The Cure (23 page)

And interspersed with these other emotions was one of guilt. He hadn’t really been thinking ahead when he had given Erin an abbreviated version of what had happened, and of his knowledge of Steve Fuller. He hadn’t considered he might end up in an extended relationship with her—if they lived through the next twenty-four hours, that was. He could always go back and tell her the full story. She would understand that he had captured the essence of the situation even though he had skipped parts of the tale. Understand that they had not been long on time, and that he had doubted she trusted him completely—or at all, for that matter—so he had decided to cut corners; decided it was best to keep things simple and straightforward and not confuse the issue.

Still, he hated to think she might consider the abbreviated version of the story a deception, even if he had done it for the right reasons. How relevant were the parts he left out anyway? His mind drifted back to when it had all begun. He decided to replay what had actually happened in his mind and compare it to what he had told her.

Hansen’s eyes were fixed on the motel television, on which a morning show was being broadcast. A plump, cheerful woman was teaching the audience how to whip up healthy desserts. But his mind’s eye was seeing the inside of a small apartment, furnished with IKEA furniture—all the rage in the underfunded graduate school community—and a woman named Morgan Campbell, whom he had dated for many months, but with whom he had never reached the level of infatuation he already felt for a woman named Erin Palmer.

25

“SO WHAT DO
you have planned today while I’m killing myself changing bedpans and dealing with asshole doctors?” said Morgan Campbell, already knowing the answer. “Staying in?”

Kyle Hansen nodded. “Another brutal day of thinking.”

Morgan shook her head as she adjusted her white nurse’s uniform, which he had to admit she filled out quite nicely. “Well, don’t hurt yourself,” she said enviously.

Sitting around thinking about quantum physics and computer logic did seem like a cushy job, Hansen knew. But he really did find it brutal most of the time. Even so, it wasn’t wise to complain to someone who had to deal with a cranky boss or physical labor. The truth was that when he was engaged in physical labor, he was in heaven compared to the torture of trying to attack a problem mentally for hours on end. It was agony. And only the occasional epiphany made it all worthwhile. Not only did these come far too infrequently, but even after he had hit on an astonishing insight to move things forward, the next unsolvable problem would immediately present itself.

He had read a description of the life of a novelist, and decided his life wasn’t too far different.
Writing is easy,
Gene Fowler had famously observed.
All you do is stare at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead
. Kyle knew this was true of theoretical physics as well. But there was no way Morgan would ever understand this, and he couldn’t very well whine about staying home in his cushy apartment suffering all day.

“Dinner tonight?” asked Morgan.

He sighed. “Maybe. Let’s play it by ear. I’ll call you around three.”

Hansen planted a perfunctory kiss on her lips and closed the door to his apartment gently behind him. They had been dating for nine months now, and he suspected they both knew it wasn’t working all that well. He didn’t believe in love at first sight, but after nine months of dense dating, and spending maybe half of their nights together, no spark had ignited. He couldn’t imagine what might change. They knew each other very well, and either they were capable of falling madly in love with each other or not—in this case
not
.

Which actually was a good thing when he really thought about it. Morgan seemed pretty dead set against children. Not that they had had too many talks about their possible future—another telltale sign. Her not wanting to have children was a deal breaker as far as he was concerned.

When he had been fourteen, an aunt, much younger than his mother, had moved nearby with two toddlers in tow. Until that point he had had few experiences with kids, and those few had been negative, mostly involving sitting in airplanes while unruly toddlers kicked the back of his seat for an entire flight, or having them wail nearby and ruin his meal in a restaurant.

But these two kids, Michael and Jana, had visited often and spent the night frequently. He had forged an instant bond that only strengthened as they aged. They were adorable. Endlessly charming and amusing. He had always loved dogs, but he grew to love tiny ambulating humans even more, who were always saying adorable things and who saw the world in such fresh and interesting ways.

