She felt very alone. At least when Larry had died, she’d known she could count on her best friend for support. Now, who could she turn to?
Keith apparently still despised her for getting pregnant in the first place. One other person remained, but she didn’t seem a viable option. Though Dorrie liked Kelly, they hadn’t been friends that long, and she didn’t feel comfortable confiding something so earthshaking to her. Also, Kelly had mentioned Doug’s job didn’t pull in much salary-wise, which meant they counted on her extra income from the Institute. It would be best not to get her involved.
The baby kicked, reminding her she was not alone. Someone remained on her side and very much counted.
Would her child continue to exist? Soon it would be off the pill and on its own. Could it survive the three month transition period without the filtered dosage?
She’d have to think positive, a difficult thing to do with so much at stake.
***
“She’s got the iPhone,” the squat man with the thick glasses said from behind the metal desk in the darkened basement.
Roman frowned. “Can’t be. Your search came up empty.”
“Apparently, she’d stashed it somewhere, then went and got it. Here’s the surveillance tape.”
He tilted the screen. Roman bent to look and couldn’t believe his eyes. Pretty Mrs. Donato had seemed so innocent, yet she’d lied about the iPhone. Not only that, from the look on her face, she’d received a shocking revelation. He had a good idea what it was.
This could have been avoided if she’d played smart in the first place and given him the iPhone. Now she’d pay for her sentimentality.
It may not have been her original intent, but he could bet she now had access to the formula, along with her husband’s damaging findings. Though the computer’s screen wasn’t visible from the camera angle, judging from her fingers flying on the keyboard, she was copying from the iPhone to the computer.
The man returned the monitor to its original position. “You know what we’ve got to do.”
Heart heavy, Roman nodded. He’d grown to admire and feel close to the widow, not only because of her looks, but also because she carried his child. He often wondered if it would be born healthy or look like him. Given the circumstances, he may never know. That is, unless he could salvage the situation.
“What about the baby? It seems a waste to lose it, with only a few months left.”
“We can’t take the chance. Use your head, pretty boy. What’s more important? A kid who may be a monster, or the entire operation?”
“But the child could be the key to something huge.”
The man shot Roman a pointed look. “I’d thought of that, but you said no tests.”
Roman stared back. “Depends what you have in mind.”
“Can’t tell yet. Like I said, it could be a freak. Wouldn’t that be a twist, your child looking more like me than the pretty boy who’d fathered it.”
“On the other hand, what if, instead of being deficient, it turned out superhuman, as a result of its conception cocktail?”
The squat man rubbed his chin, then finally nodded. “It may be worth the wait.”
“Okay, it’s settled then, right? We’ll hold off on the baby. If something untoward happens to force the issue, we’ll move in. The video is from Sunday night. The widow showed up this morning and behaved as usual. If she’d blabbed to the authorities, they’d have been banging on the door by now, trying to shut us down. Don’t forget she’s got a vested interest in keeping her mouth shut.”
“Then why copy all of that onto her computer?”
“For insurance. She’s probably worried she’ll lose her job and the pill if the kid’s not normal.”
“Maybe. But you forget, she’s got the formula now and the ingredients aren’t hard to find.”
“Well, what if I convince her the husband’s formula isn’t the current one? After the holiday tomorrow, I can engage her in conversation and conveniently slip in that, because of her husband’s diligence, I’d been warned in time to prevent a calamity.”
The squat man smiled in approval. “Sometimes you’re more than a pretty face, Roman.”
***
The man slit his eyes as he watched the handsome one leave. Roman Remington’s charismatic looks grabbed audiences. His face and body sold. His value for now kept him safe, but only so far.
Weakness over the widow could be Roman’s downfall. No more mistakes. He’d pretend to go along with Roman’s wishes until it suited him otherwise. When the time came, a broadcast would spread informing the public of the widow’s passing. So sad for a lovely young woman to be snuffed from the face of the earth after a second chance at life.
The public would be aghast. She’d be a martyr for the cause, tallying more orders dead than alive. Of course, he’d harvest the child first before anyone knew of its existence. He’d waited long enough to be whole, and wouldn’t let the opportunity slip through his fingers.
He didn’t pity the widow, not after he’d been dealt such a bad hand himself. So surprising when fate stepped in and walloped you. He’d spent years preparing to overcome the tragic event which had stolen his looks and his life.
On that September day years ago, he’d gotten no warning of the tragedy awaiting him when he’d stepped from his favorite haunt, the local library.
Back then, a short, normal looking college freshman, owning somewhat weak eyesight from constant reading, he still looked decent enough to get some tail whenever he felt like it. With above average intelligence and grand ideas, he’d dreamt of the road to riches stretching ahead.
All that disintegrated when, instead of heading toward his Camaro, he’d taken a deadly detour to admire a golden retriever perched in the flatbed of a truck.
Before he could open his mouth to say hello to the dog, the placid looking animal went vicious, lunging at him, targeting his nose, mouth and cheeks, mauling his face.
