Hybrid (Brier Hospital Series Book 7)

by Lawrence Gold

  Denise paled. Her eyes filled with tears. “It’s no joking matter, Gabe. Anything out of the ordinary freaks me out. I don’t know what we’re doing, do you?”

  Gabe smiled. “If this is just a normal mother’s concern…okay. If it's more than that, maybe it's time for you to visit Lola for an analytic checkup.”

  “I see you’re finally a believer.” She paused. “If it gets worse, I’ll give her a shout.”

  Gabe embraced his wife. “Even if we were sure about Zack’s gifts, and we’re not, it’s just too early to plan for anything. He’s a happy baby with loving parents. If he really turns out to be gifted, we’ll just have to deal with it.”

  By his fifth month, Zack was functioning well beyond the twelve-month level. He was speaking in full sentences, walking and running, and eating at the table with Denise and Gabe.

  Denise dragged Gabe to Zack’s 12-month evaluation.

  After his examination, Michael Butler, their pediatrician studied Zack’s chart. “You clearly have a gifted child, but it’s way too soon for us to analyze his strengths and weaknesses.”

  “He’s strong in all areas,” Gabe said.

  Butler stared at Gabe for a moment. “This is what I’m recommending for now; keep a detailed record of Zack’s development, his interests, and try to find other children at the same stage of development, regardless of age.”

  “You’re kidding,” Denise said.

  “I can only recommend what’s best for Zack. That’s the easy part. We don’t want Zack to become bored with kids who can’t keep up with him or with tasks below his capabilities.”

  “Zack doesn’t get bored,” Denise said. “He’s intrigued by everything.”

  A year later, Denise called Mike Butler for an examination. “Have you kept a record of Zack’s accomplishments?”

  “Of course.”

  “Bring it with you when you come.”

  Denise laughed. “I’ll bring it over in advance so you have a chance to review everything.”

  After Zack’s three-year-old evaluation, Denise and Gabe sat in Mike’s office. He looked at them, and then at Zack. “Is it okay to talk frankly in front of Zack?”

  Zack ran both hands over his red hair. “It’s perfectly fine, Doctor. We have no secrets in this family.”

  Michael was dumbfounded. “Which of you is the ventriloquist? I can’t believe what just came out of Zack’s mouth.”

  “Believe it,” Denise said. “Do you think we should have Zack tested?”

  “From what I saw in his records, I wouldn’t know where to start. His language usage, his reading, and his ability to absorb and remember everything tells us all we need to know.” He turned to Zack. “You’re one spectacular kid, but I do need a few minutes alone with your parents.”

  Zack stood and looked at Mike’s bookshelf. “Do you mind if I borrow a book to read while I’m waiting?”

  “Not at all. Go ahead.”

  Zack walked up to the shelf, scanned the books, and pointed to one well out of his reach. “That one, please.”

  Mike reached up and brought down the Scientific American: Science Desk Reference. He smiled. “A little light reading, Zack?”

  Zack laughed. “Good one, Doctor. I’ll be in the waiting room.”

  After Zack left, Mike turned to Denise and Gabe. “To tell you the truth, this may be out of my league. I’ve worked with gifted children before, but nobody like Zack. Let me call around. I’m sure that the Bay Area has programs for the gifted. I’m more worried about his social skills and his ability to relate to others.”

  “I’m not one of those mothers,” Denise said, “but Zack’s almost saintly.”

  Mike frowned. “Don’t place that onus on him, Denise. Nobody can live up to those expectations.”

  “You’ve got it all wrong,” Gabe said. “Zack’s aware of his abilities. We encourage play dates, but often kids don’t understand him. While you might expect Zack to show frustration, his first instincts are to help the other children. He reads to them, helps them with toys and puzzles, and has not once reacted in anger, even when challenged by other children’s aggression.”

  “One day when we were in the supermarket," Denise said, “Zack was reading the ingredients labels and announcing the cost per unit when a woman came up and said, ‘Why are you pushing him? Can’t you just let him be a child?’”

  Zack had studied the woman, and said, “Thank you for your concern, but this is fun for me.”

