Megan's Cure (16 page)

Chapter 32

IT WAS A humid 70 degrees at 10 am when Enzo Lee’s red-eye flight from California to Savannah landed at the airport.
 
By the time he rented a car and drove the 25 minutes into the city, it still was well before noon and he had more than two hours before he was to meet Novak.
 

As he left the freeway and headed through the old part of the city and toward the historic district that runs along the Savannah River, he remembered why he had found the place so charming during his only visit more than a decade earlier.

Central Savannah was like a movie set conjured up to depict the Antebellum South.
 
Every three or four blocks there was a small park with giant oaks dripping with Spanish moss surrounded by mansions, stately churches and three-story row houses – many of them more than two centuries old.

Lee parked and walked two blocks and down a set of stairs to the riverfront area which was 15 feet below the rest of the downtown.
 
It was now a parkway filled with broad walkways, planters and benches.
 
Shops catering to tourists filled the row of old buildings away from the river.
 
But it wasn’t hard to imagine the day when English sailing ships were tied up along the same stretch of river. The buildings that now held antiques and ice cream shops stored cotton bales then until the visiting ships could take them back to the English textile mills.

After a 20-minute stroll, Lee made his way back to the street level and walked down Bull Street away from the river.
 
Every few blocks he passed through another square surrounded by the gigantic oaks and with a statue in the middle honoring a Revolutionary War hero or a Georgia founding father.

Lee finally reached Chippewa Square.
 
The bronze statue here depicted James Oglethorpe, the founder of Georgia.
 
He wore the waistcoat, high boots and tricorn hat of a Revolutionary Era general and held an unsheathed sword.

Lee sat in the shade on a bench in front of Oglethorpe and two snarling lions perched at the base of the monument.

After five minutes, a thin, lanky man with white, swirling hair sat next to him.
 
Lee recognized him from a photograph he had seen online, even though Novak had been at least a decade younger when it was taken.

“Mr. Lee?” said Novak.

“The same,” said Lee, nodding at Novak and giving him a smile.
 
“Roxanne sends her regards.”

“Ah,” said Novak.
 
“Roxanne.
 
My contact with reality.”

“Hmm,” said Lee.
 
“Well, she certainly seems well grounded.
 
And she’s very worried about you.”

“I know…I know,” said Novak, wistfully.
 
“It’s delicate.
 
Very delicate.
 
She wants to help me…as is her habit.
 
I don’t think she fully appreciates the danger.
 

“This may be hard to believe,” he continued.
 
“Although any doubts I had vanished long ago.
 
There are people willing to kill over this…”

“Over Roxaten?” asked Lee.

“Yes.
 
Roxaten,” said Novak.
 
“And what Roxaten could lead to.
 
The potential.
 
It’s enormous.
 
Much more than I could have guessed…even as recently as two years ago.”

“Okay,” said Lee.
 
“Doctor…shall I call you Doctor Novak?”

“Walter is fine,” said Novak.
 

“Okay,” said Lee.
 
“Enzo works for me.
 
As I said, I’m willing to listen and be convinced.
 
I’m not a scientist.
 
But if you can break it down for me, I’ll do the best I can.
 
I don’t imagine we can get through it all sitting here in the park.
 
Is there somewhere else we can go?
 
Do you mind my asking where you and Megan are staying?”

Novak nodded across the square at a building that faced it.
 
It was a brown row house.
 
On each of its three floors were large windows with dark wooden shutters that stood open, framing each opening.

“We have the top flat,” said Novak.
 
“It belongs to an old friend.
 
He’s on sabbatical.
 
There’s room enough for you to stay while you’re here.
 
In fact, I’d prefer it.”

Lee studied Novak for a moment.
 
Then he nodded in understanding.

“Fewer loose ends,” said the reporter.

“Yes,” said Novak.
 
“These people are relentless.
 
I don’t know how they are doing it.
 
But they seem to know where we’re going before we do.”
 

Chapter 33

THE FIRST THING that Lee noticed when he walked into the third floor flat off Chippewa Square behind Walter Novak were the bruises on Megan’s face and neck.
 
They were starting to fade but they must have been painful.
 
He didn’t say anything.
 
He would ask her about them when they were alone.
 
And he made a silent promise that he wouldn’t leave her alone with Novak until he was absolutely sure she would be safe.

“Hi,” Megan said brightly when she saw him.
 
She put down the paperback book she had been reading and sat up perkily with a ready smile.
 
She wore blue jeans with a yellow T-shirt that read: “Girls Rule.”

