Chapter Three

Fridays were usually busy at the museum, and this one was no exception. Three separate tours came through in the morning, and while the activities of a docent weren’t really part of her job description, Mia was usually happy to pitch in when needed. She loved describing the exhibits and relating the history of the artists. To her it was like discussing old friends. But today it frustrated her, because it meant the morning was shot. It was noon before she could steal time to access the facility’s main computer and log into LexisNexis, the all-knowing database.

Her search yielded more information on the key people at Carpenter Techtronics and a hint of the type of robotics they developed. Many of the articles she found were too technical for her to understand, but she was sure her friend could help her decode them. She printed out everything she found and tapped the edges of the papers to align them, then picked them up to slide them into the large envelope with her stash from the previous night. But the moment her fingers gripped the pages, the picture of the rock zapped her brain. It flickered before her eyes, dancing across the printing on the page, fading in and out. She tried to hang onto the image but, as always, it disappeared before she had enough time to study it.

This time, however, something else was added. An unexpected feeling of dread swept over her, almost of panic, and a strange voice drifting in the air whispered, “Someone’s going to be killed.”

Mia looked around to make sure no one was in the room with her. No, the room was empty. She was alone. This wasn’t the first time she’d heard a voice in her head, sending her a cryptic message, but she wondered whether her senses had gotten screwed up by the visions of that man. She didn’t know what else to call him. So what was someone trying to tell her now? Who would be killed? And who was the mysterious “someone” in the whispered message?

She pulled a tissue from the box on her desk and blotted the perspiration on her face. Uncapping the bottle of water she always kept handy, she drank deeply, trying to steady herself. She was smart enough and knowledgeable enough from her prior experiences to know what the key message was now. Someone was probably going to steal something from Carpenter Techtronics, and someone else would be killed when it happened. But who? And what kind of rock, robot or not, would be worth killing for?

She desperately wanted to warn the company, to put them on the alert, but her history of unfortunate episodes reminded her not to make a move until she had every bit of information she could get. She pulled up her telephone directory on her computer, picked up the phone, and dialed Brad Richardson’s number. Here was someone who didn’t think she was a nut and who she was sure could help her decipher all the information she’d gathered.

At their chance meeting in a book store, Mia had been stunned to learn that Brad, an engineer, would be interested in something so diametrically opposed to the field he was in. They’d gone for coffee that night and many times afterward. It was a totally asexual friendship. Mia felt comfortable enough with him to confide in him about her precognition, knowing he wouldn’t look at her as if she were a freak.

She could probe his mind on this new vision. Maybe he could even give her some clues as to its meaning. It was a long shot, but . . . maybe. So despite the work still piled up on her desk, she dialed Brad’s number.

“So,” she said, pleasantries disposed of, “can I interest you in a margarita on the Riverwalk tonight? I know it’s Friday, but if you can get away early enough we can meet at Casa Rio by four.”

“Is this a ‘Gee, Brad, I was just thinking how great it would be to have a drink with you’ call or a ‘Hey, Brad, can I ply you with alcohol and pick your brain’ invitation?”

Mia’s laugh was nervous. “A little bit of both. Are you on?”

“Of course. I’m always interested to see why my favorite psychic needs me.”

Her hand tightened on the phone. “I wish you wouldn’t do that, Brad. You know how I feel about it.”

His voice sobered. “I’m sorry. But remember, I’m one of the few who has ultimate faith in your abilities.”

“And I thank you for that. So. Four o’clock?”

“See you then.”

* * * * *

Any day of the week the famous Riverwalk, the top tourist attraction in Texas, was crowded with an eclectic mixture of tourists and locals, sightseers and shoppers. The stone walkways on either side of the narrow, meandering San Antonio River passed in front of a colorful assortment of shops and restaurants, and were always filled with wall-to-wall people. On the weekends the crowds multiplied exponentially.

At Casa Rio, Mia was lucky enough to snag the last empty table outside under one of the trademark colorful umbrellas. She had deliberately chosen the meeting place for the noise factor. Here, with people chatting all around them, shouting back and forth, and mariachi music punctuating the babble, her conversation with Brad would be difficult for anyone to overhear. The waitress brought the customary hot tortilla chips and took her drink order.

He arrived minutes after she did, looking as always slightly disheveled and windblown, and gave her the obligatory hug and peck on the cheek. He made short work of the margarita she had waiting for him, ordered a second, and sat back in his chair.

“Okay. Let’s have it. You look like you’re sitting on hot coals.”

