“What was that about?” She whispered in Galen’s ear, still uncomfortable with the affect he had on strangers. She could no longer deny that he was more than she planned on when she engineered him, but still felt that if she had the equipment and the time to do the research she could understand why Galen was so very different.
“They’ve had some miscarriages,” Galen replied, “but Natalie will go full term and be very healthy.
Christine was not a religious woman, and felt those who were to be slightly kooky, but knowing the origin of Galen’s DNA coupled with his strange abilities and the affect he had on total strangers was beginning to give her doubts about her relatively firm agnostic beliefs.
Galen must have noticed her agitation because he glanced up at her and in an eerie repetition of the advice he gave Erin said. “It’ll be alright. I’m almost strong enough,” he told her softly.
Christine shivered and was far from being comforted. She was far from a history buff, but even she knew what happened to those others believed to be divine. It was always ended messy, bloody and rarely pleasant.
†
Just after 11pm, Special Agent Cord Armstrong and his group turned off Leavitt Street and drove into the underground parking garage at the Chicago Headquarters of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. At the moment he was less than five miles from where Adam and Galen doubled up in a full sized bed at the Travelodge. Christine and Avigail shared the other bed, while in the adjoining room Dorothy and Vio doubled up leaving Blue with the semi-luxury of having a bed all to himself.
Armstrong however, was not sleeping, despite the availability of several rooms within the spacious offices dedicated to just that pursuit. He was close; he knew it and with the help of Garcia and Collier, quickly set up the preliminary moves in order to launch a full-scale manhunt within the city limits of Chicago.
“Chicago PD’s on alert and we’ve faxed photos of Dr. Dawkins and her brother, along with renderings of the boy and the two women to all the local hotels and a number of the larger restaurants. They won’t be able to travel far without being spotted,” William Hadlin, FBI Director of the Illinois branch told them once they were settled in and beginning the process of searching.
Armstrong nodded and quickly glanced at his team. They were all painfully aware of just how fast and how far the fugitives could travel if they so desired. No one however, wasted any time clueing in Hadlin, he would find out in due time, if they stayed in Chicago long enough.
“And they know not to approach them,” Armstrong said sternly. “There must be no mistake…if spotted, Dawkins must only be kept under surveillance until a team can move in and take them quickly.”
Hadlin shrugged in agreement. “They won’t escape,” he replied confidently, wondering just what this Dawkins fellow did to have Homeland Security, the FBI, the NSA and the Department of Energy all after him. Whatever it was, Hadlin had little doubt that Dawkins was now the most wanted man in the entire country.
Collier snorted at the director’s naivety and Armstrong shot her a look but said nothing. Collier sobered, then yawned. ‘It was going to be a long night.’
†
“Mr. Stanfield,” Christine said, calling from the room phone. “My name is Christine Dawkins. I was Paula’s roommate in med school.”
There was a deep silence on the other end of the line.
“Hello Mr. Stanfield?” Christine asked.
“I’m…I’m here,” the man on the other end replied. “I’ve…if you don’t know I’ve just returned from her funeral. It was a few days ago,” he said softly, his voice full of emotion.
“I know Mr. Stanfield…I have information about her death,” Christine added quickly, suddenly afraid the man would hang up on her.
“I’d like to meet with you,” she hurried on.
There was another long pause.
“Mr. Stanfield, it’s important,” Christine continued. “Paula was helping us when she died. She wanted us to talk with you.”
Another pause. “You know Gino’s on Wells?” Stanfield finally asked.
“No…but I’m sure we can find it,” she answered.
“Be there in an hour. Ask for me,” Stanfield said tersely and hung up.
Christine slowly set the phone down and turned to her brother. “He agreed…a place called Gino’s on Wells Street…in an hour.”
“Are you sure about this?” Adam asked, growing nervous about the whole idea of coming out of hiding.
Christine paused and glanced down at the table where she had Galen’s folder open and a host of papers strewn about in chaotic fashion. “I don’t see we have a choice, no matter what Galen says, the aging process continues to accelerate. He’ll die if I don’t get access to a lab soon. I’m flying blind here…I need to know what’s happening.”
“Let’s hope Blue finds a decent rental car then…hopefully one with tinted windows,” Adam told her, trying hard to keep his eyes off of Vio, who was lounging in his bed atop the covers, looking through the pictures in the HBO guide, her hair still wet from her shower. “I don’t want to be out walking around in broad daylight.”
Galen was in the other room with Avigail, watching television.
“You think they know we’re here?”
Adam shrugged. “I think they probably know about Goblin State Park,” he answered and nodded toward Vio. “They keep cutting parts off people…the DOE will make the connection eventually, if they haven’t already.”
“Yeah,” Christine said sitting down on the edge of the bed. Vio looked up at Christine blankly. Vio’s English was better now but she still had to concentrate in order to follow a conversation. She could, however, read facial expressions just as well as anyone and it didn’t take much to see the look of concern on Adam’s face.
“Much trouble?” she asked.
Adam looked down at her and his face instantly changed. Vio immediately smiled back. Christine noticed and smiled to herself, very happy for her brother, Vio was truly lovely. She just hoped they could somehow get out of this without dying or going to prison.
