Bloodline

by F. Paul Wilson

  “Can’t you just white out the Creighton part?”

  “That’s not going to help you. No names are mentioned on the report. The specimens are referred to by number only.”

  “Well, can’t you put names in? Not Bolton, of course—use Bethlehem instead.”

  “The computer won’t accept names in the specimen ID fields. Of course you can say the numbers refer to Bethlehem and Mrs. Pickering.”

  “Nah, that’s not going to convince Dawn that she’s dating her uncle. The numbers could mean anybody.”

  Damn. Jack needed something. Even if Christy believed him—and that might not be an easy sell—she’d want to be able to prove it to Dawn.

  He pointed his fork at Levy. “Look. Christy’s trying to split up Bolton and her daughter. Simply dropping the brother bomb won’t be enough. It’s not going to mean a thing without documentation.”

  Christy had already derailed her own credibility with Dawn. Coming up with a wild story about Bethlehem being a blood relative but then being unable to prove it would not put it back on track.

  Levy said, “If you want to help split them up, find a way to put Bolton back under lock and key.”

  “Easier said than done.”

  Especially when Jack had to work from the wings. Whatever happened to Bolton had to look like bad luck.

  “Let’s just say he’s exposed. Where does that land you folks at Creighton?”

  Levy shrugged. “All part of a government program. The fallout is the agency’s problem. They’ll handle it. They’re good at that.” He leaned forward. “Look, if you want documentation, let Mrs. Pickering drop the brother bomb, as you call it, and then challenge Bolton to prove she’s lying. They can go to any commercial lab and run a paternity test. It will show they both have the same father. That way, you’re out of it and so is Creighton.”

  Yeah, but would any of this be enough to break them up? Jack doubted it. He had a feeling it was going to take a lot more. Something really major.

  But what?

  3

  “Come on now, darlin. You know you want to know.”

  “I do know. You had a vasectomy so it can’t be.”

  They stood in the upstairs bathroom. Jeremy waved the home pregnancy test kit before her eyes like a hypnotist. He’d picked it up about an hour ago at the local Duane Reade. Now he had to convince Dawn to use it.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time something went wrong with a vasectomy.”

  Tears rimmed her baby blues as they fixed on the package like it was a cobra or something.

  “You’re starting to scare me, Jerry.”

  “Don’t be scared now. Just get a little pee and see.” He grinned. “Hear that? I’m a poet. Come on now—pee and see.”

  She snatched the package from his hand and pushed him toward the door.

  “All right, all right! But you’re not watching me pee. Nobody watches me pee.”

  He put on a hurt expression. “Not even me?”

  “Especially you. Now get out of here while I do my business.”

  Jeremy stepped back and let her close the door. As soon as the latch clicked he raised his fists and punched the air.

  Yes! It was gonna be positive. Had to be.

  He waited, pacing like an expectant father. Hell, in a way he was an expectant father—father to be. He hoped.

  His pits were soaked, his palms were so wet they were gonna start dripping soon. His whole life had been pointed toward this moment. Had some unexpected detours along the way—Creighton being one hell of a detour—but here he was, right where he was meant to be. But had he done what he was meant to do?

  He waited near the door till he heard a flush inside, then backed away. Dawn came out holding a little wand, staring at it.

  “It says we’ve got to wait. It turns either red or blue. If it turns blue…” Her voice choked off.

  “What?”

  “Blue is yes.” She shook her head. “I don’t believe I’m doing this. I…oh, shit!” She dropped the wand and buried her face in her hands. “Oh-shit-oh-shit-oh-shit!”

  Jeremy swooped down and picked it up: Blue.

  Yes!

  He felt suddenly boneless. He leaned against the wall. He needed to sit down. But the feeling lasted only a few seconds. Then a wild mix of joy and pride exploded within, energizing him.

