Vanessa

by David Howells

Chapter 11 – FRANK and ALLEN

  Gustav felt it was time to change venues and so, after a pregnant pause, cleared his throat. “Sorry to jump in like this, but it is time dependent that I do so. Allen, I have taken the liberty of contacting the Dean of your college (doing so at 7:00AM took clout and connections; fortunately Gustav had both and some to spare) and arranging a leave of absence for a semester. That is, of course, your decision, but it is there if you choose. All you have to do is call the registrar and give her the word, or let me know and I’ll take care of it as your legal representative. Rachel, I regret that I cannot be of similar service to you. It is our intention to travel to Georgia today and possibly implement some of the ideas you two have been good enough to offer. We want you both to accompany us. We need your help and so do the others you have heard about. Rachel, it would mean time away from Frank and your stepchildren until Sunday. Sorry to hit you with this on the fly. We plan on leaving within the hour. You may be able to join us later, but personally, I hope you will find your way clear to keeping the company whole.”

  Rachel simply said that it was all arranged, but said no more regarding the previous night when she borrowed her son’s SatCom and had called Frank.

  “Hello, Frank?”

  “Rachael, it’s about time you called! Didn’t you think that we would be worried? Why didn’t you call earlier? You know I wouldn’t have done that to you. Well, what are you waiting for? Why aren’t you saying anything?”

  Not a word of interest in what it was she had been through, just a long dump on how he was inconvenienced, worried, how he ‘wouldn’t have done such a thing’. She might have been laid up from an accident or kidnapped or something for all he knew, but it didn’t sound like her welfare topped Frank’s priority list. She thought, “Why didn’t he ask how I was feeling, or if I was all right? He had the number of the office and he has Allen’s SatCom number. He could have called if it was all that important.”

  In the space of five-seconds-worth-of-pause after Frank’s demand for an apology, Rachel had gone from undecided to firmly decided. “Gee, Frank, I am really touched by your concern over what I’ve been through in the past 24 hours.”

  “Now just a...”

  “SHUT UP, Frank. You’ve had your chance to demonstrate loving concern and you blew it. All you could think about was how this all has affected you and not an ounce about me, about what has happened to me. Now hear this you classic-music loving, self-absorbed, Guinness Stout drinking, unsympathetic husband of mine. I’m not coming home for a week, possibly two (Angel didn’t like that deviation from the true time frame, but Cat didn’t mind). There are important things to resolve here and that’s what I am going to do. That will give you time to pull your cranium out from where the sun don’t shine, and I’ll have some time to do something more important than I have ever done before. I am your wife, NOT your property, child, or puppy dog. I am someone with a life of her own who chose to share it with someone who SAID he would support and encourage me. Mr. Gladstone, you are a good man who needs some time to get his act together if we are going to continue to be a viable team. I will check in with you and let you know how I am doing and I really hope by then you will actually find it of interest to you. Got it, buster?” Allen isn’t the only one, she thought, who could find a backbone. Felt pretty good. Patriarchy sucks.

  “OK, Honey, feel better now?” Strike one.

  “All I was saying was that I was upset when you didn’t call for so long. Maybe I didn’t come across right, but I was concerned.” Ball one, even count.

  “I didn’t call you because there was just too much going on here with the kids’ school work and extracurricular activities, and Jack and Benny were over for bridge night. You knew it was bridge night, right?” Tried for it but bad hit. Foul ball, the count is one and two.

  “You said that we are a team, and you were right in saying that I promised to encourage you. OK, whatever it is that you are involved with has to be pretty important to you. When you’re ready to tell me about it, then you will, and I want to listen to the whole experience.” Not bad, ball two, even count again.

  Rachel cooled down. “OK, Frank, sorry I got a little testy. If you only knew what Allen and I went through today, you’d understand. Some of it I can tell you, but some of it is, privileged business information that deals only with Allen, er, even I’m not privy to it. So, anything happening with the kids?”

  “No, got them tucked in and snoozing. School tomorrow, so I’ll just go back to single daddying it until you get back. Look, don’t worry. I did it for a couple of years before you came along. I married you because I love you, not because I needed a nanny.”

