Hybrid (Brier Hospital Series Book 7)

by Lawrence Gold

  Zack shook his head. “If that makes you feel any better…”

  “I’m not sure what you’re trying to say,” Denise said.

  “I know things that I have no reason to know. Like the bike and knowing where the kids were hiding.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You must have some idea.”

  “When Dad said he had a surprise for me, the bike’s image appeared in my head. With my friends in hiding, I just walked around and wound up next to them…I just knew.” He paused. “Do things like that happen to you?”

  “Not as far as I can tell. Random events occur, by definition, randomly. If I’m thinking about your Dad, and he calls, that’s not ESP, that’s chance.”

  “There’s more, Mother,” Zack said.

  “Such as?”

  “All my senses are way beyond what anyone might expect. Haven’t you noticed that while you and Dad are squinting at road signs or addresses, I can read them immediately?”

  “That just your young eyes and our fading ones,” Denise said.

  Zack crossed his arms. “You’re not listening, Mother. They teach psychiatrists to listen, don’t they?”

  “I’m sorry—you’re right. I keep forgetting who you are, Zack.”

  “And, who am I? What planet do I come from?”

  “Now, who’s being melodramatic?”

  “Let me lay it out for you, Mother. My vision, hearing, and my ability to smell things are way above the average. Isn’t that weird?”

  “It’s not weird. It’s simply that nature grants each individual unique abilities. Some are smarter than others, taller, and have exquisite senses. Some, as you know, Zack, can run much faster than others.”

  “I do that, too, Mother.”

  “I predict that there will come a day when you’ll meet someone who’s better than you in all these areas, and then, you’ll be asking, ‘What’s wrong with me, Mother?’”

  Zack smiled. “Maybe you’re right, Mother, but I don’t think so.”

  “You know the word, hubris? It means pride, Zack, but in reality it exaggerated pride.”

  “You still don’t get it, Mother.”

  “Let me get a deck of cards. Let’s see how good you really are.”

  Zack reddened in anger. “I don’t do tricks, Mother. You think I’m some kind of trained monkey? I’m sorry for wasting your time,” he said, as he stood and rushed from the room.

  Later that evening, Denise sat with Gabe discussing this new turn of events. “You may have overreacted,” he said.

  “I don’t think so. He had questions, and I tried to answer them. He was upset, and I just made things worse.”

  “Maybe we should seek professional help,” Gabe wondered out loud.

  “We do need help, but not the sort that will confirm Zack’s worst fears—that there is something different about him.”

  Gabe took Denise’s hand. “But, he is different, and maybe it's about time we came to grip with that reality. Hopefully, it will help us to help him.”

  “He’s still a kid, and the stigma of seeing a shrink—it might be too much for him.”

  “Don’t underestimate Zack,” Gabe said. “I think he might relish the opportunity to have his abilities assessed.”

  To their surprise, Zack was enthusiastic about an intellectual and a psychiatric assessment. “Let’s see what makes me tick,” he said.

  After talking with teachers, social workers, Zack’s pediatrician, and Lola, Denise decided to have Zack evaluated by psychologists and educators at the Summit Center in Contra Costa County.

  Denise and Zack traveled to the Walnut Creek offices of the Summit Center. During the evaluation period, once a week for four hours, they got no feedback from the center or from Zack. Finally, after the sixth week, Denise received a phone call from Patricia Henry, the program director. They set up a three-hour appointment for Denise and Gabe to meet with the program staff.

  “Three hours?” Gabe asked. “What can they tell us in three hours that they can’t tell in one?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Denise and Gabe drove in silence to Walnut Creek, and exited onto Ygnacio Valley Road. After crossing Civic Drive, they pulled into the parking lot, entered the modern building, and took the elevator to the third floor.

  When they entered the office, the sign above the receptionist read, Summit Center. She smiled and said, “So glad to see you again, Mrs.…, I mean Doctor Berg. She turned to Gabe and offered her hand. Mr. Berg, how nice to meet you.”