  “We’re not pushing him, Mike,” Denise said, “he’s pushing us. We’re a slave to his gift.”

  Gabe studied Mike. “Zack’s a kind, caring, and sensitive boy, and we’ll do whatever it takes to keep him that way.”

  Chapter Seven

  “I’m taking Zack to work with me today,” Gabe said.

  “What’s the occasion?” Denise asked.

  “The Chancellor had issued his edict: This will be ‘take your child to work day.’”

  “Don’t you think that Zack’s a little young?”

  “Chronologically or intellectually?”

  “No, smart ass, emotionally. He’s just five years old and this will take him way out of his comfort zone.”

  When Zack walked into the room, Gabe turned to Denise and said, “Let me introduce you to your son.”

  Zack’s eyes widened. “What’s up? I’m still going to work with you today, right?”

  Denise managed a wan smile. “I just want to know that you’re comfortable going with Daddy today.”

  “Mommy, I’m anxious, willing, and able. I can’t wait.”

  When they arrived at Gabe’s lab at Cal Berkeley, Zack walked around in awe at all the electronic and laboratory equipment. He asked about each device, what it was used for, and how it worked. Zack pointed to one machine with bright lights and LED displays. “What’s this? It's cool.”

  “It's a mass spectrometer, a device for identifying the kinds of particles present in a given substance.”

  “How does it work?”

  Gabe studied Zack carefully. “Stop me if you don’t understand.”

  Zack nodded.

  “The particles we’re analyzing are ionized and beamed through an electromagnetic field.”

  “And,” Zack asked.

  “The manner in which they are deflected tells us their mass and identity.”

  “Can you show me?”

  “Sure. We have samples of known substances that we use to calibrate the device.” Gabe picked up a small vial, opened it, extracted a drop of fluid, and injected it into the machine. In a moment, the digital display read 196.9.

  “Neat,” Zack said.

  “Any idea what it is?”

  “Well, Zack said, “I know the mass of hydrogen is about one. This reading of 196.9 must be something pretty heavy.”

  Gabe shook his head in disbelief. “Any ideas?”

  “The heavy metals include lead, gold, mercury, and uranium.”

  “It's gold,” Gabe said.

  After about an hour exploring the lab, Gabe said, “Have a seat at the table. I have a few things to do, then I’ll take you to lunch. Find something to read, and I’ll be right with you.”

  When Gabe returned twenty minutes later, Zack had a large data book open. He was studying the columns of numbers and shaking his head in dismay.

  “Stimulating reading, eh, Zack?”

  Zack smiled. “It is interesting, but something’s wrong.”

  “What?”

  Zack pointed to the bottom of the page and the summary lines. “This doesn’t make any sense, Daddy. The numbers are all wrong.”

  “Computers don’t lie, Zack.”

  “I know, but people do make mistakes.”

  Gabe called over his chief lab technician. “Have you seen these numbers?”

  “Of course, Doc. I ran them twice just to make sure.”

  Gabe looked from Zack and back to his tech. “Zack thinks that something’s wrong with the data.”

  “The tech sh
ook his head. “A five year old kid doesn’t like the data?”

  “Zack’s not an average kid. Do me a favor and run the numbers again.”

  “It's a complete waste of time.”

  “Just do it.”

  A half hour later, the tech returned with a new summary sheet. He was shaking his head in wonder. “Dammit, Doc, he was right. I don’t know how it happened, but I ran it twice more and Zack’s correct.”

  When Gabe looked over at Zack, he had a broad smile.

  “This is sophisticated data, Zack. How did you know?”

  “I don’t understand a thing about the meaning of the data. I only knew that the numbers didn’t make sense.”

  “How did you know that?” Gabe asked.

  Zack shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t have a clue. I just looked at the numbers and knew that they were wrong.”

  When Gabe and Zack got home after work, Denise asked, “How did it go?”

  Zack hugged Denise’s waist. “Mommy, it was fantastic. I think I know what I’m going to be when I grow up.”

  Denise smiled warmly. “You have plenty of time to make that decision. Why don’t you wash up for dinner.”

