The Immortalists (8 page)

“Dr. Draman!” the pilot shouted, descending from the small jet and rushing across the tarmac to relieve him of the duffel he was carrying. “I’m James, Chris Graden’s pilot.”

“Good to meet you. This is my wife, Carly.”

“I was told there would be three of you,” he said as he shook Carly’s hand.

“We decided to leave our daughter with a friend.”

The man nodded and started toward the plane with them close behind. Richard glanced over at his wife and saw that she still looked vaguely ill.

“It’s going to be OK,” he said, squeezing her hand.

They hadn’t been separated from Susie since the day she was born, and leaving her with a near stranger was one of the hardest things they’d ever done. But there had been little choice—while Richard had stuffed his and Carly’s passports in his duffel before they’d fled their home, Susie didn’t have one. And while there had been more than a few tears when they’d left, they hadn’t been Susie’s. She’d taken immediately to Seeger and was already planning a host of parental-supervision-free activities that he seemed genuinely excited to be involved in.

Richard took the seat across from his wife and waited for the pilot to return to the cockpit before leaning forward and putting a hand on her knee. “Did you see her waving from the porch when we were leaving? She didn’t even look upset. In fact, I think she’s enjoying the adventure of it all.”

“I know, but—”

“She’s going to be fine, Carly. With everything she’s been through, she’s stronger than either you or I ever will be.”

“Maybe we should call. I’m not sure I was completely clear on all her medications. Burt—”

“You wrote a dissertation on it.”

“I didn’t—”

“Carly. Seriously. I saw it. There were diagrams.”

She actually managed a thin smile at that.

“We’re only going to be gone for a few days. Long enough to talk this through with Chris and figure some things out.”

She nodded, turning her attention to the window as the plane accelerated down the runway. She continued to stare into the glare outside, as though she could steal one last glimpse of their daughter before they broke through the clouds.

He resisted the same urge, closing his eyes and listening to the white noise fill the otherwise empty plane. He hadn’t been able to sleep more than two hours straight since the night he’d been arrested, and right now all he could do was try to rest enough to regain his ability to think straight. He pictured snowcapped mountains reflected in the still water of a lake—a stress-reduction technique he’d learned from a magazine in his dentist’s waiting room. The serene image was broken almost immediately by the partially hidden face of the man who had tried to kill Susie, then the syringe, and finally by the strangled cries of his daughter as she fought desperately to untangle herself from her sheets. What if the killer found Seeger’s address somehow? What if her heart finally gave out? What if she needed them and they weren’t there?

He shook his head subtly, trying to drive away the panic rising in him. Since the mountain lake wasn’t going to work, he turned his attention to what he could do to figure out what the hell was happening to him and his family. Was there some way to track the man who was in Susie’s room? Maybe his neighbors had seen something—a vehicle or what direction he’d run. What about the deaths of Annette and Troy? Was there some way he could get information on the investigations and look for discrepancies or things that the police had missed? What about asking around about pharmaceutical companies looking into things similar to Annette’s work? Or even individual researchers…

His eyes popped open and he looked at his wife, who was still staring out the window. “Carly! Do you remember Ray Blane?”

She turned to him, but it took a few moments for her to track on what he’d said. “He worked at Cal Tech, right? We went to a party at his house a few years ago. Why?”

“A while back, I heard he was working on something roughly along the lines of the stuff on Annette’s drive.”

“So?”

“So, I was wondering if he’s still pursuing it. If he is, maybe he’d know if any big companies are working on anything similar. Or he could have had problems too—Troy told me that weird things were happening but that at the time he just dismissed them.”

“Can you call him?”

“I don’t see why not.”

Richard used his sat phone to call information and then went through the switchboard at Cal Tech to get to Blane’s office. It was a little late to expect him to be in the office, but he picked up almost immediately.

“Ray? This is Richard Draman. How are you?”

“Richard? Hi. I’m fine. How are
you
?”

The inflection was a little too pronounced, suggesting that the story about his trouble with PharmaTan had already made its rounds.

“I’m good. I had a quick question for you, though. A while back, I heard you were doing some theoretical work on the human genome. Are you still involved in that?”

“No. I gave up on that years ago.”

“Do you mind if I ask why? Did it turn out to be a dead end?”

“I don’t know about the dead end. August Mason seems to think it’s there, and it’s hard to argue with the guy, but I can’t say I ever found it.”

“Then why did you stop?”

“It wasn’t a scientific decision. I got a huge grant, and they wanted me to focus on other things. I would have liked to have kept dabbling, but they were adamant that it was a waste of time and they weren’t paying me to screw around. Why do you ask?”

Richard ignored the question. “Could you tell me specifically who wanted it killed?”

“Chris Graden put together the grant.”

Richard felt his breath catch in his chest.

“Richard? Hello? Are you still there?”

“I’m here.”

