CHAPTER 29
On the fourth morning following the injection of the Phoenix Formula into Stone’s body, Kat woke up to the smell of coffee and frying bacon. She leaned her head to the side and saw that Kevin was no longer in the bed. He had finally worn her down two days before by stating that the pull-out bed in the living room was ruining his back.
She had relented and said he could sleep in the same bed as her, but they were both to wear full pajamas and there was to be no hanky-panky, either implied or assumed. Kevin had agreed, reluctantly, figuring half a loaf was better than none at all.
She yawned, rubbed her eyes, and walked into the kitchen.
Standing at the stove was a man who appeared to be in his late thirties, with coal-black hair and a trim build. The sweat clothes he was wearing hung loosely on him as if they were two sizes too large.
Angus was sitting on his haunches next to the man, his attention riveted on the frying bacon in the skillet on the stove and his tail slowly wagging.
Kat glanced at the kitchen table and saw Kevin sitting there in his pajamas, drinking a cup of coffee, and smiling at her.
She looked back to the man at the stove. “Who are you, and what have you done with my elderly professor?” she asked, grinning.
Stone turned around, his arms held wide. “What do you think, Dr. Kat? Do you approve of what your formula has accomplished?”
Kat, who up until now had only seen Stone lying in the bed under covers with just his head sticking out, was amazed at the transformation.
She moved quickly to embrace him, then stepped back and held him at arm’s length. “You look great, Jordan. Really great.”
He gave a short bow. “Thank you, Dr. Kat. And more importantly, I feel great.”
Angus gave a short bark and inclined his head toward the stove.
Stone turned back to his cooking. “You are correct, Angus, lad. If I don’t pay attention to what I am doing, I will surely burn the bacon.”
He waved back over his shoulder. “Dr. Kat, by the time you have showered and changed, breakfast should be ready. We are having eggs à la Stone, along with bacon, pancakes, and home-style fries with onions and bell peppers.”
Kat laughed. “Remember, Jordan, not everyone has had their metabolism kicked into high gear. Kevin and I will have to be careful not to gain twenty pounds if we are to let you do all the cooking.”
She turned and rushed toward the bathroom to get ready, her mouth watering at the thought of breakfast.
* * *
Angus lay on his side next to Stone’s chair at the breakfast table, his belly distended from several pieces of bacon and a small helping of scrambled eggs.
While she drank a post-breakfast cup of coffee, Kat looked at Kevin. “How about I clean up the kitchen and do the dishes while you take Jordan to Dillard’s and get him some new clothes?”
“That sounds like a plan,” Kevin answered. “And after I bring him back here, I think I’ll take the Honda to Houston and see about picking up Burton and Sheila and bringing them back here. They deserve to see this in person.”
“Why can’t they just come here in their own cars?” Stone asked.
“You forget, Jordan, we are being watched. Kevin found GPS locators affixed to all of our cars a few weeks back, so any time we want to go someplace secret, we have to use the Honda,” Kat said. She held up her mobile phone. “We have even begun to use so-called burner phones so that our calls can’t be listened in on.”
Stone nodded. “More cloak-and-dagger stuff.”
Kat leaned across the table and put her hand on his. “But necessary, Jordan. I’m sure you can see that. The Phoenix Formula is so . . . so revolutionary that if its secret got out, men would do anything to obtain it.”
“And most would not want to use it to do good, but to gain power and control over others,” Kevin said.
“Like the reclusive billionaire with whom you have promised to do business.”
“Yes, just like him,” Kat answered. “And forgive me, Jordan, but you don’t have to sit there with your ivory tower background and be so judgmental about what we have had to do to get this far with our research.”
Stone looked stricken. “I am truly sorry, Dr. Kat. There is great merit in what you say, and I must confess to having some doubts about the character and intentions of the man we are talking about, but I would never presume to look down upon you or your compatriots, whom I know have only the best intentions in your hearts.”
“Thank you for that, Jordan,” Kevin said. “If there was any other way, we would take it, but original research is very expensive, and almost impossible without getting the government involved.”
“I may have some thoughts on that, which I shall share with you later,” Stone said. “But first, away with us, young Mr. Kevin. My new attire is waiting for us at the nearest men’s store,” he added, obviously attempting to lighten the mood in the room before it got out of hand.
* * *
It was almost five o’clock before Kevin managed to return with Burton and Sheila. He had used every trick he could think of to make sure they weren’t being followed. He’d even gone over the Honda with his electronic checker to assure himself there was no GPS tracker on it.
Burton sniffed as he entered the front door. “My God, whatever that is, it smells delicious.”
Stone appeared in the dining room archway, a dish towel slung over his shoulder. He was wearing new black Levi’s, a purple and black Izod shirt, and black tennis shoes.
