Mutation

10 Saturday Morning

It was still windy and rainy when Victor went out to the garage and got in his car. He’d breakfasted, showered, shaved, and dressed, and still no one else had stirred. After leaving a note explaining that he would be at the lab most of the day, Victor had left.

But he didn’t drive straight to the lab. Instead he headed west and got on Interstate 93 and drove south to Boston. In Boston he got off Storrow Drive at the Charles Street and Government Center exit. From there it was easy to drive onto the Massachusetts General Hospital grounds and park in the multistory parking garage. Ten minutes later he was in the pathology department.

Since it was early Saturday morning none of the staff pathologists were available. Victor had to be content with a second-year resident named Angela Cirone.

Victor explained his wish to get a tumor sample from a patient that had passed away four years previously.

“I’m afraid that is impossible,” Angela said. “We don’t keep—”

Victor politely interrupted her to tell her of the special nature of the tumor and its rarity.

“That might make things different,” she said.

The hardest part was finding Janice Fay’s hospital record, since Victor did not know Janice’s birthday. Birthdates were the major method of cross-referencing hospital records. But persistence paid off, and Angela was able to find both the hospital record number as well as the pathology record. She was also able to tell Victor that a gross specimen existed.

“But I can’t give you any,” Angela said after all the effort they’d expended to find it. “One of the staff members is up doing frozens this morning. When he gets through, we can see if he’ll give authorization.”

But Victor explained about his son David’s death of the same rare cancer and his interest in examining Janice’s cancerous cells. When he tried to, he could be charming in a winning way. Within the space of a few minutes, he’d persuaded the young resident to help.

“How much do you need?” she asked finally.

“A tiny slice,” Victor said.

“I guess it can’t hurt,” Angela said.

Fifteen minutes later, Victor was on his way down the elevator with another small jar within a paper bag. He knew he could have waited for the staff man, but this way he could get to work more quickly. Climbing into his car, he left the Massachusetts General Hospital grounds and headed north for Lawrence.

Arriving at Chimera, Victor called Able Protection. But he got a recording — it was Saturday, after all — and had to be content to leave his name and number. With that done, he searched for Robert, finding him already deeply involved with the project that Victor had started the night before, the separation of the section of David’s tumor DNA that differed from his normal DNA.

“You are going to hate me,” Victor said, “but I have another sample.” He took out the sample he had just gotten at Mass. General. “I want this DNA fingerprinted as well.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Robert said. “I like doing this stuff. You’ll just have to realize that I’m letting my regular work slide.”

“I understand,” Victor said. “For the moment this project takes priority.”

Taking the rat specimens that he’d prepared the night before, Victor made slides and stained them. While he was waiting for them to dry, a call came through from Able Protection. It was the same deep-voiced man whom Victor had dealt with earlier.

“First, I’d like to commend Mr. Norwell,” Victor said. “He did a great job last night.”

“We appreciate the compliment,” the man said.

“Second,” Victor said, “I need additional temporary security. But it’s going to require a very special person. I want someone with my son, VJ, from 6 A.M. until 6 P.M. And when I say I want someone with him, I mean constantly.”

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” the man said. “When do you want it to start?”

“As soon as you can send someone,” Victor answered. “This morning, if possible. My son is at home.”

“No problem. I have just the person. His name is Pedro Gonzales and I’ll send him on his way.”

Victor hung up and called Marsha at home.

“How did you sneak out without waking me this morning?” she asked.

“I never got to sleep last night after all the excitement,” Victor said. “Is VJ there?”

“He and Philip are still sleeping,” Marsha said.

“I’ve just made arrangements to have a security man stay with VJ all day. His name is Pedro Gonzales. He’ll be over shortly.”

“Why?” Marsha questioned, obviously surprised.

“Just to be one hundred percent sure he is safe,” Victor said.

“You’re not telling me something,” Marsha warned. “I want to know what it is.”

“It’s just to be sure he’s safe,” Victor repeated. “We’ll talk more about it later when I come home. I promise.”

Victor hung up the phone. He wasn’t about to confide in Marsha, at least not about his latest suspicions: that the Hobbs and Murray kids might have been deliberately killed. And that VJ could be killed the same way if anyone introduced cephaloclor to his system. With these thoughts in mind, he returned to the slides of the rat brains that he had drying and began to examine them in one of the light microscopes. As he expected, they appeared very similar to the slides of the children’s brains. Now there was no doubt in his mind that the children had indeed died from the cephaloclor in their blood. It was how they got the cephaloclor that was the question.

Removing the slides from the microscope, Victor went back to where Robert was working. They’d worked together so long, Victor could join in and help without a single word of direction from Robert.

After making herself a second cup of coffee, Marsha sat down at the table and looked out at the rainy day with its heavy clouds. It felt good not to have to go to the office, although she still had to make her inpatient rounds. She wondered if she should be more concerned than she was about Victor’s arranging for a bodyguard for VJ. That certainly sounded ominous. At the same time, it sounded like a good idea. But she was still sure there were facts that Victor was keeping from her.