Blue returned with a large rental van, the kind used for church functions with seating for twelve. It was plenty big enough for everyone, plus it was very mundane and nondescript which suited Adam just fine.
They arrived outside Gino’s nearly ten minutes early. The drive was shorter and traffic lighter than they’d imagined for downtown Chicago, but no one moved until it was time for the meeting and as it was only three of them climbed from the van; Adam, Christine and Galen.
“We’ll draw less attention,” Adam told the rest, and though Vio and Avigail agreed to stay behind in the end, neither was all that happy about the decision. They’d come a long way to be with Galen and they didn’t want him wandering around without protection, but Adam insisted and slipped the gun into the back of his pants and pulled out his shirt to cover it.
“We’ll be fine,” he insisted and leaned over and gave Vio a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Take them to the drive thru,” Adam said at the driver’s side window and motioning toward a McDonald’s a block down on Ohio.
Blue nodded. “Be careful,” he told his new friend quietly then pulled out from the curb before anyone in the van could protest.
“Act normal,” Adam said to his sister who was fidgeting on the sidewalk next to Galen, who didn’t need the warning. He was glancing all around, staring at the tall buildings in wonder and smiling from ear to ear…completely normal behavior for Galen.
The restaurant, a pizza joint, was packed with the noonday lunch crowd and there were several small groups actually waiting in the entryway. Adam excused himself and pushed past them, making his way to the hostess, holding Galen tightly by the hand. Christine, who brought up the rear, had hold of the young man’s other hand. And though they bumped and jostled several patrons on the way in, somehow no one took offense and several even offered smiles to the newcomers.
A small, pert nosed girl waited behind an old
podium. Her hair was long and black and tied back in a ponytail. Looking at her Adam felt a pang of loneliness for Vio, though she’d only just left him. ‘Get a grip,’ he thought and smiled at the hostess.
“Forty-five minutes to an hour,” the girl announced chewing gum expertly as she talked.
“We’re here to meet with Mr. Stanfield,” Adam said leaning forward and talking just loud enough to be heard over the noise of the surrounding conversation. “Mr. John Stanfield,” he added.
The hostess, who was no more than eighteen, didn’t seem to be listening. She was busy shooting dreamy eyes at Galen. Adam was positive that if Avigail were here she would be very crotchety…possibly enough to remove the girl’s head. He was suddenly very glad he’d left the two sword-maidens in the van.
But apparently the girl had heard him. “This way,” she finally said doing a slow pirouette, keeping her eyes on Galen until the last possible second. When she walked up the aisle she swung her hips in an exaggerated fashion and Adam chuckled.
“Leave it to my sister,” he whispered into Christine’s ear as they followed, “to engineer a sex magnet.”
“Hush,” she told him and swung an elbow into his stomach. Adam grunted softly and gave her a little push. The little strumpet of a hostess led them across the main dining area, through a set of swinging doors and into another smaller room which held only a half a dozen tables. They were all empty save one. The room was painted a dark maroon and had only two small octagonal windows placed high up on the east wall. Sunlight streamed in through the small windows, casting bright rays of light in an otherwise semi-darkened room. The only other light source in the room came from the single candles placed in the center of each table.
The lone occupant stood as they entered. He was an older man, tall and thin, too thin to be considered fit, with silver hair and the kind of tanned skin that looked pitifully vain on an older man.
“Thank you Molly,” the man said to the hostess when she showed no signs of leaving. The girl frowned at him and popped her gum and then with one last, lurid stare at Galen, she turned and left the room.
Christine pushed past Galen and held out her hand. “Mr. Stanfield?” She asked, unsure even though she’d met the man a couple of times in her college days.
“Christine,” the man said with a sad smile and took her hand. “Come sit. I have something for you,” he added shaking Galen’s and then Adam’s hand, before leading them back to his table.
They all quickly took their seats, Adam very careful to occupy the one facing the door.
“Mr. Stanfield…” Christine began. She was not looking forward to telling him why and how his niece died.
“Call me John please,” he insisted, interrupting her. “And before you begin,” he added and slid a piece of paper across the table toward Adam. They all looked down and saw pictures of themselves, although the image of Galen was of a much younger version. Just above the photographs was the official heading of the Chicago Police Department and just below were the words. “Wanted for questioning! Do not approach! Suspects are to be considered armed and dangerous!” And on the very bottom of the page was a set of phone numbers, none of them 911.
“This came through the restaurant’s fax this morning,” Stanfield began, “my late wife was Vito’s sister…he owns the place. You’re safe here,” he added as if that explained everything.
Adam stared at his picture for a moment and then glanced up at Christine, whose eyes were wide with fright.
“They know we’re here,” she whispered though presently the room was empty except for themselves.
Adam nodded.
“How is that possible?” Christine asked, but before anyone could answer, Stanfield cleared his throat.
“The official report in St. Louis was that Paula was shot while being mugged in the park, but I’m assuming this,” he said motioning toward the poster, “concerns Paula’s death,” he finished and stared intently at Christine.