  Her inner Referee was watching game carefully. Silently, “You’re getting better, Hubby. Full count, three and two. Let’s see if you can walk me to first base, Baby.”

  “Now, you just get yourself some beauty rest, and whatever has your attention for now is OK with me.” Iffy. You may want to call in a pinch hitter.

  “Tomorrow’s a big day for both of us. Let me know how you and Allen are doing.” There’s the wind up. “Your home is here waiting for you when you return.” There’s the pitch. “Besides, we would love a home-cooked meal.” And that retires the batter and the side, Yankees go down in flames.

  “Good night, Frank,” Rachel said in a flat voice.

  “Did I say something wrong?” Rachel didn’t hear the last question, as she had already closed the connection. Frank didn’t call back. He knew that, when Rachel got into one of her snits, it was best to let her get it out of her system on her own. Women were so hard to understand. His first wife was, too. “Aliens, every one of them.”

  Rachel sat there with mixed emotions. She had finally unleashed a lot of stored up tension at the object of her irritation. That felt good. She had sandblasted a good man whom she had taken vows with, and that felt bad. Rachel closed her eyes to check. Yes, there they were in full swing. Angel and Cat were going at it claw and feather. Referee had given up and gone to bed.

  There was an image that returned to haunt her; ‘Yankees go down in flames.’ It brought her back to their mission. Wasn’t that what they were working for, or rather against? This situation with Annie and the Yankees was unique, according to Ryan. He had never seen anything like it. Was this an aberration or might this be an actual closet of Hell where punishment was being meted out according to biblical weights and measures? Could they, just possibly, be going against Satan himself, or possibly the Judgment of God? Her mental parliament suddenly became very quiet. Cat’s tail was bottle-brushed from a case of the willies. Angel had turned sheet white.

  Gustav and Ryan were impressed with Rachel’s committing to the program. Marianne had expected it. She always felt justified with doing less than scrupulous things when they resulted in her having foreknowledge. She had ‘accidentally’ overheard last night’s phone conversation by having her door cracked open and kneeling next to the opening with her hand cupped behind her ear. She wasn’t nosey; she just liked getting information from the horse’s mouth. ‘Curiosity killed the cat, satisfaction brought her back,’ was a fond saying.

  “Not much time to pack, people,” said Allen.

  Gustav reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope. He handed one card to Allen, then one to Rachel. “The rest of us have our own. When we get there, you’ll have an opportunity to shop for what you need.” He looked at his watch. “Time to move, everyone. Limo’s waiting (what else is new, the rest thought). We’ll be flying out of Stewart, so it’ll be a short drive and we don’t have anything to check in. Plenty of time as long as we don’t dilly-dally around here.”

  “He’s such a mother hen. Ryan, Love, I’ve been watching Allen. He’s got something up his sleeve. I’m able to read him a little.”

  Ryan had suspected something, also. There was smugness in Allen’s face. Ryan was getting to like his protég�
�, a lot, and it wouldn’t do to have him feel over-scrutinized. Let him have his little game. It’s a friendly field.

  The ride down to Stewart Airport was uneventful. Details of Hawthorn Enterprises were gone over: holdings, stocks, inventory, receivables and the rest. Rachel had known that her first husband’s work had involved quite a spectrum of interests, including a couple of retirement villages. She found out that things had grown since then. There were eight specialty condo-villages, each one catering to a specific demographic: single parents, cat owners, dog owners, musicians, high IQ’ers, athletes, fat people and sports nuts. Ryan had to have had a hand in naming them, cornball that the titles were. Still they were successful ventures and other firms were following his example. They were, respectively: “Split Levels” (there was an agreement with a neighboring condo system to receive pairs of Split Levelers that got themselves joined together), “Kitty Kondo’s” (with road names like Sylvester Street, Angora Ave. and Catnip Circle), Dog Town (motto: “A Woof Over Your Head”), Note Worthy Residences (each main building specialized in a type of music, including C and W, classic rock, progressive rock, R and B, and misc.), ThinkTanks (built on a sizable mountain in the Cascades which had been dubbed the ‘Mind over Matterhorn’), Olympus (each quad had an up-to-date mini-gym, the main building had everything from health foods to a resident Olympic medalist that managed the building and was available for advice and inspiration), Maine Course (in Bangor, naturally, with on-site dining and reinforced furniture, stairs, industrial grade quality for both elevators and toilets), and Armchair Acres (big screen TVs in each condo, megascreen with surround-sound in the community rooms, and a sports research library that listed full recordings of just about any game played any time by anybody).