So it was good it wasn’t working out with Morgan, because in their hearts they both knew it was time to move on. He needed to find someone with whom he could settle down, and Morgan was a trap. Comfortable but not exciting. The sex and companionship were nice, so instead of having to spend time and psychic energy on the dating scene, he could focus on his work. But if he wasn’t careful, he could find himself waking up in three or four years without anything having changed in the relationship. He needed to grow some balls and end this. It was the humane thing to do for both of them, and he didn’t think this was just a rationalization.

A loud rap on the door broke Hansen from his thoughts. He pulled it open, certain he would find Morgan standing there, having forgotten to tell him something. Instead a tall, distinguished-looking man of about forty appeared, his short hair prematurely peppered with white. “Mr. Hansen?” he said, his voice soothing and confident. Not waiting for a reply he added, “My name is Steve Fuller.”

“What can I do for you?” said Hansen.

“I’m glad you asked that,” said Fuller smoothly, with an insincere smile. And then, too fast for Hansen’s eyes to follow, Fuller’s right hand darted from his side, where he had concealed a tiny syringe, and jabbed a sharp needle through Hansen’s slacks and into his upper thigh.

Hansen felt himself go wobbly and lowered himself to the carpet while he could still cushion his landing.

“As it turns out, you can do quite a lot for me,” said Fuller, and these last words were as ephemeral to Hansen as writing on water as he slipped into a dreamless oblivion.

26

INSIDE A ROOM
at the Saguaro Inn, Kyle Hansen’s mind was wrenched back into the present and his heart leaped to his throat.

At first he couldn’t grasp why this had happened, searching for a cause for this sudden arrhythmia and panic. But an instant later he realized what his subconscious, and his racing heart, had realized already: a picture of Erin Palmer was on the television he had been facing. He grabbed the remote beside him and cranked up the volume.

Erin’s picture filled the entire screen, while the unseen female anchor of the local Tucson news station did a voiceover: “… and a reward of fifty thousand dollars has been offered for any valid information about the location of Miss Palmer, who is thought to be in Arizona or adjoining states. Authorities have also said that this is not a recent photo of Miss Palmer…”

Bull,
thought Hansen. The photo looked as if it had been taken yesterday.

“… so she could now have a different hair color, style, etc. If anyone thinks they have seen this woman, or has any information as to her whereabouts, please call nine-one-one, or the number on the screen.”

The message ended and returned to the morning show where a short, balding man was now talking about his toy train collection—the largest in the country.

Kyle threw himself from the bed and began dressing. As he did he heard the shower stop. He rapped on the door and then opened it to find Erin toweling off. She looked self-conscious for just a moment, even though the towel was draped around parts he had seen very closely the night before, and in his opinion were far too flawless for any self-consciousness.

“Your picture was on TV,” he blurted out. “They’re offering a reward for any information that can help find you. Which means that every cop in the Southwest is looking for you as well.”

Erin’s jaw dropped. Kyle turned away to give her some privacy as she hurriedly finished toweling off and began to dress. “How is that possible?” she asked.

“Steve Fuller must be very well connected. And he’s pulling out all the stops. You’ve done worse than threaten his life. You’ve threatened his very being. His personality. His mind. Apparently he’s taking this personally.”

“Did they say I committed a crime?”

“I came in late to the broadcast, but I doubt it. I think they want to keep you as mysterious as possible.”

“Do you think we should lay low here even longer?”

“Not unless you were wearing a mask when you checked in. You’re face is pretty unforgettable if you ask me.”

“Shit!” said Erin as the full realization hit. She was in some kind of mad death spiral. Her life had become a runaway train.

How had it come to this? She had been a model citizen all of her life until she had let Drake, in the guise of Hugh Raborn, suck her in, convince her to rethink her ethics, and break the law. And now she was in the center of a nightmare with no end in sight. But that was the danger of electing to set foot on a slippery slope. And it wasn’t as though she hadn’t been able to see that the walls of this particular slope were made of pure ice—she had just chosen to ignore this.

