“Yeah,” Dillard added. “I know I signed on to keep you guys safe and off the grid, but I don’t know how long I can reliably do that without someone like Ashby finding us.”
Kat saw the disappointment in Kevin’s eyes and knew it was because he had been counting on being with her after the regression. She reached over and put her hand over his. “Hold on, dear,” she said softly. “You haven’t heard the best part.”
Burton said, “Our plans are still to take the formula and regress and go on to our own separate new lives . . . or on to our own together new lives,” he amended, glancing at Sheila with a smile. “Professor Stone—Jordan—has graciously consented to form a new group of scientists to carry on our research under his now expert guidance.”
“And with my share of a hundred million dollars, I should be able to afford to do it in style.”
Kat added, “And believe it or not, Burton and I have also agreed to kick in twenty-five million dollars of our shares to help him along.”
“Well, you’re not going to donate a quarter of your shares unless I can do the same!” Sheila stated forcefully.
“And mine, too!” Kevin said with the same vehemence.
“Oh hell,” Dillard said. “I can kick in a quarter of my fee, too, if it will help.”
Suddenly, without thinking about it, each of the six reached out and grabbed the hand of the person on each side of them so that they were all holding hands around the table. Stone laughed and said in a mock-serious voice, “One for all!”
The others all echoed, “And all for one!”
Angus barked, jumped up on Stone’s lap, put his paws on their outstretched arms, and barked loudly, to show he was one of them, too.
* * *
Later, after the breakfast dishes had all been done, the group retired to the patio furniture around the backyard pool and were sitting and talking when Kevin’s phone rang.
He answered it and talked in a low voice for a few minutes, nodding his head occasionally before he hung up.
When the group looked at him expectantly, he said, “That was my uncle Tom. He and Ashby are flying to Ashby’s Maine cottage tonight and want us to arrange to get the formula to them there as soon as possible, before the FBI can trace their movements and set up surveillance on them there.”
“What do you think?” Dillard asked. “Are we ready?”
Kevin nodded. “I was just about to tell you that the accounts are all set up and ready to go. I’ve got the paperwork for each of you in my room. As it is set up, I can give Ashby one account number in the Cayman Islands into which he can deposit any combination of cash, jewels, precious metals, stock, or just about anything else of value as long as it adds up to five hundred million dollars. Once that is done, we can ship him the formula by overnight FedEx.”
“Tell me again what happens to the money Ashby deposits,” Dillard said. “A man like Ashby will have extensive international contacts, and I want to make sure that he won’t be able to use them to trace your new assets.”
Kevin explained, “The bank manager has instructions to split the money into five equal parts and immediately divert it to five different accounts, some in the Antilles, some in Lichtenstein, and some in the Canary Islands. Each of those account managers have the same orders to ship to different accounts, and so on. This will go on for about three or four transfers, at which time each of you will have the final account information so that when your money hits your final account, you can have it transferred to as many other accounts as you wish, as long as you leave enough money in your main debit card account to cover the expenses of the anonymizer bank account.”
“Wow, that’s complicated,” Burton said.
“Actually, it is, but not to us. The anonymizer bank account does all of the work without knowing any of our names, only the numbers on our debit cards, at least until it hits the last account. All we have to do is make one phone call to make the final transfer and we’re done. And I’ve given each of you a list of banks across the world that do not under any circumstances divulge account holders’ information to anyone, including to the U.S. of A.”
Kat flopped back in her chair. “That is a great relief, Kevin. So, as soon as we have our money and have shipped the formula to Ashby, we can take our shots and disappear forever?”
He spread his arms and smiled. “You got it, Kat. And then there will be nothing stopping us from starting our own new lives and new adventures.”
Stone laughed at the relief on everyone’s faces. “I almost envy you all,” he said.
“Not too late to get someone else to work on refining the formula and starting a new life of your own without any responsibilities,” Kat said.
He shook his head. “I said almost, dear Miss Kat. I am looking forward to doing something that would make my wife and daughters proud of their old man.”
“How about you, Jack?” Kat asked, looking fondly at her uncle. “After all you’ve done for us, you deserve a shot at youth again, too.”
He shook his head. “No, Kat, I think not. Besides, I believe I’ll hang around with the Professor here and make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble while he’s fixing the formula. He’ll need someone he can trust to watch his back until we’re certain Ashby hasn’t tracked him down.”
CHAPTER 40
Ashby’s plane landed at the Portland International Airport, it being the closest to his cabin that could handle a jet the size of his.
A fully equipped ambulance was waiting near the private jet terminal, and as soon as the jet stopped moving it pulled right up to the landing stairs.
Four tough-looking men, part of Ashby’s huge security team, assisted Alexander in moving his stretcher down the steps and into the ambulance. Alexander made sure the IV fluids and the oxygen tube didn’t get disconnected in the move.
Once Ashby and Alexander were in the ambulance, a black Suburban pulled up, and the security team all climbed inside. The SUV pulled out and the ambulance followed closely behind.
The drive to Ashby’s cabin in North Waterford, Maine, took a little over an hour, even though it was only thirty-seven miles away. The Maine roads were not known for their speed of transport.
