”
“But I don’t want to go home,” the woman complained. “I want to stay in the hospital. My husband frightens me. He’s not the same. He’s someone else.”
At that moment the husband appeared. He’d been brought back to retrieve his wife by one of the orderlies. Although as elderly as his wife, he appeared far more spry and mentally alert.
“No, no, please,” the woman moaned when she saw him. She tried to grasp Dr. Miller’s sleeve as the husband quickly rolled her out of the bay and toward the exit. “Calm down, dear,” the man was saying soothingly. “You don’t want to be a bother to these good doctors.”
In the process of slipping off her latex examining gloves, Sheila caught sight of Pitt. “Well, you were certainly right about this flu being on the increase. And did you hear the little exchange I just had?”
Pitt nodded. “Sounds suspiciously like there might have been a personality change on the part of the husband.”
“My thought as well,” Sheila said as she threw away the gloves. “But of course older people can be prone to disorientation.”
“I know you are busy,” Pitt said, “but could you spare a minute? A friend and I would like to talk with you. We don’t know who else to go to.”
Sheila agreed immediately despite the chaos in the ER. Pitt’s opinions the day before were appearing to be prophetic. She was now convinced this flu was different; for one thing an influenza virus had yet to be isolated.
She took Pitt and Cassy back to her office. As soon as the door closed it was like an island of tranquility in the middle of a storm. Sheila sat down. She was exhausted.
Cassy told the whole story of Beau’s transformation after his illness. Although she felt self-conscious about certain parts, she left nothing out. She even related what had happened the previous night, including the strange ball of light, the clandestine meeting, and the fact that everyone’s eyes glowed.
When Cassy was finished, Sheila didn’t say anything at first. She’d been absently doodling with a pencil. Finally she looked up. “Under normal circumstances with a story like this I’d send you over to psychiatry and let them deal with you. But these are not normal circumstances. I don’t know what to think about all this, but we should establish what facts we can. Now, Beau came down with his illness three days ago.”
Cassy and Pitt nodded in unison.
“I should see him,” Sheila said. “Do you think he’d be willing to come in and be examined?”
“He said he would,” Cassy said. “I asked him specifically about seeing someone professional.”
“Could you get him in here today?” Sheila asked.