Alien Nation #3 - Body and Soul (28 page)

“He was here earlier,” said Cathy. She turned to the nurse on duty. “Did the guard leave?”

“No,” said the nurse, looking puzzled. “But you know . . . I don’t think I saw him since those two Newcomer doctors came by . . .”

George and Matt looked at each other, and then pulled their guns and ran ahead, with Sikes gesturing to Cathy that she should hang back.

They darted inside the room.

The walls had been spray-painted with Purist symbols and the slogan, “2-4-6-8, SLAGS AND HUMANS WILL NOT MATE.” Cathy gasped upon seeing it. Sikes and Matt, meantime, spotted Officer Beach lying on the floor, eyes open wide but looking at nothing.

George crouched down next to him, shaking his head and passing his hand over Sandy’s eyes, closing the lids. Sikes heard George murmur something in Tenctonese, probably some benediction for the dead. Personally, Sikes felt like a creep. No “Son of a Beach” jokes for the fallen officer. No children for his new wife. Just a knock at the door when two officers came to inform her that her husband wouldn’t be coming home. “Bastards,” he said.

He crossed quickly to the crib, trying to tell himself that the best thing he could do for Sandy now was get the bastards who had done this. “She’s gone,” said Sikes.

Cathy was looking around. “The Purists did this . . .”

Sikes didn’t even bother to look. “Yeah, you kinda get that idea. But I have my doubts. How about you, George?”

“The nurse said that two Newcomers were the last ones in here. Newcomers obviously wouldn’t be Purists.”

“But they could have sneaked in here afterward without the nurse seeing them,” Cathy pointed out.

“True,” said George. “But the Purists simply would have killed the baby. Not taken her.”

That point seemed fairly incontrovertible. “Then who?” demanded Cathy. “Why?”

“Chorboke,” said George firmly. “For some reason, he wanted them.”

“We gotta find out who this Chorboke is,” said Sikes. “And where he is.”

“The baby’s in critical condition,” Cathy said, checking the last notations that had been made on the baby’s chart. “You don’t have much time.”

“No,” said George with a deep, burning anger, looking down at Sandy’s body. “It’s Chorboke who doesn’t have much time.”

Mr. Brown, he of the deep, sunken corner of the federal building, looked up in surprise as George Francisco and Matt Sikes seemed to simply materialize in front of his desk. He opened his mouth to say something by way of greeting, but without preamble George said, “Chorboke was involved in Opsil. What human name was he given?”

Brown blinked owlishly. “I can’t tell you that,” he said with the air of someone who was surprised that such a topic would even be broached. He sounded almost scolding.

Sikes slammed a palm on his desk. “Somebody’s gonna die if we don’t find him!”

“That information is still classified,” said Brown serenely.

Sikes leaned forward. “How would you like me to pull your stomach out through your mouth?”

“Violence won’t accomplish anything, Sergeant.”

“Yes it will. It’ll make me feel a hell of a lot better. Why is the government protecting him? Answer me!” His voice was getting extremely loud.

“It’s part of the deal,” sighed Brown. “You want something from somebody, you make a deal. You guys do it all the time.” He actually smiled, as if that explanation was so simple that it solved everything.

“Chorboke is a monster!” George said, furious. “What could you want from him?!”

Brown snorted. “Monster. Such a word,
monster.
The man’s a genius! He knew more about genetics than anyone on earth! You don’t waste a mind like that simply because of negative labels.”

George lost it.

He grabbed Brown out of his seat and held him high in the air. Brown’s arms and legs writhed madly. “A ‘genius’?” George spat out. “Do you know how many people this genius tortured and murdered?!”

“He’s done some great things for this planet! Lemme go!” howled Brown. “This is police brutality!”

“You’ll need a witness to make that charge stick,” Sikes informed him. “I don’t see anybody else around, do you?”

George tightened his grip. “What great things? Did he make some chemical weapons? Nerve gas, perhaps?”

“I was diabetic!” Brown squealed, his voice rising an octave. “If it hadn’t been for Chorboke, there wouldn’t be a cure!”

There was a dead silence.

George threw Brown down. He landed in his wheeled chair, and it shot back and smacked into a wall, rattling Brown’s teeth.