Finally, the SUV and the ambulance pulled off a small road onto a dirt road leading to the cabin. One of the security men was let out and stationed himself at the beginning of the dirt road, which ran for almost two hundred yards winding through a dense hardwood and pine forest.
Finally, at the end of the road sat a beautiful log cabin perched just thirty yards from a picturesque lake surrounded by rolling hills and dense forest. Ashby’s house was the only one on the lake, since he owned all of the land for several hundred acres around it.
Four more men came out of the house and surrounded the ambulance, automatic machine pistols in their hands as they watched for anyone unknown in the vicinity.
Matt Dodson, Ashby’s head of security, stepped over to the rear of the ambulance and was waiting when Alexander and the ambulance attendants wheeled him out on his stretcher.
Dodson dipped his head, “Good evening, Mr. Ashby. We’ve secured the cabin and the surrounding property as you requested, and as Dr. Alexander requested, I’ve arranged your bed to be in the living room, where you can look out the wall of windows at the lake and the surrounding forest.”
Alexander put his hand on Ashby’s shoulder. “I figured since we are up here in such a beautiful setting, it would be a waste if you couldn’t enjoy the view.”
Ashby put his good hand over Alexander’s. “Thank you, Tom. That was very thoughtful.”
“Speaking of the view,” Dodson said, “there is a family of loons nesting on the shore of the lake, and they are great fun to watch, with the chicks following the mom and dad everywhere they go.”
Ashby laughed. “I didn’t know you were a bird-watcher, Matt.”
The large, tough-looking man shrugged and blushed slightly. “When I have the time, which isn’t often,” he said.
A
couple of hours later, the move-in was complete. Ashby was situated in his bed looking out of the windows while Dodson’s men patrolled the property on a regular basis.
“Do we get cell service out here?” Alexander asked, pulling out his burner phone.
“Not ordinarily, but I had a cell-signal enhancer installed, so now we get pretty good service,” Ashby answered.
“I’m thinking of checking with Kevin to see whether the money is in the account he provided yet.”
Ashby wagged his head. “I doubt it, Tom. The accountant said to do it properly and not raise any flags with the government, it would take at least a couple of days. The transfer should be complete by tomorrow.”
“That means we should be getting our serum by the day after tomorrow,” Alexander said.
“If your nephew keeps his word.”
“Kevin will keep his word, John. Of that I am completely confident.” He stared hard at Ashby. “And now I can only hope you keep yours.”
Ashby chuckled. “Don’t tell me you don’t trust your old friend, Tom.”
Alexander gave a sigh. “I wonder how many men are in the cemetery who made the mistake of trusting you, John.”
Now Ashby laughed out loud. “More than a few, Tom, more than a few.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Tom. I told you Kevin would be safe.”
“From your lips to God’s ears,” Alexander replied and moved to sit and stare out at the loons out by the lake.
* * *
As the group met as usual around the breakfast table, Kevin said, “Well, the money is starting to flow into our main account, so I think it is time for us to all take our own injections and get the process moving.”
“You don’t want to wait until it is all there?” Kat asked.
Kevin shook his head. “No, because if it continues at this pace, it’ll take at least another day, possibly two. By then, we will all be well on our way through the process, and when we send the formula to Ashby, we can then take off on our new journeys to our new lives and never look back.”
“I think Kevin is right,” Dillard said. “The sooner you all have changed your appearance and gotten your new IDs completed, the better I will feel about the entire process.”
Sheila and Burton looked at each other, smiled, and took each other’s hands. Then Sheila looked over at Stone. “Jordan, are you sure you can handle being nursemaid to all of us at one time?”
He nodded. “As you know, Dr. Sheila, I have studied up on all of the medical procedures that I might be required to undertake, from advanced CPR to IV fluids to medications for high temperatures, so I do believe I am as ready as I will ever be.”
“And he’ll have me to help him, Sheila. I’ve had extensive field experience with battlefield injuries and most forms of medical recuperation, so we should be okay,” Dillard added.
“Then let’s do it,” Kat said, taking Kevin’s hand and getting up from the table.
For convenience, they’d moved two beds into one of the bedrooms so the couples could both be watched at the same time as they went through the regression.
When they lay down on the bed, Angus jumped up, situated himself between Kevin and Kat, and looked from one to the other with his large brown eyes showing his concern for their welfare.
They each put a hand on his flank to reassure him, then they clasped hands as Stone gave them their IV injection of the Phoenix Formula.
Minutes later, he did the same to Sheila and Burton.
Kevin raised his head, looked over at the other bed, and gave a mock salute. “See ya on the other side, guys.”
They both grinned and said, “See ya soon, Kev.”
* * *
Fowler was getting disgusted that the BOLO he’d put out on Jackson Dillard had produced no results. It was if the man had gone to ground and not come up. No one reported having seen him, and the rental car companies had all said no one of his description had rented any cars in Houston in the past two weeks.
