COSMOS magazine

Friday, July 4

Each time her eyes closed, Jill felt nauseated, as if she were still in the jolting Humvee. Taking care not to move her head, she kept her gaze fixed on the strip of light at the bottom of the closed door.

She didn't regret leaving the hospital; it was worth dealing with the nausea to know that Alex was safe. She listened for his voice, the sounds of his sneakers on the tile floor. He must have fallen asleep in the back of the Humvee. Paul would carry him in.

So lucky to know Paul. So good, being able to trust someone. Drifting into sleep, she imagined she heard a dog barking.

A man's shout. A gunshot, the dog howling in pain. A woman screaming. Oh my god! Alex!

Head reeling, Jill tore open the bedroom door, ran down the hallway toward the front door.

Alex!

The front door burst open as Jill stepped into the darkness of Roberta's living room. Two men dressed in black jumpsuits stood there, one pointing a rifle, the other shining a flashlight around the room.

"Get over here right now!" the gunman yelled.

"Ninety degrees!" The flashlight had discovered Jill.

The gunman, shockingly young, no more than twenty-two or three, was obviously jittery. I've had practice with a killer, Jill thought, drenched in traumatic memories of Wayne, the lab, the terror. "There's no need to point the gun at me." Keeping her voice as calm as possible. "I'm not armed or violent."

"Get outside with the others." He spoke very loudly, kept the gun pointed at her.

A woman was weeping and cursing outside. Was Alex still asleep in the car? Carefully, Jill shuffled toward the front door. Roberta knelt on the porch beside the body of a golden retriever. Two men in brown uniforms held their rifles on Paul, who stood between the Humvee and the house.

"Over there." The flashlight directed Jill to stand next to Paul.

"She's been in a traffic accident," he told them. "She needs to sit down," Paul put an arm around Jill's shoulders.

"Shut up."

"Who are you?" Jill's head was throbbing again. I will not let myself pass out. I will concentrate all my effort on standing here and talking to these people.

"Police."

"Do you have a warrant?"

"We don't need one. We have probable cause to believe that a missing child is in the vehicle or on the premises." The man with the flashlight shined the light on Roberta. "Ma'am, is this your house?"

She looked up from the slain Labrador, grieving and furious. "Yes. It belonged to my natural father, George Milton, and so did Sitka. Dad died last month. Now you've killed his poor old dog, you bastards."

The man looked uncomfortable. "Sorry for your loss, ma'am. Well, if you have nothing to hide, I'm sure you won't mind if we look around."

"You're not from our local sheriff's department. Who are you? Where are you from?"

"I'm from Johnson City."

"But that's over sixty miles away. It's a different county. Not even your jurisdiction. What are you doing here?"

"We're cooperating with the FBI. We just want to have a look around."

"You don't have to let him search your property, Roberta." Jill's voice was strong, but she was not sure she could have remained standing without the support of Paul's arm. "Not without a warrant."

"If you have nothing to hide, why should you mind if we look around?"

"Because this is private property, it's the middle of the night, and I've been ill and need to go back to bed."

"Are you Jill Shannon?"

"Yes, I am."

"Is your son Alex Hindle with you?"

"Alex Shannon. No."

"Did you know your son has been reported missing?"

Jill was relieved to see the guns being lowered, but the officer was studying her face closely, gauging her emotional reaction to his statement. "If you know who I am, you already knew I'm an attorney. We don't have to answer your questions now." Just speaking made her feel ill. She forced herself to meet his eyes. "If you want to search this property, you people need to get back into your cars, drive back to wherever you came from, and obtain a proper warrant." The man with the flashlight stepped toward the Humvee. Jill fought to keep her voice calm. "Did you have Ms. Treadwell's permission to enter her house earlier?"

"They certainly did not." Roberta stood. "Nor did I give them permission to kill my father's dog." Her voice broke.

The man turned away from the Humvee. "The animal attacked us."

"The dog was doing her job, trying to protect me. Whoever told you there was a missing child on this property?"

"I'm not at liberty to give you that information, ma'am."

"Please leave now." Roberta's voice and manner had regained their usual authority.

Somewhat to Jill's surprise, the flashlight man walked away, motioning the others to follow. The four men climbed into two unmarked cars, and pulled away, radio crackling faintly. Jill whispered urgently, "Paul, where's Alex?" The other six cars had stayed back on the road, blocking access to the property; now they began to move away. Jill sank to the porch steps, thankful to be sitting down.

"Hiding somewhere. I don't know where. Smart, smart kid. He knew what was happening before I did. They followed us here in a helicopter. Be a good idea to let Alex lie low until those guys have gone on down the road."

"They really sent a chopper to look for Alex?" It seemed an extraordinary over-reaction, even to a possible kidnapping. "Where's that prick Wayne?"

Paul shrugged, shook his head "Probably took off when he saw the cops coming."

"I felt like running away myself," said Roberta. Her cheeks with wet with tears. "Poor old Sitka, trying her best to protect us. I was afraid one of us would be their next target."

Jill stood, swayed and almost fell. "I'm going to look for Alex," she said, and sat back down with a thump.

"I have a pretty good idea where Alex is." Paul crossed to the Humvee, opened the door.

"But that cop was shining his flashlight in there."

There was a bang and a muffled voice. Paul opened the trapdoor.

"Oh man!" the young voice muttered from the darkness. "I thought I was gonna suffocate in there."

Paul patted him on the back. "Well done, my good man."

"Alex?" Jill stood carefully, took a step toward the Humvee. "Alex! You little genius! Have you been there all along?"

"I was pretending to be an illegal weapon." Grinning, Alex staggered out. "My legs don't feel all the way unfolded yet."

