CHAPTER TWO
Dominic growled something under his breath as he battered Topher's door aside and stormed into the treatment room. Boyd followed a few steps behind. Topher blinked in surprise and jumped to his feet. He moved quickly to hide the donut in his hand behind his back. He blinked again and remembered to grab his coffee, still sitting on the multi-million dollar computer that ran the chair, hiding that behind his back as well.
"What do you mean you can't track her? What are we paying you for anyways Topher!"
"Whoa, hold on Dom!" Topher stepped back and held his hand up in front of himself to ward Dominic off, but to Boyd it looked like Topher was offering Dominic breakfast. "That's not my job! I just program them. You want to yell at someone for losing Echo, yell at Boyd! He's the one whose supposed to be her shadow!"
Boyd shrugged. "Dominic already yelled at me."
Dominic shot him a withering glare but immediately turned his attention back to Brink.
"The tracking implant Topher, why aren't we getting a reading?"
"I don't know! There's all kinds of reasons the signal could be blocked. Military grade anti-surveillance shielding would do it. But maybe he threw her overboard and she's too deep to get a signal! Or maybe his yacht is actually a submarine! How should I know? All I know is what you know: that he flew Echo five miles off the coast and disappeared."
Dominic continued to yell at Topher, Topher continued to make excuses. Boyd ignored them both and took a look at Topher's monitors. They showed the same information as his readouts in the van. They were currently showing information on Echo.
"You said something about shielding. Could you do that on a yacht?"
Topher set down the coffee and donut, running a hand through his hair as he let out a long sigh. "Yeah, I suppose. Just the cabin though, no way to shield a deck."
"That's what I thought. So Echo must be on the deck."
Dominic and Topher both stopped and stared at Boyd. He pointed to the monitor and they followed his finger. Topher's eyes went wide as he rushed to the computer.
"Echo is back online!"
"Where is she?" Dominic growled.
"Hold on, the satellites are trying to get a fix on her. Okay she's – that can't be right. She's 200 miles off the coast of California and heading east."
***
Lori turned in to the wind and took a deep breath, trying to enjoy the salty spray that came across the bow. The powerful boat crashed through another wave and the deck rolled beneath her. She had been sailing many times before, but never in swells like these. It was making her a little seasick.
Richard appeared behind her with a glass of champagne.
"Find the cabin boring?"
"Oh, no. I'm just feeling, you know, a little green. Thought some fresh air might help."
Lori took the glass and sipped from it. She wasn't sure she needed more alcohol, Richard had been pouring drinks into her since they'd arrived on his yacht. Not that she had any plans to resist him, should he try something. She rather hoped he would try something, and tossed back the glass. She giggled as the bubbles caused her nose to crinkle.
"Oh, excuse me. You know Richard, we've hardly stepped foot out of that cabin since we arrived. Don't you enjoy the sea? I can't imagine owning a ship like this and not taking advantage of it. Can't you feel the ocean spray? Isn't it lovely?"
Richard smiled sheepishly. "Not as lovely as you."
Lori laughed. He was so corny, so earnest. It was adorable.
"Really though, we should go inside. I have Dramamine, it will help with the seasickness."
"Alright, we'll go back inside."
Richard smiled and took her elbow gently, guiding her back towards the cabin. She wondered if he was afraid of the sea. She'd read it was a common phobia, and Richard did seem the sort who would buy a luxury yacht simply to own one. Which was fine with her. She was quite willing to enjoy his luxuries for him.
***
"Where'd she go?" Dominic fumed. "Bring her back!"
Almost as soon as they'd come on, Echo's vital signs had gone dead and her GPS tracker fell silent again.
"I'm not doing anything Dom! If I could bring her back I would. But I can't!"
"Okay, calm down. Just everyone take a deep breath. Obviously Cryer has Echo, and obviously he's got her on his yacht, where he's clearly got some kind of shielding. Now she seems to be moving about, so for the moment let's assume she's okay and doesn't know she's being kidnapped. Apparently Cryer is taking her to Australia, or possibly Asia. Now, has anyone told DeWitt?
