The Memory Painter

“Out of all of us, Diana took the least amount of Renovo, so perhaps her ability in this life is limited. After remembering ancient Rome, Diana was too terrified to move forward.” Finn stared at Linz like an exotic insect under a magnifying glass. “You’ve had that same dream your whole life? Fascinating.”

Linz shifted in her chair, uncomfortable with Finn’s scrutiny. She changed the subject. “After Michael and Diana died, what happened to the test subjects?” she asked. “In the project file it says they were all from Forest Green Psychiatric Center.”

Finn started in surprise. “How did you gain access to the file?”

“My father…” she admitted, “is Conrad Jacobs.”

Bryan held his breath, unsure of how this little bombshell would impact Finn.

Finn swallowed several times before he said, “Your father is Conrad? You’re…”

“Linz Jacobs.” She nodded, her eyes growing intent. “Did he take the drug too? As much as Michael?”

Finn didn’t answer. Bryan explained, trying to fill the deafening silence and keep the conversation going, “Michael took Renovo over the longest period of time, but, yes, Conrad increased his own doses.”

“Why has all of this been kept secret?” she demanded. “My father will barely admit he even knew you.” The questions tumbled out of her. “What happened the day they died?” Her eyes zeroed in on Finn. “I find it hard to believe you and my father are no longer speaking. You’re both happy to leave Renovo buried in Medicor’s archives?”

Finn looked like he was at a loss for words. He stammered, “Your father and I lost touch over the years. I’m sorry for subjecting you to the ramblings of a crazy old Buddhist. Now, I’m very tired.” He looked agitated and ready for them to leave.

Bryan leaned forward and spoke in Wardaman. “I know you’re afraid. Help me.”

Finn replied in the same tongue. “He’s a very powerful man now. I didn’t realize … you need to leave Boston. Right away.”

Bryan chose to continue avoiding English. “I can’t leave her.”

“She’s his daughter. You’re the one in the greatest danger. He wanted us all dead, but you the most.”

Bryan frowned in bewilderment. “Why? Why me?”

“Come back tomorrow, alone. We’ll talk then.” Finn stood up and rifled through a book cabinet, looking for something.

Linz sat fascinated and bemused as they carried on in Wardaman.

“These will confirm everything you remember about Michael’s life.” Finn handed Bryan five leather-bound journals. “Come again tomorrow. We have much to discuss.”

Bryan stood to leave. They could talk at length when he returned. He signaled Linz that it was time to go.

Linz held back. She wasn’t ready to go yet. “Dr. Rigby, I’m sorry if we’ve brought back pain from the past, but we really need answers.”

“I’ve already said too much.” Finn declined to shake her hand as she held it out to him. “Don’t tell your father you came to see me. Please.” He left the room by a different door, leaving Bryan and Linz to find their way out.

*

Linz and Bryan were headed back toward his car when her frustration finally got the best of her. “Can I get a translation please? How many languages do you speak?”

Bryan thought seriously about it before giving up. “I don’t know.”

She stopped walking. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I stopped counting a long time ago.”

“Well, can you take a wild guess?” she asked, growing even more exasperated.

“Over thirty?”

“Thirty? You speak over thirty languages?” she yelped, on the verge of having a meltdown on the street corner. “Which ones?”

“German, Russian, French, Dutch, Spanish, Chinese—Mandarin and Cantonese—Korean, Farsi, Italian, Latin—”

“Okay, stop.” She held up her hand. “Just translate what he said.”