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Part 1
Part 2
Part 4
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Strange Dark Alchemy
Part 3
Well, what do you do on a Saturday afternoon in a nearly sterile chamber sealed away from the rest of the world? You talk. You listen. The circumstances were peculiar, the solution highly rational. We already knew each other, but we didn’t, not really. I’m a very direct person. I don’t like to waste my time or anyone else’s. I brought along a small collection of photos and mementos, because I did not want to spend time in pointless small talk. Pragmatic Mason like the idea. We exchanged lives. We still liked each other at day’s end.
Late in the evening, the GSA phone rang. Mason muted his baroque music before cursing and taking the call. I watched years return to his face while he listened to what was obviously unwelcome news.
“The Prince of Genomex and his children are stirring tonight, so I must go and stir with them. I’m sorry. I cannot delegate this.”
“I’ll be here,” I assured him.
“You will?”
“That was my plan. I may not be awake, but I will be here.”
He seemed to like that a lot. “In the case you need to come and go, I’ll re-key the door to your thumbprint and irises.”
“That’s a good idea. It’s been a long time since I ate anything. I’ll leave with you, but when you get back, I’ll be here.”
Mason’s adventures with Adam took a long time. I wasn’t bored. I’m never bored if I have something to read or write. On one level, I was angry at Adam for dragging Mason away from me, but on another I was nagged by fears that Something Bad had happened, and from the latter I launched into entertaining fantasy scenarios in which I hunted down Adam and his miserably deluded mutant superkids and captured them all to face Justice for their crimes against Mason. In some of these fantasies, I indulged in less civilized but more emotionally satisfying revenge. Fortunately, in my own life I never troubled with revenge because I believed God Kept Good Notes.
When someone treated me badly, I just wanted to get away from them. I assumed that eventually they would cross the path of someone more rotten than themselves and suffer greater pain and loss than I could ever imagine inflicting.
After hurting Adam eight different and enjoyable ways, I took a shower and changed into a nightgown and bathrobe.
And no, I did not Dress for Undressing. Neither the nightgown nor the bathrobe were shabby—they were in fact nearly new—but they were hardly seductive.
Well, Mason was odd, I was odd (Hadn’t people told me all my life, “Rebecca is strange”?) and already the relationship was…odd. Could anything other than odd ever happen to me? Unlikely.
Emotionally and intellectually, I knew I was going to require a high level of trust in Mason before confusing unresolved doubts with the admixture of sex, which in the case of Mason was a mystery. For him, I had no idea what that meant. Genomex mythology indicated he had no choice but celibacy, but he had certainly implied otherwise last night, hadn’t he? Hadn’t he?
Odd things had a way of weaving themselves into the texture of my life, but surely this ‘courtship’ was not intended to lead to a lifetime of gazing at one another from an immunologically safe distance, was it? That’s too bizarre even to befall me. I hope.
I could not think of a way of asking Mason to clarify matters without embarrassing both of us. We were both intensely proud people. I decided to set the matter aside temporarily, assuming additional data would come my way.
I returned to amusing thoughts of using a force-lance on Adam, or of finding him alone, on foot, in the middle of a vast, grassy steppe, beneath steel-grey clouds…the look of terror on Adam’s face as he recognized mine as I clamped my heels into the ribs of my little grey war-mare who eagerly leapt into a dead run gallop, closing the space between us and the fleeing Adam, with fluid, ground-covering stride…I unsheathed the sword I carried on my back…
I wonder how healthy this is? Am I really thinking about weaselly Adam, or is he just standing in for Jeff?
I didn’t give much thought to Jeff any longer, although he had an unpleasant way of making me miserable all over again in my dreams.
I feel that protective of Mason?
Today, I’d heard the story of how Mason came to be injured, intentionally, by Adam. Mason never made any attempt to charm or present himself falsely, which Adam certainly did. More than anyone left alive, Mason knew what a fraud Adam was, and I was learning.
For years, Genomex mythology indicated Mason’s health was balanced on a knife-edge. Yes, I probably am that protective, knowing now his vulnerabilities are not exaggerated.
I fell asleep thinking these thoughts in the chair facing out Mason’s only window.
How much time passed I don’t know. The night was overcast, so I could not gauge time from the stars.
I did not waken when the outer doors sealed behind Mason, but I did hear him walk to the bedroom, stop, and not move on for several moments. I wasn’t fully awake, but I did hear him remove his coat and hang it in the closet. The lighting was dim inside the suite, and when he came to stand in front of the window, he did not see me curled up in the chair. He stared out into the darkness, into a world in which he lived but could never belong.
Then it struck me: he believes I’ve gone home. There weren’t any other places I could be in his compact, personal world.
“Mason?”
He spun about, obviously startled. “I thought you left.”
“No. I said I’d be here.” I pulled myself upright in the chair. “What time is it?”
“3.45. I am exhausted. Adam and his kiddies like to conduct their business late at night in noisy bars…fortunately, I can sit at the center of my web and send agents into those places. I don’t handle crowds well at all. Never have.”
“Mason, what is it?” Even in poor light, something in the eyes, something in the voice…
“I expected you to be gone. I expected to be abandoned.”
“I’m not in the habit of making promises I do not intend keeping.”
“I know that. I’m stunned that you’re here. And I’m surprised how much of myself I’ve already…invested.”
“Are you scared by that?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“We’re even.”
Late in the morning on Monday, I was called to the front desk for a package delivery. I hadn’t ordered anything that would not come UPS or truck, and thus, be deposited on the dock, so I was surprised when the receptionist smiled broadly and handed a large bunch of carnations to me.
I had forgotten about Mason’s promise, but he hadn’t.
I trimmed the stems and placed the carnations in several 1000 mL Erlenmeyer flasks.
Samihah came by my lab just prior to lunch, which she frequently did, especially if the autoclaves near her lab were venting and reeking.
I was putting an autoinjector tower back together at my desk when she walked in, and saw the carnations.