“Thanks for your help, pal,” Sikes called over his shoulder as they strode out.

“Diabetes . . . Hadrian Tivoli,” said Sikes as they headed for the car.

“Chorboke,” said George. “And we may have found out too late. By the time we find the child and bring her back—”

“Then we don’t take the time, George. We take the giant with us.”

“Grazer will never permit it.”

“Not a problem,” said Sikes. “We’ll use finesse.”

Captain Grazer, walking down a corridor, was surprised to see Albert coming from the other direction, wheeling a large laundry cart. He stepped in his path and Albert stopped, looking up at him politely. “Yes, Captain?”

“Albert, what is this?” He scanned the top of the cart.

“Laundry, sir. We’re sending these vests out to be cleaned.”

“Bullet-proof vests?” said Grazer incredulously.

“Yes, sir. Dry-cleaned, sir.”

“Why?”

“Order came down, sir. I was cleaning up in your office when the call came from the chief, sir. Something about trying to improve the look of the force. Actually, he said it was supposed to have been done a week ago and wanted to know if you’d taken care of it.”

“I don’t remember getting a memo about that,” said Grazer nervously.

“To be honest, sir, he seemed rather upset that you weren’t there to tell him personally. Something about ‘endless lunches.’ ”

Grazer swallowed.

“I’m . . .” Alfred looked embarrassed. “I’m afraid I lied, sir. I told him that you’d already told me to take care of it. I didn’t want to risk him getting more upset with you, sir. He told me that if you already were on top of it, there was no need to call him back. In fact, he sounded kind of pleased that you’d already done it. But if you want, you can call him back and clarify that—”

“No! No, Albert. That’s . . . that’s fine,” said Grazer. He patted Albert on the back. “Good work.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Albert kept on pushing, and then the captain called, “Albert!”

“Yes, sir?”

He pointed a finger and smiled. “I owe you one.” He walked away, relieved. Between this and being able to announce that the baby was not a hybrid, he was going to be completely square with the chief.

Moments later, Albert had pushed the cart into the alleyway. He glanced right and left, and then said, “Okay.”

Sikes and George clambered out from under the vests, shoving them aside. And then they hauled out the giant, whom they had practically had to bend in half in order to get him to fit. But he had put up no resistance whatsoever. Quickly, they crammed him into Sikes’s car.

“Albert, you’re a champ,” said Sikes.

“I didn’t like lying,” Albert admitted. “But . . . it was to help the giant. It was a good cause. And you know, now that I’ve tried lying, I’ve found I’ve got a talent for it.”

“Good for you,” said Sikes. “You’ll find that’ll serve you well in married life.”

T
WO SECURITY GUARDS
in the front entranceway of Dual Pharmaceuticals looked up in surprise as two uniformed police officers charged in. Their surprise turned to shock when two men in street clothes, one of them a Newcomer, came in on the heels of the two uniformed cops; and shock became pure numb amazement when directly behind the two men in street clothes lumbered in a giant Newcomer who was looking around the lobby as if he were in a sort of haze.

“Police!” snapped Matt Sikes. “We have a warrant to search these facilities.”

One of the guards grabbed for a phone, but George—with deathly calm—merely yanked the phone off the wall. He handed the unit to the guard without a word.

“Keep an eye on these two,” Sikes told the uniforms. They nodded briskly.

Both of the uniformed cops were Newcomers. Both of them had been friends of Sandy Beach. And both of them, when asked by George and Matt if they wouldn’t mind not noticing that a giant Newcomer was accompanying them on this bust, had simply replied, “What giant Newcomer?”

Sikes turned to the giant. He had no idea if the big guy could understand him or not. But he said, “Let’s go find her.” He grabbed the giant by one arm, George took him by the other, and they headed upstairs.

They got in the elevator and Sikes punched all the buttons. The elevator started up as the giant stood there listlessly. The car stopped on the second floor, and there was no reaction from the giant. Nor on the third.

[
“She’s somewhere here.”
] said George intensely. [
“You have to find her.”
]

No reaction on the fourth. And on the fifth . . .

The giant looked up. It was more instinctive than anything else, as if he had not consciously realized that he was reacting to something.

