Taming the Telomeres, a Thriller

by R. N. Shapiro

  “Days like this make me hate this job,” Rogers says.

  “Ditto that,” Holmes adds.

  “Well, I owe you an apology.”

  “What for?” Holmes asks as they turn down the last hall toward the main entrance.

  “For making fun of you the day we were standing out in that pasture beside the car. You told me something was bothering you about the crime scene. I shouldn’t have second-guessed you.”

  “I forgot all about that. Now I’ve got even more questions. But guess what? We’re never going to know. We’re just pawns in the Feds’ game. And it irritates the hell out of me.”

  Chapter 114

  Come Clean

  The black town car brought Amanda back to Crossroads Farm early Saturday morning. It turned out the safe house was tucked away in a rural area of Great Falls, Virginia, not terribly far from her farmhouse. Britt was also told to remove her belongings from the farm, including the infamous Geo. She knew that the conversation would be difficult, but that she would have to come clean with Amanda.

  Britt finishes loading four boxes of her stuff into the small Geo, along with a duffel bag. She looks up and notices the sun and bright blue sky, only a couple of clouds dotting the horizon. The sweet smell of green pasture grass wafts through the air. As she approaches the porch steps to find Amanda, she turns and sees her on Voodoo, walking slowly near the stable. Manuel watches also, from the far side. Britt walks toward Voodoo and Amanda and meets them halfway between the house and the stable.

  "The doctors said riding’s out of the question with your condition. You know that though."

  "Manuel helped me on. I've just been dying to do it. I'm not going to try to gallop or anything.”

  "Please let me help you off. I don't want any catastrophes on my watch. We've survived a lot together."

  Britt steadies Amanda as she climbs out of the saddle slowly and carefully steps to the ground. Once Amanda is down, she looks directly at Britt, and, oh yeah, if looks could kill, it would have been one hell of a slaughter.

  "I don't know if I can ever forgive you. I mean, I thought we were really friends. But everything was fake. Everything you ever said was a lie. How could you?"

  They both notice that Manuel has walked toward them. Britt says hello to him, and he takes Voodoo’s reins and silently walks him back toward the stable.

  “How could I? I saved your life. I saved you from yourself for all those weeks I was here, protecting you, teaching you, tutoring you. You don’t even see that. I had a job to do.”

  "I remember everything you told me. You even said you had done theater. That day we were on the mud run. You asked me if I'd ever ‘played a part.’ You were just playing me. Why would you do something that dirty? That’s like, so vile."

  "Maybe I said a few things I shouldn’t have. But we do have a bond. I was your friend. Still am, whether you believe me or not."

  “My friend? Really? I'm not so sure."

  "Listen, you're not going to realize it today. But one day you'll know. Look, I've been re-assigned, outside the U.S. This is…it’s my last day with you.”

  "Wait, do you even have a daughter named Samantha?"

  Britt looks at her and then looks down and doesn't say anything.

  "I don't believe it. You made that up? That’s so cruel, really sick! Were you ever a meth addict? No! You weren’t. I get it. You lied about that and you were…you were…planted in my room at the psych ward. How? How could you and the FBI, or the CIA, or whoever, do all that? I bet you made up…wait a second, you even made up the Einstein story about you and your mom and your IQ." Amanda keeps pacing, her face now red with anger. “Who was that drug dealer? He was a plant too. I couldn’t believe how gross that apartment was. It was all part of the big scam.”

  Amanda scowls at Britt, who refuses to deny anything and decides to just let Amanda get it out.

  "Then, since you got here, okay, wait, wait. You don't even own that Geo. What is that? CIA property? It was, what, supposed to look pathetic, pitiful, like you couldn’t afford a thing! I fell for it so hard, and so did David. Then, oh God, you even faked passing out from withdrawal. What an actor. You were good, so-o-o good. It’s like you don’t really exist. I bet you’re not even Brittney. What’s your real name? I HATE YOU! Just leave, leave!” Amanda shouts, then starts sobbing, her head down, chin against her chest.