“Oh, Rebecca. Very nice.” She studied them a moment longer, waiting until I turned to face her. Then she smiled slyly, and asked, “Nicely done?”
“You’re not guessing, are you?”
“Of course not. I told you before what I believed.”
“Let’s go to lunch.”
“This has no parallel in Genomex mythology, Rebecca!”
“I can believe that.”
“You are blushing! How charming. Too many American women would not blush at anything. I told you he was human.” She looked back at the carnations as we left my lab. “Very human.”
I rolled my eyes. Thankfully, Samihah would not say anything to anyone else.
“You’re not saying much, Dr Steyn. You are pleased, yes?”
“Yes.”
“I hear something more. Some doubt?”
‘Not doubt. It just feels peculiar.”
“The individual or the attention?”
“Both. I want to run away and hide.”
“Don’t we all! Rebecca, don’t overanalyze things just yet. You do that, you know.”
“So many odd things have happened to me.”
“This ‘Odd Thing’ may just suit you perfectly.”
“Yes? Go on.”
“You’re a good deal alike,” she laughed.
“Now, most of the people here would take that as the quintessential Genomex insult.”
“True! You are both perfectionists, articulate, intolerant of fools…”
“Very true.”
“Who else on site could handle the other?” Samihah was having a good time, giggling like a kid.
“A match made in Genomex,” I said.
“Are you going to name your first daughter after me?”
“Things have not progressed to that level.”
“No? Good, you have some sense. When are you going to see him again?”
“Tonight.”
“Tonight! Oh, Monday evening socializing. Oh, my you cannot be without the other’s company!”
“Say anything to anyone and I will contaminate all of your cell lines.” I was being playful, of course; I knew I could trust Samihah with anything.
“My lips are sealed. But you knew that.”
After work, I drove to my condo (collect my mail, pack a few things, check my answering machine, make sure my building was still there…) and over a gourmet nuked single dish dinner, I reflected upon the lunacy of recent days (Days? This was so new it could still be counted off in hours.) and how I had gone from misanthropic recluse to…well, what was I to Mason, and he to me? There was no good answer. If I thought about this for too long, I would become annoyed with myself.
What am I doing? I have no idea.
When I returned to Genomex, I called Mason to warn him I had returned. (Remember, he was always armed, and always prepared in his mind for an attack. I did not wish to be confused for that attack when I came through that door.) then I sat in the silence of the nearly empty parking lot for several moments, wondering once more what I was doing. I still had no answer.
This is so odd.
Mason had already changed into his black pinstripe jimmies with a heavy robe over those.
“Good evening, Rebecca.”
He is still surprised to see me come back to him. What will be required to get past that?
We had not seen or talked to one another all day.
“The carnations are lovely, Mason. Thank you.”
“You didn’t think I’d remember, did you?”
“People don’t typically remember me.” I smiled.
“I’m not anyone typical.”
“No. You’re not.”
I showered and put on my jimmies and bathrobe, and dried my hair as best I could with a towel.
I’ve got to talk to him about the temperature in here. This is not at all the social even Samihah imagines. Or that anyone could imagine.
Three steps back into the main living area, Mason ambushed me with a glass of…champagne.
“We’re celebrating?” I asked.
“Not exactly.”
I took a good look at what he had given me: champagne in a plastic glass.
“Stylish crystal pattern, Mason.”
He smirked. “Orrefors custom work.”
I rolled my eyes and took a sip. “Are you feeding me ethanol in the hope of a fortuitous outcome?” I was being playful. I walked over to the window, taking in the dark green waters of the lake.
Mason picked up his glass and followed me. “Well, no, but I’ll keep the thought in mind.” He stood behind me, gently gathering me close by folding his arms across me, just below my shoulders.
I was surprised but I did not flinch.
“No, the champagne is for me. I’m trying to find courage.”
“Courage? You?”
“There are serious things I must tell you. I’m fearful of losing you once you hear them.”
“That bad?”
“Yes. I thought about it all day…not telling you, or telling you any later, would be neither right nor fair.”
He put his head on my right shoulder, face pointed away from me. He wasn’t expecting anything good from this. I could hear it in his voice and feel it in the way he was holding me.
“I’m stronger than you might realize.”
“I recognize your strength. I admire it. It’s your inherent goodness that concerns me.”
“I’ve done a few interesting things just to survive, Mason. Things I don’t like to remember or talk about.”
‘I don’t doubt it. You could not begin to understand me if you did not know what crossing over the lines was like. But you’ve never done anything akin to what I’ve done. He released me. “Wait here.” He retrieved the bottle of champagne.
“Most men resent my strength,” I said.
Mason returned to the window, and sat down in the floor. I sat down facing him.
“I know. I’ve seen it. They resent you because they’re invertebrate weaklings and you’re not, never have been and never will be. I just hope you’re strong enough to cope with what I’m going to tell you.” He refilled our glasses.
“I’ve done many terrible things, Rebecca. I’m fearful that if you knew the whole of them…you would care for me no more, that no one could.”
I tried to lighten the moment. “I don’t have any illusions about the nature of what you do, Mason. I’ve known for some time that more went on at Genomex than the annual report implied. I’ve watched and listened carefully since my first day. I’ve pieced together quite a lot since 1992.”
What would his enemies have thought if they saw him at that moment, full of self-doubt? Probably none of them could imagine Mason questioning himself.
“You don’t know everything I’ve done. Some days I think that Genomex must screen to selectively hire gossips.”
“I’ve probably heard the stories.”
“You have not heard these. I’ve buried them with care. You may have heard suspicions of them. That’s why I would prefer telling you now than have you discover the truth later.”
“Mason, I know where a lot of bodies are buried. I’m not a gossip. People tend to confide in me because I can keep my mouth shut and not tell tales. Sometimes they tell me things I wish I had never heard. I once went shopping with a woman friend of mine. I worked with her husband, and had known them both for years. I liked them both. I envied them for having what seemed to be a solid relationship. This shopping expedition turned into an extended confession. For hours, she went on about the affair she was having, in great detail. By telling me any of it, she made me part of the deception of her husband.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. I treated the conversation as if it had never happened, except that my estimation of her was never the same, and I felt badly for her husband. I never told anyone. She never mentioned it again; I was grateful for that. Some things should remain secrets.”
