Flash 02: Career Changes

"What are you going to do about Ginger?" he asked, concerned.

"I don't know just yet," I said. "At first I thought she was having an affair and I was ready to divorce her on the spot. I still might divorce her. I don't know. Thing is, an affair implies consent. But there was no consent on her part. She was deliberately targeted by Bergstrom, set up by Wheeler, threatened, drugged, then used and abused by the whole board and others.

"She hated what they made her do. Hated herself, hated them. She contemplated suicide because of what they did. They even made her kill her baby, making her think she was saving my life by doing so. Then they tried to murder her. So you see, I have to make them pay.

"She did, however, manage to contact someone at the Securities and Exchange Commission, a Trisha Harding. Said she has information the government might find interesting. I found the files she saved on her personal cloud account. Maybe you can make sense of them," I said, handing him the flash drive.

"Have you looked at them?" he asked.

"I have. They're mostly spreadsheets. Don't ask me to explain them," I said. "I think she wanted to get them to you. Thought you'd do the right thing."

"Can we take a look at them?" he asked.

"Sure," I said, getting up and walking into my "office." I sat down and fired up my computer and inserted the flash drive he handed back to me. I pulled up one of the spreadsheets and let him take a look. To me, it was nothing but columns full of numbers. But it obviously meant something to him. His eyes grew wide as he scrolled down through the sheet.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked, shocked. I shook my head.

"It's all Greek to me, Jack," I said.

"This is a one-way ticket to the big house for every single member of the board," he said. "Right along with my wife and daughter."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"If what I'm seeing is correct, this indicates they've all been embezzling from the company and our clients for years. Little amounts that probably wouldn't be noticed right away. But over time, they would add up to a hefty sum of money. This Trisha Harding person -- do you know if Ginger got this to to her?"

"I believe so," I told him. "From what I could tell, Ginger had this information sent to her by courier. Harding has tried to contact Ginger multiple times after the accident."

"Well, I guess I'd better get in touch with this Trisha Harding, then," he said. "Have you told anyone else about this?"

"No. Like I said, Jack, none of this makes any sense to me. I'm a computer guy, not an accountant. You WILL do the right thing, won't you?" He looked at me, shocked that I would question his integrity. Normally, I wouldn't have to ask, but Jack was the only person whose mind I couldn't read, perhaps as a result of his encounter with the alien "beam." I started wondering how many more like Jack were out there...

"Of course, I will, Cameron," he said. "It's not just my company on the line here. If I'm reading this right, they intended to make it look as though I'm the one embezzling these funds."

"Then I suggest you contact this Trisha Harding right now and set up an appointment," I said. "You can use my phone if you want. Yours is probably bugged."

"You're probably right, Cameron," he said. "Do you have a number for her?"

"Actually, I do," I said. I got it from a burner phone Ginger had in her purse. It was the only number she called. I gave it to Jack and handed him my phone after unlocking it. He took my phone and dialed the number, then turned on the speaker.

"Harding," a woman's voice said when she answered it. "Mrs. Drake, is this you? Are you out of the hospital?"

"No, it's Jackson Peabody, her CEO," Jack said. "She's still in a coma."

"Mr. Peabody, how did you get this number? Mrs. Drake was the only one who had it."

"I got it from her husband," Jack said. "It's a long and complicated story. I understand you may have gotten some spreadsheets and reports from Mrs. Drake before her accident."

"Possibly," she said. "I've attempted to contact her several times, and learned of her very convenient accident."

"I'd like very much to speak with you about that accident and those spreadsheets. Can we meet today?" he asked.

"I'd like that very much," she said. "I can be available in, say, half an hour. My office. Federal Building, downtown, fifth floor. Just follow the signs."

"I'll be there, Ms. Harding," Jack said. "Thank you for your time."

"Thank you for calling, Mr. Peabody. I look forward to meeting you," she said before ending the call. I put the phone in my pocket.

"I suggest you get going," I told him.

"You're right, Cameron," he said. "If this pans out, I'll owe you more than I'll ever be able to repay."

"Come on, let me walk you to your car. I'll take care of your shadows," I said. We left the condo and I escorted him to his car and watched as he pulled out. I deliberately stood in front of the sedan, blocking their way. The driver honked his horn but I had him put the car in park as I walked to his window. He looked at me when I stepped next to him.

