Ward had the dull gaze of a man who'd had too much to drink, and the body seemed to have softer edges than he remembered. How many Scotches had he consumed the night before? As best he could recall he'd had no more than two drinks. He didn't remember feeling tipsy, nor did he have any memory of going to bed in his clothes.
Up until a year ago, Ward had been in pretty good physical condition. He had done daily laps in their pool year- round, and he and Natasha rode their bikes several miles through the countryside. While his biceps were still solid enough and his leg muscles well defined, Ward was going to seed, and he resolved to start riding his bike again.
In the kitchen, Ward looked at Todd's business card. The address was the Bank of America Tower, pretty expensive real estate. The card contained a landline, a fax number, and a cellular line. Ward slipped it into his wallet next to a picture of Barney and Natasha.
Ward looked out at the covered swimming pool and felt a rush of sadness. The fading blue cover had remained in place since just after the accident. A year before, he and Barney had been swimming in the pool when the phone rang. Ward had been expecting a call. His uncle had business to discuss. Ward left Barney alone for a minute. He rushed into the kitchen and grabbed the phone before voice mail picked up. As he spoke with his uncle, the lights blinked for a split second. A flicker. A damaged spot in the insulation on a wire connecting the pool's pump and the lights had become saturated by the sprinkler system, and when the barefoot and wet child got out of the pool he stepped on a hot spot and was electrocuted, his heart stopping forever. When Barney fell, he broke the connection. Had that not been the case, Ward would have also been electrocuted when he'd knelt and grabbed his son up into his arms. The child had a gash in his head from the fall, which never bled because his heart had stopped.
When Ward turned, his eyes found the defib-rillator case on the refrigerator. He'd bought the apparatus after Barney's death. Maybe if he'd had it then, he could have brought his son back. Its presence was a perfect example of closing the barn door after the horses were running free in the meadow.
Ward wiped a tear from his eye. He unplugged his cell phone from the charger, slipped it into his pocket, and took his keys and briefcase before leaving the house. The BMW's big eight-cylinder purred, and as he pressed down on the accelerator, he could hear the tires against the asphalt humming as he gained speed. He tuned in to that sound and tuned everything else out.
When his cell phone rang a few minutes into the trip, Ward glanced at the name and saw that his uncle was calling.
“Yes, Unk,” he answered.
“Ward, where the hell are you?” Mark yelled into the phone. “I've been calling you for an hour.”
“I overslept. I'm leaving the house. What's up?”
“We've got big trouble here.”
“As in?”
“Computer virus. It's a disaster.”
“Give me fifteen minutes.”
TWENTY-THREE
Natasha closed the door to her office and sat heavily in her chair. She picked up the phone with steady hands and called Dr. Edmonds's receptionist to make an appointment on that Friday for a consultation. Normally it would have taken weeks to get in to see the specialist, but with physician's credentials, exceptions were ordinary She hung up the phone and turned to her computer to check her e-mails.
There was a light rapping on her door and she turned around to see Dr. Walls. “Natasha, could I have a word?”
“Sure, George,” she said with a smile. “Come in.”
“I want to discuss your tremors.”
“I just made an appointment with Dr. Edmonds. It really isn't a big deal. In fact it's getting better, but I wanted to be sure.”
“I've spoken with the partners, and we agree that you should let us cover your surgeries until you've seen Dr. Edmonds. Before you protest, let me say that we know you are under a lot of pressure, and we're sure you'll be good as new in short order. I hope you don't see this as meddling, but I think you'll agree that there's a lot at stake here for all of us. You are an exceptional physician, and we all care a great deal about you.” He tapped his hands on her desk to punctuate his last point, and to give it finality.
“I understand fully,” she heard herself saying, “and I appreciate your concern.” She felt assailed professionally, but she knew she had no business operating in her present condition. She wanted to know what was wrong with her.
“We'll just take the precaution and cover your surgeries until then,” George said, smiling. “And if you'd like to take a few days, we will gladly cover your other appointments.”
“Of course,” she said. “And thank you. But covering my nonsurgical appointments won't be necessary.”
“If your hands were to shake while you were seeing a patient…” He paused. “Well, word might get around. I think it is for the best. Just get some well- deserved rest and don't worry about anything.”
George left the room and Natasha felt embarrassed and even, to some degree, grateful. She looked at her hands and they began to tremble ever so slightly.
Opening her laptop, she went into her e-mail and ran down the list of waiting correspondence. One was from Ward, titled “You have to see this.” She clicked on it and sat stunned as the screen began filling with a changing montage of horrible images she couldn't believe she was seeing.
“Oh, my dear god,” she said. Her heart pounded and she slammed her eyes closed, fighting to control her breathing. “My god. He's completely lost his mind.”
TWENTY-FOUR
Ward rushed into the RGI building. As he passed by the receptionist, he saw that her phone lines were all lit up, and he could hear a loud angry voice leaking from her headset.
“Mr. McCarty” she said, covering the mouthpiece. “Mr. Wilson is waiting for you up in the conference room.”
Ward took the steps three at a time, rushed to the door, and entered the crowded conference room. His uncle was talking to their head computer technician, Paul Wolfe. A pair of Wolfe's assistants were staring at the screens of laptops open on the table. Over the men's shoulders Ward saw pop- ups opening and stacking in rapid sequence on the screen, each flying up and covering the last in the space of a second or two. It took Ward a minute to realize what he was looking at, but by that point he already felt ill. Naked bodies flashed rapidly, one after the other.
“What's this? What the hell's going on?” he demanded.
“Kiddie porn,” Mark said.
“Somebody had that on one of our computers?” Ward asked, furious at the thought. “Who?”
“We don't know, but our servers are inundated with pictures of kids engaged in sex acts with other kids, kids with adults. Jesus, there's even animals in the mix.”
Paul Wolfe said, “Ward, this crap went out from our server. That's all I can tell at the moment. Viruses are sort of out of my line of expertise, but it's a replicating virus. We're offline and trying to figure out how to shut it down. I've got some calls in for help.”
“Jesus Christ,” Ward said. “What do you mean replicating? What the hell does that mean?”
“It makes copies of itself.”
“I know what replicating means!” Ward snapped.
“I'm sorry. It gets sent in and sends itself back out to the e-mail addresses in the infected computer,” Wolfe said, red- faced.
