Exposed (11 page)

Whacked-Out Possibilities
Today they were meeting at the ball field of the Carmine Recreation Center, a stripped-down sort of YMCA, if there was such a thing. An after-school league was in the midst of practice, and Jake enjoyed watching the small boys step up behind home plate. It reminded him of his childhood, when he'd played on almost every kiddie league his school or town offered. He'd excelled at just about every sport he tried his hand at. The boy at bat now wasn't faring so well. He looked sweaty and uncomfortable, and his grip on the bat was all wrong. Jake could tell the kid was afraid of the ball. Not uncommon, but something he'd have to get over if he wanted to be any good. Of course, as a child, Jake's only interest in the talent of the other players had been in
relation to whether or not they were slowing him down.

Jake's entire body was humming with excitement. He couldn't wait to tell Oliver about his new theory. About God. How cool would it be if Jake's hunch turned out to be right? Oliver would have to acknowledge him then, admit that Jake was more than just a dumb kid. He'd have to concede that Jake was a possible protégé, someone to potentially be reckoned with. Freakin' awesome.

“You're early,” a voice commented dryly off to Jake's right. Jake turned to find Oliver standing at the edge of the bleachers, looking so un-Oliver that it took Jake a moment to recognize him. Sure, he supposed Oliver intended to blend in, given their surroundings, but still … he'd never seen the man, generally given to tailored three-piece suits and carrying honest-to-God cloth handkerchiefs … Well, he'd never seen the man in
jeans
. Jeans and a T-shirt.
Will wonders never cease?
Jake thought, admiring Oliver's constant—and constantly successful—efforts to play the part to the hilt.

“Yeah, well, I finished up some errands earlier than I expected, so I figured, why not,” Jake replied, smiling.

Oliver didn't smile back. “Have you uncovered any new information?” he asked.

It was hard for Jake to take Oliver seriously from behind the huge Ray-Bans he wore, but he persevered. “Actually,” he began, struggling to keep his tone casual, “I had a thought.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow—this Jake could see even
behind the oversized lenses. “Please do share it with me,” he said.

“Well, okay. So I went over to the boardinghouse today to see Gaia—I've been keeping an eye on her like you said,” Jake explained.

“Yes,” Oliver said, waving Jake on impatiently.

“She wasn't there, but her housemate Zan was. Now, Zan's a total freak—also, I think she might have a crush on me,” Jake couldn't help but add. “She does
a lot
of drugs—at least, it seems that way. So I don't know how totally trustworthy she is. But she's really into this new drug called Invince. You know, the drug that supposedly makes you feel invincible. It's the next big thing underground, I guess. People are taking these tabs, they're called Oranges, and the trip, it like makes you feel immortal. That's why there's been that huge wave of daredevil crimes. Lots of violence and stuff. Because people just aren't afraid of anything anymore.”

Oliver stared coolly at Jake but didn't say anything. He kept his hands planted firmly in his pockets.

“So, okay, it got me thinking. Whoever is after Gaia stole some of her hair. Which is, you know, totally weird. But maybe it makes sense when you think about it in connection to Invince. You know—maybe whoever is creating Invince is sort of researching ways to re-create the feeling of being invincible? Refining the drug? And maybe Gaia's DNA is the key? I know its a little farfetched. But maybe they think her super-strength, super-intelligence, super-all-around-abilities
are encoded in her genes? I mean, what else would they want her
hair
for? Unless whoever took her hair is just some crazed serial killer looking for a prize.”

“But we know who took her hair,” Oliver pointed out. “Or at least, we suspect we do.”

“Right,” Jake agreed, excited. Now that he was voicing it out loud, he was really warming to his theory. “The Rodkes. As in
Rodke Pharmaceuticals
. I think they're into some … I don't know … drug research or something. I mean, it's possible, right? Anything's possible? Compared to all the whacked-out possibilities, this one makes the most sense … doesn't it …?” He trailed off uncertainly. Oliver wasn't saying anything, which was never an especially good sign. “Well, you told me to explore every possibility,” he finished defensively. “So I am.”