  “It's Doctor Berg,” Denise said. “The Ph.D. type. Gabe’s a molecular biologist.”

  “Well,” said the receptionist, “that explains a lot about your remarkable son.”

  Denise and Gabe gazed at each other questioningly.

  The receptionist stood, walked from behind her desk, and said, “Follow me. They’re waiting for you in the conference room.”

  When they entered, Patricia Henry, the program director rose from the head of the table, and shook their hands. She pointed to a bearded man in his 60s. “You know Rufus Kent, don’t you?”

  Denise smiled and offered her hand. “Rufus, I’m so glad to see you again.”

  “Likewise,” Rufus said.

  Denise turned to Gabe. “Rufus taught me much of what I know about child development when he was teaching at UC Berkeley.”

  “You’re too kind,” Rufus said.

  “We’re here today to talk about your son, Zack,” Patricia said. “We’ve tested him extensively over the last five weeks or so, and he’s quite remarkable.”

  “That much we know,” Gabe said.

  Patricia placed a thick binder on the table. “Before we get into the details of Zack’s evaluation, I must express a personal opinion on your son.” She paused. “Despite his extraordinary talents, of which there are many, Zack is perhaps the most delightful child that we have ever had the privilege to evaluate. We’ve all come to love him.”

  Rufus looked up from his notes. “I agree, and that places particular pressure on us and the program. We want to do what’s best for him, and that perhaps compromises our objectivity.”

  Denise smiled. “I…we, don’t feel threatened by people who both recognize Zack’s talent, and love him as well. Moreover, it's great that we all have Zack’s best interests at heart.”

  Patricia opened her binder. “Let me tell you, in summary form, what we’ve been doing with Zack. Our assessments have included testing in many areas including, intelligence, achievement, psycho-educational, neuropsychological, as well as emotional, social, and behavioral.”

  Over the next two hours, Patricia went over the details of Zack’s evaluation.

  “What did Zack’s psychological evaluation reveal,” Denise asked.

  “Our psychologists found him remarkably well-adjusted. We do offer psychotherapy here, but they said that could only make things worse. That’s one worry off your mind.”

  “We know that he’s super smart,” Gabe said, “but what’s his IQ?”

  Patricia stared at Rufus, and nodded.

  Rufus glanced at his own notes, and then turned to Denise and Gabe. “We’re not sure.”

  “Not sure?” Gabe said. ‘What do you mean that you’re not sure?”

  “You’re familiar with the Bell Curve…” Rufus began.

  Denise frowned. “Please, Rufus don’t talk down to us. You know me, and Gabe’s a molecular biologist. We know the Bell Curve.”

  “I’m sorry,” Rufus said. “We deal with all types of parents, and I don’t want to talk above anyone’s head.”

  Gabe frowned. “Go ahead. Live dangerously.”

  “Gabe…” Denise said.

  “I’m sorry,” Gabe said. “I’m not a patient man.”

  Rufus nodded. “Except at the extremes of the curve, our assessments are completely reliable, but at the low and extremely high ends, we’re not so sure.”

  “We expected that Zack would score well,” Denise said,
“but how well did he do?”

  Rufus shuffled through his notes. “We consider180 and above as profoundly gifted, but Zack did even better. We’re not sure how much better, but for the sake of classification we designate IQ scores above 200 as immeasurable genius.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jorge was sitting with Zeru reviewing data sheets when the intercom buzzed. Jorge picked up the phone, listened, shook his head, and turned to Zeru. “It's the FBI’s Inspector Olsen.”

  Zeru paled. “What now?”

  “I don’t know,” Jorge said. He lifted the phone and said, “Show him in.”

  Olsen entered the room and sat in the chair across for Jorge’s desk. “I’d like a few words with you, Professor Moneo…that’s if it's okay with you?”

  “You do have a way of showing up, Inspector.”

  “Just doing my duty, Professor.”

  “Might I suggest that you call before coming,” Jorge asked.

  “Of course, you may suggest anything.”

