The Panic Zone

45

Los Angeles, California

“What do you mean, my son was chosen?” Emma asked Polly.

A strained silence passed over Emma’s hotel telephone line until it was broken by Polly’s sniffling.

“I’ve done something terribly, terribly wrong,” Polly said.

“What was Tyler chosen for?”

“I’m being punished for all the bad things I’ve done.”

“What bad things? Where’s my son? Who has my son?”

“It hurts so much. I have to sleep now.”

“Polly, please answer me!”

“I’ll tell you more when you come back tomorrow.”

“I’ll come tonight!”

“No.”

“Please let me come tonight!”

“No, tomorrow I’ll be better. I’ll find files for you.”

“Polly! Wait!”

Emma stood, squeezing the receiver as if it were a life-line.

She could not lose Polly again.

Emma’s heart was beating wildly. What if this was as close as she ever got to knowing what happened to Tyler that day on the highway near Big Cloud?

Emma wanted the truth.

She’d paid for it, suffered for it, bled for it. If she had to reach through Polly Larenski’s psychotic fog and into her tortured soul to get it, then that’s what she would do. Emma’s grip on the phone was so powerful she swore she heard the handset crack.

“Polly,” Emma softened her taut tone, “please, just talk to me. I need you to tell me what happened.”

Emma heard Polly’s measured breathing, heard her thinking.

“Polly, you are the only person who can help me. Start at the beginning and tell me what happened.”

Emma heard the faint rattle of a pill bottle being uncapped, heard Polly swallow then exhale.

“I already told you that Brad’s gambling was out of control,” Polly said. “He owed a lot of money to a lot of bad people. I was using new credit cards to pay off old ones but it was not going to work forever. I had to do something, don’t you see?”

“Yes.”

“Some time ago, the company sent me to be its rep at a big international conference for lab technicians in Mexico.”

“Mexico?”

“Mexico City. When I was there, I overheard some delegates talking about rumors of new cutting-edge genetic research. It sounded interesting. Later, a woman from that group approached me privately in the lounge. She saw my delegate badge and that I was with Golden Dawn Fertility and asked for my card. Then she asked if I’d be interested in ‘confidentially contributing to an important study.’ She said I’d be well paid.”

“What sort of study?”

Polly coughed and Emma heard her light a cigarette then draw on it.

“She was vague, but something to do with genetics.”

“Who was she with?”

“I don’t know. I think it was a corporation on an island somewhere in the Indian Ocean or Caribbean. She took my card and told me to think it over.”

“Did you tell your bosses about this?”

“No. Because later I got a follow-up call from a stranger, who told me that if I confidentially supplied them information, I would be extremely well paid. We needed the money, so I agreed.”

“How much did they pay you?”

“Five thousand dollars for the first batch of data.”

“What was the data for?”

“They said it would lead to a cure for major diseases.”

“Why did they have to be so secretive?”

“They said other corporations were trying to duplicate their work. They said they didn’t have time to comply with international rules and regulations. They had to take steps now to protect their research.”

“What did you have to do?”

“At first I just provided generic information. You see, Golden Dawn collects DNA from all donors and all clients, to ensure quality and avoid the rare chance of well, inbreeding-you wouldn’t want to be using your long lost brother’s sperm, that sort of thing.”

Polly exhaled.

“We have a complex screening process, one of the world’s best. It eliminates abnormal DNA, bacteria, infections and viruses from the samples. At first, the ‘researchers’ asked for general information on our clients. It involved no privacy concerns, so I ran a computer scan and gave them generic information. I thought it was for statistical analysis, demographic tables.”

“How did you give them information?”

“They would tell me to go to a branch of the L.A. Public Library at a specific time and leave a memory card in a certain book. I would get an envelope of cash the same way.”

“So you never saw anyone?”

“No. I was called at home by different people from ‘the study team.’ I never knew who or where they were based. They had accents, they said they were contractors. The numbers were blocked. I figured the calls came from all over the world.”

“How did this involve Tyler?”

“They started to ask for specific DNA sequences, profiles. I got nervous. This was crossing a line, but they offered more money, so I agreed.”

“What did you give them?”

“Samples of your baby’s DNA, your DNA, the donor’s DNA, your husband’s, too. They got very interested in Tyler’s DNA, they said it was exactly what they needed. They asked for all of your private information-names, address, and your complete files.”

“What did you do?”

“I told them I was uneasy and they offered me fifteen thousand dollars.”

“You took it?”

“I thought this was a start at clearing some of Brad’s debts and rebuilding our lives, so I took the money and I gave them everything. I kept working with them until your tragedy.”

“What happened?”

Polly pulled on her cigarette.

“I was getting so scared. I knew I was acting in denial, that I didn’t want to know what was going on because I needed the money. But my conscience ate at me. Finally, I demanded to know what was happening. They said their ‘research’ was going on around the world, that it was part of a ‘major operation’ and that I couldn’t tell anyone because I was implicated and there would be consequences.”

“What did you do?”

“I started freaking out, asking, What did I get myself into?”

“Did you go to the police?”

“I was afraid. I was sure I was being followed, the house was being watched. I started making errors at work. But I thought I was okay when the clinic got your notification.”

“My notification?”

“We monitor and update all of our client files, like whenever there’s a miscarriage, a stillbirth or a crib death we update the file. When your doctor alerted us to your terrible crash, your husband’s death and Tyler’s death, I was sad. But also-and oh, God forgive me-I was relieved because I thought that this would end my dealings with the study group.”

“What do you mean?”

“At that time they’d called demanding more DNA information on Tyler’s file. I told them I was finished with them because Tyler had just died in a car accident. They said, ‘Oh we know about that. Your information is incorrect. We’ve recovered that case.’ And I said, ‘What do you mean you’ve recovered that case?’ and they said, ‘That child is actually alive. Our work continues.’”

“What!”

“I was so terrified, so overcome with guilt. I called you to somehow let you know that your baby is alive.”

“Who are these people, Polly?”

“I’m so sorry. Come back tomorrow, I’ll give you my files. I’m so messed up with Brad and everything. I need to sleep.”

“Wait! Polly, what is this ‘operation’? What are they talking about?”

“I don’t know.” She started to sob. “I’m so scared. All they said was that it was going to change everything and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.”