  He’d done it! He’d damn fuck done it! He’d completed the touchiest, most difficult—and therefore the most important—part of Daddy’s Plan. He wanted to run and tell Hank, wanted to jump around and whoop and scream in a crazy victory dance. But he resisted. Plenty of time for both later. Right now he had to deal with Dawn.

  “There, there, darlin,” he said, slipping his arms around her and holding her tight against him. “No need to cry. We should be celebratin.”

  She looked up at him with a blotchy, tear-streaked face. She wasn’t a beauty to begin with, but she looked downright homely now. But looks didn’t matter in this case. All that mattered right now was what she was carrying inside her.

  “Celebrating? I’m pregnant! This wasn’t supposed to happen!”

  “Look at it this way: It’s a miracle.”

  “No, it’s a mistake, that’s what it is. The test’s got to be wrong.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  But Jeremy knew different. He knew all about pregnancy tests. He’d used them before, lots of them. But that had been pre-Creighton. These new ones were much better and accurate much earlier. Lots fewer false negatives.

  Dawn backed away a step and wiped her face.

  “I’m going down to the drug store and pick up a different kind—no, two different kinds. And then we’ll see.” Jeremy watched her shake her fists in the air just like he’d done minutes before, but with a different feeling. “I can’t believe this!”

  Jeremy kept his voice calm. “Worse things in the world, darlin.”

  She stared at him with narrowed eyes. “Hey, wait a minute! Is this the same guy who told me he got a vasectomy because he didn’t want to bring kids into this screwed-up world?”

  “Yes, I did. I surely did. And I really and truly felt that way. But all that changed when I met you.”

  Her face softened. “Oh…that’s so sweet. But I can’t be pregnant! I just can’t!”

  You are, Dawnie-babes. You are.

  “Maybe not,” he told her. “But if you are, don’t you think it’s like a miracle?” She opened her mouth to reply but he rushed on. “I mean, don’t you see the hand of god in this?”

  “If you’re talking about a virgin birth, I’ve got news for you—”

  “No, I mean, you believe in god, don’t you?”

  He knew she did. Jeremy didn’t. At least not in her god.

  “Of course.”

  “Well, then, you can almost see his hand in this, can’t you. I never wanted to have kids, then I meet you and start wishing I hadn’t had a vasectomy because we’re so perfect together and you’d make such a great mother, and now look what’s happened.”

  “I’m not pregnant!” She started crying again. “I can’t be! I’m not ready! And then there’s the game—”

  He hugged her tighter. “That’s the great thing about software, darlin. You can do it from home.”

  She pulled away and headed for the stairs.

  “I’m going down to the drugstore. When I get back we’ll do it again, and then you’ll see.”

  No, Dawn. You’ll see.

  And then would come the tough part. Once she was convinced she was pregnant he had to work on her to get behind having the baby and want it as much as he did.

  Yeah, well, she’d never want it that much, and he could never ever tell her the whole story—man, would she freak!—but he’d have to convince her how special this baby was going to be.

  That might not be so easy, but hell, she’d bought into everything else he’d told her. Why not that?

  But more important, he had to keep an eye on Dawn, stay with her, watch her every
minute. He had to protect the baby.

  4

  “Laurie! A round for the house! On me!”

  Jack had been sitting in Work and sipping a draft pint while pretending to read a copy of Kick. He looked up and glanced around at the sound of Bolton’s voice.

  He’d been starting to think he’d been wasting his time, that Bolton would be persona non grata here after the fight, but apparently he wasn’t the type to be easily deterred.

  One good way to assuage hard feelings was to buy a round for the house.

  Bolton had a distinctly unhappy-looking Dawn in tow. He spotted Jack on his way by, nodded, but didn’t stop. Now he stood surveying the room as the two dozen or so habitués bellied up to the bar for a freebie.

  Jack stayed where he was, watching Dawn. She stood at his side, holding a cola of some sort and looking embarrassed and red-eyed, as if she’d been crying. Trouble in paradise? If so, and if he could find out what it was, maybe—

  “All right, everybody,” Bolton said, holding a bottle of Bud aloft. “I want you all to meet my lady, Dawn.”