  Rachel had noticed Allen’s odd, quirky behavior today, too. She didn’t just suspect - she knew he was up to something. After all, she was the mother whom her son could never fool with illness excuses when there was a test at school. They boarded the plane, first class. Allen had been at the mercy of his elders yesterday. It was ‘boy wonder’s’ payback time and he was loaded for bear, as the saying goes. He smirked. “Mr. Fitzgalen, you are dog-meat.”

  First class was sparsely peopled today. Gustav had been able to isolate his group into the right rear corner of the section. The nine other first class passengers were in other sections, allowing at least some privacy. Their section had the seats in a semi-circle. It was a popular thing the airlines were doing to encourage business patronage. It worked, too. They called them ‘executive islands’ on the birds recently outfitted with them. Older birds were re-fitted, quickly. It was Marianne who finally spoke up on what the rest had been wondering about.

  “OK, Hotshot, spill it. You’ve been sitting on something and have kept us waiting long enough. Fess up, Allen.”

  “All right. I didn’t have time or connection to finish up, but I should be able to do more once we get to Milledgeville. Where will we be staying?”

  Marianne answered, “A five room suite at a Marriott.”

  “Fine, I should be able to work there. Most of the bigger hotels have the kind of feed lines I need.”

  “Honey, that proves he’s related to you. He likes to hear himself lecture. How does your own medicine taste?”

  Ryan smiled with paternal pride. “Hey perfesser, think you’ll get to the point before we land?”

  “OK, Boss. How’s this for starters? I think I can help identify who Vanessa was in her first life.” Everyone got very quiet and stayed that way. Allen hoped to Heaven he could pull this off. “Look, I can’t guarantee it, but there’s an excellent chance.”

  Ryan began talking to the ‘empty’ space next to him. “Yes, he said, no...now hold on a minute - I’ll ask - YES, DAMMIT, now calm down a minute - I can’t ask when you won’t - WILL YOU BE QUIET FOR ONE DAMNED MINUTE?”

  Two other first class islands were occupied (one, Korean businessmen, the other, American weight-lifting hopefuls) and all eyes in those areas were now on Ryan.

  Allen was reveling in what his mother used to call a ‘Kodak Moment’. He turned to the other first class passengers, smiled and said, “Outpatient. It’s time for his medications.”

  While devoted friends and co-workers ‘raspberried’, Ryan eyed Allen under knitted brows. As decorum began to re-establish itself he said, “One gotcha does not a trophy win, grasshopper. Now, if my mature and considerate colleagues can gather their wits, I want to hear more on this. Keep in mind that we have already done extensive research. Now, oh wise-but-all-too-young-one, what ace do you have up your sleeve? I insist you keep your response as succinct as possible.” There was expectant silence, though rippled with random sighs and eye dabbing. The first-class spectators didn’t find anything more of interest and so returned to their own agendas (ironically, both island groups were arguing over ‘the rise and fall of pounds’).

  Allen fulfilled Ryan’s request for minimum words, smiling from ear to ear. “Mormons.”

  Everyone waited until Ryan felt forced to respond. “Allen, m’lad, I am an old man with little patience. You have followed the word of my law but not the spirit. So now, if you would be so kind, please illuminate your thoughts on this matter, balancing verbosity and clarity, so that this old dinosaur with his feeble faculties can understand.”

  “Dearest one, kindly shut your yap and let Allen continue, won’t you?”

