The Arx (31 page)

“Trudy Graham was her name. The waiting room was empty and I got talking to her. I managed to steer the conversation to Olmerol. Trudy had a minor heart condition – Olmerol was contraindicated for her, so her doctor wouldn’t prescribe it. What she told me next gave me goosebumps. Turns out her sister happened to be pregnant at the same time, and guess what?”

“The sister was taking Olmerol,” Frank said.

“Bingo. Trudy was really suffering with morning sickness so she talked her sister into letting her have some of hers. It’s like fate had stepped in and handed it to me. Miriam had told me a little about how she’d been ‘acquired’. I figured that the Savants tracked the use of the drug by prescription. But Trudy never had a prescription, and from what she told me it didn’t sound like her sister’s kid had the deformity, so the Savants wouldn’t be interested.

“I stalked her for a couple of weeks. I was scared shitless. I’d never done anything like that before. I’d never even had a parking ticket, but I had to know. Every second I spent in Vancouver was an invitation for someone to recognize me. I found out about the picnic and followed her. While she was preoccupied settling an argument between her other two kids I stepped in and grabbed Jimmy. The cops assumed he’d fallen into the river.”

He turned to Frank. “He lived here for ten years. He never knew where he came from or why he was with me. I conducted physical and psychological tests, observed his behaviour, interviewed him hundreds of times. In many ways he was like the son I never had.”

“What happened to him?”

Carson turned and gazed back out to sea. “What do you think?”

Frank stared at him, horrified.

“You think I’m a monster?” Carson said, with a thin, rasping laugh. “Jimmy was extremely intelligent, like all the others. I was always careful, but by the time he reached thirteen he’d guessed that I was interested in more than just looking after him. He’d also guessed that he was different from everybody else. If I’d waited any longer he would have killed me and run away, and probably located others of his kind.

“He’s buried in the back yard behind the cabin. I told anyone who asked that he went off to live with his mother, who they all assumed was my ex-wife. To anyone who knew him before I took him he was already dead, so nobody asked any questions.”

Carson tried to rise to his feet but was shaky and almost collapsed. Frank stood and helped the old man steady himself. Frank’s mind was numb as they headed back to the shack.

After three days, armed with Carson’s information, Frank decided he had to get back and face whatever was to come. Carson assured him that he’d be alright, and anyway there was nothing he could do for the old man. On that final day Carson removed a loose board from the floor of the shack and lifted out a rugged metal box with a heavy-duty padlock. Frank had to help him haul it to a desk in the corner.

Carson used a key on a chain around his neck to open the lock. Inside were several books of notes and a notebook computer. “Everything’s in here,” he said. I made extensive notes on Jimmy – my observations, interview transcripts, and a few amateur medical tests. I also documented my time at Kaffir and my theories about the Savants.”

“You can give it all to the authorities,” Carson said. “It’ll be a big help convincing them you’re not crazy. Believe me, that’s going to be a problem. You can tell them everything. I don’t care. They might learn something from exhuming Jimmy’s body. I preserved his brain in a jar of formaldehyde. It’s buried with him. It would be a good idea for somebody to dig it up and study it.”

Frank stared at the old man, still stunned by his revelations.

Carson’s face was drawn and sad as he spoke. “There are circumstances where one is forced to perform acts that are considered monstrous, for the greater public good. Someday humanity will thank me for the service I’ve done them.”

That night they ate yet another plain but palatable stew. Frank wasn’t that hungry, but managed to force some down. They moved to a pair of comfortable chairs by Carson’s wood stove. Carson pulled out a bottle of twelve-year-old single malt scotch and insisted that Frank join him in an after dinner drink, something he hadn’t done before.

“Fact is,” he said, “I’ve been waiting for somebody like you to show up for a long time.”

Frank wasn’t sure what Carson meant by that, but he kept his mouth shut.

Carson held up his glass in a shaky hand and said:

“To the human race – may they not be extinct after all.”

They clinked glasses and drank down the golden nectar.

“I know I’ve said this already,” Carson said, “but I want to make sure you get it. Never forget who you’re dealing with. These guys are not human, at least not in the way you’re used to.”

“You know their connection with Kaffir, Olmerol, and the kidnapped children,” Carson continued. “You know about Ricky Augustus and now about his mother. You know the leaders of the group and something about where they live.

“Not only that, you’re a cop, an authority figure, someone people will believe. Sure you’ve got some issues, but you’re still going to command a lot of respect. You are the biggest threat the Savants have ever faced. You can bet they’d do anything to get you out of the picture. And if they know about you, they’ll know about everyone associated with you.”

Rebecca,
Frank thought with a shudder.

Carson took another sip of whiskey. “You’ve been incredibly lucky so far. Don’t count on that luck continuing.”

“I’ll remember,” Frank said.

“Stay up as long as you like,” Carson said. As he had on previous nights, Carson headed for the back door.

Finally Frank asked what he was doing out there.

“Oh,” he said. “It’s a ritual I perform every night. You’ll probably think I’ve got a screw loose. Maybe you’d be right. Before I go to bed I go out and say goodnight to Jimmy.” He nodded toward the back of the shack.

“Crazy isn’t it,” he said, a hacking sound from deep in his chest substituting for a laugh. “I know with absolute certainty that beyond getting food and shelter from me, Jimmy couldn’t have cared less whether I lived or died.”

Carson’s mouth quivered and his eyes closed. “I loved him, just the same,” he said as he turned and shuffled toward the back door.

The shack was silent. Frank sat by the stove, trying to digest all that Carson had told him. The story was so unbelievable, he prayed that the envelope on the desk was enough to convince the authorities, and that he’d be able to get it to the right people before the Savants got to him.