"What are you doing? Get out of the way," he demanded.

"There's nothing here for you to see," I said calmly. I saw his eyes change and he looked at his partner.

"Why are we here? There's nothing here for us to see," he said.

"In fact, you were never here," I added. "You know, Joe's Bar and Grill over on Fifth Street makes the best habanero burgers in town. Guaranteed to set your ass on fire. Why don't the two of you go over and have one or two?" He looked at his partner.

"You know, why don't we go over to Joe's Bar and Grill and grab a habanero burger?" he asked.

"Yeah, that sounds good," his partner said. "C'mon, let's go."

"Make sure you have them put on lots of Mad Dog 357 Plutonium No. 9," I said. The man behind the wheel nodded his head. I remembered reading a web site somewhere that said the stuff comes in at around 9 million Scoville Hotness Units, or SHUs.

By comparison, a Carolina Reaper, one of the hottest peppers on Earth, measures in at 1.5 million SHUs. But this stuff comes with a disclaimer saying it can cause serious injury if directly consumed or applied to the body. I didn't know if Joe's had any of that stuff available, but what the hell, I thought.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," the man said. "Thanks, buddy."

I stepped back and watched as they pulled out. I waved as they drove off, chuckling to myself at the thought of what the rest of their day would be like. Then I saw it -- a dark SUV parked across the street. A man wearing a fedora was watching me, taking pictures of me. Thomas Hammer, no doubt. I smiled, waved at him and walked back to my condo.

I shut down my computer, locked everything away and left, setting the alarm as I did so. I drove to the hospital to see Ginger. I wasn't surprised to see Hammer following me. Let him waste his time, I thought to myself. I'll take care of him later.

I sat next to Ginger's bed, holding her hand. I told her about my meeting with Jack and the phone call to Trisha.

"I swear to God, Ginger, I will make those fuckers pay for what they did to you," I said. I looked up and saw her head turned in my direction, her eyes open. Was she awake? I heard her mind for the first time in over three months.

"C... Cam?" she thought. "Save..."

"It's me, Ginger," I said, moving closer to her. "Stay with me. I'm right here." As I watched, she closed her eyes and a tear slid down her cheek. I searched her mind, but heard nothing. Tears fell down my face as I held her dainty hand. "Please, Ginger, come back to me," I cried. When I realized she wasn't going to respond, I went to the nurse's station and told them what just happened.

"Let me get Dr. Samuels," the nurse said. I went back to Ginger's room and waited for the doctor. He came in a few minutes later and looked her over as I told him what happened. Of course, I didn't tell him about hearing her thoughts.

"That's a very good sign, Mr. Drake," he said. "That means she's responding to our efforts. Keep talking to her. Maybe you can make some more recordings for her."

"But her eyes were wide open," I said.

"Yes, that's not uncommon," he said. "It could be that she recognized your voice from the recordings. I'll order some tests and we'll continue doing what we've been doing. Just keep talking to her. Give her some hope." I nodded my head as he walked out. I sat with her for a while longer, holding her hand as I talked to her. Then I had an idea.

"Ginger, I know what Bergstrom did to you. I know what they all did to you. I know... everything. I wished you had told me from the beginning, but I understand why you didn't. We still have some things to work out, but I want you to know that I love you and I will not give up on you. Wheeler is gone -- for good. And the rest will pay for what they did. Trust me on that. Just come back to me, please." I kissed her forehead and sat back. The nurses came in to wheel her away and I took that as my cue to leave.

I saw Hammer sitting in the hospital coffee shop on the first floor and walked in. After buying a caramel mocha, I went to his table and sat down. He looked at me, surprised.

"Hammer, isn't it?" I asked. "Thomas 'Sledge' Hammer?"

"What's it to ya?" he asked.

"Bergstrom hired you to follow me, didn't he?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said gruffly. "Let me drink my coffee in peace." I exercised my eye muscles the way Smith and Jones taught me, making my eyes flash red. At the same time, I made his brain swell just enough to give him a massive headache. He grabbed his head in pain and his face twisted into a grimace.

"Don't lie to me, Hammer," I said calmly. "You don't do it very well. And don't even think of pulling your gun," I added, reading his thoughts. "Not unless you intend to eat a bullet right here in the hospital. You do know this is supposed to be a gun-free zone, right?" I eased up the pressure on his brain and he looked at me, surprised.

