“The police commissioner got here a few minutes ago, he’s been trying to get us to shut down our operation,” Harold said. “He changed his tune a little, though, when we told him about the blue van.”
“Look, Carson,” the commissioner said over the phone, “don’t do anything stupid. I can’t devote the whole force to your hunch, but I’m sending a couple of patrol cars to the area. Let them handle it.”
“No thanks,” Richard said. “Newman has friends in high places, remember? And they know your phone number.”
“Leaving the school alone is one thing. Kidnapping is another. Just be sure—”
Richard hung up, concentrating on the van ahead. He searched the street for any sign of team members, but all the cabs and cars looked alike. There were no police cars in sight, and he had no idea how he was supposed to know when help had arrived.
The phone rang again. It was Harold.
“I don’t want to talk to his highness again,” Richard said.
“You won’t have to. Are you sure it’s the right van?”
“Positive.”
“You know, it could’ve been stolen. Maybe those are the real employees driving it. Or maybe there’s a whole fleet of Shapiro vans.”
“My gut tells me it’s right.”
“Pull up alongside it. See if it’s the same guys.”
Richard asked the driver to get closer beside the van. They were in the same lane, with four cars between them, so the driver changed lanes and tried to move up. He had to change lanes two more times, but he finally got beside the van just as Broadway intersected near Madison Square Park. Richard looked closely at the man driving the van. He was thin and stringy; his head almost touched the ceiling, his long, dark hair pulled back in a pony tail. Richard had never seen the man before.
“Can you see them?” Harold asked.
“Yeah. It’s a different guy.”
“Oh.”
The cab started to drop back, but Richard told the cabdriver to stay beside the van for a little longer. The van driver looked at the cab a couple of times, and seemed to get bothered when he noticed how Richard was looking in.
“You’re not exactly James Bond, you know,” the cabdriver said.
“I want him to see me. If this van’s the right one, something will happen.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. Something. That guy looks like he’s getting nervous.”
Harold asked what was going on, but Richard told him to sit tight. Richard could hear the commissioner shouting in the background, but he tried not to listen. He looked behind him and noticed there seemed to be more cabs crowded together than usual. He asked the cabdriver to check in with the dispatcher and find out if anything was going on with the other cabs.
“Something’s weird here,” the dispatcher said over the speaker. “About ten of them near you said something about following a blue van.” Richard and the cabdriver smiled at each other.
At the red light, the cabdriver was careful to see if the van would stop or go through. It stopped, and the cab stopped next to it. The van driver looked into the cab again, then knocked on the wall behind him. A small door opened, and the driver spoke to someone. Another man with deep-set eyes stepped into view and looked directly into the cab.
“That’s him!” Richard shouted into the phone. “That guy who tried to kidnap Christopher!”
The man recognized Richard and shouted to the van’s driver. Richard opened his door to get out, but the light changed and the van sped ahead.
“We can’t lose them,” Richard said.
“We won’t.”
“Where could they be going?”
“I don’t know,” the cabdriver answered. “We can’t let them get near any of the tunnels or bridges, though. We could lose them.”
“Carson,” the commissioner said over the phone, “don’t hang up.”
“What do you want?”
“Look, I’ve got more squad cars coming. Back off and let us take care of it. This is my job.”
“And this is my son.” Richard hung up again.
“Listen,” he said to the cabdriver, “can you have the dispatcher tell the other cabs to get on both sides of it? We want to keep the van on Fifth, not let it turn off.”
The driver gave instructions to the dispatcher. After a few minutes, the street became heavy with cabs. The men in the van seemed to realize there was a problem because they kept looking all around them, trying to change lanes, but none of the cab drivers let them. The van sped up, but the cabs did as well. A squad car pulled onto Fifth from 13th Street, and another from 10th, but neither could get near the van because of all the cabs.
Richard looked into the cabs nearest him. He didn’t recognize any of the passengers, but he could tell they were from the search teams. Determined. Focused on the van. Even the cab drivers appeared different, like hunters surrounding trapped prey.
Fifth Avenue ended at Washington Square Park in Greenwich Village, and the Park was just a block or two ahead. The men in the van were arguing now. The dark-eyed man was now holding a knife, still yelling at the driver, but not pointing the knife at him. The driver looked straight ahead, and the other man turned back to the small door that led to the back of the van.
“Ram him!” Richard shouted to the cabdriver.
“What?”
“He’s got a knife, and he’s going back into the van. Don’t let him go back there!”
“Man, this is like the movies!” the cabdriver said and he turned left sharply, ramming the van. The van driver turned, shocked, like his feelings had been hurt, and the other man fell down to the floor. The cab in front slowed down, keeping the van pinned among all the cabs. The man tried pulling himself up again, his hand bleeding, but the cabdriver rammed into the van once more, this time without being asked. The man fell back down. The van sped up, hitting the rear of the cab in front.