“So you are,” Oliver agreed. “It's good that you did. It's important for us, in a situation with so few real leads, that we open our minds and, as they say, ‘think outside the box.'”

“That's all I'm doing,” Jake said, trying to sound less petulant than he felt.

“Well, that's certainly true. Have you developed any further theories?” Oliver asked.

After being shot down so quickly, Jake was loath to put forth his ideas about God, but he'd learned early on that it was best to be up front with Oliver. After all, anything he tried to keep a secret always came out
later anyway. “Well, there's this dealer. He calls himself ‘God.'”

Oliver gave a short laugh as if thoroughly amused by the notion.

“And he's, like, the only person who has access to Invince. He's the main supplier, and he only works with the dealers—he won't sell directly to the junkies. Anyway, I did some digging in Washington Square, and he's supposed to be there tomorrow. Or at least, that's the word on the street. I don't know how reliable the drug addicts are, but then again—you have to figure they want their fix. So I'm going to go by tomorrow, see what I can figure out.”

Oliver shrugged, completely noncommittal. “It certainly couldn't hurt. Truth be told, it's a tenuous connection at best and a long shot. But by all means, Jake, go. Go and seek out this ‘God.' See what he has to say.”

“Yeah?” Jake asked uncertainly. He couldn't make heads or tails of Oliver's lack of enthusiasm.

“Absolutely. You're right: we don't have any better leads right now, and as long as you're willing and able, we should certainly follow those that we do have. If that means talking to this so-called God”—and here Oliver couldn't resist another derisive snort—“then that's what you should do. Go talk to him. And then come to me.

“And tell me everything.”

He was nothing if not an opportunist.

especially nostalgic
From:
[email protected]

To:
[email protected]

Re:
Caught in the act

Well, looks like we're
not
the only ones who think Gaia's new friendship is totally bizarro. Good to know little miss never-fazed Liz is actually bothered by it. Makes me feel like this nasty little rumor we've sent out into the ether might have some bite to it—not necessary, of course, but an added bonus.

From:
[email protected]

To:
[email protected]

Re:
Does this mean Jake's available?

Can I say,
yum?!

OLIVER LINGERED AT THE REC CENTER for a while after Jake had left. He wasn't especially nostalgic by nature—well, most of the time he wasn't, anyway—but he enjoyed watching the young boys play. He could recall being that age and being sick and helpless. He remembered the seething envy he had felt toward his brother as a child, his brother, the wonder boy, the one to whom everything came so easily. Even Gaia's mother, Katia.
Especially
Gaia's mother. Was it any wonder Oliver felt so protective toward Gaia? She was all that he had, all that his brother had borne that was at all accessible to Oliver. And while she certainly didn't trust him right now, he would win her back. He'd win back her loyalty.

Nothing If Not an Opportunist
After all, he was nothing if not an opportunist. And there was metaphorical gold to be mined from her DNA.

“Does the boy have a lead?” came a low voice from behind Oliver.

Without turning around, Oliver replied. “I'm not sure,” he growled from the corner of his mouth. No use in putting all of his cards on the table so early in the game—leverage was imperative. His agents needed
to be kept on their toes, information doled out on a “need to know” basis only. “It's something we'll have to keep on top of to be sure.”

“He's off to see ‘God' in Washington Square?” the agent said uncertainly, stating the obvious.

“Indeed. If you were listening to our conversation at all—which for your sake I greatly hope you were—then you would know that. You shouldn't need me to repeat it.”

“Of course not, sir,” the agent replied, sounding nervous. Loki could feel the embarrassment radiating off the man in waves.
Good
, he thought.
Humble is good
.

“Never mind,” he replied curtly. “Just see that you follow Jake. I want exhaustive reports on all of his efforts—I need to see that his reports to me correspond to your surveillance. I need to be sure that we can rely on him, that he is thorough, that he is professional.”