Footsteps on the stairs heralded the arrival of both VJ and Philip. They greeted Marsha but were much more interested in the refrigerator, getting out milk and blueberries for their cereal.

“What are you two planning on doing today?” Marsha asked when they’d sat down at the table with her.

“Heading in to the lab,” VJ said. “Is Dad there?”

“He is,” Marsha said. “What happened about the idea of going to Boston for the day with Richie Blakemore?”

“Didn’t pan out,” VJ said. He gave the blueberries a shove toward Philip.

“That’s too bad,” Marsha said.

“Doesn’t matter,” VJ said.

“There is something I want to talk to you about,” Marsha said. “Yesterday I had a conversation with Valerie Maddox. Do you remember her?”

VJ rested his spoon in his dish. “I don’t like the sound of this. I remember her. She’s the psychiatrist whose office is on the floor above yours. She’s the lady with the mouth that looks like she’s always getting ready to kiss somebody.”

Philip laughed explosively, spraying cereal in the process. He wiped his mouth self-consciously while trying to control his laughter. VJ laughed himself, watching Philip’s antics.

“That’s not very nice,” Marsha said. “She is a wonderful woman, and very talented. We talked about you.”

“This is starting to sound even worse,” VJ said.

“She has offered to see you and I think it would be a good idea. Maybe twice a week after school.”

“Oh, Mom!” VJ whined, his face contorting into an expression of extreme distaste.

“I want you to think about it,” Marsha said. “We’ll talk again. It is something that might help you as you get older.”

“I’m too busy for that stuff,” VJ complained, shaking his head.

Marsha had to laugh to herself at that comment. “You think about it anyway,” she said. “One other thing. I just spoke to your father. Has he said anything to you about being concerned about your safety, anything like that?”

“A little,” VJ said. “He wanted me to watch out for Beekman and Hurst. But I never see those guys.”

“Apparently he’s still worried,” Marsha said. “He just told me that he has arranged for a man to be with you during the day. That man’s name is Pedro and he’s on his way over here.”

“Oh, no!” VJ complained. “That will drive me nuts.”

After finishing her inpatient rounds, Marsha got on Interstate 495 and headed west to Lowell. She got off after only three exits, and with the help of some directions she’d written on a prescription blank, she wound around on little country roads until she found 714 Mapleleaf Road, an ill-kept, Victorian-style house painted a drab gray with white trim. At some time in the past it had been converted into a duplex. The Fays lived on the first floor. Marsha rang the bell and waited.

Marsha had called from the hospital so the Fays knew to expect her. Despite the fact that their daughter had worked for her and Victor for eleven years, Marsha had only met the mother and father at Janice’s funeral. Janice had been dead for four years. Marsha felt odd standing on her parents’ porch, waiting for them to open the door. Knowing Janice so intimately for so many years, Marsha had come to the conclusion that there had been significantly disturbing emotional undercurrents in her family, but she had no idea what they could have been. On that issue, Janice had been completely noncommunicative.

“Please come in,” Mrs. Fay said after she’d opened the door. She was a white-haired, pleasant-looking but frail woman who appeared to be in her early sixties. Marsha noted that the woman avoided eye contact.

The inside of the house was much worse than the outside. The furniture was old and threadbare. What made it particularly unpleasant was that the place was dirty. Wastepaper baskets were filled to overflowing with such things as beer cans and McDonald’s wrappers. There were even cobwebs in one corner up near the ceiling.

“Let me tell Harry that you’re here,” Mrs. Fay said.

Marsha could hear the sounds of a televised sporting event somewhere in the background. She sat down, but kept to the very edge of the sofa. She didn’t want to touch anything.

“Well, well,” said a husky voice. “About time the fancy doctor paid us a visit is all I can say.”

Marsha turned to see a large man with a huge belly and wearing a tank-top undershirt come into the room. He walked right up to her and stuck out a calloused hand for her to shake. His hair was cut severely in a military-style crew cut. His face was dominated by a large, swollen nose with red capillaries fanning the side of each nostril.

“Can I offer you a beer or something?” he asked.

“No, thank you,” Marsha said.

Harry Fay sank into a La-Z-Boy armchair. “To what do we owe this visit?” he asked. He burped and excused himself.

“I wanted to talk about Janice,” Marsha said.

“I hope to God she didn’t tell you any lies about me,” Harry said. “I’ve been a hardworking man all my life. Drove sixteen-wheelers back and forth across this country so many times I lost count.”

“I’m sure that was hard work,” Marsha said, wondering if she should have come.

“Bet your ass,” Harry said.

“What I was wondering,” Marsha began, “is whether Janice ever talked about my boys, David and VJ.”