Finally, the van driver seemed to realize where he was headed, straight for Washington Square, and tried to turn to the right, slamming into the cab. The van slammed on the brakes and the driver jumped out, trying to make a run for it, not even looking back at his partner lying on the van floor. He didn’t get ten feet, though, before he realized it was hopeless. There wasn’t a car in the area—just cabs. The street running alongside the park was full of people—search team members, police, curious bystanders—blocking any chance for escape. Two officers ran up and ordered him to spread his arms and legs while they searched him.
The dark-eyed man stood up in the van. He held his bleeding hand, avoiding the eyes of the dozens of cab drivers and passengers who had gotten out of the cabs and stood in a circle around the van.
Five officers ran up to the van to make their arrest, and Richard and his cabdriver were already pulling on the handles to the van’s back door. When they got it open, they found at least ten large laundry bags tied at the top. Richard climbed into the van, picking up each bag and tossing it aside when he realized it was just full of clothes. After about six bags, he came to one he couldn’t pick up so easily. He tore at the cord, pulling it apart and opening the bag. Inside was Christopher, weak and exhausted, barely conscious.
“Daddy?”
Richard held his son’s face. “Yes,” he answered. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?” He rubbed his fingers through Christopher’s hair.
Christopher’s eyes opened more, and he seemed to recognize his father. “Daddy!” he said louder, holding out his arms and hugging Richard.
“Thank God you’re all right,” Richard said.
They hugged each other tighter.
“Do you want me?”
“I always wanted you, Christopher. I never sent you back to that place. I would never do that.”
As a police officer and two paramedics climbed into the van, father and son held onto each other, rocking back and forth.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
“Daddy, I want to go home.”
Christopher was holding his
father’s hand as they sat, exhausted, on a couch in the police station.
“So do I, Christopher, but we have to wait for the officer to come back,” Richard said. “The police commissioner said they wouldn’t keep us much longer. We have to help the police as much as we can.”
The police were treating him differently this time, probably feeling a good deal of pressure from every newspaper and television and radio station in New York to find out why a school was allowed to medically experiment with children.
“How are you two holding up?”
Richard looked up to see Joseph holding a large bag and smiling. The two embraced.
“So this is the famous Christopher,” Joseph said as he knelt down beside the boy. “You’ve helped a lot of children, son, probably without even knowing it.”
Christopher looked up at Richard and smiled.
“Here, I’ve got something for you,” Joseph said. He reached into the Macy’s bag and pulled out Christopher’s Winnie the Pooh bear.
“My bear!” Christopher grabbed it and hugged it. “I wondered if I’d ever see you again, Pooh!”
Joseph sat down with Richard and explained what he’d found out from the commissioner. The two men in the Shapiro’s van were going to take Christopher to a doctor named Boswell who worked for Newman in New Jersey. That doctor was going to inject the nanobots into Christopher. Warrants were being issued for the arrests of the superintendent, Dr. Newman, Hunter, Boswell, and other key individuals for a number of charges, including attempted kidnapping, kidnapping, and the homicides of the six other children who were part of the “Seven Cubs.”
“They’d taken Samuel to that doctor in New Jersey for the injection,” Joseph said, “but something went wrong once the nanobots entered his brain.” He paused. “He died within hours. Dr. Newman made it look like he ran away and had the body put by the Hudson after a few days.”
“I’m sorry, Joseph.”
“There’s a measure of peace in knowing what actually happened.”
“I’m just so sorry that happened to your son,” Richard said. “No one could’ve known how bad that place was.”
“Everyone knows now.”
“Maybe everyone will start thinking about what’s best for children. I never like it when people say our children are our most important resource, like they’re oil or trees or coal.”
“At least the Newman Home won’t be able to hurt another child.”
“What do you mean?”
Joseph smiled and handed him some papers. “I’ve got something for you to sign.”
Richard looked at the papers. “Is this what I think it is?”
“Absolutely,” Joseph said. “I wanted you to be the first. With your signature, you acknowledge that you are receiving custody of your son. Newman is closing down, Richard, and we’re getting all the kids back to their parents.”
Richard took the papers. All these years he’d fought with Carol just to get his son home for the summer, hoping it might extend to something more. He signed the papers and then knelt down in front of his son.
“You’re mine and I’m yours, Christopher. No one can take you away again.”
Christopher hugged his father.
“I don’t get it, Joseph,” Richard said, standing up. “Just because Newman’s going to be arrested doesn’t mean the school has to give up the children. Why aren’t they fighting this? You must be an amazing attorney, my friend.”
“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong. I can’t take any credit for this. It took a better lawyer to make this miracle happen so quickly.”
“Who?”
“The same person who gave me that bear for your son,” Joseph said, nodding towards the hallway. “She’s waiting out in the hall so she can get these papers back and process them.”
Christopher jumped up from the couch and held Richard’s leg.
“She’d like to talk to you both,” Joseph said. “Just for a minute.”
