“Oh shit.”
“Exactly. So Darwin created a phony mission and produced enough of Harry’s body to convince everyone you’d been killed.”
My heart sank.
I said, “And this was more than three years ago, and no one ever told Kathleen any different.”
Lou remained silent.
“And Kimberly and Addie—they watched my burial.”
“I’m sorry, Donovan,” Lou said.
Nadine moved to my side, placed a reassuring hand on my arm. She said, “As they explained it to me, it was the only way to protect Kathleen and Addie.”
“Not to mention Sensory Resources,” I said.
“That too,” Lou said.
I rolled it around in my head a few minutes, trying to find a way to make it work for me. Of course they had to kill me off . In their shoes, I’d have done the same. Okay, so I’d lost three years. No problem, I’d just have to come back from the dead. I could kill Tara’s friends before they knew I was alive, then break the good news to my loved ones. Nadine could be helpful with that part. I’d tell Kathleen and Kimberly everything, make a full confession. Then I’d retire. It could work, I reasoned. I could still salvage my relationship with Kathleen.
“How did I die?” I said.
“Excuse me?” Nadine said.
“Harry’s body wouldn’t have fooled the people that knew me well. They couldn’t say I had a heart attack.”
Lou sighed. “This sounds so much worse when I say it out loud,” he said.
I waited.
“Aw Christ, Donovan,” Lou said. “Harry got thrown off a highrise.”
No one spoke for a long time. We didn’t need to; Nadine’s expression said it all.
“On the bright side,” I said, “I look like a movie star.”
Nadine said, “You’re taking this awfully well. Are you sure you understand the complexity of the situation?”
“Pardon the pun, but I’m trying to put my best face forward.”
“He’s facing his fears,” Lou said, “putting on a brave face.”
“Well,” said Nadine, flashing a smile, “I think it’s time to face the facts.”
I returned the smile. “Good one,” I said. “For a shrink.”
“We can start with your new name,” she said.
That wiped the smile off my face. “My what?”
Chapter 44
“Conner Payne,” Lou said.
“A sissy name.”
“Blame Darwin,” he said. “Still, it’s better than the last one he gave you.”
“Cosmo Burlap?”
Lou chuckled.
Nadine said, “This just occurred to me, but what about all your bank accounts, investments, legal papers, and so forth?”
“Everything is in my legal name.”
“Your legal name. So Donovan Creed—”
“Was my third name.”
“You people are insane,” Nadine said.
“That your professional opinion?”
“Don’t start with me,” she said.
Dr. Howard entered the room and injected something into my IV.
“Did you just give me a sedative?”
“You’ve been through a lot today,” he said.
“You’re at least going to let me try to walk…”
He sighed. “The natural tendency with these things is to try to make up the time you’ve lost right away. But it’s much more complicated than that. Your brain shut down for a reason, and we need to find out what it was, so we can prevent a recurrence. In the meantime, relax, take it easy, and understand you’ve got all the time in the world.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“Look, we’re trying to avoid a blood clot here,” he said, “or worse. Don’t worry, I’ve been ordered to get you moving as fast as possible, so your rehab is going to be supervised by the best in the business. You’ve waited this long, what’s another day?”
“You contact them yet?”
“They’re on their way.”
“Okay.” I gave him a mock salute.
Nadine said, “How is it you’re completely lucid after being knocked out with a sedative?”
“I test weapons for the military.”
“So?”
“Sedatives are like candy to me.”
“Wait. You test weapons?”
“Uh huh.”
“What sort of weapons?”
“Death rays, psychotic drugs, torture devices, live viruses, that sort of thing.”
She gave Lou an exasperated look. “I can’t believe I wasn’t told this before. How do you expect me to do my job if you won’t tell me what I need to know?”
“You’re the psychiatrist,” Lou said. “How would we know what you need to know?”
“To think that fourteen years ago I had a legitimate practice,” she mumbled.
“Why’d you give it up?” I said.
She shook her head. “When your government calls you into service, you tend to believe they can’t save the world without your help.”
“I’ve heard that lecture myself. Many times.”
Chapter 45
“The difference between a good man and a bad one,” Nadine said, “has nothing to do with their jobs or the choices they make. What matters is the motivation—why they do what they do.”
“You are so in the tank for Sensory,” I said. “They must have paid you a queen’s ransom.”
“I won’t deny the paycheck, and I’ll leave it to you whether I sold out. But I’ve spent a lot of years learning about this agency, and I have to say, I believe in what you’re doing.”
“What I used to do.”
“What you were born to do.”
Dr. Nadine Crouch had been trying to reprogram me for days. Today she wore an ebony jacket and matching skirt over a white crepe blouse.
“You’re wearing long sleeves again,” I said. “Is it winter?”
She pursed her lips. “I must try to keep in mind how difficult this is for you. No, it’s Spring,” she said, “and I always wear long sleeves. When you’re my age, the arms have a tendency to sag.”
“You’ve got bingo arms?” I said.