“Yeah, Chris was hell-bent on me walking away from that research, and based on the number of zeros on the check he got me, I wasn’t really in a position to argue, you know? Shit, it was probably a waste of time anyway. If Mason couldn’t figure it out, what were my chances? Hey, how’s Susie doing? Last time we—”

“Good,” Richard said, cutting him off. “She’s good. Look, I appreciate the information, but I’ve got to run, OK?”

“Sure. I understand. Good luck, Richard. I hope things turn out OK for you.”

He hung up the phone and stared down at it, trying to put what he’d just heard into some kind of context.

“Richard?” Carly said. “Are you all right?”

“It was Chris.”

“What?”

He didn’t answer, and Carly grabbed his hand. “Richard, you’re starting to scare me. What did he say?”

“It was Chris,” he repeated, glancing toward the cockpit to confirm that the pilots couldn’t overhear their conversation. “He’s the one who killed Ray’s project.”

She released him and pulled back a little. “What are you saying? You think Chris is involved in this? You know that’s crazy, right? We’ve been friends for years. He’s done nothing but help us ever since we met him.”

Richard looked out the window at the endless ocean below. He had no idea where they were except that it was a hell of a long way from home. A long way from Susie.

“Has he really?”

“Helped us?” she replied. “Hell yes. He just gave you a check for twenty-five thousand dollars out of his own pocket, remember?”

He didn’t respond, just staring out the window.

“Richard?” she said, her fear starting to turn to wariness.

“Another way to think about it is that he’s never given me enough money to move my work forward in any real way,” Richard said, finally meeting her eye. “He gives me just enough to make sure I tell him everything I’m doing in hopes of getting more funding.”

“You’re saying that he’s just been spying on you all these years?”

“Look, I know how it sounds, Carly. But he’s the constant in all this, isn’t he? He’s known us since the very beginning of the Progeria Project, and he’s known Annette even longer. He killed Ray’s research. He miraculously appears at the police station an hour after I get arrested—”

“Richard…”

“When did that guy show up in Susie’s room?” he said, ignoring her. “A few days after we told Chris we were going to go to the mat with PharmaTan and force them to give me back Annette’s data.”

“Richard! Enough. OK? Enough. Chris is our closest friend in the world, and you’re criticizing him for giving you money and getting you out of jail.”

Richard shook his head, an overwhelming sense of anger and betrayal building in his gut. “And now he tells me to put my entire family on a plane out of the country.”

“Are you actually suggesting that Chris would hurt us? Would hurt Susie?”

He reached for his seat belt and flipped open the clasp. “All I know right now is that we’re getting the hell off this plane.”

Richard yanked back the curtain separating the jet’s cabin from the cockpit, his panicked expression only partially feigned. “We have to land! Now!”

Both pilots twisted around in their seats, one nearly spilling coffee on himself.

“What is it?” asked the one who had introduced himself only as James. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my wife. She’s lost consciousness.”

James jumped to his feet and looked to the back of the plane as the copilot took over the controls. Carly was hanging unnaturally over the arm of her seat, held in place only by her seat belt. Despite her reluctance, she was playing the part with real artistry.

“She has a history of seizures brought on by altitude, but they’ve always been mild,” Richard said. “I don’t know why this time is different, but we have to get down.”

“We’re over the ocean, Doctor. The—”

“Please. You have to do something. It’s rare, but people have died from her condition. There must be somewhere we can land.”

The pilot chewed on his lip and looked back again at Carly’s still form. “There are islands. We’ll find the closest one with an airstrip that can accommodate us. Go back and take care of your wife. We’ll get her down as soon as we can.”

Richard thanked him profusely and then rushed to the back of the plane, making a show of gently straightening Carly in her seat before sitting down across from her and taking her hand.

She opened one eye slightly. “Are we landing?”

“I don’t know. We’ll see.”

Less than five minutes passed before the pilot started down the aisle toward them, though the gun and roll of duct tape Richard half expected was nowhere in sight.

“How is she, Doctor?”

Either he was a hell of an actor, or he was genuinely concerned. It made sense, Richard supposed. In the unlikely event that Chris really was involved in all this, there was no reason to believe his pilots would be complicit.

“I don’t know. I can’t get her to respond.”

“We’ve found a strip and called in a medical emergency. Strap in. We’re going to start down in just a few minutes.”

The sensation of the wheels hitting the ground wasn’t as reassuring as Richard had hoped. The descent had been long enough for the initial shock of Ray’s revelation to wear off and reality to set in. If he walked off this plane, he would be turning his back on the only person who actually had the power to help them.

He slipped out of his seat and leaned close to his wife as he unbuckled her belt. “I think it’s time for you to start feeling a little better.”

After throwing their duffel over his shoulder, he pulled her to her feet, supporting her as she hobbled unsteadily up the aisle.

“You’re back with us,” the pilot said, sounding sincerely relieved. “Are you feeling better?”

Carly smiled weakly and mumbled an unintelligible answer as he opened the door and helped guide her down the steps.

The sun was headed toward a cloudless horizon, and Richard put a hand up to shade his eyes. There wasn’t much to see—a beat-up airstrip, scrub brush trying to take hold in sandy soil, a single building that looked abandoned.