He wasn’t sleepy. He got up and wandered around the room, inspecting the books on the shelves and knick-knacks on the window sills. He strolled into the back hallway. He’d only passed through it a couple of times, but he sensed that something was different; something was missing.

He stood with his head cocked sideways, closed his eyes and tried to picture it the way it was earlier.

I’m starting to think like a Savant,
he thought, smiling to himself.

That was when it hit him – he realized what was missing and froze. The other times, Carson’s rifle had been leaning in one corner.

“Shit," he said out loud. He rushed down the hall to the back door. He’d just put his hand on the latch when he heard the gunshot.

The next morning, Frank found a shovel in the back shed and buried Carson next to the mound that covered Jimmy. He risked becoming a suspect in yet another murder, but didn’t dare get the cops involved right now. If he ever convinced them his story was true, he would lead them back to this place. Until then, it would be a while before anyone missed Carson and came out to investigate.

“May God forgive you for what you’ve done,” he said over the grave.

He spent a few hours sifting through Carson’s possessions. There was a wealth of information on the Savants. Unfortunately, most of it was in paper form. Frank didn’t have time to examine it all in detail, but one file made his heart race: an ‘undoctored’ copy of the study Carson had told him about, the one the student had died for.

Frank felt like a weight had dropped from his shoulders. The study cited specific cases of deformity that could be linked to Olmerol and included data showing the correlation between prescriptions of the drug and what had been thought to be random deformities. That document alone should be enough to prove his story.

He opened a folder titled: ‘Carla De Leon’. It contained scanned copies of journal articles and the scant number of newspaper items in which De Leon had been mentioned. There were records of the corporate hierarchy at Kaffir, De Leon’s office number and location, and some of the people that worked closely with her.

He thought back to Rebecca’s first-name reference to De Leon. Something about it made him nervous.

The folder contained a fuzzy, badly angled picture of a middle-aged woman. Below it was the caption: ‘Carla De Leon – April, 2002’.

Frank smiled when he considered how tough it must have been for Carson to get her picture, especially back in the Neolithic days when every cell phone didn’t contain a camera. Carson was right – she was dressed plainly, and looked like the stereotypical research scientist.

But even in the grainy shadows of the blown-up photograph he discerned the blazing light of her intellect, and just the tiniest hint of the primal stare he’d seen in Ralphie’s eyes what seemed like years ago now. Something about her face looked familiar. He thought for a minute, but eventually gave up and tossed the picture in with everything else.

He found a couple of flash drives in Carson’s desk. He transferred some of the crucial files onto both drives and stuffed everything – the notebook, the drives, files, papers, photographs, and anything else he thought might be useful – into a small suitcase.

In the bottom drawer of Carson’s filing cabinet he found a small handgun and a box of ammunition. He stuffed the gun into a thin cloth bag and slung it around his neck so that it was covered by his jacket.

Still stunned, he chartered a boat to Galiano, then took the ferry back to Vancouver. He didn’t feel like lunch on the way back.

Showdown with Rebecca

“Dr. De Leon will be with you shortly,” Marcie, the young receptionist at Carla’s corporate office, smiled. “The meeting is taking longer than expected. Please take a seat.”

Rebecca and Carla had agreed to meet there before going on another ‘coffee’ date. Carla had an important meeting she couldn’t get out of, but said she was looking forward to relaxing and talking with Rebecca.

Since the moment Rebecca had owned up to her plan to spy on Carla and Kaffir, the dynamic between the two women seemed to have changed subtly. Rebecca felt uneasy about meeting her friend, even though Carla had insisted that the incident was in the past and wouldn’t affect their relationship. Strangely, Carla seemed more concerned about Rebecca’s refusal to reveal Frank’s name than with her actual lies and betrayal.

Resignedly, Rebecca sat down on a couch in the waiting room. She absently thumbed through a few dull pharmaceutical industry journals, but found nothing of interest.

She got up and strolled around the office, inspecting the pictures on the wall. There was a stunning photograph of Kaffir headquarters, the building in which she stood, and another of researchers at their stations in the lab.

On a far wall was a photograph of several white-coated workers, all young women, holding some kind of award. Rebecca looked closely at the picture. Almost hidden behind the others she could barely make out the face of Carla De Leon. Carla was glancing to her right, as if she’d been caught off-guard.

Something in her expression was familiar. It took Rebecca a few seconds to realize what it was.

Ralphie,
she thought,
and goosebumps rose on her skin.

She turned back to find Marcie staring at her. To Rebecca’s relief the receptionist was called away on an errand.

Frank’s warning came back into her head:
If you go sticking your nose into the head office at Kaffir…

Rebecca thought back on Carla’s description of life with her husband. Suddenly somehow it didn’t ring true. She considered walking out, thinking what excuse she could use later to explain her sudden departure.

You’re letting Frank’s paranoia infect you,
she scolded herself.
Carla’s your friend. She was there when you needed her. DNA doesn’t lie.

Finally Marcie reappeared.

“The meeting’s taking longer than expected,” she said. “Dr. De Leon says you should go on without her. She’ll meet you at the restaurant in about twenty minutes.”

Rebecca opened her mouth, about to suggest that they cancel.

“Is something wrong?” Marcie said.

“No,” Rebecca said, smiling. “Everything’s fine. Tell her I’ll be waiting.”

The first thing Frank did when he stepped off the bus back in Vancouver was buy a burner cell phone. The second was to rent a car from a cut-rate lot; he needed to be mobile. His top priority in the service of humanity should have been to get Carson’s information to the police, but that goal was no longer foremost on his agenda. He’d done a lot of thinking on the trip back, first from Parker Island, then from Galiano. He’d reflected on Carson’s words: