Runaway Heart (2003)

by Stephen Cannell

  Chapter Thirty-Three.

  The DARPA van was parked almost a block away

  from the Malibu beach house. Captain Silver was asleep on an air mattress next to Pan's cage while a video operator watched a bank of monitors. Captain Pettis was seated in the command chair looking at an infrared shot that focused on the street leading up to the house. They could both smell Pan's dank odor, hear his steady breathing.

  Suddenly, Pettis saw a Chrysler drive up the street and pull into Barbra Streisand's driveway, parking in front of the closed garage door. He turned in the command swivel and tapped Captain Silver on the shoulder. "Got something here."

  Captain Silver woke up from a sound sleep looking fresh and rested. They squinted at the glowing, green infrared image on the monitor.

  Less than a minute later a yellow Toyota Corolla pulled up and parked next to the Chrysler. As a slender Asian woman exited the Toyota, Herman Strockmire heaved his big, wide body out of his car. He lumbered toward the woman, then the two of them appeared to be having some kind of an argument.

  "Gimme her plate," Pettis ordered. The video operator pushed in on the back of the Toyota using his twenty-to-one lens, finally getting it full screen: EKI 154.

  Pettis picked up the phone, dialed DARPA headquarters in Virginia, asked for wants and warrants on California plate EKI 154, and waited.

  Moments later, a man in Virginia was back on the line. "Sandra Toshiabi, 1656 Huntington Avenue, Santa Monica, California. No wants or warrants."

  "Fax me her DL picture," Pettis said as he hung up. He was already entering Sandy Toshiabi's name into the satellite uplink that connected him to the DARPA mainframe databank in Virginia. Herman and Sandy were just deactivating the alarm on the side gate. The video operator chased after them with his zoom lens, moving in tight on the alarm. But Herman's squat frame blocked a clear view of the keypad.

  "Couldn't get the number," the video man said.

  Herman and Sandy went through the gate and closed it. The red light went back on as the alarm reset.

  "Here she comes." Pettis watched as Sandra Toshiabi's DARPA file came up on the screen. "One of our old flames: Doctor of Veterinary Medicine, Committee to Protect Animal Rights, SPCA, Save the Whales, Green Peace, Coalition of Conservationists . . . animal-rights activist." Then her picture came through and showed a pretty Asian woman with black hair and brown eyes.

  "Whatta we do?" Captain Silver asked.

  Pettis responded, "We got the gene map, so I think we should put your DU over the wall and jerk this problem out by the roots. But we first need to get Valdez to sign off."

  "What if Strockmire made a copy of the map?" Silver wondered aloud.

  "If he has one, we'll deal with it later. We've got to contain these people now."

  "You shouldn't have come here," Herman said, still arguing with Sandy as they moved past the Olympic-size pool. "I told you I'd meet you at your place. Why won't you or Susan ever do what I ask?"

  "Because we love you," Sandy grinned. "Besides, what are they gonna do, kill us?"

  "Yeah. That's exactly what they're gonna do." Herman led Sandy into the pool house, turned, and locked the door.

  Sandy watched as he punched numbers on the keypad, then waited for the alarm to beep, indicating it had rearmed itself. "You're really scared, aren't you?"

  "You didn't read the coroner's report on Roland."

  "On the phone, you said it's some kind of hybrid, a chimera?" she said.

  He turned on his computer, found Zimmy's decoded e-mail, then brought it up. "Here's the gene map." He handed her the laptop, and while she scanned the pages of decoded base pairs he gathered up his extra batteries and cords, then stuffed them into his carry case.

  "This is what they're trying to get their hands on?" she said, frowning at the pages.

  "We left a copy of that for them at Carolyn's house. They don't know Zimmy sent this one to my computer."

  "You say this hybrid is 99.1 percent of a human?"

  "That's what the BLAST search indicated."

  "That still doesn't make it human, Herman. To achieve standing in federal court, plaintiffs have to be pure Homo sapiens. Add to that the problem of representation and you're out of luck."