“I don’t know.”
Christopher held more tightly to his father’s leg. “I’m scared. Isn’t she the one who sent me back there?”
Richard knelt down again so they could be at eye level. “I know you’re scared, son, but you and I are together forever. You know that, don’t you?”
Christopher nodded. “But she wanted to get rid of me.”
“She never, ever wanted to get rid of you. She really believed that the best thing for you was to be at that school. Especially after you were almost kidnapped. She loves you so much she was willing to not be with you.”
“I almost understood until that last thing you said,” Christopher said, then smiled. “Let’s see her.”
Joseph left the room with the papers. In a couple of minutes, the door opened and Carol peered in. Richard and Christopher stood up.
“Come in, Carol,” Richard said.
Carol came in the room and knelt down beside Christopher. She held his face in her hands and looked into his eyes. “I had no idea,” she said. “I’m so sorry. You’ve got to believe me. I only wanted what was best for you.” She kissed him on the forehead, then pulled him close to her and hugged him. Christopher kept holding Richard’s hand.
“I believe you,” Christopher said, looking down at his bear. “But what do you think is best for me now?” Richard could feel his son’s grip on his hand tighten.
“To be home with your dad,” she answered. “I know that’s what’s best for you.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
The first week after signing the papers, Richard and Christopher recuperated at Grandma and Grandpa’s. David took time off from work to be with the family. The only rule in the house was not to mention anything that had recently happened. For one week, they did their best to forget.
After the week in Vermont, Richard and Christopher returned to their apartment. They enjoyed their days together, but in the evenings, after his son went to bed, Richard kept up with what was happening to the Newman system. All the schools were closed down, by court order, and other schools scrambled to make room for the children. Parents of the younger former residents were busy trying to make new arrangements in this new world where there were no boarding schools for such young children. Doctors and scientists discussed the status of nanorobotics on talk shows, explaining they had been working for years to use nanobots to help with patients, but that they were still years away from being able to do anything like what Newman had tried. Then, of course, other experts followed up with debates about whether they should even try to change someone’s ability to learn in such a way.
It was the middle of the first week back home in their apartment, almost noon. The buzzer rang for the intercom at the front door. Richard made certain the visitor was who he was expecting, then pressed the buzzer to open the door downstairs. After a few minutes, there was a knock at the door and Richard opened it.
“Carol, you look great.”
She tried to smile, but Richard could tell she wasn’t happy. They’d agreed she’d drop by the preliminary divorce agreement while Christopher was with Uncle David at Central Park.
Richard took her into the living room and they sat on the couch.
“How’s he doing?” she asked.
“Really well. He’s adjusting well and we’re having a great time together. And, get this: literally every private school in Manhattan has offered him a slot, all tuition and fees waived.”
She smiled. “Well, you know how important a good education is for a child’s future.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Carol opened her briefcase and pulled out the papers.
“I still believe we’re rushing this,” Richard said.
She nodded. “You two need to get going with your new life. I don’t want to stand in the way.”
“But I wonder—”
“It’s all there,” she said, handing the papers to him. “The child support is very generous.”
“That’s not the—”
“No, I can afford it. P
lus, I want to pay some alimony so you don’t have to work too many hours and can take care of Christopher.”
“I think we—”
“I’ve also included a list of—”
“Carol, slow down! I need to show you something. In Christopher’s room.”
“What is it?”
“Something you need to see before I can sign any of these papers.”
Richard motioned to their son’s door. Carol opened it, stepping back when she saw Christopher sitting on his bed.
“Hi, Carol,” Christopher said.
She put her hand to her mouth, trying to keep her emotions checked. Richard stood by the door. “Christopher and I have been talking a lot lately, and he’s got something to tell you.”
“I see,” she said. “What is it, Christopher?”
Christopher cleared his throat, then looked up at his mother.
“Well…” he said, looking around his room. “I don’t know how to start.”
“I really like your room,” she said. “You’ve got a lot of fun things in here.”
“Thanks,” Christopher said, holding onto Winnie the Pooh. “These posters are like the ones Grandma and Grandpa got me when we visited in Vermont.” He pointed to the posters on his wall. “Not the exact same. I wanted something a little different.”
“They’re very nice,” she said.
“And I have this great bedspread, with all my favorite cars on it.” Christopher patted the bedspread. “Come feel how comfortable it is.”
Carol walked over to the bed and touched the bedspread, but Christopher took her hand and pulled her down to sit by him.
“But my very favorite thing in this room is this,” Christopher said, reaching for the picture of the three of them in front of the Brooklyn Bridge. He touched each of the faces. “Isn’t this a great picture?”
Carol nodded.
“I see it when I first wake up every morning,” Christopher said, handing the picture to her.
“This has always been one of my favorite pictures, too.” She touched each of the faces, like her son had done. “I’m so sorry. You can’t begin to understand how sorry I am.”
The Newman Resident Page 23