Chapter 6   The Note

I stood on the chair and covered the tiny red light with a strip of black tape I had pulled from the desk drawer.

The blinking stopped. I stepped down and checked every corner of the guest suite again. Windows first. Then the vents. The smoke detector that was not a smoke detector. The desk lamp. The underside of the bed frame. No other lights. No other lenses I could see. I sat at the desk, opened a notebook, and started writing.

Every restriction. No unmonitored calls. No leaving the floor without clearance. Medical checks twice a day. Meals logged. David’s contact limited and listened to. The camera I had just covered. I wrote the list twice to make sure nothing was missing. My hand cramped. I kept going anyway. Page after page of rules that were never mine to choose. I added the times the nurses came. The exact wording Kane had used when he told me the observation on David would continue. The way the security men never answered when I asked how long the watch would last.

A knock came at the door.

“It’s Elizabeth,” the voice said. “Routine check.”

I unlocked it. Elizabeth stepped in with her usual bag and a calm face that never gave much away.

“Blood pressure first,” she said.

I sat. She wrapped the cuff and pumped.

“One-eighteen over seventy-six. Normal.”

“How much of this goes straight to Kane?”

“All of it.”

“Including what I say in this room?”

“Yes. Everything is logged.”

She took the cuff off and reached for the thermometer. While she waited for the reading she slipped a folded piece of paper under the edge of my notebook. Her eyes never left the thermometer.

“Temperature is fine,” she said. “Any spotting? Headaches? Trouble sleeping?”

“No spotting. Headaches sometimes. Sleep is broken.”

“That’s common at this stage. Next scan is tomorrow morning. Be ready at eight.”

“Elizabeth.”

She looked at me.

“Is there any way to keep some of this private?”

“Not while the contract stands. I’m sorry.”

She packed her bag slowly. “Drink more water. The notes on your chart show mild dehydration.”

“I’ll try.”

“Any other symptoms I should know about before I leave?”

“Just the usual. Tired. Restless. The feeling that every wall has ears.”

Elizabeth’s hands paused on the zipper of her bag. “I can only treat what the chart allows me to treat.”

“I know.”

“Be ready at eight. Don’t skip the scan.”

“I won’t.”

She left. The door clicked shut. I waited ten full seconds. Then twenty. I opened the note.

A phone number. Nothing else. No name. No message.

I stared at it. The handwriting was small and careful. I folded it small and pushed it into my sock. Then I checked the sock again to make sure it sat flat.

Night came. The suite stayed quiet. I waited until the hallway lights dimmed and the security shift changed. I counted the footsteps. Two men going off. Two new ones coming on. One of the night nurses had left a spare phone on the counter in the medical wing earlier. I had watched her set it down, check a chart, and walk away to another room. I walked out like I was heading for water. The phone was still there. I took it and came back to the suite without anyone stopping me.

I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the screen. My hands were steady but my breathing was not. I dialed the number from the note first. It rang four times and went to a recording that only said the number was not available. I hung up and tried again. Same recording. I tried a third time. Nothing. I put the note back in my sock and tried a different approach.

I dialed a number I still knew by heart from the old company days.

A man answered on the fourth ring. “Who is this?”

“Jennifer Cole. You used to work for my father.”

Silence stretched. Then, “I remember. How did you get this number?”

“Doesn’t matter. I need to talk about the takeover.”

“That was years ago. I left all of that behind.”

“I found memos that say it was helped from the inside. I need to know what you saw.”

Another pause. Longer this time. “Where are you calling from?”

“Somewhere I can’t stay long. Can we meet?”

“This is a bad idea, Jennifer.”

“I’m already in a bad idea. Will you meet or not?”

He exhaled into the phone. “There’s a diner on the industrial side. Open all night. You know the one near the old loading docks?”

“I know it.”

“One hour. Come alone. If I see anyone else I walk.”

“I’ll be there.”

“You’re sure about this?”

“I don’t have many other options left.”

“People got hurt last time anyone dug into those files.”

“I know. I’m still asking.”

“Your father tried to keep things clean. It didn’t save him.”

“I’m not asking you to save me. I’m asking what you saw.”

“And if I tell you, what then?”

“Then I know who to watch.”

He was quiet for a second. “One hour. Diner. Alone. If you’re being followed I disappear and this number goes dead.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“You sound like you’re already in deeper than you planned.”

“I am.”

“All right. One hour. Don’t be late.”

I hung up. The borrowed phone felt heavy. I put on the only plain jacket I had and walked to the elevator. The night guard looked up.