by Dan Willis
Andrea smiled as if she’d heard him, but she was past hearing. After a long moment, he gently closed her eyes, then leaned down to plant a kiss on her forehead.
Alex lifted Andrea as gently as he could with his injured leg, and laid her on one of the workbenches. He wanted to cover her, but he would have to go upstairs to get a sheet, and he simply didn’t have time for that. He did take the time to re-button her borrowed shirt, so it was straight, then he took off his suit coat and laid it over her, covering her face.
Grunting with every step, Alex limped back toward the foyer until he reached the kitchen and found a phone mounted on the wall.
“Mr. Lockerby,” Sorsha Kincaid’s secretary answered. “I’ve been trying to reach you. Miss Kincaid wanted you to know that she hasn’t had any luck locating Dr. Burnham’s notebook and she recommends you get your secretary, Dr. Bell, and Miss O’Neil out of town right away.”
Alex gripped the receiver and took a deep breath to cover the raw emotion boiling up inside him.
“I need you to get a message to your boss,” he said once he found his voice. “Tell her I know where the notebook is, and I know who took it. She needs to come get me and I’ll explain everything.” He gave the young man Connie Torres’ address and then hung up.
Next he called Iggy and told him to pick up Leslie and get out of the city. To his credit, Iggy didn’t argue and promised to be on the move within the hour. Alex thanked him and hung up.
Outside, he could hear the sound of cars pulling up in a hurry, their brakes squeaking. He ignored the locked front door and headed through the back hallway to the lab and onward to the far hall with the pictures and the dead man. Bending carefully, he retrieved the empty .38 and the picture from the broken frame, carrying them back to the lab and laying them on the workbench next to Dr. Kellin’s body.
From the front of the house came the sound of the police breaking down the front door. Alex looked down at Andrea and sighed.
“Sorry Doc,” he said. “I’m going to have to keep you waiting, just a bit longer.”
29
The Prodigal
By the time Sorsha arrived at Connie Torres’ house there were no less than two dozen police officers going over every inch of the place. Alex had given his statement to Danny when he’d arrived with the cavalry. He mostly told the truth, though he left out the part about Andrea and Lilith being the same person. Danny knew Alex well enough to know he was covering up something, but he didn’t press.
“All right, I’m here,” Sorsha said, sweeping into the lab. She sounded both eager and irritable, and she looked as tired as Alex felt. She’d tried to cover up the dark circles under her eyes with makeup, but this late in the day it was showing through.
“Hey, Danny,” Alex called, and a moment later his friend appeared from the picture hallway.
“Jesus, Alex,” he said as he crossed the room. “You said it was bad, but this is worse than before. What’s left of Connie Torres is barely recognizable.”
Sorsha made a disgusted face, seeming to see the room for the first time. The bodies of Flat-Face and the blond thug had been covered with sheets, as had Dr. Kellin.
“Danny,” Alex said, pointing at Sorsha. “You remember Miss Kincaid; she works with the FBI.”
Danny put on the smile he reserved for important people.
“Delighted to see you again,” he said with the smooth grace that made him a favorite of the ladies. “I wish it could be under better circumstances. What is the FBI’s interest in this mess?”
“Detective Pak,” she said, returning his smile, then she looked at Alex. “I need to borrow your friend for the foreseeable future.”
“Actually,” Alex said before Danny could respond. “I need to talk to both of you...privately.”
Danny raised an eyebrow, but turned to the three policemen in the lab.
“I need the room for a minute, boys,” he said. “Why don’t you go have a smoke?”
The cops didn’t look a gift horse the mouth, they just nodded and filed out.
“Okay,” Danny said, turning to Alex. “What didn’t you tell me about all this?”
Alex sighed. He didn’t want to talk about what had happened, but there was just too much that needed to be done and he could feel himself running out of time. He told them both about Andrea’s college project, about Leon’s Libation and how it had killed four college kids. He explained how Andrea had partially perfected it, how she’d used it to give her time to develop a potential cure for her daughter, and how Connie had sought to use it, mistakenly believing that Charles Grier knew the secret.
