Gardener: The Roots Of Ancient Evil (17 page)

              “OK, so I’m leaving now, OK, don’t say anything for like an hour,” Molly said quickly.

              “Are you going to at least call me, or do I have to pretend you called me?” Becky asked.

              “I’ll call you for sure! But if I don’t, just say that I did, OK? When’s Melissa coming over?” Molly asked.

              “Like an hour. Can’t you send me a text, or maybe a picture?” Becky asked.

Molly was dying. She could barely sleep the last two nights. She didn’t think she’d ever kept a secret for this long.

              “Maybe I can send you a picture, maybe. But don’t. Tell. Anybody! OK?”

              “OK! I promise!” Becky said.

Now the hard part. Molly had a small bag, and she had to run downstairs, tell her mom goodbye. Her mom always knew when she was lying, so she’d have to be careful and not look at her. Mr. Keen didn’t say she needed anything, but she knew her mom would wonder if she left without a bag. She put in a change of clothes and her makeup bag, and zipped it up. She walked out of her room, head down, and turned down the hallway. The front door was to the left. If her mom was in the kitchen, which was in back on the right, she might be able to escape without having to talk to her.

              “Bye, Mom, I’m going to Becky’s,” she said, slowing slightly.

              “OK, sweetie, call me if you need anything,” replied her mom, still in the kitchen.

              “OK, bye.”

              “Bye, love you.”

              “Love you, too.”

She walked down to the sidewalk. The nearest bus stop that she knew about was in front of the library. It was only four PM, and her dad didn’t usually come home until five or six. She had to cross one large street where somebody might see her, but then it was only side streets to the library, and she’d be safe. She knew which bus to take, and what time, having looked it up online last night. She couldn’t find out much it cost, though, but she had over four dollars in quarters and dimes in her pocket. She’d never ridden the bus before, but she knew if she didn’t have exact change people might get angry. Hopefully somebody would get on the bus in front of her and she’d just copy whatever they did.

She got to the library ten minutes before her bus, relieved to see there were two other people waiting. The bus came and when she saw the word “airport” on front, she could barely contain her excitement. She was going on a private plane and was going to become a famous fashion model in Europe. So exciting!

              The bus pulled up to the airport forty-five minutes later. Now her excitement was quickly replaced by confusion. This place was so big! She’d been here before with her parents, but she’d just followed them and didn’t really pay attention to what they were doing. She called Mr. Keen.

              “Hello? I’m at the airport and I don’t know where to go,” she said.

              “That’s great, Molly, I’m glad you made it! OK, I’ll tell you what you need to do. Remember how the laws are different in America and Europe when it comes to modeling?”

              “Uh-huh.”

              “Well, it’s kind of the same with flying. Do you know your social security number?” he asked.             

              “No,” Molly said, suddenly worried. What if he canceled?

              “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you one, you can use this one, OK? I’ve already told them you are my daughter, so say your name is Molly Keen, and tell them this number,” Max said, while she wrote down the number he gave her.

              “Now, I’ll tell you how to get to the private section of the airport, only for people going on private jets, OK?”

              “OK!”

Max carefully instructed her, keeping her on the phone until she passed through security. At one point she had to hand the phone to a guy in a security uniform, who turned and looked out the window to verify the plane tail number, and then handed her back the phone. She walked back toward the window.

              “OK, look outside the window, you’ll see a white plane with the tail number NJ-1701, do you see it?” Max asked.

              “Yes!” Molly said, smiling.

              “OK, well, we are in line, but it’s kind of slow. You’ll be OK in that waiting room for about an hour, will you? When it’s ready, somebody will tell you, and you can just get on the plane, OK?”

              “OK!” she squealed, and looked around. She was in a very small area, and only about six other people were here. No movie stars, only guys that looked like super-rich businessmen. She really wanted to send Becky a picture of the plane, but Becky would tell Melissa, and her mom would find out within an hour, and she’d be grounded for life.

But if she was going to be a model, she’d probably get a lot of money, right? Didn’t all those child stars have parents that did whatever they told them? But she didn’t want to get her mom mad at her, or her dad.

