"Sit and pull your jeans down."
"I told you the other night not to get any ideas."
She didn't smile. "Just do it."
Jack loosened the strap, then slid his jeans down to his knees.
Alicia inspected the two-inch vertical slit. "That's a deep one. Did you feel it hit the bone?"
"No. The guy who did it didn't have much oomph left."
"Luckily it runs in line with the muscle fibers of your quadriceps," she said as she began to wrap the thigh with strips of the sheet. She seemed to have slipped fully into her doctor mode. "The femoral artery and nerve are over here, so it missed them completely. Should heal up pretty well, but you will need stitches. ERs have to report stab wounds—"
"I know a guy who doesn't."
"I'm sure you do."
"What's our next step here?" he said as she continued to bind his leg.
"I was hoping you'd know."
"I can take care of the bodies. Haul them off in whatever they arrived in—a dark van, I'll bet—and leave them somewhere."
"Not Thomas," she said. "We owe him."
Jack looked over at Thomas's crumpled, bloody corpse. "Yeah, I guess we do. Okay, so I'll drop the bodies somewhere and place a call, telling the local sheriff or whatever where they can be found. And then let the crime busters have a grand old time figuring out the who, what, where, when, and how."
"Do you think they will—figure this out, I mean?"
"Not if I drop them far enough away. But the other question is… how are you going to handle broadcast power, now that you're the sole owner?"
"I guess I'm supposed to reveal it to the world. But if what Thomas said about the patents is true, I can plan on a long fight with the patent holders. Frankly, I've had enough of lawyers for a long time."
"There's always the Japanese. Yoshio's people will pay big bucks."
"You sound like you like that one."
"Yeah, well, take the money and run, and let them worry about the lawyers."
"You know," she said, "I don't care how much anybody wants to pay. The thought of profiting from anything that man touched makes me physically ill."
"So that leaves giving away the technology to everybody. Publishing it on the Internet—"
Her eyes flashed as she looked up at him. "Along with pictures of Thomas and me?"
"Hey, I didn't mean that. I meant the Internet would allow anybody who wanted to develop the technology to have free access to the plans."
"But what about you?" she said. "A third of nothing is nothing. I hate to see you come out on the short end of this, Jack. I mean, you've been stabbed, you almost got killed—"
"Don't worry about that. I couldn't take the money anyway."
"Why not?"
"Because I already have pretty much everything I want."
Alicia's gray eyes softened as she looked at him. "Do you? Do you really?"
"Yeah, well, sort of. And what I don't have, money can't buy me, so leave me out of the equation and do what you have to."
And the truth was, Jack couldn't see any way in the world to hide the kind of windfall that even a tiny share of broadcast power would bring. He'd have to come out from under to claim it, and he wasn't ready for that just yet. Not even for a couple three billion.
"Jack," she said as she tied the last strip of sheet. And now she sounded so weary. "I don't know what I have to do. I've got to think about it."
"Well," he said, standing and pulling up his jeans, "while you're thinking, I'm going to start gathering up the casualties."
13
It took Jack a while to lug all six bodies, especially the two from the woods, to Baker's panel truck. A quarter inch of snow had collected by the time he arrived with the last—Kemel.
He could leave soon. He wasn't traveling with this cargo until it was fully dark. The last thing he needed was someone casually glancing into the rear window and seeing half a dozen corpses.
Jack thought Kemel was dead, but he startled Jack by letting out a moan as he was dumped on top of Baker.
"Please. A doctor… the pain…"
This wasn't good. If Kemel somehow hung oh until he was found, some hero with a scalpel and thread might actually save him. And that wouldn't do. Wouldn't do at all.
'Told you," Jack said. 'The folks on JAL 27 voted no doctor for Kemel."
The Arab whispered something Jack didn't catch. He leaned closer to hear.
"Plane… not me."
"But you knew about it, didn't you, you son of a bitch."
He saw the answer in Kemel's glazed eyes.
The adrenaline had trailed off, leaving Jack with a pounding headache. His thigh throbbed worse than ever from the exertion of moving the bodies. Foul didn't come close to his mood now. His mood was way far beyond foul… somewhere out near Mars, or maybe Saturn. And he knew from experience how dangerous that could be. He tended to become… unreasonable when he got this way.
Usually when he recognized the signs he'd step back, take a time-out, and push the darkness back into his personal basement. And he'd have been able to do that now if Kemel weren't alive. But knowing this rotten piece of camel dung was still breathing…
"Yeah, you knew about it, but did you call and give a warning? No. You let all those people die just to get rid of one man."
"Not me…"
"Yeah? Then who?"
"Please… the pain… please stop the pain."
What was he asking for? A coup de grace?
"You tell me who ordered the bomb, and I'll let you stop the pain."
"No… you… please."
"Sorry. I don't owe you that. But the name?"
"Nazer… Khalid Nazer."
"And where do I find him?"
"Iswid Nahr… trade mission… UN."
Khalid Nazer… Jack made a mental note of that as he drew Baker's 9mm. He popped the clip, leaving the chambered round; cocked the hammer, then pressed the muzzle into the soft spot under Kemel's jaw. He wrapped the Arab's fingers around the grip.
"Say your prayers and pull the trigger."
Then he walked away, leaving Kemel with his dose of the ultimate analgesic.
14
Alicia started at the sound of the shot. She looked up and saw Jack limping across the clearing toward her. He looked weary. The Jack who'd driven her up here had changed into someone else, someone as cold and ruthless as the men he'd killed. As she'd bandaged his leg a while ago, she'd sensed the original Jack coming back… but slowly.
"What happened?" she called. "Are you all right?"
He nodded. "Just someone giving himself some permanent pain relief."
That someone could only be the Arab. Good Lord, how had he hung on this long?
"You ready to go?" Jack said. "I'll lead you out."
Alicia shook her head, "You go ahead. I'm going to stay awhile."
"The snow's sticking. You might not be able to get out later."
"That's okay. It's warm inside. And I've got a lot of thinking to do."
"You sure?"
"Very."
"Okay," he said, shrugging. "I'll leave you one of the cell phones. Call me when you get back, and I'll return the car."
"I will."
He turned to go, then turned back to her. "You sure you'll be all right?"
"Positive," she said, putting on a confident smile. "I just need to be alone right now."
"Yeah, well, that's one thing you'll be up here. Take care, Alicia." He waved as he turned. "And hey… Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas to you, Jack."
Merry Christmas… she'd forgotten all about Christmas. Only three days away… the season to be jolly…
She watched Jack fade into the snowy dusk, then stepped back into the cabin and closed the door.
She'd known from the moment it was over that she'd be staying here awhile. So while Jack was moving the bodies, she did her best to clean the blood from the floor. Finally she'd moved the throw rug from under the table and lai
d it over the stains.
She stepped over to the humming transformer-transmitter and stared at the beam of palpably bright light.
Technology to change the world… and make Ronald Clayton a revered figure… one of history's great men…
the man of the century… the man of the millennium…
But Ronald Clayton wasn't a great man… wasn't even an ordinary man… he was a monster who sullied every life he touched…
And the thought of history raising monuments to him…
She wanted to retch.
And yet, what right did she have to withhold such a marvel from the world?
None. She was just one person, and there were billions who could benefit.
She could feel the strings… tugging at her… manipulating her like a marionette. And she knew the name of the puppeteer.
Yes… she had a lot of thinking to do.
CHRISTMAS EVE
1
Alicia drove downhill through the darkness toward the lights of New Paltz. She felt light-headed, almost giddy.
Two days it had taken her, two full days of agonizing, but she'd finally made up her mind.
And now she felt… clean. Yes, clean … that was the only word for it. As if she'd shed a ratty, moth-eaten old skin and now had a new one to show the world.
Going to be a different Alicia Clayton from now on. A whole new attitude, a whole new outlook. Starting tonight. Wasn't going to be easy… she had no illusions about that. But she had this feeling that if she kept pretending to be the new Alicia, after a while she'd start believing it.
That was the only way to go. Because the life she'd been leading lately was no life at all. Sure, the work was important, but there had to be more than that. Alicia was determined to have a full life. A good life.
Living well is the best revenge… how often had she heard that expression? Now she realized that it doubly applied to her.
Alicia listened to one of the all-news AM stations from the city as she made her way through the slushy, light-festooned streets of New Paltz. She'd been out of touch for two days but learned she hadn't missed much.
The only story vaguely interesting concerned an Arab trade envoy named Nazer or something who'd been murdered execution style outside his Manhattan apartment. An assassination? the newsman wanted to know. Police were speculating whether this death was related to that of the murdered Arab who was found recently along with five other bodies in the Catskills.
Alicia wondered too.
She turned off the radio as she pulled onto the thru way. She set the cruise control, then picked up the cell phone. Tension knotted in her chest as she punched in a number. Her thumb hesitated over the send button, but she took a deep breath and forced it down.
When she heard a familiar voice say hello, she almost hung up, but pushed the words past her dry throat.
"Will? This is Alicia. Can we talk?"
2
"This isn't exactly the Christmas Eve I'd planned," Jack said.
Gia and Vicky had dragged him down to the Center for Children with AIDS and into the infant care area. Gia kept telling him the babies didn't have AIDS—they were simply HIV-positive. As if that was a big consolation.
"And what exactly did you have planned?" Gia asked from a rocking chair where she was feeding a blanket-wrapped three-month-old. She was wearing green-and-red plaid slacks and a red turtleneck sweater. Christmas colors.
"Well… me by the fire with a hot toddy, you in the kitchen preparing the Christmas goose…"
She grinned. "And Tiny Vicks saying, 'God bless us, everyone,' I suppose."
"Something like that."
"Dream on, Scrooge."
Vicky laughed from a neighboring rocking chair where she cuddled another baby. She wore a red velvet dress and white tights. "He's not Uncle Scrooge. He's Jack Crachit!"
Ebenezer Scrooge had been Disneyfied into Uncle Scrooge in Vicky's mind, but Jack didn't correct her. Uncle Scrooge was an old friend.
"Hearty-har-har-har, Vicks," Jack said. He had his own rocking chair, but no baby, which was just fine with him.