  “OK, you’ve all heard about Mormons, right? Some call them a cult, others just another branch under the general umbrella of Christianity. Mormons feel that Joseph Smith was the follow-up act to Jesus, the Christ. Besides some early interesting views on polygamy that earned them no small degree of notoriety in their earlier years, they also made some interpretations of the Bible worth thinking about. What is important to us is that they have had a mania for genealogy. In the mid-twentieth century they began to convert their information paper-pool over to computer, welcoming anyone, Mormon or not, to use their growing database for personal research. Each guest user would add their own genealogy information to the ever-growing main database. The system’s capacity has increased with technology. Three-dimensional computer visuals have been around since the late twentieth century and that, too, has made immense advances that have been incorporated into the Mormon database. Now, you scan in a picture or enter in a description of a person and the system will scan for matches. With all the unlabeled pictures people have in their attics, this encouraged hundreds of thousands of inquiries. Eventually the Mormons had to require some nominal charges for the use of their system. Even with such small fees, the sheer numbers of users financially enabled the Mormons to expand the system to the point where the primary facility in Salt Lake City, Utah, occupies two city blocks. It is one of the biggest research facilities in the world. I downloaded from the main Mormon genealogy center last night. Couldn’t sleep for a while, so I passed the time getting some ideas into motion.”

  All ears listened carefully. Ryan had given up on succinctness as he was finding Allen’s presentation immensely interesting. He had known about Mormon interest in genealogy, but not how extensive, how incredibly vast, their resources were. When Allen had paused to wet his whistle, Ryan talked aside to Gustav about setting up some brainstorming and work schedules once they arrived in the Peach State. While they were talking, a brief exchange occurred that only one of the other team members ever found out about. “No need,” thought Allen.

  Allen hit ‘send’ on his PC, which sent one ‘idea in motion’ to the SatCom in Marianne’s handbag. Rachel wondered if her son had heard the things she had said to Frank, then tried to remember what it was that she HAD said (it had been late and she was fried).

  Marianne had to see what the message on her SatCom had been. It was set on her unlisted frequency, so she shouldn’t be getting any interrupt messages. Looking at her indicator base, she saw that the message was a ‘line of sight’ beamed transmission, which bypassed n
ormal channels of entry. “But, how? Oh, Allen’s PC unit.” There was a beam port aimed right at her. She opened the SatCom cover carefully so as not to attract attention and read: “If you are going to eavesdrop on a private conversation, you might want to take off your shoes. Also, you are welcome to the picture of Melissa. Your perfume smell was on my wallet.”

  Marianne felt her cheeks burn as she slowly closed her SatCom cover. With her head still faced down she looked up with just her eyes. Allen had waited for his target to face him. Marianne gave the barest nod and turned her eyes back down by way of apology. “This one is a lot sharper than his father was, or I’ve lost my touch. Damn.”

  But Marianne was hard to keep down. She went back to her purse and ‘rummaged’. Rachel noticed and thought Marianne was checking tissue supply, and suspected another tearjerker was in the works. In reality, Marianne was using the shorthand finger-pad on her SatCom. Allen saw the receiver light blink and punched up ‘polarized’ mode that only allowed the person directly in front of the PC screen to see what was on it. “Sorry, won’t happen again. Trying to make an honest woman out of me? Are we still a team?” Allen’s smile forgave her, his wink reassured her. The other men were ending their short interchange, never realizing that dynamics of their little group had just permanently changed.

  Vanessa had eavesdropped on the messages, but decided to just keep things to herself.

  “Ryan, may I continue?” Ryan gave the ‘go ahead’ with his right hand. “Last night, I used ‘Vanessa/Mary’s’ picture for a search in the Mormon files. Here’s what I got back.” Removing a readout on Mormon letterhead from his shirt pocket, he handed it to Ryan. There were two responses of high probability matches from Allen’s inquiry. One listed Vanessa Fitzgalen, and the other...

  “Of course, Mary Safford.” said Gustav. “They would be identical twins as far as the data base would be concerned. Wait a minute! Wouldn’t that set off some kind of red flag in their system? Two people can’t be identical and not related. Why wouldn’t they have investigated? Did they investigate? What happened here?” Gustav was getting a little tired of that Cheshire Cat grin on Allen’s face. Ryan was slowly getting used to it. It helped that this smiling cat had been pulling up one prize mouse after another.

  “No, because with the Mormon base, there has to be identical information across the board for a red flag to initiate a findings review. That mainly occurs with accidental duplicate entries, say like two distant relatives who didn’t know they were both accessing the system regarding the same person but are entering a slightly different name spelling. Also, some things can and do change, so forgiveness is programmed in for eye color, hairstyle, and weight variation. There was one significant difference between the Mary of record before she became brain dead and the Vanessa who took over after the transference. By the way, that difference became less critical a defining item within a decade after said transference.

