Ancient Echoes (18 page)

Charlotte inhaled sharply. “That's everything?”

He hesitated. “There's more, but...”

“Yes?” she urged.

“It...
nothing
.”

She studied him openly, gauging his reactions. Finally, she
spoke. “If you told me, you fear I might think you mad.”

He could scarcely believe his ears. “What do you know about
all this?”

She took out her pack of cigarettes. “Do you mind?” she
asked.

He shook his head.

She rolled down the window, lit a cigarette and took a
couple of deep drags before she said, “I said people have been killed. They
were friends, and someone tried to kill me.
More than once.”

His mind raced to the deaths in
Mongolia,
and his feeling of dread when he learned Lionel was missing. “It doesn't make
sense. Deaths connected to Lionel's search? I mean, strange occurrences
happened in Mongolia, but it’s a land of superstition and...
other
things.”

“Quade said the map maker was an expert on Lewis and Clark,”
Charlotte said. “One of the theories I’ve heard is Lewis and Clark were sent to
find a book of alchemy called
The Book of Abraham the Jew.
And that the
book is lost in Idaho.”

“Nowhere in history is there any indication of such a
purpose,” Michael said.

To his surprise, she found a piece of paper in her purse,
and drew a symbol on it—two interlocking triangles with two vees and circle
inside. “Have you ever seen this before?”

He looked at her in shock. “Yes. But how—”

“Where did you see it?”

“I found it in the Chinese tomb in Mongolia,” he said.
“On a sarcophagus.”

Surprise flickered in her blue eyes a moment. “It was also
found in France, showed up in important papers in Jerusalem, and”—she
hesitated—”and on a paper I found with the word Idaho written beneath it.” She
drew in her breath then asked with a frightening intensity. “Do you know what
it means?”

He hesitated as the full import of her words struck. “Some,
in China, consider it a symbol of immortality. It’s apparently connected to
alchemy.”

The color drained from her face. She stubbed out the rest of
the cigarette in the ash tray, then turned away from him, and studied the view
from the passenger window.

“What do you know about it?” he asked.

“We should ask Quade about the symbol,” she said instead of
answering. “See what he knows.”

“Do you trust him?” Michael asked.

“I don’t know.” After a moment she looked at him,
unyielding, her manner infinitely sad. “Find your brother and ignore the rest.
That’s the smartest move.” Her voice choked. “You don’t want to die.”

“This isn’t only about my brother,” he said softly. “Young
university students are in danger. They need our help. They need
your
help.”

She gazed hard at him as he drove, trying to understand him.
In her field of work, she had heard of him before this, and knew his reputation
as a person of intelligence and passion about his work—as well as a womanizer,
someone who lived on the edge, and possibly a thief of international treasures,
drawing Custom’s unwavering suspicion at his every transaction.

His few comments about Mongolia and alchemy had shaken her.
And yet, for some reason she trusted him. He held something back, but she
sensed it was deeply personal, that it touched his core, either the kind of man
he was or wanted to be. Despite that, his words rang true. Against her usual
cautious nature, she found herself liking him.

“Do you know about the Danish scientist?” she asked.

He glanced at her quizzically. Something rattled in the back
of his mind, but he couldn't bring it forth. “No.”

She stared at the distant mountains, wondering if treating
him as an ally would put him in danger. She didn’t want to see him hurt, or
worse. But then, she realized, simply being here searching for his brother did
that, and he deserved to know as much as she did. “What I have to tell you will
be in the strictest confidence,” she said.

He agreed.

She glanced at her wristwatch. “I hope there’s a diner or
something in Salmon city. I haven’t eaten in over a day, and it's a long
story.”

o0o

Sheriff Jake Sullivan also traveled to Salmon City where he
met with the parents of Brian Cutter. Telling them of their son’s death was one
of the hardest things he ever had to do. As soon as the meeting ended, he
called a press conference. He hated it, but had no choice in the high profile
situation.

Only after all that could he do what he had wanted ever
since hearing Polly Higgins’ story about six missing men.

