by Jason Austin
“Do you have any idea where he might be?”
“If I did, I certainly wouldn’t tell you. You’re a murderer.”
Glenda sighed, visibly wounded. It was the first time she'd actually been called a murderer...to her face. “I didn’t murder anyone, Dana. May I call you Dana?”
“No.” Dana answered hastily, almost before the question was finished.
Stupid thing to ask anyway, Glenda thought. Good thing she didn't have to make a living as a diplomat. Though, not many alleged fugitive, cop killers could.
Xavier took a solid look at Dana, overtly panning her. He waited for her to notice before saying anything. “Let’s go,” he said.
Glenda looked shocked. “What?”
“This was a mistake. A waste of time. She doesn’t trust us; she has no reason to.” He turned back to Glenda. “Kelmer may be on his own, but you’re not.” Then for dramatic effect, he said, “With any luck, we can get to him before they do. Come on.”
Xavier took Glenda’s arm and they made for the north exit as if there wasn’t a millisecond to spare. Thank goodness, Glenda didn’t blatantly protest. They hadn’t discussed much of a contingency if Dana refused to talk. Xavier knew his abrupt severing of the conversation would, at the very least, be confusing to Glenda, but it was all he could think of on the spot.
“Who are they?” Dana asked.
Xavier halted and looked back. “Whomever it is trying to kill us,” he answered. He then continued to walk Glenda down the hallway. Dana’s paralyzing ambivalence had been palpable. It was all in the timing now.
“Is it Millenitech?” Dana asked quailed, as if the walls had ears of their own.
Xavier and Glenda stopped cold. Xavier blew a sigh of relief that only Glenda could see as it whipped up the bangs of her new hairdo. She drove her nails into the back of his hand as they walked back. Jerk! Next time give a girl a little warning!
****
“I knew it. I knew something was wrong, but he wouldn’t tell me,” Dana said.
She and her “guests” had gathered in the lab module, drew chairs and sat in a semicircle. The lab was a farmed field of metal and microbes kept under controlled climates and constant monitoring. It was littered with microscopes, state-of-the-art computer terminals, centrifuges and scores of other high-tech tools that together put out enough magnetic interference to make all nearby radios, phones and comwatches a serious hassle. This actually made things a little calmer for Xavier. It occurred to him that if anyone were trying to keep tabs on Dana, they would have a hell of a time from outside the lab.
“What do you mean?” Xavier asked. “You knew what?”
Dana hugged herself. “It was that place, that Millenitech monster. It drained the life out of him. That Wallace was too demanding and too stifling. He pressured Richard about everything. Had him working like a slave. He even had him commuting back and forth from upstate at some sort of advanced research center. I tried to help as much as I could, to take some of the load off, but eventually it just became too much and Richard left the university.”
“Have you spoken to him recently?” Glenda asked.
“Yes,” Dana said hesitantly. “He called me at about the same time too, four days ago. He sounded nervous, like you said. Only he told me even less. Just said he would be unavailable. I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but I was afraid to pry. Richard is very adamant about keeping to himself. He has a hard time letting people in.”
Glenda's ears pricked up. Was that a hint of regret in that last observation? Don't tell me Xavier picked up on it before me.
“Did he mention Glenda to you at all?” Xavier asked.
Dana looked embarrassed by the question. “He said...he thought she was pretty.”
Now, Glenda looked embarrassed.
“Actually, I meant when he called,” Xavier said, graciously as possible. “He never mentioned anything about someone wanting to hurt her?”
“No. Her name didn't even come up,” Dana said.
“What about him?” Xavier held to his openness with Dana. She wouldn’t respect less. “Is there a chance he might have a grudge against her...for whatever reason?”
Dana professionally tempered her offense. “No,” she answered with her nose in the air. “Richard is kind and decent and he doesn't hurt people. He helps them.”
Xavier softened his eyes and brought his voice to a perfect and velvety baritone. “I'm not asking you as a scientist. I'm asking you as a woman.”