Christine went slightly pale and nodded. “Paula was not robbed,” she began. “She was helping me…helping us,” she added with a glance at Galen. Stanfield turned his attention to the young man at the table for the first time, wondering who he was and what his involvement was in all of this. His image was not on the wanted poster; perhaps he was the son of the man sitting across the table.
“Tell me,” Stanfield said removing a pen and a small pad of paper from his jacket pocket. “Please,” he added and then like a good journalist, shut up and kept his pen at the ready.
It took Christine nearly a half an hour to go through the entire story with only an occasional addition from Adam. Stanfield, to his credit, never interrupted the flow and listened to the entire monologue with quiet detachment though at certain points he did raise his eyebrows in surprise and jotted down a few quick words on his notepad. Several times, however, he glanced at Adam, as if for confirmation, on a few of the wilder claims.
When Christine finally fell silent, Stanfield studied Galen with undisguised interest.
“This is you?” He asked, pointing to the photograph still lying on the table. Galen nodded and smiled.
“This was you…three months ago?” Stanfield asked again slightly incredulous and once more Galen nodded.
“The R89 gene is very effective,” Christine explained. “But I will need to do more lab work if we’re ever to discover how to turn it off. Paula was allowing me to use the lab at Wash U. She was intrigued as I was by the enigma of Galen.”
Stanfield sat speechless for several long minutes, thinking about the implications of genetic manipulation. “And the women…the women from the…” he paused looking down at his notes, “…the bridge. They are here?”
Adam just nodded.
“They’re outside waiting in the van,” Christine offered and Adam winched though Stanfield had given them no reason to distrust him as yet.
Stanfield shifted through his notes, and then looked up and stared at Galen. “And he was engineered from your DNA and DNA acquired from the Shroud of Turin?”
“Yes,” Christine confirmed, slightly exasperated. “I didn’t know it at the time and only learned of it later from Reverend Heyworth.”
“Incredible and very stupid! Jesus, the public is going to have a field day with this,” Stanfield exclaimed, then frowned and looked about the room as if at any time he expected someone to burst in, guns blazing. “And you think agents from the DOE killed Paula?” He asked, slightly afraid of the answer.
“No…” Adam answered for his sister. “The agents had us cornered. They surrounded us in the park. They were close, but it was a long distance rifle shot that killed Paula, and one of the women from the other side…Avigail saw the shooter. He tried again in South Dakota but Vio killed him.”
“South Dakota?” Stanfield asked. “Near Dell Rapids?”
Adam nodded and wondered how Stanfield had guessed.
Stanfield whistled. “His name was Torres, a radical. Apparently he was a freelance assassin but did mostly abortion work, killing doctors and those who worked for the clinics.”
“But why was he trying to kill us?” Christine asked looking from Stanfield to Adam and back.
Adam shrugged, but John remained thoughtful. “We may never know,” John said, “but what we do know is that the government is seriously invested in finding you…and from what you say, very intent on terminating this young man. They’d have to be. Christ if this ever gets to the public the entire situation will explode all over them.”
“I know it’s dangerous but this has to get out or they will kill him!” Christine said, very concerned. “It’s Galen’s only chance.”
John nodded. “Yes…the government will want to keep it quiet, make it…him, just go away,” he agreed and nodded at Galen.
He looked once more at the strange boy, who stared back and then smiled. “Thank you for helping me,” the young man said and reached out and touched John on the forearm. His touch surprised the older man, who up to that mome
nt had been wavering in his commitment to help these people. And while he sorely wished to expose those who had lied about Paula’s death, going up against the Federal Government was never a very healthy option. But there was something about the young man, something innocent and pure and it tugged at Stanfield and helped sway his final decision. If Paula believed in the boy, well he would do his part then; he just hoped he wouldn’t end up buried next to Jimmy Hoffa.
He flipped a page on his notebook and quickly wrote down his address.
“Meet me here in two hours,” John said speaking mainly to Galen. “It’s my home…park around back. I’ll have to let my producer know, but when he gets a load of this,” he continued and patted his notebook, “I don’t think I’ll have any trouble being assigned a remote crew…we’ll get your story out in the open.”
“Ian’s not going to like this,” Christine said and felt a wave of relief, thinking of her boss at Cryogen for the first time in weeks.
“Neither will Colonel Bradford,” Adam agreed. “Are you sure this is the way to go?”
John Stanfield nodded and chuckled. “The government rarely enjoys the spotlight, especially when they’re up to something they shouldn’t be and thank god for the press in those cases.”
“I never thought I’d ever agree with that sentiment,” Christine said with a wry smile, “but thank you, thank you very much.”
†
“Got them!” Agent Collier yelled excitedly as she burst into the situation room. It was just before noon and everyone was very tired except for NSA Agent Sanders who’d slept on a couch in a vacant office for a few hours.
“Wake me when they’ve been found,” was all he said.
Everyone else, all members of various high-level security agencies looked up, bleary eyed but hopeful. The room smelled strongly of coffee, frustration and sweat.
“Where?” Armstrong and FBI Agent Hadlin asked simultaneously, the mood in the room shifting upward quickly.
The Best of All Possible Worlds Page 38
