She gave me a puzzled look. “They didn’t?”
“No,” I said solemnly. “They came from carrying you upstairs every night. You’re not exactly a light load these days.”
She punched me. “In case you’ve forgotten, you’re responsible for this extra poundage.”
“I told you, didn’t I?”
“Told me?”
“I told you if you stopped saying no to me, I’d have you pregnant in no time.”
“You know, we need to start thinking about names for this little guy,” Lynne said, patting her belly affectionately. “After all, if you’re right and I am about to pop—”
“A boy’s name,” I said confidently.
“You’re absolutely certain?” she asked, still doubtful.
“You’re the one who thinks I’m some kind of mystic,” I reminded her.
“Prophet,” she corrected.
I shrugged. “What’s the difference?”
Lynne shook her head. “For a brainiac, you can be dumb as dirt sometimes,” she chided me. “If, by some slim, remote chance this baby is a girl, I was thinking we should name her after your mother.”
I was surprised. “Are you sure?”
“I think we could not make a better choice.”
She shifted on the couch as I drew her legs across my lap. Now that she was nearing full term, by the end of the day her legs and feet were swollen and painful. Every evening after dinner, I massaged them and gave her a backrub.
“We could name a boy after you,” she suggested.
I shook my head. “Every child should have his own name,” I maintained. “They should never be named for anyone who’s still living.”
“All right,” she said with a nod. “I’ve also been thinking of Biblical names—Adam, Jacob, Joshua, Noah, David, Micah, Levi. What do you think?”
“He’s a Scot,” I said. “He should have a Scot’s name.”
“He’s half American,” Lynne reminded me.
“And he’s probably going to be born here in New Zealand,” I said. “Perhaps we should call him Kiwi?”
She smacked me playfully. “Kiwi?”
“You have a better idea?” I continued to rub her feet.
“I was going to ask you that question, but if Kiwi is the best you can do—”
“Sean,” I suggested.
“Sean Mackenzie.” She thought about it for a moment. “It has a good sound, but we already have a Sean in the family. My eldest sister’s son. Might get confusing.”
“Colin, then.” I massaged her calves, moving slowly up her legs.
“I love it—but too often Colin is mispronounced ‘Colon’,” she said.
“That’s not a mispronunciation,” I told her.
“That’s what concerns me.”
“What about Daniel?”
She nodded. “Daniel Mackenzie. I like it.”
I leaned down to kiss her belly. “Well, wee lad, at least you’ll have a name when you make your appearance.”
Her mood suddenly changed. “Think they’ll let us live once they have him?” she wondered aloud.
I stopped what I was doing and regarded her with equal seriousness. “They’re not going to touch him, and we’re going to be fine,” I promised. “I’ll find a way to deal with them.”
“You already know how to deal with them, Connor.”
I shook my head. “From what you’re telling me, that requires a faith I don’t have,” I said. “A belief I don’t have.”
“To believe, you have to open your heart. You’ve already done that.”
“I opened my heart to you—not that I had much choice. My heart wanted you from the start.”
“Your heart?” She smiled again. “I thought that was another part of you.”
“It was both,” I insisted. “The problem was that my heart and I had been strangers for so long, I didn’t recognize it when it spoke.”
The sound of someone entering the house startled both of us. I went for my handgun, pointing it at the movement in the shadows. “Hands up, where I can see them!” I shouted.
The man stepped forward. It was Gabriel, and he was unfazed by the sight of the gun. “You have nothing to be afraid of,” he assured us.
I lowered the gun. “Don’t startle me like that, old chap,” I said, my body sagging with relief.
“I apologize,” he said. “Rafaela and I are going to retire for the night and I came to see if there’s anything you might need.”
I looked at Lynne, who shook her head. I turned back to Gabriel. “No, thank you. We’re quite all right.”
“Good night, then.” He turned and left the house.
I turned back to Lynne. “Sometimes I think he’s a bloody ghost,” I complained. “He moves so quietly, I never know he’s around until he’s right here with me.”
Lynne rubbed my shoulder. “Maybe he’s a ninja,” she suggested.
I managed a smile. “Maybe we should put bells on him.”
“Orion.”
We were walking near the lake, enjoying an unusually pleasant evening. Lynne was now eight months pregnant, and looked as if she might give birth at any moment.
“That’s easy,” Lynne said. “Everyone knows Orion.”
“And I suppose you know all the difficult ones,” I responded with mock indignation.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” she said, naming several of them. “The Southern Cross, Phoenix, Lepus, Columba, Hydra, Libra.”
I smiled. “Ah, a stargazer,” I concluded.
“If I weren’t an archaeologist, I’d probably be an astronomer,” she confessed. “I got my first telescope when I was eight. When I was ten, I won a science fair competition with a project on space. When I was twelve, I told my parents I wanted to be an astronaut.”
“So instead of digging up the remnants of long-dead societies, you could be on the space shuttle,” I said.
