Bloodline rj-11

by F. Paul Wilson

  "There, there, darlin," he said, slipping his arms around her and holding her tight against him. "No need to cry. We should be celebratin."

  She looked up at him with a blotchy, tear-streaked face. She wasn't a beauty to begin with, but she looked downright homely now. But looks didn't matter in this case. All that mattered right now was what she was carrying inside her.

  "Celebrating? Ym pregnantl This wasn't supposed to happen!"

  "Look at it this way: It's a miracle."

  "No, it's a mistake, that's what it is. The test's got to be wrong."

  "Yeah, you're probably right."

  But Jeremy knew different. He knew all about pregnancy tests. He'd used them before, lots of them. But that had been pre-Creighton. These new ones were much better and accurate much earlier. Lots fewer false negatives.

  Dawn backed away a step and wiped her face.

  "I'm going down to the drug store and pick up a different kind—no, two different kinds. And then we'll see." Jeremy watched her shake her fists in the air just like he'd done minutes before, but with a different feeling. "I can't believe this!"

  Jeremy kept his voice calm. "Worse things in the world, darlin."

  She stared at him with narrowed eyes. "Hey, wait a minute! Is this the same guy who told me he got a vasectomy because he didn't want to bring kids into this screwed-up world?"

  "Yes, I did. I surely did. And I really and truly felt that way. But all that changed when I met you."

  Her face softened. "Oh… that's so sweet. But I can't be pregnant! I just can't!"

  You are, Dawnie-babes. You are.

  "Maybe not,"" he told her. "But il you are, don't you think it's like a miracle?" She opened her mouth to reply but he rushed on. "I mean, don't you see the hand of god in this?"

  "If you're talking about a virgin birth, I've got news for you—"

  "No, I mean, you believe in god, don't you?"

  He knew she did. Jeremy didn't. At least not in her god.

  "Of course."

  "Well, then, you can almost see his hand in this, can't you. I never wanted to have kids, then I meet you and start wishing I hadn't had a vasectomy because we're so perfect together and you'd make such a great mother, and now look what's happened."

  "I'm not pregnant!" She started crying again. "I can't be! I'm not ready! And then there's the game—"

  He hugged her tighter. "That's the great thing about software, darlin. You can do it from home."

  She pulled away and headed for the stairs.

  "I'm going down to the drugstore. When I get back we'll do it again, and then you'll see."

  No, Dawn. You'll see.

  And then would come the tough part. Once she was convinced she was pregnant he had to work on her to get behind having the baby and want it as much as he did.

  Yeah, well, she'd never want it that much, and he could never ever tell her the whole story—man, would she freak!—but he'd have to convince her how special this baby was going to be.

  That might not be so easy, but hell, she'd bought into everything else he'd told her. Why not that?

  But more important, he had to keep an eye on Dawn, stay with her, watch her every minute. He had to protect the baby.

  4

  "Laurie! A round for the house! On me!"

  Jack had been sitting in Work and sipping a draft pint while pretending to read a copy of Kick. He looked up and glanced around at the sound of Bolton's voice.

  He'd been starting to think he'd been wasting his time, that Bolton would be persona non grata here after the fight, but apparently he wasn't the type to be easily deterred.

  One good way to assuage hard feelings was to buy a round for the house.

  Bolton had a distinctly unhappy-looking Dawn in tow. He spotted Jack on his way by, nodded, but didn't stop. Now he stood surveying the room as the two dozen or so habitues bellied up to the bar for a freebie.

  Jack stayed where he was, watching Dawn. She stood at his side, holding a cola of some sort and looking embarrassed and red-eyed, as if she'd been crying. Trouble in paradise? If so, and if he could find out what it was, maybe—

  "All right, everybody," Bolton said, holding a bottle of Bud aloft. "I want you all to meet my lady, Dawn."

  Dawn's face reddened as the crowd murmured ragged hellos.

  "I just want to let all of you know that today Dawn has made me the happiest man in the world."