Wait! Maybe her grandpa wouldn’t tell. He said she could always trust him with stuff she wanted to talk about. Would he tell? Would he even know what it meant to be a model? He was old, probably not. She walked up and down next to the big window, looking at all the other planes taking off and landing. She wondered where she would buy a house when she became rich. Spencer would definitely talk to her when she was a model. She just had to tell somebody. She sent a text to her grandpa.

              “Can you keep a secret?” she asked. Maybe he was busy.

A few minutes later he replied. “Yes. I can keep a secret,” he said.

              “I’m going somewhere, but you can’t tell anybody.”
              “OK. Where are you going?”

              “Secret. But I’m going on a plane,” she said. That way he wouldn’t know, and she wouldn’t get in trouble.

              “Really? Sounds fun!” he said.

She took a picture of the plane, but didn’t send it. “It’s a private plane!” she said.

              “Have fun!” he replied back.

Now she felt better. She looked at the clock. Only ten minutes? No way could she wait another fifty minutes!

              “OK, so just play it cool for now. Prieto will talk to Bradley once the security team is en route, and I’ll have Jamie look into Peter, your new lab guy. Are you OK?” Tommy asked.

              “I guess, for now, but this is really creepy, Tommy. Why would somebody do that to her, just to get to me, it doesn’t make any sense,” Viviana said.

              “I don’t know. I can’t even imagine why somebody would do this,” Tommy said, pausing.

              “We could go somewhere, hide out, I don’t really need to be here with Shea, I mean, I can work from anywhere, you could just stay with me if you wanted,” Tommy offered.

              “I know. But once Prieto talks to Bradley, I’ll have him get rid of Peter, and have him tell Sikes to take his money back. I won’t accept anything else,” she said.

              “I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” Tommy said. “Because then he’ll know we know, and we’ll never find who’s behind this.”

Viviana paused and let that sink in. “Shit. You’re right. That means Peter has to stay too. Call Prieto back and tell him to tell Bradley it’s for another reason. For the security guys, I mean. Will that work?” she asked.

              “Yeah, that’s a good plan. I’ll have Prieto tell Bradley he’s thinking of investing, but he’s not willing to do so unless you guys have a lot more security. Then you’ll have a separate group to follow you home or something,” he said.

              “You sure he’ll go for that?” she asked.

              “He’d better,” Tommy said, and she smiled.

              “OK,” she said and got back to work.

Tommy called Prieto and explained the situation a little better after having calmed down. They spoke for several minutes before they came up with a plan that made sense. Prieto agreed to fund GenSpan with a hundred million, enough to overshadow Sikes and to make sure he had the most say in the direction of the business, including their level of security.

At first Tommy was shocked at Prieto’s large investment, until Prieto convinced him that it made fairly good financial sense, and it was even a rather conservative investment. He explained that after having his research team look into it, there was very little chance that a hundred-million-dollar investment in a cutting-edge genetic research company wouldn’t pay significant dividends in the near future.

After taking another few minutes to calm down, Tommy focused on his primary task: finding a DNA sample of Shea. He had no idea where he lived, and he wouldn’t dare break into his house. He went outside to think while he strolled around. Viviana had explained that all he really needed was a smudge or a piece of skin or even a piece of hair, any of which could be easily acquired. It was just a matter of having a sterile collection kit. Viviana was going to put together various collection vials, and Tommy had brought a Ziploc bag in his pocket with him to work, just in case.

Outside, he noticed the world-famous gardener Marco had spoken with. He was standing outside the greenhouse, talking to what looked like a contractor. They seemed to be looking at plans or something, and were both motioning beyond the greenhouse. Tommy walked up to have a chat. Perhaps Shea really was a gardener himself. That would mean he might have used some of the tools inside, a potential source of DNA.

              “Hello, I don’t think we’ve officially met, Tom Ricker,” Tommy said, holding out his hand.             

              “Curtis Lusk,” he said, smiling.

              “So I hear you’re the George Clooney of gardeners,” Tommy said, looking inside the greenhouse.

              He waved a dismissive hand. “Well, I don’t know about that, but I’ve worked on developing some fairly recognized gardens,” he replied. “Please come in, let me show you my work.” He nodded to the contractor, who turned his attention back to the plans he carried.