“Lots of times,” Harry said. “Right, Mary?”

Mary nodded but didn’t say anything.

“Did she ever remark on anything out of the ordinary about them?” There were specific questions she could have asked, but she preferred not to lead the conversation.

“She sure did,” Harry said. “Even before she got nuts about all that religious bunk, she told us that VJ had killed his brother. She even told us that she tried to warn you but you wouldn’t listen.”

“Janice never tried to warn me,” Marsha said, color rising in her cheeks. “And I should tell you that my son David died of cancer.”

“Well, that’s sure different than what Janice told us,” Harry said. “She told us the kid was poisoned. Drugged and poisoned.”

“That’s patently preposterous,” Marsha said.

“What the hell does that mean?” Harry said.

Marsha took a deep breath to calm herself down. She realized that she was trying to defend herself and her family before this offensive man. She knew that wasn’t the reason that she was there. “I mean to say that there was no way that my son David could have been poisoned. He died of cancer just like your daughter.”

“We only know what we’ve been told. Right, Mary?”

Mary nodded dutifully.

“In fact,” Harry said, “Janice told us that she’d been drugged once too. She told us that she didn’t tell anybody because she knew no one would believe her. She told us that she got mighty careful about what she ate from then on.”

Marsha didn’t say anything for a moment. She’d remembered the change in Janice. Overnight, she’d gotten extremely fastidious about what she ate. Marsha had always wondered what had caused the change. Apparently it had been this delusion of being drugged or poisoned.

“Actually, we didn’t believe too much of what Janice was telling us,” Harry admitted. “Something happened inside her head when she got so religious. She even went so far as to tell us that your boy, VJ, or whatever his name, was evil. Like he had something to do with the devil.”

“I can assure you that is not the case,” Marsha said. She stood up. She’d had enough.

“It is strange that your son David and our daughter died of the same cancer,” Harry said. He rose to his feet, his face reddening with the considerable effort.

“It was a coincidence,” Marsha agreed. “In fact, at the time it caused some concern. There was a worry that it had something to do with environment. Our home was studied extensively. I can assure you their both having it was nothing more than a tragic coincidence.”

“Tough luck, I guess,” Harry admitted.

“Very bad luck,” Marsha said. “And we miss Janice as we miss our son.”

“She was all right,” Harry said. “She was a pretty good kid. But she lied a lot. She lied a lot about me.”

“She never said anything to us about you,” Marsha said. And after a curt handshake, she was gone.

“You sure you don’t mind?” Victor asked Louis Kaspwicz. He’d called the man at home to ask him about the discrepancy regarding his hard disk on the personal computer.

“I don’t mind in the slightest,” Louis said. “If your hard disk has no storage space available, it means the existing storage is filled with data. There is no other explanation.”

“But I looked at the file directory,” Victor said. “All there is listed are the operating systems files.”

“There have to be more files,” Louis said. “Trust me.”

“I’d hate to mess up your Saturday afternoon if it is some stupid thing,” Victor said.

“Look, Dr. Frank,” Louis said, “I don’t mind. In fact, on a rainy day like this I’ll enjoy the excuse to get out of the house.”

“I’d appreciate it,” Victor said.

“Just give me directions and I’ll meet you there,” Louis said.

Victor gave him directions, then went out into the main lab and told Robert that he was leaving but that he’d probably be back. He asked Robert about what time he’d be calling it a day. Robert said that his wife had told him dinner was to be at six so he’d be leaving about five-thirty.

Louis was already at the house by the time Victor got there.

“Sorry to make you wait,” Victor said as he fumbled with his keys.

“No problem,” Louis said cheerfully. “You certainly have a beautiful house,” he added. He stomped the moisture off his shoes.

“Thank you.” Victor led Louis upstairs to his Wang PC. “Here it is,” he said. He reached behind the electronics unit and switched the system on.

Louis gave the computer a quick look, then lifted his narrow briefcase onto the counter top, snapping open the latches. Inside, encased in styrofoam, was an impressive array of electronic tools.

Louis sat down in front of the unit and waited for the menu to come up. He quickly went through the same sequence that Victor had early that morning, getting the same result.

“You were right,” Louis said. “There’s not much space left on this Winchester.” He reached over to his briefcase and unsnapped the accordion-like file area built under the lid, pulled out a floppy disk, and loaded it.

“Luckily, I happen to have a special utility for locating hidden files,” Louis said.

“What do you mean by hidden files?” Victor asked.

Louis was busy with manipulating information on the screen. He spoke without looking. “It is possible to store files so that they don’t appear on any directory,” he said.

Miraculously, data started to appear on the computer. “Here we are,” Louis said. He leaned aside so Victor could have a better view of the screen. “Any of this make sense to you?”