“I don’t want you to hear these things from anyone else. Better for me to tell you willingly, freely, rather than have you piece together rumors, whispers, and lies.”
“Then tell me.”
“Paul Breedlove saved my life after the ‘accident’ many times. He may have been an old Nazi, and his lax attitude towards Adam may have made Adam what he is, but without Breedlove’s genius and creativity, I would be dead. Do you remember the talk I gave after the Archives section burned to the ground?”
“Yes, of course.”
“The talk was a lie, a fraud. Breedlove was murdered by a Genomex-created mutant. That part is true. However, he was one of my agents, and the deed was done at my direction, in my presence.”
He was watching my face carefully, trying to determine my reaction. Fortunately, I had schooled myself to a degree of control nearly the equal of his own. Breedlove had not been a friend of mine, but he had hired me, and treated me fairly most of the time. Mason’s confession was stunning.
“Mason, why?”
“Do you hate me now?”
“No.” I reached out and stroked the strange white hair and the biopolymer covered side of his face. “But I do need to hear your explanation.”
“I’m not proud of this, Rebecca. I am not a nice man. But there are tasks for which nice men are not suited, and the job I do is one of them.”
I harbored no illusions about Mason Eckhart. He was brilliant, complex, layered, and very damaged emotionally. I could not abandon him now, just as he opened his heart.
“You would not hurt me, would you? Or Grey? Or Deirdre and Michelle?”
He didn’t hesitate to answer. “I would protect my children or you with my life.”
“I know.” I knew the truth of it as I said it, even though it hadn’t occurred to me before.
“As long as Paul was actively involved in the daily operations of Genomex, I don’t believe he reflected on the nature or implications of the work he did with Adam. As he withdrew and left more and more of the decisions to me, he had more time to think, and the conclusions he reached were not pleasant.”
“Go on about Breedlove. I need to know the why of this. There must be a why.”
Mason controlled his emotions carefully. Observing him casually, one could conclude that he had none. In a society ever more bland and accepting of anything, many people had no strong beliefs because they honestly believed all things equal. Not Mason. Whatever he believed right or true, he held deeply and passionately. The mask of his persona hid a highly emotional nature. More than most people, mason knew exactly who he was and what he felt and believed.
“After a lifetime at or beyond the ethical boundaries of human medicine, Breedlove’s guilt began to overwhelm him. He planned to go to the press and make public everything that had been done at Genomex. The whole world would have known of the existence of mutants, their powers, their misuse of those powers, and the long-term genetic implications.”
“There would have been an uproar,” I said. “Panic in the streets. People are irrational about genetic manipulation. Shipments of genetically engineered food have been refused by starving nations. People would have been hurt or killed if they were suspected of being mutants.”
“Yes,” he nodded.
“Did you try to talk him out of it?”
“Of course. By this time, Paul’s accumulated guilt outweighed any rationality. By telling the world of his sins and misdeeds, he could feel some slight virtue, but the rest of us, the people charged with cleaning up his mess would have been a nightmarish task. Unfortunately, there was no dissuading him of this public revelation.”
“So you decided to kill him?”
“I had a particularly violent bodyguard at the time. The initial idea came from him. He was a telekinetic. I never saw anyone enjoy hurting people as much as Frank Thorne. A very sick man. He did the actual killing, but I was standing a few feet away. Thorne was so crazy he would have done the deed himself, but I decided that if I was going to order a man killed, I was going to have the stomach to stand there and watch.”
“And the fire was set to cover up the crime?”
“Yes. I started the fire.”
I sat silently. Telling the story of Breedlove’s murder, Mason had lightened the burden he carried, and passed along some of the poison to me, where it would lodge forever in my heart. I was disturbed by his grim revelation.
“Rebecca. Say something. Please.”
“I won’t pretend that I approve of it or like it, but your secret’s safe with me. As you are, though I’m not much one for darkness.”
Mason sighed. I had not run away, but I knew more was coming. I could tell he was bracing himself for the telling.
“I’m not done. There is more. Another killing.”
“Tell me.”
“I had a man working for me, a canine feral. Things went very wrong. I was vexed. I poisoned him. He collapsed on the floor in front of me within seconds.”
“How badly had he fouled up?”
“Not that badly. I was at fault as much as anyone. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“Why did you poison him?”
“As near as I can sort it out, I did it because I could.”
More dark poison for the heart, concentrated sticky, guilty darkness to cling to the soul forever. Now it belonged to me as well.
“Mason, that’s horrible.” I wasn’t going to lie to him.
“Yes. It was.”
“Does anyone else know?” I asked.
“No.”
“This secret is mine alone?”
He nodded.
“Is there any more?” Please, God, let this be the limit of these obscenities.
“No.”
I was glad of that.
“I believe you are essentially a good man to whom terrible things have happened. I believe you have dedicated your life to a demanding and noble cause. But along the way, you’ve become a little lost.”
“Sometimes I believe this job is destroying me. Between the duties and the people, sometimes I know I’m lost. I’m not making excuses for myself.”
“I know you’re not. I’ve never listened to such confessions. More than most of the people I work with, I have a good idea what really goes on here. My work supports the ‘black’ projects, too. I review summarized data from the entire site and some of the satellite facilities. But I’m not sure I could handle any more darkness.”
I’m not sure you could, either, Mason. The strain of telling was obvious.
“Then there won’t be any.” He sounded certain.
“Are you sure?”
“I swear it.”
“Have you considered leaving Genomex and the GSA?”
“Many times. My medical requirements could be met elsewhere, at a different federal agency. Or, with money from the settlement and accumulated pay –I have few expenses—I could duplicate this habitat privately.”
“Why do you continue?”
