透支 英文名著｜第7章

I swallowed hard. “Apparently, a big pile of crappola.”

Elvis put his hand on mine and squeezed. “Keep it loose. We’ll piece it together.”

I decided hyperventilating would not help in this situation. Elvis was right. We had to piece this together to make sense of it. I took a couple more breaths to calm down. After a minute, I felt better.

Elvis cocked his head, watching my face. “You good?”

“I’m good. Let’s lay it out.”

“Okay.”

I leaned my elbows on the table. “So, we know Nickelward was the lead scientist at Hot Chips on the development and production of an RFID microchip to be used in U.S. currency.”

“Yes.”

“And now we know he disappeared five days ago from Baltimore and showed up here in Ocean City at some point.”

“Where he met you.”

“By sheer accident. So, three days after his disappearance, Hot Chips notices the true prototype is missing.”

“Stolen.”

“And replaced by a fake. They think Dr. Nickelward took the original to sell to counterfeiters.”

“Seems logical, given he is missing as well.”

I pushed the hair back from my shoulders. “It would also explain his nervous-bordering-on-psycho behavior as well as his rambled explanation of having to take unusual steps to fund the research of his heart.”

“But?”

I glanced at Elvis in surprise. “But what?”

“But...there’s something else. You’re thinking it. Just say it.”

I pressed my hand to my forehead. “Okay. Here it is. I’m not convinced he’s a bad guy. An idiot, perhaps, to think he could get away with this. But he seemed genuinely interested in helping the human race, not sending us all into economic ruin by aiding counterfeiters.”

“What was his research baby again?”

“An implantable RFID chip for detecting and possibly curing disease in humans.”

“Prime.”

“Yes.” I leaned back in the chair, stretching my legs out in front of me. “Unfortunately, his passion got in the way of rational thought.”

“So, you’re thinking he had a change of heart?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you psychic?”

“Just good at deduction.”

I sighed. “No kidding. Yes, I think he had a change of heart. At the last minute, he decides not to pass on the actual microchip to the counterfeiters.”

“Interesting. So then what? He passes off a counterfeit chip to the counterfeiters? It would be poetic justice of sorts.”

“That’s what I think. Then the counterfeiters find out. But what’s with the fake money in the pouch, if that’s what it was?”

Elvis stared off into space for a moment. “Maybe he printed it for them. Showed them how and where to insert the chip into the bill.”

“How could he print it? You think they have some kind of special printing assembly line here in Ocean City?”

Elvis laughed. “Lexi, the only factory counterfeiters need these days is a decent computer and a hi-resolution printer. The hard part would be getting the right kind of paper, the chip, and embedding the chip into the bill in the correct way. Nickelward would have helped with that, I suppose.”

My cheeks heated. “Right. Note to self...read up on current counterfeiting measures.”

His grin widened. “Be careful with that. Never know who’s watching. However, we’re missing a critical part of the puzzle.”

“Which is?”

“How do you fit into this?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m a totally random variable.”

“Yet a variable just the same. We can hypothesize that your first meeting happened by chance. After that, we must keep into play that Nickelward rendezvoused with you because he wanted to.”

“But why?”

“He told you he had no one else.”

“True, but he was scared. Maybe he just wanted someone to talk to.”

“Perhaps. I think he was testing you. Seeing if you’d be a good person to keep the microchip safe for him.”

“Me? Seriously, that’s a leap in logic. It’s totally risky, not to mention a bit creepy, given the fact that he didn’t even know me. But it would fit with the Secret Service’s heightened interest in whether he’d given me anything to keep safe for him.”

Elvis fell silent for a moment. “Okay. I’m thinking back to when you opened the pouch. I didn’t see anything resembling a microchip, but it would have been microscopic so I might have missed it.”

“I sincerely doubt he’d dump it in the pouch with no protective covering.”

“Agreed, but let’s look anyway.”

“Hasn’t housekeeping vacuumed?”

“Not yet.”

We both got down on our hands and knees and crawled around the carpet, feeling around. Basia and Xavier walked in from the balcony.

“Dude. Dudette. What are you doing?”

Elvis looked up at his brother. “Looking for a microchip.”

“So that’s what it’s called these days. Well, Basia and I are going to get something to eat.”

