The Immortalists Page 7

  April 18

  “Are you sure I have an Uncle Burt?”

  Susie slid around in the tiny backseat of the truck, testing the unfamiliar sensation of not being strapped into a car seat. She’d bolted awake an hour ago, scared and confused, but had swallowed the story that the events of the night before were nothing more than one of the vivid nightmares she occasionally suffered. And now even that memory had been lost in the excitement of an unannounced road trip into uncharted territory. Despite what the disease had done to her body, she had the same passion for adventure that all children did.

  “Well, he’s not strictly a real uncle,” Richard said, twisting around in the passenger seat and looking down at her. “He’s kind of like your Uncle Chris.”

  The sun had cleared the horizon fifteen minutes ago, illuminating neat rows of suburban houses bordered by carefully manicured lawns. Carly followed the advice of their GPS and turned onto a street as still as a photograph.

  “How come you never talk about him?”

  The device announced that they’d reached their destination in time to save Richard from having to concoct another lie. He faced forward again, examining a small home with the vague feel of a gingerbread house as Carly pulled into the driveway. He hadn’t anticipated gun turrets and barbed wire, but the lawn gnomes weren’t expected either.

  Carly was obviously thinking the same thing, and she looked over at him before turning off the ignition. “Are you sure you got the address right?”

  “Yeah. I mean, this is what it said. Maybe it was wrong.”

  She didn’t look happy as they got out, slamming the door a little harder than necessary and speaking across the hood of the truck at a volume that Susie wouldn’t be able to hear. “This is crazy.”

  “If you have a better idea, I’m listening.”

  “Look, I’m a little scared to go back to the house too. But if Sands finds out you’re gone, the top of his head is going to blow off.” She thumbed back toward the house. “And you barely know this guy.”

  “That’s the point, remember?”

  “When’s the last time you talked to him?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe twelve years ago?”

  “Twelve yea—” She fell silent when the front door opened and a man stepped out onto the porch.

  “Can I help you?”

  They were in the right place. A dozen years had deepened the lines across his sun-damaged face, but the muscles were still visible in his forearms where they emerged from the pushed-up sleeves of an olive drab sweater.

  “Hi, Burt.”

  The man cocked his head and came down the steps, favoring his right leg quite a bit more than the last time they’d seen each other. Carly shot a glance back, her expression configured to let him know that she was unimpressed.

  “Richard?” the man said in a light Southern drawl. “Richard Draman?”

  “It’s been a while. This is my wife, Carly. Carly, meet Burt Seeger.”

  “Of course. But you weren’t the wife back then. You were the new girlfriend. The one who gave Richard those wonderful pastries to bring to the hospital.”

  She smiled uncomfortably, shaking his hand.

  “And this,” Richard said, tapping the driver’s side window where his daughter had her face pressed to the glass, “is Susie.”

  He opened the door and she stepped out, examining the old man in front of her with obvious suspicion. Richard felt the same nervousness he always felt waiting to see how someone who had never seen Susie would react.

  “Well hello, young lady. It’s very nice to meet you.”

  Richard let out the breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. There wasn’t anything in Seeger’s voice or expression to suggest he saw anything but a little girl.

  “I didn’t know I had an Uncle Burt,” she said.

  His brow began to crease, but he caught himself quickly enough that she didn’t notice. “You didn’t? How could that be? Your parents never told you what a great guy I am?”

  She thought for a moment and then stepped forward and opened her arms. A wide smile spread across his face as he knelt to hug her.

  “I’m sorry. I’m being rude,” he said, scooping Susie up and heading for the house. “Come inside. I made cookies last night. I bet you like cookies, don’t you?”

  Susie craned her neck and looked back at her mother. “Can I?”

  “OK,” Carly said, staying close as Seeger teetered up the steps, Susie’s less-than-considerable weight taking its toll on his damaged leg. “But only one. And one isn’t two, right? And it’s definitely not three.”