  Dawn’s face reddened as the crowd murmured ragged hellos.

  “I just want to let all of you know that today Dawn has made me the happiest man in the world.”

  Oh, shit. They’re getting married? Christy would—

  “Because today I found out that she’s going to make me a daddy!”

  Dawn turned crimson as everyone shouted their congratulations. Jack could only stare at the beaming Bolton as he lifted his glass higher.

  “To Dawn!”

  The crowd echoed the words and drank—all except Jack and Dawn. Her expression said loud and clear that she wasn’t into this pregnancy. He had a feeling she’d be even less into it when she learned the father of her baby was her uncle.

  And Christy…if he’d thought she’d go ballistic at the idea of a wedding, she’d be off the charts with the pregnancy, especially when she learned—

  Then he noticed a grinning Bolton coming his way, dragging Dawn by the hand.

  “Hey, Joe? Y’hear?”

  “Sure did.” Jack raised his glass and let Bolton clink his against it. “Congrats, man. And to you too, young lady.” Dawn only nodded.

  Bolton said, “This here’s Joe Henry, darlin. Met him the other day. He’s a gamer and a good one too.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Jack said. The next words resisted being spoken but Jack forced them out: “With you two as parents you gotta know it’s gonna be a beautiful baby.”

  Pardon me while I find a shovel.

  “More than beautiful—special. Special in so many, many ways.” He pointed to the book lying on the table in front of Jack. “He’ll never have to be dissimilated because he’ll never be assimilated. A kick-ass Kicker from the git-go.”

  Jack tapped the stick figure on the cover. “Right on!”

  “Ain’t you finished that yet? You must be a slow reader.”

  “I’m studying every word. I can’t tell you how much I’m enjoying it.”

  Jack glanced at Dawn’s midsection. He now understood the “project,” the “mission” Bolton had mentioned. Was this the “Key” he’d spoken of?

  He shifted his gaze to Bolton himself and wondered what the hell was going on in his head. Then he finished his beer and rose to his feet.

  “Wish I could hang around for the party, Jerry, but I’ve got places I’ve gotta be.”

  “Sure I can’t buy you another beer?”

  “Have to take a rain check.”

  Jack’s plan had been to meet up with Bolton here and hang with him in an attempt to find out what he was up to and where he thought he was headed…glean a little more info before his meeting with Christy. The impending-fatherhood announcement had made that unnecessary.

  It also had made Jack dread seeing Christy.

  But he had an important call to make before he met her.

  5

  “Are you on a cell phone?” Levy said when he came on the line.

  Jack leaned against the side of an open booth on Queens Boulevard. It had taken him a long time to find a public phone. They used to be everywhere. Now…

  “I’m in one of the last telephone booths in Queens. Just listen. You know the fellow we’re interested in—the one dating the young girl?”

  Levy’s tone was cautious. “Yes.”

  “Well, she’s pregnant, and our friend is the father.”

  A pause, then a gasp. “Dear God, if she inherited her mother’s…” He seemed to be searching for a code word, a neutral term, anything but oDNA. “Her mother’s…”

  “Special sauce?”

  “We’re not talking about a hamburger!”

  “In a way, we are.”

  An exasperated sigh. “I don’t believe this. Very well. If she inherited her mother’s special sauce, and that combines with our friend’s special sauce, then—”

  “Then we wind up with one hell of a Big Mac.”

  “Yes…yes, we do.”

  “That’s got to be what he’s been looking to do all along: create a super sauce.”

  “You think this is intentional?”

  “He went looking for this particular girl. What else can I think? This is kind of scary.”

  “Yes and no. Here’s the thing: The girl might not have inherited her mother’s special sauce. You don’t inherit a carbon copy of your mother’s genome; only half. The other half comes from your father. So there’s always a chance the girl is sauce free.”