“I don’t believe anyone else would pursue this task with the seriousness and dedication it deserves. Many people have difficulty planning for the next week. Imagining humanity in fifteen generations, facing extinction, is beyond the capacity of all but a few specialists.”
“Yes. I can understand that.” He was correct. Long range thinking was not a commonplace habit.
“Explaining the implications to a post-literate, technologically ignorant society is all but impossible. They are unreasoning about genetically modified tomatoes.”
“So, you feel compelled to take up the task yourself. I’m not mocking you. I find it admirable, virtuous, ambitious—and unreasonable.”
“You are the only person on earth who perceives me in the terms I perceive myself.”
“You’re no monster.”
“Even after what I’ve told you?”
“You are no monster. Better the Prince to be feared than loved, Mason, but generate that fear non-lethally.”
Mask removed, Mason gave the impression of profound remorse and regret.
“I find it hard to believe you’re still here listening to me.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Spoken out loud, my sins sound so much worse.”
“I’m horrified and disturbed by what you’ve told me. Breedlove’s killing, well, that makes a desperate kind of sense. However…poisoning the other does not. You’ve made me part of that now. But I don’t think you would have told me if you did not have some trust and faith that I would listen carefully, and afterwards, be strong enough not to abandon you.”
“That’s true. You’re very strong and tough, and I mean that in a flattering way, not to imply you are masculine or coarse, because you are neither.”
“You did the right thing to tell me.” Fleetingly, I wondered if this knowledge put me at risk. From Mason. Then I dismissed the thought as quickly as it came to me.
“Unburdening myself this way was selfish, but if you found out any other way, you would feel deceived, betrayed, and duped.”
“Trust is everything.”
“Yes.” He took up my right hand, kissed the back of it lightly, then lifted my hand to my face, gently pressing it against my lips before releasing it. “I will try to be worthy of your trust, Rebecca. I know what it is like to have one’s trust and faith shattered.”
“There is much about you to like and admire. Why did you have to murder this man? You cannot murder people because they displease you. Mason, if you had to, how would you explain this to Grey?”
He thought for a moment. “There is no ‘explanation’. What I did was wrong.” He wore his pain transparently.
What would his enemies have thought of him at this moment, repentant, striving to build trust with another person?
“Am I going to lose you over this,” he asked.
“No. My concern is being taken for granted. You’ve seen my work for years. I’m reliable and dependable. I have to be to live up to my own standards. One thing I have never understood about people is the way people like me tend to be taken for granted, while the erratic ones, the ones who may or may not deliver, tend to get all the attention. Mason, I never take good people for granted. They are too rare. You must never take me for granted, although I don’t believe you would do that.”
“I cannot imagine anyone taking you for granted.”
I shrugged. “Some people believe they are owed special consideration without doing anything to earn it.”
No one who had ever received Mason’s infamous shark-eye glares would have believed it possible, but he looked…vulnerable. I wished I felt free enough to gather him up and hold, to assure him he would not lose me over confessed sins of the past, but only over a hypothetical act against me, a betrayal, a deception, a calculating use of me. I lacked the courage to take that risk.
Mason then almost smirked. “The least-deserving frequently possess the most grandiose expectations.”
“Do you think I would be here if I did not find your companionship special? I enjoy my own company very much. I prefer being by myself to being in ordinary, predictable company. Steve and I are eight years apart; it’s as if we’re both onlies. I’ve been alone all my life, Mason. I am choosing to be here.”
“But you were married for four years.”
I shook my head. “I was never more alone. Jeff had a pleasant façade and nothing inside. That’s the abridged version…and all I care to remember at present.”
Jeff was not a story I often chose to relive. Mostly I tried to forget we shared the same planet. My sister-in-law Sherri still schemed to get us back together. Sherri watched too much television.
“No one’s ever stood up for you and protected you, have they?”
“Professionally, yes. Personally, never.”
“With your permission, I would change that.”
How easy to sit safely at a distance and say I was wrong to linger with him but that is all too glib.
I’m not excusing Mason’s murder of Aldous Berkeley. There is no excusing the act. But Mason had been through enough personal hells…and so had I. I wasn’t going to compound the misery.
“I’m not going anywhere, Mason.”
I don’t think he expected that. He looked surprised.
“No?”
“Not tonight. Probably not ever.”
Outside, night had fully fallen.
I was exhausted. Careful listening could be hard work. I turned from Mason, and leaned against the glass, and closed my eyes.
“You look tired.”
“Suddenly, I’ve come up empty. And you?”
“I cannot believe I’ve done the telling.”
“And lightning failed to strike.”
There was a gap between my question and his reply.
‘Yes.”
“I was surprised by the sound of his voice, because it was so much closer than I had anticipated. I flicked my eyes open briefly, confirming what I already knew. Noiselessly, he had moved, sliding next to me, nearly touching.
“Where did you learn to be so quiet?”
“Prowling around this place late at night.”
“That must be really creepy.”
“It is. Breedlove –and Adam—were both afraid of the light. They burrowed several levels down, hiding their work as far as they could from the sunlight.”
“How much of this material is still in existence?” I asked.
“Most of it, except for the…human remains. Breedlove and Adam left them there like garbage. I consulted with a Roman Catholic priest, and others, then had the remains cremated, and buried decently.”
“I’d like to see what’s left.”
“It’s spooky, but safe enough. I’ll show you.”
“Someone besides you needs to see it.”
“True enough. I’ve copied the key documents, scanned them into assorted hard drives, and hidden both copies and hard drives behind these walls…and in other places. Someday, not today, the truth will need to be widely known. I’ve taken great care to preserve it.”
“Could you try not to look so grim?”
In a more perfect world, I would have been properly horrified by the story of Aldous Berkeley’s poisoning, broken off with Mason, found another job, and gone to the police and divulged what I knew about a murder.
The world is far from perfect. I had good reason to believe Mason had covered his involvement carefully so that there was no linking him to the poisoning. There may not have been a body or even a record of a person called Aldous Berkeley.
This line of thought implies that I acted out of fear of Mason, which is false.
