Hybrid (Brier Hospital Series Book 7)

by Lawrence Gold

  “You don’t think…” the Inspector said.

  She shook her head “no”.

  “What about his papers?” Ernie asked. “Are they here?”

  She nodded and guided them into a bedroom. An elderly man was lying in bed asleep with his mouth open. She opened a closet and pointed to a large cardboard box in the corner. “Whatever he’s got, it's in there.”

  “May we use your kitchen table to go through this? We won’t be long.”

  “Can I make you coffee?” she asked. “It's been a while since we’ve had company.”

  “Great,” Ernie said.

  The box contained several hundred spiral-bound notebooks labeled by year. They started in 1991 and worked forward. After paging through book after book, Ernie shouted, “Here it is. Byron Dok. The Berkeley P.D. found his body in the parking lot of the Claremont Hotel. Two shots, one to the chest and the other to his head.”

  Olsen’s hand trembled as he reached for the notebook. He skimmed through twenty pages on the Byron Dok case, and then said, “I’ll read. You take notes.”

  “With my handwriting, Inspector, let me read. You take notes.”

  With book in hand, Ernie read. “Dok lived in the Washington DC area. He was a small-time breaking and entering specialist. He did time in Maryland. He flew out the first week in March and had a return ticket three days later. Obviously, he didn’t make it. I’m having trouble reading some of it, but he had a list of phone numbers, but only one with a name, A. Moneo.”

  Olsen was startled and nearly fell off his chair. “Moneo—Alberto Moneo—I can’t believe it.”

  “Just A. Moneo,” Inspector. “You know an Alberto Moneo?”

  Olsen beamed. “Oh, yes, I know the erstwhile ‘Alberto Moneo’,” he said making double quotes with his fingers.

  “Tell me,” Ernie said.

  “You work for the attorney representing the Bergs against the East Bay Cryogenics Laboratory?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re up for a big bonus, I’m going to get a medal, and the Berg family, like they really need this, will be contracting for more psychiatric health coverage.”

  They thanked Mrs. Heath. Olsen held up the notebook and said, “We’ll return this to you when we’re through.”

  When Ernie was about to get in the car, he asked, “You’ll explain all this to me on the trip back.”

  Olsen nodded, shook his head while strolling to the driver’s side, and murmured, “Alberto Moneo—my ass!”

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Jorge was working in his office with Zeru Ibarra reviewing data sheets. Suddenly, the door flew open and Inspector Olsen burst in.

  Jorge’s secretary rushed in behind Olsen. “I’m sorry, Professor, he just raced by me.”

  “No problem,” Jorge told her. He faced Olsen. “What now? Don’t you see I’m busy?”

  “Come with me,” Olsen said. “I want a few words with you downtown.”

  “Am I under arrest, Inspector?”

  “No, but one way or another, we’re going to have a conversation. If you want an attorney, that’s your right.”

  Zeru stood and faced Olsen. “Why don’t you stop harassing Professor Moneo? He’s done nothing wrong.”

  “Be smart, Miss, and keep out of this.”

  Jorge came to his feet. “It’s okay, Zeru. We’re done for today. It’s about time that I straightened this out.”

  Zeru grasped Jorge’s hand. “But, Professor…”

  “I’ll be fine.” He turned to Olsen. “After you.”

  “No Professor, after you.”

  At the San Francisco Regional Office of the FBI, Jorge sat in a bleak interrogation room with a single table and two chairs. Inspector Olsen sat across.

  “You’re wasting both our times, Inspector,” Jorge said. “I have nothing to say.”

  “If you cooperate, I may be able to do you some good.”

  Jorge managed a mirthless laugh. “Can you bring back my family, Inspector?”

  “Look, Jorge, man-to-man, I can understand your hatred for Vega and for Salazar, too. They both should rot in hell for what they did.”

  “I must be sublimely lucky, Inspector,” Jorge said, “for Vega is already on his way.”

  “I know you did this—or had it done, but I’m willing to bet on the former. I don’t think you could resist the temptation to participate directly.”