“I discovered this afternoon that the house you rented came equipped with a gas grill on the back patio, Burton, so I took the liberty of grilling some of those rib eye steaks you had so thoughtfully provided in the freezer.”
Kat appeared next to him. “He also baked potatoes and cooked corn and green beans.”
Stone shrugged. “Simple food, but then, I am a simple man.”
Sheila put her hands to her cheeks, eyes wide. “My God, is it you, Jordan?”
He laughed. “In the flesh, Dr. Sheila.”
“Holy smoke!” Burton exclaimed. “It actually worked.”
“You look thirty years younger, and . . . and so healthy,” Sheila said, moving closer to him to put her palms on his shoulders.
“And more importantly, I feel thirty years younger, Dr. Sheila,” Stone said, placing his hands over hers.
Angus appeared in the kitchen doorway and barked loudly, looking back over his shoulder to the kitchen.
“Ah, young Angus is correct,” Stone said. “The steaks are going to get cold if we do not make haste to the dining room.”
As the group took seats around the dining room table, Stone speared a rib eye, cut it into small pieces, and placed them in Angus’s bowl next to his bed in the corner of the room.
Angus settled down and began to eat the steak, groaning low in his throat in delight.
Everyone at the table laughed and began to dig into their own food, with much talking back and forth about the formula and what Stone had experienced during the transformation.
“Well, since I slept through most of it, there is not a lot I can tell you that you do not already know,” he said in answer to the questions. “It was kind of like having the flu . . . chills, fever, shakes. All in all, not too unpleasant.”
* * *
J.P. Ashby was getting impatient. He’d heard nothing from the researchers since he had given them the fifty thousand dollars, and since he’d told his investigators to back off, he had no new intel on their actions or whereabouts.
He angrily hit the speed-dial on his phone and soon had Harold Gelb on the phone. “Do you have any news for me, Gelb?”
“Uh . . . no, sir. Since you told me to have my men back off, all I’ve been doing is monitoring the movements of the subjects’ automobiles.”
“And have there been any unusual movements to report?”
“Not at all. None of the vehicles has made any unusual trips, and especially not out of the city. In fact,” he added, “let me check right now.”
After a moment, he came back on the line. “Yes, all of their vehicles are in their various parking garages as we speak.”
“So I can assume they are all currently in their apartments?”
“Uh . . . again, sir, I have no way of knowing that without going to each location and physically checking on them.”
Ashby took a deep breath and thought for a moment. “Okay, then I suggest you send your men to do just that. I need to know where they are right now.”
“Well, Johnson is on another assignment, but I’ll get Gomer on it right away.”
“Gelb,” Ashby said in a dangerously low voice, “do not ever think me a fool. I know you are charging me almost double your usual rates. Now, I don’t mind that, and, in fact, I expect it, since no one in their right mind ever gives a billionaire a discount. However, at these rates, I do expect that you will keep all of your operatives available to me twenty-four /seven. Do I make myself clear, or should I peruse the yellow pages for other private investigative firms?”
“No, sir! I will get my men on it immediately. There might be some problem with Dr. Goodman’s apartment, since it has rather good security that keeps unknown or unwanted visitors at bay, but the others’ apartments are all rather Spartan and I can have my men approach as salesmen and see if anyone answers their doors.”
“And, Gelb, forget what I said about backing off. From now on, I want eyes on these people at all times as long as your men can do it and remain out of sight.”
* * *
That night, after he had gotten off work, showered, and eaten a tasteless microwave TV dinner, FBI SAIC Nicholas Fowler listened to the tape of Ashby talking to Gelb with interest. Though he could hear only one side of the conversation, he knew things were heating up with Ashby and his mysterious scientists.
“I think things might just be coming to a head with Mr. J.P. Ashby,” he said to himself as he sat before his recording equipment. Not wanting to leave the recordings unattended all day in case he might miss something important, Fowler decided to call in sick for a few days and monitor the equipment continuously.
He pushed the appropriate dials to have the video- and tape-recording feeds forwarded directly to his home computer, then he headed home, locking the door behind him.
He figured he could monitor things from home, just in case someone from the office called him to make sure he was really home sick. Not likely, but not impossible, since the FBI would be watching him closely in his last few months on the job before his upcoming retirement.
As he drove toward his apartment, he wondered just what in the world Ashby was doing messing around with these rather low-rent doctors. He’d had their records checked, and none of them had tripped any bells.
Well, he figured, now that he was listening on his own without any other agents looking over his shoulder, he might just wrangle a way to listen in himself on Ashby’s talks with his doctor and lawyers. Perhaps that would give him the answers he was looking for.