COSMOS magazine

Thursday, July 3

Seated at the conference table in Roberta Treadwell's office, Paul thought of Jill for the hundredth time that day. Carol had assured him he could do nothing to help at the court hearing, and when Roberta called an emergency meeting of the MTJ scientists whose work would be affected by the new law, Jill had urged him to go.

"This will definitely put a crimp in our plans to expand here in San Antonio, which have already been somewhat compromised by the terror attack," Roberta was saying. "I'll be working with our attorneys over the next several days to determine exactly which of our projects has to be modified or put on hold entirely. They tell me some of the provisions are so poorly worded that no one will know for sure what the law means until the Supreme Court decides somewhere down the line."

What a strange nation this is, Paul thought. A news article on the Internet the night before had extolled the law as a victory for morality. They regard themselves as the world's standard bearers for science and industry, he thought in disbelief, yet they make laws based on ancient ignorance and superstition. It was quite obvious from reading the text of the new law that whoever had drafted it didn't have the faintest clue what genetic engineering actually did. These poor rich barbarians, he told himself in despair, they simply hadn't understood what they were throwing away. People in China, Singapore and Latin America would snatch up the spoils. Meanwhile, he thought, my auxosome research is set back, and with it the hopes of the whole human race.

"We're now looking seriously into setting up a branch of MTJ in another country, or moving out of the United States entirely," Roberta said, confirming his private assessment. "I've spoken this morning with Ramon Li at the University in Guadalajara, Mexico. He's interested in a joint project." She keyed a note into her PDA, rose. "Thank you all for taking the time to meet with me today. I'm sorry we've reached this point. The general public apparently doesn't welcome research that will make life longer and healthier for every human on Earth. But I'm glad we're at least in a position to continue. Someday, perhaps, we Americans will come to our senses and this ill-conceived law will be struck down."

As the meeting broke for coffee and pastries, Paul sought Roberta out, asked for a word in private. They stepped into her office.

"I'm concerned for the safety of my mice," he told her.

"I thought you'd sacrificed all your auxosomal models?"

"All but two of the originals. I'm retaining those as controls. But I have a new batch transfected with modified auxosome. It's coded with its own regulators plus the sterilizing Terminator, so there's no need for additional inoculations."

She looked up sharply. "I understood that you were keeping those experiments separate from your work here?"

"That would have been desirable, but under the present circumstances—" He shrugged, spread his hands. "I couldn't be sure how much time we had left before the law steps in. The new batch is responding well to their treatment."

"Paul, I'm impressed and gratified by the success of your research efforts," Roberta said, shaking her head, "but you know we can't condone blatant breaches of the—"

"Of course." He gave her a winning smile. "My lab associate will retain several under observation in her home. I'd be very happy, however, to make you a gift of four former laboratory animals, which your children might enjoy as pets."

She smiled back. "You know perfectly well I don't have any children. Very well, bring them here and we'll find a place for them." She rose. "I'll keep an eye on them myself. I do realize that these might be the most important mice the world has ever seen."

Thursday, July 3

Payback's unyielding grip on Alex's neck would not be obvious to passersby, but there was no way Alex could break free. Three weeks ago he'd seen the gunman fire off his weapon at Mom and Paul. He had no doubt he'd be dead in a moment if he tried to yell or get away. Probably end up murdered anyhow, but the longer he could stay alive, the more chances he'd have to escape.

He tightened his own hold on his backpack. Things in there might come in handy—if he survived long enough to use them.

Matter of fact, he told himself, this weird guy in the dress might have done him a favour. If he could just get through the experience alive, escape, find his mother without getting recaptured, maybe he could disguise himself the same way. Change his name to Matilda or something, and never have to see April again. He guessed he'd never see his dad again either—not that he'd seen him all that much anyhow, even living in the same house. Dad mostly left him with April. It'd be pretty much okay not seeing Dad again, especially if Mom and Paul got married. I'd way rather have Paul as a father any day, he thought, than Dad. He liked his step-sisters, though. He'd miss them.

Payback hustled him along, stopped beside a red car parked on the street, shoved Alex inside, snickering when Alex grabbed at his seatbelt and tried to fasten it. Probably wondering why I'd bother, Alex thought, when I'm going to be dead anyhow in a little while. His fingers felt numb, and he couldn't get the belt fastened; he hoped Payback was a good driver.

As Payback opened the door on the driver's side, Alex heard his name being called. The man shoved him down painfully, hand pressing the top of his head. He could barely see over the dashboard. But that was Mom's car coming slowly down the street. Driving around looking for him. He took a breath to shout out to her, but fingers clamped cruelly on his skull. Maybe if I concentrate really, really hard, he thought in panic, I can make Mom look this way.

"Keep your fucking head down!"

Mom had pulled even with Payback's car, passing by slowly. Payback had his engine started, taking his hand away, manoeuvring out of the parking space. Alex pulled himself up, wriggled to see over the back of the seat. Mom's car was turning around in a driveway. She must have recognized Payback, maybe even seen Alex. She was coming!

Payback hit the accelerator, throwing Alex painfully against the back of the seat. Mom was right behind them.

"Sit down, you little prick." The car swerved sharply around a corner, and Alex lurched against the door.

"Get down on the floor." Payback swatted at him.

Curled up on the floor, arms over his head, Alex was flung about as Payback accelerated, braked hard, careened around corners. "God damned bitch." Alex guessed Mom must still be behind them. Maybe she had her cell phone and was calling the police. He hoped not. The police would make him go back to April's house. Battered and bruised, he was feeling sick at his stomach from all the bouncing around. He pushed up from the floor, struggled back into his seat. They were on the wrong side of the road, aiming at an intersection. The lights up ahead switched from green to red. Instead of slowing, Payback pressed his foot to the floor. A car came at them from the side, swerved, horn blaring. Behind Alex's nostrils, acid burned. He couldn't keep it in. As he vomited, metal tore with a terrible noise behind them. He was flung across the floor of the car, onto the man's feet in their ridiculous women's shoes.