  They followed Seeger inside, Carly pausing as they passed a half-finished quilt in the living room. “If his wife’s dead, who’s working on that?”

  “Maybe he got remarried.”

  “Then wouldn’t his wife be the one making the cookies?”

  “Give him a chance, Carly. You wouldn’t believe the stuff I heard about him fighting the Russians in Afghanistan.”

  “Maybe he was exaggerating.”

  “Actually, he never talked about it. Some of the guys he fought with would come to the hospital every now and then. That’s who I heard the stories from.”

  She nodded noncommittally and followed her daughter’s voice into the kitchen with him close behind.

  “Do you have an Xbox?” Susie was asking through a full mouth as they entered.

  “Susie! Why on earth would Burt have an Xbox? And do we talk with our mouth crammed full or do we keep it shut and chew?”

  “Sorry, Mom.”

  “Your mother’s right,” Seeger said gravely and then broke into a grin. “But I do have a Wii. With all the best games. Do you know how to fly a fighter jet?”

  “No,” Susie said, wide eyed.

  “You don’t? Well, in my opinion, all young ladies should be able to fly a fighter jet. You never know when it might come up. If you play your cards right, maybe I’ll teach you later. But for now, why don’t you head back there and watch a little TV. Your parents and I have some catching up to do.”

  She rushed off before there could be any protests from her mother about watching TV when the sun was shining.

  “I stayed in touch with people from the hospital for a few years, and one of them told me your daughter was ill,” Seeger said, taking a seat at the kitchen table and indicating for them to do the same. “I’m sorry. I know what it’s like when someone you love is sick.”

  “Burt’s wife had cancer,” Richard explained. “She was part of that clinical trial I was involved in.”

  “No one ever talked to us. They treated her like a piece of meat,” Seeger said and then pointed to Richard. “All except the new kid, who showed us real kindness and friendship. Richard always had time to explain what was happening and make sure our questions were answered. We both appreciated that. More than you can imagine.”

  “I’m sorry we couldn’t save her, Burt.”

  “I know you are. But it wasn’t your fault. People die.”

  “So did you remarry?” Carly said, obviously still concerned about the quilt.

  “Never found the right woman. Not yet.” He glanced at a picture of his wife hanging next to the refrigerator, and his face slackened noticeably. “Now, I don’t mean to be rude for the second time today, but my curiosity is killing me. I assume you didn’t show up on ol’ Uncle Burt’s doorstep to reminisce.”

  “No,” Richard admitted. “You once said you owed me a favor. Did you mean it?”

  “I never say things I don’t mean. It’s a disgusting habit.”

  “Well, then get comfortable. We’ve got a little story for you.”

  13

  Hagerstown, Maryland

  April 18

  Burt Seeger rummaged around in a kitchen cabinet for a teabag and dropped it into the pot on the stove. According to the clock on the wall, they’d finished telling him everything that had happened more than two minutes ago. Since then the only sounds in the tiny house had come from
the living room where Susie had figured out how to get the Wii running.

  Spoken aloud, their story seemed even more dubious. In all likelihood, the old soldier would throw them out of the house and call the cops. It was undoubtedly the smart move.

  “Maybe we could go to the FBI,” Carly said, obviously unable to bear the silence anymore.

  Seeger turned and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms across his chest. “With what? It sounds like the police have a pretty strong case against Richard, and this Sands guy will sure as hell tell them that he thinks you staged the attack on Susie. There’s a serious credibility gap here—more like a credibility canyon— and you’re on the wrong side of it.”

  “What about the press? It’s a good story, and they don’t seem to demand all that much in the way of proof anymore.”

  “Yeah, but they demand something. This sounds more like something from one of those tabloids my wife used to read. I’m still waiting for you to tell me how Elvis fits in.”

  “So you don’t believe us,” Richard said.

  “Don’t take it personally, son. The years I spent working in intelligence left me not believing anything.”