  Oh, shit. They're getting married? Christy would—

  "Because today I found out that she's going to make me a daddy!"

  Dawn turned crimson as everyone shouted their congratulations. Jack could only stare at the beaming Bolton as he lifted his glass higher.

  "To Dawn!"

  The crowd echoed the words and drank—all except Jack and Dawn. Her expression said loud and clear that she wasn't into this pregnancy. He had a feeling she'd be even less into it when she learned the father of her baby was her uncle.

  And Christy… if he'd thought she'd go ballistic at the idea of a wedding, she'd be off the charts with the pregnancy, especially when she learned—

  Then he noticed a grinning Bolton coming his way, dragging Dawn by the hand.

  "Hey, Joe? Y'hear?"

  "Sure did." Jack raised his glass and let Bolton clink his against it. "Congrats, man. And to you too, young lady." Dawn only nodded.

  Bolton said, "This here's Joe Henry, darlin. Met him the other day. He's a gamer and a good one too."

  "Pleased to meet you," Jack said. The next words resisted being spoken but Jack forced them out: "With you two as parents you gotta know it's gonna be a beautiful baby."

  Pardon me while I find a shovel.

  "More than beautiful—special. Special in so many, many ways." He pointed to the book lying on the table in front of Jack. "He'll never have to be dissimilated because he'll never be assimilated. A kick-ass Kicker from the git-go."

  Jack tapped the stick figure on the cover. "Right on!"

  "Ain't you finished that yet? You must be a slow reader."

  "I'm studying every word. I can't tell you how much I'm enjoying it."

  Jack glanced at Dawn's midsection. He now understood the "project," the "mission" Bolton had mentioned. Was this the "Key" he'd spoken of?

  He shifted his gaze to Bolton himself and wondered what the hell was going on in his head. Then he finished his beer and rose to his feet.

  "Wish I could hang around for the party, Jerry, but I've got places I've gotta be."

  "Sure I can't buy you another beer?"

  "Have to take a rain check."

  Jack's plan had been to meet up with Bolton here and hang with him in an attempt to find out what he was up to and where he thought he was headed… glean a little more info before his meeting with Christy. The impending-fatherhood announcement had made that unnecessary.

  It also had made Jack dread seeing Christy.

  But he had an important call to make before he met her.

  5

  "Are you on a cell phone?" Levy said when he came on the line.

  Jack leaned against the side of an open booth on Queens Boulevard. It had taken him a long time to find a public phone. They used to be everywhere. Now…

  "I'm in one of the last telephone booths in Queens. Just listen. You know the fellow we're interested in—the one dating the young girl?"

  Levy's tone was cautious. "Yes."

  "Well, she's pregnant, and our friend is the father."

  A pause, then a gasp. "Dear God, if she inherited her mother's…" He seemed to be searching for a code word, a neutral term, anything but oDNA. "Her mother's…"

  "Special sauce?"

  "We're not talking about a hamburger!"

  "In a way, we are."

  An exasperated sigh. "I don't believe this. Very well. If she inherited her mother's special sauce, and that combines with our friend's special sauce, then—"

  "Then we wind up with one hell of a Big Mac."

  "Yes… yes, we do."

&n
bsp; "That's got to be what he's been looking to do all along: create a super sauce."

  "You think this is intentional?"

  "He went looking for this particular girl. What else can I think? This is kind of scary."

  "Yes and no. Here's the thing: The girl might not have inherited her mother's special sauce. You don't inherit a carbon copy of your mother's genome; only half. The other half comes from your father. So there's always a chance the girl is sauce free."

  "Unless, of course, the girl's father was heavy on the sauce."

  "Yes. In that case the odds of inheriting a large portion of the sauce increase dramatically. Dramatically. You must learn who the father was and where we can find him."

  "And if I do?"

  "Then you obtain a sample of his, um, sauce and we find out what we're dealing with."

  "And if I can't?"