She was astonished. "How'd you know you should hide?"

"I saw 'em following us, then I heard them talking. I told you." The boy threw his arms around Jill.

Heard them talking?

"Mom, where's Wayne?"

"I don't know, son. Lots of things I don't know right now." Jill walked unsteadily to the porch, sat on its limestone edge. To Paul she said: "We can't stay here. I am not going to let them take Alex back to Keith's."

"We won't!" He put an arm about both of them. "Happy Independence Day!"

Friday, July 4

Drew lay comatose, as he had for days, brainwaves close to flat.

"Alyssa, he'd want us to remember him the way he was, not like this." After that first ghastly time, Maureen had not wanted to come back ever again to the hospital. What was the point? Drew was not here. That thing was not Drew. But here she was anyway, day after day. "There has to be an end to it. Alyssa, please, we must let your son die with peace and dignity."

"Don't speak of this, young woman. He is my son, and he will return to us."

Maureen had to make the woman understand. It was a matter of dignity. More than that, it was a matter of her own psychic survival. She could not countenance this shell of the man she'd loved being breathed by machines. "He and I talked about it, don't you see? Drew absolutely did not want to be kept alive this way. I think we should honour his wishes and take him off the machines."

"What sort of person spoke of such things with their loved ones? He may have said that," Mrs. Chang told her coldly, "but Drew did not always act in his own best interests."

Her glance up and down Maureen's rumpled sweatshirt and jeans, uncombed hair and running shoes, made that clear enough. The woman added caustically, "I've known him a little longer than you have, dear."

Count to ten, Maureen. Don't say a word you'll regret later. We will share his beloved memory all the days of our lives. Taking a deep breath, she said, "I'm sure that's true, Alyssa. But no good, godly purpose can be served in this gruesome... this..." Her eyes flooded with bitter tears. "In keeping Drew's body alive when it's only a shell."

"Shh!" Mrs. Chang was sharp in her rebuke. "He hears us. His spirit knows what we say."

"Oh, please, Alyssa, if we're reduced to feng shui superstition—"

"Young woman, show respect!"

"I'm sorry, I'm so—" Maureen collapsed in tears. She was so tired. She was tired to death. After a moment, she felt Mrs. Chang's arm around her, smelled the perfume.

"Maureen, we both love him very much. I'm certain I saw his eyes moving this morning when I was reading to him. His father brought all his favourite stories from when he was a little boy."

Maureen nodded, withdrew from the conciliatory, manipulative embrace, went out into the corridor. She ran a comb through her messy hair. Who the hell could she call upon for help? Roberta Treadwell had been at that party where they were talking about personal identity. Roberta had heard Drew say he'd never wish to be kept on life support indefinitely. And it had been Roberta, after all, who had identified him when they brought him in to the hospital from that madman's shed.

She pulled her cell phone from her pocket.

Friday, July 4

Thirty thousand feet above sea level, Tom Gebhardt pushed aside a barely touched plate of fresh Gulf crab au gratin, picked up his cell phone.

"Call Bruce Blick, private line." Automatically, the phone activated its encryption program. Blick answered within seconds.

"Tom. Are you still in Austin?"

"Just left thirty minutes ago."

"I want you to talk to them in person." Soothing electronic music played in the background; Bruce must be enjoying a therapeutic massage.

"They weren't taken into custody, damn it. The local sheriff backed down and ordered his men to leave before they found anything. Shannon and Gibson were there, no sign of the kid, no evidence of any research facilities."

"What about Wayne Elliot? It's possible he's had the Gibson treatment too. I'm informed his fingerprints were found on an abandoned stolen car."

Tom gritted his teeth. "Yes. A cop had pulled them over earlier this evening for a broken rear light. Computers were down when he called in the license number, which turned out to be for a different car—he'd switched plates. The cop let Elliot go."

"God damn it. Listen, Tom, have Steve send out the UAVs."

"To find Elliot? Is he really that important to us if—"

"After the mistakes you've made this past month, Tom, I'd say you've lost the right to question any decision I make. Just do it."

Asshole. I should just walk out on him. See how he likes that. It was not the first time Tom had thought about leaving his job, his life with BlickPharm. But Blick was a powerful man, and Tom had seen him destroy men with a lot more going for them than Tom had ever had. There's no way Blick would let him walk away. As ever, uneasy, he dismissed the temptation as absurd.

"Put the UAVs on standby in case we need them," Blick was telling him. "I want Elliot brought in, but my concern at the moment is with the other three. I want the kid in one of our labs. I want his biochemistry peeled like a fucking onion."

Easier said than done, Tom thought, if the child's with Wayne the Insane. He suspected Bruce would have Paul Gibson killed to halt any further work on auxosomes. Possibly Roberta Treadwell as well. It'd need to be done soon, before they could release their results to date. If MTJ got frightened enough to make the information public before applying for a patent, virtual publication could happen literally at any minute. Email and the World Wide Web could splash the information around the planet in moments.

"What do you want me to do?" Tom had never been directly involved in anyone's death, unless you counted the Rutherford program. But too many of Bruce's enemies died or disappeared conveniently; it could not be chance coincidence.

"Get Alex Shannon. Get Gibson into custody. You've already arranged a thorough search of his Austin lab?"

I'm not incompetent, you damned— "Of course, Bruce."

"Gibson's violated PAHGE. If that won't stick, get him for child kidnapping. And I want Treadwell and Jill Shannon closely monitored. Know where they are at all times. This is important! I want you to stay in Texas and make sure nothing else goes wrong."

"Right, Bruce." Tom silently ground his capped teeth. Arrogant prick. "I'll give the order to turn the plane around."