  After Zack left, she turned to Gabe. “How did he do?”

  “Just as he said. He had a ball, but we do have a problem.”

  “What?” she responded anxiously.

  Gabe told Denise about Zack’s recognition of the data errors. “Zack’s abilities are far above gifted, they’re savant-like. It's astounding.”

  “He’s certainly not autistic in any way. What do you make of it?”

  “We’d better start thinking outside the box if we’re going to make the best of Zack’s abilities.”

  “Yes,” Denise said, “and protect him at the same time.”

  Chapter Eight

  The phone rang just as Denise and Gabe were sitting down to eat breakfast. Gabe growled, stood, and went to answer it. “If this is another damn telemarketer, I’ll…”

  Gabe listened, and then handed the phone to Denise. “It's Isabella.”

  Denise listened and nodded. “Lo siento mucho. Feel better. No, it's okay; I’ll take Zack with me to work. The clinic has childcare and Zack’s been there before.”

  She hung up the phone. “The sitter’s sick. It's just a cold, but she’s right not wanting to expose us and Zack to her bug.”

  “He’ll be all right at the clinic?”

  “He’ll be fine. Haley does the childcare. She’s Lola and Jacob’s great-granddaughter and she’s almost as compulsive as Jacob.”

  When Denise got to the clinic, she pulled behind the building, and parked next to Lola’s red Honda S-2000. She smiled at the car, visualizing Lola behind the wheel with a police car in pursuit, a not infrequent Berkeley occurrence. Somehow, with her Viennese charm and well-honed grandmotherly facade, she had talked her way out of most tickets.

  Denise took Zack’s hand, and walked him to the brightly decorated daycare room. Haley was playing with two small children. She looked up as they entered the room. When Haley spied Zack, she rushed over, opened her arms, and lifted him to her chest. “Zacariás, como esta?”

  Zack smiled. “Bien, et tu?”

  Haley turned to Denise. “Isabella’s making progress with Zack. If he keeps this up, he’ll be bilingual.”

  Zack turned to Denise. “Why do I need two tongues, Mommy?”

  Denise turned to Haley. “Don’t mind him none. It's his weird sense of humor.”

  Denise was counseling a seventeen-year-old girl when a piercing scream reverberated through the clinic. She rushed out.

  Lola was talking to a pale, frantic Haley.

  “I just stepped out to pee when a man grabbed Zack and ran out the back door. I screamed, but he wouldn’t stop.”

  Lola grabbed Denise by the arm, and then turned to the receptionist. “Dial 911. I’m gonna get that son-of-a bitch.”

  As they ran toward Lola’s car, a brown Ford F-150 truck with two men aboard turned right onto Shattuck Avenue.

  They jumped into Lola’s S-2000. “Put on your belt,” Lola screamed. She started the car and sped down the alleyway. Lola stomped on the accelerator as she entered Shattuck Avenue, forcing an oncoming Mercedes to screech to a halt. The driver glared at Lola and raised his finger in rage.

  Lola bit her lips as she floored it and fishtailed down Shattuck Avenue in pursuit.

  “Easy, Lola,” Denise screamed. “You’ll kill us both.”

  Lola leaned forward, her eyes barely above the steering wheel. “They’re not going to get away with Zack. Not as long as I’m alive.”

  A Berkeley Police cruiser’s siren and flashing lights drew Lola’s attention to her rearview mirror.

  The truck ignored the red light at Bancroft Way and turned right, heading toward Berkeley High School.

  Lola followed at high speed.

  Suddenly the F-150’s stoplights glared as the truck skidded to a halt before a utility truck working on thick overhanging trees. A small dark-skinned man and a taller white man left the truck and ran between two buildings.

  Lola slammed on the brakes behind the truck. The Berkeley PD cruiser screeched to a halt behind the S-2000. Lola stepped out and pointed in the direction that the men escaped. “That way. They ran down the alley.”

  Denise flew out the passenger door and rushed to the truck. When Zack smiled at her from the back seat, her heart melted. She grabbed her son and crushed him to her chest. “My God, Zack. Are you all right?”