  "Then get a sample of the girl's so we can see how much she's carrying. If she missed out, then the experiment was a failure—thank God."

  Something in Levy's tone bothered Jack.

  "You sound upset."

  "I am. There's genetic manipulation going on here—it's old-fashioned, barnyard-style breeding, but genetic manipulation nonetheless—and I want to know why. Someone has a purpose here, and I want to know what it is. Because that special sauce is potentially explosive. It's TNT, which is dangerous enough. But this makes me start to think that someone has spent generations trying to make an atom bomb."

  To blow up what? Jack wondered. Who or what was the target?

  6

  "No!" Christy cried, feeling her heart leap into her throat. "That's not possible!" They sat together on the front seat of her Mercedes, parked along the northern end of Meadow Lake, a peaceful haven hunkered between the roaring ribbons of the LIE, Grand Central Parkway, and the Van Wyck Expressway. Jack had thought it better if he stayed away from her house. He'd said Bolton, and now Dawn, knew what he looked like and either of them seeing him entering or leaving Christy's house would greatly complicate the investigation.

  He'd said he had news, but she never dreamed… Jerry Bethlehem… her half brother? It was crazy! "I'm afraid it's true."

  She studied Jack's face. Was he up to something? Pulling some sort of sleazy scam?

  But no. She sensed genuine reluctance in him. He hadn't wanted to be the one to tell her.

  Her tongue tasted like tin.

  "But… how?"

  "The usual way, I assume."

  Not funny.

  "No, damn it! Where did you find out? How did you find out? And why did you even check?"

  "I knew from my talk with Bethlehem at Work the other day that his father's name was Jonah and that he had one eye."

  That rocked her. One eye… her father had worn an eye patch. At least that was what she'd been told. But millions of people had lost an eye.

  "So?"

  "When I spoke to you yesterday you said your mother told you your father was swallowed by a whale."

  And there it was, smacking her in the face.

  "Oh, God… Jonah."

  He nodded. "Yeah. And since, as I told you, I was looking for some sort of connection between you and Bethlehem, that sent up a bright red flare."

  "But you never said anything."

  "Because I thought it was such a long shot, I didn't dare. Otherwise you'd have been looking at me like you were a moment ago—ready to call the booby squad."

  "But how did you get a sample of—?"

  "You left some hair behind at Julio's."

  "And Bethlehem?"

  "I snagged a spoon from Work."

  She couldn't be certain but he seemed a little less sure of himself than before. Was that true? Could you get a DNA sample from a used spoon?

  "I still can't believe this. Where's the lab report?"

  He looked out the window. "I don't have it."

  "What? Then how do you know?"

  "Verbal confirmation. Hard copy will follow, but that won't help you. The samples are numbered on the report for confidentiality. Some sort of law."

  "Then it could be a mistake."

  It had to be a mistake.

  He looked at her now. "The guy who did the test told me flat-out that the two specimens I gave him came from people with the same father but different mothers."

  Christy closed her eyes and held her breath to keep from sobbing. This was getting worse and worse.

  "How can something like this happen? I mean, what are the odds of my half brother coming to town and just happening to pick up on—?" She jolted upright and stared at him. "Unless he knows! Oh, Jesus, do you think he knows?"

  "I'm almost sure he does. The odds of this happening by accident are astronomical."

  "But why? I knew he was bent, but what possible reason could he have for dating his niece?"

  "It has to be something in your past. And since you don't know Bethlehem, the only thing I can think of is some beef with Dawn's father."

  No-no-no! she thought. Don't go there! Oh, please don't go there!

  "Impossible."

  "He could be getting even for something."

  "By…" The word fucking sprang to mind but she couldn't bring herself to say it, not when it concerned Dawn. "By going with his own niece?"

  "He's a twisted SOB. Who knows what's going on in his head. But the only way I can help you find out is by learning about her father."

  "No!"

  He looked annoyed and she could understand that. But she couldn't tell him.