  “Knowing is a long way from proving,” Jorge said.

  “Time is on our side, Jorge. We’re very resourceful and determined.” He paused. “One thing I would like to know is why you involved two innocent teenagers.”

  “You’re way out of line, Inspector. Zack and Adam had nothing to do with this. If you involve them simply to get at me, I’ll see that you’ll live to regret it.”

  Olsen grinned. “Who said anything about Zack and Adam?”

  Jorge turned ashen. “Well, I…”

  “You what?”

  “You’ve been after me from day one,” Jorge said. “Your time would have been better served chasing real criminals.”

  “So, I should ignore a dead Spanish diplomat, the death of six innocent people at Cal, and Adam’s attempted suicide? How can you live with yourself?”

  “You have no idea how that tragedy torments me,” Jorge said. “If only I had known or even suspected…”

  “For God’s sake,” Olsen cried, “show some decency. Stand up like a man and keep the boys out of it.”

  “I’m sorry, Inspector. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You sure as hell do.”

  “I’ve been patient, Inspector. I came here of my own volition. I’ve been sitting here letting you accuse me of all sorts of things, but either charge me, and I’ll call my attorney, or let me go. Your choice.”

  Olsen stood. “Don’t think for a moment that you’re going to get away with anything. We’re going back to day one, you’re arrival in California, And, if I find that you so much as spit on the sidewalk, you’ll pay.”

  “Anything else, Inspector? I’m a busy man and must move along.”

  Olsen placed a file on the table. Yes, I do have something.”

  Jorge stared at the file, and asked, “Okay, cut the drama. What is it?”

  Olsen fingered the file. “Criminal investigation has improved to such an extent that we’re doing much better with cold cases.”

  “I’m very happy to hear that,” Jorge said.

  “Criminals are not so happy when we finally catch up with them, especially when time had convinced them that they had gotten away with it. Criminals find it particularly disconcerting when we come a knock’n.”

  “Your games are getting annoying, Inspector. Get on with it, or let me leave.”

  Olsen stared intently at Jorge. “Have you ever heard the name, Byron Dok?”

  Jorge gasped and nearly fell off his chair.

  “Oh,” Olsen said, “I see you recognize the name.”

  Jorge shook himself, paused, and took a deep breath. “Byron Dok, an unusual name. I’m quite sure that I’ve never heard it before.”

  “Oh come now, Professor. We can tie you to the deceased Mr. Bok. I believe you were in California at the time of his death.”

  “I’m afraid that you have me confused with my brother. It was he who visited California at that time.”

  “You’re losing it, Professor, when you lie about something that’s so easy to disprove.” He paused. “And, Professor, when did your ‘brother’ visit California? I didn’t mention the time.”

  Jorge turned red with embarrassment. “We…I assumed…” he stammered.

  “You assumed what?”

  “I’m getting sick of this cat and mouse game that you enjoy so much. Place me under arrest or I’m leaving.”

  “All in good time, Professor.”

  Jorge stood. “Good luck, Inspector.”

  When Jorge headed for the door, Olsen said, “One thing more, Professor.”

  “What now?�
��

  “I’m requesting a warrant to obtain a sample of your DNA,” Olsen said.

  “On what basis?” Jorge asked.

  “I’m sure we have enough evidence to convince a judge,” Olsen said. “Don’t go changing your DNA now, Professor.”

  Jorge shook his head in disgust. “I’m sick of your obsession with me, Inspector.”

  “One more thing, Professor. I understand that the government of Spain, and especially the Spanish Security Forces, are unhappy about the death of Vega. They’ve talked extradition and may seek remedies of their own.” He paused. “Don’t get too excited now, but we hear that Francisco Salazar will arrive soon to escort Vega’s body back to Spain.”

  Jorge smiled. “From your mouth to God’s ear.”

  “Don’t leave town, Professor. I’ll see you soon.”

