THE 4400® WELCOME TO PROMISE CITY (21 page)

Maybe even more so.

“Okay, they’re not going anywhere.”

Carl finished binding Tom and Diana to adjoining couches. Thick leather straps held their arms and legs down. Tom strained against the restraints, but didn’t feel any give. He and Diana were at their captors’ mercy.

Grayson lowered his gun. He stood a few feet away, watching the proceedings carefully. The older woman sat on a stool nearby, knitting a sweater.

“Sorry we can’t make you more comfortable,” the mortician said acidly. Life on the run had clearly taken a toll on him. Stubble dotted his gaunt cheeks and jaw. Purple pouches hung under bloodshot eyes. His voice seethed
with resentment. “But this was the best reception we could arrange under such short notice.”

Grayson had claimed earlier that he and his accomplices had been expecting them. Tom wondered who had tipped them off. Had Kyle spilled the beans to Collier after all? Tom prayed that his son wasn’t to blame for their dire circumstances.
Who else could it be?
he agonized.
We only found out about this place a few hours ago!

Diana must have been pondering the same question. “Mind telling us how you knew we were coming?”

“That would be my doing,” a new voice explained.

Abigail Hunnicutt strolled in from the back, looking just as at home in the refurbished plasma center as she was in the Theory Room. The blond analyst waved at Grayson and the others. “Sorry to be running late. We were short-handed at NTAC. Everybody seemed to be playing hooky this afternoon …”

Tom’s jaw dropped. He exchanged a confused look with Diana. “Abby?”

“Hi, Tom, Diana,” she greeted them. A wet twill raincoat dripped water onto the floor. She seemed not at all dismayed to see her colleagues trussed up like unruly patients in a psych ward. “Guess you wonder what I’m doing here.”

“A little,” Tom admitted. Surprise gave way to anger as he realized that Abby had betrayed them. His face flushed brightly. “I’m not used to being sold out by my own people!”

Diana gave her a withering look. “How could you?”

“What can I say?” She shrugged. “The Great Leap
Forward changed everything, including me. It’s obvious now that the Movement is the future.” There wasn’t a hint of guilt in her voice. “I’m not going to apologize for wanting to be on the right side of history.”

Diana did not let her off the hook. “No matter how many people perish to build Collier’s brave new world?”

“People die every day for no reason at all,” Grayson said. “Trust me, nobody knows that better than a mortician. I wasted most of my adult life processing their worthless remains, making no meaningful contribution to the world, until the Great Leap Forward opened my eyes and expanded my perceptions.” He raised his eyes heavenward and steepled his hands before his chest. “I’ll never forget that day. My brain came alive with new ideas and understanding. I found my purpose for being.”

Abby nodded. “Bernie is being too modest. Promicin amplified his IQ to a phenomenal degree, giving him an innate understanding of chemistry and biology. He knows more about DNA and genetic modification than most Nobel Prize winners. He’s been a godsend to our project.”

“That was no accident,” Grayson declared. “All of this was meant to be.” He looked at Tom. “When your nephew’s body came into my possession, right after I changed, I realized that it was no mere coincidence. I knew at once that I was destined to spread Daniel’s gift to all the world.” He gestured at Carl, who was keeping a close eye on the prisoners. “With the help of courageous volunteers like Carl here.”

The young man brushed away Grayson’s accolade. His gun was tucked in his trousers. “It’s a privilege and an
honor. I only hope I can be the one to bring the rest of mankind into the fold.”

“You will be,” Abby promised him. Her voice rang with certainty. “We’re going to succeed this time. I can feel it.”

Tom realized there was no reasoning with these people. They were all true believers, like that fanatic at the mortuary. Even Abby seemed to have embraced Collier’s agenda with all her heart. All he could hope from them now were answers.

“But I saw Danny’s body at his funeral,” Tom said. “I helped load his casket into the hearse.”

Grayson indicated the older woman in the corner. “Thank Rosita there. Perhaps you remember her from Danny’s service? She projected an illusion of your nephew’s body during the ceremony, just as she masked our presence from your senses several minutes ago.”

Rosita looked up from her knitting. She beamed proudly.

“But the duplicate bodies?” Diana asked. “How did you manage that?”