Mostly, I acted to protect him. I’ve never been afraid of him.
Neither of us were trusting people, for good reasons from our pasts. If anything, Mason was more damaged than me, since I did not have the physical problems that burdened his daily routine. I hadn’t trusted another human being for years and neither had Mason. We had built up a fragile, tentative trust. If that was destroyed, I might trust again some distant day, but I knew Mason never would, and he would be justified.
So, within the imperfections of the real world, I stayed on.
Absolutely everyone believed that Mason never left Genomex save in the company of several armed GSA agents. There was no reason to believe otherwise.
So, one Saturday morning when he announced, “I need to do shopping for Deirdre and Michelle,” I assumed he meant shopping of the online sort. I was wrong.
When he emerged after a clothing change, in worn blue jeans, wire rim glasses, and a dark brown, shorter hair wig, the transformation was complete.
“You look surprised,” he said.
“I am.”
“Good. This possibility is not hinted at in the company lore, is it?” he asked.
“Definitely not.”
“Listen carefully: if I am seen like this inside Genomex, I identify myself as Martin Ertel. I carry Genomex ID confirming that. Martin even has a lab in an obscure corner of the facility, a name by the door, and an email account. I’ve made him as real as possible. If someone sees you with ‘Martin Ertel’, that’s who you say you were with.”
“Does Ertel get his own paycheck, too?”
“Directly deposited. Since Ertel reports to me, no one questions anything about him. If he seems never to be in his lab, he is assumed to be in the field. For the benefit of anyone watching me, Martin and I communicate a lot by email.”
“Nicely done.”
Mason laughed.
For the twins’ birthday, he wanted to personally select presents, not buy something out of a catalogue.
The girls were too young at the time of Incident X to have any memory of their father. All of their ideas about him had been gleaned from email and a webcam image. They knew his voice. They knew what he looked like now. I’d seen him spend hours every week with both of them.
They were aware of his health problems, naturally, but how strange it must be to know your father only electronically.
The arrangement seemed less awkward over time. Mason spent more hours with the twins than most of the guys I worked with spent with their children.
How was it this man could do murder? The poisoning of Aldous Berkeley still haunted me.
Upon returning to Genomex, I noted Dr Mayakovsky across the parking lot returning to his car.
Mason laughed. “By 10.30 Monday, nearly everyone in R & D will know you were seen entering the building with an unknown man. We should get your story organized. As soon as Mayakovsky tells him, Dr Harrison will come flittering into my office about a possible security breach. I’ll pull up the keycard records, and Ertel’s name, and assure him that you and Ertel both have legitimate reasons for being in the facility on weekends. Harrison will be deeply annoyed that there is no cause for concern, and bound back to Mayakovsky bearing Ertel’s name. By 1 PM, be ready for rude questions from the unmannered.”
“Mayakovsky is a pig.”
“You’re too kind to him.” Mason smirked.
“Interesting menagerie Breedlove assembled here when he hired all of us. Do you have many more secrets akin to this alter ego?”
“Not many…a few more small secrets. This site hides quite a history.”
“What would you like to do about Adam?”
“Interesting question…given all of my wishes, public disgrace would be a good beginning, not just for his ill-conceived science but for the way he has used individuals from the Genomex program to further his goals. I’m certain the current Mutant X ‘team’ has never been told that Adam fielded earlier ‘teams’ under different names, and that those individuals all disappeared from sight, with no explanation offered. Adam has the financial resources to support a ‘team’ three or four times the current four mutants. This would make much sense in terms of cross-training. But with a small group, it is easier to control memory of the past. Adam can tell these people anything, and they will believe him. If he had 12-16 people in his group, they would be far more prone to question him and recall the past.”
“Adam’s approach sounds suspiciously like a cult.”
“His recruits are selected on the basis of emotional dependence upon him. Adam requires people who will drink the Kool-Aid without thinking.”
“Where does Adam get his money? He never struck me as pragmatic enough to accumulate much cash.”
“I could never find proof that would hold up in a trial, but I am convinced that he embezzled some of the money. Breedlove always defended Adam. I found irregularities which pointed to Adam going back into the 1980s but Paul always discouraged my looking too closely. Adam could do very little wrong in Paul’s eyes. Breedlove’s relationship with Adam was more that of father and son than of professional colleagues. Or more like creator and creation. Paul protected Adam several times when the same behavior would have brought about anyone else’s dismissal.”
“Perhaps that explains Adam’s affinity for the felon in his group.”
“Perhaps it does. I hadn’t thought of that. Good catch.”
“What is Adam going to do when he runs out of money? Just keeping the Double Helix aloft is pricey; it must drink gallons per mile.”
“Good question. If he did not come by the money legitimately, there is no reason to believe the flow of cash can continue. I also have suspicions about a handful of people in finance. I have watched their careers and think they are likely to be mutants. They have obscured their original identifies, but with Adam’s contacts, he could find them no matter how well they hid themselves. I think he receives “donations” from them to maintain the so-called safe houses and support Adam’s daily operations. Such “donations” are little more than blackmail.”
“Adam didn’t fool many people here.”
“No. But as long as Breedlove backed him, that did not matter. Very frustrating, watching Adam get away with uncounted sins and Breedlove overlooking nearly all of them. Adam and Breedlove must have had some connection that none of us understands yet. Whatever the explanation might be, I’d still like to know if Adam is human…or otherwise.”
Mason was correct about the gossip mill. Once again, Samihah informed me what was going on at the edges of my universe.
“FYI. I’m not forwarding this to anyone but you. I thought you should know.”
Mayakovsky had been a busy boy. Samihah’s email forward contained the basic story—not much of a story—of my being recognized taking an unknown man into Genomex.
I forwarded the email to Mason, who replied almost immediately. As he predicted, Harrison had reported a security breach and seemed disappointed when shown keycard data identifying the ‘security breach’ involved a long-term Genomex employee. Mason said he thanked Mayakovsky by email for being observant and concerned.