  "Amanda, Amanda,” Britt says stepping toward her and momentarily placing both her outstretched hands on Amanda’s shoulders.

  “No! Don’t you dare touch me!” She pushes Britt’s hands away, stepping backward.

  “You've got to understand something. That was the only way I could protect you. To be with you as close to 24 hours a day as possible. We planned it even before you tried to get killed by the train. Thank God you survived that. We had agents posted here 24/7, we had electronic surveillance, because we thought they might kidnap you. Maybe kill you. We were tasked with saving you and we succeeded, here at the farm, and even in New York, when you and David pulled your stupid getaway. Their agent was one step away from killing David when our sniper took him out.”

  “That makes some sense. But why did you have to straight-up lie to us, over and over?”

  “Because there was no way to let you in on our ops. Look, my boss told me in our debriefing yesterday that they made a deal that’s going to protect you.”

  “Protect me? I already died! I don’t need any of you.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “They don’t scare me. I’ve been close to death too many times. Wait, what about my dad’s research? Do I have some kind of super blood now, like David thinks?”

  “I really don’t know. It’s possible you were treated, but nobody knows what your dad actually did.”

  “Huh, David was right. I can’t believe it…”

  She turns and walks toward the farmhouse.

  “My friend—one of the agents in Westchester, got killed protecting you! We trained together. I know pain too—you’re not the only one, Amanda!” Britt shouts at her back.

  Amanda stops and turns.

  “Jeremy?”

  “No, another agent who was outside covering for us. Covering for you.”

  Amanda stands stone still, looking in Britt’s direction.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, so low Britt can’t even hear it. Then, she slowly turns again and walks up the porch steps and into the house.

  Britt and the Geo are nowhere to be seen the next time Amanda peers out the window. Amanda decides to take a long, hot shower. But the sadness refuses to wash away, no matter how long the water pulses against her.

  Chapter 115

  Seething

  Andy stands inside his small walk-in closet, pushing several suits to the left until he finds the black suit that he only wears to black-tie events or funerals. He realizes he's seething inside, more angry than sad. It's the anger from never getting to confront Alex, being betrayed, wanting to ask how he could have done it. He could've gotten Ron killed. No, he did get Ron killed, whether he intended to or not. He was just as guilty as the lookout or the driver hovering outside a bank robbery who didn't know an accomplice fired a gun inside that killed somebody.

  Random thoughts flash through his mind. Ron, Alex, himself, stumbling out of the Catacombs at closing time during college, laughing and joking outside before dividing up and walking home. The time they went helicopter skiing together in the Canadian Rockies, when the guide taught them how to dig each other out in case of a sudden avalanche by finding the homing device each of them had to wear. They actually had to practice digging and finding one of the devices in a big snow-covered field near the helicopter pad. Hell, Alex had been his partner in case of an avi, or if one of them dropped into a snow hole next to a tree and got trapped.

  Just as bad was being forced to keep the whole damn thing a secret forever. Not being able to tell a single soul. Torturous.

  "What’re you doing in here?" Becca asks, startling him
as she steps into the open doorway of the closet.

  "Nothing, just thinking," he says, lifting the black suit along with its hanger off the closet rod.

  "Barb just texted me and wants to know if we want to meet near the church and go together."

  "No, I don't want to go with anyone else. We’ll just meet them there. Amanda texted me yesterday and said David is giving her a ride."

  But what Andy never told Amanda was that her “Uncle” Alex had sold out, and caused untold hardship. She had enjoyed a great relationship with Alex, Denise, and with all his kids too. No, he would never tell her.

  Becca is dressed and ready, which is pretty unusual, Andy thinks. She walks away, and he puts on the black pants, white button-down shirt, and looks in the bathroom mirror to tie a conservative, powder-blue tie. On the left side of the sink, he has set the 3 x 5 photo of Ron, himself, and Alex from their ski trip, all three of them standing in front of a helicopter lifting off. He slips it into the outside left pocket of his suit coat, takes his dark sunglasses and slides them in the upper outside breast pocket, checks his look carefully, and walks out of the bathroom. Then, he stops. He wheels around, pulls the photo out of his pocket, balls it up violently in his right hand and tosses it in the bathroom trashcan.