Payback ignored him and his stinky puke. "Holy shit!" he shouted gleefully. "Bitch ran the red light too and got totalled."

Thursday, July 3

In the Humvee, Paul checked his voice mail. Nothing new from Jill, but Carol had left a message asking him to call. She answered the phone herself. "Law Office."

"Carol, it's Paul. How did it go?"

"We had it won, but I'm afraid Alex let a rather wild cat out of the bag about that, uh, Stockholm research you were doing. The judge didn't like the sound of it, she's signed an order appointing Keith temporary managing conservator."

"Oh, bloody shit."

"Oh shit indeed." Her voice grew stern, even pissed-off. "I have to tell you, Paul, I'm not happy about this. April's gone over to Jill's house to get some of Alex's things, and Jill left without saying much more than see ya later. Mind filling me in on exactly what's going on? You've been holding out on me. Jill confessed you'd given Alex a second injection of that experimental substance."

"Roughly speaking, yes, but under the care of an Institute neurologist, Dr. Betsy O'Reilly. MRI scans, full blood work, the lot."

"Why the hell didn't Jill tell me up-front? There's nothing worse than a client who gives her lawyer only half the story. I can't believe she did this to me."

Paul felt wretched. Really, how could they both have been so stupid? Poor Alex, he must be feeling terrible. "She didn't want to involve you in it, I guess."

"But how can I represent her adequately if I don't know what's going on? Jill knows better than that. Well. So Keith has temporary custody of Alex, and judges tend to keep kids where they are, especially if it looks like a stable family situation. You guys better come up with some damned good proof that this auxosome shit is safe and legal."

Paul grimaced. "I do think it's safe, with the regulator shots, but—" He took a heavy breath, let it out. "In fact it's illegal under the new law."

"Oh, that's just great!" The lawyer's tone was bitingly angry. "Keeps getting better and better. When you see Jill, please tell her to give me a day or two to cool off, and then call me. I may see things differently tomorrow, but I'll be honest, Paul. Right now, I'm not sure the judge didn't make the right decision today."

She clicked the phone off in his ear.

Thursday, July 3

Pulled over to the curb, motor running, Wayne looked back up the street. A crowd of people gathered around the intersection where Jill's car had been broad-sided. The vomit-reeking child lying against his foot revolted him. Maybe he's having another one of those fits, he thought. This is bad. I need the kid alive to get the second and third stages of treatment from Gibson.

But it was more than that: he didn't want the little guy to die. Without stopping to question his motives more closely, Wayne scooped the kid's mouth out with his fingers. That's what you're supposed to do, isn't it? he thought. Keep unconscious people from choking on their vomit. He wiped his fingers, then poured the contents of a three quarters empty can of Coke over the kid's face.

"Hey, kid, time to wake up." The boy moved his half-shaven, patchy head, moaning. Wayne propped him back up on the seat, placing his own blue and red checked shirt over the centre console to make a pillow. "Listen to me, Alex. You hit your head and got knocked out. But you're gonna be okay. Hear me?"

Alex groaned, barely nodded.

"Now I know you're in some kind of trouble yourself. I saw you run away and hide from your mother and that blonde lady. You help me, I'll help you. We're in this together. Okay?"

Alex nodded again, but his eyes stayed closed.

"The cops could be after us any minute now, so we have to get outta here. Have to ditch this car soon. They'll be looking for the license number." As he talked, Wayne eased the car back into the traffic.

Originally he'd planned to drive calmly to a place he'd picked out and call Paul Gibson from a pay phone. If Jill was dead in the crash, his plan might still work. She was the only one who knew he had the kid. But he couldn't count on her being dead. He needed to put some distance between himself and the car. Change of plan, then. If he could figure out an inconspicuous way to transport the kid to the tunnels, his home for the past three weeks, he could telephone Paul Gibson from one of the offices once everyone went home for the day. Gibson could meet him right there at the university. The kid could be left in an office or storage room, tied up if necessary.

They drove through a low-rent residential neighbourhood. Little kids ran around everywhere, women pushed younger kids in strollers. Hmm, Alex was way too big for a stroller, but if he could find a wagon, it just might work. Three blocks farther along, he found a house on the left side of the street with a faded "For Sale' sign angling out of an overgrown front lawn. He pulled into the driveway. No garage, but the drive curved behind the house, so the car wouldn't be visible from the street.

Even after they stopped, the kid just lay there. Wayne leaned over to check; the boy's eyes were open, staring at him. A slight shiver went through him, but he gritted his teeth and made the speech he'd prepared.

"Here's the plan, Alex. I'm gonna go find something I can push you around in so you won't have to walk. Then we're gonna go and find your pal Paul Gibson. I want you to wait here until I get back. We're in the shade, so you won't get too hot, and the sun will be going down pretty soon. I'm gonna lock the car doors. If I come back and find you gone—" Wayne stopped. Threaten his mother? Not the kind of thing you'd say to a partner, especially a boy, and under the current plan he needed the kid's cooperation to pull things off. "Well, I won't come back and find you gone, will I? I'm just locking the doors to protect you, 'cause this is sort of a rough neighbourhood."

"About my mom," the kid mumbled. Wayne realized Alex must be worried because of the accident, and wished he'd kept his mouth shut back there when it happened.

"Your mom's gonna be fine. When we talk to Paul, he can tell us how she's doing. Now I want you to just rest until I get back. Are you hungry?"

The kid shook his head.

Wayne locked up, pulled the wig tight, and tottered into the street in his stupid goddamn women's shoes.