'Lord, we thank you for providing the meal we see before us, and for keeping us safe and warm this year. We want to spare a thought for those less fortunate, and pray that you will watch over them. I pray you will keep my family together in the future, and that you will help them to overcome any loss, distress, or adversity that may come their way. Amen.'
'Amen.' His father gives her a puzzled look, takes a long sip of wine, and starts to carve the bird.
After the meal, his mom takes some of the plates to the kitchen and his dad takes his glass of cognac into the living room. Travis knows it won't be long before his father will be snoring, so he makes his way back to the playroom to master the Atari system. The game seems to swallow time. Moving the paddle dial on the game and bashing the computer bricks with the ball is enthralling, but as the day progresses, there are only so many times he can knock the video tennis ball back against the screen's wall, and he begins to feel bored with the game.
Sifting through the stack of toys, he picks up the large model of the USS Enterprise again. He looks at the instructions on the back of the box, and then turns the box to the front to look at the spaceship's picture. He really likes the TV program, and would love to have a spaceship of his own. Maybe he can get one of the maintenance guys to build this for him; then from the other room, he hears the hacking sound of his mother bursting into a round of deep coughing.
Travis became aware of his office again for a moment and found himself staring at the model in the case. He started to remember the work that had gone into building it, and his mind immersed itself again in his childhood.
His mother's Christmas cough had gotten progressively worse over the next few months; sometimes he felt sure she was going to bring up a lung. He could see himself in his parents' bedroom; his mother was sitting up in bed. Her hair was virtually gone and she looked anaemically white. He sat on the chair next to her and lifted the lid off the model's box. Lying inside were large and small plastic pieces of the spaceship fixed to outer frames. The pieces were all numbered and bore no resemblance to the picture on the front of the box. They were more like pieces of a 3D jigsaw puzzle that would be daunting to a child many years older than Travis. He was about to close the lid again, when his mother spoke.
'Bring it over to me, Travis.' Her voice sounded hoarse and weak. 'What a great looking plane,' she said looking at the image on the box.
'It's a spaceship,' he corrected.
'Sorry. What a great looking spaceship. Are you just going to look at the box, or shall we see if we can put it together?'
Travis' face brightened, and he pulled the top two frames out of the box, ripping the main body of the ship from its plastic casing.
'Careful Travis, shouldn't we look at the directions and make sure we put it together in the right order. Tell you what, you run downstairs and get some glue, and I'll read the assembly instructions.'
Travis jumped off the bed and ran to the door. He looked back at his mother. Her eyes were on him as he was about to leave, and he noticed they looked alert and alive, more so than they'd been for a long time. He came back quickly with the glue and they put the first few pieces together. Then they talked a little about her illness. He was too young to understand cancer, but he knew it was serious.
The next day his father had one of his staff set up a workbench in place of the bedside table; this was to be the 'paint shop' of their project, the place where each glued piece would dry. In front of his mother was a breakfast-in-bed table, now named the fitting room, the place where they'd piece together their project. They picked up the first pieces from the previous day and — following the instructions — started to put the ship together.
With each part they assembled, more of his mother's illness revealed itself. First the cough, that nasty, deep, lung-tearing cough that doubled her over and made her eyes stream. Then the nosebleeds that came from nowhere, and for no particular reason; sometimes a trickle, other times a flood. And last, but by no means least, the unpredictable bouts of heavy vomiting, producing putrid green bile long after the contents of her stomach were emptied. Each time, after the storms of illness had subsided, they would discuss it. How it made her feel, how it was all a part of her getting better.
Production stopped for a few hours during each chemotherapy session, and Travis wasn't allowed to be present during the process. Sometimes he'd observe what went on through the keyhole, witnessing his father holding his mother's hand, overhearing him tell her that it would all be okay.
As the weeks went by, the spaceship took shape. His mother always seemed to brighten when it was time for them to build together. In some way, Travis believed, for as long as they were building the model his mother would be fine. So he took his time in the meticulous painting and shaping of the model. But one day, after a very long consultation with the doctor, his father came to Travis with tear-filled eyes and told him that his mother had only a few days left before she would pass away.
'But you can't die, the model isn't finished,' he told his mother.
She explained to him that she'd be going to another place, and that she'd be looking down on him, loving and protecting him forever.
The very next day she was gone.
For a few weeks after the funeral Travis kept to himself; he stayed in his room, and seldom spoke when he did venture out. His father tried everything he could think of to get Travis to open up and grieve. One day he decided to try another, unexplored, avenue; he went to Travis' room and sat on his bed.
'Son, your mother told me how much making the model meant to her. Not just putting the spaceship together, but the time you spent with her. She loved you very much. Do you remember at Christmas when she prayed and asked God to keep us together?'
Travis thought about the prayer while his father continued, 'I think working on the spaceship might be the answer to her prayer. What do you say to us finishing it between us? I know your mother would've liked that.'
Travis thought about what his father had said, and then nodded as he cried and they hugged each other.
31
RUSSIA
The Fab Four watched as Aloysha was put under for another session. 'This is ridiculous,' one of the men said.