  Chapter Seventy

  When Jorge arrived back at the Denisovan Laboratories, Zeru followed him into his office where he slumped at his desk, head down.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  Jorge looked up. “It’s all falling apart. I expect that the FBI will place me under arrest within days to a week or so.”

  “Arrest for what?” She paused. “Don’t tell me that you’re involved in the murder of Vega, the Consul General?”

  “I can’t tell you anything. It’s likely that the FBI will call you to testify.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Zeru said. “Your hatred for Vega is no secret, but I thought you planned to reveal the man’s crimes against Spain. While I had agreed that’s a pretty anemic reaction, it was something, and I’m guessing it wouldn’t have involved our students.”

  “Zack and Adam are old enough to make their own decisions,” Jorge said.

  “You’re kidding,” Zeru said. “They’re teenagers, and despite their intelligence, they have immature brains too easily manipulated. Your influence over them is enormous.”

  “Things get out of control. I can’t help that.”

  “You’re my friend and mentor. You’re a hero to the Basque cause. How could you throw it all away for petty revenge?”

  Jorge clenched his fists. “Petty revenge! You don’t have a clue, do you?” He paused. “Did you really think that I would accept the slaughter of my family? They killed my son, my wife, and my mother—decapitated them. Abbaran was an innocent boy—what political objective justified his murder?”

  Zeru held her hands over her face as tears rolled down her cheeks.

  Jorge took a deep breath. “Don’t you think I know the downsides of my actions? I recall the John Ford, the dramatist had the perfect quote: ‘revenge proves its own executioner’—I’m living proof.”

  “What will you do?”

  “I don’t know,” Jorge said.

  “I’ll help you in any way I can,” she said.

  “Olsen’s applying to the court to obtain a sample of my DNA.”

  “Why?” Zeru asked. “We have it right here in the lab.”

  “For the obvious reasons in relation to a criminal investigation, and for not so obvious reasons.”

  Zeru shook her head. “I’m lost.”

  “I’ve said too much already. I really don’t want to foul up your life, too.”

  “You won’t—please.”

  Jorge crossed his arms and remained silent.

  “You can’t let it go at that,” Zeru said, rising. “I have a right to know.”

  “I need your solemn word that what I’m about to tell you never leaves this room.” He paused. “You’ll be upset and want to do something. I understand that, and I will reveal it all at the appropriate time and place. Even so, there are things that I will never reveal.”

  “Okay—okay.”

  “I have your word?”

  “Yes.”

  “How carefully did you look at the DNA analyses we performed here at the lab?”

  “Not carefully at all. That was for you and Ramon Rodriguez.”

  Please have a seat,” Jorge said. He pulled out his keychain, opened his second draw on the left, and extracted a green folder. These are the DNA profiles on the staff and the students at the Denisovan Institute.”

  Zeru reached for the folder. “Let me see.”

  “All in good time. Let me make it simple for you. Six children, I mean six male children, share the same DNA.” He paused. “Those boys are all related—that explains their resemblance to each other. Moreover, they share the same father—me!”

  Zeru’s eyes widened. She trembled, fixed her eyes on Jorge, and said, “Zack and Adam are genetically your sons?”

  “Yes, and four others,” Jorge said with pride. “Fantastic specimens, aren’t they.”

  Zeru threw the green folder to the floor. “My God! Oh, my God—you’re crazy. How could you do such a thing? What will they think—what will their fathers think when they find out?”

  “Of course that will be disturbing, but it is my intention that they never know. What purposes would their knowing serve?” He paused. “This was merely an evolutionary shortcut. This advances the Basque race by hundreds, perhaps, thousands of years.”

  Jorge stood and paced the room. “Don’t you understand, Zeru,” Jorge pleaded, “that Zack isn’t just the savior for the Basques, he may be much more—he could be the future of the entire human race.”

  Zeru shook her head in disgust. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and don’t start spouting the obscene philosophies of Nietzsche. Look what it led to when in 1933 the Nazi party seized control of Germany and forever altered the world’s opinion of eugenics.”

  “You certainly have developed a low opinion of me, Zeru, but I, in no way, condone that abysmal history as practiced by the Third Reich.”