The only thing left for him to do was to go to the FBO at the George Bush International Airport, seek out Dillard’s plane, and search it to see if there was any clue on board that would point to where he was or where the scientists he was helping were staying.
At the main desk of the fixed base operation terminal, he showed his credentials and said, “I’d like to see the hangar where Jackson Dillard has his plane stored.”
The man looked over his half glasses and asked, “You have a warrant?”
“I’m not going to search the plane, I just want to see it,” Fowler said irritably.
The man shrugged. “Don’t matter, Mr. Fowler. I can’t give you any information at all about our clients without you showing me a warrant.”
“It’s Special Agent Fowler, you dolt!” Fowler snapped.
The man grinned as if he was enjoying getting under Fowler’s skin. “Sorry, Special Agent, no warrant, no lookie.”
Fowler turned on his heel and stormed out of the office, wishing this was an active investigation so he could run the asshole in for obstruction of justice.
He stood on the curb outside the FBO office and glanced around. There were only four hangars nearby, and he fixed their locations in his mind. He’d come back later when the asshole was off work and just go straight to the hangars and search until he found Dillard’s plane—and then he’d do whatever the hell he wanted with it.
Fowler went home to his apartment and took a nap until midnight, when he got up and dressed in dark gray pants and a long-sleeved dark gray shirt. The FBI had once done research on what colors best concealed an agent working in the dark or at night. Surprisingly, gray was much less visible than dark black, especially if the agent was on the move.
It only took Fowler two tries to find the hangar that held Dillard’s plane. He checked the tail number against the one he’d written in his notebook. Yep, there it was.
He glanced around and saw no one lurking in the hangar, so he went right up to the stairs and tried the door to the plane. Locked. Well, somehow he knew it wasn’t going to be that easy—he wasn’t that lucky.
Pulling out his lock pick set, he quickly picked the lock on the door and entered the plane.
After an hour spent searching, he’d found nothing to be of any help to him, except one thing: At the rear of the plane was a small closet, just big enough for one man to hide in. If he could just figure out some way to get advance notice of when Dillard was going to be taking off, he could secret himself in the closet and jump out once they were airborne—Dillard wouldn’t be able to resist since he’d be piloting the aircraft.
He sat in one of the passenger seats and thought about it for ten minutes. Finally, he realized that the plane would have to be fueled and serviced prior to taking off. If he could find the man in charge of fueling the airplanes in the FBO, he could flash his FBI creds and cross his palm with some money to see if he would give Fowler a call when he was ordered to fuel this plane. If worse came to worst, he could always claim Dillard was working for some terrorists and play upon the man’s patriotism to get him to cooperate.
Early the next morning, Fowler snuck onto the FBO tarmac and made his way to the garage area. Luckily there was only one man working there. It didn’t take long for Fowler to enlist his help in a forewarning of when Dillard was going to take off.
As Fowler drove back into Houston on the freeway from the airport, he counted himself lucky that the garage man was a patriot—he’d only charged Fowler twenty bucks once he’d heard the plane might be transporting terrorists.
* * *
While Kevin and the others were undergoing their transformation, Dillard kept a close watch on the overseas bank account by using the computer.
Kevin had been slightly off on his prediction that it would take a little over two days for the money to be all transferred; in fact, it took three full days before the bank balance reached five hundred million dollars.
As per Kevin’s
previous instructions to the anonymizer account manager, the minute the account balance hit five hundred million dollars, the money disappeared.
At first, Dillard was frightened that Ashby had changed his mind and removed the money himself, but then he remembered Kevin stating that the money would be moved several times before coming to rest in separate accounts for each member of the group.
On the morning of the third day after the injection, Stone appeared in Dillard’s bedroom doorway. “Jackson, you must come immediately,” he said.
Dillard bounded out of bed and rushed after Stone, not bothering to change out of his pajamas. He was amazed when he entered the patients’ bedroom to find each one of them sitting propped up in bed devouring huge helpings of bacon, eggs, home-style fries, and even a couple of plate-sized pancakes each.
“Hello, Jackson,” a young lady said, a tentative smile on her face.
“Kat?” he said, disbelief in his voice. The young woman in the bed appeared to be no more than twenty years old at the most.
“Howdy, Jack,” said the young man in the bed next to Kat. Kevin looked to be seventeen or eighteen years old—almost like a younger Ryan Gosling.
“Well, what do you think, Jackson, old man?” said Burton from the far bed. He looked about twenty-five, as did his wife, Sheila, sitting next to him.
“Holy smoke!” Jackson declared, hurrying in to shake Kevin’s hand, give Kat and Sheila a hug, and then to shake Burton’s hand. “I guess I knew intellectually this was going to happen, but I swear I never really thought about the impact of seeing if for myself with my own eyes. It’s a bloody miracle!”
“So,” Kat said impishly, “you think we’ll be able to fool Ashby and whomever he sends looking for us?”
“Heck-fire, Kat, I do believe you could fool your own mother.”
He moved closer to the bed and stared at her. “If I look closely, I can see the old Kat in your eyes and some of your expressions, but that’s ’cause I know it’s you. No one else would ever recognize any of you in a million years.”
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