Victor studied the information. “Yeah,” he said. “These are contractions for the nucleotide bases of the DNA molecule.” The screen was completely filled with vertical columns of the letters AT, TA, GC, and CG. “The A is the adenine, the T is for pyrimidine, the G is for guanine, and the C is for cytosine,” Victor explained.

Louis advanced to the next page. The lists continued. He advanced a number of pages. The lists were interminable. “What do you make of this?” Louis asked, flipping through page after page.

“Must be a DNA molecule or gene sequence,” Victor said, his eyes following the flashing lists as if he were watching a Ping-Pong game.

“Well, have you seen enough of this file?” Louis asked.

Victor nodded.

Louis punched some information into the keyboard. Another file appeared, but it was similar to the first. “The whole hard disk could be taken up with this stuff,” Louis suggested. “You don’t remember putting this material in here?”

“I didn’t put it in,” Victor said without elaborating. He knew that Louis was probably dying to ask where it could have come from and who was the person logging onto the Chimera mainframe last night. Victor was grateful that the man held his curiosity in check.

For the next half hour, Louis rapidly went from file to file. All looked essentially like the first. It was like a library of DNA molecules. Then suddenly it changed.

“Uh oh,” Louis said. He had to hold up hitting the sequence of keys that scrolled through the hidden files. What appeared on the screen was a personnel file. Louis flipped through a couple of pages. “I recognize this because I formatted it. This is a personnel file from Chimera.”

Louis looked up at Victor, who didn’t say a word. Louis turned back to the computer and went to the next file. It was George Gephardt’s. “This stuff was pulled directly out of the mainframe,” Louis said. When Victor still did not respond, he went to the next file, then the next. There were eighteen personal files. Then came a series of accounting files with spread sheets. “I don’t recognize these,” Louis said. He looked up at Victor again. “Do you?”

Victor shook his head in disbelief.

Louis redirected his attention to the computer screen. “Wherever it came from, it represents a lot of money. It is a clever way to present it, though. I wonder what kind of program was used. I wouldn’t mind getting a copy of it.”

After going through a number of pages of the accounting data, Louis went on to the next file. It was a stock portfolio of a number of small companies, all of which held Chimera stock. All in all, it represented a large portion of the Chimera stock not held by the three founders and their families.

“What do you think this is?” Louis asked.

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Victor said. But there was one thing that he had a good idea about. He was going to have another talk with VJ about using the computer. If the information before him represented actual truths and wasn’t part of some elaborate fantasy computer game, the ramifications were very grave. And on top of that was the question of the deleted Hobbs and Murray files.

“Now we’re back to more of the DNA stuff,” Louis said as the screen filled again with the lists of the nucleotide sequences. “Do you want me to go on?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” said Victor. “I think I’ve seen enough. Would you mind leaving that floppy disk you’ve used to bring these files up? I’ll bring it to Chimera on Monday.”

“Not at all,” Louis said. “In fact, this is just a copy. You can keep it if you want. I have the original at home.”

Victor saw Louis off, holding the front door ajar until the man got in his van and drove off. Victor waved and then shut the door. Going upstairs, he made sure that VJ was not around. Back in the study, he called Marsha’s office but got the service. They didn’t know where she was, although she’d been at the hospital earlier.

Victor put the phone down. Then he got the idea of contacting Able Protection. Maybe they could get in touch with their operative. If so, then Victor could find out where VJ was.

But a call to Able Protection only yielded the recording. Victor was forced to leave his name and number with the request that he be called as soon as possible.

For the next half hour, Victor paced back and forth in the upstairs study. For the life of him, he could not understand what it was all about.

The phone rang and Victor grabbed it. It was the grating voice of the man from Able Protection. Victor asked if it were possible to contact the man accompanying VJ.

“All our people carry pagers,” the man told him.

“I want to know where my son is,” Victor said.

“I’ll call you right back.” With that, the man hung up. Five minutes later, the phone rang again. “Your son is at Chimera, Inc.,” the man said. “Pedro is at the security gate this minute if you want to talk to him.”

Victor thanked the man. He hung up the phone and went downstairs for his coat. A few minutes later he was cutting his wheels sharply to do a U-turn in front of the house.

After a quick drive, Victor made an acute turn into the entrance to the Chimera compound and came to an abrupt halt inches from the gatehouse barrier. He drummed his fingers expectantly on the steering wheel, waiting for the guard to raise the black and white striped gate. Instead, the man came out of the office in spite of the rain and bent down next to Victor’s window. Without hiding his irritation at being detained, Victor lowered his window.

“Afternoon, Dr. Frank!” the guard said. He touched the brim of his hat in some kind of salute. “If you’re looking for that special security man, he’s here in the guardhouse.”

“You mean the man from Able Protection?” Victor asked.

“That I don’t know,” the guard said. He straightened up. “Hey, Pedro, you from Able Protection?”

A handsome young man came to the door of the guardhouse. His hair was coal black and he sported a narrow mustache. He looked about twenty.

