by John Saul
Louise’s eyes brimmed with tears as she looked at the solemn face of the little boy. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
Adam cocked his head and frowned. “Is something wrong?”
Louise bit her lip and brushed at her eyes, but before she was forced to find a reply to his question, Hamlin appeared once more at the door. “All right, Adam,” he said. Then his gaze swung over to Louise. “And you come, too, please, Louise.”
Hamlin led them through the kitchen and laboratory to a small room at the rear of the house. Adam stared at the odd machine that stood in the middle of the floor. “Is that the surprise?”
“No,” Hamlin explained. “It’s for a new test we want to give you. Can you get into it by yourself, or do you need some help?”
“I can do it,” Adam replied. The machine looked to him like a huge fat metal cigar with a glass door at one end. “What’s it do?”
“It’s to test your breathing,” Hamlin said. “It only takes a minute, and then you can go back to your friends.” He helped Adam climb into the machine. “All set?”
The little boy nodded uncertainly, and Hamlin closed and sealed the heavy glass door. Then he turned to face Louise. “Open the valve,” he said.
Louise’s eyes widened. “No,” she whispered. “No, I can’t do it—”
Hamlin’s voice hardened. “When the project is a success we will all share the glory. Until then we will all share the responsibility. Turn the valve.”
Almost against her will, Louise’s hand moved to the valve that would open the decompression lines, “I can’t—”
But Hamlin was inexorable. “You can, and you will!”
Watching Adam Rogers through the glass door, Louise turned the valve. There was a quick whoosh as air rushed out of the chamber, and a fleeting look of surprise came into Adam’s eyes. Then it was over.
Five minutes later Adam Rogers’s body joined the others in the crematory that had long ago been installed in this room, and the fires were started.
Lucy Corliss picked up the telephone on the third ring, expecting to hear either Sally Montgomery or Mark Malone at the other end. Instead, when it was a voice she didn’t recognize, her heart skipped a beat.
“Is this Mrs. Corliss?” the voice asked again.
“Yes.”
“The mother of Randy Corliss?”
Lucy felt her legs begin to shake and quickly sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. Was this it? Was she finally hearing from the people who had taken Randy?
“Yes,” she said into the phone. Then louder. “Yes, it is.” She covered the mouthpiece. “Jim? Jim!” As her former husband hurried into the room, she strained to hear what the man on the phone was saying.
“This is Max Birnbaum. I got a diner out on the Längsten road.”
“Yes?” Lucy asked once more. What was the man talking about?
“Anyway, Mrs. Corliss, about ten minutes ago, a kid comes wandering in, all soaking wet, and asks me to call you.”
“Randy?” Lucy breathed. “Randy’s there?”
“Right here, ma’am.”
There was a pause, and then Lucy heard Randy’s voice, shaking slightly, but unmistakably Randy’s. “Mom?”
“Randy? Oh, Randy, what’s happened? Where are you?”
“I ran away, Mom. I got scared, so I ran away. I was afraid I was going to die.”
“Die?” Lucy echoed. He ran away from home because he was afraid he was going to die? Where had he ever gotten such an idea? “Oh, Randy, I’ve been so worried—so frightened.”
“Will you come and get me?”
“Yes! Oh, Randy, yes! Where are you? I’ll come right now. Right now!”
“I’m at Mr. Birnbaum’s diner. It’s—I don’t know. Mr. Birnbaum can tell you how to get here.”
Lucy signaled frantically, but Jim already had a pen and paper ready. She scribbled down the directions, spoke to Randy once more, then hung up.
“He’s all right,” she cried, the strain of the last week draining from her eyes. “Oh, Jim, he’s all right!” She hurled herself into his arms, hugging him tightly. “He’s back, Jim. Our son’s back.” And then, seeing Carl Bronski standing in the doorway, his face sober, she drew away from Jim. “Carl? Is something wrong?”
“I don’t know,” the policeman said. “I hope not. But it could be a trick.”
Her happiness deserting her as fast as it had come, Lucy sank back onto her chair. “A trick?”
“What did he say?”