Mia knew she didn’t have to play games with Brad. He understood her, believed in her precognitive powers, and she’d known him long enough to trust him. To speak freely with him.

She recounted her latest “episodes,” then said, “I’ve done all the research I can, but I can’t identify what this dumb rock is or understand the information I found on robotics. I’m hoping that’s where you can help. I’d also like your take on Carpenter Techtronics.”

“Okay, kiddo, I’m happy to do what I can,” he told her. “But you know I’ve done a lot of studying on your abilities since we met, and we’ve discussed it. Precognitive visions aren’t always specific. You’re getting a glimpse of a future event, but because the visions are usually in bits and pieces they can be difficult to understand.”

“I know, I know. ‘If precognition is a glimpse of the true or real future, then the effects are witnessed before the causes, and the causes have to be determined.’” She sighed. “I’ve heard you say it and read it often enough.”

“Okay.” He swallowed half his second drink and held out his hand. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Mia reached into her tote to take out the envelope. But as soon as her hand closed over it, her body froze. She was gripped by an image of a knife being plunged in; her vision blurred, and her whole body trembled. Dropping her tote, she reached out for the table to steady herself.

“Mia?” Brad moved around the table to the chair next to her, looping his arm around her shoulders. “Are you with me?” He picked up a glass of water from the table and held it to her lips. “Come on, drink some of this. Just a swallow.”

She shut her eyes tightly, willing the image to disappear. When she opened them, she was still seated at the table, the crowd eddying around her, loud voices piercing her consciousness. Everything normal. No gory images. Her face was covered with a fine sheen of perspiration, and her throat was as dry as dust. But there was no image of a knife or blood.

“Come on,” Brad urged again. “Just take a sip, Mia. It’ll help you calm yourself.”

She took the water glass from Brad with a hand that was still shaking. “Thank you. I’m so sorry.”

“Honey, you don’t have to be sorry. I just worry when these things hit you.” He reached down and picked up her tote. “Let me take the envelope out and look through it, okay? You need more water?”

She looked at the glass and realized she’d drained it. “Yes, please.”

Brad moved back to his original seat across from her, signaled for the waitress to bring the water pitcher, and pulled the sheets of paper from the envelope. He spread them fanlike on the table. “Give me a minute to look this stuff over, okay? You just drink your water and center yourself.”

Mia forced herself to sit quietly, nibbling at the tortilla chips and sipping the fresh water. She’d pushed her margarita aside. Alcohol was the last thing she needed right now, feeling as shaky as she did, her insides like tapioca. The image of the knife being thrust into someone had lodged a knot of fear in her stomach. The visions that predicted death always frightened her beyond belief and made her feel helpless. And the whispering voice drifted through her brain again.

Someone’s going to be killed.

Brad took his time reading the printouts, finishing his margarita, and then ordering a glass of club soda with lime. He grinned when Mia raised her eyebrows.

“Time for a clear head,” he told her.

At last he stacked the papers back in a neat file and sat looking at her.

“Giving you a crash course in robotics would take more time than either you or I want to spend, so I won’t even try. Let me just tell you this: the recent innovations in engineering have had huge impacts in medicine, criminal justice, and the military. Everyone keeps trying to build a better mousetrap, as it were, and Carpenter Techtronics has been working to get out in front of the crowd. Especially with their projects for the military.”

“Is that what this rock is all about?”

Brad grinned at her. “Rumor has it in the lower circles where I travel that they’ve designed a miniaturized robot with a lot of new bells and whistles. Things that will help both the cops and the military in a multitude of situations. But there’s a lockdown on the information, as you’d expect, so that’s all anyone knows about it.” He took a swallow of club soda. “This ‘rock,’ as you call it, probably represents the robot, although why it shows up as a rock is beyond me. That’s your department, honey.”

Mia chewed on a thumbnail. “If I’m reading the images right, someone’s going to try to steal it. But what if I’m wrong? What if I try to warn them and I just make a fool of myself like I’ve done so many other times? I can’t just call up the company and say I think you’ve got a problem. They’ll either ignore me or have me committed.”

“Send an anonymous email like you’ve done before. At least it will catch someone’s attention.”

“But how will I know if they even receive it? I can’t exactly ask them to acknowledge it. They’d know who sent it if I did. And what if they ignore it?” she cried. “The voice said they’d kill him.”

What if someone gets killed because I didn’t warn them?

“Then you still have the option to call them. Or you can send the email to the newspaper at the same time. That usually gets some action.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a really good idea. I can see the headlines. ‘Kook at it again.’”

