Essentially Human (18 page)

“You aren’t fragile, are you? I’d say you are stubborn and perhaps in love with inciting drama. I’m not sure yet. But a woman who has spent decades far from human experience, after a traumatic attempt to commit suicide…well, it is difficult to say.” He leaned forward, then carefully stood and took several steps toward her. She couldn’t look away from the fire. How long had it been since she’d seen a fire in a fireplace?

He poured a cup of fragrant liquid into a lovely china cup and held it out to her. Without registering her reaction, she took it and cradled it between her hands, the scent rising to entice with every breath she took. Next, he lifted a turnover and set it on a napkin, again presenting it to her without apologies and she took it.

A single tear ran down her cheek but he made no comment, retaking his chair by the fire. “Eat, Rachel Inez Aster. Or Ria. Or you could choose another name. But whatever you choose, you need to feed your body. Please, eat. I made them just this morning.”

Her hand lifted the turnover and she took a bite. Wondrous flavor filled her mouth as she chewed. Glancing down, she noted the color of the filling, rich and oozing, overflowing with cinnamon and another deep rich spice she didn’t recognize. She swallowed, took another bite and tried to figure it out.

“Nutmeg. And a hint of chai spices.”

Ah, yes. Lifting the tea, she sipped. And so, bite by bite and sip by sip, she left Sam behind, Hammer and the years spent with the Aleena faded away while she opened to therapy unlike anything she’d experienced before. And she welcomed the opportunity.

*****

Steering the car south, Hermione considered her last words to Ria.

“You get your shit together, woman. Or whatever you are. This isn’t all about you. You gave up your place in this world a long time ago and haven’t earned the right to be part of it again. He’s an honorable man and deserves more than a suicide addict.”

Jermaine snorted from his spot near the fire, but didn’t say anything.

She’d reached out and literally turned Ria to face her directly. Nothing stirred those features, but a single tear ran from her right eye. Wiping it away with her thumb, she nodded. “Good. Work it out.”

Leaving the den, she wandered into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of cold water from the refrigerator. Ria’s unseeing eyes unnerved her. Obviously, Sam cared more than he was willing to admit. Imagine being a therapist with a patient who continued to attempt suicide. It would be immensely frustrating. And if she wasn’t a patient? But someone you were charged with keeping safe? She drew a deep breath, thankful for her natural affinity with computers. Much simpler than dealing with people.

The cool water ran down her throat and she considered the shift in her perspective. She no longer thought of Sam first as a naval investigator or interrogator, but as a therapist. The moniker fit him. People were just another puzzle, much more complex than the conspiracies and crimes they’d untangled the last few decades.

Shifting her hands on the steering wheel, she further embraced the idea of like knowing Sam as a friend, and no longer the boss.

A glance to her right revealed Sam, arms crossed loosely, head leaning back against the padded rest, softly snoring. Jermaine had all but collapsed into the back seat. The speedometer clocked her at well over a hundred miles per hour, but the lack of traffic made that velocity more than legal. She’d have to slow down when they reached the area around the capitol, but with luck, they’d be pulling into Drum’s driveway before sunset.

Jarveski had fed them a hearty breakfast before they left his home. Sam stood, staring at Ria, who hadn’t seemingly hadn’t moved since he’d left her on the couch. His mentor set a hand on his arm and urged him to the door.

“I will take care of her. I do understand.”

Both men had been asleep before she’d driven five miles. She smiled ruefully at her reflection in the rear view mirror. The black hair took some getting used to, but it certainly changed her appearance enough to hide from casual glances.

The countryside flashed by, mile after mile. Change drifted around them and for the first time in her entire life, she realized not knowing what was going to happen filled her with excitement, not dread.

Sam took over the last part of the drive while Hermione checked in with her sources, making certain Drummond’s house would be clear of surveillance. From all appearances, agents had been reassigned and they were in the clear. He doubted Homeland security gave up believing Drum would lead them to the fugitives. Perhaps they were simply too busy dealing with the security inroads Hermione spoke of.

The delay in New York, to change vehicles and touch base with the underground, chaffed, but Hermione insisted. And he admitted, it had done his spirit good to walk down Madison Avenue and see citizens watching the news, excited and full of hopeful anticipation. Instead of dread. The established political voices in Washington said little, but the newly elected hinted at changes in the wind and revelations to come.

Sam found it encouraging. No panic, no fear. Just…a buzz. But he’d desperately need that talk with his old friend about Ria. Guilt warred with cynicism and suspicion in regards to his behavior. Add in the revelation that his friend and mentor had been colluding and he couldn’t stop the bouncing ball inside his head.

How had he been so unaware of their collaboration? He recalled introducing them at the memorial service, but little else remained vivid about that day. A deep inhalation, counting to seven and then out his nose…well, it had certainly simplified what he needed to tell Jarveski about Ria.

The man already knew it all. Drum had even deduced the strands visible in the MRI might be something implanted in her hair.