  Olsen turned to Zeru. “It's good to see you again, Doctor.”

  “Okay,” Jorge said, “what is it this time?”

  “We notice that you’ve been funneling a great deal of money into the Denisovan School in Basque Country.”

  “Of course. That’s certainly not news to you inspector. I created that school and continue to support it when I can.”

  Olsen extracted a folder from his attaché case and opened it. You’ve sent them quite a sum of money. Do you mind if I asked the source of those funds?”

  “In fact I do mind, Inspector. You’re on another fishing expedition. Justify your need for the information and come back with a warrant. That’s how the United States protects its citizens.”

  “You’re not a citizen, professor, and unless you cooperate, it unlikely that you’ll become one.”

  “Do you want to see my green card, Inspector? You’ll be pleased to hear that I’ve been here long enough to apply for naturalization.”

  Olsen frowned. “You’ll make one hell of a citizen.”

  “Thank you, Inspector.”

  “Don’t make things difficult for yourself, Professor. I can make things problematic for you.” He paused. “And then we have the issue of extraditing you to Spain. I’m sure they’ll be pleased to have you back.”

  “Excuse me, Inspector,” Zeru said, “but has Professor Moneo been convicted of a crime in Spanish courts?”

  “Not as we know at this time.”

  “You understand that even if I were eligible for extradition,” Jorge said, “the United States would never agree, as my conflict with Spain, whatever else it is, is political. The US won’t extradite someone given political asylum.”

  “Don’t be so glib, Professor. Things change both here and in Spain. Just be a good boy and cooperate with us. You may find it rewarding.”

  “How rewarding?” Jorge said smiling.

  “You’re some piece of work, Moneo.”

  “No,” Jorge said. “I’m a patriot…I’m sure that you know what it feels like to be a patriot for your own country.”

  “Patriot, my ass,” Olsen growled. “Members and supporters of the ETA are nothing but terrorists. You won’t find much support for those activities here.”

  “The ETA has disavowed terrorism, Inspector,” Zeru said.

  Olsen managed a mirthless smile. “Once a terrorist…”

  Jorge turned to Zeru. “Why don’t you show Inspector Olsen to the door. I’m sure he must have better things to do with his time.”

  After Olsen left, Zeru turned to Jorge. “He’s not going to stop.”

  “That’s what makes him a good cop. I’d hire him in a flash.”

  “You’re not worried?”

  “If we had something to hide, Olsen would pose a threat, but since we’re on a virtuous path, I’m not concerned.”

  “Still…,” Zeru said.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  (2005)

  Gabe helped Denise with her coat. She turned to Rachel, their babysitter. “We’ll be at Back to School Night at Piedmont Elementary. I have my iPhone if you need me.”

  Gabe turned to Zack. “We’ll be about two hours. Will you be okay?”

  Zack smiled. “Just fine. I’m teaching Rachel to play chess.”

  “Take it easy on her,” Denise said.

  “Always do.”

  After they walked through Zack’s fifth-grade room checking the walls and students’ work, the teacher, Mrs. Andria McCullough, made a short speech before meeting each parent individually.

  “I don’t think I’ve had a more gifted child than Zack,” Andria said.

  Denise smiled. “Yes, he’s special.”

  Andria shook her head. “My only problem is keeping Zack challenged. What I can provide here at school isn’t enough for him. He clearly needs more.”

  “We understand,” Gabe said. “We’ve been dealing with his gifts for years, and it’s our desire to keep Zack mainstreamed as long as possible. With the help of the Summit Center program for the gifted, he’s been getting additional enrichment.”

  “I understand perfectly,” Andria said. “Zack’s much more than intelligent; he’s the kindest and most generous child I’ve ever had.” She paused. “Obviously I’m not in this profession for the big bucks, but kids like Zack make it all worthwhile. By the way, the other kids love Zack, too. He has incredible patience and spends his extra time helping the children with their work.”