Lemhi County’s law enforcement files were kept in Salmon,
the county seat. There, what he found shocked him.

New York City

JENNIFER VANDENBURG, THE chief
executive officer of Phaylor-Laine Pharmaceuticals, entered her plush Dakota
duplex after work and immediately rushed up the stairs to her daughter's white
and pink, fairy princess decorated bedroom.
“Felicity,
sweetheart, Mommy's home.”

The nurse stood and shook her head, then quietly left the
room.

Felicity opened eyes that were too large and protruded too
far from their sockets. “I missed you, Mommy. You were gone so long.”

Vandenburg sat on the edge of the bed. She had borne this
child, her first and only, when she was forty-three. Now, at fifty-five, with
her hair colored blond, a face-lift, Botox, a strict vegan diet, and a very
sexy personal trainer, she made sure she looked more like the girl's mother
than grandmother. She bent low to kiss her daughter's forehead, careful not to
apply too much pressure, careful not to touch the girl in a way that might
injure her delicate bones and skin.

Vandenburg wanted to tell herself Felicity was better today,
but it would have been a lie. Felicity’s only hope was for someone to find a
cure for Hutchinson-Gilford progeria syndrome. The doctors, hospitals, and
specialists throughout the world were all hopeless.
All
incompetent.

Ironically, for the past ten years, Vandenburg had been CEO
of the top pharmaceutical company in the world, with the most scientists, the
most sophisticated equipment, and the most intelligent researchers. But they
were years away from success.

When she first approached them she found that several of the
scientists had never even heard of progeria. She would have relished firing the
idiots on the spot, but CEOs didn't hold as much power as she once imagined.

She gathered her team, offered bonuses and made threats, but
a cure continued to elude them.

Life couldn't be so cruel as to take her daughter away from
her. She had no one else. Her parents were a tedious old couple living in a
condo she'd bought them in Florida. They never made the effort to understand or
appreciate her. Her ex-husband was a screw-up and a cheat. All she had left
were Felicity...and the disease.

Hutchinson-Gilford progeria syndrome was a genetic anomaly
caused by a de novo dominant G608G mutation in exon 11 of the LMNA gene.
Vandenburg could scarcely believe that one simple mutation could cause her once
beautiful little girl, who had seemed so perfect at birth and in her early
months, to turn into an old woman almost overnight. At age twelve, she had the
body of a ninety-year old.

The doctors said she had at most six months left. Progeria
children rarely lived past age thirteen.

Cruelly, the disease caused no mental deterioration.
Felicity possessed the mind of a normal pre-teen, which meant she knew how
different she looked from everyone else, from her strange, bulbous eyes, to a
beaklike nose, to protruding ears.

“Did you bring me a treat, Mommy?” her daughter asked as she
sat up. Her arthritis made movement painful, and her thin brittle bones made it
dangerous. “I've waited all day for something delicious. My food is so boring!”

Vandenburg reached into her pocket. Her daughter had
developed a love of Milky Way bars after finding one in her nurse's purse and
tasting it. Her diet had been strictly monitored all her life, allowing her
only the healthiest foods. It hadn't done one bit of good. All it meant was
that Felicity would die without having eaten ice cream, cotton candy, peanut
butter, or hot dogs.

Vandenburg unwrapped one end of the bar and handed it over.
Just doing that felt like a major triumph against all the quacks who told her
Felicity would never do anything normal, and that reaching another birthday
would be a miracle.

Severe atherosclerosis was a common result of advanced
Hutchinson-Gilford syndrome, and a heart attack or stroke would most likely
cause her death. Vandenburg knew her daughter's cardiovascular,
cerebrovascular, neurological, musculature and osteopathic status better than
anyone else. Sometimes she wondered why she bothered with anyone from the
medical profession or scientific community.

She didn't believe in miracles. She believed in results. Her
daughter would live, no matter what it took.

As Felicity opened her mouth to gobble down her third bite
of the candy before swallowing what she'd already bitten off, she drew in her
breath and the morsel caught in her throat. She began to choke.