Abby raised her hand. “That would be me again. I’m afraid I’ve been holding out on you guys when it comes to the full extent of my ability. I can do more than just read DNA, I can also manipulate it.” She flexed her fingers. “With Bernie’s help, I’ve been attempting to turn willing volunteers into perfect genetic doubles of Danny Farrell.”

“I’ve seen your work,” Diana said coldly. “In our morgue.”

Abby flinched. “I admit that none of our test subjects have survived the procedure so far,” she said defensively. Diana had obviously hit a nerve. “But I’m getting closer
every time.” She turned to reassure Carl. “We’re almost there. I know it!”

“I believe you,” the youth said. “I have faith in the future.” He scowled at Tom and Diana. “So what are we going to do with these Feds anyway?” He drew his gun and leveled it at the supine agents. “I say we waste them now before they can cause any more trouble.”

His bloodthirsty tone reminded Tom of the homicidal morgue assistant. What was it about Collier’s message that inspired such blind devotion in young men like Carl and Kyle? A desire to make their mark on the world, no matter the consequences? Carl sounded positively eager to kill in Collier’s name.

“Not a good idea,” Abby objected. “According to the prophecies, which I believe to be coded instructions from the future, Baldwin has a special destiny to fulfill. Eliminating him would risk everything we’ve worked for.”

“Right,” Carl conceded. “I hadn’t thought of that.” He turned his gun toward Diana instead. “What about her, though?”

Abby vetoed that execution as well. “Skouris is special in her own right. She has a unique immunity to promicin that merits closer study.”

“I concur,” Grayson said. He eyed Diana with scientific curiosity. “A careful analysis of her blood chemistry could yield valuable insights into the effects of promicin on the human nerve system.”

Clearly outnumbered, Carl lowered his gun. Disappointment showed on his face. “So what are we going to do with them?”

“Kill two birds with one stone,” Abby said smugly. She had it all worked out. “The prophecies say Baldwin is destined to become one of us, right? And if we can transform you into another Danny Farrell, we’re going to need a guinea pig to make sure you can actually infect people with promicin …”

Tom realized Abby intended to test Carl’s ability on him. “That’s not going to work,” he warned them. “I dosed myself with U-Pills right before I came in.”

Abby shrugged. “Well then, we’re just going to have to wait for them to wear off.”

E
ASTERN
S
TATE
P
ENITENTIARY
loomed before them like something out of the Dark Ages. Nestled in an upscale Philadelphia neighborhood of bookstores, museums, and pricy restaurants, the medieval-looking fortress stood out like an immense stone anachronism, almost as though it had been dropped into place by the same time travelers that had relocated the 4400 in history. Watchtowers and crenellated battlements crowned its gloomy gray façade. Darkened arrow-slit windows looked out over the street below. Moss climbed its weathered thirty-foot walls. The mammoth prison occupied an entire city block. Floodlights, positioned along the base of the gatehouse, illuminated its granite exterior. The building’s intimidating appearance was quite deliberate, intended to instill the fear of God, and a profound sense of penitence, in all who were brought unwillingly through its gates.
“Let the doors be of iron,”
one of the prison’s nineteenth-century founders had instructed,
“and let the grating, occasioned by opening and shutting them, be increased by an echo that shall deeply pierce the soul.”

Or so Meghan had read. From the looks of the place, Dr. Benjamin Rush had gotten just what he asked for.

Meghan, Marco, Tess, and Jed Blue contemplated the prison from across the street. They loitered casually upon the sidewalk, avoiding the glare of the streetlamps. It was nearly eleven, East Coast time, but there was still plenty of nighttime traffic cruising down Fairmount Avenue. Their own limo, provided by one of Collier’s sleeper agents in Philly, was parked a few blocks away on Twenty-fourth Street. Jed Red was currently cooling his heels behind the wheel of the waiting getaway car. The two Garritys had drawn straws to determine which of them got stuck in the car.

“Creepy place,” Marco said, stating the obvious. Like the rest of them, he wore dark civilian clothing without any NTAC labels or insignia. They had left their badges and ID on the plane. This mission was strictly off the books. “Who knew Dracula had real estate in the heart of Philly?”

“Actually, this used to be empty farmland, miles away from the city,” Tess informed them. She had appointed herself the resident expert on the prison’s history. “A cherry orchard to be exact. When they first built the penitentiary, almost two hundred years ago, there was nothing else around. But the city gradually spread out and enveloped it. That’s one of the reasons they shut it down in the seventies. People didn’t like having a prison full of convicted felons living right next door—even though the prison had been here first.”