Gia stood and lifted the baby against her shoulder.
"He is Mr. Scrooge," she said, patting the baby's back. "Look at him sitting there listening to his radio, the epitome of the Christmas spirit."
He'd brought along a portable radio and had set it on a window ledge, playing low.
"It's Christmas music," he said.
The tiny speaker wasn't doing any justice to Shawn Colvin's very cool version of "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," but she sounded great anyway.
"Yeah, but it's that same upstate station you've been listening to for the past two days. What's so interesting in the Catskills?"
"I've been following a story up there."
Gia stared at him. "The one about…?"
She didn't finish the sentence but he knew what story she meant. The six corpses found at a rest stop along the thruway—"Shocking Mass Murder!"—had made all the media.
She obviously didn't want to mention the specifics in front of Vicky.
He nodded. "That's the one."
Jack had parked the truck in a corner of the rest stop lot and called Julio. He'd eaten a couple of cheeseburgers and hung out, watching the snow until Julio arrived, then the two of them had headed back to the city. Along the way, Jack stopped at a gas station and phoned in a tip about the abandoned panel truck.
Gia's mouth tightened and she turned away. The baby, a little black girl, peered at Jack over Gia's shoulder and burped.
"There's a good girl," Gia said. She turned and approached Jack, stopping directly in front of him. "Hold out your arms," she said.
"No, Gia, really—"
"Do it, Jack. Trust me, you need this. You really do. But she needs it more."
"Come on, Gia—"
"No, I mean it."
She turned the baby so Jack could see her face. The dark eyes stared at him for a few seconds, then she smiled.
Gas, Jack thought.
"Her name's Felicity. One of the nurses started calling her that because her mother took off without bothering to name her. Felicity had to go through crack withdrawal during her first week of life; she's HIV positive, and she's been abandoned. She's got no one to hold her, Jack. Babies need to be held. So go ahead. Give her a break. It won't kill you."
"It's not that…"
"Jack." She held Felicity out to him.
"Oh, okay."
Gingerly, skittishly, Jack let Gia place the baby into his arms.
"Careful, now," he said. Why was she making him do this? "Careful. Jeez, don't let me drop her."
Gia laughed softly, and the sound made him relax. "She's fragile, but not that fragile."
Finally he had her, with her head nestled in the crook of his right arm. She skooched and squirmed, and so Jack held her tighter, snuggling his arms around her so she'd know she was secure, with no place to fall. Gia put a pacifier into her mouth and Felicity began to suck. That seemed to work. She closed her eyes and lay quiet.
"How's it feel?" Gia said.
Jack looked up at her. "It feels… okay."
Gia smiled. "Coming from you, that's the equivalent of 'fabulous,' I guess."
Jack stared back down at Felicity's innocent little face, thinking about what this kid had been through already in her life. And the worst was most likely yet to come. He felt taken by a furious urge to protect her… from everything.
"It is fabulous, Gia."
And he meant it. That something as simple as being held by another human could be so important to an infant was almost… overwhelming.
"Nice little gifts your folks passed on to you, Felicity: an addiction and a killer virus. Where do you go from here?"
"A foster home eventually," Gia said.
He looked up again and saw tears in her eyes. "They need so much, Jack. I wish I could take in every one of them."
"I know you do," he said softly.
Darlene Love's
"Christmas" segued into the news, and the new big local story in the Catskills was the fire raging on a mountaintop west of New Paltz.
Jack repressed a groan. "Gia, can you get that little truck from my jacket?"
"You brought that here?"
"I'll get it, Mom," Vicky said, jumping up and handing her baby to Gia.
She'd been playing with the truck all afternoon, laughing at the way it always ran into the same wall. She pulled it from Jack's jacket pocket and clicked the power button.
"Hey, Jack," she said, frowning. "It doesn't work." She clicked the button back and forth a few times. "The batteries must be dead."
"Make sure the aerial is tight," he said.
He watched her jiggle it in its socket, then try the button again.
"Nope," she said. "Dead."
"We have some batteries at home," Gia said. "What kind does it take?"
"They don't make them anymore."
As Gia returned Vicky's baby to her, and went to get another for herself, Jack sat with Felicity, rocking and thinking.
Alicia had come to her decision. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe the world wasn't ready for broadcast power. But he doubted that consideration played any part in Alicia's decision. He wondered where she was tonight, and hoped she wouldn't have to be alone.
He leaned back and let the peace and warm feelings from Felicity fill him.
"Something wrong, Jack?" Gia said as she began rocking a new baby. "You look sad."
"No, I'm fine," he said. "Actually, I'm kind of glad."
Because he realized that what Ronald Clayton had discovered, others could discover as well. One way or another, broadcast power would be part of the not-too-distant future… but public parks with statues of Ronald Clayton, would not.
"And you know," he said, "this isn't a bad way at all for the three of us to spend Christmas Eve. In fact, I think it's pretty damn good."
Gia's wonderful smile made it even better.
Join Repairman Jack on an all-new adventure in Conspiracies, coming from Forge Books in January 2000!
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Repairman Jack 02 - Legacies Page 37