Alex started to rise from his chair. Before he could do so, there was the sound of someone running down the hallway outside and a moment later a loud rap on the door.
"Come in,” Homlin said, turning back to his desk.
Lenny, Alex's second officer in charge of the guards, burst through the door. One look at his face raised the hackles on the back of Homlin's neck. Now what had happened? He was only seconds from finding out.
"I'm sorry to barge in like this . . ."
"What is it?" Homlin interrupted him.
"There's been some trouble on the southwest quadrant of the grounds,” Lenny replied, staring nervously at his two superiors.
"What kind of trouble?" Homlin asked as he flipped the ashes from his cigar.
"One of our men caught a poacher,” Lenny continued.
Homlin relaxed at the news. He continued to his desk and sat down.
“Okay,” he said in a more relaxed manner. "That's not so bad. You know what the procedure is for poachers, don't you?"
“Yes,” Lenny replied. “I know but I’m afraid one of the men panicked. The poacher was shot and killed."
“What!” Homlin and Alex shot out of their chairs as though pulled by the same string. "You've got to be kidding. You can't mean to tell me after all the warnings I've given your men, that one of them had the nerve to disobey me."
Homlin felt the veins in his neck bulge and his face grow suddenly warm. "Of all the stupid, avoidable accidents..." Homlin struggled to find the words to express his anger.
"Who was the poacher, do you know?" Alex asked.
"Yes. His ID was recovered. His name is Daniel MacMillan."
Daniel MacMillan? Homlin searched through his memory. He didn't know a MacMillan. He turned and glared at Alex.
"Well?"
"The name sounds familiar yet it doesn't quite fit,” Alex replied. "MacMillan? I know of a MacMillan but his first name isn't Daniel. Wait a minute." Alex turned to his second in command.
"Was he wearing an old blue cap with some trucking emblem on it?" Alex asked as Homlin paced back and forth between the desk and the window.
"Yes, that's right,” Lenny replied.
Alex let out a big sigh. "I don't think this is going to be as bad as it looks." He glanced first to Lenny and then to Homlin.
"Why not?" Homlin and Lenny asked at the same time.
"Well, I happen to know about our poacher. He's a no-count drifter. Seldom has a steady job. Drinks like a fish. It's not unusual for him to go on benders all the time. Might disappear for months on end. No one will be surprised if he suddenly disappears. Hell, I doubt anyone will even notice."
Homlin considered what Alex had said. He chewed on the half smoked cigar like it was meant for eating rather than smoking. "Are you sure?"
"I'll go down and verify who he is,” Alex said. "But if he's who it sounds like, yes, I'm sure. No one will miss him."
Homlin continued to chew on the cigar. Finally he replied, “Okay. Go check it out and let me know for sure. Then I want you to pull everyone together. I'm going to get the point across once and for all. I'm not going to have our entire mission jeopardized by some trigger-happy idiot. And I want you to get a message to your two 'experts.' Under no circumstance are they to touch a hair on Vogt's head. They are simply to watch her and report all actions to me. Is that clear?"
Alex nodded. "Very clear." He rose from his chair. "I'll take care of it right away."
After the two men left, Homlin sat behind his desk and considered the situation. Everything would be fine if only he didn't have to depend on such idiots to get the job done.
Then he smiled as he lit his cigar and blew a new cloud of smoke. Not much longer, he thought. Soon, the most critical part of his job would be accomplished and he could relax. Then he would be able to give Alex the treat he so much longed for. Maybe he would arrange to watch the fun.
Homlin's Home
Saturday, Nov. 27
Pat pulled off the road onto the narrow driveway and found the road blocked by a formidable wrought iron gate. It’s about time I get a look beyond that gate, she thought. Homlin had managed to put her and Allan off several times, offering various excuses, but once again her persistence — some might call it stubbornness — had paid off. A guard stepped out from the small house next to the gate and walked up to the jeep.