  "Okay," he tells Becca as he stalks out of the bathroom, "let's get this day over with.”

  Chapter 116

  Graduates

  From the lectern in the packed auditorium, Headmaster Johnson, having reached the middle of the alphabet, breaks the fairly routine cadence of calling the graduates’ names.

  “And, with special pleasure, Amanda Michaels.”

  As he speaks, the clapping and noise level rises. Amanda climbs the set of stairs at the right of the stage and strides across to shake Headmaster Johnson’s hand. He blocks her path partly and then hugs her in a rare show of emotion. After breaking the embrace, Amanda proudly waves the rolled diploma high as she exits the stage, and Johnson calls the next proud graduate.

  “Is this the end of us or what? With you going off to MIT and all,” Amanda practically yells at David amongst the throngs of graduates celebrating with their families.

  “No way. We’ll stay in touch, for sure. Let’s get a picture.” David says.

  “Uncle Andy, will you take a picture of David and me please?”

  Andy obliges. Then, Amanda gets a bunch of pictures with Andy, the Simons, some adults she doesn’t even know, and with Headmaster Johnson and Coach Ricci.

  “Hey, Amanda, a bunch of us are doing a group pic,” Charlyne says, motioning toward Iris and a bunch of the soccer players who are collecting along a half-wall nearby with the words “Middleburg Academy” visible behind them.

  As she walks toward them, Jonathan, her ex-boyfriend, approaches her.

  “Good luck at UVA,” he says.

  “Thanks. What are your plans?”

  “Got a scholarship to play lacrosse at Johns Hopkins.”

  “Great! I wish you the best, really. I do know we had good times together, everyone said so. I just can’t remember them. I’ll see you again soon, I’m sure.”

  A smile appears on his face at her recognition of their relationship and vague promise for a future encounter. “Okay, yeah, that’d be great. If not, there’s always a reunion.”

  Several of the soccer players shout at her. “Come on!” Charlyne grabs her hand and pulls her toward the wall.

  So she gives Jon a quick grin and turns away with Charlyne, actually feeling bad for the first time about him and their ending. Then she finds herself posing for photos and dealing with a whole different set of emotions.

  Chapter 117

  The Freshman

  One Year after the Flight 310 Crash

  * * *

  Angie appears in the doorway to Andy's office.

  "Natalee Spalding’s on line one. I figured you’d want to take it.”

  "Yeah. Put her through."

  "Andy, can we come to your office for a quick interview? We're putting together a special segment for the one year anniversary of the crash tomorrow. We’re also interviewing the mayor of Quarryville. We want to cover the progress of the memorial there and the Broken Halo rehab facility in Middleburg."

  "Sure, what time?"

  They cover some other details, then just before they end the call, Natalee brings up Amanda.

  "I wanted to mention that Amanda won't return my calls, so we talked to some of her classmates. Did you know she’s dropped some classes? Her friends seem concerned. I thought you’d want to know and wondered if you could convince her to talk to us."

  Music blares through unseen speakers to a large area surrounding the frat house just off the UVA grounds in Charlottesville. Students overflow out of the house onto the front porch and lawn, all the way down to the sidewalk. Just outside the front door, Amanda takes another gulp from a large plastic cup filled with vodka and something else unidentified.

  A couple of the revelers within earshot of Amanda are talking a bit too loud.

  "I saw clips of her on CNT. They’re doing a special tomorrow on the crash. I guess this is her twisted celebration," one says to the other.

  "She’s wasted!" the second guy says as Amanda wobbles a few steps toward them.

  “I heard that, screw you, you have no-o-o-o rrright to judge meeee.” Amanda slurs at them.