  "Okay, I'll admit I'm not sure about the attorney-client thing yet, but I've got a great theory on how we can bust the shit out of that Homo sapiens restriction. If I'm right, I think I can get legal standing for this chimera. Once we break that barrier, all the others should crumble right behind it. But we can't stand around here and discuss it. They must have this address, so we need to keep moving. I'm gonna file a TRO against DARPA, but I need to collect my casebooks. I still have some legal precedents to research."

  They went into a small bedroom that Herman had been using as an office, then began packing his Shilling Lawyer's Guide and several thick volumes of landmark federal precedents. After he retrieved his black suit, Herman grabbed his toilet kit, and they hurried back into the main room.

  "Once an alarm blows in Malibu, the cops have a four-minute response time," Captain Pettis said over the secure sat-phone. "If Dave and I try to do this with just the two of us we might lose containment."

  Vincent Valdez was on the line from DARPA's L.A. office with General "Buzz" Turpin conferenced in from D.C. When nobody spoke, Pettis continued:

  "This is the same DU that took out the computer thief in San Francisco. He's right here in the van with us. Captain Silver says he's good to go."

  "If you use a Development Unit, make sure he has on the abort-destruct vest," General Turpin said. "If it goes wrong I don't want anything left. And Vince ..."

  "Yes, sir."

  "If you use the DU, make sure it doesn't go nuts and start shredding corpses again. Be sure you two sanitize the crime scene before clearing out this time."

  "Roger that." Pettis clicked off the transmission. "Okay. Just Strockmire and Toshiabi are in there maid's day off. No fuck ups."

  Captain Silver opened the cage, then led the chimera to the front of the van. Pan jumped up on the seat and sat looking out of the windshield. Seeing his intelligent gray eyes, Pettis thought Pan's face and ears were uncannily human, but the rest of him seemed more like a standard chimpanzee. Except for the hands. He had hands exactly like a grown man. On his forehead was a new satellite-transmitter camera unit the size of a quarter, mounted on a white tennis headband.

  "Two people this time," Captain Silver instructed as he picked up the file photo of Herman Strockmire and showed it to the Chimera. Pan reached out, took the photo, then held it up and studied it. Pettis watched, thinking how strange Pan was. Half man, half beast.

  Captain Silver grabbed Sandy Toshiabi's DL picture that had just come off the sat-link, then handed it to Pan. The chimera looked at it and cocked his head.

  "No shredding and no urinating," Silver said. "We've practiced this stuff. You know how to do it, right?"

  Pan reached down onto his arm and typed on the small computer strapped there.

  "Pan understands," the mechanical voice responded from his vest speakers.

  "Good."

  "Get him in the other vest," Pettis said.

  "Is that really necessary?" Captain Silver protested.

  "Direct order from the general. You heard."

  Norman Pettis grabbed the abort-destruct vest and handed it to Pan's trainer, glad that Captain Silver was in the van, because he hated to touch these strange animals. He watched as Dave Silver unbuckled the normal computer clothing, removed it, then put on the slightly bulkier abort vest.

  "Pan, I'm going to give you the knife," Captain Silver said. "You kill these people with the knife. I will also give you a Particle Beam-99. Do not use the PB-99 unless you must. It is only to help you get away if you are trapped."

  Pan fingered his armband, hitting several keys. "Pan understands."

  Silver then handed one of the particle-beam weapons to Pan, who dropped it into a webbed holster on his vest. Silver put leather gloves on Pan's hand
s so he could run on all fours, and handed him a knife. Pettis had once witnessed Pan kill a vicious, attacking Doberman in less than three seconds with the combat knife. He opened the door and let the chimera out of the van.

  The men watched as Pan ran on all fours, streaking across the street, easily vaulting over the alarmed wall and disappearing onto Barbra Streisand's property.

  Chapter Thirty-Four.

  "Where could he have gone?" Susan was standing

  in the main salon of the boat, panic washing over her.

  "If I know Herm, he's not going to quit on this," Jack said. "So where'd he go?"

  "Zimmy sent that gene map to Dad's computer, and the computer is at the beach house."

  "Nah . . . come on, he wouldn't go over there. Your dad's smarter than that."

  "He's ..." she stopped. "He's . . . well I think ..."