So she had been drawn in. Inexorably. As though in her zeal to understand and attack the condition of mind that had destroyed her family, her reason had been impaired. When the first inmate died in his sleep, she had already taken that first step from the cliff, and gravity had taken hold. She couldn’t find a way to reverse course. And even as her thinking evolved, she had gotten herself in so deep she felt she had no other option but to see it through to the end. And she had developed a relationship with a man she had thought to be Hugh Raborn, biotechnology executive.

Part of her didn’t want to let him down. And the more she expressed her concerns to him, the more zealous and impatient he became. He applied subtle psychological pressures for her to continue, so much so that her subconscious wasn’t eager to find out what he might do if she did pull the plug. Would he threaten her with blackmail?

And all the while she was continuing to immerse herself in philosophy and ethics; to evolve, grow, and see the world differently than she ever had before.

Now she was being hunted by an arms dealer intent on killing her, and by every citizen and police officer in the area.

She thought of her advisor, Jason Apgar. Of her ray of sunshine, Lisa Renner, whom she already loved, after knowing her only a short time. What would they be thinking when they saw her face on TV?

Would Erin ever be able to explain?
Could
she explain? After all, she had to face the truth: she was one of the villains in this tale.

And she had to admit the very real possibility that she wouldn’t live out the week.

“Kyle, I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered, now fully dressed. “I want out.” Was her life really to be cut short just when she had found someone like Kyle Hansen? She felt cheated.

Hansen sighed and gave her an empathetic nod that said, “I feel your pain,” but not one that said, “I support this decision.”

Erin stared into his eyes. “I know how much is riding on seeing this through,” she said. “But I can just give the winning gene mixture to you. I know I can count on you to check things out before you give it to Drake. I can turn myself in. Take my chances with the police. Explain everything. Do whatever time I have coming—God knows I know my way around a prison. The more I struggle, the tighter this noose is becoming, and the more criminal acts I commit in the name of staying free. And I’m endangering you as well.”

Hansen sighed deeply. “No one wishes more than I do that you weren’t caught up in this,” he said. “But if you turn yourself in, Fuller will get to you. Period. It doesn’t matter how honest the cop, he’ll have the correct paperwork to have you delivered into his hands. Look at how easily one of his men was able to impersonate an FBI agent to confirm that the treatment works. He’ll torture you to find out what you know about me and Drake.” He turned away. “And then he’ll kill you,” he finished, his eyes becoming moist as he said this, as though the thought of losing Erin was unbearable to him.

Without knowing exactly how it happened, they found themselves in each other’s arms.

“You’re right,” she acknowledged unhappily. “I know you’re right. But it’s never going to end, is it? We’ll be on the run our entire lives.” She managed to force a wry smile. “Which at this point will be very short—so at least there’s that.”

Hansen shook his head. “No. We’ll have to survive for a month or two—which won’t be easy. But once the genie is out of the bottle, killing us won’t change anything. Psychopathic Fuller would do it anyway, just out of hatred and spite. And for the pleasure it would give him. But once he’s cured, he won’t be the same man. He’ll call off the dogs.”

Erin nodded and her strength and resolve seemed to return. “Sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what got into me. I guess it’s been a stressful few days.”

Hansen took her face gently in both hands and tilted it up, kissing her lightly on the lips. “No one has ever handled this much stress any better.”

They separated. “So now what?” she asked with a sigh. “This room could already be surrounded for all we know.”

“If that’s the case then we’re well and truly screwed. So let’s imagine we still have at least a little more time before they learn we’re here.” He paused. “Think. What do we do? You’re the brains of this outfit.” He looked her up and down. “And the beauty as well,” he added appreciatively.

“What are you?”

“Hopefully, the one who inspires the brains of the outfit to come up with an idea.”

Erin smiled. “Okay. Let’s think out loud.” She paused. “I guess the first thing is, we need transportation. We won’t stand a chance on foot.”