The Kaleidoscope (29 page)

Before the curtains closed on his consciousness, Harold almost called Stan to tell him about Morrie’s cousin, but now he couldn’t recall why it was important. Already half asleep, he tucked the pizza box in the trash, and put himself to bed.

****

The courtyard was filled with well-wishers gathering around Pepper on her last day. Harold hung back, nibbling at the too-sweet cake and watching her hugging people she’d probably only met briefly. It seemed that everyone who met Pepper loved her.

He was about to give up on having a moment alone with her, and was headed upstairs when she called his name. “Harry, wait!”

He gave her a quick hug on his good side. “Hey, I was hoping to see you one more time.”

“How’re the turtles?” Pepper asked, but she seemed to be asking more about him than the pets.

“They’re fine. The new aquarium set up is perfect.”

She grabbed his elbow and pulled him away from the others.

“I’m going to miss you, Harry.” Pepper stood on tiptoe to peck him on the cheek, and he didn’t care if anyone saw her do it. “Will you miss me?”

“Of course. I’m going to miss you as well.”

“Really?”

Her eyes searched his. “Why don’t you think I would?”

“Every time I mention leaving, you never say a word to try and get me to stay. All I hear is, ‘good luck,’ and ‘you’ll be a blessing to them.’”

“You will be…” Harold forced himself to think without cue cards, to speak without rehearsing. “You’ve been a blessing to Morrie…and to me. I may even come out to visit you in New York.”

“Oh, Harry.”

“What? Didn’t I say the right thing?”

“Why are you always trying to be so sure you are saying the right thing to other people? Why not say what’s in here?” She poked a finger into his chest, a sensation he was going to miss. “What are you feeling in here, Harry?” People were watching them.

“What am I feeling?” He searched for an honest answer. Time was running out. “I’m…” but instead of saying what he was feeling, Harry acted on what he wanted. In the middle of the courtyard, in the middle of the day, he leaned down, and kissed Pepper Eubanks on the mouth. It was a sloppy kiss, and his ribs ached from how he had to lean over, but when she realigned her lips to his, and threw her arm around his neck, Harold hardly noticed the applause and whistles from the crowd standing around the sheet cake on the folding table in the corner.

****

“We have a couple tricks up our sleeve.” Pepper had introduced Harold to the senior partner, Alec Munro, who agreed to take his dad’s case.

“The complications of the murder charges and corporate espionage make this something that could take a team several months of preparation,” the attorney warned.

Harold grabbed Pepper’s hand and smiled at her. Did he have the right to ask so much of her? He could never thank her enough for helping him with the confusing legal terms. But mostly he needed her near him. It was as if her soul was a light that shone into his soul, illuminating the best parts of him.

Alec led them down a wood and chrome-lined hallway to a suite of offices, and into a conference room. The articles, notebooks, and even some of Walter’s tools were laid out, and several young men and women in suits, armed with laptops, were poring over them.

“We’re going over everything your dad had with him, and we’re making calls to verify his theories. Your dad is a genius, Harold. He had been going to the legal library looking at case law. I think his work may save us some time.”

Harold surveyed the ordered chaos strewn across the table. “You’re saying there is a chance he didn’t kill my mom?
Was
he set up?”

“Let me show you something.” Alec motioned to one of the young attorneys who handed him a leather-bound journal, battered and aged. He flipped to a page marked with an orange sticky note and began reading. “Stayed in the lab last night working on the algorithm that will be the foundation of the AI system I’m calling ‘Kaleidoscope’…”

Harold drew in a breath. The journal his dad told him about. “He’s describing the birth of the ’scope.”

“This is from 1979. The year before he left graduate school.” Alec handed him the journal.

“Grandma told me he had to leave when he was accused of cheating. Stealing designs.”

The attorney nodded. “That’s a major part of what we’re starting with. If we can prove he wasn’t cheating, that the designs were his in the first place, then we can go from there and find out who might have been after his designs. Whoever wanted the designs may have gone too far in trying to scare him off. The entire artificial intelligence industry seems to have suffered a blow when your mom died. When he disappeared, taking his advances with him, he took abilities we might have used to foresee 9/11, battle terrorism. Your dad was making advances against cyber-terrorism before it became a household word.”