  "Streisand's house? You can't be serious. We used her car in Montrose. They'll run the plate and have the beach house completely staked out. Herman might be a tad mistake-prone, but is he a complete bonehead?"

  She glowered at him. "Damn it, Jack, if he needs that gene map to file his lawsuit then he'll go and get it. That's the way he is."

  "How can he file a lawsuit?"

  "Knowing him, he'll come up with something. A temporary restraining order ... use the gene map as proof of the chimera's existence. That's probably gonna be hard to get in as evidence, but Dad is resourceful, and the evidentiary rules are more lax for a TRO. He'll charge that these chimps are having their DNA illegally messed with, then try and get a restraining order to prevent it."

  "What's his cell number?" Jack asked. "I hate calling it, but we gotta stop him from going there."

  "Won't help. I've got his phone." She pulled it out of her purse and showed it to him.

  Jack went to the phone in the salon, picked it up, and pulled out the business card Susan had given him two days ago. He dialed Streisand's number, but got Herman's answering machine in the guest house. "You've reached the temporary L.A. office of the Institute for Planetary Justice," Herman's tired voice announced. "We are off creating havoc for world polluters and environmental criminals, so leave a message and we'll take it from there." BEEP.

  "Herman, it's Jack. Pick up that chimera file and get the hell out of that house. It's not safe. Don't stop to call me until you're out of Malibu. I'm at 949-555-1242." He hung up and looked into Susan's worried expression. "He's out creating havoc for world polluters."

  She nodded. Both of them sat there brooding, trying to figure out what to do next.

  "I think we should try to head him off," she finally said, her face a mask of apprehension.

  "If he left right after we went to dinner we'll never make it in time."

  Paul Nichols was doing a line of kickass Poluo Blanco when his computer's incoming mail feature beeped. He wiped the residue off his nose, went to the screen, and read the transcription of Jack Wirta's phone message. Octopus had picked up the keyword, Chimera, and located the point of origin in area code 949. He punched out a code on his keyboard, accessing a GPS map and a stored record of the call to Streisand's house along with the precise longitude and latitude of the caller, which was displayed on the electronic map. The call had originated from the third-to-last boat slip at the end of Lido Island. He tried to still his cocaine rush as he dialed the command room at DARPA headquarters in L.A.

  Jack felt a slight sway from the stern of the boat. He reached over, flipped off the lights, and whispered, "Somebody just came aboard."

  "Dad?"

  He felt the boat rock again as two more people came aboard. " 'Fraid not," he whispered.

  Earlier Jack had seen a spear fishing locker located in the forward bulkhead across from where they were now standing. He opened it, grabbed three spear guns along with a handful of shafts, then led Susan into the master stateroom, closed the door, and locked it. Then he'd guided her into the master bath where he remembered seeing an overhead fire hatch in the shower.

  He heard footsteps outside in the companionway.

  Jack pushed open the fire hatch, then helped Susan scale the ladder. Once she was out on the foredeck he handed up the three spearguns and spears. She looked puzzled and started to say something, but Jack put a finger to his lips, then followed her through the hatch and closed it.

  They knelt on the wide teak bow of the Bertram Sportfisher while Jack loaded and cocked all of the guns one at a time, pulling the spear shafts back, straining the rubber tubing until the triggers clicked and they locked in place.

  "Why those?" she whispered.

  "No noise. Pick 'em off one at a time," he whispered.

  "Kill them?" She was appalled.

  "Susan, we're down to basics here. We can do the dying, or they can. How do you want it?"

  Someone was coming forward. Jack pushed Susan behind a mahogany locker then crouched down beside her. A figure appeared silhouetted against the moon dressed in SWAT gear. The man must have sensed him, because the commando spun suddenly, holding one of the strange laser weapons. He was pointing it right at them. Jack fired the first spear. Fong. Thumpl

  The shaft buried itself deep in the man's chest. He groaned, toppled over the rail, and fell loudly into the water.

  As soon as the splash sounded, they heard a shout below and feet running.

  Jack grabbed Susan's hand. "Come on, we're goin' swimming." They jumped off the bow into the bay, with Jack clutching two unfired spear guns. Once they hit the cold water, and fought their way back up to the surface they started stroking away from the boat. In soaked clothing, they were making way too much noise. Jack stopped swimming and pulled up the second spear gun. He treaded water, holding the weapon at the ready, kicking his feet hard to stay afloat.