 
After introductions were made, Lee could tell that Megan was eager to say something, barely able to hold it back.

“Are you Chinese?” she finally blurted out.

“Half,” replied Lee.
 
“My mother is…was Chinese.
 
My father wasn’t.
 
He was Scottish and Italian.”
 
Lee was accustomed to being mistaken for a variety of nationalities and ethnic groups.
 
Filipinos, Mexicans, Native Americans…even Turks and Iranians had mistakenly claimed him as their own.

Megan nodded her head, arching her eyebrows knowingly.
 
Lee winked at her and she smiled back.

Lee wasn’t sure how freely he and Novak could talk with Megan there.
 
So, he decided to ask her about everything that had happened since the day she saw Novak outside her school yard.
 

It tumbled out of her in a torrent.

The first hotel.
 
The table full of games.
 
Waffles with blueberry syrup…her first time.
 
Learning how to paddle a canoe.
 
Catching the fish.
 
Swimming in the cold clear water of the lake, so different than the ocean off her Gulf Coast home.
 
Teaching Walter the best way to cook fresh fish.
 
The forays to buy clothes.
 
Her rationale behind her style choices.

It sounded like someone describing summer camp.
 
As she talked and exhibited her obvious affection for Novak, Lee’s worries about any mistreatment by the scientist began to dissipate.
 
But he also noticed that she made no mention of being pursued, fears in that vein or anything else that would account for her bruises.
 
He decided to wait.
 
He knew he had a lot of ground to cover with Novak and Megan.
 
He wanted to hear it all, parts of it more than once so he could absorb it all and detect inconsistencies.
 
Lee needed to be able to weigh what was true and what it meant.
 
He wanted to get to know them, even if it took a couple of days.
 
He needed to know how reliable and trustworthy they were.

They seemed to trust him.
 
Indeed, they seemed relieved to have someone else share in what was happening.
 
He hadn’t dealt a lot with children, but instinct told him to give Megan the time he could to let her reach the difficult parts of her journey on her own.

It was evening when Novak left to buy some groceries and then pick up a pizza and a salad for their dinner at an Italian restaurant on his way back.
 
Lee agreed to a game of chess with Megan using an elaborate board and set that occupied a place of honor on a game table in the flat.
 
Novak had taught her the rudiments and she wanted to test her knowledge.

They were in the middle of an initial skirmish of pawns when Lee asked her about the bruising on the side of her face and neck.

Megan’s hand froze over the pawn she was getting ready to move.
 
She stared at Lee.
 
Then her hand moved to her neck, pressing against it as she moved her head back and forth, feeling the last of the soreness that lingered there.
 
The sensation unlocked all the memories of that night as well as the terror.
 
Her eyes filled and she looked down in her lap.

“They came after us when we were at the lake,” she said, looking up at Lee.
 
“Walter tried to stop them.
 
He crashed the car but it…it wasn’t enough.
 
I tried to hide…in the railroad yard…but the man found me.
 
He…I thought he was going to choke me.”

Megan’s hand went back to her throat.

“He was carrying me when Walter hit him,” she continued.
 
“I think that’s what happened.
 
Then we got away.
 
We went to the farmhouse.
 
But we’re afraid.
 
They’ll come again.”

“Do you know why, Megan?” asked Lee.
 
“Do you know why they are after you and Walter?”

She shrugged.

“It has to do with the cancer,” she said.
 
“Beating the cancer.
 
It did something to me…to my body.”

Megan shook her head.

“Walter says I carry a story now,” she said.
 
“They don’t want the story to get out.
 
I don’t think I really understand it.”

Lee nodded in sympathy.

“Must be pretty scary for you,” he said.

Megan shrugged again.
 
She was quiet for a moment.

 
“When I was sick everyone thought I was going to die,” she finally said.
 
“I could tell.
 
Even the nurses were crying and they never cry.
 
I thought so, too.
 
Then I didn’t.
 
I got well.
 
It was…it was like magic or something.”

Megan’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“Maybe it was a mistake,” she said.
 
“Maybe I wasn’t supposed to get well.”

She looked at Lee as if he might know the answer.
 
He wanted to tell her “No” and that everything would be okay.
 
But he didn’t know if that was a promise he could make.
 
He didn’t know enough yet.
 
Lee didn’t know what to say.
 
After a moment, her attention went back to the chessboard.
 
She moved her pawn.
 

“You know what was scary?” said Megan, looking up and with her voice back to normal.
 
“The hurricane.
 
Katrina.
 
Now,
that
was scary!”