"Hi. I'm Pat Vogt and this is Dr. Allan Pritchard. We have a two o'clock appointment with Dr. Homlin."
"May I see your driver's license? Both of them,” the guard replied coldly.
Allan and Pat glanced at each other as they pulled their licenses out and passed them to the guard who studied them carefully before passing them back.
"Drive straight to the house. It's .6 miles from here. Do not stop along the way for any reason. Drive fifteen miles per hour. No faster or slower. They will be expecting you. Is that understood?"
"Oh yes, quite well. You have a nice day now,” Pat answered sweetly.
As the gate opened, she threw the jeep in gear and slammed her foot down on the gas pedal. The rear wheels kicked stones in all directions as they fought for traction. The jeep leaped ahead, passing fifteen miles per hour in the first few seconds.
Pat turned to Allan. "Did he say fifty miles per hour? That seems a little fast on such a narrow road." But she kept her foot to the floor.
Allan grabbed instinctively for the handhold above his head and smiled nervously.
They arrived at Homlin's home in less than a minute. Pat waited until the last second before slamming on the brakes. The jeep squealed to a stop in a cloud of dust and burning rubber, inches from the front porch. The front door burst open and four large men poured out onto the porch, automatic rifles and revolvers in their hands.
"Well, what a warm reception,” Pat said as she undid her seat belt and opened her door. She started walking towards the house, then stopped to look back at Allan who continued to sit in the jeep, grasping the strap over his head. Pat walked around to his side and opened the door.
"Relax, Allan. I promise not to get us killed. I just want to play with them for a little while." She'd already proven her point. Dr. Homlin had something to hide. No one had so much security just for the fun of it. The question was, what was he hiding?
As she walked towards the house, she held her hands high in the air. "Don't shoot, don't shoot. It's just us. The guard said at the gate that we should go exactly fifty miles per hour until we got to the house. I thought it was a bit too fast, but who am I to argue with house rules?"
As she passed one of the guards standing on the first step of the porch, she lowered her hands and patted the automatic rifle he held in his hand. "Nice pea shooter you have there, Charlie. Do you know how to use it?"
Allan slowly exited the jeep, a sheepish grin still on his face. "Hello boys. No hard feelings, huh?"
When no one responded, he stepped up his pace and caught up with Pat.
"Take it easy, will you? You're not making any friends at the moment."
“You wouldn't want these gorillas as friends, anyway,” Pat answered loud enough for the "gorilla" holding the door to hear.
As they entered the foyer, they were met by the man who Pat had first confronted at the ball game walking down the wide, spiral staircase that led to the second floor. Quite a place Homlin has here, Pat thought as she smiled politely.
"Ms. Vogt and Dr. Pritchard. How nice of you to pay us a visit. Dr. Homlin is on a long distance call at the moment. He'll be with you in a few minutes. In the meantime, if you'd like to step into his study..." He pointed to a set of double doors to the right.
Pat and Allan nodded and entered the study that had apparently been a sitting room in its former life as a game reserve. The room was large and spacious. Lining three walls were bookcases from floor to ceiling. Most of the fourth wall was taken up by a large picture window lined with heavy drapes that could be pulled shut to exclude all light. At the moment the drapes were open letting in the breathtaking v
iew of the game reserve forest. Visible through the trees was a large lake.
"Could I fix you a drink while you wait?" The bodyguard asked with more manners than it seemed natural for him. Obviously Homlin has instructed him to be on his best behavior, Pat thought.
"Do you happen to have lemonade?” Pat asked with a flutter of her eyelashes. "Why yes, uhh, in the kitchen,” the temporary host answered. "I'll go see if I can find it."
Pat nodded and watched as he left the room. As soon as the door closed behind him, she was in motion prowling around the room like a bloodhound on a hot trail.
"What are you doing?" Allan asked, a note of surprise in his voice.
"I'm just checking out Homlin's interest in reading material. The books in a person's library often says a lot about them." She continued to study the shelves of books.