  Susan kept going toward a line of sailboats moored halfway across the channel. The moonlight made them easy targets.

  A second man ran to the bow of the boat, knelt down, and aimed his weapon.

  Jack fired.

  The spear flew high and wide, hitting the wheelhouse just above the window. It thunked and quivered, embedding itself deep into the wood next to the man's head. He scrambled back off the bow.

  Sorry about that, Ted.

  Jack dove, and made his way underwater, after Susan. With each lunging stroke, his back knifed with pain.

  Finally, he caught up to her. She had stopped and was treading water, waiting for him.

  "Keep going, around that boat. Get underwater," he gasped, swallowing a mouthful of water.

  They both dove just as two laser weapons zapped. A horrible tingling sensation electrified the water all around them. But the laser weapon's particle beam was quickly dissipated by the water.

  Underwater, Jack saw the dim outline of the moored sailboat, now only three yards away tied to two cans in the center of the channel. They frog-kicked toward it and somehow reached the far side before they surfaced, totally winded.

  "Let's go. Keep the boat between us and them." he instructed. "We gotta get to that beach." Jack pointed to an expensive residential island that was another fifty yards beyond. As they reached the shore, they heard the CDF troops swimming after them.

  "Let's get out of here!" Jack grabbed Susan's arm and they sprinted up the small beach between two bay-front houses, then onto the residential street beyond, where a few cars were parked. Jack ran to a classic Jag XKG convertible.

  He broke out the window with a Rockette-worthy kick. Then he reached through, unlocked the door, got in, and found the ignition wires. He pulled them out, twisted them, and almost immediately the Jag purred to life.

  Susan ran to the passenger side and jumped in as Jack put the Jag in gear, powering away from the curb. He roared down the narrow street, then he turned right onto the Coast Highway.

  Chapter Thirty-five.

  Pan is outside the pool house. He sees the Geegas. They are in the lighted room behind the sheet of hard air.

  He leaps, hitting it, putting his head through, but feeling no pain as pie
ces crash onto the floor around him. Green, savage memories overtake him shadow thoughts he can never identify. Violence! Rage! Killing for his tribe! Now Pan is inside the room and the Geegas are standing still, frightened, so easy to slaughter.

  The male Geega, standing next to the light pad on the wall, does something Pan doesn't understand ... he turns and pushes a button. "Run!" he yells at the female Geega, who lunges toward the door. But Pan blocks her path. He knows to kill the male Geega first. This is the rule.

  Pan charges.

  The male Geega swings a heavy canvas bag, hitting him in the chest, catching Pan by surprise. Pan falls backward, squealing.

  "The pool!" the female yells. Pan knows he can't rip them apart. He must use the knife. He knows that disobeying a direct order from the Alpha is worse than death.

  Pan brings his gloved hand up, flashing the knife. Pan spends hours practicing with the killing knives. He prefers to use his hands the glorious shredding ripping, but the Alpha Geega has said no. So, Pan now approaches slowly, just as he is taught. Creeping toward the male Geega on three extenders, his gloved hand in front of him, the five-inch blade flashing. He can hear his breath coming in rasps, snarling in the back of his throat.

  Pan is happy.

  Herman saw the beast seconds after it crashed through the window. It was far more terrifying than he had imagined ... an almost-human face twisted in animal rage, a body covered completely with brown fur. He hit the emergency panic button sending a silent alarm directly to the Malibu Sheriff's substation a few miles away, then turned to face the beast. The animal reeked like an unwashed hound. It wore a white headband, soaked red with blood from glass cuts.

  "My God," Herman said, as the chimera brandished a vicious-looking, five-inch blade in its gloved hand. The beast was wearing a vest that contained some kind of complicated computer. The stench coming off the animal was growing worse by the second, clogging Herman's nostrils.

  Then the chimera charged.

  Herman swung his heavy canvas bag full of law books, catching the beast in the chest and rolling it backward onto the floor. He grabbed Sandy's hand and started for the back door.