The physical pain and numbness were nothing compared to the mental anguish he’d endured since. He’d consulted doctors, but to no avail. Perhaps if he’d been wealthy, the outcome would have been different. Then again, maybe not. It would have taken a miracle to repair the extensive damage, no matter how skilled the plastic surgeons.
Each successive surgery worsened his features, until he couldn’t look in the mirror without vomiting. No wonder people turned from the sight of the short, squat Frankenstein-ish creature who looked as if he’d stepped out of a monster movie. He didn’t blame them.
Rage escalated as he retreated into a self-conscious shell, completed his under grad and post grad studies from home, and gained double Masters Degrees in Biology and Chemistry. Not long afterward, one after another, his parents died of heart attacks, most likely due to embarrassment and disgust at living with a monster son.
On his own, he fervently pursued his goal. No matter what the time and cost, he’d be normal. The Forever Young pill resulted from his intense studies and experiments.
It seemed perfect, but an unbiased eye was essential to confirm his assessment. An out-of-state biochemist, Larry Donato, seemed the perfect solution, qualified, not well known, and easily eradicated. Even if Donato had not discovered its flaws, his knowledge of the formula would have been enough to ensure his destruction.
Using the widow as the first guinea pig had been genius, not only to keep an eye on her, but also to check the pill’s effects on her naturally sluggish thyroid. Fortunately for her and him, the pill worked. Still, he needed more subjects before he’d chance the leap. Would someone with a normal thyroid survive the young pill if a hormone blocking drug were added? His studies had proven inconclusive, though Donato’s had predicted disaster. Michael McIntyre’s demise validated Donato’s conclusion.
Another possibility remained, which Donato had discounted due to his concern over addiction and the other side effects. Kill the thyroid with radioiodine. Eliminate the endocrine secretions warring with the young pill.
He w
asn’t foolish enough to risk his own health. More subjects and more testing were necessary before the interminable agony of his wait could be concluded.
With each passing day, it became more difficult to hold off. He was so close, he could almost taste it. Soon there’d be no hiding. He’d be young again, yet wiser and normal looking, retaining all his memories and knowledge.
No one would stand in his way.
***
Roman’s thoughts whirled, as he watched the elevator numbers light up. He loved acting, and had gotten so deep into his role at the Institute he’d almost forgotten he wasn’t in charge. The squat man who paid him held the real power and genius.
At first he’d switched from job to job, utterly bored. Then, five years ago, as a last resort, he’d come up with the brainstorm of applying for an acting gig. Though he possessed no formal training, he knew he could pull it off. When he’d seen the ad from a small talent agency in the Phoenix Daily, to test his theory, he’d applied.
From the beginning, he’d encountered an alluring air of secrecy. The recruiter, a nondescript middle aged guy, had stepped out and scanned the waiting room’s applicants before gesturing for Roman to follow him into his office.
“Remain standing while I look you over,” the man ordered, and proceeded to slowly walk around Roman, examining his features and build.
“Hmm, you look the part. Say something so I can hear you talk. What was last night’s dinner?”
“A carryout hamburger and fries, but I would have preferred a T-bone and mashed potatoes. Unfortunately, those luxuries are denied me for want of a decent job.”
The man’s eyes lit up. “Wait here. I’ll be right back. You may get that T-bone yet.”
Sure enough, a few minutes later, the man reappeared with a slip of paper containing an address. “Okay, this is where to go.”
“Thanks. Oh, hey, can you give me some details and tell me who to ask for?”
The man shook his head. “I would if I could. I only know it’s an acting job. You’ll get filled in when you arrive. The instructions say to come at nightfall, no sooner. Good luck to you.”
The man had seemed nice, genuinely sorry he couldn’t be more helpful. Too bad he’d come to a bad end, caught in a house fire a week after the interview.
As Roman had pulled up to the dark turreted frame building with the desert cacti backdrop, he wondered if he’d stepped into the setting of a horror movie. The battered and flimsy dwelling looked as if the tumbleweeds could lift it up and blow it away.
It couldn’t be the place. He must have misread the address. He switched on the overhead light, pulled out the slip, and confirmed that the numbers and street name matched.
Maybe this was the movie set. Shrugging, he headed up the creaking wooden steps. At the top, after some difficulty, he located the doorbell in the dark. A voice from the speaker asked, “Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“Good, I’ll buzz you in.”
The secrecy intrigued Roman. He sensed an adventure to lift him from his boredom.
Once inside the semi-lit hallway, Roman could barely make out the approaching figure of a short stocky man. When the man drew closer, Roman sucked in his breath. Even in the darkness, the carnage of the man’s face was evident. My God, had he been born that way? If so, what did his parents look like?
“Come with me.”
The man led him into a study down the hall, then gestured for Roman to be seated. After verifying Roman’s credentials from the agency, the man stood up, trained a goose arm lamp over Roman’s face, and turned the light in various directions.
He didn’t mind his looks being scrutinized, but wondered if the man was some kind of masochist, or an evil scientist out for a skin graft. If so, Roman would fight tooth and nail to protect his prized possession.
