CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

IN PROTECTING THE lab’s, and therefore the administration’s interests, Marisol had twice lied to me about the identity of the twitchers who had attacked the lab and possibly ransacked my house. I could no longer believe she had my best interests in mind. She’d given up on Evie, probably given up on me. All she wanted was the override password to authorize Sandra to run her final algorithm and reveal the lost gene sequence.

I crouched low in the drive. A quarter-past two, the half-moon had risen almost directly overhead. Anyone with keen eyesight, I assumed that included the hybrids, would be able to discern movement outside the house. Earlier I’d seen a dirt road out the back. My truck still functioned, but would no doubt attract police like fat Southerners to a Waffle House. On the other hand, surely Marisol had a personal vehicle around.

I templed her ARGs and opted for remote start. A low growl emanated from the barn behind the house. “Let’s see how far she’s willing to go.” I already knew the answer for myself.

Lights came on in the house the moment I tore out of the barn, bound for the back forty or wherever the dirt road led. Clearly not the best plan I’d formulated, I chose instead to embrace the moment. My personal brand of riding out the storm had paid off more than once. I’d make it pay off again.

Pinching at my waist, I removed The Austin Job and tossed it on the passenger seat before templing my stolen ARGs. “Dial 15-38-64.”

“Who is this?” The Southern belle picked up instantly.

“It’s me.”

“Jim. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t let you die?”

“I’ve been told I’m more charming alive. Besides, I’ve jettisoned my head of security. It appears she was assisting other parties.”

“Understood.”

I shifted the ‘67 cherry red Camaro into third, the transmission opening up like a flower in bloom, and floated around a gravel turn at 35 mph as gauged by the original odometer. “Answer me one question correctly, or I hang up now and find another way to my daughter.”

“Shoot.”

“What was Evie wearing when you took her?”

“’Took’ is sort of inconsiderate considering, but to answer your question, jeans and a rather ratty tee with an image of Rooster Cogburn on the front.”

“Which one?”

“She’s got more than one?”

“Which Cogburn, dammit.”

“Why the Duke, of course. We would have left her there had it been any other.”

“All right.” I checked the rearview, still empty. “I’m en route, I just don’t know to where.”

“Finally. I do hope you mean it this time, Jim.”

“One more thing.”

“Final jeopardy.”

“Who are the guys that keep trying to kill me? I’ve heard one perspective. I’d like to hear yours.” Silence resonated from the other end for several seconds as I bounced across a small gully, scraping the low frame of the Camaro.

“You want the safe answer or the truth? The safe answer, and just maybe you and Evie can walk away from this when it’s all over. Maybe.”

“I’m done with safe. I’ll take what’s behind the curtain.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

In the distance I spotted a fence line and a glimmer of pipe—hopefully another cattle guard leading to a main road. “Sorry to interrupt, but a destination?”

“Already sent. Check your messages.”

“Got it.” I retinal clicked the flashing light in the corner of my lens view, bringing up a map.

“As for the interruption, we’re friends now. Never you mind. Hopefully at the end of all this we’ll have time to sit down together over a meal. I know a nice little diner in a small town west of here. You’d like the place.”

“The men.” I rattled across the cattle guard and accelerated parallel to the paved road.

“Right. Or half right, anyway. They used to be men. Since then they’ve been genetically altered using the twitch retrovirus and a bit of scientific voodoo I’m afraid I still don’t understand. That’s where your expertise would come in handy, as long as you prove reasonable.”

“What do they want?”

“They’re loyal to their creator.”

“And that’s not you?”

“Heavens, Jim. I thought we’d been over this.”

Finally I bucked onto the shoulder of the pavement, a road the map labeled as Lost Creek. At nearly half past two, it was open blacktop with no one else in sight. “What about Texarkana?”

“A setup and lies, mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Bridge is complicated.”

She snorted. “We weren’t even involved in the hit on your lab. Yet how do you think that’s gonna get spun?”

Interesting. Maybe Evie had been right. It seemed possible internal Texicas parties could have staged the violent attack to sour the public on the THS. Brutal, but possible. “Speaking of the attack on my lab, please don’t tell me the attackers work for a fictional character from a hundred-year-old pulp.”

“All right, honey. I won’t tell you. But I thought you’d already requested the house special.”

My background routine had been attempting to process everything the woman had been saying for hints of deception, but I hadn’t any formal training and she was too relaxed. Instead I assigned it to process everything I could remember about the THS. I wanted to figure their play in all this. “Fine. Rodchenko it is. What does he want?”

“I thought it rather obvious he wants you. As deadly as his soldiers are, I think we both understand their critical flaw. The twitch infection has a few well-established side effects, one being quite detrimental to one’s health.”

Squealing the tires and downshifting, I ran a stop sign before accelerating up the access ramp for Highway 360. Early morning traffic sporadically dotted the road. After giving the car some gas I shifted into fourth, and then finally fifth. Marisol had good taste in cars. Too bad she bet the odds. I’d always rooted for the underdog myself. “And thus back to my work.”

“I’ll let you be the judge, doctor. But apparently a fair share of folk think it holds the answer to their problem.”

“And you?”

“Honestly, Jim. I think your work is the problem.”

“Hmm. So you’re helping me why?”

An audible sigh came from the other end. “I’m not helping you, Jim. Not directly anyway. My job is to keep things from getting worse. To be fair, if anyone would have listened to me years ago, your work would be heralded for the godsend to society it should be. No one seems interested in listening to me, so here we are. You’re a problem, intentionally or not.”

“Fair enough. Bottom line, you have my daughter, so I’m coming to you.”

“We’ll keep her safe, Jim. That much you can trust. I know she’s an innocent in all this.”

“Once I establish she’s truly safe, according to my definition, I’ll let you deal with the problem of me, according to your definition.”

“No need to be dramatic, but do be safe. Any sign of Oleg’s men, please do us all the favor of breaking off the rendezvous. I’m not really equipped to deal with them at the moment.”

“I’ll do my best, but they have a nasty habit of showing up uninvited.”

“Yes, indeed. There’s been a rash of that lately. Take care, Jim.”

“And what do I call you?” I blurted out the question before she could disconnect.

After a brief pause she answered, “Adel. Adel Love.” And she was gone.

The coordinates she’d given me were downtown. I merged onto Highway 1 and pinned the speedometer at 65 mph, no desire to get pulled over at this point. As soon as I set speed, my lens view flashed with an incoming call from my own number. Apparently I’d gone too long without checking in.