Dana blushed openly. The man's charms were working, but Richard was still her priority. “Like I said, Richard’s life’s work was about helping people, not hurting them. I would think you would have at least known that before you came here.” She averted her eyes. She believed every word she had said, but had “polished” her statement just so. She knew Richard better than most, but there was still adequate room for doubt about his overall lifestyle.
“Dana, can you tell us where he is?” Glenda asked.
“No,” Dana answered quickly.
Glenda looked thoughtful. “Look, I know, Dr. Kelmer, too. And I feel the same way about him as you do.”
“You couldn’t possibly,” Dana said tartly. She bit her tongue, looking away.
Glenda recognized the attitude right off. She, too, had a tendency to become rabid whenever someone spoke ill or challenged her feelings for a particular man. Xavier did notice it first. Way to go, Dr. Freud. Most men wouldn’t have caught something like that with a baseball mitt.
“Dana, you can’t imagine what I’ve gone through these past few days,” Glenda said. “If Richard was trying to warn me about something and someone else found that out, they may be involved with his disappearance. You seem to be someone who cares about him a lot. It would really help me and Richard, if you could give us, at least, some idea of where he is.”
Dana stared back at Glenda straight on. “I don’t know where he is.”
Glenda paused for a moment then stood up. She stepped away from both Dana and Xavier, glazed over, looking like she was trying to run numbers in her head. When it looked like she’d gotten the answer, she stopped. “Oh, my god,” she said. “I’m going to die.”
Xavier bared his teeth. “Like hell, you are,” he said fuming. He had seen this before. In the field. Openly declaring yourself to be doomed was a type of defense mechanism against insanity. The mind seeks to accept the inevitability so it doesn’t make you crazy with fear.
Xavier sped over to Glenda, lifted her face by both hands and riveted his eyes to hers. “You are not going to die, Glenda Jameson. I won’t let that happen. Do you understand me? I won’t let anything happen to you. I swear it.”
Dana was abashed. Richard had certainly never looked at her that way. She'd never given him reason. But was it real? she asked herself. She wanted to believe them, but what if she was wrong? If she was being manipulated Richard would pay the price. If she did nothing and they were telling the truth Richard would pay the price.
She finally sighed in defeat. “I think I might have...an idea where he might be.”
Glenda looked over at Dana with wide eyes. The hierarchy of Feminine Future Perfect had always held that one should never underestimate the power of female communion...or maybe Glenda was just that good an actress.
Dana proceeded to tell the couple of a house in the hills of Seattle, Washington, the knowledge of which Kelmer disclosed to Dana during an atypically mellow moment. Apparently, he had a habit of sequestering himself there whenever he needed to shut out the rigmarole and concentrate on a particularly elusive formula or calculation. According to Dana, the house was actually a leading edge engineering project designed by Richard’s uncle, John Kelmer, a genius environmental engineer and physicist. The tireless efforts of environmentalist politicians had just barely won John funding to design and construct a new type of solar battery that could supply the power needs for a modern twenty-first century home. The project would have been leaps and bounds beyond the shabby yurt-like d
wellings that occupied the southwest—although, strides had been made in improving those constructs—and would contain far more than the standard contemporary amenities. Most remarkably, it would be built in one of the rainiest parts of the country, where direct sunlight was in short supply.
“I've never heard of such a project,” Glenda said. “You'd think something like that would make news.”
“It frightened all the wrong people,” Dana replied. “Power company lobbyists are a carnivorous lot. They shut the project down before it could be completed.”
“How did he gain access to it?” Xavier asked.
“He never said,” Dana answered.
Xavier rolled his eyes. “Well, I always wanted to see the Space Needle.”