Meghan wondered what the neighbors would think of
what was going on inside Eastern State these days. If they knew about it, that is.

She turned to Tess. “You ready for this?”

“Not really,” the girl admitted. “But what choice do I have?” She seemed to need a moment to talk herself into going forward. “Back in the fifties, before I was abducted, my dad dug a bomb shelter in our backyard, just in case the Reds dropped A-bombs on us. We used to have duck-and-cover drills in school. I had bad dreams about one big war destroying the entire world … I can’t let those nightmares come true.”

Meghan sympathized. Even though Tess’s ability still wigged her out, she was relieved to discover that the former mental patient’s motivations were understandable enough. Not to mention sane. “We’re not going to let that happen.”

“I hope not.”

Tess crossed the street, leaving the others behind. An electronic bug in her collar allowed Meghan to listen in via a concealed earpiece. She heard Tess gulp and take a deep breath before walking up to the imposing front gate of the prison. A sign on the door declared that the historic site was closed for renovations. Haspelcorp was mentioned nowhere on the sign.

“Here goes,” Tess whispered into the mike. She knocked on the iron door, then pressed a button installed in the archway. A buzzer sounded somewhere beyond the gate.

A security camera, mounted above the door, swiveled toward her. A glaring white light illuminated the front
steps, exposing her to view. A scratchy voice emerged from an intercom by the gate.

“Yes?” a gruff voice asked irritably. Meghan guessed they didn’t get many callers, especially at this hour. “What is it?”

Tess looked straight into the camera lens. “I’m here for the tour.”

“There are no tours anymore.” Static failed to mask the voice’s impatience, nor its pronounced Philadelphia accent. “Can’t you read, sister? This place is closed.”

Tess disagreed. “I want a tour. Let me in.”

The silence that followed made Meghan briefly wonder if Tess’s notorious ability had been overhyped somewhat. Then the ponderous steel door creaked open. No dreadful grating sounds pierced Meghan’s soul; apparently Haspelcorp kept the hinges oiled. Peering across the street, she caught a glimpse of a uniformed guard standing beyond the doorway. He stepped out of Tess’s way.

“That’s better,” she said. Turning around, she beckoned furtively to Meghan and the others, who dashed across the street to join her. They pulled on ski masks before coming within range of the cameras; Meghan had convinced Marco to leave the Klingon mask back in Seattle.

Although under Tess’s spell, the guard still looked alarmed as the masked intruders hustled up the steps toward the open gate. Built like a linebacker, the guard was a beefy young man with a ruddy complexion and greasy black hair. A flattened nose and cauliflower ear hinted that
he had spent time in the ring. A name badge identified him as
KOZINSKI
. He reached for the pistol holstered at his hip.

“No guns,” Tess commanded. “My friends are joining us.”

His hand came away from the pistol. The consternation on his face made it clear that he was fully aware of what was happening. “You witch! What are you doing to me?”

“Don’t be rude,” she instructed him. “And keep your voice down. I told you, my friends and I want a tour.”

His mouth flapped silently, like a fish out of water, as his tongue fought a losing battle against Tess’s influence. “That’s not allowed,” he finally managed to get out. Meghan could tell he wanted to say something a lot louder and more pungent. “This is a secure facility.”

“Sssh!” Tess held a finger before her lips. “Just do as I say.”

The guard nodded.

Like he had any choice,
Meghan thought.

Kozinski stood by helplessly, his livid face betraying his true feelings, as the team hurried into the gatehouse. Garrity quietly closed the door behind them.

Meghan took stock of their surroundings. The photos she had perused on the flight had depicted a dilapidated ruin deliberately preserved in a state of arrested decay, full of crumbling plaster, fallen rubble, and rusted metal. There were even supposed to be trees growing through some of the roofs.

That was
not
what she saw around them. Haspelcorp had obviously given the interior a serious facelift. Beige industrial paint covered the granite walls. Fluorescent
lights dispelled the murky shadows of the past. The guard’s security station was equipped with a battery of monitors allowing him to keep an eye on the street outside. Fire extinguishers and smoke alarms brought the facility up to code. A
NO SMOKING
sign was pinned to a wall.