“Who wants to know?” he asked.

“Your boss here, Dr. Frank.”

Pedro came out of the guardhouse and over to Victor’s car. He stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Frank. I’m Pedro Gonzales from Able Protection.”

Victor shook hands with him. He wasn’t happy. “Why aren’t you with my boy?” Victor asked brusquely.

“I was,” Pedro explained, “but when we got here, he said he was safe inside the compound at Chimera and that I was supposed to wait in the guardhouse.”

“I think your orders were pretty clear to stay with the boy at all times,” Victor said.

“Yes, sir,” Pedro answered, realizing he’d made a mistake. “It won’t happen again. Your son was quite convincing. He said you’d wanted it this way. I’m sorry.”

“Where is he?” Victor asked.

“That I can’t say,” Pedro answered. “He and Philip are on the grounds here someplace. They haven’t left if that is what you’re concerned about.”

“That’s not what I’m concerned about,” Victor snapped. “I’m concerned that I hired Able Protection to watch over him and the job’s not being done.”

“I understand,” Pedro said.

Victor looked up at the gate operator. “Is Sheldon working today?”

“Hey, Sheldon!” the guard yelled.

Sheldon appeared at the doorway. Victor asked if he had any idea where VJ was.

“Nope,” Sheldon said, “but when he arrived this morning, he and Philip headed that way.” He pointed west.

“Toward the river?” Victor asked.

“Could have been,” Sheldon said. “But he could have gone to the cafeteria, too.”

“Would you like me to come with you and help find him?” Pedro asked.

Victor shook his head no as he put his car in gear. “You wait here until I find him.” Then, to the guard, who was blankly listening to the conversation, he said, “I’d appreciate it if you could raise this gate before I drive through it.”

The guard jumped and ran back inside to activate the gate mechanism.

Victor floored the accelerator and sped onto the Chimera lot. Forsaking his reserved parking space, he drove to the building that housed his lab and parked in front of the entrance. It said no parking but he didn’t care. He pulled his coat collar up and hunched over, running for the door.

Robert was the only one still there. He was as busy as usual, again working with the gel electrophoresis unit. That was where the bits and pieces of the cleaved DNA were separated.

“Have you seen VJ?” Victor asked, shaking off some of the rainwater.

“Haven’t seen him,” Robert said. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “But I have something else to show you.” He picked up two strips of film which had dark bands in exactly the same location and held them out for Victor to take. “That second tumor sample you gave me had the same extra piece of DNA as your son’s. But the sample was from a different person.”

“It was from our live-in nanny,” Victor said. “Are you positive that the moiety was the same in both samples?”

“Quite sure,” Robert said.

“That’s astounding,” Victor said, forgetting VJ for a moment.

“I thought you’d find it interesting,” Robert said with pride. “It’s the kind of finding that cancer researchers have been seeking. It could even be the breakthrough that medicine has been waiting for.”

“You’ve got to sequence it,” Victor said impatiently. “Immediately.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing,” Robert said. “I’ve got a number of other runs with the electrophoresis unit and then I’ll let the computer have a go at it.”

“If it turns out to be a retro virus or something like that...” Victor said, letting his sentence trail off. It was just one more unexpected finding to be added to a growing list.

“If VJ shows up, tell him I’m looking for him,” Victor said. Then he turned and left the lab.

In the cafeteria, Victor went straight to the manager. “Have you seen VJ?”

“He was in here for an early lunch. Philip was with him along with one of the guards.”

“One of the guards?” Victor questioned. He wondered why Sheldon hadn’t told him that. Victor asked the manager to call his lab if VJ showed up. The manager nodded.

There were a handful of people in the library. Most of them were reading, a few were asleep. The librarian told Victor that VJ had not been around.

Victor got the same response at the fitness center and the day-care center. Except at the cafeteria, no one had seen VJ all day.

Getting an umbrella from his car, Victor set off toward the river. He walked north and hit it at about the middle of the Chimera complex. He turned west, walking along the granite quay. None of the buildings lining the river had been renovated by Chimera as yet, but they’d make ideal sites for some of the intended expansion. Victor was considering moving his administrative office down there. After all, if he had to spend all his time doing administrative work, he might as well have a view.

As he walked, Victor gazed down at the river. In the rain the white water appeared even more turbulent than it had on the previous day. Looking upriver toward the dam, he could barely see its outline through the mist rising from the base of the falls.

Passing the line of empty buildings, he realized there were hundreds of nooks here a boy could find entertaining. It could be a paradise for games like hide-and-seek or sardines. But those games required a group of kids. Except for Philip, VJ was always on his own.

