“Dr. Heaton’s brother is kind of a dick,” John said as Daniel finally escaped out the front door.
Sandra laughed. “You’re not wrong.”
Gilly came over and sat down heavily on the couch next to John. He picked up her hand. He’d told himself all day long he wasn’t going to ask are you okay? Stupidest thing you can ask anyone who has just lost a parent. And he’d heard most of the people today say it over and over again.
“You look done in,” Dr. Lynch said. It surprised John to hear it from her. She was the least nurturing person he’d ever met.
“I’m going to bed,” Gilly said. “I’m absolutely wrecked. The doc gave me a pill to help me sleep but I don’t think I’ll need it tonight.”
John gave her a hand a squeeze and watched her walk to the stairs. If it were him about to go to bed on the day he buried a beloved parent, she’d probably send him up with a cup of tea or something. He felt at a loss for a moment but the moment passed and she was gone. He looked back at Dr. Lynch. For the first time all day he saw her grief on her face and it startled him. Gilly was right. Dr. Lynch had loved her father. Even if she had a seriously crap way of showing it.
“Is it weird that Dr. Heaton’s brother thinks the doc’s work was still with a bucket infiltration system?” John asked.
Dr. Lynch’s face brightened and she looked at John. “You mean is it weird that Finlay lied to his own brother, the same brother who’d hired him to find the cure in the first place?”
“Why would Dr. Heaton lie to him?”
“Maybe because he didn’t trust him?”
“His own brother?”
She shrugged. “Finlay told Daniel he had a breakthrough. Daniel assumed it was with Finlay’s bucket system. You and I both know the cure has nothing to do with buckets.”
“Did you tell Mr. Heaton that?”
“I did not.”
“Why not?”
“If Finlay didn’t trust him, I sure as hell don’t.”
“But Mr. Heaton hired his brother to find the cure. It makes no sense.”
“It does if you understand power. To save people or let them die is not the point. It’s the ability to do so or not. Whoever has that power has everything. They’re God.”
They sat in silence for awhile. The ticking of the mantle clock was loud and John wondered why he’d never heard it before during all the times he’d sat in this room reading or watching the fire.
“He was an amazing man,” John said.
“He was.”
“I’ll never forget him.”
“He cared for you very much,” Dr. Lynch said. They sat again in silence for a few moments before Dr. Lynch finally spoke again.
“Only three people know Finlay found the cure.” She turned to John. “Me, Gilly…and you. And not the specifics of what the cure is either.”
John felt a wash of unease creep over his skin like a million ants running up and down his arms.
“Are you sure he didn’t share the specifics of his work with…anyone?” he asked.
Sandra narrowed her eyes. “It’s one of the reasons he didn’t make friends in the lab. Finlay didn’t share his work with anyone.”
Except me, John thought. He shared all of it with me. By the way Dr. Lynch looked at him, he didn’t need to say it out loud.
She knew.
He took in a big breath. It doesn’t matter. None of this matters. People were dying all over Europe and the United Kingdom. If John’s idea about the birds was right, they’d start dying in Ireland before long. This discovery was too important. It couldn’t die with Dr. Heaton.
“It was me,” Dr. Lynch said in a low voice. John turned to look at her. She was staring at her hands in her lap. “I’d seen you write in that notebook. I don’t know what came over me. I just wanted so badly to know what he was doing. I’m sorry.”
“I told Dr. Heaton it was you,” John said. “He said intense curiosity is the bedrock of a scientific mind.”
“Well, that’s bollocks. But I love him for it.”
Suddenly John knew what he needed to do. John was the only one who knew the specific components of the cure. Dr. Heaton didn’t even trust his brother with the truth. So John couldn’t trust him either. That meant, if the cure was going to get to the people it was intended for—the people Dr. Heaton intended it for—John needed to take it there himself.
“I have to go to the World Health Organization,” he said.
“That’s in Brussels,” Dr. Lynch said, frowning.
“I keep hearing how small Europe is compared to the States. How far is Brussels from here? Like the same distance from Tampa to Orlando or something?”
“There’s water between here and there and the Chunnel hasn’t reopened yet.”
“How do people get across?”
“With the plague ripping up France, most people don’t. Besides, what do you plan on bringing to them exactly? Only Finlay knew the formula.”
John paused. “I do too.”
Dr. Lynch leaned back in her chair. She closed her eyes as though she’d just finished a long fight and was now depleted. “I thought you might. Do you feel comfortable telling me what it is?”
John hesitated. Dr. Heaton hadn’t told Dr. Lynch. And if he hadn’t told her it was likely for a good reason. The problem was, while John knew it was the wasp moonflower honey that was the key to the medication, he also knew there was more to it than that. Whatever virus-inhibiting compound the doc had discovered in the honey had gone with him to the grave.
If anybody could recreate his steps in the laboratory, it was Dr. Lynch.
“It’s a compound found in moonflower honey,” he said.
“You must be kidding.” She sat up straight and her eyes bored into his.
“Dr. Heaton was able to isolate the compound in the honey that inhibits the virus’s action in the body.”
“I’ll be damned.”
