The Forgotten Room by Lincoln Child Read Free Book Online Page A

who wanted his job.”
    “No, no, nothing like that. I was a little afraid he might be, at first—it would be a natural enough reaction.” Mykolos sniffed, dabbed at her nose with a fresh tissue. “But he was genuinely interested in retasking Parallax for a broader market. And I think he felt that…well, that he’d done enough. He’d made several breakthroughs in relational database theory, created a very successful RDBMS of his own—that’s more than enough for any career. So while he remained interested in the work, remained dedicated to keeping Parallax the best it could be, he became less actively involved.”
    “And what did the work consist of, exactly?”
    Mykolos paused again. “It gets technical. Obfuscation, for example.”
    “You mentioned that term before. What is it?”
    “It’s a subset of reverse engineering. Making software difficult for competitors to decompile and figure out. Lux likes to get paid for Parallax—they don’t want to give it away. But really, much ofwhat I ended up doing was code review. That, and helping him document his theories as they had developed and matured.”
    “In other words, playing Boswell to his Johnson.”
    Mykolos laughed softly despite the red eyes. “We were both playing his Boswell. Willard was proud of the work he’d done—really proud. So he wanted to chronicle it, not only for himself but for posterity. Or at least what passes for posterity here at Lux.”
    “I see.” Logan thought for a moment. “So what about this other work he began a few months back? Overseeing the reconstruction and redesign of the West Wing?”
    For a moment, a cloud passed over Mykolos’s face. “He didn’t say anything about it at first. Nothing negative, anyway. But then, that’s not his way—he’d never bad-mouth anyone or anything. But I could tell he wasn’t especially pleased. By that point, all he wanted was to complete his work, maybe reduce the number of weekly hours a bit so he could get in some sailing. But as time went by, he grew more and more interested. It involved a lot of architectural planning and design—he really enjoyed that.”
    “I understand he was working closely with the firm that originally built this structure.”
    “Yes. Flood Associates.”
    Logan took a deep breath. Now came the hard part. “Just one more question. Can you please tell me about the events leading up to Dr. Strachey’s attack on you?”
    Mykolos remained silent.
    “Take your time. Tell me in your own words.”
    She plucked a fresh tissue from the box. “It came on so gradually I didn’t notice it right away. I guess it was the irritation first—he’d never acted irritated, ever; he was always the kindest person you can imagine. He’d never once raised his voice in the more than two years I worked for him. But he started to snap at people—secretaries, attendants—even me, once. And he began developing odd mannerisms.”
    “Odd in what way?”
    “Waving his hands before his face, as if to push something away. Humming, the way you might if you were a kid, and someone you didn’t like refused to stop talking. And then…then there was the muttering.”
    “I heard he was talking to himself. Did you hear any of what he said?”
    “Until the last day or two it was pretty much under his breath. I don’t think he was aware of it himself. And what I did catch was nonsense, mostly.”
    “Try me.”
    Mykolos thought for a moment. “Things like: ‘Stop it. Stop it, I don’t want it. Go away. I won’t, you can’t make me.’ ”
    “And then?” Logan prodded gently.
    Mykolos licked her lips. “The last couple of days, things got abruptly worse. He closed the door to his office, began yelling, throwing things around. He wouldn’t speak to me. I’d see him walk by, abruptly clapping his hands over his ears. And then, last Thursday…he looked so agitated, so troubled, I came up, put a hand on his shoulder, asked if I could be of help in some way. He turned on