'We got more out of him before Viktor took him away; he's obviously fighting us.'
The other three nodded their assent.
'Given time, he'll break; they always do,' the woman added.
'Time is something that's working against us,' another man chipped in. 'I think it's time to expedite these sessions. We need to get the clone's trust back; I think we should reintroduce Viktor.'
The other three looked at him as if he was crazy.
'I don't mean physically. I've given this a lot of thought, and I think we should do some form of video message from Viktor telling the clone that it's all right to talk to us.'
'That all sounds great, but do you think Viktor will go along with any of this?'
'I'm sure the team over there will be able to persuade him.' Once again they all nodded, and they went in to see what Aloysha's dreams would bring that day.
GERMANY
For the past twenty-four hours Ansgar had been very cooperative. They'd told him that for medical reasons it was best he remain awake and active until they got his sleep patterns controlled. Very early on the doctors had explained that he was an exceptional child who, with luck, would have the power to see far into the past. His gift would be used to answer many questions — questions men had asked for centuries — and this was why he was so special. The previous day, the doctors had announced it was time for his gift to reveal itself, so although he didn't understand why he fell asleep during their talks, he was more than happy to help.
He'd been put under three times since they began the treatment, and each time the visions became clearer and stronger.
So far they'd ascertained he had visited or passed through a town called Capurnum. Establishing this piece of information had the team overjoyed. There was no way fo
r the clone to have known about that town unless somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind he had, in fact, been there. He'd also told them that most of the time he either travelled on foot or by donkey. There seemed to be a common pattern to all of his dreams so far — storms and torment followed by serenity and calm. These points were obviously a lot less startling, but the doctors were nonetheless amazed.
As Ansgar went under once more, both Klaus and the doctor waited with anticipation for what was in store for them this time.
RUSSIA
It had been twelve hours since Aloysha's last session. It had again been a fruitless exercise, and the Fab Four were now looking forward to presenting the new video to him. The team holding Viktor had done a great job; they'd produced a video of the doctor telling Aloysha he was sorry he couldn't be with him, that the company had sent him on a special assignment to a tropical island where a new species of animal had been discovered, and he was to bring it back to evaluate it. He said everything was fine, and he would be in to see him once he returned. He also told Aloysha to cooperate fully with his friends.
Viktor's captors had even managed to rustle up an island backdrop, made from an advertising billboard. If you looked at the video closely enough, you could just make out the travel agent's logo on the corner of the backdrop. Viktor's bruises had been concealed, and he sounded reasonably natural, despite reading from a script.
Out of curiosity, one of the Fab Four had asked how they'd managed to get Viktor to do this.
The reply was, 'Viktor is a broken man; with the right incentive we could probably get him to smile as he slit the clone's throat, if that's what you wanted.'
No more questions were asked.
When he'd watched the tape, Aloysha's eyes brightened. He was happy he would see his mentor again soon, and since Viktor had said it was okay to open up to the Fab Four, he started to tell them some of the dreams he'd been having — even without going under.
32
LOS ANGELES
Malone came back to Headquarters with his head hanging low. It had been another wasted day. He'd decided he just wasn't cut out to be a private investigator, and should probably hire some professional help. Daniel, as always, was eager to hear the day's events.
'Well, let me see, I've spent most of the day sitting in the back of a hot, smelly cab, staring at a downtown law office.' They'd both decided, following his near discovery by Dale the night before, they should change tack and see what he did during the day. He certainly hadn't done much at night: some gym sessions, and some DVDs — nothing to warrant Malone staying out all night.
'He went somewhere in a rush this afternoon.'
'What do you mean he went somewhere? Didn't you follow him?'
Malone gave Daniel a discouraged look before explaining. 'I'd been sitting there most of the day without a glimpse of him. He didn't even go out for lunch. So I went to the phone booth to call and make sure he was still in there. His secretary said he'd just left, so I ran right back to the cab. I got there just in time to see him run out of the office block and duck inside a cab. I yelled at my cab driver to "follow that cab", which, I might add, isn't as much fun to say as I thought it would be.'
Malone took a breath and looked embarrassed. 'We followed the wrong bloody cab. We argued about which one to follow — turns out the cab driver would probably have been right.'
With a grin on his face, Daniel shook his head. 'Maybe I should be on the road, and you should learn how to use a computer.'
Malone laughed at himself. 'I was thinking that maybe it was time to hang up my gumshoes.' And then he turned serious. 'I think we need to bring in some professional help; maybe we should get a PI involved.'
'Are you serious?' Daniel asked. He was gobsmacked.
'I'm really not cut out to be a detective, well certainly not surveillance anyway. We'd be able to achieve more with some help.'
'So you intend to go to a PI, and explain why you want a respected patent lawyer followed? Why not go the whole hog, and get your mate Logan and the SWAT team involved?' Daniel realized he was getting rather dramatic, but it was their investigation, and he felt very protective of it. His reaction didn't make much sense to him, but then he wondered how much of this thing did.
Malone seemed to understand what Daniel was feeling. 'Then what do you suggest, my little sidekick?'