After a few moments, she seemed to lose interest in the study and walked over to the window. "Well, what's the verdict?" Allan asked as he picked up a book at random from one of the shelves.
"If he's read all these books, he's very well read,” she answered. "There doesn't seem to be a particular pattern which is unusual. Most people have one or two favorite subjects or types of books they read and collect. Homlin doesn't. There is a high concentration of classics but they span the entire Dewey Decimal System in subject. The fiction is just as varied."
After a few more minutes of gazing out the window, she turned with a puzzled look on her face. "What do you think is out there?"
"What do you mean?"
"Out there." She pointed out the window. "In the game preserve? Our instructions were to not stop on the road. I dare say if we had been more than a minute or so late, we'd have been quickly sought out. What is out there that Homlin doesn't want us to see?"
"It's the rules,” came a voice from the study doorway. Homlin stepped into the room, a smile on his face that sent a cold shiver down Pat's neck.
"I hired this protection agency after I received some threatening phone calls. My research is controversial as I'm sure you are aware if you read the paper. The agency agreed to protect me only if I followed their rules. Coming straight to the house at fifteen miles per hour is one of the rules. That's all."
Homlin gazed first at Pat and then at Allan as though checking to see if they were buying his explanation. As he spoke he strolled over to the overstuffed leather upholstered chair and motioned them to a matching sofa.
"Your drinks will be here in a moment. I apologize for not being available to welcome you personally but it was an important call I've been waiting for all morning. To answer the question you were posing, I have maintained and added to the game preserve. What is out there . . . " He waved one arm in the direction of the picture window. " . . . is game. Quite an assortment of game, both indigenous to the region and some that are not, but they do well in this climate. I have a strong interest in preserving nature, especially the endangered wild animals. How about you, Ms. Vogt? It seems I've met you somewhere before. I was wondering if it could have been at some meeting on wildlife preservation?"
"No, I doubt it,” Pat replied. "I've only a passing interest in it. Like many people, I'm an avid animal lover, but I'm not what you'd call an animal activist."
"Strange. I seldom forget a face, particularly such a charming one. Do I not ring a similar bell with you?" Homlin stared intently at Pat as she replied.
"No, I'm quite sure I've never met you,” she replied with a casual shrug of her shoulder. "I am also very good at remembering faces and names." But as she smiled sweetly back at their host, she felt a strange feeling that she was lying even to herself. She had never met this man and yet at the same time there was something strangely familiar about him. But what?
"Have you lived in these parts long?" Homlin continued to question her but before she could answer, Homlin's bodyguard entered with their drinks. She waited until he was finished serving before answering.
“No, actually I'm visiting for the first time,” Pat said and was relieved when Allan gave no indication otherwise. "So, unless you spend a lot of time in Charlotte, I'm afraid we've never met."
"Well, it's really not important,” Homlin answered, but Pat was unconvinced by the statement. Homlin was not the type of man to ask such questions if they were not important. Something about Pat troubled him almost as much as he troubled her.
With that statement, Homlin turned his attention to Allan for a few moments, asking polite questions as though to cover up the fact that it was really only Pat that he was interested in. After a few minutes, he turned the conversation to a more general direction. Each time Pat tried to ask anything about his research at Biogentrix, Homlin deftly sidestepped the question. After forty-five minutes, Pat knew little more about Homlin or his company.
He's good, Pat thought. He's as slippery as I've seen when it comes to giving away information. I'm damn good at prying people open, but he's as tight a clam as I've ever run into. Whatever I find out won't come directly from him.
Finally, Homlin glanced at his watch. "Oh, I'm sorry to have to cut this pleasant visit off so abruptly, but I'm expecting another important phone call in just a few minutes. It's likely to take quite some time so I'm afraid I'll have to say adieu for now. Alex will escort you to your car." He nodded to his bodyguard who had been standing quietly in the shadows and who now stepped forward.