“Drummond examined the recordings of her, using every bit of facial software available, and could find no signs of deception. If she had known of the strands, it seems logical she would have considered them and contemplated some form of escape. Or she would have made more of an effort to hide them. Her unconsciousness betrays her ignorance.” Jarveski spread his hands and smiled slightly. “Drum tasked her alien patron and he admitted as much.”

“He’s been in touch with Drummond the entire time?”

“I don’t believe so, but in the last few weeks, it’s been very regular. Enough to concern the doctor. T’talin reassured both of us that no one was listening in. It’s very difficult to doubt the man, or whatever he is.”

“He’s a male, but…” Sam had leaned forward and rubbed his eyes. “Why not contact us?”

“I believe you were riskier, having no set destination.”

Sam had to let it go. Trying to explain why Ria’s wellbeing mattered so much had drained him. The professor had been merciless, leaving behind more questions than answers.

He had to move forward. His country was on the brink of a reality shift so huge he feared for the general population. First, he’d check in with Drum, then he’d see about allies in Washington.

Hermione snapped her phone closed. “According to Drum, Hammer disappeared two days ago and there has been no word on his whereabouts. The navy tried to find him, citing some disturbance at the site of the last sonar weapon test. But they’ve had no luck. His pet admiral has vanished also. As a result, every item of information he’s supplied in the last few months is under review. You know how fast the worm turns.”

Sam chuckled.

“Drum suggests we park a few blocks away and walk, using the back path. A cruiser still passes the house every hour, like clockwork.”

“Count on the local cops to be obvious.” Jermaine yawned and stretched. “Hope Dad has taken time to restock the frig.”

They pulled into the neighborhood an hour shy of the sun going down. Sam parked where Jermaine recommended and they made their way to the back via the neighbor three doors down. The grass in the yard had grown shaggy and weeds sprouted near the walkways. Jermaine bent and yanked one out as they neared the front, tossed it to side. “Place goes to ruin with Mom gone.”

The door opened and Drum stood, a grin on his face. “Seems like you just left, Jer.”

He hugged his dad. “Not too long, but H took good care of me. What’s to eat?”

The big black man laughed, winked at Hermione and pulled Sam into the kitchen. “Good disguise, all that hair. And you’ve gotten some serious sun exposure.”

Sam studied his friend, noting his weight loss and the lines on his face. “Been a rough few months. But I hear you’ve been busy.”

“I have enjoyed getting to know your old professor. A very astute man. He sent me a heads up. Our clandestine partnership is over. Well, it was time. I think you did well to leave Ria with him.”

“Not much choice right now. She freezes up around me.” Sam examined the room. “Is it secure here?”

“As much as I can make it so. Let’s see what I have to eat and retire to the garage.” He turned as his son slammed the refrigerator door shut.

“When was the last time you went grocery shopping, old man?”

“That bad? It’s just me.” Drum snorted.

“Come on, H. We need to do a grocery run. We can head across the tracks, they don’t know me at that new megastore and we can restock with the jumbo size. Get some protein and ice cream.”

Hermione pulled the keys from her pocket and held the door open as Jermaine stepped back out into the night, head down, muttering about crackers and bread.

Sam pulled out a chair and sat down. “So, they pulled surveillance off of you. When did they come after Jermaine?”

“Knocked on the door the day after he disappeared with Hermione. His friend, Todd, gave him up after they threatened to seize his mom’s house. Can’t blame the kid. Claimed he didn’t know what Jer was doing, only that they’d done the identity swap years ago.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t haul you in.”

“Oh, the head man wanted to but I do have friends among the local peace officers. I admitted I knew Jer had the internship, but had no idea he’d taken it under a false name.” Drum tapped on the table top. “The internet has been full of leaks and the firewalls at work continually fail. Searches for general information turn up all sorts of fascinating secured data. No one is turning a blind eye to the federal government’s involvement in deceiving the populace.”

Leaning back, Sam stared at the ceiling. “It’s about time.”

“How long have you been suspicious, Sam?” Drum lifted an eyebrow. “You’re too smart to have embraced all the propaganda these last few decades.”

“I was approached when I was in graduate school. The underground told me I was on a federal short list to lead up a profile team. I laughed, thinking they were nuts.”

“And?”

“And a week later I was visited by a Naval Captain and asked to help out with the war on terror.” Sam drew a deep breath. “I wasn’t a double agent, but I was a man on the inside. Three times in the last thirty years I’ve been fed information and steered into paths that the department didn’t sanction. I had no idea they were so organized.”

“Good thing we were.” Drum cleared his throat. “They were. I mean they were.”

“Uh huh.” It didn’t matter. Layer upon layer of secrecy is why the underground had been able to help him and prepare the country for the revelations to come. Though he doubted they’d been aware of the aliens deep in the Atlantic.

A tap on the back door saw Drum get up. “Kid must have forgotten something…”

Sam’s instincts rose a second too late. The door burst open and Drum flew back into the kitchen, to fall against the drawers, twitching. A stunner held by a thin man kept him pinned down.

“No moves, Agent Montgomery, or I will up the voltage and stop his heart. Hands up.”

Drum’s eyes blinked and he tried to push up.