At that point I sent Samihah email with the story about ‘Ertel’s’ car being in a body shop and that I had given him a ride to the facility. I doubted she would pass that back to Mayakovsky unless asked directly, but it was best to leave a trail which matched the one Mason had made.
I was surprised to realize how much I was enjoying the subterfuge and deception. Perhaps Mason was correct about my talents.
In late morning, one of Mayakovsky’s assistants dropped by my office to discuss some samples.
Melinda Schlachter found Mayakovsky professionally capable, but personally a buffoon. As she filled out the request form, she giggled, and said, “Dr M was convinced he had dirt on you this morning. He even talked Harrison into seeing Eckhart about it.”
“What?”
“He saw you admitting someone he didn’t recognize into the building. He was crushed when he found out the guy was another employee.”
“Martin Ertel. His car was being worked on and he needed to check on some things in his lab, so he asked me for a ride.”
“Dr M must have burned an hour trying to find someone who had talked to Ertel, someone who knew him.”
“I think he travels a lot,” I said.
“Who’s his boss?”
“He reports directly to Eckhart.”
“Lucky man.” She rolled her eyes.
“Well, Mayakovsky has to know everything about everybody. He was damn curious. It was entertaining to watch him frustrated.”
“Maybe sometime you should ask him what he knows about Adam.”
“Wow, where did that come from?” Melinda flashed a wide, surprised smile.
Everyone knew the subject of Adam was a sensitive one with Mason, so Adam’s name was rarely spoken. Most employees protected themselves by never mentioning Adam’s name at all. Saying anything might have been a mistake, but maybe Mayakovsky could be useful. He had been at Genomex almost as long as Mason and he had to know a lot about Adam.
“Ever worked with anybody else who had only a first name?” I asked.
“You have a point. Mentioning Adam within these walls is touchy business. Eckhart is nutty on the subject of Adam, probably with good reason.”
Like a lot of people who used to work with him, Melinda was not a fan of Adam.
“I’ve heard the same stories. I just wonder if you boss knows something he hasn’t gotten around to sharing. Mayakovsky was here in the “old days” when Adam and Eckhart were supposedly friends.”
Melinda giggled. “I’ll try. But I’ll have to be careful. I don’t want to draw Eckhart’s attention.”
Drawing Eckhart’s attention at Genomex was almost always a negative. Melinda was a good worker and didn’t have anything to worry about. Stories were told about Mason turning wrathful at the mention of Adam’s name. I understood Melinda’s caution. I nodded in silent agreement.
Melinda continued. “I had a one on one conference with him three years ago about a proposed project. Two hours and forty minutes alone with Eckhart. Well, he’s very intelligent and if you stick to business, surprisingly polite, but he creeped me out. He’s just a little too strange.”
Well, Melinda, what would you think of my sharing the man’s bed nightly? Willingly. Joyfully.
“He’s different.” I did not trust myself to say anything more.
“This entire outfit is peculiar.” Melinda giggled. “It’s been that way since I started here.”
I laughed. What she said was true. “Some of the oddest people I’ve ever known I’ve met as coworkers in labs. Most of the rest were assigned roommates during my undergraduate days. Sometimes I wonder what became of those people, such as the nursing student who believed in astrology but not science.”
Melinda shook her head. “If I find out anything about Adam, I’ll be sure to share.”
“Thanks.”
The topic of Adam came up much sooner than I anticipated.
Adam and his pitiful little band of pathetic followers had invaded the Genomex facilities in the past, but my labs were well removed from areas that held their interest. Nothing my section did was of much interest to him.
After a morning of mind-melding with chromatography software, I needed to get up and walk around. I created the mental excuse of needed more quadrille pads from supplies. Pads in hand, I took the long route back, which had the attraction of offering ceiling to floor windows. Sometimes I just needed to see the outside world.
I nearly collided with Adam. He was wearing sunglasses indoors, as if that was an effective disguise.
“Rebecca.”
We had not spoken in years.
“Returning to the scene of your crimes, Adam?”
His smile evaporated. While I worked with Adam, I took great care never to step outside my corporate persona. He had known me to be blandly businesslike. My question, with its implied knowledge was a surprise. I was not only older now, but more confident, with Mason’s attitude towards Adam internalized and made my own.
“So quiet Rebecca harbors an attitude after all.”
There weren’t any offices nearby. How was I going to report this invasion?
“You’re very tiresome,” I said. I turned and tried to casually walk away.
“I can’t let you wander off now. You’re going to have to come with me.” He grabbed my right arm.
“Are you threatening me?” I managed my best glare.
“You’ve become quite the handful. I had no idea you had this in you.”
“You have a lot to learn about a lot of things,” I told him.
Adam twisted my right arm. The pain was intense, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he was hurting me.
“Ever the gentleman, aren’t you? You can inflict pain on a woman. I’m impressed.”
“You’re beginning to sound like someone else I know. Time to get moving, Rebecca. You’ve wasted too much of my time already.”
A tall man affecting the dress of the young while on the threshold of turning to fat sauntered towards us. I recognized Adam’s not so bright electrical mutant follower.
“Who’s this?” the tall, dull-eyed mutant asked.
“Someone who knows me from the old days at Genomex,” Adam said.
“Someone who knows you for the dishonest sleaze you are, personally and professionally, someone always less than awed by you professionally and personally..”
Brennan Mulwray looked stunned. Probably he was accustomed to hearing only fawning worship of Adam.
We would be passing close to a fire alarm. I ceased my struggle against Adam, hoping that he would relax his grip…if I was quick enough, I might be able to activate the alarm, which in turn would activate cameras in this area, and bring security.
“You always were a pain, Rebecca.”
“I think you mean I’ve always been honest. I had a job to do supporting all of R&D, not just you. Interesting that Breedlove back me and not you.”
“He was well on the way to becoming an old fool.”
“Adam, why is it that anyone who disagrees with you is a fool or a sociopath?”