  “Unless, of course, the girl’s father was heavy on the sauce.”

  “Yes. In that case the odds of inheriting a large portion of the sauce increase dramatically. Dramatically. You must learn who the father was and where we can find him.”

  “And if I do?”

  “Then you obtain a sample of his, um, sauce and we find out what we’re dealing with.”

  “And if I can’t?”

  “Then get a sample of the girl’s so we can see how much she’s carrying. If she missed out, then the experiment was a failure—thank God.”

  Something in Levy’s tone bothered Jack.

  “You sound upset.”

  “I am. There’s genetic manipulation going on here—it’s old-fashioned, barnyard-style breeding, but genetic manipulation nonetheless—and I want to know why. Someone has a purpose here, and I want to know what it is. Because that special sauce is potentially explosive. It’s TNT, which is dangerous enough. But this makes me start to think that someone has spent generations trying to make an atom bomb.”

  To blow up what? Jack wondered. Who or what was the target?

  6

  “No!” Christy cried, feeling her heart leap into her throat. “That’s not possible!”

  They sat together on the front seat of her Mercedes, parked along the northern end of Meadow Lake, a peaceful haven hunkered between the roaring ribbons of the LIE, Grand Central Parkway, and the Van Wyck Express-way. Jack had thought it better if he stayed away from her house. He’d said Bolton, and now Dawn, knew what he looked like and either of them seeing him entering or leaving Christy’s house would greatly complicate the investigation.

  He’d said he had news, but she never dreamed…Jerry Bethlehem…her half brother? It was crazy!

  “I’m afraid it’s true.”

  She studied Jack’s face. Was he up to something? Pulling some sort of sleazy scam?

  But no. She sensed genuine reluctance in him. He hadn’t wanted to be the one to tell her.

  Her tongue tasted like tin.

  “But…how?”

  “The usual way, I assume.”

  Not funny.

  “No, damn it! Where did you find out? How did you find out? And why did you even check?”

  “I knew from my talk with Bethlehem at Work the other day that his father’s name was Jonah and that he had one eye.”

  That rocked her. One eye…her father had worn an eye patch. At least that was what she’d been told. But millions of people had lost an eye.<
br />
  “So?”

  “When I spoke to you yesterday you said your mother told you your father was swallowed by a whale.”

  And there it was, smacking her in the face.

  “Oh, God…Jonah.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. And since, as I told you, I was looking for some sort of connection between you and Bethlehem, that sent up a bright red flare.”

  “But you never said anything.”

  “Because I thought it was such a long shot, I didn’t dare. Otherwise you’d have been looking at me like you were a moment ago—ready to call the booby squad.”

  “But how did you get a sample of—?”

  “You left some hair behind at Julio’s.”

  “And Bethlehem?”

  “I snagged a spoon from Work.”

  She couldn’t be certain but he seemed a little less sure of himself than before. Was that true? Could you get a DNA sample from a used spoon?

  “I still can’t believe this. Where’s the lab report?”

  He looked out the window. “I don’t have it.”

  “What? Then how do you know?”

  “Verbal confirmation. Hard copy will follow, but that won’t help you. The samples are numbered on the report for confidentiality. Some sort of law.”

  “Then it could be a mistake.”

  It had to be a mistake.

  He looked at her now. “The guy who did the test told me flat-out that the two specimens I gave him came from people with the same father but different mothers.”

  Christy closed her eyes and held her breath to keep from sobbing. This was getting worse and worse.

  “How can something like this happen? I mean, what are the odds of my half brother coming to town and just happening to pick up on—?” She jolted upright and stared at him. “Unless he knows! Oh, Jesus, do you think he knows?”

  “I’m almost sure he does. The odds of this happening by accident are astronomical.”

  “But why? I knew he was bent, but what possible reason could he have for dating his niece?”

  “It has to be something in your past. And since you don’t know Bethlehem, the only thing I can think of is some beef with Dawn’s father.”