My stomach growled. “Bring something back, will you? Make it quick and be careful. You don’t know who will be watching.”

“Will do.”

The two of them walked out and Elvis and I searched around for a while longer. I finally sat up, resting my back against the couch.

“Nothing.”

“He could have hidden it inside the pouch somewhere, a hidden pocket perhaps. I didn’t look for one.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “I don’t think so. My guess is that is the first place the Secret Service would have looked.”

“Well, theoretically, it’s possible it could still be here on the floor. Microscopic is easy to miss. How about I go borrow a vacuum and we suck everything up and sift through it with a hi-tech magnet?”

I looked at him hopefully. “You’ve got a magnet here?”

“Always carry one with me.”

“Holy cow. You’re amazing.”

Elvis left to borrow a vacuum from housekeeping and I pushed back the furniture in the area where I had opened the pouch. He came back a few minutes later with one of those round industrial-type vacuums with a long hose.

“Let me jury-rig it first.” He removed the original vacuum bag and replaced it with a plastic trash bag, securing it at the neck with a couple of rubber bands. “Won’t last for long, but we only need to sweep this one area.”

I took the hose and he turned the vacuum on. The vacuum was brand new and the hose jumped and wriggled in my hand like a snake on drugs.

“Jeez,” I shouted over the roar. “This thing is crazy strong.”

“Start here.” Elvis shouted at me over the din, bending down and pointing at a spot on the carpet.

I swept the hose back and forth, using all my strength to control it. The vacuum shook and rattled until my teeth chattered. After several sweeps, I glanced up at Elvis.

“Good enough?” I yelled.

I hadn’t realized he stood almost on top of me, and the hose leaped from my hand and took a big suck of the loose strings on his cutoff jean shorts.

“Hey!” He danced away from me, but the hose stuck like glue and began to suck its way right up to his groin.

“Aaaaagh!” He shouted and gripped the hose with both hands, trying to stop it where it was.

Horrified, I fumbled for the on/off switch, but in my haste knocked the vacuum over. It rolled a few steps but kept right on sucking.

Elvis screamed again, and this time I threw myself on top of the vacuum, clawing desperately for the switch. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Elvis leaping around the room like a wild man, holding on to the hose and trying with all his might to pry it off his crotch.

At last my fingers found the switch and the vacuum shut off with a horrible screech and whine. Mortified, I looked over my shoulder. Elvis had divested himself of his shorts and stood in his bright white undies, holding the hose in his hand. His face had turned beet red and he stared in shocked fascination at his shorts, which were hanging halfway out of the hose.

I put my hand over my mouth and stared at him, completely speechless.

At that exact moment, Xavier and Basia walked in. Xavier’s mouth dropped open and Basia gasped.

Xavier said, “Dude. We can come back later if you want.”

Finally getting control of my senses, I ran over to Elvis. “Are you all right?”

“What. Happened. Here?” Basia looked between the vacuum, Elvis and me. “Is this a kinky geek thing?”

“Basia!” I yelled.

She looked slightly chastised. “Well, inquiring minds want to know.”

“If you must know, the vacuum attacked him. Elvis, are you okay?”

He didn’t answer, and he didn’t look okay. In fact, he looked seriously shaken. I took him by the elbow and made him sit on the couch.

“Can I get you something? Some water? A bandage? A new pair of pants?”

He abruptly stood. “No. I’m okay. Really. I’ll be back in a minute.” He walked kind of funny back to the room and closed the door. Xavier and Basia looked at me.

I lifted my hands. “What? Evil vacuum.”

“Sure, if you say so.” Xavier held up a bag. “Anyway, we brought back lunch or an early dinner. Chinese food. Hope you like it.”

“Right now, I’d eat the cardboard box it comes in. I’m starving.”

I went to use the facilities and wash my hands in Xavier’s bathroom. When I came out Elvis was already sitting at the table on the balcony with the rest of the gang in a pair of soft sweatpants. He seemed marginally better.

I sat next to him and took a big gulp of water. “I am so freaking sorry. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m okay. Look, it’s not your fault. I stood too close to the hose. It was an accident waiting to happen.”

“It did happen.”

“As was mathematically predicted.”

Basia spooned some rice on her paper plate. “Really, Lexi. If you want to see Elvis without his pants, just ask him.”

I spewed the water.