“So Lilith was…” Danny began but stopped, unable to finish the sentence.
“Dr. Kellin,” Sorsha finished. Her face was as cold and analytical as ever, but Alex detected a softness in her voice.
“Jessica,” he corrected. “Yes.”
“I’m very sorry, Alex,” Sorsha said, and he could tell she meant it.
“There’s no time for that,” Alex said, wanting to push past the awkward moment. “You’ve got to collect everything about Dr. Kellin’s rejuvenator,” he said to Danny. “Every formula, every note, and especially that flask. The cops won’t know what any of it is, so they won’t care if it goes missing from evidence.”
Danny looked aghast. Alex had asked him to turn a blind eye to things in the past, but stealing evidence was way beyond that.
“Don’t,” Alex said, as his friend was about to object. “This potion grants youth, strength, and lowers inhibitions. Just imagine what an unscrupulous man could do with it.” He turned to Sorsha. “Or an unscrupulous government.”
Danny whistled at the thought, shaking his head.
“He’s right,” Sorsha said to Danny. “Word of this can’t go beyond the three of us. You make sure to collect everything here and I’ll go out to Columbia and get the rest.”
“Can I trust you with this, Sorceress?” Alex asked, looking her right in the eye.
She drew herself up as if she was going to shout at him, but she only nodded.
“Good,” Alex said. He hadn’t been certain they would agree with him, but he had to make sure the rejuvenator remained a secret.
“I hate to be impertinent,” Sorsha said after a brief silence descended between them. “I believe you have something else to tell me, about a certain notebook.”
Alex nodded, then patted Danny on the shoulder.
“Do me a favor,” he said. “Once you finish up here, go see your sister.”
Danny’s brows furrowed at that.
“She’s in Philadelphia,” he said.
Alex nodded and Danny’s furrowed brows grew into a scowl.
“What else aren’t you telling me?” he demanded.
“Nothing he’s at liberty to tell you,” Sorsha interjected.
“It’s nothing you can help with,” Alex assured him. “Just go see Amy.”
Danny met his eyes for a long moment, then nodded.
“All right,” he said. “But you and I are going to have a serious talk about your keeping me in the dark.”
“Looking forward to it,” Alex said, then he put out his hand. “But...if I don’t get the chance...you take care of yourself.”
Danny hesitated only for a moment, then shook Alex’s offered hand.
“Likewise,” he said. He could tell Alex meant more by the gesture than he let on, and he accepted it without comment. Alex wished he could take more time, say a proper goodbye to his best friend, but like most things in his current existence, there just wasn’t time.
Danny nodded at Sorsha, then headed for the door to the picture hallway.
“I’ll just go find that flask,” he said, then he was gone.
“I know you wanted more time,” Sorsha said. “But if there’s a chance we can save New York from burning, then we need to hurry.”
“I need you to promise me something first,” Alex said.
Sorsha drew in a breath to argue, but something in Alex’s ster
n look stopped her. Alex reached into his pocket and drew out the two vials of Dr. Kellin’s blood.
“Can you keep these cold?” he asked, handing them to her.
She half closed her eyes in a chastising look, then held up the two glass vials. As Alex watched, they fogged up, like spectacles taken from the cold into a hot room. After a moment, she pulled her handbag out of thin air and placed them gently inside.
Alex repeated Andrea’s instruction about where to take them and who to give them to.
“Next, I need you to find a place for Leslie,” he said. “You’ve got a big company, so I’m sure you can find something for her to do. Make sure she’s got a job.”
Sorsha’s eyes narrowed, and then her face blanched.
“Oh,” she said, realizing the meaning behind his requests. “I’ll see to it. Now, about that missing notebook.”
“It’s in Admiral Tennon’s office,” Alex said. “Call him and tell him we’re coming to see him and have him bring Commander Vaughn along.”
“You think one of them has it?” she guessed.