Homlin shook Allan's hand then walked over to Pat. Taking her hand in his, he gazed intently into her eyes. Still holding her hand, he said, "It was a pleasure to see you again, Ms. Vogt. It may be that we have never met, but I trust this won't be the last time we see each other."
Pat forced a smile and a flicker of her long lashes, meanwhile fighting back a shiver. Homlin's hand felt like the appendage of a cold carcass laid out in some mildewy morgue. She turned to leave, then noticed Allan holding onto the banister of the staircase, staring at something above them.
“What’s up,” she whispered as she nodded in the direction he was looking.
“Oh…nothing,” he replied, but continued looking towards the top of the stairs. “I just thought I…but it couldn’t be.” Noticing he was drawing unwanted attention to himself, he turned back to the group. “Very nice place you have here…very nice indeed.”
Homlin bowed out, leaving them to Alex's care. He reminded them again to leave directly traveling at fifteen miles per hour this time, not fifty. Pat promised she would and surprised herself by keeping her promise.
Alex watched the jeep pull slowly out of the drive. As it turned the first bend he heard Homlin's voice over the intercom paging him to his office.
He entered the upstairs office. Homlin stood there gazing out the window at the path the jeep had recently traveled.
"I want you to put a couple of your best men on her,” Homlin said without turning to look at Alex.
"You still think she might remember you?" Alex asked.
"I don't know for sure. I doubt it but I can't take any chances. She almost had me convinced but then she lied. She's been in these parts at least once before and there is no way in hell she could have forgotten it. Watch her closely. Let me know if she does anything out of the ordinary. If she starts snooping around Biogentrix, I'll just have to have her killed. It's that simple."
Alex nodded. If such an order was issued, he'd make sure he handled it himself. He'd enjoy snuffing the bitch out. He could have a lot of fun with such a fox before he finally did her in. A lot of fun.
They were almost back to Allan’s house when Pat reached over and patted his leg. “What’s up?” she asked.
“Humm…nothing,” Allan replied. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you’ve not said three words in the last fifteen minutes. It’s unlike you,” Pat replied. “What did you see back there?”
Allan thought about the question for a moment before replying. “I’m not sure. I mean it’s crazy, and I just caught a glimpse, and then it was gone.”
“What was gone?”
“Well, if
I didn’t know better, I’d say it was…” He hesitated again. “…I think I saw TJ.”
“Your son…I mean…you know what I mean,” Pat replied, glancing at him.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. But he was older…much older than I’d expect him to be. I mean, it’s only been a week or two since he disappeared.”
“What do you make of it?” Pat asked.
“I don’t know what to make of it.” Allan shrugged. “It appears he may have found a new home with Homlin.” He made a face, as though just saying the words left a bad taste in his mouth.
After another minute, Pat asked, “Are you okay?”
“I’m not sure,” Allan replied, but he was sure — sure that he was not okay with Homlin raising his son. Not okay at all.
FDA Approval
Tuesday, Nov. 30
"I'm sorry to disturb you Dr. Pritchard, but Bo Rawlins is out here to see you." Dawn's voice just barely hid her agitation. "He insists on seeing you."
"Sure Dawn. Ask him to step on back here. I'm just finishing up on some records,” Allan replied with a smile. Dawn was the best receptionist he could ever want, except when it came to Bo. Well, no one is perfect, he thought.
Bo pushed the partially closed door open, knocking lightly as he did. "Hope I'm not disturbing you too much,” he said as he entered the room, his hunting cap firmly gripped in his hands.
"No, not at all. It's good to see you again. Had any luck hunting lately?" Allan closed the record in front of him and sat back in his chair, motioning to the chair next to the desk for Bo.
Bo sat down, shaking his head. "No, not much luck of late. It's kind of what I've come to talk to you about though." Bo twisted his cap between his hands.
FreeForm: An Alien Invasion Romance Series (FreeForm Series Book 1) Page 14