  "Come on, Christy. Who was he? Was he involved when you disappeared for those weeks?"

  She looked at him. "How did you—?" Then she stopped and nodded. "Oh, right. You're a detective. But you're supposed to be investigating Jerry Bethlehem, not me."

  "Just putting together all the pieces of this jigsaw you handed me. Now… what about those weeks? Was he involved?"

  "Forget it. I don't even want to think about him. It was a terrible—it was the worst time in my life."

  "It was bad for everyone in Atlanta around then. The abortionist assassinations, the—"

  The abortionist assassinations? Why was he bringing them up?

  The missing weeks, the killings, a brother she'd never known existed… too much. Panic blossomed, shutting off her air. Her heart rattled about in her chest, she couldn't breathe, the car was shrinking, closing in on her, pressing Jack closer until—

  She yanked on the door handle, pushed it open, and scrambled out.

  "Christy!"

  "Leave me alone!"

  She stumbled, found her feet, and began to run toward the lake.

  7

  Jack sat frozen, staring as Christy ran thirty or forty yards straight away across the grass to stop by a huge willow. She leaned against the trunk for a few heartbeats, then sank to her knees, sobbing.

  He hopped out and hurried toward her. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a couple of old biddies out walking their dogs stop and stare.

  Had to play it careful here. Didn't want any 911 calls about a domestic dispute going down in public.

  When he reached Christy he squatted close but didn't touch her. He hesitated, unsure of what to say. What was up here? He decided the last thing he should do right now was push.

  "If you don't want to talk about him, you don't have to." He glanced at the two biddies who were still watching. "But whatever you decide, let's get back to the car."

  She wiped her eyes and looked at him, then nodded. Jack rose and held his hand out to her. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. As she and Jack walked side by side to the car, the biddies turned away and continued their stroll.

  Back inside the Mercedes, Jack kept mum as he watched Christy and waited, mentally spurring her to spill. Finally…

  "Why did you mention the Atlanta abortionist assassinations?"

  Jack thought about that and didn't have a ready answer. All her problems revolved around Jeremy Bolton, the assassin, so he supposed it must have been running through his mind. />
  "I… when I was backgrounding you, it was the big story of the times in Atlanta."

  "Well, I had nothing to do with killing anybody."

  Why would she think he'd even consider that?

  "I never thought you did."

  "Yeah, well, for a while there the cops weren't so sure."

  Jack stared at her. "You were a suspect?"

  "I… I was connected to those doctors."

  "Golden and Dalton?"

  "You know their names?"

  "Told you, I've been looking for someone from your past. What about the guy who killed them?"

  She blinked. "Jeremy Bolton?"

  "Now who's got the good memory."

  She loosed a harsh laugh. "Oh, I'll never forget that name. When the cops finally caught him and found no connection between us, they lost all interest in me."

  Jack hesitated. His next question might touch a nerve.

  "You don't have to answer this but I've got to ask: Did you have abortions from the dead docs?"

  She stared straight ahead. "No."

  Something about the change in her tone… was she telling the truth?

  "Being a murder suspect…" He shook his head. "That must be rough. That why you said it was the worst time in your life?"

  "That… and other things."

  "Dawn's father?"

  "He's off-limits."

  Remembering the last time he'd pushed her, Jack backed off.

  "Well, if you change your mind, let me know so I can see where he fits in this puzzle."

  "Believe me, he doesn't fit anywhere."

  "What about the name change? Why did Moonglow Garber become Christy Pickering?"

  "You're really on top of things, aren't you. Pretty damn thorough for so short a time."

  "Just trying to give you your money's worth," Jack said without mentioning that someone else had done all the investigating.

  "Well, the name change is my business."

  "Another secret?"

  She looked at him. "No. Just something I choose not to share."

  Jack nodded. She was wound tight—maybe too tight. He decided to leave out the pregnancy part for now—it wasn't going to affect his course of action and it might drive Christy over the edge.