The Proteus Cure (42 page)

Instead he pointed to Coogan. “It’s too dangerous to keep him here.”

Shen ignored the protest and pulled a slip of paper from his pocket as he approached Bill. He dropped in on the desktop.

“Boy was calling this number when I took him. Is important?”

Bill looked at the slip. His jaw dropped. He knew that number. The answering machine at the IV office! Was that where Rosko had been hiding?

He shook his head. You almost had to admire the man. Not only had he found a warm, dry, rent-free hiding place, but the choice was a way of thumbing his nose at Bill—or rather at his alter ego, Lee Swann.

Bill had planned to use the boy’s disappearance to flush Rosko out of hiding and bring him to Tethys. But now that Bill knew where he was, he could simply call him.

A slight variation on the original plan, but one that would work just as well.

He could dispose of both Roskos at once.

•

Paul sat on the desk of the IV office. The floor was under three inches of water, and it stank. Water dribbled in from all sides and made continuous ripples. It kept getting deeper. He wondered what Sheila and Coog were up to. He felt trapped—helpless, useless, sequestered from Coog and Sheila and the rest of the world in this Godforsaken, four-walled cage. Might as well be in prison.

He stood and balled his fists. But damn it, this time he hadn’t done anything. This time
he
was the victim.

He recognized the rage surge and tried the 10-9-8 breathing, but it didn’t work. He felt his blood pressure rising fast and he started pacing the cell—the office. Just like fucking prison.

Paul swung a fist at the wall and smashed through the sheet rock. His hand hurt but the rest of him felt a little better. He flexed his fingers. Blood. What the hell? He looked up and saw a three-foot gaping section of wallboard torn open, demolished. How did that happen? He remembered one punch. Only one. But there must have been more.

He was losing it. An anger blackout. The first in a long, long time. He shuddered. All those years of anger management, of rage control, all the lessons, the techniques were slipping away. If he didn’t—

The phone rang, startling him back to reality. He stared at it, listening for the message.

A man’s voice.
“Pick up, Rosko. I know you’re there.”

How the hell did he know? Paul walked closer, his anger rising again.

“Rosko, it’s Lee Swann. Pick up.”

He grabbed the receiver but it bounced out of his shaking hand onto the floor. He scrabbled to retrieve it from the water.

“I want to meet with you,”
the voice said.
“Maybe we can work something out.”

Right, like that would happen. A meeting with Swann was an invitation to a setup. The police were probably beside this guy right now. No way was Paul going to—

“Rosko, I’ve got your son. I think you’d better speak up.”

Coog?

“I’m here,” he managed to say, fear doubling the already high adrenaline from his anger. “I’m here.”

“
I figured that would get your attention.”

Slimy bastard. Paul clenched his bloody fist.

“Meet me in a half hour.”

“Where?”

“The Tethys Administration building, first floor.”

Gilchrist’s office was on that floor. The last piece of the puzzle clicked into place. But Paul decided to keep calling him Swann for now.

“Tethys. Why am I not surprised?”

“You wanted to make a deal, well, it’s deal time. Come alone or your son goes for a swim—in the river. I don’t know if you’ve seen the river today. Quite a sight. No matter how good a swimmer he is, your boy will be coming out of that water horizontally.”

Paul took deep breaths, counted backward … nothing was working.

“Let me speak to him.”

“No.”

The flat, matter-of-fact refusal jolted him.

“Then how do I know you really have him?”

“How do you think I found out where you’re hiding? But if you still doubt me, call your girlfriend’s house. See if he answers. Let me save you the trouble: He won’t. And besides, even if I wanted to let you speak to him, I can’t. He’s unconscious.”

Paul stood frozen. He felt the heat of rage drain away as an icy calm took over. Had Bill beaten Coog? Unconscious … or dead?

No. Paul couldn’t accept that. In danger of death, yes, but still alive.

He had to
do
something. He couldn’t walk into Swann’s—Gilchrist’s—setup. That would mean the end of Coog and him.

He needed time, needed to throw Gilchrist off balance. Put him on the defensive. But how?

Then Paul had it. A counterpunch. A shocker.

