Maybe

5

Sam Case.

SAM CAN’T BELIEVE his good fortune!

Having your enemy’s daughter kill your enemy’s girlfriend? That’d be a hell of a victory for anyone in the revenge business.

Of course, Sam’s not just anyone.

He’s a genius of the highest order. The type of genius who can parlay this type of news into something really special. He presses a button on his cell phone.

Rachel answers.

“Hi honey,” Sam says. “Got a minute? I need to talk to you.”

“Is this about our divorce?”

“It’s about Kevin.”

When Creed seduced Sam’s wife, Rachel, he told her his name was Kevin. She liked it, and sticks with it.

“Kevin calls me every week,” Rachel says. “But he won’t say where he is or what he’s doing.”

“Let me visit and I’ll tell you what I know.”

“When can you get here?”

Sometimes Rachel forgets they live in an underground bunker. Separated by halls and walls, not states or countries.

“Thirty seconds,” he says.

“Make it five minutes. I need to get dressed. Wait, is it something bad? He’s not dead, is he?”

“No.”

“Good. I love him.”

“I know.”

Sam hangs up and tries Doc Howard’s phone number. Maybe says Doc Howard has been killed. If that’s the case, Sam might be off the hook. He might not have to steal any more classified information from the government. He wishes he hadn’t sent the Bin Laden photos. If someone gets into Doc’s computer, they might be able to trace the photos back to Sam.

Someone answers the phone.

“Hello, Sam.”

The voice on the other end is electronic, and sounds exactly the same as Doc Howard.

“Doc?”

“Doc Howard is dead. Of course, you’ve already heard this news.”

“Who is this?”

“Listen carefully, Sam. Are you listening?

“Yes, sir.”

“Your deal with Doc Howard, aka Darwin, is hereby cancelled.”

Sam pauses, perplexed. He tries to work it out in his mind, but there’s insufficient data.

“I don’t understand,” he says.

“You’re done.”

“Are you…you’re not planning to kill me, are you?”

“No. But we can no longer protect you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You stole billions of dollars from some really nasty people.”

“I didn’t steal it. Donovan Creed did.”

“Maybe you can explain that when they come to call.”

“We can still work together.”

“In what possible capacity?”

“Did you receive my recent email?” Sam says.

“You’re testing me?”

“It seems appropriate, under the circumstances.”

“If you’re referring to the Bin Laden photos, I destroyed them, along with everything else on Darwin’s computers. You’re off the hook Sam.”

“You seem to know everything Doc Howard knew. I think you’re him.”

“I could care less what you think. You called me, remember?”

“I called Doc Howard.”

The man laughs. “It doesn’t matter who you call, Sam. I’m always listening.”

Sam says, “Doc Howard might be dead, but you’re Darwin.”

The man says nothing. Is Sam right? Could this be the real Darwin? And if so, does it matter?

Sam says, “What about Kimberly Creed?”

“You might want to re-think having Kimberly kill Gwen Peters.”

“How can you possibly monitor my cell phone calls?”

“Child’s play, Sam. Why do you want her to kill Gwen?”

“When Creed finds out his daughter killed his girlfriend, he’ll hit the ceiling. It’s part of the sweet revenge Doc Howard and I spoke about.”

Darwin clucks, as if chiding a young boy. “Use your head, Sam.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a much better hit out there for you.”

“Which hit is that?”

“Sherry Cherry.”

“Who?”

“Your mother-in-law.”

“Well, this time you’re wrong. My mother-in-law is Sherry Birdsong.”

“She’s using her maiden name these days.”

“Sherry Cherry?”

“That’s right.”

“You’re joking! And even if you’re not, why would I want to kill Rachel’s mother? She’s a junkie.”

“Creed brought her to Sensory Resources, placed her under Doc Howard’s care. As soon as she’s clean, he plans to exchange her for Rachel.”

“What?”

“Sherry and Rachel have the same gene. Creed worked a deal with the government to exchange them, after Sherry gets clean. And we’re talking days, Sam, not weeks or months. Now that Doc Howard’s dead, Creed will find someone else to certify her as clean. If that happens, you’ll spend years of your life in the hole with your mother-in-law instead of your wife.”

Sam slaps his hand against his head. Idiot! How could he fail to consider the possibility Sherry might have the same gene as her daughter?