“I beg your pardon?”
I laughed, thinking about it. “Like when the old ladies at the bingo parlor hold their cards over their heads and yell ‘Bingo!’”
“That’s a harsh observation.”
“Oh, please.”
“You’ll be old someday. See how funny it is then,” she snapped.
“Hey, I was just kidding around. There’s nothing wrong with your arms.” I grinned. “Or your legs, for that matter.”
“Let’s just get back to the topic at hand,” she said, trying not to smile.
She’d been showing me dozens of news articles depicting senseless, tragic deaths, in an attempt to convince me that innocent people die every day, and they’re going to die whether I kill them or not.
“I’m done with this,” I said.
“This is who you are,” she said. “You’re a tragic hero.”
“Me? A hero? You mean, like Superman?”
“Like Joan of Arc.”
“I remind you of a chick? Must be my sissy new name.”
“Fine, forget Joan. A tragic hero is an inherently noble, extraordinary person. He has a greatness about him that makes him seem almost super-human to others, and a purpose that serves mankind. He sacrifices his life for a great cause or principle.”
“I sense a however coming.”
“However, he has a fatal flaw that ultimately brings about his destruction.”
“And mine is?”
“Somewhere along the way, you’ve lost your ability to remain detached.”
“Have you met Callie?”
“I have, many times. She visits you regularly.”
“And Quinn?”
“Not so regularly.”
I nodded. “Quinn is very detached,” I said.
“I know you consider
him a friend, so I’ll refrain from criticism.”
“I can’t believe Darwin hired you to reprogram me. Wait—yes I can. But how does that sit with you? I mean, you treated me as a patient. Do you really feel it’s ethical to brainwash me into killing people?”
“I’ll say it’s appropriate. As for your use of the word ‘brainwashing,’ I’m not going to split hairs over terminology.”
I’d used the term on purpose, trying to get a rise out of her. But she didn’t bite. I said, “Nadine, you’re the most honest professional person I’ve ever met.”
“It helps to believe in the cause.”
“You know about Monica Childers?”
“I do. She was the catalyst, the one that put the wedge of doubt in your mind.”
“You’re very good at what you do, Nadine.”
“Not as good as you,” she said.
I kept my eyes fixed on hers until she blinked. “You’re a psychiatrist,” I said. You’re supposed to stand for something. You seriously expect me to believe you want me to keep killing innocent people?”
“Your issues with innocence started with Victor, and they’ll end the moment you stop working for him.”
“It’s good money,” I said, though I had already made the decision to stop.
“You took the work for one reason. And I’ll wait for you to tell me what it is.”
I already knew. “There was too much hang time,” I said, “between the killings.”
Nadine’s eyes misted briefly. She patted my hand. “This is one of the three reasons it’s worth giving up my practice to work with people like you.”
“What are the other two?”
“Money and Joan.”
“Joan of Arc again?”
“You remember the first time we met, the pictures on my desk?”
“The two Japanese-American boys your sister adopted?”
“You have a prodigious memory,” she said.
“For me it was a month ago.”
“Joan was my sister. On the morning of September 11, 2001, she worked on the top floor of the World Trade Center.”
I winced. “I’m sorry,” I said.
“She called her husband that morning, but he was busy with a client. She called me, terrified, but I was busy with a patient. She tried to leave me a message, but her phone went dead.”
“You feel somehow responsible?”
“Of course not. But it shouldn’t have happened. And when it did, I should have been there for her.”
“And now you want revenge.”
She shook her head. “Revenge is a waste of emotion.”
“But you want me to prevent it from happening again, even though innocent people will die. Sounds to me like you have a fatal fl aw. You can’t remain detached from what happened to your sister.”
“Let’s keep this about you,” she said. “You’re a soldier, a man of action. You can’t survive in captivity.”
“By captivity you mean settling down, raising a family?”
“You tried it before, with Janet and Kimberly. Didn’t you learn anything? Your domestication only served to torment the people you love.”
“You think you know me—”
“We both know you. You’re an eagle. Eagles don’t flock. They can’t be domesticated. They do not thrive in captivity.”
“You must be the worst marriage counselor in the world,” I said.
“Quit working for Victor. Get your mind back in the game.”
“My country needs me, eh?”
“Not to make a cliché out of it, but yes, we do.”
“What about Sal?”
“Sal Bonadello?”
“Do you object to my working for him?”
Nadine took some time to weigh the question. She sighed. “I suppose not.” She saw my eyebrows rise in disbelief and added, “Sal’s jobs keep you sharp. In the end, what’s it to society if tomorrow morning we all wake up and find there’s one less bit of scum on the pond?”
“Nadine, you’re an astonishingly bad psychotherapist.”
“That’s entirely possible, but it doesn’t change who you are, or what you were meant to do.”
“Nevertheless,” I said, “I aim to quit the business, marry Kathleen, and help her raise Addie.”
She said nothing.
“You’re disappointed in me,” I said.
“Not true. As for marrying Kathleen, if that’s your motivation for getting strong and healthy, it’s as good as any.”
