Origin - Season One (12 page)

The picture changed again to the studio where the anchor appeared to be unaware he was back on camera. He was reading something from the screen on his desk when he suddenly looked up, flustered. “And we’ll return to the town of Morisson shortly, but we’ve just received word that two local residents have also been reported missing. We’re waiting for confirmation of the names, but this surely adds yet another mystery to what is already a very confused scene. We’ll of course bring you more as soon as we get it.”

Marius looked up at Jack. “We need to call Carl.”

Jack seemed not to hear him. His eyes were fixed on the screen.

“Jack, we need to wake up Carl.”

“What?”

“This is serious shit, Jack. Rollins is dead. And the Ross woman. What the hell happened?”

“I don’t know,” Jack said, still not quite able to comprehend what was going on. “I need a minute to think.”

“I’m calling Carl,” Marius said and reached for the phone.

Jack grabbed his arm. “Don’t.”

“Why not?”

All thoughts of lies and why you shouldn’t tell them fled Jack’s racing mind. He clutched at the first thing that came into his head. “Carl is the one behind this. I couldn’t tell you before because we didn’t know if you could be trusted.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jack sat down in the chair next to Marius and did his best to look as grave as possible. “Caroline called me from Zurich a couple of weeks ago. She told me that a company had been buying technology from someone inside Skyline. Not just from Albion. She said it had to be someone here because everything was being downloaded from the mainframe and printed off. We thought it had to be you at first. But I began to follow Carl, you know, just in case. He’s been meeting Gerald Ross.”

Marius looked like he had suddenly developed Down’s syndrome.

“Marius?” Jack said.

“What?”

“You okay?”

“I don’t understand. How…”

“It’s all right. I didn’t believe it myself at first.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Marius said.

“Nothing. We let him think he’s gotten away with it. I’ll deal with Carl. What I need you to do is carry on as usual. If I need your help, I’ll ask. Can you do that?”

Marius nodded. “I don’t know. I guess, yeah.”

“Good. I need you to keep your shit together. Caroline is sending Titov. All we need to do is sit tight until he gets here.”

Sainte Eulalie, Quebec

Tuesday 18 July 2006

0745 EDT

Big John turned on the hazard lights, downshifted and eased off the highway onto the escape lane. When the truck came to a stop, he held out a hand to Francis. “It’s been a pleasure, sir.”

“You’re an all-American hero,” Francis said.

Francis climbed out of the cab and stood stretching his legs. Amanda and Jesse climbed over the seat and followed him down.

“You kids take care,” Big John said.

“Thanks for the ride,” Amanda said.

“Nice truck,” Jesse added. “Really awesome.”

Francis climbed back up the steps and handed Big John five hundred-dollar bills.

“Not on your life,” Big John said.

“It’s not for the ride. I’m going to ask you not to tell anyone about this.”

“I gathered you would. I can keep a secret, don’t you worry.”

“I’m sure you can but I’d feel a lot better knowing I’d made it worth your while.”

Big John hesitated, then took the money. “I’ll accept it as a contribution to my daughter’s tuition fund.”

“Glad to hear it,” Francis said. “Drive safe.”

“Always do.”

They stood watching until the truck was out of sight. Amanda looked around at the desolate landscape and rubbed her eyes. “Great. Now what?”

“We walk,” Francis said.

“Where?” Jesse said.

“There’s a town about fifteen miles in that direction,” Francis said, pointing across the highway at a two-lane road that marched straight as an arrow into the flat country beyond.

“Fifteen miles?” Amanda said.

“It sounds worse than it is,” Francis said.

“Really? Because to my mind fifteen miles is where the earth ends in walking terms,” Amanda said.

“Chances are someone will stop. People out here almost always do.”

“I hope you’re right,” Amanda said.

“Come on,” Francis said. “The sooner we get moving, the better.”

Francis set off across the highway and Amanda fell in behind him, but Jesse didn’t move.

“Okay, kid. Out with it,” Francis said.

“I’m not going anywhere until we get some answers,” Jesse said.

It was obvious Jesse had been planning this little mutiny. It was in the eyes and the way he tried to look calm, despite clearly being anything but.