“I don’t want to explain it twice,” he said, pointing to his ripped trousers. “I’ve got a spare suit in my vault. “I’ll change while you make the call, then you can magic us over there.”
Teleportation was Alex’s least favorite way to travel, and that included being shot out of a cannon. The closest thing he could imagine to the sensation was being put through a clothes wringer and squeezed flat, then being rolled up and pushed through a dark pipe. Normally the experience left him trembling with his heart racing, but after the night he’d had, he simply dropped to his knees and vomited when he and Sorsha appeared outside the little building that housed Admiral Tennon’s office.
He’d managed to turn away from Sorsha, but she was having her own problems, gasping for air and unable to stand up. Finally, Alex managed to stop his trembling and force himself to stand. He wiped his mouth with his handkerchief, then helped Sorsha to her feet.
“You really know how to show a girl a good time,” Sorsha said, as he pulled her up off the ground.
“Funny,” he said, taking her arm and heading for the door.
The last time Alex had checked his watch it was about six, so he was sure it was after seven by now. The offices in the poorly-constructed little building were empty and dark except for the one at the end of the hall. The pudgy Commander Vaughn sat on Lt. Leavitt’s desk with the receiver of the telephone pressed to his ear. He waved them forward when he saw Alex and Sorsha.
“I don’t care about that,” he was saying into the receiver. “He’s got one good engine, tell him to get underway immediately, and that’s an order.”
Vaughn hung up, then stood.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “We’ve been moving ships all day.”
“I thought you did that days ago?” Alex said.
Vaughn laughed.
“Moving a big ship isn’t like launching a yacht,” he said. “Just getting the provisions and fuel on board can take days.”
He moved to the Admiral’s door and knocked, then pushed it open. Admiral Tennon sat behind his desk, also on the phone. A mountain of paperwork littered his desktop and he looked both tired and irritable.
“Just a minute,” Tennon said, looking at Vaughn. “Is the Carolina underway?”
“Within the hour,” Vaughn replied.
Tennon nodded and pressed the receiver back to his ear.
“The Carolina’s on her way out,” he said. “Tell Captain Falwell to depart as soon as she’s clear of the harbor.” He hung up the phone and stood, facing Sorsha. “As you can see, Miss Kincaid, we’re all quite busy, so please tell me why you're here.”
Sorsha looked expectantly at Alex.
“We need Dr. Burnham’s notebook,” Alex said as if that were a perfectly reasonable request, like asking a librarian for a copy of the almanac.
“What are you talking about?” Tennon roared. “You know very well we don’t have it.”
“I hate to disagree with you, Admiral,” Alex said, “but it’s inside your safe.”
“What utter nonsense,” Tennon growled, looking at Sorsha. “I’ve got important work to do and you’re wasting my time.”
“Indulge me,” she said with a winsome smile.
Tennon clenched his fists for a moment, but then he relaxed, though he did roll his eyes as he opened his desk drawer and pulled out a black, pasteboard notebook. He went to the cabinet that concealed his safe and pulled it open before consulting the book. As he began to dial the combination, Sorsha leaned close to Alex and the smell of her rose oil perfume washed over him.
“If the notebook is in that safe,” she whispered, “then why couldn’t your finding rune locate it?”
“That’s a Chubb fireproof safe,” Alex whispered back.
Tennon cranked the lever and pulled the heavy door open.
“I can see that,” Sorsha said. “That’s why the door is so thick, it’s lined with insulation.”
“And magical shielding,” Alex added.
“Well?” Tennon said, motioning to the open safe. “I don’t know what you’re looking for, but it’s not here. Care to explain yourself?”
Alex felt his blood go cold. He remembered the inside of that safe very well and now something was missing. The leather folio that had occupied the far side of the bottom slot was gone. Alex looked back toward the outer office, finally realizing what he’d failed to notice on their way in.
“Where is Lieutenant Leavitt?” he asked.
“In sick bay,” Vaughn said. “He wasn’t feeling well.”
“Wait,” Sorhsa said, grabbing Alex’s arm. “You think Leavitt stole Burnham’s machine?”
