The Big Sheep

by Robert Kroese

  “Afraid not,” said Keane. “Congratulations, Priya actually remembers you. You should feel honored.”

  “But … she’s a sheep!” Mag-Lev said.

  “I’m still me, Giles,” said the Bryn-sheep. “I just look different. I’m the same inside.”

  “No,” said Mag-Lev. “You’re not her. You’re an animal. You’re not Priya!”

  “It’s me!” the Bryn-sheep pleaded. “Please, you have to believe me. It’s me, Bryn. You still love me, don’t you, Giles?”

  Mag-Lev shook his head, backing away from the Bryn-sheep. “Stop it,” he said. “You’re not her! Stop talking!”

  “Giles, please!” cried the Bryn-sheep, walking toward Mag-Lev. “You’re all I have. I thought you would be happy to see me. Now we can finally be together!”

  “Get that thing away from me!” Mag-Lev howled, drawing his gun. “Get it out of here before I shoot it!”

  The Bryn-sheep backed away, frightened. Roy stepped in between her and Mag-Lev. “Don’t you dare!” Roy growled.

  Mag-Lev backed off. “Just get it away from me! Get it out of here!” he screamed.

  The Bryn-sheep trotted out the door, followed closely by Roy.

  “Get out of here,” Mag-Lev growled. “All of you!”

  The rest of us made for the door, Keane bringing up the rear. As he reached the door, he stopped and turned to face Mag-Lev. “We’re square,” he said. “I met the terms of our deal.”

  “Just get out!” Mag-Lev screamed. “Get out!”

  I walked outside and Keane followed, closing the door behind him. I looked back to see Mag-Lev crouched next to the chair in which Bryn’s corpse reclined. He was holding the dead woman’s hand and staring at her face, as if to erase the thought of the Bryn-sheep.

  Roy and the Bryn-sheep were already almost to Pavel’s Suburban, parked just down the street. I walked as fast as I could without jarring my arm.

  “Hurry up,” said Keane. “I can’t guarantee Mag-Lev isn’t going to realize he’s been had.”

  It took me a moment to figure out what he meant. “You coached her,” I said.

  “Bryn deserves most of the credit,” said Keane. “She’s actually a hell of an actress.”

  “I wondered how she’d recognized him,” I said. “So all that stuff about them finally being able to be together…”

  “She didn’t even remember Giles Marbury,” he said. “I told her the only way Mag-Lev would let her go was if she pretended to be in love with him.”

  “How the hell did you settle on that strategy?” I asked.

  Keane shrugged. “Mag-Lev is all surface. Appearances are the only thing that matter to him. He was never in love with Priya. He was in love with the idea of being the guy with Priya. So you give him Priya without the image of Priya, and he loses his mind. He couldn’t process it.”

  “What if he’d shot her?”

  “It was a calculated risk,” said Keane. “I guessed that his need to delude himself about his love for Priya would outweigh his revulsion toward her.”

  “Did you tell Bryn about this ‘calculated risk’?” I asked.

  “I didn’t have a lot of time,” Keane replied.

  “You’re an asshole,” I said.

  Just then my comm chirped. It was Dr. Takemago. I groaned. I had almost managed to forget that we’d also promised the sheep to Jason Banerjee at Esper. We may have escaped Selah Fiore and Mag-Lev, but we still needed to deal with Banerjee. Out of the frying pan, into the fire.

  “Dr. Takemago,” I said. “We’ve got your sheep, but there have been some … complications.”

  For a moment I heard nothing but a sort of rustling sound. Eventually I realized Takemago was crying.

  “Dr. Takemago, what’s wrong?”

  “Mr. Fowler,” Takemago said, gasping. “They’re dead. They’re all dead.”

  “Who?” I asked. “Who’s dead?”

  “The sheep,” Takemago said. “He’s killed them. Said it was too dangerous, that someone would find out what had been done. Mr. Fowler, Mary cannot be brought back here. Please, promise me you will keep Mary safe from Mr. Banerjee.”

  “I promise,” I said, without taking a moment to think about it. “I’m not letting that son of a bitch near Mary.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Fowler,” Takemago said. The line went dead.