“Maybe.” She paused. “What about you? What would you be if you weren’t a geneticist?”
I didn’t hesitate. “A porn star.”
She rolled her eyes. “Seriously.”
“I am serious,” I deadpanned. “Don’t you think I have the right stuff?”
“I’m not going to answer that,” she laughed.
“Actually,” I said, “I’d want to be a pianist.”
“A musician?” She couldn’t hide her surprise. “Concert pianist?”
I shook my head. “Rock star.” I started to sing to make my point.
Lynne laughed as I followed her around, singing. “You have a beautiful voice,” she told me. “You know, you’re going to have to handle the lullaby department when Kiwi arrives. I had to lip-sync in church.”
“My mother played the piano,” I said. “She learned as a child, and she taught me early on. We had so much fun playing together before she died—before she was killed. Edward had a grand piano at the house in London, but after my mum was gone, it was decided music was a waste of my alleged brilliance, that it was time to put aside the frivolous.”
“But you were just a little boy!”
My jaw tensed. “I don’t think Edward ever saw me as a child.”
“I can’t imagine what your life was like.”
“I can tell you, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it wasn’t something to be envied.”
“Something you can teach Kiwi here,” she said.
I put my hand on her belly. “I want our children to savor every moment of their childhood.”
I would kill for you, wee one. I already have…
61
Darcy
It was all over the newspapers. Agents of the FBI and Scotland Yard showed up at the corporate offices of Icarus International and at the Belgravia residence of Edward Rhys-Williams early one morning, armed with search warrants. They seized files, computers, and bank and phone records. Edward Rhys-Williams was arrested a week later, charged with fraud and tax evasion. I had yet to convince Ally to put me back on the story, so I was doing this o
n my own. I was going back to London, determined to find the truth.
I hated the security procedures at JFK Airport, but I knew they were necessary. I removed my shoes and emptied my pockets into the pan the screener offered and allowed myself to be scanned and patted down. I cheated death once, I reminded myself. No point in tempting the Grim Reaper again.
I was on my way back to London, to find the missing pieces to the puzzle that was Connor Mackenzie. Icarus might be a fortress, but the king’s in the slammer now. No knights to surround him. No one to keep me away from him.
Ally was furious when I told her where I was going.
“This story’s going to be big, Ally,” I predicted.
“I don’t doubt it,” she said. “I’ve already lost one man because of it.”
I grinned. “You’re the one who said God didn’t want me and the devil wouldn’t have me,” I reminded her.
I had to see this one through. I owed it to Charlie, and I owed it to Lynne.
“I wasn’t sure you’d agree to see me,” I said as I seated myself across from Edward Rhys-Williams. A glass partition separated us, and we spoke by telephone.
“Your message said you wished to speak with me about Andrew,” Rhys-Williams said. He looked around, as if he thought we were being watched. Of course we were, but he looked frightened by the thought.
“Your stepson is married to my ex-wife,” I told him.
He nodded.
I didn’t hesitate. “I know the truth,” I said.
He looked at me, a blank stare. “What truth is it you think you know?”
“I know he has special—abilities,” I told him. “I know he’s a genius. I also know he’s a healer.”
“His mother was mentally ill, Mr. Darcy. She had many strange notions about her son,” he said. “Some people actually believed her. You’re not the first.”
“How do you explain this?” I removed the photographs from the envelope I'd brought along and held them up to the glass.
He turned away.
“Angels,” I said. “Your stepson seems to have a pipeline to the Almighty.”
“Don’t be absurd.”
“If it’s just bullshit, why is someone killing people left and right to find him?” I challenged.
He was silent for a moment. "This was a setup," he said finally. "I'm no longer useful to them, so they've cut me loose."
"They—who?" I asked.
“I was about to lose everything,” he started. “Thirty-five years ago, I was facing bankruptcy. A young man showed up at my door with some big promises. I had nothing to lose, so I took the bait.”
“Bait?”
“They wanted to recruit me, so to speak,” he remembered. “They were part of some cult. They had some unbelievable ideas. I didn’t take it all seriously at the time. I suppose I should have.”
“Maybe you’d better explain,” I said.
He nodded. “They believed some bizarre prophecy about a prophet who would come to give hope to the world. I don’t know all of it, but they believed Andrew to be that prophet, and they wanted to prevent the prophecy from being realized.”
“What did they need you for?”
“They had to gain legal custody of him. He was only four years old at the time,” he explained. “They gave me success, and in return, all I had to do was marry Andrew’s mother so I would become his father legally.”
“What happened to his mother?”
“We were married less than two years,” he said. “Anne gave birth to my daughter, Sarah. Then she was murdered. I became Andrew’s sole guardian. It was in name only.”
I wasn't sure I understood.
“They dictated everything—where he would attend school, what he was and was not allowed to do,” he said. “They controlled his life until he was of legal age. It had a profoundly negative impact on him.”