  “You’re a hero of the Basque people. Nobody can question your devotion to the cause, but you ignore the dangers. Perhaps nothing’s wrong with perfecting the human race by encouraging beneficial traits and avoidance of genetic diseases or propensities such as psychopathy or schizophrenia—as long as it’s a matter of personal choice.”

  “But it is, Zeru. Don’t you see that?”

  “You’re blind,” Zeru said. “You can’t or won’t recognize the truth. Zack, the boys at the Denisovan School and their families are victims of your hubris, Jorge. They may have had a choice, but you took it away from them.”

  Zeru reddened with anger. “To call what you’ve done irresponsible would be the understatement of the century! Withholding the information is equally irresponsible and ultimately they’ll discover the truth. We must tell them.”

  “Absolutely not! You gave your word to me, Zeru.”

  “Let’s compare the damage to my reputation—to my giving my word against the damage to the children and their families by not knowing. There is no comparison, and one way or the other, I’ll see that they discover the truth.”

  Jorge stood. “Don’t screw with me, Zeru. Friendship does have its limits. If you do this, you’ll live to regret it. Moreover, I’ll need to reconsider your role with us at the Denisovan School and laboratories.”

  “Save yourself the time, Jorge. I quit!”

  Chapter Seventy-One

  Marnie and Ed Conner were at Brier Hospital in Adam’s room. Zack stood next to the bed holding his friend’s hand.

  When Jorge entered the room, Ed rose. “What are you doing here?”

  “Please. I’m distraught over this whole thing,” Jorge said. “This has been a massive misunderstanding.”

  “Misunderstanding—look at my boy. You have the nerve to come here.”

  “I didn’t have the guts not to come.” Jorge paused. “Yes, I was out for revenge, but not in this way. How Adam came to any other conclusion is beyond me.”

  Ed charged at Jorge, grabbed the front of his shirt, and pushed him up against the wall.

  Marnie cried, “No. Leave him alone.”

  Ed released Jorge. “Nice bullshit story, and so convenient as Adam’s in no position to contradict you.”

  Jorge k
nelt at Adam’s bedside and prayed. After several minutes, he stood, and said, “I’m sorry. I won’t intrude on your grief again.” When Jorge reached the door, he turned to Zack. “A few minutes of your time, Zack.”

  When they left the room, Jorge scanned the corridor. ‘I found a small waiting area for us to use at the end of the corridor.”

  When they entered the empty room, Zack said, “We shouldn’t be talking. It suggests conspiracy, and I’ll need to reveal our conversation if the authorities question me. Haven’t you done enough?”

  “What have you told the authorities?” Jorge asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “What do you intend on telling them?”

  “Well, Jorge, what do you think I should tell them?”

  “Don’t play games with me, Zack. Both our asses are on the line.”

  “You’re right, but my crime was being stupid, trusting, and naïve. You, on the other hand had something specific in mind from the start. You were deceptive and manipulative…a father figure— and we bought it. Even now, you can’t see how you betrayed our trust.”

  Jorge leaned forward holding his face in his hands.

  “Oh, please. Cut the dramatics,” Zack continued. “Is everything you do and say merely a con?”

  “I deserve that. I’m willing to accept responsibility for my actions, but remember that I had justification.”

  Zach stood and paced the small room. He stopped, turned, paced more, and then faced Jorge. “If my family had been slaughtered, I don’t know the limits of my efforts to seek revenge, but I’d like to think that they wouldn’t include destroying all those who depended on, and trusted me. Look at Adam. Remember those he murdered. Think about what’s going to happen to me. You’ve ruined my life.”

  “Let’s not lose touch with reality. We still have control of the situation. We can’t change what’s happened, but we have so much more to accomplish.”

  “You’re unbelievable,” Zack said. “Adam’s lying sixty feet away in a comatose state. His life, for sure, is over and yet, you refuse to accept any degree of responsibility. I’m no psychiatrist, but the two terms that come to mind are psychopath and narcissist—take your choice.”