Topher blinked rapidly and looked back and forth from Dominic to Boyd. "Not it!"
"I'll tell her," Dominic growled. Shooting a glance at Boyd he added: "But you're coming with me to do it."
***
Inside the cabin Richard fumbled around under the bar, looking for the Dramamine. While he searched, Lori looked about the well appointed stateroom. A small bookcase caught her eye and she moved closer to examine it.
Most of the books appeared to be about economics, no surprise given Richard's interest in markets. A well-worn copy of Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged sat nestled between dense tomes of dry theory.
"Oh, Ayn Rand! I love her!"
"Do you? That's a signed first edition. I met her once you know. Very nice lady."
"Really? Oh that must have been a treat. You know, I've often thought of myself as being like Dagny Taggart, always searching for my John Galt."
Richard appeared at her side, another glass of champagne at the ready. She took it and he held out his other hand, revealing two small blue tablets.
"What's that?"
"The Dramamine, for your stomach."
"Oh, of course." She took the pills from him and washed them down quickly as Richard picked up his own glass and lifted it up.
"I'd like to propose a toast."
"A toast? To what?"
"Here's to the Dagny Taggarts of the world, may they all find their John Galt."
Lori raised her glass and it clinked against Richard's own.
"I think she may already have," she whispered into her glass as Richard reached for the bottle, ready to pour more. She walked over to the leather couch that dominated the far wall of the cabin and took a seat, patting the cushion next to her to invite Richard to join her. He sat down nervously and she rested her hand on his knee. He was trembling slightly.
"So tell me, what's your favorite part of Atlas?"
Lori nodded and smiled as Richard tried to explain why it was his favorite book, not really interested in his answer but happy to feign it. She knew the topic would relax his guard and help him to open up. His answer was actually rather interesting, and she began to glimpse the powerful mind of a master strategist that must lurk behind his nebbish and ineffectual exterior, but try as she might she couldn't keep her eyes open.
Soon she found herself apologizing for a yawn and blaming the alcohol for her drowsiness. She leaned in close to Richard and rested her head on his shoulder. His hand slid gently across her hair as he brushed it from her face and the cabin faded away. She drifted off into sleep.
***
As soon as the doll fell asleep, Richard rose, gently sliding her down on to the couch. He moved quickly to the intercom and pressed the button.
"Doctor Joyce? She's unconscious. You can come up now."
Richard paced back and forth nervously as he waited for the doctor to arrive, casting sidelong glances at the doll as it slept on his couch. Not it, he thought, her. It's not a robot, he reminded himself. She's not a robot.
Doctor Joyce arrived. The old man had clearly been drinking, his nose was as red and round as a ripe cherry tomato.
"Are you sober enough to perform the surgery?"
"Surgery? Pshaw, Mr. Cryer. What you've asked me to do is as much surgery as removing a wart or lancing a boil. I could do this in my sleep. You gave her the pills?"
"Yes, she took them both. Plenty of alcohol as well. You're sure it won't cause a bad reaction? I don't want her to die."
Joyce set his little black bag down next to the couch and grabbed the doll's legs, stretching her out on the couch and then rolling her onto to her stomach.
"Pretty sure. Alcohol just makes them kick in faster. Should last awhile. We'll be in Kiribati before she wakes up."
As he assured Richard that she would be fine, he drew a small black case from his bag, followed by handheld device which he ran up along the doll's spine. It made a soft ping sound near the base of her neck.
"Is that it?" Richard asked as he watched over the doctor's shoulder.
"Ayup." Joyce pressed his fingers hard into the base of the doll's next and opened the small case with his other hand, dextrously removing a gleaming steel scalpel. With a few deft strokes he had opened up the back of her neck. Then, as if he were a Vegas magician, a pair of tweezers appeared in his hand as the scalpel disappeared. He reached into the small, bloody incision he'd made and pulled hard.
The doll twitched for a second and Joyce held up his prize. It was about three centimeters long, black and studded with silver pins. The dollhouse's tracking device. Joyce smiled and dropped it into Richard's champagne flute.
"Easiest million dollars I ever made," he offered with a smile, and both men chuckled.