Pepper squeezed Harold’s hand. “Alec, we have to do everything we can to get Walter’s name cleared.” She rubbed Harold’s shoulder. “I have to get back to my desk, but you’re in good hands.”

When she’d gone, Harold spoke. “There’s something else I need your help with.”

“Shoot.”

“Can we go somewhere private?”

Alec led him into a large wood-paneled corner office and indicated an overstuffed visitor chair.

“I think I’ve discovered skimming in my office. Internal.”

Alec’s reaction was steady, yet he grabbed a fresh notepad. “Pepper told me you’re in anti-fraud. Someone in your company who is hired to prevent fraud is actually skimming? Do you realize what you’re suggesting?”

Harold nodded. “His name is Gordon Collins.” He pulled a flash drive from his pocket. “I wrote a program that monitors our own people’s activity, and it uncovered an anomaly I can trace directly to him. I thought about telling legal, but well, after learning what happened to my own dad, I knew it would be better to find someone without vested interest.”

Alec’s eyes met his over steepled fingers.

“Because if my suspicions are correct, someone else is aware and allowing it.”

****

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay in your cubicle and mind your own business.”

The middle of the night phone call rattled Harold, and it was over so fast he couldn’t make out the caller. Either a man with a high voice or a woman with a smoker’s growl.

He didn’t know who to call first, so he settled on Pepper, who came right over. She and Glenda came in with a rush of questions and concerns, hugged him, and they curled up on the couch wrapped in each other’s arms.

“You should call the police.”

“And tell them what?”

“Any time your life is threatened, you need to take it seriously.”

“I do take this very seriously. But…” His hand shook, but this time it wasn’t because a pretty girl had her arm around him.

“Still afraid you can’t trust anyone? Then call Stan,” she urged. “Who do you sense it was? Close your eyes and try to recall anything about the voice.”

He replayed the call in his mind. “The phone woke me up, and I wrecked my arm on the table. I tried to listen with this ear but it’s still not a hundred percent. I got nothing else to add.”

“Then let’s think. Who would want to harm you?”

“Rhashan.”

“Rhashan would never call and threaten, much less harm you.”

“Then there’s Gordon Collins. I may have uncovered an embezzlement ring.”

“Good heavens, Harry. I thought you were a mild-mannered computer coder.”

“Only by day.” He tried to sound light. “Then there’s Morrie and his cousin.”

“Morrie’s your best friend. What could he possibly want to warn you about?”

He described the meeting in the tea shop, and how Joseph had been more interested in the Kaleidoscope than in chatting about hiking the PCT. “Something about him just didn’t add up.” It still nagged at Harold.

“For instance?”

And then he knew. “He wasn’t wearing socks.”

“A lot of people don’t wear socks.”

“When a hiker’s just come off the trail, their feet are chewed up. Blistered. He had the feet of a newborn babe.”

Pepper thrust the phone at him. “Call Stan. Now.”

After he heard about the threatening call, Stan startled Harold when he said, “Excellent. This is terrific news, we’ve stirred up the right people.” Harold circled a finger at his own temple.

“They may also know where you live,” Stan went on, “so you’d better get somewhere safe. Can you get a ride? The wife’s gone to visit her mom and Keith’s old room is empty. You can stay here.” The invitation came out in a rush.

Harold told Stan he had something else to say but Stan shushed him, warning him not to say any more in case the phones were tapped.

“And make sure you’re not being tailed,” Stan warned before he hung up.

Harold let Pepper drive him to Van Nuys. As in every black ops spy movie he’d ever seen, they drove side streets, Harold checking “their six” for headlights that made the same turns. Despite their joking about the cloak and dagger techniques, Harold worried he’d gotten them both into something more dangerous than either one of them wanted to admit.

When they arrived, Pepper pulled into the garage that Stan had waiting open, and he closed the door before Harold and Pepper got out of the car.

