The Year Of My Life: VR YEAR 1 by Mark I. Jacobson - HTML preview

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The Missing Link

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“Why were you talking with the deceased?” Homicide detective Paul Acerno asked me.

“We met in one of the seminars. We were just discussing it, that’s all.”

“He didn’t have any ID on him, and we haven’t been able to get into his laptop. Did he tell you his name?”

“We didn’t connect on Tinder, detective. I wasn’t planning on meeting his parents,” I said with more than a hint of sarcasm in my voice.

Acerno gave me a look that told me I had better lose the attitude or we’d both grow old together.

“What were you two talking about?”

“The seminar was about whether hackers would have the ability to infiltrate electric power grids.”

“And what’s your in interest in the subject?”

“I’m a writer. All sorts of things interest me.”

“Who do you write for?”

“Anyone willing to pay me. I freelance.”

Just then, an officer came over and whispered something in Detective Acerno’s ear.

He glanced to his right and then at me.

“Stay here, writer.” he said as he stood up.

He walked over to someone who looked as if he could have been an extra in the Men In Black movies. They spoke for a moment, then separated as Acerno walked back in my direction. It was then that MIB did something that sent chills down my spine. He put his hand to his ear and talked into his jacket sleeve. I only knew of one law enforcement agency that used that particular communications technique, the United States Secret Service. What the hell had I stumbled into?

Thirty minutes later, Acerno finally asked the last of his questions.

“Are we done?” I asked as I stood up to leave. “For now.”

“I suppose you don’t want me to leave town.”

“Were you planning to?” Detective Acerno looked up from his notes.

“No, but I figured that was coming.”

“You watch too much television,” he said as he returned to his notes. “I’ll find you if I need you. Goodbye, writer.” And with that, I was out of there.

Hey Victoria, are you there?

Of course. We are on the same wavelength.

Get out of my head, woman! Okay.

No, don't go. That was just a joke.

Okay.

You’re a tough audience. Anyway, I need you to make sure I don’t show up on any hotel surveillance cameras from this point on.

What would you like me to do?

I don’t care if they see cats playing piano, as long as they don’t see me.

Okay.

I headed for the guest elevators. When the elevator doors opened on the sixteenth floor, I noticed a cleaning cart halfway down the hall. As I approached it, a housekeeper was just leaving one of the hotel rooms.

"Excuse me, would you happen to have an extra pair of rubber gloves? This hotel seems to get a lot bigger the more I walk through it and these crutch handles are giving me blisters," I said, with a slight grimace on my face.

"Sure," she said, handing me a pair of yellow, latex gloves.

“My palms thank you.”

I took the gloves and continued down the hall as if I was heading to my room. I turned the corner and was relieved to see that the hallway was deserted. Leaning against the wall, I rested the crutches beside me and slipped on the gloves.

Victoria, I need you to be my lookout.

In what way?

Monitor the elevator and hallway cameras. Let me know when the police are on their way. I lifted Heskett's wallet, hotel room key card, and conference ID badge while I was kneeling over him. That should buy me some time before they figure out who he is. Call it a hunch, but my reporters instinct tends to go into overdrive when someone dies in my arms. I need to check out his room.

Alvin Heskett’s room was about halfway down the hall on the left. I pulled the key card out of his wallet and slipped it into the lock slot. The green light came on as the door unlocked. Housekeeping had already given the room a once over. Opening the closet door, I found Heskett’s empty suitcase on the floor below a couple of sport shirts and a denim jacket on hangers. Typical attire for a geek conference. Next, I opened the dresser drawers. The top one held some underwear and socks and the other two drawers were empty. I crossed over to the nightstand. Inside the drawer, I found a hotel pen and pad along with a pair of silver cufflinks. Why did Heskett need cufflinks when he hadn't packed a dress shirt? I picked up one cufflink. It was a cube with a decorative line indentation across the center. I grasped half of the cube with one hand while pulling on the other half. Nothing happened.

The police are on their way up to your floor. I suggest you leave the room.

It had been less than twenty minutes since I left the bar. The police couldn’t have identified him that quickly. Then it hit me, the sleeve talker already knew who he was! He just hadn’t chosen to share that tidbit with Las Vegas Metro homicide. Heskett had to be Secret Service. The MIB were just waiting for a search warrant.

I just need another minute. Search the hotel reservations computer and tell me if there's an empty room nearby.

Picking up the other cufflink, I tried again. This time, the cube separated and revealed a tiny USB memory stick. I slipped the cufflinks into my pocket and took out the Heskett’s wallet. After wiping it down with the bedspread, I placed it in the drawer and slid it slut.

There's an empty hotel room, three doors to your left on the opposite side of the hall, number 1641.

I started toward the door. As I exited, I could hear the police coming down the elevator hallway.

You remember that trick you did with the key card on the night we met?

Yes.

Can do that through me?

Yes.

I walked over to 1641 and inserted Heskett's key card into the door lock slot.

Go ahead.

I felt a tingling in my fingers as the light turned green. I quickly entered the room as the police turned the corner.

It looks like I’m stuck here for the next few hours. Let me know when they leave the floor.

I will.

Walking over to the bed, I sat down and fell backward onto the floral bedspread. I pulled the cufflinks from my pocket. I took the cap off the memory stick and stared up at it, the lyrics from ‘Secrets’ by Eternal played in my head, “I wanna know about all of your secrets and all that, that you’ve been keeping. Oh, tell me your secrets.”

I closed my eyes for a moment and was roused by a wake-up call in my head.

The police are leaving the floor.

I looked at my watch and realized that my moment of rest had turned into a two-hour nap.

Thanks, Victoria.

I slid my phone out of its belt holster and pulled up the Uber app.

I'm leaving the room. Continue blacking out the surveillance cameras.

Uber arrived as I was exiting the hotel. On the way home, I casually draped my arm out the passenger window and dropped Heskett’s conference ID card onto the freeway.