“Bearing in mind I don’t know that much myself,” Francis said, “what would you like to know?”

“Who are you? That would be a good start.”

“Can this wait until we get off the highway at least? It’s not a good place to have a conversation when you’re on the run.”

“Fine. But then you start talking.”

“All right.”

They crossed the highway and cut over a field to avoid the junction. When they reached the road Francis set the pace and positioned himself between Jesse and Amanda. “Okay, I’m all ears.”

“What’s your name?” Jesse asked.

“I’ve got a few.”

“Great. So what should we call you?”

“Call me whatever you want,” Francis said.

Jesse stopped. For a second Francis thought the kid was going to take a swing at him. “I’m being serious! Do you understand the idea of empathy? Do you see how goddamned crazy all this is to me? To
us
?”

Amanda put a hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “Take it easy, Jess. I’m sure he’ll tell us.”

She looked at Francis. “Right?”

Francis studied them for moment. “Okay, call me Eddie. It’s what my mother wanted to name me.”

Jesse shrugged as if to say he didn’t care one way or the other. Francis began walking again. For a minute none of them spoke, then Jesse said, “Are my parents – our parents – in danger?”

“I’d like to promise you that they aren’t,” Francis said. “But I don’t think you’d believe me. And calling them wouldn’t change that, if that’s what you’re thinking. If you want my opinion though, I’d say they aren’t.”

“What makes you so sure?” Jesse asked.

“I didn’t say I was sure. But harming your parents would achieve nothing as long as you don’t contact them and they can’t get hold of you. I’m assuming neither of you has spoken to them about the drive.”

They both shook their heads.

“Good. Then I’d say they aren’t in any danger. Does anyone else know?”

They shook their heads again.

“Well, that’s a start. What else do you want to know?”

“Were you following the woman?” Jesse asked.

“Yes.”

“How did you know she had the drive?” Amanda asked.

“Her husband was a friend of mine. He’d given it to her.”

“Because the people looking for it knew he had it?” Jesse asked.

“That’s right.”

“Where did
he
get it?” Amanda asked.

Francis hesitated. “I gave it to him.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Amanda said.

“He was going to look at it for me. See if he could find out what was on it.”

“So you got her killed,” Amanda said.

“Yes, I got her killed,” Francis said. “For what it’s worth, I had no idea they were in any danger when I gave it to her husband.”

Jesse was about to ask another question when they heard the distant sound of an engine behind them.

“Don’t turn around,” Francis said. “If it stops, we’ll accept the ride. If not, we keep walking.”

They heard the car slow down. When it passed them they saw it was a pickup truck. It moved onto the side of the road and stopped.

“Jump on and wave to the driver,” Francis said. “If he says anything, I’ll do the talking.”

They climbed in. Jesse and Amanda both gave the driver a wave. He waved back without looking around and pulled back onto the road. Fifteen minutes later they crossed a bridge and entered the town of Trois-Rivieres. Five minutes after that Francis leaned back and tapped the roof of the cab twice. The man pulled to the side of the road and stopped.

“Jump off and give him another wave,” Francis said.

They did and the man waved back, no more interested in who they were than he had been when he picked them up.

“That was a bit of luck,” Amanda said.

“Not as lucky as you’d think. This is rural Quebec, not Los Angeles. People in this part of the world are wired differently.”

“You’ve been here before?” Amanda asked.

“Once or twice.”

Francis led them down the road for another half-mile and stopped outside a fenced-in compound full of vehicles. There were several pickup trucks, a couple of vans and two flatbed trucks parked neatly in two rows. All were light green and had the provincial seal of Quebec decaled on the doors.

“This is the park warden’s station,” Francis said as they approached the gate. He pushed a button on the intercom and said something in French. Someone answered in the same language. A moment later a man stepped through the door of a small brick building in the corner of the lot. He wore green pants tucked into brown leather knee-high boots and a matching jacket with a furry collar. A crop of dark gray hair sprung from the rim of his baseball cap, and he had a short trimmed beard of the same color. As he approached he lifted a hand and waved.