  As they stood to leave, Andria said, “If you have a moment, Mr. Jackson, our PE teacher, would like a moment with you. Just turn to the right and walk to the gym.”

  “What is this about?” Denise asked.

  “Mr. Jackson will explain.”

  When they pushed open the gym’s swinging doors, two middle-aged men were sitting on the collapsible bleacher talking. The taller and more athletic one walked up to them. “I’m George Jackson. You must be the Bergs.”

  They shook hands.

  George turned to the other man. “This is Howie Benson; he's from East Bay Gymnastics. You must have heard about EBG; they've had several program graduates in the Olympics.”

  Denise grasped Gabe’s hand tightly, turned to him and then back to George. “What’s this all about and what does Zack have to do with EBG?”

  George managed a pained smile. “I hope that this doesn’t upset you, but whenever I see a child with special gymnastics promise, I pass that on to Howie. Zack may have the potential to be an Olympian.”

  Denise reddened. “You’ve got a lot of nerve involving yourself in my child’s life without first consulting us. What in hell’s the matter with you?”

  Gabe grasped Denise’s arm, but she pulled it away violently.

  George paled. “I’m so sorry. I only thought…”

  “Who gave you the right to think anything about my boy?”

  “Wait a minute,” Gabe said. “Let’s hear him out.”

  Howie faced Denise. “I think you’re overreacting. Most parents see this as a golden opportunity for their child, a chance to compete at the highest level with support from EBG.”

  “Well,” Denise shouted, “we’re not most parents and Zachery isn’t most children. Don’t you dare involve yourselves in our lives again—understand?”

  George raised his hands in surrender.

  Denise stared at Gabe. “I’ll wait in the car.”

  After Denise stomped away, George stared at Gabe. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Berg. I assure you that our intention was only to help, and to offer an opportunity available to only a select few.”

  Gabe turned to both men. “I’m sorry my wife reacted this way, but raising Zack is a complicated undertaking. He’s an immensely gifted child, and we’ve decided that it’s our primary responsibility to protect him from the world’s best intentions.”

  After Gabe left, George turned to Howie. “Tell Professor Moneo that the Bergs weren’t interested. And, tell him that we di
d the best we could.”

  Outside, in the car, Denise sat with her arms crossed. When Gabe got behind the wheel, she sighed. “I’m sorry. I overreacted.”

  “You think?”

  “They must think I’m horrible.”

  “It doesn’t matter what they think.”

  “Yes, it does,” she said. “It’s only the beginning, Gabe. We thought this was a gift; I’m beginning to wonder if it’s a curse. I don’t know how much longer we can protect him.”

  Gabe squeezed her hand. “For as long as it takes.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The next evening, when Gabe came home after work, he was holding something behind his back.

  Zack ran up to him smiling. “Okay, give. What is it? It's for me, right?”

  “Relax,” Gabe said.

  Zack smiled. “Is it a pony—or a motorcycle?”

  “Right.” Gabe laughed, and then paused. “This may be too much for a ten-year-old, but I can return it, if it's too advanced.”

  Zack laughed. “You’re kidding, right?” When Gabe placed the package on the table, Zack ripped off the wrapping paper and beamed with joy.

  Zack held up the box and read aloud, “The Radio Shack Electronics Learning Lab—cool!” He tore the box open and flew through the instructions. “Mommy, I can build my own radio, amplifier, and power supply. Thank you—thank you,” Zack said, hugging his parents.

  For the next two days, Zack and the learning lab were inseparable. He grinned as he showed Denise and Gabe each new piece of equipment he had built.

  A week later, he came to Gabe. “I’ve finished every device. Do they make a more advanced version?”

  “I’ll find out,” Gabe said

  Over the next months, Zack worked his way through several more advanced kits, and soon it became clear to his parents that Zack would need much more. Gabe talked with his computer support people at the lab and they came back with old computer equipment from the catacombs beneath the lab. Gabe borrowed a truck and one day came home with a MITS Altair 8080, an Apple II, a Commodore PET, a TRS-80, and an IBM ThinkPad.