Lucy repeated Randy’s words as closely as she could remember them. When she was done, Bronski nodded. “So he ran away after all,” he said softly.
“But he wants to come home now,” Lucy replied. “It’s not a trick—I know it isn’t.” She turned to Jim, and her voice suddenly grew shy. “Come with me, Jim. Let’s go get him together.” She looked from Jim to Bronski, then back at Jim again. “It’s over. Oh, God, it’s over. I’ll get my coat, and my purse, and then—” She ran out of the room, and the two men heard her rummaging in the closet for her coat.
“It isn’t over at all,” Bronski said softly. Jim Corliss looked puzzled. “It still might all be a trick,” Bronski went on. Then, while Jim watched, Bronski picked up the telephone book, flipped through the pages, and finally dialed a number. He spoke briefly, then weighed his options. Finally, he decided to gamble on his instincts. “Okay,” he told Jim. “I don’t think the call was a fake, so I’ll let you two go get Randy by yourselves. I can wait until you get him home to hear his story. But keep something in mind, Jim.” His voice dropped so Lucy would not overhear his words. “He said he ran away because he was afraid he was going to die. But he didn’t say he ran away from home. He—well, he might just as easily have run away from whoever took him.”
“If anyone took him,” Jim countered.
“There’s still Adam Rogers, and God knows how many others.”
Jim sighed, knowing Bronski was right. “Okay. But don’t tell that to Lucy right now, will you? Let her have a few minutes. It’s been so rough—”
“I won’t,” Bronski promised. “Tell you what—I’ll stay here and man the phone in case Sally or Malone calls. And see if you can keep Randy from talking until you get him back here, all right? I’d like to hear what he has to say first hand.”
As they drove through the night toward Langston and the diner where Randy was waiting, Lucy slowly became aware that Jim was not sharing her happiness. At last she could bear it no longer.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “What did Carl say to you while I was getting my coat?”
“Nothing.”
Lucy looked at him carefully. Even in the dim light, she could see the worry in his face.
“Don’t lie to me, Jim. Not now. Please?”
Jim forced a smile and patted her hand as it rested on his thigh “There’s nothing, sweetheart. Really.”
But Lucy was not convinced. They drove on in silence, and twenty minutes later, in the distance, they saw a flashing neon sign.
“That must be it,” Jim said softly.
Lucy leaned anxiously forward in the seat, her excitement growing as they pulled into the parking lot next to the diner. She was out of the car even before Jim had finished parking it, running toward the front door. Then she was inside, and there was Randy, sitting with a heavy set, middle-aged man who wore a greasy chef’s hat. Recognizing his mother, Randy leaped off his chair.
“Mom! Oh, Mom, I was so scared!” He was in her arms, burying his face in her breast, the tears he had been holding back all night finally flowing.
“It’s all right, sweetheart,” Lucy whispered. “I’m here now, and it’s all right.” She patted him gently and held him, rocking him slowly back and forth until his sobbing subsided. Then, as Jim came through the front door, she whispered to him again. “I have a surprise for you.”
He looked up at her through his tears. “A surprise? What?”
“Turn around.”
Randy turned around. Lucy
expected him to tear himself loose from her arms and run to his father. Instead, she felt him stiffen.
“Dad?” he said uncertainly.
“It’s me, son,” Jim replied. He held his arms out to Randy, but Randy only shrank closer to his mother.
“Don’t make me go back there,” he said. “Please don’t make me go back there.”
As she listened to Randy’s words, Lucy felt a chill. So that was why Jim had not shared in her happiness. All along, while he was pretending to help her, pretending to be worried about Randy, it had been a lie. All along, he had been the one. She’d been right. Right from the start, she’d been correct to suspect him. Fury rose in her, and she stood up to face Jim Corliss, but before she could speak, he came over and put his hands on her shoulders.
“Don’t say it,” he begged. “I know what you’re going to say, and I know you’ll regret it later. It’s not over, Lucy. I don’t know any more about it than you, but I know it’s not over. That’s what Bronski told me in the kitchen. He said we don’t know where Randy ran away from.”
