Bliss by Bill Clem Page A

stopped abruptly. When it came back on, the tone of the film had suddenly changed. The picture was jumbled, and Lindsey could see the viewer was bouncing up and down as if the person recording it was running. Then something even more unexpected and powerful came on the screen.
    The camera pointed toward the sky as a helicopter hovered overhead, and then, Meyer’s voice. “Get away from my car.”
    Lindsey came off the bed and stood frozen in front of the TV. Oh my God. He filmed the killer.
    On the screen was the image of a tall, dark-haired man banging on the window of Meyer’s blue BMW. The helicopter was too far away to see well, but the image of it suddenly took up the whole screen. Meyer had apparently zoomed in on it.
    Lindsey’s jaw came unhinged. Holy shit!
    There in big, bold letters on the side of the chopper: IMEC.
    And looking down from the passenger seat, wearing a headset and sunglasses was the CEO, Stephen Vetter.
    Then the film went black.

27
    Hans Grovel arrived at his office at Zern Pharmaceuticals at precisely 7:00 A.M. Swiss-time, the same as he did every morning for the past twenty years. As head of the largest drug company in the world, he found punctuality a valuable asset to one’s success. After logging onto his computer and navigating to his email, he saw he had an urgent message waiting to be opened. It was from an anonymous mailer in the U.S. and he hesitated to open it for fear it could be someone trying to taint his company’s computer with a virus. After a careful scan by the computer’s virus software, he felt confident enough to open it.
    He wished he hadn’t.
    Their most recently acquired spin-off, Imec was about to market Bliss. An amazing new drug that promised to be a windfall for the company and would reap profits for years while their competitors struggled to keep up.
    But this information sent a shudder through his body. The thought crossed his mind that someone was playing him for a fool.
    In fact... this was not possible.
    It had to be a hoax!
    He burst from his office and took a right down the main hallway. Several night shift employees smiled reverently as he stormed past. He went directly to the company’s data processing room hoping to catch one of the computer geeks from the night shift.
    One huge data bank handled all of the company’s computer records. The clerk wheeled around as Grovel entered.
    “Morning,” Grovel snapped.
    “Goo–“
    ”I received an email this morning from an anonymous mailer. Can you tell me where it came from? I can’t trace it from my PC.”
    The data clerk swallowed nervously. “We don’t have the capacity to trace anonymous mail. I can contact the server. I’m sure they can help.”
    Grovel had no doubt they could help. These days when computers did everything under the sun, they kept records of everything. They could trace email through thousands of accounts in a matter of seconds.
    “Do it,” he commanded. “Let me know as soon as you find out.”

28
    Lindsey Walsh felt her body go rigid when she heard the bloodcurdling screams and battle sounds coming from the house next door. She yanked the phone from the wall and called 911.
    Bob and Melanie Booth lived there and were Imec’s newest research scientists. They’d arrived two months before Lindsey, and seemed like the perfect couple.
    Maybe too perfect.
    What Lindsey heard were howls, like a wounded animal coming from Melanie, then two back to back gunshots. Shots so loud and so close, they rattled the plates on Lindsey’s kitchen table.
    From her window, Lindsey saw the police cars descend on the house, emergency beacons flashing. Lights came on all over Indian Springs, and Lindsey‘s curiosity prodded her to go out the door and see what was happening. She didn’t want to interfere with police business, so she snuck to the side of her house where it sat no more than 20 feet from the Booth’s. A large window on the side allowed a clear view of the interior. She