Victor continued moving upstream until his path was blocked by the portion of the clock tower building that was cantilevered out over part of the dam and a portion of the millpond. To go beyond, Victor had to skirt the building, then approach the river on its west side. There, Victor’s path was blocked by the ten-foot-wide sluice that separated from the millpond, then ran parallel to it before leading to a tunnel. Back in the days when waterpower ran the entire mill, the sluice carried the water into the basement of the clock tower building. There the rushing water turned a series of huge paddle wheels which effectively powered thousands of looms and sewing machines as well as the tower clock.

Standing at the tunnel’s edge, Victor inspected the bottom of the sluice. Besides a trickle of water, there was debris mostly made up of broken bottles and empty beer cans. Victor eyed the junction of the sluice and the raging river. Two heavy steel doors had once regulated the water flow. Now the whole unit was horribly corroded with rust. Victor wondered how it could still hold back the horrendous force the water exerted on it. The river was practically at the level of the top of the doors.

Victor skirted the sluice and continued his walk westward. The rain stopped and he lowered his umbrella. Soon he came to the last building of the Chimera complex. It, too, was cantilevered out over the river. Beyond it was a city street. Victor turned around and started back.

He didn’t call VJ as he’d done the last time. He just looked around and listened. When he got back to the clock tower building, he headed toward the occupied portion of the complex. Stopping in at his lab, he asked Robert if VJ had appeared, but he hadn’t.

At a loss as to what to do, Victor returned to the cafeteria.

“Hasn’t shown up yet,” the manager said before Victor even asked him.

“I didn’t expect so,” Victor said. “I came over for some coffee.”

Still damp from the rain, Victor had become quite chilled as he’d walked along the river. He could tell that the temperature was dropping again now that the storm was over.

Once he’d finished his coffee and felt sufficiently warm, Victor pulled on his damp coat. He again reminded the manager to call over to the lab if and when VJ showed up. Then he returned to the security office. The warmth in there was welcome even if it was heavy with cigarette smoke. Pedro had been playing solitaire on a small couch in the back of the office. He got up when Victor appeared. Sheldon stood up behind his small desk.

“Anybody seen my son?” Victor asked abruptly.

“I just spoke to Hal not two minutes ago,” Sheldon said. “I specifically asked him, but he said he hadn’t seen VJ all day.”

“The manager at the cafeteria told me that VJ had lunch with one of you guys today,” Victor said. “How come you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t eat with VJ!” Sheldon said, pressing his palm against his chest. “I know Hal didn’t either. He ate with me. We both brown-bagged it. Hey, Fred!”

Fred stuck his head into the main part of the office from the spot where he operated the entrance and the exit gates. Sheldon asked him if he ate lunch with VJ.

“Sure didn’t,” he said. “I went off-site for lunch.”

Sheldon shrugged. Then he said to Victor, “There’s only three of us on duty today.”

“But the manager said...” Victor started, but he stopped. There was no point getting into an argument over who ate with VJ and who didn’t. The point was, where the hell was he now? Victor was getting curious and a little concerned. Marsha had wondered, and now he did too, just what did VJ do at Chimera to keep himself occupied. Up until that moment Victor had never given it much thought.

Leaving the security office, Victor went back to his lab. He was running out of ideas of where to search.

“The manager over at the cafeteria just called,” Robert said as soon as Victor appeared. “VJ’s turned up.”

Victor went to the nearest phone and called the manager.

“He’s here right now,” the manager said.

“Is he alone?” Victor asked.

“Nope. Philip is with him.”

“Did you tell him I was looking for him?” Victor asked.

“No, I didn’t. You just told me to call. You didn’t tell me to say anything to VJ.”

“That’s fine,” Victor said. “Don’t say anything. I’m on my way.”

Crossing to the building that housed both the cafeteria and the library, Victor chose not to enter through the main cafeteria entrance. He went in a side entrance instead, climbed to the second floor, and only then entered the cafeteria on the balcony level. Going to the railing and looking down, he saw VJ and Philip eating ice cream.

Keeping back out of sight, Victor allowed VJ and Philip to finish their afternoon snack. Before long they got up and disposed of their trays. As they were leaving, Victor came down the stairs, staying out of sight close to the wall. He could hear the door close behind them as they left.

Quickening his step, he got to the door in time to see them turn west on the walkway.

“Something wrong?” the manager asked.

“No, nothing is wrong,” Victor said, straightening up and trying to appear nonchalant. The last thing he wanted was office gossip. “Just curious about my son’s whereabouts,” he said. “I’ve told him time and time again not to go near the river when it’s raging like it is now. But I’m afraid he’s not minding me at all.”

“Boys will be boys,” said the manager.

Victor exited the cafeteria in time to see VJ and Philip in the distance, turning to the right beyond the building housing Victor’s lab. Clearly they were heading toward the river. Moving to a slow jog, Victor followed as far as the point where VJ and Philip had turned right. About fifty yards ahead he could still see them. He waited until they veered left just before the river and disappeared from sight. Victor ran down the alleyway.