“You have been talking to the wrong people. I heard about your little medical adventure with Mason Eckhart. You need to learn to exercise greater selectivity in the people you help. A lot of people would have been pleased to see him die. You should have allowed him to thrash against the furniture. He could have had multiple concussions from the description I was given, but Rebecca had to meddle. Mason’s a sad little damaged man who should have died years ago. You had to give him another extension to his miserable life.”
I wrenched half-free of Adam, gaining just enough freedom of movement to pull the fire alarm and set all kinds of things in motion.
Adam was predictably enraged. He pulled me back from the wall, wrenching my arm in the process.
“Shouldn’t have done that, Rebecca.” Clearly he was unaccustomed to people acting against his wishes.
With my free hand, I swiped at Adam, connecting with his lower chin. I keep my nails short, but they are thin and very sharp. I was pleased to see that I had drawn blood, which meant I had scraped a layer of skin under my nails.
“Nasty!” Adam pushed me to the floor. “Zap her, Brennan!”
Brennan followed his master’s bidding, and zapped me with an electrical charge that threw me several yards down the corridor, until I glanced off a concrete wall. For a moment, I tried to move, but the main was too intense. I lay there still as I could.
Adam and Brennan ran off. I listened to their footsteps fade away, and then to the approach of many more people, probably security. I hurt far too badly to turn my head and watch their approach.
I was starting to ache all over, probably because the immediate threat had passed. I knew help was coming, so I simply lay there quietly, hoping I wasn’t bleeding to death internally too quickly for medical attention to make a difference.
Armed security reached me first, then a group of office workers. I’m not sure which group summoned the paramedics, but I heard a man make the phone call. Dr Hibbing arrived soon afterward.
Mason’s office was some distance from this corridor. He was the only person I wanted to see besides Dr Hibbing or Samihah.
I heard Mason before I saw him. The gathering crowd parted before him, without him saying a word. He had that effect upon people. He did not care to be touched by most people, and most people did not wish to be touched by him.
He kneeled next to me where I could see him. “You must have pulled the fire alarm.”
“Yes.”
“I watched what happened afterward.”
I could read him now, right through the exterior persona. He was horrified. I wondered how bad I looked.
I stretched out my left hand. “The blood and tissue under my nails belong to Adam. I thought you would find this an interesting sample.”
“Gathered at what cost to you?”
“Remove it before it’s contaminated.”
The fallen quadrille pads were scattered close by. He took one sheet, and folded it to form a sharp-edged tool, scraping tissue from beneath my nails, also giving him a plausible reason to be holding my hand in front of a gathering crowd of employees.
“The answers might be interesting but he’s a volatile, emotional creature. You took a dangerous risk,” Mason said.
He folded the gathered sample carefully inside of another sheet of paper, tucking that carefully into a pocket. He took up my hand again.
You’re betraying yourself in front of all these people. Is that wise? Hmm. People see what they expect to see. These people won’t see the obvious.
“Asking how you feel seems pointless,” he said.
“Everything, everywhere hurts. I scared. I hit that wall fast and hard.”
“I saw it.”
“I’m afraid I’m bleeding internally.”
“Adam has reached a new low point in his conduct. I did not think it possible.” Mason sounded restrained, but I could tell he was deeply angry. He turned to Dr Hibbing.
Hibbing shook his head. “The best thing is get you to an emergency room. I see not external bleeding, no indication of serious injury.”
I wondered if he was just trying to keep up my spirits, but no, he wouldn’t be less than fully honest in front of Mason.
I managed a weak smile. “I want Adam’s teeth for cufflinks. Brennan’s, too. Could you get them for me?”
Mason smirked, fleetingly, then looked up and saw the paramedics arriving.
“I’ll certainly try. I have to seal my office but I’ll be along shortly. I have to get out of the way of the paramedics.”
“Could you retrieve my wallet from my desk, and lock my office?”
“Yes. Two agents are going with you now. Adam is unbalanced. I’m not going to gamble and assume that he’s gone until the entire site is scoured.”
The paramedics moved quickly , securing me to a stretcher, on the way out the door and into an emergency room.
The good news was that I was bruised in a lot of places and my muscles ached from Brennan’s electrical discharge. Fortunately my injuries were assumed to be the result of a lab accident, and I did not have to describe the actions of the shocking Brennan Mulwray.
I was propped up in a hospital bed, feeling all soft and fuzzy from strong painkillers. Everything, from my pillow to the bed railing to Mason’s gloved hand felt soft and indistinct.
“Do you really think you should be here, Mason, now that you know I’m not going to croak?”
“Ashamed of me?” Mostly, he was playing, but a fraction of the question was firmly rooted in his insecurity.
“I’m concerned some hospital Bacillus from Hell will find you. Hospitals breed virulence.”
He was always surprised when anyone showed any personal consideration for his well-being. With me, at least, he was not suspicious of my motivations.
“No one dragged me here. I’m where I want to be. Dr Shah is very worried about you. She was relieved when I explained the nature of your injuries.”
“And where’s Adam?”
“Gone to ground.” Mason sounded annoyed. “He’s making this very personal.”
“Why was he in the building? Does anyone know?”
“No. I’m concerned. I have no idea what he was after.”
“How did he get away?”
“In his very own VTOL stealth aircraft. He can come and go almost anywhere at will. I’m surprised he has never tried bombing Genomex.”
“So he has to be caught on the ground?”
“Even full of painkillers, you still have the mind for this. Yes, he and his followers have to be seized on the ground.”
“Consider baiting a trap for him with a temptation he could not dismiss or ignore.”
“And what would that be?”
“You know him.”
“Bait that Adam could not resist…”
“Buried deceptively deep. Make it look easy to steal.”
“Adam can be very lazy. He makes his followers work hard, while asking next to nothing of himself.”
“If he’s going to send in surrogates, then they can lead you back to the place where Adam hides. There has to be a way. Heat signatures from an infrared satellite. There has to be a way, or ways.”
“You really want those cufflinks, don’t you?” he asked, smirking.
“Very much so. Adam’s made things very personal for me.”