The man nodded. “Yes, I believe you’ll do. We’ll add some highlights to your hair, and grow it out a good five inches. In the meantime, a wig will suffice. About those grey eyes, blue will work better. Easy fix with contacts. Any objections? “
“I have no problem with that.”
“Good.”
“Could I ask what the job entails?”
“All in good time. Now, let’s see, the agency said you have no acting experience, but would like to try. Is that correct? Tell the truth. I won’t hold it against you.”
“I’ve never acted professionally, but I can pull the wool over almost anyone’s eyes. Also, I’ve developed an extensive vocabulary, which adds credence to what I say.”
The man steepled his hands and rested his disfigured chin on his fingertips as he gazed at Roman. Telling himself it was good acting experience, Roman unflinchingly returned the stare.
“Do you like taking chances?”
“If there’s something in it for me.”
The man nodded, apparently satisfied.
“You’d need to be away from home. Any family to tie you down?”
“Not at all. My parents are dead; I never had a wife or kids.”
“Are you a religious person?”
“Only when I need to be.”
“Are you a stickler for the law?”
“Again, only when I need to be.”
“Are you on good terms with the IRS?”
“Same answer.”
“So, it wouldn’t bother you to accept a bonus or two under the table?”
Roman smiled. “Not at all.”
Finally, the man nodded. “Okay, let’s give it a try. Remember, what I’m about to say is highly confidential. If word got out, extreme consequences would result. Here’s what I want you to do…”
The proposal seemed farfetched. The man was certifiable. His plan would never work.
Roman’s heart sank. He’d looked forward to stretching his acting muscles and seeing what would happen. Instead, he’d need to return to the agency to find more suitable employment.
He half wanted to make a fast exit, but curiosity made him stay. Just how far did the man’s delusions reach? Did the frightening creature believe what he proposed?
“Forgive me for being skeptical, but what you suggest sounds impossible.”
“That’s why I need an actor such as you to convince people otherwise.”
“You need more than that. How about proof?”
“I’ll furnish that. You need only be convincing and look pretty. For that you’ll receive a handsome recompense, along with a percentage of the sales.”
The man went on, explaining how they’d build the public’s trust first through various fool-proof products before unleashing the cash cow. Even if the end plan didn’t materialize, Roman would still receive guaranteed compensation in the meantime.
It could turn into a fun gig. For sure he wouldn’t be bored.
His “I’ll do it,” clinched the deal, setting into play a wild, exciting ride. The grand adventure began, taking place in the sprawling, white stone building turned playground in Scottsdale, where Roman ruled as king, while the power behind the throne hid in the sub-basement.
The position proved heady. He enjoyed the power, though his authority was only through the askance of the other man.
The first stage of concentrating on health aid products to gain consumer confidence proved easy. He enjoyed performing the infomercials and reeling in customers. He hadn’t a clue if the products worked and could care less. His job was to make sales and he did. Who wouldn’t believe such a sincere, angelic looking man?
Countless people fell for his spiel on the placebo weight loss pills. Some lost weight, more likely through diligence in calorie counting and following an exercise regime, rather than through the pills themselves.
He’d made a tidy sum from the health aids, but now, with the Forever Young pill deposits, real money came rolling in. Who’d believe that what the squat man had promised would actually come true for the widow? He had to hand it to the man for genius.
Roman didn’t blame him for doing all in his power to protect his intere
sts. One wrong move and the man’s hard work, hopes and dreams would be squashed.
Not to mention Roman’s acting gig.
***
Jeanne called Dorrie early on New Year’s Day. “I’m sorry I flew off the handle the other day. I don’t know what got into me to say that mean and vicious stuff about your baby. You didn’t deserve to hear that. You’re in a tough situation. I know you’re coping as best you can.”
“And I’m sorry, too, for going off on you. You’ve had it rough lately, with losing your Dad. I should have realized you didn’t mean what you were saying. Anyway, I’m glad we’re starting the New Year off right.”
“Me, too. Darn, I’ve got to run. The animals are hungry. I’m their last hope. Everyone else is off visiting relatives.”
It was good her friend had found something worthwhile to occupy her time, and keep her mind off of Mike’s absence.
The next morning Roman called her into his office. Feeling as if she were answering the voice of doom, she slowly got up. He met her at the door and closed it.
A trapped feeling overwhelmed her. Squaring her shoulders, she tried to appear nonchalant.
“Sit down, my dear.”
Once she was seated, he began. “There’s a misconception I’d like to clear up before questions are raised. I believe your friend, Jeanne McIntyre, is still under the impression my pill caused her father’s death. Am I right in that assumption?”
Dorrie’s throat went dry. What was he getting at? How much should she admit?
“I can see from your expression I am. Listen, Dorrie, let’s be honest. If I were in her position, I’d think the same thing. I wish I’d had the opportunity to explain the matter thoroughly, but given her distraught condition, I didn’t get the chance.
“I understand this whole unfortunate incident leaves you in a delicate position, working for someone your friend believes is the devil incarnate, so to speak.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
Forever Young: Blessing or Curse (Always Young Trilogy) Page 16