  “He hurt my arm pulling me into the truck, but I’m fine. That was some ride—got to do it again soon.”

  Lola hobbled over to Denise and Zack. “Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine. What about you?”

  “I almost pushed my foot through the floorboards—that’s a bit much for this old body.”

  “Did the men say anything,” Denise asked.

  “One said some bad words, and told me to get into the truck.”

  “What words?”

  Zack thought a moment. “He said get the F into the truck and shut up.”

  After about fifteen minutes, the officers returned shaking their heads in disgust. “They got away,” the senior officer said. He turned to Lola. “If I didn’t know your car, Doc, I’d swear a ghost was driving. We never once saw your head.”

  Later, at police headquarters, Denise, Gabe, and Lola entered Detective Shelly Kahn’s office. Zack waited outside with a policewoman. Shelly was in her thirties, but with her long straight hair and innocent look, she could easily pass for a UC coed. Shelly threw her arms around Lola. “You just can’t keep out of trouble, can you, old lady? How’s Jacob.”

  “We’re old, Shelly. Old and feeling older every year.”

  Shelly turned to Denise and Gabe. “You guys lucked out. But for the efforts of our intrepid psychotherapist, this could have been bad—very bad.” She paused. “I don’t think this was a random act or a kidnapping of opportunity. Somebody wanted Zack, and I’m guessing it was for ransom.”

  “That’s happening around here?” Gabe asked.

  Shelly nodded. “Berkeley isn’t Mexico City, but a bad economy brings out the worst in some.”

  “That’s better than if Zack was targeted,” Denise said.

  “After talking with Zack for a moment,” Shelly said, “I can tell that he’s not the usual five-year-old. Could that be an explanation?”

  “Only a perverted mind could find in Zack’s gifts an excuse for kidnapping,” Gabe said.

  Denise stared at Shelly. “You don’t really think…”

  “We take nothing for granted. We’ll work the case, do the forensics, and take it as far as we can.” Shelly paused. “If you can think of anything…”

  On their way home, Denise and Gabe were silent while Zack chattered away. He was still excited by the morning’s events.

  “Go to your room for a while,” Denise said. “I’ll call you when lunch is ready.”

  After Zack went upstairs, Denise paced
the room. Her hands were trembling. “My God, Gabe. Think what might have happened.”

  “I can’t think about it—it drives me nuts.”

  Denise sat at the kitchen table. She leaned forward and sobbed. “We can’t let this happen again—I won’t let it happen again.”

  Jorge Moneo’s private line rang in Emeryville. He picked up the phone. “Yes.”

  “Señor? Lo siento mucho,” Jose said. “Bad luck.”

  “Bullshit,” Jorge shouted. “How did you two manage to screw up a simple abduction?”

  “We had him free and clear, and then we got stopped by a Berkeley tree service truck. We barely made it out of there.”

  “Did you check the route beforehand?” Jorge asked.

  “Of course, Señor. They must have just pulled up.”

  “Right. I’m afraid that you’ll see no more business from me or my associates.”

  “Please, Señor. We’ve been tracking the target for weeks. You’ll need us for another try at the boy.”

  “Estúpido! I’m done. You’re done. The police can write off a single attempted kidnapping as random. Another will suggest that someone’s targeting the boy. We sure as hell can’t have that. I’ll just have to find another way.”

  Chapter Nine

  Zeru had just left her office at Cal when she sensed a presence behind her. She resisted turning around, but once she left the building and walked into the sun, she could resist no longer. He was a husky man wearing a dark suit.

  When he approached, Zeru shuddered and increased her pace.

  “Professor Ibarra,” the man said. “I’m so sorry if I frightened you. May I speak with you?”

  “About what?”

  He pulled out his FBI identification and showed it to Zeru.

  “Ah,” she said, “the infamous Inspector Olsen. How can I help you?”

  Olsen smiled. “He doesn’t miss a trick, does he?”

  “I don’t know whom you’re talking about.”

  “Professor Moneo. I believe you know him well.”