  Everyone else sat there with a perplexed look. Ryan was the first to smile. He might have gotten it eventually, for he had the closest experience with Mary and Vanessa. He didn’t admit to the others that he had gotten by with a little help from his friend.

  “Hey, Lover, have you forgotten our first night together alone?”

  The look on Ryan’s face let Marianne be the second to comprehend. She knew Ryan well, she was a woman, and she was a master of details. “Oooohhh”. Rachel caught the tone and snickered.

  Gustav was unhappily perplexed at everyone else who had a knowing look, thinking, “While I sit here, a lawyer for Christ’s sake, in the goddam dark!” Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore. “I am giving you fair warning of a ‘cruel and unusual punishment’ suit against the present company unless you immediately remand to me the answer you all seem to share, while I sit here stewing in my ignorant juices!”

  Ryan, smiling, said, “Allen, this is your show. Won’t you do ‘the honors’? Gustav, ten dollars says you’re going to kick yourself.”

  “Councilor, for two points...”

  “Ooof!”

  “...what procedure did Mary Safford go to Barnes Hospital in St. Louis, Missouri, to have performed?”

  “Ooooh, he’s going to milk this one nicely. Isn’t it fun when a lawyer gets his own medicine?”

  Comprehension dawned, laced with embarrassment. Gustav’s eyebrows furrowed, then raised as his mouth silently opened, followed by a satisfying (to Allen) scrunching of facial features at how simple the answer was. He then pulled out his wallet and handed a ten-dollar bill over to Ryan, who gleefully pocketed his ill-gotten gain. Later that night, in the hotel, Ryan returned the money in a fit of conscience, confessing to his best friend that Vanessa had cheated and told him the answer. Gustav laughed at that and could only shake his head. “It doesn’t seem possible, Ryan, that two old boobs couldn’t remember two young ones.”

  But Allen wasn’t finished with his revenge, not by a long shot. “There’s more, folks. I’m booting up a program now that will allow Ryan to recreate Vanessa’s true image. It’s used by the police for identifying suspects or victims. I didn’t have the info needed to research Vanessa and, even if Ryan can provide it, there’s the possibility that her previous identity is not in the database. Depends on how long ago she lived and on whether her description or pictures were entered into mass media

  “We’ll get to that in a minute. For grins, I did some more research on the men in the Yankee squad before turning in. There weren’t any direct descendents from Col. Archibald Edwards that survived. I only had two of the Yanks’ names to work with, so it didn’t take long. Major Covington was childless, but private Benjamin Cooper, well...”.

  Allen disabled the privacy polarization mode, then punched up the image of Private Elijah Cooper. The image quality showed that the photograph had been taken with equipment typical of the time. There was a young soldier sitting with a young woman behind him. “The woman is Catherine Cooper, formerly Catherine Periwinkle Haskins. I looked up their descendents and found a great grandchild that could be of immense importance to us.” Allen pushed the advance and the schematic of squares and circles had the highlighting bar drop one level. He did it again, and then one more time. He highlighted then a particular square, and then punched ‘enter’. Allen’s revenge on Ryan was complete. There, on the screen, was the same picture of Ryan that had been on another screen the night before. Even Vanessa was shocked into silence...a rarity. Ryan leaned back in his chair with a stunned look on his face, which didn’t change a lick when he reached into his jacket pocket, took his white handkerchief, attached it to his Cross pen and waved it in the air.

  You couldn’t keep Vanessa agog for long, though. She leaned over to Ryan’s ear, though it was unnecessary as only he could hear her. Still, it was an action that communicated affection and privacy and so seemed right to do. She whispered lovingly to Ryan in a slightly husky voice, “The circle is now complete. Once you were the master and he but the learner. Your powers are weak, old man...(giggle).”

  Ryan may be going down in defeat, but he was going to take the whelp with him. “Gustav, avenge me.” Gustav recovered his own wits enough to hand Allen an envelope. Rachel scooted over next to her son as he opened it, and both gaped at the document.

  “I’m a CEO? ‘Hawthorn Enterprises’?”