Before he could fully process what had happened, Harold was settled into Keith’s old bedroom, alone in the suburban darkness. Pepper had left, and Stan had gone back to bed. He lay in Keith’s childhood bedroom pondering the events. Just a few weeks ago he was trying to figure out how to get a promotion at work, and lure Georgia back. Now he was embroiled in spy games and death threats and had basically forgotten about the woman who’d called him dull. He studied the glow-in-the-dark-planet stickers on the ceiling, replaying the call that had started this latest turn of events.

The caller’s gravelly voice and the scary reminder of what he’d gotten involved in were enough to keep Harold tossing and turning. The planetary sheets were slick with sweat as he imagined the worst. First his mom, now he was the target.

He arose and stumbled across the hall. Even though it wasn’t yet light outside, he shaved and showered. By the time he was dressed, dawn’s light seeped through drawn blinds. Stan was up, already nursing a steaming mug in the kitchen. He motioned toward the coffeemaker, cell phone to his ear, and Harold poured himself a cup while Stan finished his call.

“I’ll let Harold know, thanks for calling.” His host punched off. “They’ve moved your dad. There was a jailhouse rumor he was in danger.”

“Who are these people, and what do they want from us?”

“Harold, you need to face the facts. It could be years before we know…or maybe we’ll never be able to prove anything. Some of the evidence and trails are so cold no amount of magical detective CPR will revive them without his cooperation.”

“My dad kept meticulous notes. There’s got to be someone or something that can prove he was framed for my mom’s death and that his designs were his own without unearthing spooks to kill him. Us.” Harold was stunned when he realized he was actively hoping for his dad’s innocence.

“It’s probably too late for keeping your involvement a secret. Last night’s call was proof of that. They’re alerted. Harold, since you were there, it’s possible you heard or saw something that might help in the investigation. I know you were just a kid, but buried deep inside, if you can recall a face or a conversation, anything that might help, it could make the difference before they kill again.”

Chapter Twenty

“We could consult a hypnotist.” Pepper had arrived and was helping Stan persuade Harold he could dislodge repressed memories. “Or what about asking your relatives? They might remember something. You need closure, honey.”

“Mom was an only child, and I’ve lost contact with all my dad’s side. And no hypnotist.”

“Or dreams. Do you have any dreams or nightmares?” Keith had arrived with Frank, and now they all sat around a wooden picnic table out back.

“I’ve heard some witnesses have luck with hypnosis.” Stan was grilling hot dogs and hamburgers for their lunch. He used giant tongs to flip the patties.

Glenda explored the backyard, and Pepper was holding out a plate for Stan to fill with the cooked meats. “Just be careful you don’t get one of those quacks who helps you conjure memories of things that never happened.”

“What about using the Kaleidoscope? Maybe it can tell you something,” Frank suggested.

“So far it’s only told the future.” Pepper observed.

Frank quipped, “Wish it had a Google search.”

“What about revisiting the scene of the crash?” Keith suggested. “Where did it happen?”

Harold studied the hot dog in his hand, the smell of mustard once again evoking a strong sensory memory of the crash.

“Son, that’s a brilliant idea.” Stan clapped him on the shoulder. “Everyone finish eating, we’re taking a field trip to the intersection of Sunset and Gower.”

****

Stan’s car was still awaiting repairs from the raid, so they piled in Keith and Frank’s SUV and headed for Hollywood.

“I thought some of the sights might trigger something,” Stan said. “Although this place is really cleaned up a lot in the past few years. Anything coming back yet, Harold?”

“Why were you driving around here?” Pepper wanted to know as they passed the famous sights. Grauman’s Chinese Theater, the Wax Museum.

He could only recall snippets, and repeated the information his grandmother had told him. “My mom had a job in the studio. I guess in one of the production offices. From what I was told, she usually worked, at least part time, since my dad never managed to hold down a real job.”

As Stan said, the area had changed since Harold was little, but the landmarks, the studio entrances, and RCA Records building were all familiar, although he didn’t know if it was just because they were icons anyone would recognize or if it was really something that had registered in his childhood brain. They crawled behind a tour bus and skidded to a stop for a group of pedestrians more focused on finding their favorite stars’ names along the Walk of Fame than observing crosswalk signals.