Runaway Heart

THIRTY-FOUR

Where could he have gone?" Susan was standing in the main salon of the boat, panic washing over her.

"If I know Herm, he's not going to quit on this," Jack said. "So where'd he go?"

"Zimmy sent that gene map to Dad's computer, and the computer is at the beach house."

"Nah… come on, he wouldn't go over there. Your dad's smarter than that."

"He's…" she stopped. "He's… well, I think…"

"Streisand's house? You can't be serious. We used her car in Montrose. They'll run the plate and have the beach house completely staked out. Herman might be a tad mistake-prone, but is he a complete bonehead?"

She glowered at him. "Damn it, Jack, if he needs that gene map to file his lawsuit, then he'll go and get it. That's the way he is."

"How can he file a lawsuit?"

"Knowing him, he'll come up with something. A temporary restraining order… use the gene map as proof of the chimera's existence. That's probably gonna be hard to get in as evidence, but Dad is resourceful, and the evidentiary rules are more lax for a TRO. He'll charge that these chimps are having their DNA illegally messed with, then try and get a restraining order to prevent it."

"What's his cell number?" Jack asked. "I hate calling it, but we gotta stop him from going there."

"Won't help. I've got his phone." She pulled it out of her purse and showed it to him.

Jack went to the phone in the salon, picked it up, and pulled out the business card Susan had given him two days ago. He dialed Streisand's number, but got Herman's answering machine in the guest house. "You've reached the temporary L.A. office of the Institute for Planetary Justice," Herman's tired voice announced. "We are off creating havoc for world polluters and environmental criminals, so leave a message and we'll take it from there." BEEP.

"Herman, it's Jack. Pick up that chimera file and get the hell out of that house. It's not safe. Don't stop to call me until you're out of Malibu. I'm at 949-555-1242." He hung up and looked into Susan's worried expression. "He's out creating havoc for world polluters."

She nodded. Both of them sat there brooding, trying to figure out what to do next.

"I think we should try to head him off," she finally said, her face a mask of apprehension.

"If he left right after we went to dinner, we'll never make it in time."

Paul Nichols was doing a line of kickass Poluo Blanco when his computer's incoming mail feature beeped. He wiped the residue off his nose, went to the screen, and read the transcription of Jack Wirta's phone message. Octopus had picked up the keyword, Chimera, and located the point of origin in area code 949. He punched out a code on his keyboard, accessing a GPS map and a stored record of the call to Streisand's house along with the precise longitude and latitude of the caller, which was displayed on the electronic map. The call had originated from the third-to-last boat slip at the end of Lido Island. He tried to still his cocaine rush as he dialed the command room at DARPA headquarters in L.A.

Jack felt a slight sway from the stern of the boat. He reached over, flipped off the lights, and whispered, "Somebody just came aboard."

"Dad?"

He felt the boat rock again as two more people came aboard. " 'Fraid not," he whispered.

Earlier Jack had seen a spear fishing locker located in the forward bulkhead across from where they were now standing. He opened it, grabbed three spear guns along with a handful of shafts, then led Susan into the master stateroom, closed the door, and locked it. Then he'd guided her into the master bath where he remembered seeing an overhead fire hatch in the shower.

He heard footsteps outside in the companionway.

Jack pushed open the fire hatch, then helped Susan scale the ladder. Once she was out on the foredeck he handed up the three spearguns and spears. She looked puzzled and started to say something, but Jack put a finger to his lips, then followed her through the hatch and closed it.

They knelt on the wide teak bow of the Bertram Sport-fisher while Jack loaded and cocked all of the guns one at a time, pulling the spear shafts back, straining the rubber tubing until the triggers clicked and they locked in place.

"Why those?" she whispered.

"No noise. Pick 'em off one at a time," he whispered.

"Kill them?" She was appalled.

"Susan, we're down to basics here. We can do the dying, or they can. How do you want it?"

Someone was coming forward. Jack pushed Susan behind a mahogany locker, then crouched down beside her. A figure dressed in SWAT gear appeared silhouetted against the moon. The man must have sensed him, because the commando spun suddenly, holding one of the strange laser weapons. He was pointing it right at them. Jack fired the first spear. Fong. Thump!

The shaft buried itself deep in the man's chest. He groaned, toppled over the rail, and fell loudly into the water.

As soon as the splash sounded, they heard a shout below and feet running.

Jack grabbed Susan's hand. "Come on, we're goin' swimming." They jumped off the bow into the bay, with

Jack clutching two unfired spear guns. Once they hit the cold water, and fought their way back up to the surface they started stroking away from the boat. In soaked clothing, they were making way too much noise. Jack stopped swimming and pulled up the second spear gun. He treaded water, holding the weapon at the ready, kicking his feet hard to stay afloat.

Susan kept going toward a line of sailboats moored halfway across the channel. The moonlight made them easy targets.

A second man ran to the bow of the boat, knelt down, and aimed his weapon. Jack fired.

The spear flew high and wide, hitting the wheelhouse just above the window. It thunked and quivered, embedding itself deep into the wood next to the man's head. He scrambled back off the bow. Sorry about that, Ted.

Jack dove, and made his way underwater, after Susan. With each lunging stroke, his back knifed with pain.

Finally, he caught up to her. She had stopped and was treading water, waiting for him.

"Keep going, around that boat. Get underwater," he gasped, swallowing a mouthful of water.

They both dove just as two laser weapons zapped. A horrible tingling sensation electrified the water all around them. But the laser weapon's particle beam was quickly dissipated by the water.

Underwater, Jack saw the dim outline of the moored sailboat, now only three yards away tied to two cans in the center of the channel. They frog-kicked toward it and somehow reached the far side before they surfaced, totally winded.

"Let's go. Keep the boat between us and them." he instructed. "We gotta get to that beach." Jack pointed to an expensive residential island that was another fifty yards beyond. As they reached the shore, they heard the CDF troops swimming after them.

"Let's get out of here!" Jack grabbed Susan's arm and they sprinted up the small beach between two bay-front houses, then onto the residential street beyond, where a few cars were parked. Jack ran to a classic Jag XKG convertible.

He broke out the window with a Rockette-worthy kick. Then he reached through, unlocked the door, got in, and found the ignition wires. He pulled them out, twisted them, and almost immediately the Jag purred to life.

Susan ran to the passenger side and jumped in as Jack put the Jag in gear, powering away from the curb. He roared down the narrow street, then he turned right onto the Coast Highway.