John’s gut twisted. He’d just told Dr. Heaton’s secret to one of the people Dr. Heaton hadn’t trusted. Dr. Lynch looked like her mind was calculating a thousand different formulas in her head. Her eyes were hungry and alive.
She looked like someone who had finally gotten what she wanted.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The next morning—the day after John was to have gone to Ireland and five days after Dr. Heaton was murdered—John selected the largest jar of wasp honey in the kitchen cupboard. Dr. Heaton had stored his supply of six moonflower honey jars up high to prevent Gilly from accidentally using one of them for their breakfast. The doc couldn’t risk keeping any of the honey at the lab.
While Gilly dressed, John carefully wrapped padding around the jar and slipped it into his backpack. He looked around the kitchen of the townhouse. This had been his home for three months and they had been good months and exciting months. He’d found love and acceptance here. He’d found a sense of where he belonged here.
He glanced at his backpack and fought back a shiver. There was still a major challenge ahead before he could even think of trying to find his way back to Ireland. If Dr. Heaton was right, once the cure began to affect mortality rates on the continent, Ireland would drop its border restrictions. However long that took, John would need to be ready.
A knock at the door brought John out of his thoughts. When he opened the door, Dr. Lynch stood there in jeans and a heavy wool pullover and snow boots that came up to her knees. She wore her hair down under a knit cap which framed her face. John was surprised to realize she wasn’t as plain as he’d always thought. With her hair down, you could see her eyes better. She had pretty eyes.
“Morning,” she said and moved past John into the house. “Is Gilly up yet?”
The plan was for Dr. Lynch and John to escort Gilly to London. What John had yet to mention to Gilly was that John and Dr. Lynch would then travel on to Dover before taking the ferry to Bruges and on to Brussels. There Dr. Lynch would work on the honey sample to attempt to replicate Dr. Heaton’s cure. John hated k
eeping secrets from Gilly but even he could see she was fragile right now.
After Dr. Lynch left last night, John tried to make himself believe he could trust her. He tried to convince himself that telling her had been the right thing to do. After all, if he couldn’t trust Dr. Lynch, they were all screwed.
Gilly came downstairs carrying two valises and went immediately to the teakettle. It was still hot and she poured water into a clean mug. John and Dr. Lynch glanced at each other.
“Morning, Gilly,” John said.
“Morning,” Gilly said, almost sullenly.
“Ready for our trip today?” Dr. Lynch asked. Gilly didn’t answer. John went to pick up her two bags and carried them to the front door where he’d already set his backpack.
“Probably have time for a cup of tea,” John said to Dr. Lynch. She nodded and set her own bag down.
Was it just sadness at having to leave? Then why did the air feel like it was jumpy and tense? Why did it feel like there was something not so much sad as wrong among the three of them? Confused and insecure, John went to fetch two more clean tea mugs.
****
Daniel picked up his cell phone and tapped in O’Reilly’s number. He didn’t have a whole lot of hope for a pleasant conversation but he did have an alternate way of handling things depending on O’Reilly’s reaction.
“This is Shane Sullivan. Mr. O’Reilly is away from his desk.”
“You are answering Mr. O’Reilly’s private mobile now?” He heard voices on the end of the line and O’Reilly’s unmistakable growl come onto the phone.
“Heaton?”
“Afraid you’ll drop your mobile in the loo, Liam?” Daniel said, biting off every word. “Most people carry their mobiles with them. Hence the name.” The stupid Mick had no idea about the concept of a clandestine operation.
“Why are you calling? Is it the cure?”
“I’m afraid it is. It appears my brother found something after all. Knock me over with a feather.”
There was a pause on the line. “Are ye sure?”
“Yes, Liam. My source is in a unique position to know. She…he assures me it is a cure. It has to do with some kind of homeopathic approach.”
“Who has it now?”
“That, at any rate, appears to be relatively contained. Only three people besides you and myself know the cure exists.”
“And those other three people? Because nobody must know of this, Heaton.”
“I am aware of that, Liam. I’m taking care of it on my end.”
“I’m coming to London.”
Daniel stared at his mobile phone. Did the lout really just hung up on me?
He tossed his phone down on his cluttered desk before turning and touching a button on his landline. “Get me Homeland Security Terrorist Division. Immediately. This is a Code Red situation.”
*****
All John could think of was that Dr. Heaton had been so looking forward to making this trip with them. He’d talked about how he was going to take John to the Natural History Museum and the British Museum. As John watched the snowy pastures of the Cotwolds fly by the window from his train compartment, he was stuck by a keen longing to see his friend again. Gilly was still tense and brittle and John had begun to worry it might be the result of the drugs she’d gotten from her family doctor. He’d never seen her so jumpy and he wasn’t sure sadness and tears weren’t better.
Dr. Lynch, on the other hand, was oblivious to any tension in the train compartment. She was reading a science magazine and never looked up once, not to glance out the window or to make eye contact with Gilly or John. It occurred to John that ever since he’d told her about the moonflower honey, she had changed. She wasn’t as tense or as flat. And while she’d probably never be friendly, she was no longer giving off cold, misanthropic vibes either.