“Certainly, sir,” the agent said quickly. Loki could almost hear his head bobbing up and down enthusiastically in agreement.

“And while you're at it, you might as well dig up all the information that you can on God,” Loki added, sounding authoritative.

“Don't disappoint me.”

I've
grown sloppy of late.

OLIVER
This is dangerous, both to me and to my cause. I must be more careful. I must keep closer watch. His enthusiasm is powerful, and his instincts are keen.

It seems I've vastly underestimated Mr. Montone, which is quite unlike me. Either that or the boy has made one very lucky wild guess. Regardless, he has pieced together the missing information and provided me with a fully assembled puzzle. Without even the benefit of knowing about Gaia's special genetic make up.

It's so obvious, I cannot believe I even needed his assistance. But it's important to have people close to the ground, I think. And while I knew—knew!—that Dr. Rodke was working against my Gaia, stealing from her, looking to profit from her—it did not occur to me that Invince was the missing link.

But of course! His company is a pharmaceutical research company.

He is clearly interested in DNA research and specifically in suppression of fear. Why else would he be interested in my Gaia? Why else would he have convinced her to use her own body as a science experiment, to expose herself to this crippling, debilitating sensation we know as terror?

I've no doubt Rodke's lab facilities are fully equipped with all the latest technology. But no amount of controlled testing can simulate the true human experience. And so—yes!—Rodke is using the scum of the city as his own personal petri dish! He has leaked Invince to the masses …
on purpose
. To observe and to chart the results.

Clever. Cunning. Devious. I'm tempted, in fact, to respect his actions but for one thing.

His interest in Gaia cannot be overlooked. It cannot be excused.

Though I am stunned by Jake's abilities, I am also relieved. He has access to Gaia and to her world that I do not. His recon mission will be most helpful-particularly
if he doubts my confidence in him. He is just on the money, I believe—but I don't need him to know that. He'll work harder if he thinks he still has something to prove. And thank “God” for that.

Is
there some kind of fine line between casual concern and full-on stalking? And if so, how do you know when you've crossed it? Or if you have to ask the question, is it safe to assume that you
have
crossed it, beyond any remaining shadow of doubt?

ED
From the moment I first met Gaia-literally, from the first day I saw her, standing in my high school hallway looking like some fire-breathing dragon (well, okay, an incredibly gorgeous fire-breathing dragon), she's been in some kind of danger. I've seen her chased down by men with guns, and I've seen friends of hers kidnapped and seriously harmed. Hell, not too long ago I
was
one of those friends harmed. I mean, when she says her life is a mess—a
dangerous
mess—she isn't kidding around.

And she's inscrutable. She wants nothing to do with my sympathy. Which, ironically, was what drew me to her in the first place. I understood what it was like to
have to deal with people's BS false sympathy day in and day out, from being in a wheel chair. Gaia didn't treat me the way other people did—and that's the understatement of the year.

But when you're friends with someone, you want to be there for them. At least that's the way it works for me. And I understand not wanting to talk or to analyze every last issue. I understand that a lot of things in her life really suck—I mean, the girl's lived with at least three different parental “figures” in the whole time I've known her, only one of whom was actually a parent and
several
of whom were actively out to get her.

But lately she's been different. Edgy. Insecure. Maybe even a little depressed. Not the badass chick I was so impressed by last fall. And if she doesn't want to talk, I can't pretend I think it's okay. I can't pretend I'm not worried. I can't just let it go because she isn't ready to deal. Hence the fine line between gentle
concern and full-on stalking.

You see my dilemma.

I just can't bring myself to believe all of the rumors I've heard about her. I mean, the Village School skanks would spread gossip about Mother Teresa if they were bored enough. There's no reason to put any stock in what Megan and her cronies say. Except…

Except that maybe I don't even know Gaia anymore.