Chapter 38
The earliest flight Glenda and Xavier could find, and that wouldn't leave them busted, was a red-eye to SeaTac that didn't leave for another eight hours. They decided unanimously to put the spare time to use by catching up on their sleep. Neither one of them had slept very much their first night in the trailer. The calls Glenda made earlier that day had put Xavier on guard, in particular. He fretted about getting caught with his pants down since there was an off chance her inquiries had alerted her pursuers—whomever they were—to he and Glenda's location. He kept his suspicions to himself, however, seeing no benefit to worrying Glenda beyond all hope.
Xavier resituated himself against the wall adjacent to the bed. The trailer's bathtub was officially out of the question. He had slept quite comfortably in bathtubs before, but this one rejected him. He had complained of a drip, but it was actually his lack of proximity to Glenda that kept him awake. Apparently, it was also far easier to tolerate cold, hard surfaces when you’re passed-out-drunk. Xavier was seated in an upright position, his neck cradled in a pillow. A single sheet was draped over the lower two-thirds of his body. He was holding Hamilton Bowen's gun, familiarizing himself with it. MAG technology had evolved significantly in the few short years since Xavier had seen combat. And he couldn't deny being a bit of a gun nut; most soldiers were to one degree or another. Xavier was impressed that a round no bigger than a pencil tip could hit nearly twice as hard as a standard .44 caliber bullet; although, there were notable trade-offs when it came to magazine size. The gun's clip was designed to load into a varied caliber of MAG. This was because the nature of MAGs—unlike revolvers or semiautomatics that still had a place in the ever-changing world of firearms—required more than just reloading of ammunition; any added convenience made a considerable difference. A standard MAG clip contained anywhere from eighteen to forty magnetically charged rounds, a replacement set of micro-rails and a fresh power supply. Depending on the weapon, the latter two could be separated from the clip and reserved for instances of greater power demand. All that considered, it was no wonder they amounted to more than half the gun's weight. Xavier's particular weapon held twenty-six rounds and was calibrated for medium velocity. Not exactly what they were trained with in basic, but similar enough. He wanted to practice breaking down the gun and reassembling it in a timed run, but the noise would disturb Glenda. Furthermore, if anyone came itching for a fight during off-peak hours, he didn't want their only means of defense scattered in pieces about the floor. Eventually, Xavier stretched out and just set the gun by his hip. He then dimmed the light and shut his eyes, hoping against hope to drift off.
“What’s a matter you?” Xavier asked with eyelids closed. He could hear Glenda shifting in bed and had a sensation of disquieted eyes upon him.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said.
“You didn’t. I’m not having much luck myself.”
“This stinks; I’m tired, but I can’t sleep. That flight is gonna be a bitch.”
“Your mind’s racing, huh?”
“Isn’t yours?”
“Yeah.”
“So you’re not indestructible?”
Xavier’s eyes popped open, with a “say-what?” look on his face. “I wasn’t aware I’d given you the impression I was.”
“I might be overstating it a bit. It’s just that you seem to be handling this so much better than me; like it’s second nature.”
“Oh, man, have I got you fooled.”
Xavier sat up, bracing his back against the wall and hung his forearms across his bent knees. Glenda’s gaze made him uneasy. Her eyes were like truth serum. Trying to hold something back from her—even a little insecurity—was like trying to cap an active volcano with a wine cork.
“God knows I wouldn’t want to say anything to dissuade your confidence in me,” he said. “But the fact of the matter is...” He paused long, shaking his head. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
Glenda looked at him as if she didn’t understand English.
“I’m not a cop. I have absolutely no authority to lord over anyone, and I have no game plan. I’m playing this just as much by ear as you are. I’m making it up as we go along.” He nervously massaged his shins.
“I'm a drunk,” he said directly. “And whenever I've tried to accomplish something worthwhile in my life I've failed. Then I took those failures and made them worse. And that’s what scared me before.”
“Before?”