When he arrived at the point VJ and Philip had gone left, he caught sight of them nearing the clock tower building. As he watched, the two mounted the few steps in front of the deserted building and entered through the doorless entranceway.

“What on earth can they be doing in there?” Victor asked himself. Keeping out of sight as much as possible, he went as far as the entranceway, then paused to listen. But all he could hear was the sound of the falls.

Perplexed, Victor entered. He waited a moment until his eyes adjusted to the dim light. Once they had, he found just the kind of mess he’d expected to find in the abandoned building. The floor was littered with rubble and trash.

The first floor was dominated by a large room with window openings over the millpond. Any glass had long since been broken. Not even the sashes remained. In the center of the room was a pile of debris giving evidence of squatters who had probably occupied the place before Chimera purchased the complex and fenced it in. Over the whole scene hung a pervasive smell of rotting wood, fabric, and cardboard.

Stealthily moving toward the center of the room, Victor tried to listen again, but the noise of the falls was even more dominating inside than it had been outside. He could make out no other sounds.

Along the side opposite the river was a series of small rooms that opened onto the main room. Victor started at the first and worked his way down. Each was filled with trash, to varying degrees. At either end and in the center of the building were stairwells that led to the two floors above. Victor went to the center staircase and slowly climbed up. On each floor he searched the warren of little rooms on both sides of a long hallway. Each room had its complement of rubble, litter, and dirt.

Mystified, Victor returned to the first floor. He walked to one of the front window openings and gazed out at the river, the dam, the pond, and then at the empty sluice, closed from the river with its rusted doors.

It was then that Victor remembered that the clock tower building was connected to the other buildings by elaborate tunnel systems to distribute the rotary mechanical power of the paddle wheels. It was obvious VJ was not in the clock tower building now. Victor wondered if it was this system his son had stumbled onto.

Victor whirled about, his hair standing on edge. He thought he’d heard something over the roar of the falls, or felt something; he wasn’t sure which. His eyes rapidly scanned the room but no one was there, and when he strained to listen, all he heard was the sound of the river.

Going from one stairwell to the other, Victor searched for the entrance to the basement. But he couldn’t find it. He looked again, still to no avail. There were no steps leading down. Stepping over to a window opening on the south side of the building, he looked to see if there might be a basement entrance from the outside, but there wasn’t. There seemed no way to get into the basement.

Victor left the building and walked back to the occupied section of the Chimera complex to visit the office of Buildings and Grounds. Using his master key, he let himself in and turned on the lights. He immediately went to the file room. From a huge metal cabinet he retrieved the architectural drawings of all the existing structures on the Chimera property. Referencing the clock tower building on the master site plan, he found the drawings for it and pulled them out.

The first drawing was of the basement. It showed where the water tunnel entered the edifice. Within the basement the water flowed through a heavily planked trough where it turned a series of paddle wheels that were mounted both horizontally and vertically. The basement itself was divided into one central room with all the power wheels and a number of side rooms. The tunnel system emanated from one of the side rooms on the east end.

Victor then looked at the plan for the first floor. He found the stairway that led down to the basement easily enough. It was immediately to the right of the central stairwell. He could not imagine how he had missed it.

To be doubly sure, he made a copy of the basement and first-floor plans, using the special copy machine that Chimera had for that purpose. He reduced the copies to legal-paper size. With these in hand, he returned to the clock tower building, determined to explore below.

Victor made his way through the trash on the floor and approached the central stairwell. Standing in front of it, he looked to the immediate right. He even took the copy of the existing floor plan and held it up to make sure he’d read it right.

Victor couldn’t understand what he was doing wrong. There were no basement stairs. He even walked around the other side of the stairwell just in case the blueprints were in error. But there were no stairs going down on that side either.

Walking back to the location where the plans said the stairway was supposed to be, Victor noticed that the area was devoid of the debris that was scattered over the rest of the floor. Finding that odd, he bent down and noticed something else: the floor planking was wider than it was in the rest of the building. And it was newer wood.

Victor started at a sound from behind. He turned, but it seemed there was nothing there. Still, he felt there was someone there in the semidarkness. Someone very near. Terrified, Victor tried to scan the surrounding cavernous room. Again from behind he heard or felt a second sound or vibration. No doubt about it: a footfall. Victor turned, but too late. He could just make out the shadowy silhouette of a figure raising some sort of object over his head. He tried to lift his hands to protect himself from the blow, but could not save himself from its power. His mind collapsed into a black abyss.

After leaving Lowell, Marsha stopped at a roadside concession and used the phone and called the Blakemores. She felt mildly awkward, but managed to get herself invited over for a short visit. It took her about half an hour to get to their home in West Boxford at 479 Plum Island Road.

As she pulled in, Marsha was glad it had stopped raining. But as she opened the door to her car, she wished she’d taken one of her down coats. The temperature was dropping rapidly.

