The Mina Marz Incident

CHAPTER EIGHT

Dean watched as Melinda, Kenzie and Mina all circled around Charles, with Titus working his way in, trying to get a better look.

"Okay, as much as I want to help with this, I'm going to make a few phone calls and make sure our team is okay," he said. Grinning at the image of the recluse Charlie now surrounded by the angels of the thirteenth floor, he added, "I'll be back in a bit."

"Check on your assistant manager first," demanded Charles without altering his focused gaze. Everyone was so involved they didn't even wonder how he knew about Remy's absence.

"I tried to call her earlier and got no answer," offered Mina.

"I tried too. Oh dear, she really didn't look good yesterday. I hope she is okay. She lives alone, doesn't she?" asked Kenzie.

Dean nodded, a look of concern clouding his face as he immediately headed into his office to follow through on that idea.

"I need to head out and check on the wife," said Gus. She said she was okay, but she sounded a little freaked out. If you don't get Remy, let me know. She doesn't live too far from me. I can swing by and check on her."

"Thanks, Gus. Call me after you make sure all is good at home. We can go from there," yelled Dean from behind his desk, plugging in his cell device to charge and picking up the landline receiver.

"I'm gonna go raid the cafeteria snack machines and bring you geniuses something to eat. I don't mind chancing last night's pizza, but guessing you do," offered Porter.

"Fritzy, give me your phone. I need to send a message." Charles sent a text to his own number and handed it back to her. "Let me know the minute you get a response."

"EDM-0.0R-CM? What does that mean?" Melinda asked.

"Never mind that," he said as a text return arrived. "What's the answer?"

"It just says. 'R3 confirmed'. You sent a message to yourself?"

The question left unanswered, the brain team circled around the drawing, gluing their eyes to the rough sketch. First glance observation showed the perspective of the street, with three streaming billboards covered in questionable chicken scratch.

"Charles, does this really look like what you saw? I mean, I'm the first to complain about my artistic skills. This just looks so random – the lines, the figures. My programming doodles are more organized than this. Maybe I didn't get an accurate depiction?" suggested Melinda.

"No, no. It looks like what I saw. There has to be some pattern to it," whispered Charles thoughtfully.

"Okay, let's do this in an organized fashion to rule out all the obvious options," suggested Kenzie, true to form. "First, no one recognizes the symbols to be any language they know, right?"

"No, but Titus, you're the search king around here. See if you can find anything that looks like that," suggested Melinda.

"Search both living and dead languages," said Charles.

"Smart," nodded Melinda turning the drawings upside down as a test. "Kenzie, let me have that mirror you love to taunt me with, please."

The standard checks went on for about a half hour. All experiments came up empty, leaving them staring blankly at the page. Still keeping a focused gaze, they munched on the stale chocolate covered donuts delivered by Porter, hoping for inspiration.

Dean returned from his office with a grim look as he, with Porter's help, began to prep the big screen monitor station for the press release that was running late.

"You didn't reach Remy, did you," said Porter in response to the look on his face.

"No. Gus will go to her house shortly."

"Man, kinda wish I didn't insist she go home now," said Kenzie with regret.

"Mina Marz," said Charles with conviction. "From the reports I have read about your work, I didn't take you as the silent type. Yet, you haven't said one word. Would you care to share your thought process with the class?"

Mina looked up, startled by the calling out. Her wide eyes had been transfixed on the paper without blinking.

"You have been awfully quiet, Mina. You okay?" asked Titus, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"I'm not sure. I'm a little freaked out, actually," she whispered.

"Why's that?" said Melinda. "Do you see something?"

Mina nodded as she picked up a pencil and a blank index card off of Melinda's desk, a stack kept stocked for emergency notes.

"See this last line here on board one? Now look at this line here on board two. It's diagonal and mirrored. And then again here on board three. It's backwards. See?" she said, copying the markings to the card. "They aren't exactly the same, but I'm guessing it is because you were scrawling as fast as you could."

Charles said nothing as he watched the wheels spinning in front of him, but the grin faded from his face as he realized.

"Good eye. That gives us a pattern point," said Melinda, cocking her head and staring more intently at the three locations.

"Why would that freak you out?" asked Kenzie, nodding at Melinda's comment.

"Because... she knows what it says," said Charles, recognizing the look in her eye. "Don't you, Mina?"

"What? You figured it out already?" said Dean, looking over his shoulder.

"Can you, Mina?" asked Titus. "Can you read it?"

"When I look at that line, forwards, backwards or reversed, it's like I hear a voice reading it to me. It keeps saying the same thing over and over."

"A voice? What voice?" asked Melinda.

"Mine."

"What's it say? The suspense is killing me!" demanded Porter.

"It says, 'W-We're allgoing to die.'"

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