  “I mean it, Keane,” I said. “We can’t let Banerjee have the—have Bryn. He’ll kill her.”

  Keane regarded me silently for a moment. “Let’s get you to a hospital,” he said.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Pavel drove the Suburban to the hospital, where I spent most of the next three hours waiting for a doctor to set my arm. I don’t remember much after that.

  I woke up in my own bed to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. April was standing over me, a mug in her hand.

  “Time to get up, sleepyhead,” she said. “Keane’s been bugging me for two hours, but I told him to let you sleep. I don’t think I can hold him off much longer though.”

  I groaned and slowly sat up, using my left arm. My right was in a cast. The arm ached a bit, but the excruciating pain from the previous night was gone. “What time is it?” I asked.

  “Just after nine,” said April. “Keane says you have a meeting with Esper’s vice president of research and development. What’s that about?”

  I took the mug from April and sipped the coffee. “The sheep,” I said. “Technically it belongs to Esper. Legally, we’re obligated to deliver it to them.”

  “You can’t be serious,” said April. “She isn’t just a sheep. She’s a person. I’ve spent the past hour talking to her.”

  “She’s here?” I asked.

  “She and Roy slept in the lobby. He’s head over heels for her. It’s kind of adorable.”

  “How is Bryn doing?” I couldn’t help thinking she was due for some kind of psychotic break once she became fully aware of what had been done to her.

  “Surprisingly well,” said April. “Roy seems to be helping. I get the feeling this is the first time in quite a while anybody has treated her like a person.”

  I couldn’t think of anything to say to that. Had Bryn really been so thoroughly objectivized as Priya Mistry that taking the form of a farm animal really was preferable? Or was her quiescent demeanor simply the result of Allebach’s memory implants? Allebach had given her the memory of having gradually adjusted to being a sheep, as a sort of cushion against the jarring nature of the transition. But if she figured out that memory was fake, would she be forced to come to grips with what Selah had done to her? Or would the power of the memory hold, even after it was revealed to be an illusion? I couldn’t begin to guess.

  “Whatever Bryn may look like,” said April, “she’s a human being. You can’t give her up to Esper. You don’t know what they’ll do to her.”

  I sighed. Actually, I was pretty sure I did know. “That’s what I told Keane,” I said. “But it’s complicated.”

  “How is it complicated?” asked April. “You agreed to retrieve a sheep, not a person. Circumstances have changed. Tell Banerjee you were unable to solve the case. Return his money. Problem solved.”

  “It’s not just the money,” I said.

  “Then what is it?” she asked.

  “Fowler!” I heard Keane yell through the door to my apartment. “Time to go!”

  “I need to get dressed,” I said.

  “What did Keane mean when he said Banerjee would blow the lid off Maelstrom? Jesus, Fowler. You need to stop protecting him. I heard what Selah said about—”

  “I’m sorry, April,” I said. “I’ve got to go.”

  Keane and I took a cab to the Esper building, leaving Roy and April to watch Bryn. Keane instructed Roy to keep the doors locked and shoot anybody who tried to get in. Keane said he didn’t trust Banerjee not to send the cops to smash in our door and try to take the sheep by force. I didn’t either, but then I wasn’t sure I even trusted Keane at this point. We rode to Esper in sil
ence, except for the sound of the rain.

  “Gentlemen,” said Banerjee as we walked into his office. “Any luck finding my sheep?”

  “Oh yes,” said Keane. “It’s been quite a productive couple of days. We’ve learned, for instance, why you’re so concerned about getting Mary back. I had a nice conversation with her about it this morning, in fact.”

  Banerjee regarded Keane coldly. “That sheep belongs to me,” he said. “I demand you return it.”

  “So you can kill her like the others?” I said.

  “Look,” said Banerjee. “Whatever you think you know about Mary, the fact is that she’s just an animal. An animal that belongs to me, to do with as I see fit. Hand her over, Mr. Keane, or the truth comes out.”

  Keane studied Banerjee for some time. “No,” he said at last. “I don’t think I’ll be doing that.”

  “Why?” asked Banerjee. “What possible use do you have for a sheep?”