Xavier patted me on the back and then took the carton of rice from Basia. “So, you two really were looking for a microchip?”

I wiped my mouth with a napkin. “What did you think we were doing? And we weren’t looking for just any microchip, but the microchip.”

Basia reached for the beef and broccoli. “What microchip are we talking about?”

“The prototype of an RFID microchip to be embedded in U.S. currency. Nickelward stole it.”

Basia paused, the fork hovering near her mouth. “He did what?”

I brought them up to date on what Elvis and I had discovered.

Xavier whistled. “So, the dude takes off with the microchip, helps the counterfeiters print fake money with a fake copy of the prototype, spills his guts to Lexi and then splits?”

Elvis nodded. “Lexi thinks he may have double-crossed the counterfeiters.”

“But why?” Basia set her fork down. “That’s nuts.”

I stabbed a piece of broccoli with my fork. “I’m only speculating, but I think he wanted the money to finish his project, but didn’t ever intend to actually sell out the U.S. government.”

Basia narrowed her eyes at me. “And you came to this conclusion how?”

I shrugged. “Intuition. Geek to geek. A gut feeling. He just didn’t seem like the devious type.”

“Given your people skills, that’s not reassuring.”

Elvis ate a piece of beef. “Doesn’t really matter. One way or the other, they’re on to him now. Hot Chips, the Secret Service and the counterfeiters. Everyone wants the prototype microchip.”

I shoveled in some more food while Xavier retrieved four beers, popping the tops for us and handing them out. “You think it might be in that vacuum bag?”

Elvis took a swig of his beer. “Not really. But the possibility has to be eliminated.”

Basia opened a packet of soy sauce and sprinkled it on her rice. “Why can’t they just make a new prototype of this chip? What’s the big deal?”

We all stared at her for a long moment.

She lifted her hand. “What?”

I sighed. “You can’t just remake a specialized microchip like that. It would have to be reconfigured, rebuilt and reorganized. It would cost millions of dollars, not to mention time. More importantly, the technique by which the chip is inserted into the bills, the manufacturing process, the entire scientific method would be compromised.”

Elvis leaned back in his chair. “In fact, it may already be too late if you’re wrong about Nickelward, Lexi. It depends on what he’s already shown and told them.”

“Yes, I suppose it does.”

Basia waved a hand. “Okay, despite the fact that I’m in the company of persons with IQs in the rarified stratosphere, I do believe you are all overlooking something important.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Which is?”

“Which is, your involvement in this is over, Lexi. Finished. Finito. Done. He didn’t give you anything, tell you anything, or set up a rendezvous to pass you anything. The Secret Service has the pouch with the money, fake or real, and your duty as a kind person listening to the problems of a delusional scientist is officially over. Capish?”

Elvis glanced at me. “She does have a point.”

I sighed. “True. If we don’t find the microchip in the vacuum bag, I guess I can consider this whole mess no longer my problem. I just hope the Secret Service and whoever tossed our hotel room agrees.”

“Let’s look now,” Basia suggested. “The anticipation is killing me.”

We all pushed back from the table and Elvis took apart the vacuum, carefully unfastening the bag. Xavier cleared off the glass top of the coffee table while Elvis retrieved the magnet.

I shook out the bag on the table. Elvis carefully examined the bag first, making sure we hadn’t left it stuck to the plastic. When he determined it clear, we all kneeled around the table, peering at the pile of dust and hair.

Basia leaned forward, putting her hand on Xavier’s shoulder. I couldn’t help but notice the smile that crept across his face. “Won’t a magnet erase or ruin a microchip?” she asked him.

Xavier shook his head. “Microchips are not magnetically encoded. If he finds it, it’ll be fine.”

I held my breath while Elvis methodically searched the debris. After a couple of minutes, he set the magnet down. “It’s not here.”

I leaned back against the couch half disappointed and half relieved. “Well, that’s that then.”

Basia patted me on the arm. “Don’t look so glum, Lexi. All this means is that your part in this counterfeiting disaster is over. We can finally enjoy our vacation now. Hooray!”

At that moment, a knock sounded on the door. Startled, we all looked at each other. The knock sounded again.

“Open up. It’s Agent Simmons from the U.S. Secret Service. I need to talk to Lexi Carmichael again.”