She coughed, but the sticky candy refused to dislodge.

Vandenburg jumped to her feet and eased the girl forward,
wanting to slap her back to force the candy out of her mouth, but feared that
would cause a fracture—a broken back.

“Help!
Kay!” Vandenburg screamed
for the nurse, unsure what to do. “Help me!”

Felicity's tiny hands clawed at her mother, trying to get
Vandenburg to help her breathe. Her desperate, primitive moves caused her
strange little body to seem more abnormal and animal-like than ever.

Vandenburg backed away, fearful, heart-sick, but also
repulsed.

Kay grabbed the girl and practically turned her upside down
in order to dislodge the candy from her throat.

Once Felicity calmed down, Vandenburg left her with her
nurse. In the living room, she poured herself a double shot of brandy,
then
sat on the sofa to ease the drumming of her heart, the
jangling of her nerves.

Her fists clenched in anger. She hated that her plan
proceeded so slowly.

But it would work. It had to!

She held her daughter's future in her hands. There was no
time for anyone else to step in with a miracle cure. She was well aware of all
the bad press about “big pharma” as many called companies like hers. How
surprised they would all be when she succeeded in her goal. She would save not
only her daughter, but also others.
A select group of others.
Her plan would have a profound effect on the world.

Some might call her crazy, but she knew it would work. She
had proof.

Soon, the world would be hers.
And
Felicity’s.

FIRST LIGHT CAST a gray hue over
the sky as Michael loaded a box into the back of his rented Cadillac Escalante.
He turned and watched as a truck careened up the gravel drive then came to a
quick stop beside him. “Sheriff Sullivan.”

Jake got out. “Going somewhere, Rempart?”

“Why not?
We now have somewhere to
go.”

“Are the two Feds inside?” Jake asked.

“Only Charlotte.
Quade helped us
pick up our rental cars last night, but didn’t return with us.”

“Where did he go?”

“I have no idea. Charlotte and I decided if he doesn’t come
back soon, we’re going on without him.”

“Great! That’s all I need! A missing Fed!” Jake stomped
through the door, Michael behind him.

Charlotte stuffed beef jerky into a backpack. Camping gear
was piled by the door. She stopped as Jake entered and her body stiffened.
“This is a surprise.”

“But that isn’t.” Jake bellowed as he gestured at the gear.

“You can’t stop us, Sheriff.” Charlotte turned her back on
him and continued packing.

Jake eyed her, then Michael. “I don’t intend to. In fact, I plan
to join you. The old lady’s story about the six missing men was true. From all
accounts, they went into the wilderness, and no one ever saw them again.”

Suspicion gripped Michael. “How is it you didn’t know about
them before? That disappearance has similarities to this one.”

“That’s why I’m interested. They were well-armed,
paramilitary types. Such guys are taught survival and how to take care of
themselves. Before this, apparently everyone assumed those men had a reason to
disappear, and going into the wilderness area was a means to do it.”

“And now?”
Michael asked.

“Now,” Jake admitted, “I’m not so sure.”

Charlotte shut her eyes a moment. She didn't like hearing
him express doubts. He was a rock.
Or had been.
Just
as quickly she grew irritated with herself, and had no idea why she cared what
he thought. Despite all that, she asked, “We’ve heard the superstitious reasons
that cause Polly and old-timers to stay away from that part of Idaho. I’d like
to know what you think, Sheriff. Why is the area so empty?”

 “It’s simple,” Jake said. “No one goes out there
because there’s nothing to see, hunt or fish. For some reason, not even game
animals are found there in any number. Guess they don’t like the food. Who
knows? But that’s why no one goes. Everything else is just hearsay.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Quade said as he entered the cabin.
They each did a double-take at his heavy shearling jacket, Wranglers, hiking
boots, and wide brimmed cowboy hat. He removed the hat and put it on a chair.
“A theory is that once away from the area, something makes people forget the
details of what they see and
experience,
and they’re
left with a vague dream of an unnamed and unnamable fear. They rationalize the
feeling by saying they saw nothing.”