  Some guy she just met at the party, but is acting like he owns her, follows right behind her.

  "I think I’d…I better…I…I'd better be going hooommme," she garbles at him. Her new escort realizes he’s going to need some help.

  "Robby, can you find one of the DDs to drive us back to her dorm?"

  The frat kid has the decency to escort Amanda into the dorm and to her second floor room. When they reach the door, Amanda turns and sloppily kisses the surprised kid. He leans into her and they engage in a drunken grope. While they are still in their impromptu embrace, Amanda raps hard on the door of her room.

  "Who's there?" Margo asks from inside.

  "It's me, who’d you think?"

  The door opens, and Amanda nearly falls into the room. But she catches herself by wrapping a hand around the doorknob.

  "You woke me up." Margo says returning to the mostly dark portion of the room and climbing back into her bed.

  "I guess I’ll be going now." the frat kid says.

  "Thanks – thanks for the ride." Amanda says.

  “It’s Jerry. My name that is.”

  “Yeah. Right. Thanks. See ya.” The door softly closes. The room is very dark again. Amanda feels around, trying to get her bearings, but falls loudly. The room spins. She crawls over to her bed stand and somehow finds a lamp and turns it on. The lamp illuminates half a dozen empty wine bottles along the ledge above her bed, interspersed with several miscellaneous empty bottles. Margo peeks at the clock: 1:30 a.m.

  Too few hours later, Margo awakes for her first class before 8:00 a.m. The room reeks. She sees what appears to be puke all over the side of Amanda’s bedspread and the floor next to it. Amanda is sprawled facedown, still under the putrid sheets. Margo finds a can of air freshener and sprays it in a wide swath, and then gets ready for classes in the adjoining bathroom. After showering, she decides to send a text message to Charlyne, who she knows is one of Amanda's high school friends at UVA.

  Amanda barfed all over and left it. Not getting up for class. Maybe check on her.

  Charlyne receives the text during breakfast at the dining hall. She then texts Amanda herself.

  Heard u had a big night. U OK?"

  Amanda hears the familiar chime for the second time. This time she decides to look at it even though her head is spinning and throbbing. She sees the text is from Charlyne. She shoves the cell phone back up on the ledge beside her bed without responding.

  Sometime later, someone is banging on the door. Amanda refuses to get up at first, but the racket continues.

  Finally, she drags herself to the door, opens it, and then without looking, flo
ps back on the bed, barely avoiding the putrid vomit covering the side away from the wall.

  The stench nearly overwhelms Charlyne.

  "Oh my God! How are you even in this room?" Charlyne asks. Nothing from her friend at all. "You have to get in the shower, you're never going to make your classes."

  "Who cares? Leave me alone."

  "You need to get cleaned up, eat something."

  "I said leave me alone. I'm fine. Go."

  "Okay, I'll come back and check on you. You're sure you're okay?"

  With no answer, Charlyne finally steps out of the dorm room and closes the door. Within 10 steps she places a phone call to Andy Michaels, whose number she still has programmed into her cell phone.

  "Mr. Michaels, there's something wrong with Amanda. Her roommate told me she’s been out of it almost every night. I don't know what she did last night, but there's barf all over her bed, her floor, and she won't get up. She’s been drinking a lot, I mean a whole lot.”

  "When did you see her?"

  "I just left her dorm room. I don't know what to do. She needs some family here or something. I've gotta get to class. She’s in Hancock, it’s the McCormick Road area dorms.”

  Andy looks down at his watch, and looks around his desk. He only has one appointment, and it can be changed.

  "I'm leaving now. I should get there in about three hours. If you can just check on her again in the meantime, I’d appreciate it."

  "I will. Call me when you get here and I'll come help if I’m not in class."

  Andy stops by Angie's office.

  "Amanda is spiraling out of control. Charlyne just called. Something about her barfing all over her room, her bed, she won't get up for classes. You need to change my appointment with the Millers at 3:00 p.m."