Lost

If you provide a dog with food and water and shelter and affection, it will think you are God. Whereas, if you provide a cat with food and water and affection, it will draw the conclusion that it is God.

- Christopher Hitchens

I had determined that Leena, whatever her real name, was not an employee, despite what Mr. Jones kept insisting. Two pieces of writing proved it to my satisfaction. The first was the formula, written in pen, which had been delivered to Imanda Selim. Selim's job was to rewrite the formula in the company's standard notation, which meant that the original was not. Who but an outsider would not use the company's internal code to transfer important information?

The second was the scan I had seen on the terminal. I was now pretty sure that T.S.#3 and Leena were one and the same, which left me wondering who T.S.#1 and #2 were. I was also still very curious as to what T.S. would stand for.

Leena was certainly not a research scientist working for Mr. Jones. There was simply no place for her here. The offices above and below were tight knit and complete. The interactions with Leena's work seemed to be held to a few people, with instructions to keep it secret. Add to that the fact that this research team were working on deciphering and applying the information she was feeding them, that confirmed that she wasn't a homegrown genius who had gone bad and gotten herself into detention.

That left just a few options. If she was not an employee, then she was either a contractor, like myself, a captured spy, or an acquisition.

Acquisitions were rare and frowned upon. A person was 'acquired' when they were removed from circulation against their will and used as a resource. This was a dangerous move. Most trained individuals received their education from within a corporate structure and the investment was jealously guarded. I believe the ancient term was kidnabbing or something like that, though it was rarely children who were the target acquisitions these days, as they had very little actual experience or information to offer.

I was sitting at the desk again, rewriting Leena's formula from memory to see if I could determine what upset Imanada so much. There was a knock at the door.

Several thoughts filtered through my mind as I instructed the visitor to 'Enter.' I was a prisoner. This wasn't Mr. Jones, as she had already demonstrated no hesitation in walking in whenever it suited her. It was not a guard, because their training would now allow them to advertise their presence before advancing. This was a visitor.

Mehta was standing at the door. I have to admit I was surprised. He looked a little nervous, eyes darting everywhere. It was obvious he had never been down here before. He turned to the guard behind him and instructed him to wait. The guard nodded smartly, and Mehta entered the room. The door closed behind him.

Mehta spun and knocked once on the door. It opened immediately, and the guard asked "Yes, sir?"

"J-just testing that the door works. I will be out in a few minutes."

"Yes, sir."

Mehta turned back. There was an awkward pause.

"I loved her," he blurted out.

"I know," was all I said, opening a hole in our conversation into which he could pour his heart.

"Mendez thinks she was just flirting with me, because I was beneath her station, and it would never have been approved."

I continued to wait. He trembled a bit. "It's the silence that is killing me. I have this hole..." He was barely containing himself.

"Can you find her? I have my savings, and I can borrow more if you need it. Please, tell me you can find her. I don't even care if she was only flirting and won't have me. I just want to know if she is safe."

I paused for a moment. "Sit down. Please." I indicated the bed. The relief of hearing me speak was enough to ease his mind a little. I had not said 'No' to him. Not yet.

"Finding her is something I can do, but I am afraid there might be a conflict. You see, I am still working on finding Leena."

The name produced no reaction, but he was a smart one and made connections quickly. "If you are still working for her," he nodded his head upward to indicate Mr. Jones, "why are you down here?"

"I have irritated her, it would seem."

"Ah," he said, "then you are lucky that she likes you. Her irritants tend to disappear."

His head fell forward. "Then you can't find her. She's lost." His voice was low, quiet and despairing.

"I didn't quite say that." I encouraged. "She is still very much tied up in this case. In fact, I believe that solving her disappearance will be one of the keys to finding Leena, so you may get your request, and She," I nodded up in the same way he had, "would be the one paying the bill."

He brightened a little. "When do think you could get started?"

I looked around my little room. "I can pretty much assure you that she is not in here. Beyond that, we will have to wait until the charges are dropped so I can have a look around outside this room."

He brightened even more. "I can fix that! There are no charges against you. You just have an Escort Only flag on you."

"Well, I doubt your boss is going to have me dragging around on her skirts all day."

He was a little puzzled by the expression, but offered "We don't need her! It isn't a top level escort that is required, just an ML5. I know an ML4 who owes me, so he can be your escort! That is how I got in here."

I rose and folded the paper I was working on. "Well in that case, shall we?"

"Let's!" he said, leaping to his feet from the bed. His absolute confidence in my abilities were motivating him now.

"Wait," I said, putting a hand on his arm. "I have to tell you something. It is very likely that Imanda has been pulled into something much larger and much more dangerous than she could handle. I may find her, but you may not like what I find."

He stood there, refusing to look at me. "I know. You told me you thought she was dead. I am hoping you are wrong, but one way or another, I want her found. She deserves more than just to disappear and be forgotten."

"I don't think she will be forgotten," I said. He steadily averted his gaze, then knocked at the door. It opened immediately, and we stepped through. I watched the guard carefully, but he made no sign to stop us. We started down the hallway and he slipped in behind us. I heard the door close, and I realized how glad I was to be on the other side of it.

"This is going to sound strange," I said to Mehta, "but I have to find Darwin."

"Your cat?" he said. I didn't bother to correct him. "No problem, he is in the detention floor lobby with Mendez. How do you think we found you?"

So that is what he had been doing, rescuing me. How many times over did I owe him now, I wondered? I suspected, however, that he wasn't keeping count.

"Mendez?"

A look of distaste crossed his face. "I can escort you internally, but I don't have the authority to sign you out of the building. Mendez does. I threatened to reveal that he had been faking Imanda's communications if he didn't help us. He can be useful, if you wash well afterward."

I smiled. Mendez was dangerous, mostly because he was unpredictable. After yesterday's antics, he had no love for me, and would probably betray me at the first chance if there was an advantage to him. We would have to be cautious.

When we arrived at the detention center's lobby, two things struck me. First, Steward Mendez was anxiously pacing. Apparently, he was not sure of Mehta's plan to spring me.

The second was Darwin. He was occupying an entire chair in the lobby waiting area, doing his best Chat Noire.

Next to him sat the young guard, her faceplate up. She was younger than I expected, and her face was currently reflecting adoration. She hadn't touched Darwin, but was studying his every feature. Darwin maintained his pose for her. He was fully aware that he had entrapped yet another victim.

I walked over and sat next to him while Mendez went through the necessary paperwork with the guard at the desk.

"I hear you have turned bloodhound. Thanks. Again."

Darwin looked at me and simply nodded. I reached out and scratched his head, which he leaned into a little. Then he half crawled up onto my lap and without stretching up, licked my face once. He then leaned his head into my chest.

"Yes," I said, "I am really glad to see you as well."

"Amazing," the young guard breathed. I wasn't sure if she was referring to Darwin, or our relationship. Probably both.

I thought for a moment. There was still something here that needed to be done, and I was trying to feel it. Petersen. It was Petersen.

Mr. Petersen had been responsible for the goings on down here during his reign as director. Perhaps he could shed some light on Leena, and the significance of the T.S designations.

I excused myself to Darwin, and approached the guard desk again.

"Can I speak with Mr. Petersen?" I asked

The guard was initially confused, but asked. "Pass please."

I looked over at Mendez.

"I need to see Petersen. He was sending Imanda the information that upset her so much the day she disappeared. I think he may know something."

Mendez glared at Mehta then handed the guard his pass. The guard swiped it across the terminal, then handed it back to him.

"I am sorry sir, the guard said. The prisoner has an enhanced security flag on him. You don't have the clearance."

"Sorry, Finder. I can't help." Mehta sneered. "You are just going to have to manage without the information. Can I go now?"

Clearance, I thought. Who would have clearance? Mr. Jones, certainly, but I hesitated to ask her any favors. They were too costly. But perhaps I had earned enough goodwill with –

"Wilson," I said. "Contact Lab Manager Wilson."

"Director Wilson? The one who beat Petersen? I will need your pass again sir."

Mendez was confused. He had no idea who Wilson was. By this time, Mehta and Darwin had joined us.

"What's going on? Why can't we leave?" Mehta was getting worried again.

"I just want to follow up on a lead. It may save us a significant amount of time."

We waited silently while the guard tapped up Wilson's contact information. A harried voice came on the line.

"Wilson. What is it?" She was almost shouting. Behind her we could hear the sounds of activity and conversation. Things were apparently very busy on the research floor now that Wilson was in charge.

"Sir, this guard station 101 in the Cells. I have a Mendez here, ML2, who wishes to speak with a prisoner, a Mr. Alvin Petersen."

"Who? I don't know Mendez. Don't bother me again."

The guard was about to break the connection, so I spoke up. "Wilson, it's me, the Finder. Joshua Friedman."

"Wait a second," she said to someone on her end of the line. "Finder? How did you get yourself out?"

"I have friends."

"Must be nice. What do you want, Finder?"

"The request to speak to Petersen came from me. I need some information he might have."

"Ok, but consider our debt paid. I should never have accepted this damned position. I am surrounded by incompetents." There was a muffled voice at the other end. "Yes, that was directed at you! This shoddy work may have been enough for your previous boss, but unless you want to join him, run it again! Finder? You want to talk to Petersen?"

"Yes, sir."

"Save that 'sir' stuff for her. Go ahead, and I hope you give him the screws! Guard, Friedman has my permission to engage in any level of interrogation that seems fit to him. No! You idiot! Put that back there! Do you have any idea how much –"

At this point the contact was cut. "Very good, si... ma'am," the guard said to the air as the connection went dead.

The silence in the room after the cacophony on the research floor was a relief.

The guard tapped a few things into his terminal, then with the satisfied look of an administrator who had completed his paperwork, he turn to me, handing me a pass. He had figured out who was really in charge down here.

"It seems that all is in order, sir."

Accompanied by the Mendoza, my young guard, Darwin and I headed down to Petersen's cell.