It was enough for Sikes and Matt. They pushed him out onto the fifth floor.

Before them stretched a corridor with doors lining either side. They were labeled simply “Laboratory A,” “Laboratory B,” and so on.

They started down the hallway, using the giant as something akin to a Tenctonese divining rod . . . waiting for him to react in some way that would tell them that the infant was nearby.

“Where is she?” Sikes demanded of the mute giant. “Where is she?”

The giant’s eyes remained glazed, his face expressionless.

[
“You can do it.”
] George urged him.

They stopped in front of one lab door after the other. “Come on, pal,” Sikes said nervously. For all he knew they were on the wrong floor. “You getting any vibes?”

And then, in front of the eighth door, the giant suddenly raised his head. But he wasn’t looking at the door they were facing. Instead he seemed to be focused farther down the corridor. He started off at a lumbering run, clumsy but distance-consuming because of the length of his legs.

“He senses her,” said George with certainty.

Sikes was in no position to argue. They ran after him as fast as they could.

They caught up with him, because he had come to a halt in front of a large sealed door marked “No Admittance.” He shoved against it, moaning pitifully.

“Let’s give him a hand,” said Sikes.

They threw their weight against the door. With a wrenching crack, the frame gave way and the door flew open.

It was the interior of a lab. At the far end was a crib, and Hudson River and Bic Penn, both in guard uniforms, looked up in surprise as George shouted, “Police!”

River was standing in front of the crib, Penn behind it. River immediately went for his gun, and he was a damned quick draw. He actually got the weapon clear of its holster, and then George fired. The blast blew River back, sending him crashing into a wall.

And now Penn was in the clear.

But he was holding the baby . . . and a gun to the baby’s head.

“Back up!” he shrieked. “Back up and get out or I’ll kill her! I swear I will!”

Sikes and George froze.

But the giant did not. He did not fully understand the impact of what Penn was saying. All he knew was that the baby was there and was threatened, and he was going to get her no matter what.

He charged forward, heedless of anything else.

Penn was startled, not expecting it, and as he saw the giant bearing down on him he did the natural thing—he swung his gun up and fired at the giant. But it was a hurried shot, and a nerve-racking one, considering the behemoth that was charging him. The bullet struck the giant a glancing blow on the arm, and the giant roared.

At the exact same instant, the baby shrieked in matching pain. She twisted so violently that Penn lost his grip and the baby tumbled out of his arms.

Seeing the baby falling, the giant hurled himself forward in a desperate lunge. He caught the infant in his outstretched arms just as she reached the ground.

Penn brought his gun around and was about to fire point-blank. He was not going to miss.

Neither were Sikes and Francisco. They fired together and Penn was blown completely off his feet, his gun falling out of his hand. Penn crashed backward over an examining table and lay still.

The giant was oblivious to everything that had happened. He held the infant against his chest tenderly. Then he half turned and angled her toward the detectives, so that they basked in the glow of her angelic face.

“Thank you,” said the giant, the voice of the infant passing through the mouth of the titan.

It was at that moment, having a few seconds to breathe, that Sikes and Francisco slowly became aware of their surroundings.

Eerie geometric shadows crisscrossed the room. There were shelves lining the walls, and each of those shelves had large jars in rows, carefully labeled with dates and notations. They were connected to what appeared to be some sort of giant circulatory feeding system through a common umbilicallike cord.

And in each of the jars, floating in embryonic fluid was . . .

“What is this?” demanded Sikes. “Those things in the jars . . . I remember . . . Vessna was . . .”

“Newcomer pods,” George said coldly. “Yes. He’s creating in vitro life.”

“That’s correct,” came a passionless voice.

Tivoli had entered, looking utterly self-possessed. Sikes didn’t like it. He seemed entirely too self-confident for someone who should be concerned about going down big time.

“Chorboke,” said George in a cold fury.

“You,” said the Newcomer once known as Chorboke, “have no right to be in here.”

The giant was whimpering. He clutched the infant tightly to himself and backed away.

“You’re under arrest, Doc,” Sikes informed him.

Tivoli laughed. “On what charges?”

“It should be for the murder of thousands!” George could barely contain himself.