“Randy said he ran away from home because he was afraid he was going to die.”
“No, I didn’t, Mom,” Randy said His parents looked down at him. “I ran away from the Academy. The one Daddy sent me to.”
Jim looked steadily into Lucy’s eyes. “I swear I don’t know what he’s talking about, Lucy.”
As they drove home Lucy wondered whether to believe him or not. She wanted to. God, how she wanted to. But could she?
The printer was spewing out the last of the computations Sally had ordered when the knock came at the door opening into the corridor. Mark Malone glanced at Sally, whose eyes filled with sudden fear.
“Who is it?” he called.
“Dr. Malone, is that you?” a woman’s uncertain voice answered.
Malone moved toward the door and opened it “If’s me.”
The nurse smiled in relief. “Thank God. I saw the light under your door and was afraid someone might have broken in.” She glanced into the office, recognizing Sally. “Why, hello, Mrs. Montgomery. Are you looking for Jason?”
“Jason?” Sally asked in surprise.
If the nurse noticed Sally’s blankness, she gave no sign. “He’s in Dr. Wiseman’s office with your husband.”
“I—what—?”
But before she could say anything else, Mark Malone held up a warning hand. “Thank you,” he said to the nurse. “Mrs. Montgomery and I were just discussing the problem.” Then, without waiting for the nurse to reply, he closed the door. He turned to Sally, whose expression of surprise had turned to one of worry.
“Jason and Steve are here? But why?”
“I don’t know,” Malone said. “But I don’t think we’d better wait around to find out. Someone’s sure to tell Wiseman you’re here.” He began stuffing his briefcase with the printouts. “Shut that thing off, and let’s get out of here.”
Sally switched the terminal off, stood up, and began gathering her things together. Malone had already opened the door to the parking lot, waiting for her. And then, as she started across the room, Sally stopped. “I can’t go.”
Malone stared at her. “Sally, we’ve got to”
But Sally was shaking her head. “I can’t go. Jason’s here, and I have to find out why,”
“Sally—”
“Mark, you have all the data. Take it and go.” She looked up at him imploringly. “Mark, he’s my son. If something’s wrong, I’ve got to be with him. Don’t you see?”
Malone’s mind raced, and he came to a quick decision. “I’ll go with you,” he said. He closed the outside door and moved toward Sally, who took a step back.
“No. Take those printouts and go back to Lucy’s. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
“If Wiseman gets his hands on you, you might not get back at all,” Malone said, his voice tight. He patted the briefcase. “And right now we need you to lead us through all this. Come on.”
Taking her by the arm, he led her out of his office and through the corridors to Arthur Wiseman’s waiting room. There, sitting on a chair leafing through a magazine, was Jason. He looked up and grinned.
“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dr. Malone.”
Sally dropped to her knees and hugged the boy. “Honey, what are you doing here? Are you all right?”
“I’m okay,” Jason said, wriggling free of the embrace.
“Then what are you doing here?”
Jason did his best to explain what had happened. “So Dr. Wiseman told Dad to bring me down, and he took some of my blood, and I think he wants me to go somewhere else.”
“Somewhere else?” Sally breathed.
Jason looked guilty. “I put my ear against the door and listened,” he admitted. “He wants me to go somewhere for ob—” He frowned, then remembered the word. “Observation.”
Sally looked up at Malone. “I don’t understand—”
“Don’t you? I think maybe I do.” He reached down and swung Jason up off the chair. “How’d you like to go for a ride with your mother and me, sport?”
“Where?”
“Over to visit some friends.” He started out of the waiting room, speaking to Sally over his shoulder, “Come on.”
With an uncertain glance at the closed door leading to Dr. Wiseman’s inner office, Sally followed.
Chapter 25
“THEN IT’S SETTLED,” Arthur Wiseman said. He stood up, stretched, and came around to lean on the edge of his desk. “CHILD has the best children’s diagnostic clinic in the country. If they can’t find out what’s going on with Jason, nobody can. Now, it seems to me that we might as well keep the boy here tonight and send him to Boston in the morning.”
