The Jigsaw Man by Gord Rollo Read Free Book Online Page B

do with all the money once this
    was over. I also learned that I'd been right with my
    original assumption: all four of us had been living on
    the street before accepting Drake's offer.
    Only for a moment did I pause to wonder how this
    Dr. Marshall could possibly be willing to shell out eight
    million dollars to us four misfits of society. Didn't that
    sound like a little too much money to just toss away?
    Maybe—
    My mind started to think things through, but then
    Drake reappeared and yelled at us to get a move on. I
    might have continued with my train of thought but
    when we followed him around the corner, what lay ahead
    made me gasp out loud and forget all about any linger¬
    ing doubts I may have been harboring.
    The featureless concrete hallway opened up into a lav¬
    ishly decorated four-story, glass-roofed atrium. A highly
    polished emerald-green marble floor spread out across
    the grand expanse of a room measuring seventy-five
    feet aeross, and what had to be damn near sixty feet
    high. To our left was a long cherrywood reception
    desk, a stunning depiction of a flock of doves skillfully
    hand-carved along its length. Luxurious black-leather
    couches and chairs were artistically spaced out around
    the room, along with several glass display cases filled
    with statues, paintings, and other valuable treasures.
    My eye was particularly drawn to a display of jewelencrusted swords lying on a carpet of ancient gold coins.
    All the seating and displays faced the north wall,
    drawing my eyes to where a massive ten-foot-high fire¬
    place was cut into the colorful fieldstone wall. On ei¬
    ther side of the fireplace, twin fifty-foot-high tapestries
    were hung, both gloriously depicting the rising sun
    majestically suspended over the tips of two godlike
    outstretched hands.
    I'd never been in a room quite like it. It was simply
    incredible—breathtaking in its beauty compared to the
    building's shabby, crumbling exterior. Earlier, I'd com¬
    pared this place to a medieval castle rather than a med¬
    ical center; seeing this immense fireplace and the
    exquisitely woven twin tapestries only intensified my
    initial impression.
    What would all this extravagance cost? This doctor must
    be loaded!
    This room alone would have cost a fortune. Maybe
    eight million for us losers wasn't as big a deal as I'd
    originally thought.
    Drake led us through the atrium, past the reception
    desk, and into a smaller room, which at first glance I
    mistook for a movie theater. There were five rows of
    ten high-backed seats arranged in a semicircle sloping
    down toward a large white projection screen. Beside
    the screen, on the right-hand side, was a raised wooden
    pulpit with an attached silver microphone available
    for someone to address a crowd. This room was obvi-ously a conference room of sorts, where m e e t i n g s ,
    media interviews, and video presentations could be
    held.
    "Everyone grab a seat," Drake barked. "Dr. Mar¬
    shall will be here in a minute to go over everything
    with you. If you have questions, this will be the time to
    ask them. There's room for the wheelchairs at the end
    of each row. You other t w o , sit anywhere you'd like."
    I helped Red Beard get settled at the end of the third
    row of seats, then plopped down in the same row a
    couple of chairs in. Wheels rolled down the wheelchair
    ramp to the first row, while Bill Smith took a seat at the
    back on the far side of the aisle.
    "Good enough," Drake said. He peeked out into the
    atrium, smiled, waved at somebody, then walked down
    the wheelchair ramp to the front of the room. "Well,
    no big fanfare or anything, 'causeI'm no good at speeches,
    but it's time you guys met the man responsible for
    bringing you here today. It's my pleasure to introduce
    you to the most brilliant man I've ever known. Treat
    him right or I'll break your heads. Anyway" he ges¬
    tured to the doorway, "Dr. N a t h a n Marshall."
    Drake was right; he certainly wasn't much of a
    speechmaker, but I