The only thing that didn’t look like it was in the process of being reclaimed by nature was a tiny blue pickup with a fabric canopy shading the bed. A tall black man unfolded himself from the driver’s seat and jogged up to them.

“I’m Henry,” he said in a pleasant island drawl before taking Carly’s elbow and leading her toward the truck. “I’ve called the clinic, and they’re waiting for you.”

Richard turned back to the pilot and offered his hand. “It was just the altitude. She’s going to be fine. I can’t thank you enough for finding a place to land so fast. I’m not sure what would have happened if you hadn’t.”

“It was no problem, Dr. Draman. It’s what we get paid for. Do you want me to come with you to the clinic?”

“Thanks, but no. We’ll manage. I’m not putting her on another plane—not for a while at least. We’ll figure something out ourselves.”

The pilot seemed confused. “You’re saying you want us to leave you here?”

“We’ll be fine. Tell Chris that I’ll call him in the next day or so to make a plan. Maybe we could hire a boat or something.”

He clapped the pilot on the shoulder and then headed for the truck. The driver was already behind the wheel, and Carly was lying on a stretcher in the bed. He climbed in next to her and waved to the baffled pilot as the vehicle started up a rutted dirt road.

They rode in silence for a few minutes, Carly watching the tops of the scrubby trees flash by and him watching the road to make sure no one was following.

“Happy now?” she said, finally.

“Look, I know you feel like I overreacted—”

“Overreacted? You think? I mean, all you did was have me pretend to be in a coma so we could get off a jet owned by one of our only friends, only to be stranded…” Her voice faded for a moment. “Where the hell are we?”

It was a question he’d been too preoccupied to consider. Steadying himself on the top of the cab, he leaned out toward the driver’s open window.

“Excuse me. What island is this?”

“Mayaguana,” the man shouted over the sound of the wind.

“Where’s that?”

“Near Acklins.”

Neither place rang a bell. “How many people live here?”

“I don’t really know. Maybe three hundred?”

Richard pulled back and looked down at his wife. “Mayaguana.”

“Great,” she said, the frustration she’d undoubtedly felt since they left home now overpowering her ability to hide it. “I’ve been planning a vacation here for years.”

“No reason to be sarcastic. I just—”

The sound of an explosion filled Richard’s ears, and he instinctively threw himself over his wife as the truck jerked hard to the right. Jesus, was someone shooting at them? Was their driver hit?

She tried to squirm out from beneath him as the truck slowed, but he kept her pinned down. When he dared peek over the truck’s bed to see if there was sufficient cover for them to run, Carly was finally able to get the leverage to push him off.

“Tire,” she said over what he now realized was the flapping of shredded rubber. “It’s just one of the guy’s rotted old tires, Richard.”

By the time they climbed over the gate, the driver already had the jack out and Richard was starting to feel fairly stupid.

“Do you need help?” Carly said.

“I can manage,” the man said. “You seem much better. I’m happy to see it.”

“Thanks. I feel better.”

Richard scanned the low dunes around them and then the road behind. Was the tire blowing at that moment just another of a long line of coincidences or had someone caused it to happen?

Carly seemed to read his mind and clasped a sweaty hand on his shoulder before pointed at Chris’s jet heading out over the ocean. “There goes our ride.”

“Carly, I—”

She ignored him and started up the road the way they’d come, dragging him along with her.

“I’m really starting to worry about you,” she said when they were out of earshot of the driver.

“I know this seems…” His voice faded for a moment. “Annette and Troy. What happened to Susie. I just can’t chalk this all up to chance.”

“You’ve taken on so much, Richard. Work, blame, responsibility. I’ll never understand how you handled it for this long. Anyone else in the world would have thrown themselves off that bridge you were talking about. But you need to think about the possibility that you’ve become…overwhelmed. No one could blame you if you finally just needed to escape. Maybe this is your way of—”

“Don’t psychoanalyze me, Carly.”

“All I’m saying is that after everything that’s happened, we left our sick daughter with a man we barely know. And now you believe that our best friend is trying to kill us based on a thirty-second phone conversation with a guy you haven’t talked to in years.”

“I assume you have a point?” he said, the defensiveness in his voice sounding pathetic even to him.

“I was willing to go along with this,” she responded, watching Chris’s plane fade into the horizon. “I love you and I’m more grateful than you could ever know for what you’ve done—what you’ve sacrificed—for Susie. But this is a bridge too far. I’m not going to stand here and watch you destroy yourself and every chance she and the other kids have over a—”

Her words caught in her throat, and she jerked to a stop, eyes still fixed on the horizon.

By the time he looked up, the dull thump of a distant explosion had reached them, vibrating the humid air in a way that penetrated deep into his chest.

A tiny yellow smear was visible where Chris’s jet had been a few moments before. Richard squinted at it, unable to fully comprehend what he was seeing until a black streak of smoke began arcing downward.

They stood there in silent shock, unable to speak as they watched the plane spiral into the ocean.