“I’m sorry about the pain, but the new method of inserting the microchips is much easier than it used to be. You can now remove your blindfolds.” The recruits slowly removed the hoods over their faces and, for the first time, saw one another and the woman whose voice they had been hearing. Dr. Hennigan continued, “The microchip inserted into your body is your personal identification in The Complex. When you come to a door, your body will be scanned. If you have access to that door, it will automatically open. If you do not have access to a door, you will be informed you do not have. Do not try to remove the microchip. As soon as the chip is exposed to air, it releases a toxin into your system. If this happens, you will die rather painfully within five minutes. As a member of The Foundation, if you ever need surgery, you will be taken to one of The Foundation’s surgeons, who can temporarily turn off the chip if necessary. Follow me, and welcome to The Foundation.”
The recruits followed Dr. Hennigan closely in a single file line out of the Osprey. Dr. Hennigan had trained over thirty classes, so she did not need to look behind her to see the looks of awe that was registered on their faces. At the back of the hangar, a staircase led down to a brightly lit room. Armed guards stood on either side.
“Watch how I do this, because this will be your only instructional session on how to operate doors.” Dr. Hennigan stood in front of the door, and a narrow green beam emanated from a round ball above it. The beam quickly scanned Dr. Hennigan from head to toe.
“Welcome, Dr. Hennigan, Senior Administrator, Security Clearance Zeta. Please hand the guns attached to your shoulder, ankle and lower back to the security guard for inspection. Please remove the pen from your right front coat pocket. No other weapons detected,” a robotic voice said from over a hidden speaker.
Dr. Hennigan pulled out the gun on her lower back, unhooked her shoulder holster with the gun still in it, then rolled up her pants to reveal a small gun strapped onto her right ankle. In a matter of seconds, she gave the three firearms and the pen to the guards. The wall to the door’s left contained small lock boxes. A small box pushed away from the bank. The whirring sound of the gears was heard before a slight click. One guard reached over, removed the lockbox from the wall, placed the items inside and relocked the box. The guard then gave the box to Dr. Hennigan, who put the box back into an open slot in the wall and entered a key code to prevent anyone else from retrieving her items.
“You are only allowed to bring clothing and footwear into The Complex. Any other paraphernalia will be scanned and confiscated before you may enter.” Dr. Hennigan stepped in front of the door, and the scan reinitiated. The beam quickly re-scanned Dr. Hennigan from head to toe.
“Welcome, Dr. Hennigan, Senior Administrator, Security Clearance Zeta. You may enter.”
The doors slid open, and Dr. Hennigan stepped inside before they shut behind her.
Chapter Four
Ethan
The doctor slowly released the air from the blood pressure cuff attached to Ethan, getting an accurate reading.
“Everything seems good. Your blood pressure is one-twenty-three over eighty, which is about as normal as it gets. Your pulse rate is fine.”
Ethan glanced over and noticed Dan Rawlins, the band’s producer, who paced back and forth in the room’s corner.If Dan keeps that up, he will wear a hole in the carpet, Ethan thought before focusing again on the doctor.
“And you’ve never had a fainting spell before?” the doctor asked.
“Nope,” Ethan responded from the edge of his hotel bed. “This was a first for me.”
“Curious,” the doctor pondered. “Well, I see no reason for postponing your trip to Seattle. I would do the usual—ensure you eat properly and get plenty of fluids. If I were a betting man, I would guess you were dehydrated. The intensity of the studio lights caused the fainting spell. But again, this is a guess at this point. Make sure you take care of yourself, okay?”
“Doctor, I’ll make sure Mr. Bond takes care of himself,” Rawlins said. “Anything we should watch out for, though?”
“If it happens again, we’ll want to do a more complete workup. But, as far as I can tell, he’s in excellent shape. Once the lab runs the bloodwork, I’ll have a better idea if there is anything to be concerned about—”
“Yes, but are we good to continue with the tour?” Rawlins asked.
“Like I said,” the doctor started, “I see no reason he can’t continue with the tour as planned.” The doctor then turned back and looked at Ethan. “If you experience any symptoms, call me immediately.” The doctor reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a business card and handed it to Ethan. “My cell phone number is on here, so don’t hesitate to call me any time of the day or night. That’s what concierge medicine is for. You need me. I’m here for you. Got it?”
“Yes, Doctor,” Ethan said.
“Great,” Rawlins added. “Thanks for coming over, Doctor. Please, let us know when you get those test results back.”
Rawlins ushered the doctor from his bedroom. He flopped back on the bed, feeling a slight bounce as he stared up at the ceiling. He knew precisely why he’d passed out. Still, he wasn’t exactly sure how he would tell his producer, manager or the band.
“What happened to you, Danny?” Ethan said to himself as he wiped a tear away from his eyes. He’d been trying to keep his emotions in check all evening after the RNN debacle. He replayed the segment before the ZERO interview with Tom Dulce.Murdered?Who would want to murder Danny?
Ethan had met Daniel Hawthorne, the dreamboat star of the daytime soap operaNOLA Nightsat a party the year before. Danny, as his friends called him, knew Ethan’s best friend, Stephanie, from college. When Stephanie received an invitation to attend the previous season’s premiere, she’d convinced Ethan to be her date.
When Stephanie introduced Ethan to Danny, they immediately hit it off—not only because they were both celebrities but because they each knew the other was secretly gay. Ahh, the joys of gaydar. They started seeing each other on the downlow. Thankfully, it wasn’t uncommon for celebrities to hang out, so they had become friends. They were often seen hitting up nightclubs in town. They’d even had a couple of double dates with various starlets. Of course, they always had ended up back at either Ethan’s loft or Danny’s houseboat at the end of the night—together.
For Ethan, it wasn’t exactly love. It was a friend with benefits—a convenience situation. Both Danny and Ethan were hot, so there had been sexual attraction and chemistry. But beyond hanging out and hooking up, neither had been looking for a relationship. They’d spent the night together two nights before. Danny and Ethan had gone out partying and ended up back on Danny’s houseboat for a bit of fun before Ethan had headed back to his own townhouse in the Garden District.
There was a soft rapping at the hotel door. “Come in,” Ethan responded, snapping him out of his trip down memory lane.
“Hey, buddy,” Zach said as he entered the room. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” Ethan said, propping himself up.