“If they wanted to prevent fulfillment of the prophecy, why didn’t they just kill him?” I asked. “They apparently don’t have a problem with taking lives.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I think they believed they were mocking God by taking His chosen one, I’m not certain. They went to great expense to try to draw him into their plans.”
“Plans?”
“To create a superhuman race,” he said. “It all sounds absurd, I know, which is why I didn’t take it seriously. They were trying to duplicate what made Andrew special. Then he became a geneticist himself, and they were only too happy to take him into the fold.”
“The US authorities have been looking for him,” I said.
He nodded. “I know. They arranged for falsified documents to get him out of the US.”
“So he became Connor Mackenzie,” I concluded.
He nodded again. “He met your ex-wife and wanted to stay with her, and when she became pregnant, they targeted the child.”
“Targeted the child?” I asked.
“The prophecy makes a claim regarding subsequent generations,” he said. “The child is believed to be even more powerful than his father.”
"Do you know what you're saying?" I asked.
"You have the photographs. You've seen for yourself," he said.
“I need names,” I said, taking out a small notebook….
62
Caitlin
“Caitlin, it’s Darcy,” the caller identified himself.
“Not again—” I started.
“Hold your fire. Are you still on the Mackenzie case?” he asked.
I hesitated. “His name’s not Mackenzie,” I said finally.
“I know. He’s Dr. Andrew Stewart, genius gene manipulator and stepson of Mr. Megabucks,” he said with unmasked sarcasm. “Worked side-by-side with Dr. Frankenstein himself, I hear.”
I was surprised by how much he already knew about the case. “All right, you have my attention,” I said, perching on one corner of my desk. “What else do you know?”
“He’s a healer. There’s a woman in Scotland who claims he cured her cancer.”
“Right. Any more ridiculous claims?” I asked, my patience wearing thin.
“He had a guardian angel.”
“What?” I almost laughed.
“When he was five years old, he claimed to have a guardian angel,” Darcy said.
“Where did you hear this?” I asked. To Jack, who came in as we were talking, I mouthed “Darcy.”
“I strong-armed the head of the private school the Lord of the Geeks attended,” Darcy told me. “If you’d stop playing by the book, you might not have to hear this crap from me.”
“Anything else?”
“He’s epileptic. The kind that sees and hears things.”
“Excuse me?”
“He hallucinates. Some people think he’s having religious experiences, which is why he and my ex-wife had to fake their deaths.”
“And you know all of this—how?” I asked carefully.
“I just had a little chat with his incarcerated daddy.”
“And you believe all of this garbage?” I asked.
“I believe something screwy is going on,” Darcy said. “I believe a lot of people, including a very good friend of mine, died because of it.”
63
Darcy
I boarded the flight back to New York and found my seat. As the plane taxied down the runway and lifted off, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I’ve done all I can, pal, I thought. Charlie, I’ll do anything I can for your family. This is my fault. If I hadn’t dragged you into this, you’d be here now, griping and whining. I’d give anything if you were. I’d even let you have that damn donut.
Lynne’s disappearance, Charlie’s death, the incredible claims made about Connor Mackenzie…I had been forced to take a good, hard look at myself, and I didn’t like what I saw. That self-examination that had begun on the roof of my apartment building on the morning of September 11th, 2001 had come to a head when I found Charlie dead in that hotel room.
Duchess was right. I don’t kn
ow how to love.
My kids had grown up with a self-absorbed, absentee father. No wonder they felt like orphans. No wonder they wanted nothing to do with me.
My wives had never been more than sex partners for me. Cat and I should have worked. We were a match in every way, more than any other woman I’ve known, I realized. Trouble was, there were three of us in that relationship, too: Cat, me, and my ambition. She couldn’t compete.
What was it Duchess said? She could have named my career as a co-respondent in the divorce petition.
I hadn’t seen my son in five years, my daughter in four. Sam was an executive at a Madison Avenue advertising agency. Christina was a dancer in a Broadway musical. Did I have grandchildren? I didn’t know.
I took out my satellite phone as soon as it was allowed and placed a call. “Sam? It’s your father. Don’t hang up, please….”
64
Caitlin
Harry Lambert’s call took me by surprise. “Edward Rhys-Williams is dead.”
“Dead?” I asked. “How?”
“They claim it was suicide,” Lambert told me. “Supposedly, he hanged himself in his cell.”
“Supposedly?”
“I talked to a couple of people on the inside,” Lambert said. “They say he was found hanging, all right—with his hands tied behind his back.”
65
Lynne
I woke during the night with a vague ache in my lower back. I tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position. Finally, I got out of bed and walked around, rubbing my back, trying to remember what I’d eaten in the previous twenty-four hours that could have made me feel so queasy.
Connor turned over and felt my pillow, then raised his head. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Just a backache,” I told him. “I’m okay. Go back to sleep.”
“Come back to bed and I’ll give you a backrub,” he said, patting the mattress.
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