Free Silhouette by Dave Swavely Page B

right?”
    â€œI know that there were rumors of it in other countries,” I recalled. “And they had a meeting in Geneva to deal with it.”
    â€œRight, right,” Paul said. “And it was about that time that the old man pulled it from the lab. But he moved it. He told me where back then, and even gave me limited access, but I didn’t want to press him about it. My mother was sick and he was already starting to get a little crazy, cloistered up there in his dark domain. But I always wondered if he and his need-to-know goons went on with the peacer plans.”
    â€œSo did they?” I asked, the lump in my stomach becoming even more noticeable.
    â€œYes!” His head in his hands again. “Oh God, Michael, they did! And I am so sorry that I didn’t find out until now. Some friend I’ve turned out to be…” His shoulders shook from the sobs trying to escape. A light finally went on in my mind, and the knot behind my belt turned into a stabbing pain.
    â€œYou’re saying I have one of those things in my head?” I forced out, then tried to breathe. Paul looked up at me again.
    â€œThis morning, when we found out the murderer could have been someone D and your daughter both knew,” he looked down again, “and it could have been someone from BASS, I got the wild idea in my head. So when I told the old man about it, I asked him point-blank if Mind Lift had really died. He was more than evasive, man—he just stopped talking to me. I know him, Michael. That was when I knew.” He saw me shaking my head in disbelief, staring at a seat beside him, and continued.
    â€œHe’s lost it, man. Ever since my mother died, it’s gotten worse and worse. He has this sadistic streak, and the power has done something to him. Nobody sees him like I do, believe me, but I don’t even know him anymore. For some reason he saw D as a threat; I think maybe because D found out something about the project. He was asking me some questions related to it in the last few weeks—and now he’s dead.”
    â€œYou’re saying,” I gasped, my head still moving back and forth, “that your father … used me  … to kill D? He made me do this, with some wetware in my head?” Like most people who were successful or hoped to be successful, I had vowed long ago to stay free of any such implants, because it was assumed to be a safer route to avoiding potential risks to health and privacy. And now it seemed that all the suspicions and fears were being proven true.
    â€œForgive me, Michael, please.”
    â€œThis isn’t about you , Paul,” I snapped, then tried to change my tone when I saw how it stung him. “I have questions. You’ve got to help me with this.”
    â€œAbsolutely. We’re in this together,” he said, then asked me if I wanted a drink. “This’s got to be a hell of a nightmare—I can’t even imagine.” I declined the drink, then asked my first question.
    â€œHow did this thing get in my head?”
    â€œEarly on, after you came,” Paul answered. “I don’t know a lot of the details, but they put you out somehow, then erased the memory of it.”
    â€œThat’s possible?” I asked.
    â€œOh yeah. You’ve got to realize, Michael: between what’s on the hill and what we have in the Silicon Valley, BASS owns the most cutting-edge technology in the world. World leaders aren’t kissing the old man’s ass just for aerocar science, they’re into this neuro stuff, too. Min isn’t just a bodyguard, he’s a showpiece, a floor model of a personal computer, with a capital P. He’s got those two custom jackpatches behind his ear, which you can see, but he can also send and receive wireless from inside . What you see in your glasses, he sees without them. Neuro-optical retinal implants.”
    â€œSo if I have this in me, why