“You know, when I said all that...stuff in the park. I wasn't mad at you for what you said. I was mad at myself because, for no matter how short a time, I'd allowed myself to forget what I was. I shouldn't have had to be reminded...rudely or otherwise.” Xavier's head fell over like a top that had run out of spin. “I’ve never been much good to anyone other than a bartender's accountant.”
“Are you crazy? That’s not true. I wouldn’t even be alive if it weren’t for you.”
“I think you give me too much credit.”
“Credit, hell; it’s a fact.”
Xavier looked up at her like he'd caught her in a lie. “You don’t fool me, you know,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“You women always want men to think you’re either tough as nails or delicate little daffodils. I know the tough type when I see it. I’d even wager you got some serious pulp fiction material in your past somewhere.”
Glenda smiled and nodded. “Ah, ha, ha. And I’d wager you’re dying to hear it.”
“I was only teasing.”
Glenda looked thoughtful and her cheeks pinked over. “You know that spot I was hunkered into at the Metropark that night?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Well, that wasn't the first time I'd parked in that spot. That’s how I knew nobody would see me.”
“What do you mean?”
Glenda paused, debating whether or not to continue. “When I was sixteen I was spending my summer vacation from school with my grandparents who lived just a few miles from the park. I met this guy named Gunner. Oh, he was so perfect—curly blond hair, tanned skin, bright blue eyes. Funny, I never considered myself going for the Nordic type. I thought I was so in love. Anyway, I guess I was going through this...thing when I was at that age. I wasn’t sure who or what I was or something like that. And I...I talked him into stealing a car.”
Xavier chuckled. “So, he stole a car to impress a girl. I’ve heard worse. Shit, I've done worse.”
“Well, actually....” Glenda tensed. “I stole it.”
“You stole a car?”
“It wasn’t like I hot-wired it or anything. The keys were left inside and he’d gotten me kind of excited so...”
“What do you mean, he got you excited?”
Glenda turned sheepish. “He was more experienced than I was. He had a reputation with the girls that was well-earned. One night, we were making out and, like I said, I thought I was in love with him. He started telling me this fantasy he had about making love outdoors.”
Xavier pressed his shoulders harder against the wall. He hadn't predicted the direction of the story.
“I suddenly wanted to know what it was like to be daring and imaginative and uninhibited like he was,” Glenda said. “So when I saw the keys
in the ignition, I convinced him to take it. We drove up to that same spot in the park before it closed and...'parked'. We threw a blanket we found in the back seat on the ground and used the car as cover. It was...”
“I get it,” Xavier said. He paused and then laughed a little.
Glenda went bug-eyed and raised up on her elbow. She wasn't sure what to expect in the way of a response, although a hint of arousal on his part would have been nice. “Are you laughing at me?” she asked.
“No. I’m admiring you.”
Glenda smirked, humorously puzzled.
“You’re hard not to like,” Xavier said. “I think if I had a sister, I’d want her to be just like you.”
Glenda shook her head. Now how in the hell was she supposed to take that? What kind of man says something that could both charm the shit out of her and bring her crashing back to earth in one sentence? She looked thoughtful again.
“Did you mean what you said?” she asked quietly.
“Absolutely, I never had a sister, but...”
“No,” Glenda interrupted, tempering the room’s mood as easily as dimming the light. “I meant before...back at Roxxon?”
Xavier eventually undid himself from the wall and moved to the bed. He didn’t give any thought to being so close to Glenda; the distraction would make what he had to say that much harder. He sank his elbows into the mattress and closed in on her. He had to grip his wrists to keep from touching her.
“Glenda, I don’t know what’s going to happen,” he said, “but I promise you, I give you my word, that whatever we find, and no matter how this turns out, I’ll be there with you every step of the way. Whoever or whatever it is that wants to get to you...is going to have to go through me.”
Glenda felt the thrill of surrender quickly course through her body. There was only one place this could lead now. Whatever Xavier was going to do next...she’d let him. Just let him do...whatever he wanted. She commanded his eyes to hers and waited...and waited...and waited.