“But I can’t help but thinking that you’re digging a grave for yourself, Ray,” she told him. “If you’re innocent, that will come out in the investigation. You’re just making it all look worse by running.”
“If?” he asked. “Brenda, I am innocent.”
“Of course you are,” she quickly amended, not looking at him.
He turned back to the screen and started another search. “You know, it’s funny. Whenever someone is accused of something, people right away assume that there must be a grain of truth to it.”
“It’s not like that, Ray,” she said.
“The hell it’s not,” he said, turning back to her after he had clicked in another search. “Look, Brenda, are you my friend? Are you in this with me or not?”
Brenda was silent for a moment. She looked at him, then back toward the lab doors. “I suppose I’m with you, Ray,” she said quietly.
“It’s just that the virus is so advanced, and it came from here, and you really know about viruses, Ray,” she said to her hands.
“Yeah, I know it looks bad.”
“They say you’re on record for having released a virus before, Ray.”
“It was a stupid prank.”
“They found files at your house, Ray,” she told him.
He glanced at her, opened his mouth, then shut it again. He nodded to himself. “That’s it,” he said. “That must be why they took him. Justin must have seen them planting that stuff.”
“Ray?”
“What?”
“They say other things, too. Terrible things, Ray. About what you might have done with Justin. About why you are running and searching for him so frantically.”
Ray looked at her. She looked small and scared and it all made him feel sick. He didn’t say anything because he couldn’t.
Brenda stood up. “You won’t give yourself up, will you?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“I’ve got to go to the restroom again, Ray,” she said.
Four thousand search results. Still way too many. Ray nodded his head to her and started another search. While the search engine was working on it, he quickly dialed Mrs. Trumble’s number. He glanced back at the lab doors, but Brenda was still gone. When a sleepy Mrs. Trumble answered, he told her to write down Santa, Snowflake and the word ‘handles’ on a note for his wife. She began to tell him about her day, but he quickly begged off. When he hung up on her, she was still talking about something. He felt a bit bad about it, but he couldn’t chance anymore time on the line. After he hung up, he dialed 4–1 — 1 and immediately hung up again. That way, if someone tried the redial later, they would get nothing useful. He knew he was being paranoid, but figured that it couldn’t hurt.
Sometime later the lab doors opened again. Ray heard a different set of footsteps approaching. His stomach dropped away into a vast void that had opened up at his feet. Brenda had betrayed him. He should have expected it, but he hadn’t, not from her. He turned, fully expecting to see Agents Vasquez and Johansen, guns drawn.
Instead, he saw Dr. Ingles. He had his cigarette in his left hand and his right was stuck in the pocket of his jacket, where doubtlessly it tightly clutched his lighter.
“Ingles?”
“Hello, Ray,” said the other. He approached and seemed completely at ease in the presence of a federal fugitive.
“What do you want?”
“Ray, I’m here to help Brenda talk you into giving yourself up,” said Ingles. He fondled his cigarette thoughtfully, and for once Brenda didn’t seem to care. Her eyes were careworn and they were focused solely on him.
Ray cocked his head and sat back from the terminal suddenly. Ingles jumped, just a bit. Seeing that there was no threat in the move, he covered by putting his elbow on the high counter at the lab aide’s station.
“Did you call my colleague for help, Brenda?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “He was here tonight. Before you even came. He seemed to know you were coming here tonight.”
Ray nodded. “You make a habit of knowing my habits, Ingles.”
“It’s part of my personal philosophy to try and predict the behavior of others, Ray. Of course, I’m wrong as often as right, but it always seems to be the cases when I guess correctly that people recall most vividly.”
“Yes, you do seem to have a knack for it,” said Ray. On a hunch, Ray typed a new search command into the system. He hit the enter key and a thousand packets of electronic data flashed all around the country and the world. Some of them went all the way to England and came back, all in the space of thirty seconds or so.
While the machine was still working, Ray turned back to the two of them. They had stepped closer now. Ingles had pulled the lighter out of his pocket, except that it wasn’t a lighter after all.
It was a pistol with a slim black barrel. He held it nonchalantly, the way he usually held a cigarette. It wasn’t aimed directly at Ray, but it wasn’t aimed away from him, either.
Ray nodded coolly. “I see.”
“Yes, well, I thought I should make a citizen’s arrest for the good of society, don’t you know?” said Ingles.
“I understand,” said Ray. He glanced back at the computer screen and nodded again at the results. “You knew I would be here tonight.”
Ingles shrugged. “It was only a hunch.”
“Yes, like the hunch that the FBI would think I released the virus. What did you say? ‘Don’t leave anything out that would look bad later?’ Good advice, as it turned out, but not good enough to clear me. Not by a long shot.”
“I only wish I could have done more,” said Ingles. He smiled, and Ray noted that his teeth were indeed stained yellow by tobacco.
“I’m calling the police,” said Brenda.
Ingles waved her away from the phone with an unlit cigarette. “There’s time enough for that,” he said. “I want to hear what Ray is getting at.”
“‘Remember that ugliness, like beauty, is also in the eyes of the beholder.’” quoted Ray.
Ingles smiled. For the first time, Ray thought to see a glint of the wolf in his intelligent eyes.
“That’s Frost, I believe,” said Ingles.
“Frost?”
“Robert Frost.”
“Ah yes, of course. And what’s your handle, Ingles? I mean on the local campus net?”
“Frosty, they call me,” he said. As he spoke he tapped at his cigarette and lit it. Blue smoke wafted into the lab. Brenda seemed too overwrought to argue about it.
“Because you like Frost?”
“I’ve been known to quote him, from time to time,” replied Ingles evenly. “But there’s nothing unusual about that, after all, I am an English Professor.”
“Of course,” said Ray. “Come over here and look at this you two.”
“I think you’ve had enough chatting, Ray.”
Ray waved them forward to look at the screen. Brenda glanced at him, then Ingles, then the gun. She stepped forward and looked at the screen. Ray had pulled up the quote, which was indeed by Robert Frost.
“Don’t you see, Brenda?” he asked her. “He’s Santa, he’s Frosty, he’s Snowflake and whatever else takes his fancy. When the cops come and haul me away, you must tell them about this, get the investigation turned in the right direction.”
“Okay, Ray, time to get up and step out to the parking lot.”
“Listen to him, Ray,” Brenda said urgently.
Ray was saddened that he couldn’t even convince Brenda.
“Yes, listen to me,” said Ingles, making circles with the barrel of his gun. Ray stood up, but made no move toward the parking lot. He focused on the gun. He looked from Ingles’ hands to his eyes, and then back to the gun barrel. Nothing else mattered.
“You can give yourself up,” urged Brenda. “You don’t have to let him get any glory. Sure, he’s an asshole, Ray. But don’t give up your life for this.”
“Santa,” said Ray. “What a poor choice of names for you, Ingles.”