“Stay down, Drum.” There were no moves to make. Sam raised his hands and didn’t resist as a second man snapped handcuffs on and yanked him around. Alfred Hammer gazed at him with satisfaction.

“I knew you’d eventually come back. Where is the author?”

“Dead.”

“Scicle, show the agent I am serious.”

Drum moaned as the stunner fired again. Sam swallowed the impulse to throw himself at the weapon holder.

“Now, where is the author?” Hammer’s cold eyes studied him, sending a chill up his spine. The man had no soul. He’d left millions to die rather than cure them, sucked the vitality out of the alternate energy industry, destroyed San Diego… And he’d kill Drum without blinking. But Hermione was free and she’d know what to do.

“I left her with another friend. Far away.”

“How far away?”

“Boston area.”

“Ah, your old mentor. Fine.” Hammer pulled out a cell phone and frowned at it. “Damned nuisance.” Hammer knelt and pulled the probes from Drum’s chest. “You will contact the woman and see her brought to Washington. Dr. Drummond. I’ll exchange her for Agent Montgomery. If you want to see this man alive again, you’ll bring her. You have three days, Jefferson Memorial, at dusk.”

The villain didn’t wait for Drum to acknowledge his words, simple stood and strode from the house. “Bring him.”

Once he was outside he could…the blow to the back of his head destroyed whatever plan he’d considered.

*****

Hermione saw the doorway gaping open and held Jermaine back. “Put the box down, Jer.” She knelt and removed the pistol at her ankle. The young man was suitably cowed that he didn’t argue with her. She carefully made her way to the door and nudged it open further. A chair lay on its side…

“Dad?” Jermaine pushed past her and hurried in to kneel at his father’s side. She checked out the rest of the house, but no sign of Sam. By the time she returned to the kitchen, Drum was sitting in a chair, drinking a glass of water, a hand shaking so much his son needed to steady it.

“What happened, Drum?”

“Hammer took…Sam. Forced him to say where Ria was. Call Jarveski and warn him. We need them here.”

Hermione pulled her cell phone out and called.

Jarveski’s machine picked up. She didn’t waste words. “You need to get Ria and head south. Call from New York and I’ll give you a location to head for. Hammer has Sam and knows where you are. Go! Now!”

The phone clicked and the therapist spoke two words, “We’re gone.”

“Okay.” H turned to survey the Drummonds. “He took Sam, even after getting the information of where Ria is.”

“I don’t think his cell phone would work. He snarled at it and told me to bring Ria to Washington or he’d kill Sam. He wants an exchange.”

“Why would he be so certain we’d be willing to trade?” Jermaine shook his head. “She’s a human being, not ransom.”

“He knows she may not be human and Sam is more important.” Hermione blinked. “Let him have her.”

“No. She is more than human.” Drum rose to his feet, still unsteady. “Jermaine, I need to get to the bunker.”

“You should get to the hospital,” his son objected.

“No, I need to contact T’talin. And get help.”

*****

Ria wandered the music laboratory, fingers lighting on the equipment, the wires, dials and monitors. After traveling across the east coast the last few months, she’d seen a great deal of technology and to her eyes, this work space appeared quite old fashioned. Jarveski puttered about, quite at home. He fussed at a chair that reminded her of a barbershop chair, adjusting its height and angle of recline.

She paused in front of a monitor with a scrolling list of text. Focusing in, she recognized titles from her song list. Seeing them like this, stark against the dark background sharpened her awareness of how melancholy the top ten titles were. A series of numbers followed the titles and she studied them trying to ascertain what they designated.

Figures had never been her strong point. Early in her career, her agent had attempted to explain how royalties, advances and percentages functioned in regards to her book sales and it all blurred into a mishmash of confusion for her.

How she’d protested. But George had persevered and she’d eventually understood most of it. Agreeing with the logic behind it all had never latched on. In fact, her disillusion with publishing in general grew along with understanding it all. Then, being an idiot, she turned her attention to environmental activism and been crucified by those who fought dirty in the name of keeping the country safe.

Shaking her head, she leaned over a chair and lifted a hand to trace the numbers.

“It’s a personal shorthand of how often songs were listened to, what time of day, the first time to the last. I can click a certain title…” He reached around her and tapped on the keyboard and a graph appeared. “Here I can see frequency, identify trends. And examine the lyrics.” He pointed to a second monitor, set up next to the first and she realized it had changed also. “I can look at the biographies of the songwriter, the vocalist, any of the factors that can affect how the listener identifies with the music in question.”

She straightened. “But you can’t know the personal pivotal events associated with when one first heard a song.”

“True, which is why this is just a computer program, but you are necessary for it to grow beyond that limitation. Your honesty and willingness to take part cannot be underestimated. I can extrapolate a great deal, but not the absolute individual connection. Until a few months ago, I was faced by a dead end. I’d gone as far as I could with current technology, though I believed more advanced tools existed. I was denied access to them. Then…” He glanced up at her, the light reflecting off his small spectacles, “…the Aleena stepped in. My data base has grown exponentially, the threads connecting lyric to musical key, to chord progression, to social era, to every possible nuance, is now all here, around us.”