“Yeah, well, so you’ve got Coogan. Big deal. Think that’s going to make me come running? We both know, thanks to you and Kaplan, he’s no longer my son. I know all about Proteus, and I know it turned him into someone else’s kid. So what’s he to me? Do whatever the hell you want, Swann. Why should I care what you do to some lab rat genetic freak?”

And then he hung up.

Didn’t expect that, did you, you shit.

Paul’s heart thrashed against the wall of his chest like a wounded animal. He’d just taken a monumental gamble.

Whatever Gilchrist had planned hinged on Paul’s caring about his son. But if Paul didn’t care, then it became a whole new game. Gilchrist would have to rethink, regroup, and that would give Paul time to get to Tethys.

As he grabbed his coat, a small bag of McDonald’s cookies fell out. He was starving and if his blood sugar got any lower, no telling where his moods might go. As he snatched them up and ran for the door, the phone began to ring.

•

Bill stood in speechless shock. Rosko hadn’t waited for a response.

“Rosko?”

A dial tone.

He hung up on me! What the hell—?

What kind of man hangs up on someone holding his son? All right, technically not his son anymore, but a boy he’s raised for thirteen years. What kind of cold-hearted bastard was he dealing with?

Bill glanced at the kid, saw his eyes flutter open, then close again. He was coming out of it. Shen still stood by him. Fucking lioness protecting her cub.

And what had Rosko said about Proteus? Where had he heard that name? Even if Kaplan had spilled the beans about the process, no one but the family ever called it Proteus. Not even Sheila knew.

He ran his fingers through his hair, hard, pulling at it. How could he know?

“How!” he screamed.

Shen was looking at him as if he’d lost his mind.

“Doctor Gilchrist, you are all right?”

Some assassin he’d turned out to be.

“Fine. I’m fine. Rosko’s phone must have cut out. I’d better call him back.”

As Bill redialed he tried to think of a way to save face with Shen and regain the upper hand. He looked from Shen and the kid to the leaded window. Rain. Heavy rain eroding the Tethys campus drop by drop.

Rosko answered on the second ring.

He sighed.
“You again, Swann? What now?”

Again Bill was taken aback. How could this joker act like this? He had his boy for God’s sake! This was not a time to be acting the wise-ass tough guy.

Acting … yes, maybe it was all an act.

“Don’t hang up on me. Rosko. If you do, I will kill the boy.”

Wait … what was that sound? Crunching? Chewing? Was this guy eating? Was it
that
small an issue to him that he could be snacking while his son’s life hung in the balance?

Bill banged his pen on the desk. Christ!

“Try to bluff me again and he’s gone. If that doesn’t matter to you, then let me know.”

Nothing. At least the chewing stopped.

“Say something, Rosko.”

“It matters. What is it you want, Swann? My silence? Is that it? You want me to stop looking into Proteus?”

Bill didn’t have an answer for him.

What do I want?

He wanted Rosko to come here so he could kill him. Not the right response though. What to say, what to say …

“You keep throwing out the name Proteus. I don’t know where you heard it, but trust me, it encompasses so much more than the sliver of what you know. It’s an important therapy that will save millions of lives. It shouldn’t be stopped. The future of mankind is at stake here. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to hurt you or your son. Hurting is not what I’m about. I took an oath.”

“Yeah, I know. First, do no harm right?”

“Yes, exactly. Do no harm. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“But you did. You killed the Green woman and Kaplan and probably Silberman, then you framed me. Why the hell should I trust you?”

Good point.

Bill felt a buzz in his breast pocket and nearly jumped off his chair. The cell phone vibrated always startled him. He pulled it out and looked at it.

Abra—home.

Third time she’d called this morning. He didn’t have time for her right now. He hit the ignore button and replaced the cell in his pocket.

“You have to trust me because I have your son. You don’t have a choice.”

“So you’re admitting that you killed those people?”

Stupid question. He knew damn well—

The phone! He realized that the whole conversation was being recorded on IV’s answering machine. God, what an idiot he was. Bill pulled the phone cord tight, wrapping it around his fingertips as he tried to recall everything he’d said since Rosko picked up. Had he admitted anything? Jesus! Of course he had. Said he’d kidnapped his son and was going to kill him, and he’d given his location. If Rosko took that to the police …

Had to bring him in, then Bill could call back and use the machine’s “erase-all-messages” option.