“That’s absurd,” Tennon barked, his face clouded with anger. “Leavitt is a fine and dutiful officer. He didn’t even know about Project: Shade Tree.”
“And he wouldn’t know any Chinese nationals,” Vaughn added.
Alex gave Admiral Tennon a flat look.
“Of course he knew about Shade Tree,” Alex said. “He has access to your safe and takes notes in your meetings.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the folded-up picture he’d taken from Connie Torres’ home, passing it to Sorsha. “As for Chinese nationals, the Lieutenant does know some through his connection with his father.”
“Who the devil is Leavitt’s father?” Tennon demanded.
“William Henderson,” Alex said.
“The U.S. Ambassador to China?” Vaughn asked.
“That can’t be, Alex,” Sorsha said. “Henderson only has one child, David Henderson, and he died three years ago.”
“No,” Alex disagreed. “He didn’t. Remember, David was an embarrassment to his father, so dear old dad cut him off without a penny.”
“Served him right, from what I remember,” Tennon said. “That boy was a lout.”
“True, but he was Henderson’s only son,” Alex went on. “He didn’t want his son living on the streets, he wanted to teach him a lesson.”
“And what better way to whip a wayward child into shape than in the Navy,” Sorsha guessed.
“Exactly,” Alex said. “Daddy fabricates the story about David’s death and then buys him a commission. Probably uses his influence to get David a nice cushy job as an admiral’s aide.”
“I refuse to believe any of this,” Tennon said. “Lieutenant Leavitt’s name isn’t David, it’s Randall.”
Sorsha pulled her notebook out of the air and began flipping through the pages.
“David Henderson’s middle name is Randall,” she said.
“Now look at that picture,” Alex said.
Sorsha pulled the folded picture from behind her notebook and opened it. After a moment she looked up quizzically at Alex.
“Who are these people?” she asked.
“That’s Constantine Torres,” Alex said, indicating the man. “He’s an alchemist who made a fortune in cosmetics. And that,” he pointed to the blonde woman, “is a famous
Broadway star from the turn of the century. I recognized her from a picture I saw in Andrew Barton’s office. He said she was in demand, with lots of suitors, but she married a swell and gave up acting.”
“I know her,” Sorsha said at last. “This is William Henderson’s wife. She met us briefly when we interviewed him.” Sorsha changed back to her notebook. “Yes. Her name is Jennifer.”
“Now turn that picture over,” Alex said, not bothering to hide his grin.
“Connie,” Sorsha read after turning over the picture. “Best wishes, Jenny Leavitt.”
“So David Randall Henderson, embarrassment to his important father, takes his mother’s name and becomes Lieutenant Randall Leavitt,” Alex said.
“But why would Lieutenant Leavitt steal Shade Tree?” Commander Vaughn asked.
“He did it for the money,” Sorsha said. “His father cut him off because David was living it up, getting drunk at exclusive clubs, and smashing up cars. He probably hated his father for putting a stop to his fun.”
“So he figured how to cash out,” Alex said. “Steal a military secret and sell it to a government currently in a desperate war. A government where he already had contacts.”
“But even if you’re right,” Vaughn said. “How does he get away? If he disappears, the Navy is going to go looking for him.”
“That’s the best part,” Alex said. “The first time I came here, the Lieutenant had a duffle under his desk. He said it was an emergency travel bag. The top was open, and I could see clothes in it.”
“You think he ran for it?” Sorsha asked.
“No, he didn’t have to run,” Alex said. “He had a plan all worked out. Once he got paid, Lieutenant Randall Leavitt would mysteriously disappear, and the Chicago would sail with Seaman Tyler McCormick on board.”
“The spy?” Tennon demanded.
Alex shook his head.
“No, McCormick was never a spy. He was Leavitt’s alias, but when the fog showed up and delayed the Chicago from sailing, someone noticed that McCormick didn’t exist.”
“Why would he go from being a lieutenant to a seaman?” Tennon asked.