PLANE

THE PATIENT AND PAT sat on opposite sides of the aisle. Which allowed Pat to sleep on his back with a belly full of wine and tequila. The patient stared out the window. The seat beside him was empty. That is until he felt someone approach and take the second seat beside him.

This was strange. The plane was to land soon. He turned slowly. He almost jumped. The man was whom he expected. A well-built man in a black suit, his jawline defined even in the dark plane. He passed him a phone. "Jack," said the man.

They did not shake hands.

"Yes?" asked the patient.

"Where's Penelope?" His face was unmoving. He watched the patient's expression with the most superior night vision. He was to remember every micro movement of Jack's face.

Jack the patient answered with a slight indignation. "Hospital De Jesus. Mexico City."

The man nodded. He was thinking before he shifted one seat closer to Jack. They were shoulder to shoulder and Jack pressed himself beside the window.

"What is it, Mr. Golem?" said Jack.

"I thought you'd know we're keeping a close eye on you." A grave dark cloud moved over Jack's head. Never had he wanted to hear those words come out of his boss's mouth. His real boss.

"What are you keeping an eye on me for?" His heart was suddenly beating fast.

"The murder of Penelope Ramirez."

Jack's heart skipped a beat. "There was no murder. Are you meaning to accuse me . . ."

"Don't say anything that can be held against you in the courts. The car you were in was both belted with explosives and its autonomic steering software was infected with a virus."

Jack's eyes lit up. This was news to him. "And you think I planted the virus and explosives?"

Absolutely. Mr. Golem straightened his tie like he was about to leave. "The second we land we're going on the Pacific Jet to headquarters. You aren't to leave my sight."

Jack looked around and saw Pat and all other passengers were still sleeping.

"Mr. Golem, you cannot arrest me on the sheer hunch that I had anything to do with the crash. Besides what does it matter to you that the Intel employee died?"

"Is your memory failing you, Jack?" This was a serious question.

"What?"

"I think the crash jarred your memory. Penelope wasn't just some employee."

Jack hesitated. "What do you mean?"

Mr. Golem eyed him, suspicious Jack was feigning ignorance. "Penelope's our spy."

Jack's chest suddenly caved in on him. Penelope? Suddenly he felt a pain in his head that made him believe he had lost his memory of the past few days. All he could remember of Penelope was that she worked for Intel as an Autonomous vehicle software security salesman and had gone to Mexico City with Pat and himself to sell the unhackable software to the Mexican government.

Penelope and Jack had just secured a deal with the Mexican government and were driving back to the hotel when the crash happened . . . or was it an explosion? Jack could not remember the details. He had indeed lost some memory. But why? Impact? His head had no concussion or bruises as far as he could tell. As far as the hospital staff could tell. His head seemed to hurt from the inside. But, no pun intended, this could all be in his head. The power of suggestion by his boss, Mr. Golem.

Mr. Golem studied Jack as Jack thought to himself. Jack noticed this after a minute and Mr. Golem seemed convinced that Jack was truly lost. Mr. Golem thought to himself for a moment then came to a decision.

"Did you have any suspicions when you were at the National Palace when you were selling the Autonomous software to the Mexican Presidential Guard? Did they trust you were a legitimate vehicle software security company?"

Jack thought long and hard. He had thought so. But strangely, part of his memory was failing him. Like a worm was swimming in his cranium. Wiggling in his prefrontal cortex and then slipping back into his occipital lobe. His memory failure was the strangest sensation.

Golem seemed to sympathize. But with a stone cold look he straightened his tie and stood as to actually leave this time. "Get home," he said. "Get your rest, say hello to your wife and Elise. Tell Katelyn I say hello. I'll give you some time to recover from the shock and gather your memory. You should have a clear mind between a few hours to perhaps a day. I'll give you a call and if you can't remember anything, I'll have to take you in. You are under surveillance now. You were the only one in the car and your buddy Pat sleeping over there is just a civilian. We ran his profile. If indeed the Mexican government has something to do with this then we have a bigger problem on our hands. I'll be in touch. But you better remember what happened soon. Otherwise you'll be in bigger trouble than you were when that car exploded."

With that, Mr. Golem buttoned his suit and turned. But then, Jack pulled at his arm.

He had one last question to ask. "Golem."

Golem turned. His face was blank with suspicion and business. He had lost trust in Jack.

"Is Penelope dead?" Jack asked only that. His voice wavered. It was painful to say.

Golem looked at him as if Jack truly was a liar. With a glare, a personal hate, Golem answered with a hard, definite, "Yes." And there was no coming back. Mr. Golem turned down the aisle and disappeared into the darkness of the plane. Jack's lungs gave out, and he rolled like a marble toward the window. The wing of the plane flashing red. His body was growing denser by the minute. And he had felt his time had surely run out.