Someone shoved his shoulder. He looked up to see Shen, pulling the cord off Bill’s finger.

“You are all right, Doctor Gilchrist?”

Bill nodded, glad for the jolt back to reality. He stared down at his purple fingertip. It burned as blood flow returned.

He needed to shake up Rosko—gamble on his paternal instinct.

“You want to know if I have him? You want to know if he’s still alive? You want to hear his voice? How about hearing that voice scream in pain?” Bill snapped his fingers to Shen. “Wake the kid and break his arm.”

But Shen shook his head. “No sir. No, I cannot do that.”

Shocked, Bill jammed his hand over the receiver’s mouthpiece.

“What?”

“I cannot do that. I am sorry, sir. No disrespect but I will not hurt the boy in any way before I talk to
Ji
ù-zhù-zh
e
.”

Shen looked away and stood in front of the kid. A barrier.

Oh for Christ’s sake,
Ji
ù-zhù-zh
e, Ji
ù-zhù-zh
e.

As Bill glared at Shen he remembered Rosko. He put the receiver to his ear in time to hear him begging.

“Please, please don’t hurt him! I’m begging you! I’ll come in.”

Bill had to smile. “So, you
do
care.”

“Yes. I do.”
Rosko’s tone turned cold, menacing.
“If you’ve hurt him I’ll—”

Bill laughed. “You’ll what?”

“I know who you are, Gilchrist, and if you’ve got kids of your own … a little Biblical justice will be in order. And in case you don’t know what that means, the phrase an eye for an eye should ring a bell.”

Bill swallowed. How long had he known his identity? Did Sheila know? Robbie … April … dear God.

No! He couldn’t let Rosko turn the tables.

“Half an hour, Rosko, or the kid goes swimming.”

He hung up and turned to find Shen dissecting him with his eyes, scrutinizing every move.

Bill reached into his drawer, pulled out his lockbox. A key from his ring opened it and he removed a small .32 caliber revolver—loaded. He slipped it into his coat pocket. The instant Rosko stepped through that door—
blam!
—he was dead.

Then what? Kill the boy? Might even have to kill Shen. This was out of control with no one to rely on but himself.

His life’s work was not going to fall apart because of some ex-con cable installer and that overzealous slut Sheila.

“Get the kid into the tunnels! Lock him in the monitoring room. Then we’ll go talk to my sister.”

Shen looked at him, analyzing him. Probably thought he’d lost it. But Bill didn’t care. He hadn’t gone nuts, but someone had to get things under control. Let Shen Li judge all he wanted. He wasn’t long for his world. But for now Bill needed him. If nothing else, he knew the man would protect him.

Shen lifted the unconscious boy into his arms and walked down the hall toward the elevators.

The cell phone buzzed again and Bill flinched. He reached in and hit IGNORE. He didn’t have to look to know it was Abra. What did she
want
? He had no intention of taking Shen to see her.

Abra relied on him to take care of things and that was exactly what he was doing. When it was all fixed, he’d call her back.

•

Paul ran through the deluge in blind panic. If only he’d been able to hold up his bluff. But how, when someone invited you to listen while your son’s arm was snapped? And worse, he
still
didn’t know for sure if Coog was alive, if Coog’s light was still out there, still burning.

One thing he did know was that he had to get to Tethys before Gilchrist could harm Coog.

Paul’s anger was focused now, and just as cold as before.

He looked at his watch. He was due at 8:50
.

I’ll be there in fifteen, Gilchrist. And then you and I will have a nice little chat.

He jumped into his Explorer and turned the key, but it didn’t start. It whined but wouldn’t catch. Wet wires. Had to be.

He began to shake. Oh, no. Not now. Not
now
!

He kept trying, and on the fourth go round the engine caught and roared to life. Paul rested his forehead on the steering wheel and allowed himself one sob.

When the engine had warmed, he threw it into gear and headed for Tethys.

He’d known about the rain, of course, but lack of a TV or radio had left him unprepared for the flood. The streets were churning streams of water, running clear when he started out but turning muddier and muddier the closer he got to Tethys. The water forced him to cut his speed. Couldn’t afford to drown his engine now.