She twisted her napkin in her fingers, wishing inspiration would hit her the way her images did.

Brad reached across the table and rested his hand on her arm. “Look. They have a big press conference slated for next week. I’m guessing it’s to announce this newest techno-toy. Everyone’s watching them like a hawk. If they take the message seriously there’ll be some obvious activity, and the media will report it. If not, you still have time to call, although I know that’s your last resort.”

Mia sighed and crumbled a tortilla chip. “I guess you’re right. As usual.”

“Mia, if this thing is what I think it is and someone’s planning to steal it, whoever gets it could sell it to any one of our enemies for millions of dollars. That could be a disaster for the United States. It’s worth making an effort to warn them.”

“Okay. I hear you.” She signaled for the check. “Thanks for taking the time to meet me. Go on. I don’t want to screw up your entire Friday night.”

“It’s just a bunch of us having drinks at that new place at the other end of the Riverwalk.” He raised an eyebrow. “Want to join us?”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass. I think I need some quiet time.”

Brad gave her quick, affectionate squeeze. “Call if you need me, okay?”

“I will.”

* * * * *

She wrestled with it Friday night and all day Saturday. By Sunday she was a nervous wreck, but she’d made up her mind that it had to be done. If something happened and she hadn’t sent out a warning, she’d never forgive herself. The image of the plunging knife hung in her brain, and a bad feeling lingered. The sooner she did something, the quicker she got a warning out, the faster someone could take action. Brad was right. She had several options open to her. She just needed to use them one at a time.

She thought about using an Internet café to send her message, but she didn’t trust their security. No matter how many layers she built over her identity, public computers were set up to retain information. She’d learned that the hard way. Her laptop was a possibility, but she’d discovered because of the built-in security systems at the museum that her best bet was the computer at her desk. Harder to break into, and therefore harder to track the email back to her.

“Nice to see you, Dr. Fleming.” The guard at the lobby desk slid the logbook toward her so she could sign in. “Sorry you have to work on a Sunday.”

She forced a smile. “Just coming in to check a few things for the upcoming exhibit.”

“You work too hard,” he chided. “I hope the museum properly appreciates you.”

“As long as you do, Harry, that’s all that counts.” She winked at him as she headed for the elevators, trying to maintain a casual air.

The basement area where her office was located was lit only by the night-security lights. To some people it might seem a frightening place, but for Mia it offered a sense of security. The familiar surroundings balanced things much more terrifying than shadows.

Sitting at her desk, she turned on the little reading lamp, booted up the computer, then began the process of creating an anonymous identity for herself. Even if someone backtracked any part of it, they’d still have to get through the museum’s firewall, which was one of the best around.

She nibbled on her thumbnail while she composed and discarded the message several times in her head. Finally she looked up Carpenter Techtronics’s website to get their email address. Lucky for her they were one of those companies that listed each executive’s email separately. Flexing her fingers she began to type.

Mr. Carpenter,

You don’t know me, so I know you’ll be very skeptical of this note. But I hope you will believe me. I have come into some information that leads me to believe that your latest robotic design is in danger of being stolen before your upcoming press conference. This is just to warn you that you need to make sure you have the best security in place.

A friend.

Her finger hovered over the send button. Once it was gone, the deed was done. No calling it back. And there still lingered the remote chance she could be discovered. Then, resolutely, she pressed the key, and the message flew into cyberspace. Now to make sure he actually got it and paid attention to it. That it didn’t sit on his computer all weekend. Even though it was Sunday, she was sure with the upcoming event there was a good chance Chase Carpenter would still be working.

She pulled a throwaway cell phone from her purse, found the Carpenter Techtronics phone number, and dialed it. The receptionist and other office staff were most probably gone by now, but if she was lucky, at least she’d get a security guard.

Sure enough, a bored male voice answered, telling her the offices were closed until Monday. Would she like to leave a message or call back?

Wrapping the bottom of her blouse over the speaker area on her telephone, she recited in an uninflected voice, “Tell Mr. Carpenter he has an urgent message on his computer, and it can’t wait until next week. It has to do with his new project.”

She clicked off, then separated the battery from the phone itself. She’d toss them both on the way home, as she’d done many times before. She hoped she wouldn’t have to deliver too many more messages. Cell phones were expensive, and she seldom used these more than once.

Locking her office, she took the elevator back to the lobby and signed out.

“Decided my brain was too worn out to think,” she told Harry. “See you Monday.”