It didn’t do any good to second guess himself about whether he should or shouldn’t have told her. It was done. They’d spend the afternoon in London with Gilly before taking the train to the coast. A small part of John was aware that if Dr. Lynch wanted to be shed of him for whatever reason—this afternoon would be the best time to do it.
“You excited about seeing London for the first time?” Gilly asked, her eyes glassy, her cheeks flushed.
“Sure,” John said. “Wish my mom could see it too, is all.” And your dad.
“Did you talk to Geordie about whether you can stay with him?”
Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that Dr. Lynch had torn her eyes off her magazine long enough to watch him for his response.
“I did. He’s fine with it. I’ll stay there until they open up the Irish borders again.”
“That could take years,” Gilly said. “Or never. God knows how long it’ll be for someone else to find a cure.”
Now he could definitely tell Lynch was watching them. He tried to keep his face impassive when he answered.
“I’ll just hope for the best,” he said.
The trip was only an hour long and pretty soon John saw the skyline of the city appear before him. Lynch had told him that London was largely unaffected by the EMP four years ago. He could expect the city to be nearly fully operational with people on the streets with cell phones, fast food restaurants on every corner, and whatever else was normal in a typical twenty-first century capital city. Though the effort to rebuild the infrastructure in outlying areas had mildly sapped London’s resources, London would still be the first functioning modern city John had seen since he was nine years old.
Lynch stood up and looked out the window as the train approached the London Waterloo Rail station platform. “We can get the tube from here,” she remarked rolling up her magazine and stuffing it into her backpack. “Are we dropping you off at your uncle’s flat?” she asked Gilly. “Or his office?”
“Oh, his flat, I think,” Gilly said pleasantly, smiling for the first time all morning. Maybe Gilly was the kind of person who doesn’t deal well with transition, John thought. He was a little surprised at how cavalier she seemed to be about parting from him. They hadn’t even discussed how often they’d take the train back and forth to visit each other.
Dr. Lynch and John both shouldered their backpacks and John grabbed up one of Gilly’s suitcases while she took the other and they all disembarked. The platform looked old fashioned to John with large pavers and yellow limestone stonework on the walls with ornate rounded archways over the doors. He could almost imagine British troops going off to war at this station as he assumed they must have during World War II.
They walked toward the terminal and the station began to morph into a modern transportation hub before his eyes with dramatic soaring skylights that spanned the full ceiling like a cathedral of light. Even so, the pillars that held up the massive ceiling looked as decorative as they were functional. He glanced at Gilly. It wasn’t terribly crowded but in the spacey mood she was in it wasn’t impossible to think she might get separated from them.
“You okay?” he said. She smiled and nodded. It was then that he knew what the difference was. Gilly loved to talk and she’d spoken very little since the day started.
Definitely not normal. But was anything normal about today?
The crowd pushed them toward the inside of the station which looked to John like any major transportation center. His first sighting of a burger joint was nearly his undoing. He and his mom had brought back a small truckload of soft drinks to the compound last year—and then never heard the end of it from Mike—but it had been a long time since John had enjoyed a burger with fries and a shake. A quick glance at Gilly answered that question for him. She was totally focused on getting out of the station and getting to her uncle’s—not stopping for a Happy Meal.
With one last look at the fast food restaurant, John told himself he and Dr. Lynch would stop in on their way back when they got their tickets for Dover. He could just see Lynch’s dark green plaid jacket ahead of him with her orange backpack. In front of her he saw daylight from the station’s
main entrance but he knew Lynch was leading them to the departure platform of the Jubilee line tube station. John would have loved to have stepped outside for a moment just to see the city but he’d have his chance when they finally got to Knightsbridge.
Once they were settled in their seats on the underground train they rode two stops before getting off at Green Park station and changing to the Piccadilly line. It had already taken them an hour since they first pulled into London at Waterloo but John’s excitement and interest in everything he saw kept him wide-eyed and enthralled. Gilly slipped her hand into his when they switched trains in Green Park and they sat closely together, not speaking and not needing to, until they arrived at Knightsbridge.
“You know where your uncle’s flat is?” Dr. Lynch asked Gilly.
“Walking distance,” Gilly said cheerfully. “Just around the corner.”
All of them were past ready to end this portion of the journey. John was hungry and cursed himself for not eating a bigger breakfast when he had the chance. He thought of the large jar of honey he had in his backpack and smiled to think even for a moment about eating a fingerful.
Guess I can starve a little for science, he thought. It’ll be my contribution.
The tube station entrance on Sloane Street was packed with commuters and, because the station was so near Harrods, with shoppers too. That and the fact that it was pouring down rain kept the entrance congested with people.
“If you don’t want to get wet,” Gilly said to Dr. Lynch, “we can grab some brollies across the street there.”
John saw a tourist shop with umbrellas sporting gigantic union jacks on them.
“I don’t care,” Dr. Lynch said. “I won’t melt.” She pushed out of the opening past the scrum of people and then stopped. John ran into her but instead of moving out of the way, Lynch turned around and grabbed his arm.
“Run!” she said, her face a mask of fear.
“What?” John tried to look around her.
Irish End Games, Books 4-5-6 Page 46