  “None,” said Keane. “But as far as I can tell, Mary has never hurt anyone. You, on the other hand, are a murderous psychopath and, quite frankly, a huge asshole. I don’t like you, and I don’t like being blackmailed.” Banerjee glared at Keane but said nothing. I appreciated Keane standing up to Banerjee, but I sure hoped he had more up his sleeve than insults, because otherwise we were in serious trouble. “You know,” Keane went on, “I’d hoped that by the time I walked in here, I’d have figured out an angle to use on you, some way to outmaneuver you. I already outsmarted Selah Fiore and Mag-Lev, and I figured it couldn’t be too difficult to find some leverage to use against you as well. But to be honest, I’ve got nothing. Maybe I’m slipping, I don’t know. I’m not in a position to dictate terms to you. Right now the sheep is in the lobby of my building. Yours for the taking.”

  I stared at Keane, not believing what I was hearing. After all we had gone though, he was going to cave to Banerjee?

  “Good,” said Banerjee, with a smile. “I appreciate your willingness to be reasonable on this matter. I’ll write you a check and send someone to fetch the sheep.”

  Keane shook his head. “You misunderstand me,” he said. “I’m not taking your money, and I’m not giving you the sheep. Here’s how this is going to play out, Banerjee. Mr. Fowler and I are going to walk out of here, and we’re going to get that sheep somewhere safe. Somewhere you will never find her. Mary is going to live the rest of her life, however long that may be, out of the spotlight. The fact is, you and Mary want the same thing: to keep her out of the news. So if you’re smart, you’ll leave things be. If, on the other hand, you’re more vengeful than smart, you’ll break into my building and take her. If you do that, I’m going to make sure you and Esper get plenty of headlines. Everyone in the world will know Esper genetically engineered sheep with human brains—and then killed them to destroy the evidence.”

  “You have no proof of any of that,” said Banerjee. “And you’re forgetting about Maelstrom.”

  “Listen to me, you moron,” said Keane, leaning over the desk. “I know full well you can destroy me. What I’m telling you is that I don’t care. If I let you play that card once, you’re going to get it in your head you can play it whenever you like. That isn’t going to happen. So destroy me if you like, but understand this: there is no upside for you. If you take that sheep, you’re going to spend the next five years doing damage control—if you manage to keep your job, which I seriously doubt. Release the Maelstrom information if it will make you feel better, but your threats aren’t going to factor into my decision. You already got what you wanted: leave us alone, and nobody will ever find out about your illegal research. Fuck with us, and you’re in for a world of trouble. We’ll see ourselves out.”

  Keane got up and made for the door. I followed.

  “Nice doing business with you, Banerjee,” said Keane, turning to smile at Banerjee. “Try to be good.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  Keane and I grabbed a cab outside of the Esper headquarters. We rode in silence most of the way, the rain having subsided to a slight drizzle. Finally I spoke. “I appreciate your standing up to Banerjee,” I said. “I mean, Selah and Mag-Lev, too, but Banerjee had you over a barrel.”

  Keane shrugged. “Threatening to expose Esper’s illegal research seemed like the best strategy, given the circumstances.”

  “No,” I said. “The best strategy would have been to turn Bryn over to Banerjee. When you played Selah, you needed the sheep to bargain with Mag-Lev, and when you played Mag-Lev, you needed the sheep to pay off Banerjee. But you don’t need her anymore. You had no good play against Banerjee, and no reason to put yourself at risk like that other than concern for Bryn. You’re still an asshole, but I wanted to let you know I appreciate your standing up for her.”

  Keane seemed uncertain what to say to that. Finally he said, “I didn’t know they were going to kill everybody in Maelstrom. I should have figured it out, but I didn’t. I got so wrapped up in the project, I didn’t think about the implications.”

  “Clearly,” I said. “I mean, you worked on a top-secret project to deal with the aftermath of a cataclysm in Los Angeles, and you never considered that the people signing the checks were up to no good?”

  “Sometimes my desire to solve a problem … clouds my judgment,” Keane said. “But I’ve never killed anybody. I tried to stop them, but I barely got out myself. Creating the character of Erasmus Keane was my only way out. And I swear, Fowler, I had nothing to do with Gwen’s death.”

  I swallowed hard. “So she is dead?”