“Bonjour, Maurice! Comment allez-vous?” the man said, smiling at Jesse and Amanda.

Francis replied in what sounded like fluent French and the two men chatted for a minute. Amanda turned to Jesse and whispered, “Maurice?”

Jesse shrugged. “The man with a hundred names. One for every place he visits, probably.”

When they were done talking the man turned and walked back to the building.

“So, Maurice, what’s the plan?” Amanda said.

Francis laughed and adjusted an invisible beret on his head. The gesture looked so stupid that even Jesse couldn’t help laughing with him, despite his glum mood.

“Valerie is going to take us to Lake Commissaires. It’s a three-and-a-half-hour ride, so you’ll be able to get some more sleep if you need it.”

“And who exactly is Valerie?” Amanda asked, looking amused.

“An old friend.”

“And when we get to this lake, will your Mountie friends take us the rest of the way on horseback?” she asked.

“Very funny,” Francis said.

“Just asking,
Maurice
.” Amanda teased.

“I’ve told Valerie you’re a niece and nephew of mine from the States. It would make things much easier if you played along.”

“No problem, Maurice. Anything you say,” Amanda said, unable to let it go.

Valerie returned behind the wheel of a passenger van and motioned for Jesse and Amanda to get into the back. Francis got in beside Valerie and said something that made his friend laugh and look back. Amanda stuck her tongue out at Francis and said, “I took a little French in high school, so don’t think you two can sit there making fun of us.”

“Perhaps you tell me a joke en Français?” Valerie said in heavily accented English.

“Maybe later,” Amanda said and turned to look out the window, pretending to be more offended than she was.

Valerie turned out of the compound onto Route 155 and headed north. Amanda and Jesse, still exhausted, both fell asleep again within minutes. Francis, seemingly impervious to the effects of sleep deprivation, stayed awake and kept his friend company. As they drove, the towns along the route grew smaller and farther apart. For the first hundred miles the road followed the Sainte Maurice River, then veered northeast through the town of La Tuque toward Lake Saint Jean.

When they reached Lake Commissaires, Valerie pulled off the road about a mile from the small town of the same name and onto a dirt track that led to the lake’s eastern shore. Francis had woken Jesse and Amanda fifteen minutes earlier and they had been gaping out at the wilderness, unable to take in the sheer size of the place. With the exception of the winding road, there were no signs out here that man had ever existed. No matter where you looked, all you could see were trees against the clear blue backdrop of endless sky.

“What’s the opposite of claustrophobia?” Amanda asked.

“This!” Jesse said.

“Welcome to ze middel of nowhere,” Valerie said. “Just bear and elk and beaucoup d’arbres.”

“Don’t let him scare you,” Francis said. “This is one of the most beautiful places you’ll ever see. Trust me.”

They watched Valerie drive back to the road and turn left toward the town. When he was gone, Francis pulled his backpack over one shoulder and set off in the direction of the lake. “You guys coming?”

“Are we going to swim across?” Amanda asked.

“No need. I’ve got a boat.”

Amanda thought he was kidding at first, but when they saw the small wooden shed nestled on the bank, her heart sank.

Jesse looked at Francis. “Amanda’s not really a boat person. Are you, Mandy?”

“There’s no
really
about it. I’m not a boat person, period. And you can thank this guy for that,” she said pointing at Jesse.

“We’ll make sure it doesn’t have any holes in it,” Jesse said.

“You better.”

“I’m sure–” Jesse said, then paused, trying to remember what Francis had suggested they call him. “I’m sure Eddie has taken good care of it.”

“Don’t you mean Maurice?” Amanda asked.

“I’m sure
Maurice
has taken good care of it,” Jesse corrected.

“Seriously, that’s starting to get a little old,” Francis said. “Now give me a hand getting this thing into the water.”

When he finished mounting the small outboard motor, Francis stood up, leaned forward and yanked back the pull-start cord. The engine fired up immediately and spat out a thick cloud of black smoke.

When they reached the south side of the lake, Francis steered the boat to starboard, followed the shoreline for another hundred yards, then aimed it straight at the sandy bank and tilted back the outboard just as the bow scraped the bottom.