After a lot of imaging and after being nearly sucked dry of blood, I was finally released.
Mason had sent his agents home hours before, (What kinds of places did guys like that call home, anyway? Was there a strange kind of boardinghouse that catered to them? Did they have a barracks somewhere? And where did one recruit these guys? And could any of them speak?) leaving behind one of the black Isuzus.
None of them questioned whether Mason had a driver’s license. Recall that he was believed to never leave Genomex without plenty of armed company. I knew he had one (and so did Martin Ertel) because I’d been with him when he renewed it.
After today, some of the assumptions people held about Mason would come into question. He had displayed concern for another human being, something he was believed never to do. Worse, he had shown concern for a woman, and that made him look human. The gossips would have no lack of fodder tomorrow, or even tonight, since they could be trading personal email and making phone calls.
“I’m concerned,” I said, buckling myself in. “I’m sure a lot of people went home today trying hard to recall what comments about you they had made in my presence and whether or not they would still have a job by week’s end.”
“You haven’t been ratting out these disloyal snakes all along?”
He was playing.
“I’ve been there when you walked in on tale-telling, and I never heard of anything coming of your hearing.”
“All I needed to do was throw them a threatening glare. If one chooses to rule by fear, one should expect also to be the subject of stories. Plenty of stories. Some created and encouraged by me.”
“Well, I am now on the periphery of that. I keep confidences. I don’t pass along gossip. Up until today, I believe I had the reputation of being honest and trustworthy. People will wonder now how much, if anything, I funneled your way, and how much, if any, influence I have with you. I will go from being Good Old Reliable Rebecca to Still Waters Run Deep Rebecca With An Unexpected Ally.”
“Enjoy the intrigue. Carry on as always.”
“I will. But there is more. How will employee perceptions of you change after today? What effect that will have upon your control of the organization?”
“I will have to be extra tough on everyone…take a lot of strolls through Mayakovsky’s section, for example. Make sure he gets something done. I’ve sold Dr Harrison’s division. I’ve looked forward to sealing the deal and telling Harrison he has one hour to remove himself from my sight forever.”
“You’ve shown you’re human. Tossing a few fraught-with-meaning glares at slackers will not set the clock back 24 hours.”
“There is something else to think about, which is that you will now be under scrutiny. Mayakovsky and his ilk will figure out that your car is always in the parking lot not only before dawn, but way before dawn, since the previous evening.”
“That, too.”
“Association with me makes you a target, not just of gossips, but of Adam.”
“You are accustomed to acting freely without considering anyone else. Can you change? That’s always been a strength, an invulnerability.”
“I’ll have to change how I think and how I conduct myself. Now you know why I pretend to have no contact with my children. For several minutes this afternoon, I learned what I would feel if you were taken from me. When I left my office, I thought you were dead.”
“Moving hurt too much. Some pain is punching right through the painkillers.” I tried to smile.
“I think we should marry.”
“Shall I presume you mean to each other?” I was playing, but Mason looked serious.
“Of course.” He wasn’t playing.
“Terrifying prospect.” I wasn’t playing.
“I cannot see how I am like anyone else who left scars upon you in the past.”
His self-assessment was completely correct.
“You’re serious.”
“Absolutely serious. I can easily invoke more protection for a wife, justify your training at the GSA range, and license for you to carry.”
“Very romantic. Right now, my thoughts are so soft and fluffy I would not trust myself to drive. I would not trust myself to push a shopping cart. The medication will have to wear off before I can think.”
“Fair enough.”
“But even with my thoughts gone all fluffy and indistinct, I’m inclined to be brave and try.”
“Really?” Mason was playing.
I avoid prescription medication except in circumstances of obvious need, so they seem to affect me strongly. I felt and sounded far away, not my usual self.
“Yeah. But I want those cufflinks for a wedding present.”
“Sounds a little ghoulish to me,” he laughed.
“Oh, it’s definitely not in the best of taste. Are you familiar with the story of Rosamund and Alboin?”
“No.”
“Well, it’s a warm and fuzzy tale about Alboin, King of the Lombards, who conquers Rosamund’s country, killing her father, the old king of the Gepidae.”
“The Gepidae and the Lombards are real enough, but this story is very obscure.”
“Absolutely it is. It’s the subject of a poem by Algernon Swinburne but told memorably in a Jack Palance movie called “Sword of the Conqueror”, which I saw when I was seventeen and never forgot. I’ve never been able to find a copy of it, and I have looked.”
“And you remembered it all this time,” he smirked. ‘Go on.”
“Well, Alboin has some misgivings about Rosamund’s loyalty, so he has her drink from a cup made from a skull! A wedding-present skull-cup!”
“Tasteful.”
“But that’s not the best part! Halfway through, Alboin tells Rosamund that the skull is her father’s!”
“Tell me she whacks Alboin over the head with it. Please.”
“O, no. Much better than that. She looks Alboin in the eye, and says, “I know”. So you see, cufflinks made from Adam’s teeth are tame by comparison.”
Mason smiled. My brain was packed floor to ceiling with bizarre stories like that of Rosamund and Alboin, and Mason was one of the few people on earth who appreciated them.
“There’s a line in the poem that you should put up all over Genomex to shut up all the whiners and complainers. Most of those people have no idea how well-off they are.”
“And the line?”
“Let none make moan.”
“Do you have any idea how silly the painkillers are making you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Are you too silly to look at rings?”
“No. I know what I want. Nothing ordinary.”
“Well, of course not! I would expect no ordinary wishes from Rebecca.”
I always found diamond engagement rings gaudy. Diamonds aren’t rare, anyway, just marketed well. I wanted an emerald.
Afterwards, when the industrial strength opiates had been flushed from my system, it occurred to me that Mason and I must have made a pretty pair. Mason looked bizarre anyway, but I was bruised, my clothes were dirty, and I was bandaged in a few places. Fortunately, we went to a shop where Mason bought good jewelry for the twins and was already known.
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Part 1
Part 2
Part 4
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