  Keane looked down. “As far as I know, yes,” he said.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He was silent for a moment. “I … couldn’t.”

  I snorted. More non-answers from the non-person, Erasmus Keane. I was getting really tired of this shit.

  “Look,” said Keane after a moment. “I know you’re still mad at me, and I don’t blame you, but we have more pressing matters to worry about.”

  “More pressing than you conspiring with my missing girlfriend to destroy Los Angeles? Really? Like what?”

  “Like the fact that we don’t know for certain that Banerjee didn’t send the police to pick up Bryn while we were out.”

  My chest tightened. I’d been so preoccupied with Keane’s sins, I’d forgotten Banerjee still presented a very real threat. I had been counting on him to make the rational decision, but there was no guarantee he would. If Banerjee was angry enough with Keane, he might kidnap Bryn and ruin Keane’s life after all, just to spite him.

  These fears were confirmed when we got out of the cab in front of the office and saw that the door had been smashed in. It was only open a few inches, as if someone had tried to close it again, but the wood had splintered around the locks.

  “Wait here,” I said to Keane, drawing my gun. I ran to the door and shoved it open. The building was eerily quiet, and I moved inside, gun at the ready. Brian still had my SIG, but I’d retrieved a Glock from the office. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light of the lobby, and at first I didn’t notice the giant fuzzy mass lying in the corner of the room. It wasn’t moving. Near the sheep’s head was a large, dark stain in the carpet.

  “No,” I murmured, moving slowly toward the sheep. “Please.” For some reason I had assumed Banerjee’s people would abduct Bryn and dispose of her in some cold, sterile fashion in the Esper lab—not shoot her and leave her for dead in my lobby. But Banerjee was relying on the LAPD to be his muscle, and they weren’t known for their finesse. And if Banerjee wanted to send us a message, this was the way to do it. I could only hope Roy hadn’t been killed trying to protect Bryn. And April. Jesus, I had no idea if April had been here as well. Banerjee would have told the cops to be thorough.

  I knelt over the sheep and held the back of my hand in front of her nose. I felt warm breath. Then she licked me. Her eyes opened.

  “Hello, Mr. Fowler,” she said. “Did you take care of everything at Esper?”

  I nodded dumbly, and quietly ho
lstered my gun. It occurred to me the stain on the carpet she was lying on had been there since we moved in. “What … happened?” I asked after a moment, gesturing vaguely toward the door.

  “Cops broke down the door,” I heard Roy say. I turned to see him entering the lobby from the back, carrying a bucket that appeared to be full of water. “Came through the front, the back, the roof. Must have been twenty of them. I’d have started shooting, but we didn’t have a chance. Figured if we didn’t resist, at least some of us might get out alive.” He put the bucket down in front of Bryn.

  “Thanks, Roy,” she said, and nuzzled his hand affectionately. She put her head in the bucket and began to lap up the water.

  “You did the right thing, Roy,” I said. To my right, Keane walked in, taking in the situation.

  “Yeah, well,” said Roy, “it didn’t do any good. They gathered us all together in the lobby. Me, Bryn, April, and Pavel. I knew what was coming next. None of us were getting out alive.”

  “So what happened?” I said.

  “All the sudden they backed off. Seemed like they got an order to stand down. Left without a word.”

  I glanced at Keane, and he gave me a knowing nod. Banerjee’s thugs had been there and let them live.

  Just then, April walked in, carrying several large bags. “I wasn’t sure what kind of salad you wanted, Bryn, so I got three Caesars and four—Blake!”

  “Good to see you, April,” I said. She dropped the bags and ran toward me. She threw her arms around my waist. “Easy!” I said, holding my injured arm out of the way.

  Roy emptied the bags April had dropped, revealing several sandwiches and an ungodly amount of salad. “Hungry, Bryn?” he said.

  “Famished,” Bryn replied.

  Roy opened the salad containers and set them down before Bryn, and she began munching enthusiastically at the greens. “God, this is good,” she said, without pausing in her mastication. The fact that the only thing that creeped me out about this scene was Bryn talking with her mouth full was a testament to just how far out of whack my sense of the uncanny had gotten over the past few days. I guess you can get used to just about anything eventually.