Chapter 46
I’d been warned that the physical therapy would be agonizing. Instead, it was thrilling. Every stabbing pain made me feel alive, eager for more. Dr. Howard kept trying to back me off the weights and leg machines, but I was relentless, having set a goal to be in Kathleen’s arms within ten days. Nadine was just as relentless in her attempt to keep me out of “captivity,” but what could she do? In a competition for my soul, Kathleen would always win.
One day Nadine walked into my room and turned off the CPM machine that had been flexing and extending my knees.
“Conner,” she said, “there’s someone here to see you.”
My heart raced. “Kathleen?”
She shook her head. “If you choose Kathleen, you’ll have to approach her on your own.”
“So who’s here?”
I heard the electric whir before I saw him.
“Good to…see you…Mr. Payne…you’re…looking…well.”
“Hello, Victor. Where’s Hugo?”
“He’s…in the…corridor…with…someone.”
“You don’t seem surprised to see me alive.”
“Curly…told me…you were…alive.”
“And you’ve not told anyone all this time? Not even Sal?”
“It was…not my…business…to tell…anyone.”
“Who wound up killing the couple from Nashville?”
“No one…I termi…nated…the pro…ject…after you…got here.”
“And you’re here to talk me into coming back to work for you?”
“No, I’m…part of…your…therapy…Dr. Crouch…wanted…me to…show you… something.”
“Then do so.”
Victor was a quadriplegic, which means his paralysis affects all four limbs. But like many quads, Victor’s paralysis and loss of function was not complete. He still retained partial use of his hands. With them, he controlled an array of buttons and toggles, one of which he used to summon his general, Hugo, and his mystery guest.
Hugo walked into the room with a very attractive woman who seemed familiar to me.
“Creed,” he said.
“Hi Hugo. These days I’m going by Conner Payne.” I studied the woman standing next to him. I knew it would come to me. She had shoulder-length blond hair. The eyes were a different color than the last time I’d seen her, but they were still deep set and expressive.
“Holy shit,” I said. “Monica Childers. I thought you were dead.”
“I wish you’d died,” she said. “But I take comfort knowing you’re going to suffer.”
“Nice to see you, too,” I said.
I glanced at my wheelchair-bound former employer. “Victor, you told me Monica had been fucked to death by the Fathis.”
She gave him a hard look.
“That…was a…cover…story,” he said.
I said, “Monica, you’ve got every reason to hate me, but seriously, I’m glad to know you’re alive.”
“Fuck you,” she said.
“It’s a generous offer, but I’m already spoken for.”
“Really? What’s his name?”
“You’re a saucy little thing,” I said.
“And you tried to kill me.”
I said, “Victor, what’s the story here?”
Victor gave Hugo a single nod, and Hugo said, “Monica was married to Baxter Childers, the surgeon who botched Victor’s operation and left him paralyzed.”
“I remember,” I said.
“Monica met Victor during
the lawsuit. They kept in touch with throwaway phones. Baxter was a serial cheater, and a piece of shit human being,” Hugo said. He looked at Monica, held his hands up as if asking her to take over. She did.
“Not that I give a rat’s ass what you think,” she said to me, “but I knew for years he’d been cheating. I forgave him twice. Then I opened my heart to another man and fell in love. During the trial, I shared information with Victor’s people and they reciprocated. I found out Baxter had a child with one of his young lovers. He was getting ready to divorce me and marry her. I could go through an extended divorce, or I could see him put away for my murder.”
“And you chose the latter.”
Monica’s eyes narrowed, causing her eyebrows to flare like the wingspan of a predatory bird. “Victor said he’d take care of everything.” She turned to address him face-to-face: “You failed to mention I’d be beaten and murdered.”
Victor grimaced. “I…believed…you would…live, but…if not, then… Doctor…Childers…would…lose his…wife…and…the case.”
I said, “So one day you’re jogging at Amelia Island, and I kidnap you. Soon thereafter, you’re with your lover, savoring your sweet revenge.”
“Let’s keep the story straight,” she said. “You beat the shit out of me, injected me with a lethal poison, kicked me out of a moving truck, and left me to die.”
I glanced over and saw Dr. Nadine Crouch holding her head with both hands.
“Bygones?” I said.
Hugo offered his version: “You killed Monica, our people brought her back to life, she’s living on a plantation in Costa Rica, and Baxter’s serving twenty to life.”
“All’s…well that…ends well,” Victor said.
“You could have smuggled me out of the country,” Monica said. “You didn’t have to let him kill me!”
“We’ve…been…through this…many…times,” Victor said.
“Right. You were testing your anti-serum on me, killing two birds with one stone.”
“But you’re happy now,” I said.
“Eat shit and die,” she said. “It took four surgeries to repair my ear. The pain was excruciating.”
“You keep dwelling on the bad parts,” I said. I looked at Victor. “Is she always like this?”
“In my…experience…she is.”
“Fuck you both!” she said.