‘No, I mean, yes, it was midterms. I … I had to turn them in before Thanksgiving break. Have you notified Gabeheart’s family?’

‘Not yet. Lauren, I’m sorry to have to spring this on you like this, no pun intended. I know you and the professor were close. Where can I find you … to notify you about the funeral arrangements?’

Don’t tell … don’t say a word … ‘I … I honestly don’t know.’

‘Are you going away for the holiday?’

‘I’m … not sure.’ Get off now, before you say too much … ‘I have to go, I’m sorry—’

‘Lauren, wait—’

She disconnects the comm link. Oh, God, oh my God … those bastards—they killed him! She covers her face, tears pouring from her eyes, sadness and fear taking her breath away. If they think I know something, they’ll come after me, too!

‘Stop! Get a grip and think. First step, erase the data trail.’ She turns to the main computer terminal. ‘Computer, erase all communication records received over the last week, with the exception of the last outgoing call.’

ACKNOWLEDGED.

Lauren’s hands are trembling. Okay, you can’t go home … can’t stay here … Who can I tell? Who would believe me?

A sudden noise—outside the lab. ‘Computer, seal the outer lab doors.’

ACKNOWLEDGED.

A knock outside the lab door.

She whispers, ‘Computer, who’s out there?’

CAMPUS SECURITY.

‘Shh. Reduce volume 80 percent and run a background check on the guy outside the lab door. I want a name and time he’s been on the job.’

COLLIN SHELBY. TRANSFERRED TO CAMPUS PATROL 19 NOVEMBER 2033.

November 19 … only three days ago. Jesus, these guys move fast.

More banging, this time insistent. ‘Hello? Whoever’s in there, could you unseal the security doors please?’

Cold beads of sweat pour down Lauren’s face. ‘Computer, shut down and lock out all terminals, access code Beckmeyer Tango-Zulu-8659.’

ACKNOWLEDGED.

Gotta disappear fast, before he overrides the lock.

She looks around, desperate, then notices the antique letter opener.

Outside the lab door, Collin Shelby slides his bogus identification card across the magnetic seal. ‘Computer, override lock. Security, Shelby 28497-M.’

The doors hiss open. Shelby enters the lab, stun gun in hand. ‘Ms. Beckmeyer?’

No response. No one visible.

The guard looks around, then checks Gabeheart’s private office.

Empty.

‘Computer, locate Lauren Beckmeyer, microchip identification 341124876-FL-USA

LAUREN BECKMEYER IS OFF-LINE.

‘Off-line?’ Shelby looks around. Sees the letter opener, stained with blood on Gabeheart’s desk. Locates the remains of the crushed microchip implant in the trash can.

‘Clever girl.’

Shelby removes a palm-sized device from his jacket and attaches it to Gabeheart’s computer, overriding the lockout mechanism. ‘Computer, access all e-mail records and hard drive documents and delete.’

Thousands of records flash past the small screen in an instant.