Daniel thought for a moment. 'Have you got a driver's license? What if you got a car and followed him yourself, maybe even changed the car every couple of days to avoid suspicion?'
Malone was stunned. The thought of driving a car again made a shiver run down his spine. 'Yes, I do have a license, but for reasons I won't go into at the moment I don't think that would be a good idea.'
'Well, what else do you suggest then?'
'I'm not sure, I'm still mulling over the PI idea.'
Daniel looked irritated. 'Well, give me a call when you've come up with a better suggestion.' He flicked off the computer and left the house in a huff.
Malone thought about going after him, but decided he didn't need an argument right now. Instead he took option B, and went into the living room to watch some TV. The recliner hugged him like a long-lost friend, and it wasn't too long before he was asleep.
Malone was banging the table beside his dead wife's body, and he was yelling. The banging got louder and louder until it woke him up. It took him a few moments to realize the banging wasn't just in his nightmare, but at his front door too. He stumbled out of the chair and shuffled to the door; as he opened it, the door thrust inwards crashing into him. Malone stumbled backwards and hit the floor hard. Two large men stood in the doorway; they moved slowly in and closed the door behind them. They bent down, one on either side of him, slid their hands under his armpits and picked him up. Dragging him backwards into the living room, they threw him onto the couch. Both were big men, faceless meatheads, the types Malone had seen standing at nightclub doors. One of them slapped Malone's face to get his attention. 'We hear you've been visiting a friend of ours, someone who doesn't like to be disturbed.'
Malone wasn't trying to act dumb; he was struggling to wake up from his nightmare, and he also had no idea who their friend was. His face displayed complete bewilderment. He got another slap and he put both hands up to his face. 'Stop, stop! Who are you talking about?' he burst out.
'Let's just say he's in the legal business. What were you doing there?' one of them boomed.
Malone realized they were talking about Dale, but decided the dumb act was the best way to go. 'Legal business? Are you sure you guys have the right place?'
He got another slap.
'Wait. Okay, I do know who you mean. We . . .' As he said this, he kicked the guy closest to him between the legs and jumped up. He knew he was about to get a beating, so he took his uncle's advice about taking at least one of them down with him. He swung his elbow into the face of the guy closest to him, unfortunately missing his nose. He then started to swing his fists, managing to get in a few good shots before being dropped. He covered his face and weathered the storm.
The beating didn't take too long. Despite their anger at being duped, the men showed remarkable restraint. Finally they left, breaking some of the furniture as they went, and threatening to return if he was ever seen at Dale's again.
Once they'd gone, Malone's first instinct was to check on Daniel. He cautiously opened his bedroom door, half-afraid of what he might find. Flicking the light on and seeing Daniel's bed still made, Malone realized the young man hadn't come back. His concern as to where Daniel was spending the night was overshadowed by the relief that he hadn't been in the way of the two thugs. Malone hobbled to the bathroom to check himself in the mirror. He looked a bit of a mess, but after feeling around his face he decided there was nothing broken. Just some blood, swelling, and bruising. Once he'd cleaned up the blood, he got some ice from the freezer to reduce the swelling. His ribs let him know they'd been bruised when he pulled open the freezer door. Putting on the coffee, he took
a couple of aspirin, flopped onto the couch and waited for the morning to arrive. The visit from the Twins helped Malone to firm up on his next move.
Daniel still hadn't arrived home in the morning. Though mildly concerned, Malone took a cab to the Hertz office and arrived as it opened. He wanted to make an early start. He was sore, but he looked worse than he felt.
A valet unchained the gate and gave Malone an uneasy stare. Malone just smiled and went into the reception area. The young girl behind the desk winced when she looked up from her booking sheet.
'You should see the other guy,' he joked.
He booked a mid-sized automatic sedan and walked through the car lot to the bay number that matched his form. The burgundy Ford shone in the sunlight, and after checking the registration, he got behind the wheel. The Ford's new car smell was slightly masked by the aroma of polish, and Malone ran his hands around the steering wheel as he got acquainted with all the buttons, levers, and dials. Satisfied that he knew where everything was, he turned the key in the ignition. The stereo blasted sound, making him jump; it was some tune he didn't recognize. He switched it off, adjusted the mirrors and, taking a deep breath, slipped the car into drive, released the handbrake, and drove out of the lot. He was immediately greeted by the morning rush-hour traffic, and quietly swore at himself for being impatient and not waiting until later. After only a few minor driving errors and a bit of horn blowing, he made it back home feeling pleased with his success.
There was still no sign of Daniel. I should give Logan a call and ask him to keep an eye out, Malone thought as he made his way to the kitchen. He was about to call Logan when he noticed the flashing red light on his answering machine. When he hit the button Daniel's voice blared out.
'Hey Malone, pick up . . . Anyway, sorry about last night . . . just got a bit angry and stayed at a buddy's place. Don't worry; he's not one of the old buddies.
'Look, he's got a gruntier computer so I'm gonna stay round here and do some more checking. If you need me the number here is . . .'
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