The Blakemore house was a cozy structure reminiscent of the kind of houses seen on Cape Cod. The windows were mullioned and painted white. Arching over the entranceway was a latticed wood arbor. Marsha climbed the front steps and rang the bell.

Mrs. Blakemore opened the door. She was a stocky woman about Marsha’s age, with short hair turned up at the ends. “Come in,” she said, eyeing Marsha curiously. “I’m Edith Blakemore.”

Marsha felt the woman’s stare and wondered if there was something amiss with her appearance, like a dark spot between her front teeth from the fruit she’d just eaten. She ran her tongue over her teeth just to be sure.

Inside the house was every bit as charming as the exterior. The furniture was early American antique with chintz-covered couches and wing chairs. On the wide-planked pine floor were rag rugs.

“May I take your coat?” Edith asked. “How about some coffee or tea?”

“Tea would be nice,” Marsha said. She followed Edith into the living room.

Mr. Blakemore, who had been sitting by the fire with the newspaper, got to his feet as Marsha entered. “I’m Carl Blakemore,” he said, extending his hand. He was a big man with leathery skin and dark features.

Marsha shook his hand.

“Sit down, make yourself at home,” Carl said, motioning to the couch. After Marsha sat down, he returned to his own seat, placing the paper on the floor next to his chair. He smiled pleasantly. Edith disappeared into the kitchen.

“Interesting weather,” Carl said, attempting to make conversation.

Marsha could not rid herself of the uncomfortable feeling she’d gotten when Edith had first looked at her. There was something stiff and unnatural about these people but Marsha couldn’t put her finger on it.

A boy came down the stairs and into the room. He was just about VJ’s age but larger and stockier, with sandy-colored hair and dark brown eyes. There was a tough look about him, and the resemblance to Mr. Blakemore was striking. “Hello,” he said, extending his hand in a gentlemanly fashion.

“You must be Richie,” Marsha said, shaking hands with the boy. “I’m VJ’s mother. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Marsha felt an exaggeration was in order.

“You have?” Richie asked uncertainly.

“Yes,” Marsha said. “And the more I heard, the more I wanted to meet you. Why don’t you come over to our house sometime? I suppose VJ has told you we have a swimming pool.”

“VJ never told me you have a swimming pool,” Richie said. He sat on the hearth and stared up at Marsha to the point that she felt even more uncomfortable.

“I don’t know why he didn’t,” Marsha said. She looked at Carl. “You never know what’s in these children’s minds,” she said with a smile.

“Guess not,” Carl said.

There was an awkward silence. Marsha wondered what was going on.

“Milk or lemon?” Edith asked, coming into the room and breaking the silence. She carried a tray into the living room and put it on the coffee table.

“Lemon,” Marsha said. She took the cup from Edith and held it while Edith poured. Then she squeezed in a little lemon. When she was finished, she settled back. Then she noticed that the other three people were not joining her. They were just staring.

“No one else is having any tea?” Marsha asked, feeling progressively self-conscious.

“You enjoy it,” Edith said.

Marsha took a sip. It was hot, so she placed it on the coffee table. She cleared her throat nervously. “I’m sorry to have barged in on you like this.”

“Not at all,” Edith said. “Being a rainy day and all, we’ve just been relaxing around the house.”

“I’ve wanted to meet you for some time,” Marsha said. “You’ve been awfully nice to VJ, I’d like to return the favor.”

“What exactly do you mean?” Edith asked.

“Well, for one thing,” Marsha said, “I’d like to have Richie come over to our home and spend the night. If he’d like to, of course. Would you like to do that, Richie?”

Richie shrugged his shoulders.

“Why exactly would you like Richie to spend the night?” Carl asked.

“To return the favor, of course,” Marsha said. “Since VJ has spent so many nights over here, I thought it only natural that Richie come to our house once in a while.”

Carl and Edith exchanged glances. Edith spoke: “Your son has never spent the night here. I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Marsha looked from one person to the other, her confusion mounting. “VJ has never stayed here overnight?” she asked incredulously.

“Never,” Carl said.

Looking down at Richie, Marsha asked, “What about last Sunday. Did you and VJ spend time together?”

“No,” Richie said, shaking his head.

“Well, then, I suppose I have to apologize for taking your time,” Marsha said, embarrassed. She stood up. Edith and Carl did the same.

“We thought you’d come to talk about the fight,” Carl said.

“What fight?” Marsha asked.

“Apparently VJ and our boy had a little disagreement,” Carl said. “Richie had to spend the night in the infirmary with a broken nose.”

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” Marsha said. “I’ll have to have a talk with VJ.”

As quickly and as gracefully as she could, Marsha left the Blakemore house. When she got into her car, she was furious. She sure would have a talk with VJ. He was even worse off than she’d thought. How could she have missed so much? It was as though her son had a separate life, one entirely different from the one he presented. Such cool, calm deceit was markedly abnormal! What was happening to her little boy?