Tommy followed Luks into the greenhouse, trying to remember the last time he’d been in one. Elementary school, probably.

              “It turns out our employer is very knowledgeable in the art of horticulture,” Lusk explained.

              “Oh yeah? How do you mean?” Tommy asked.

              “Well, just the questions he asks and how he responds to my answers tells me he knows a lot more than most,” Lusk said, as they casually strolled amongst all the flowers.

              “Maybe if I had a couple trillion lying around I might learn a thing or two about flowers,” Tommy joked. “These are really amazing, I’ve never even seen half of these, not that I know anything about flowers, but these look better than anything I’ve even seen on TV.” The colors were truly stunning, ranging from deep reds to bright purples to lush yellows. He couldn’t help leaning down and smelling them. Lusk smiled.

              “Try this one. Purple stock, considered the best-smelling flower,” he said.

              “Wow!” Tommy said.

              “You married?” Lusk asked.

              “Girlfriend.”

              “Give me a day’s notice, and I will create for you the most beautiful and fragrant bouquet your girlfriend will ever experience,” he said.

              “I didn’t even think about that!” Tommy said, astonished. He didn’t even know if Viviana liked flowers, but damn if he wasn’t going to find out. “Think you could put something together for later today? She’s had a bit of a setback at work, and these might just do the trick,” Tommy said.

              “Of course. What kind of work does she do?” Lusk asked.

              “She’s a genetic researcher.”

              “Perhaps she would like to meet our boss. They may have something in common,” Lusk said.

              “What do you mean?” Tommy asked.

Lusk nodded for Tommy to follow him to the back of the greenhouse. There was a small plot about ten square meters. Several small sprouts, about an inch in length, were carefully spread out evenly among the fresh soil.

              “I believe that Mr. Shea has a hobby of genetically engineering his own flowers,” Lusk said.

              “How do you know?”

              “Mr. Shea brought these to me just a few days ago. Insisted he plant them himself. Was very mysterious about where they came from, but I’m almost certain they were created in a laboratory, probably somewhere on the grounds here,” Lusk said.

              “How the heck do you know all that?” Tommy asked.

              “Well, these sprouted maybe a day before he planted them. And they sprout maybe a day or two after the seeds are planted. So they couldn’t have come from very far away.”

              “And how can you tell they came from a lab?”

              “I can’t explain it exactly, but I’ve learned to tell the difference, with surprising accuracy, between flowers that were sprouted in sunlight and flowers that were sprouted in a lab with high-powered artificial light. Similar to the special lighting used to grow indoor marijuana,” Lusk explained.

              “Oh yeah, I know what you mean. A buddy of mine had some of those in college. The whole inside of his closet was covered in tin foil,” Tommy said, laughing. “So you think Shea has some kind of secret flower lab here, huh?”

Lusk laughed. “Well, people like you and me may grow them in our backyards. Maybe take a class at Home Depot. But people like Mr. Shea can afford to genetically engineer their own,” he said.

              “How hard is that?” Tommy asked.

              “Not very. Disneyland, for example, has roses within its parks that do not grow anywhere else on Earth. The botanist who engineered them is an associate of mine,” he explained.

              “So Shea’s got a secret underground flower lab. You said he planted all these himself?” Tommy asked, wondering if he’d left any tools lying around. Lusk nodded. They both turned their heads as the contractor had come inside and was motioning to Lusk.

              “Do you mind?” Lusk asked. Tommy shook his head. “Please stay as long as you like, just please don’t disturb Mr. Shea’s creations,” he said, smiling before walking away.

Tommy walked around the outside of the small plot of ground containing the recently planted flowers. He spotted a small shelf with a few gardening tools. He found what appeared to be a small concave knife that still had dirt on the blade. It looked like a tool one would use to plant seeds or sprouts. The handle was sufficiently rough that it might have scraped off enough skin for a sample. But only if Shea hadn’t been wearing gloves. It was worth the risk. Tommy checked the front; both Lusk and the contractor were out of sight. He picked up the small tool by the tip of the blade and put it in his Ziploc bag. As he slowly wandered out of the greenhouse, he allowed himself to imagine Viviana happily receiving a bouquet of whatever masterpiece Lusk would arrange for her.