“Does Rachel know about the exchange?”

“No. She only knows Creed promised to get her out. But that’s his plan.”

“If I kill Sherry, Rachel has to stay underground until we develop a cure for the Spanish Flu.”

“That’s right. And from what I understand, you’re what, ten years away?”

“At least.”

Darwin says, “You want to really beat Creed? Have his daughter kill Rachel’s mother. You’ll have Rachel and her future children all to yourself for at least ten years.”

“If Sherry’s at Sensory Resources, Kimberly can’t touch her.”

“Correct. But now that Doc Howard’s dead, I’ll see to it Sherry gets released. I can coordinate it to fit your schedule.”

“You’ll see to it?”

“That’s right. I suppose that makes you think I’m Darwin? Fine. Call me Darwin.”

How would it work?”

“When Sherry gets released she’ll need a ride to the airport.” I’ll have the driver take her to a location that’s suitable for killing.”

“This might be the best day of my life!” Sam says.

“Glad I could be a part of it,” Darwin says.

Sam’s joy doesn’t last long. He feels his ears burning. He grits his teeth. It’s a proven fact Sam’s a genius of the highest order. Ten times smarter than Creed! So how is it Creed always manages to stay a step ahead of him? Darwin has done him a huge favor, revealing Creed’s plans.

But at what cost?

Sam says, “What do I owe you for this information?”

“Nothing. This business about Rachel’s mother is for my own amusement.”

“This whole scenario about the shared gene never crossed my mind. I don’t understand how Creed got it and I didn’t.”

“It was too obvious, Sam. Creed’s an undisciplined thinker.”

“He thinks outside the box?”

“No. People who think outside the box start with the box. Creed doesn’t even know there’s a box.”

Sam says, “Of course there’s a box. It’s a metaphor for all you know about a specific situation. Using that as a starting point-”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Darwin interrupts. “This thing between you and Creed amuses me. On paper, it’s all you. But Creed’s got your number.”

“Why is that, do you think?”

“It comes down to logic, and critical thinking.”

“No one in the world is more logical than me!” Sam says, indignantly. “Compared to me, Spock the Vulcan is Porky Pig!”

“That’s your weakness, Sam. Your facility for logical, deductive reasoning makes you as predictable as the days of the week. Your arch enemy Creed is the most undisciplined, illogical, irrational opponent you could possibly face. He’s everything you aren’t, starting with insane.”

“He doesn’t play fair,” Sam says.

“That reduces it to the lowest common denominator,” Darwin agrees.

“You’ve saved me a decade of misery,” Sam says.

“Assuming you make the kill.”

“I’ll make it. Then I’ll destroy Donovan Creed.”

“No you won’t. But I like your attitude.”

Sam says, “You know Creed better than you know me, but don’t sell me short. The smart money bets on Creed, I get that. So my chances of beating him are less than fifty percent. But what’s a realistic assessment? Thirty, thirty-five percent?”

“Statistically?”

“Yes.”

“I could be wrong. I don’t want to discourage you.”

“That’s okay. I want your honest opinion.”

“Zero.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Sam, you need to put things in perspective.”

“I’m listening.”

“Compared to your brain power, Creed is as insignificant as an ant.”

“That sounds about right,” Sam says.

“Except that you’re an angry little boy, and Creed is all the ants in the world.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Assume you’re standing in your yard, and an ant bites your ankle. It burns. You get angry and stomp on the ant hole and crush it. After a time the ants dig their way out and one of them bites you again. Furious, you grab your garden hose and flood the colony. A few days later, you’re in your kitchen, drinking coffee, when an ant bites your foot. You run outside and pour gasoline down the ant hole and light it. In the process, you set your clothes on fire and get burned half to death. While you’re recuperating in the hospital, the ants continue building their colony. By the time you get home, you’re weaker than you started, but the ants are twice as strong.”

“With all due respect Darwin, what’s your point?”

“When the ants bite you, it’s not personal. It’s what they do.”

“That’s it?”

“In part.”

“What’s the rest?”

“At the end of the day, you’re nothing but an angry little boy.”

“And what’s Creed?”

“A force of nature.”

“Fuck Creed!”

“That’s the spirit, Sam.”