"What are you?" he asked.

"A pissed off husband," I said. "And I'm not in the mood to fuck around. I'm only going to say this once, so you'd better pay attention. I have no beef with you -- yet. But if you fuck with me, I swear to God it'll be the last thing you ever do."

"Is that a threat?" he asked.

"It's a fucking promise," I said, focusing my energy on his brain again. He grimaced in pain as his brain swelled up in his head. "Back off. You have no idea what you're fucking with. Deal?" I extended my hand. He nodded his head and I eased up the pressure on his brain. He reached out and shook my hand, flinching when he felt the slight electric shock. I held his hand for a few seconds until I had his memories in my mind, then let go.

"Tell Bergstrom you have to leave town for another case. There's some serious shit about to go down and you don't even want to be around. Understand?" He nodded his head.

"I got it," he said.

"Good. And trust me, I'll know if you double-cross me. Don't ask how. Just accept that I'll know." He nodded his head again and I walked away. I sat in my car in the parking lot and watched the door to the hospital. He came out a few minutes later and went to his SUV. I connected to his mind remotely to see what he would do.

He pulled out his phone and called Bergstrom. I heard Bergstrom's voice as though I was holding the phone.

"Anything to report?" Bergstrom asked.

"No, Mr. Bergstrom, nothing," Hammer said. "I think your Mr. Drake is just a pissed-off husband trying to deal with what happened to his wife. Basically, he's a Boy Scout. Listen, I have to head back east for another case. I'm not going to be available for a while."

"Alright," Bergstrom said. "Send me your bill, I'll take care of it."

"Thank you, Mr. Bergstrom," Hammer said, ending the call. "I gotta get the fuck outta here," Hammer thought to himself. "I need a vacation. Too many wackos around here. Maybe Atlantic City. Yeah, that's the ticket." I couldn't help but smile. I started the car and went home, stopping only to grab something for dinner. Later that afternoon, I got a call from a number I didn't recognize.

"Hello," I said, answering the call.

"Cameron, it's Jack. I just wanted to let you know I had a long discussion with Trisha Harding. She suggested I get a burner phone and that's what I'm using now. Only you and her have the number," he said.

"What did she say?" I asked.

"They've been looking at Bergstrom and his gang for a while now," Jack said. "The spreadsheets and reports Ginger had are very damaging. They've got the FBI involved and a few others."

"Well, I guess that means it'll only get pigeon-holed," I said wryly.

"I don't think so," Jack said. "I believe they intend to make some arrests pretty soon, from what Trisha said."

"Yeah, and they'll probably spend a whole ten seconds behind bars before their lawyers bail them out," I said.

"We'll see," Jack said.

"Yeah, we'll see alright," I said, not convinced anything would ever come of it.

"Listen, I'd better go, but I'll be in touch," he said. "I owe you big time for this."

"It's not over yet," I said. "Watch your back."

"I will," he said. "Talk to you later, Cameron." We ended the call and I downloaded Hammer's memories to my computer. They had just finished processing when Smith and Jones came by for their weekly session. After they finished my workout, we sat in the front room.

"You are progressing rather nicely, Cameron," Smith said.

"I must agree," Jones said. "We were concerned that your enhanced abilities might cause you to lose your humanity, so to speak."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Your brain is functioning at levels far above what was originally intended. It is very possible you could lose your empathy for un-enhanced beings and start to see them as beneath your concern or as objects to be used to further your own agenda," Smith said. "Your species has a saying that 'power corrupts' and you are becoming extremely powerful.

"So far you have avoided becoming what you hate -- the evil one who used his power to corrupt your mate. You have not used your new abilities to corrupt anyone. You still seem to operate under a moral code which is very similar to our own, and similar to those your species says it aspires to. It is possible that your mate's condition and the good beings you have run into along the way are giving you hope, keeping you in synch with your higher motives."

"Well, thank you for that," I said. "I have a couple questions for you guys before you go."

"Oh?" Smith asked.

"Yes," I said. "First, I was curious to know if you've ever hit anyone else with that beam of yours." They looked at each other for a few seconds, then addressed my question.