But Steve was still not quite sure. “Can’t he stay home tonight? It seems to me—”
“And it seems to me,” Wiseman interrupted emphatically, “that you have quite enough to worry about tonight.”
“But there’s nothing really wrong with him.”
“So it would appear,” Wiseman agreed. “But appearances can be deceiving.” His voice dropped slightly. “Don’t forget Julie.”
At mention of his daughter’s name, the last of Steve’s resistance crumbled. He rose to his feet and went to the door, opening it. “Jason?”
The waiting room was empty. “Jason?” he repeated, more loudly this time. Then Wiseman was beside him.
“He probably got bored and went to the emergency room,” the older man suggested.
But when they got to the emergency room, it, too, was empty, with only the duty nurse sitting placidly at her desk.
“Did Jason Montgomery come through here?” Wiseman asked.
The nurse shook her head. “I haven’t seen him. Maybe he’s in Dr. Malone’s office.”
“Malone? Is he here?”
Now the nurse’s smile faded into an uncertain frown. “Of course. Didn’t you see him? He and Mrs. Montgomery—”
“Mrs. Montgomery!” Wiseman flared. Blood rushed into his face as sudden fury raged through him. “I gave orders that if anybody—anybody—saw Mrs. Montgomery, I was to be notified immediately.”
The nurse trembled under his wrath. “I—I’m sorry, Dr. Wiseman,” she stammered. “I didn’t know. No one told me when I came on shift, and—” But she was talking to an empty room. Wiseman, followed by Steve Montgomery, was striding down the hall toward Malone’s office.
It, too, was empty.
The two men stood silently for a moment, and it was Steve Montgomery who at last spoke, his voice quiet, defeated. “I don’t get it.”
“Neither do I,” Wiseman replied tightly. “But it seems that Sally must have convinced Malone that there’s something to her fantasies.”
And suddenly Steve knew exactly where his wife had gone. “Lucy Corliss,” he said. “They’re with Lucy Corliss.” He started through Malone’s office. “Come on.”
“Wait a minute,” Wiseman said. Steve turned to face him. “What are you going to do?”
&nb
sp; “I’m going to get my wife and son!”
“And if Sally doesn’t want to go with you?”
“She has to—I’m her husband!”
“Think, Steve. She doesn’t trust you, and she doesn’t trust me. Apparently, she only trusts this Corliss woman, and maybe Mark Malone. Nor does she have to do anything she doesn’t want to. You can’t barge in there and drag her out, even if you think it’s for her own good.”
Steve’s shoulders slumped; suddenly he felt exhausted—exhausted and frustrated. “But I have to do something,” he said at last “I can’t just let her take Jason, let things go. I can’t …”
“For now,” Wiseman said softly, “there isn’t anything else you can do. Wait until morning, Steve.” He led the unhappy man back to his own office, where he opened his drug cabinet, shook four tablets out of a bottle and into an envelope, and handed it to Steve. “Go home and try to get some sleep. If you need to, take these. And stop worrying—Mark Malone is a good man. He won’t let anything happen to either Sally or Jason. Then, tomorrow, if she hasn’t come home, we’ll take whatever action is necessary to protect her.”
Steve Montgomery, his mind whirling with conflicting doubts and emotions, made his way out into the night.
“But why did you go with that woman?” Lucy asked for the third time. Once again, Randy repeated his answer.
“She said Daddy sent her. They said Daddy was on a trip, and when he got back, he’d come and visit me.”
“But I haven’t been anywhere, son,” Jim Corliss told the little boy. “Ever since the day you disappeared, I’ve been right here, trying to help your mother find you.”
Randy’s expression reflected his uncertainty. He turned to his mother.
“It’s true, darling,” she assured him. “He hasn’t been on a trip at all.”
“And I’m not going to die?” Randy asked, his voice quavering.
Lucy gathered him into her arms. “Of course you’re not going to die,” she whispered. “You’re a very healthy little boy, and there’s no reason on earth for you to die.” And yet, as she recalled the strange story he’d related, she wondered.
Nothing about the Academy sounded right. It didn’t sound like a school to her, at least not a school she’d ever heard of.