"Yes, twice," Jones said. "The first was about eight of your years ago. The second a couple years after that. Neither subject held their abilities for very long. The first subject is still alive and doing well. In fact, you've already met him -- Jack Peabody."

"The second subject didn't fare as well," Smith said. "He went crazy. Thought he was some kind of 'superman' and stood in front of a speeding train. Needless to say, he didn't survive the encounter."

"And other than me, you haven't used this thing on anyone else?" I asked.

"No, we have not," Jones said. "We have been given strict orders to dismantle the unit and never use it or anything like it ever again."

"And we have been ordered to see you through your full transition," Smith said.

"You mean, this thing isn't finished with me yet?" I asked.

"No," Smith said. "You could see changes for years to come."

"Terrific," I said sarcastically.

"I detect a hint of sarcasm in your response," Jones said.

"No shit, Sherlock," I said. "So, what else can I look forward to? Or can you not tell me?"

"We cannot say for certain because your DNA is still somewhat in flux," Smith said.

"I just want my life back," I said. "Is that ever going to happen?"

"I'm afraid not," Jones said. "Perhaps it's time you consider a career change."

"What do you mean?"

"There are many like you on this planet who simply seek justice. To have wrongs set right. You have the capacity to make that happen," Smith said. "You just need to learn to control your abilities better and cope with new abilities as they appear. We will see you through that transition, however long it takes. That is our mission now."

"What about my wife? Is there something I can do to help her? Surely with all these abilities, I can do something."

"Other than what the doctor has already told you, no. Not at this time," Jones said. "You aren't at that stage... yet. But that wasn't the question you wanted to ask, was it?"

"No," I said. "Tell me, is it possible to edit a person's memories? So they don't remember certain things? Or remember them differently?"

"It is theoretically possible, but has never been successfully attempted," Smith said. "Not even our scientists have been able to do that. There are too many... variables involved. However, the fact that you thought enough to ask is significant."

"Why is that?" I asked.

"Because it shows forward thinking on your part," Jones said.

"I'm an IT guy. That's part of what we do," I said.

"Well, 'eye-tee guy,' keep thinking. But for now, focus only on what we tell you. Practice. Do your work-outs and your homework. Keep your eyes on the job ahead of you," Smith said.

"Yes," Jones said. "There are twelve individuals who need to feel the righteous hand of justice. Are you up to it?"

"I'm up to it," I said.

"Good," Smith said. He turned to Jones. "I think we have covered enough ground for one evening."

"Yes, I agree," Jones said. "Do your homework, Cameron. We'll be back." I nodded my head as they walked out the door. Do my homework. Yeah, right. I was a bit tired of reading and digging through other people's memories, so I grabbed a beer and sat down in front of the television. I hadn't even finished the beer before my doorbell rang again. Looking through the peephole, I saw my friend Bill Collins.

He held up a six-pack of beer when I opened the door. I motioned for him to come inside and put the beer in the refrigerator, and grabbed a couple since they already felt cold. I handed one to him and sat down, opening the other.

"So, what brings you by?" I asked.

"Just wanted to drop by and see how you're doing," he said. "Any word on Ginger?" He listened quietly as I brought him up to date on what I knew so far.

"Damn," he said when I finished.

"So, you still think she needs to die?" I asked sarcastically. He shook his head.

"No," he said. "But the fuckers who did this to her do." I nodded my head in agreement.

"No argument there," I said.

"Have you decided what you're gonna do?" he asked after taking a healthy swig of beer.

"Yeah," I said. "I have."

"And..."

"I'm going to take things one day at a time. First, I'm going to see her through this coma. When she's back on her feet, we'll deal with it. Right now, I'm inclined to stay with her," I said. Bill nodded his head.

"You still love her, don't you?" he asked.

"Yeah, I do," I said. "You know, if I had gone with my original gut feeling, I would've kicked her ass to the curb without a second's thought. Things are different, now that I know the whole truth."

"You still hearing other people's thoughts?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said quietly. "And then some."

"So, what am I thinking right now?" he asked.

"You're thinking I'm a pussy-whipped romantic fool," I said with a smile. He laughed at that.

"Yeah," he said. "That's exactly what I was thinking. But if what you're telling me is the whole truth, I can understand why you'd stick with her. I just don't understand why they targeted her like that."