  Richard let out a long breath. Coming here had been a stupid idea. Like Carly said, he hadn’t been in touch with Burt Seeger in more than a decade. What had he expected the man to do? Breathlessly accept everything they said before risking everything he had to help?

  And the truth was that Seeger wasn’t the only skeptic. Carly was far from convinced and most likely just humoring him because she thought he was in the midst of a nervous breakdown. If there was one thing he’d learned from his years as a scientist, it was that when people you respected started lining up against you, you might be wrong. Maybe it finally all had come crashing down on him. Maybe he was losing it. And if that was the case—or even if it wasn’t—what now?

  “Listen,” Seeger said, clearly concerned by the sudden hopelessness of Richard’s expression. “You helped me out once, and I take that debt seriously. I also don’t want to see you living in your car jumping at shadows. Particularly with a sick little girl in tow. On the other hand, I don’t know how deeply I want to get dragged into this.”

  “I understand. We—”

  “Let me finish. I’m going to put you up for a few days and see if I can help you figure this thing out. But we’re going to do this by the numbers. No one is ever going to know you were here. And if for some reason they do find out, you never told me any of this. You’re just some old friends who dropped by on a road trip, right?”

  “Agreed,” Richard said. “Thank you, Burt. I can’t—”

  The old soldier waved a hand irritably. “You can thank me by doing everything I tell you exactly like I tell you. First, we’re going to get that stolen truck the hell out of my driveway. And while you’re at it, you’re going to get some prepaid cell phones. Remember, though, that they can be traced to the cell tower that they’re connected to, so don’t use them if you’re somewhere you don’t want anyone to know about—most importantly, here. You’re also going to buy a satellite phone—it’s possible to listen in on those, but it’s impossible to track their location with enough accuracy to make the information useful. Now what are you doing for money?”

  Richard shrugged.

  “No debit cards, no ATMs, and no credit cards. You’re going to need to go to a bank branch far away from here and pull out all your savings in cash. How much do you have?”

  “Not much,” Carly said. “We put everything into research.”

  “Do you have access to your organization’s accounts?”

  “Sure,” Richard said. “But most of that is donations. We can’t—”

  “Being on the run isn’t cheap,” Seeger said. “If you think this is for real, now isn’t the time to get squeamish about a little embezzlement.”

  Richard’s nod was a little hesitant. That was the burning question. Was it real? How far was he willing to take this? And how far was Carly willing to follow?

  “Most important of all, though, is to think,” Seeger continued. “Do it hard and do it often. Because I can tell you from experience that one mistake is all it takes to kill you.”

  14

  Near Seneca Rocks, West Virginia

  April 18

  Darkness had descended almost an hour ago but didn’t bring with it the peace or perspective Richard hoped for. He glanced over at his wife and saw her watching impassively as the trees flashed by in the old U-Haul’s headlights. She’d hardly said a word on the drive, and as much as he wanted to ask her what she was thinking, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

  A sweeping turn loomed in front of them and he slowed, struggling with the wheel as the trailer they were towing pushed at the back end.

  “There,” he said, pointing at what looked like a reasonably well-maintained dirt road to the right. “That looks like it’ll work.”

  Carly nodded, and he eased into it, bouncing along at barely a walking pace as the biting air washed through his open window. At Seeger’s insistence, they’d crossed into West Virginia and headed for the mountains, staying on secondary roads and leaving Hagerstown far behind.

  When Richard was certain they were invisible from the main road, he set the brake and jumped out. There was a light fog clinging to everything, magnifying the cold and causing the air to shimmer in the headlights.

  He climbed up on the trailer and threw the cloth cover off his neighbor’s pickup, sliding into the driver’s seat as Carly pulled down a set of steel ramps. The vehicle rolled to the damp ground with no sound other than the soft scrunch of rubber against dirt.

  Confirming that the keys were in the visor, he got out and looked around them again. Based on the number of tire tracks and the sharpness of the tread patterns, it was obvious that the road saw a fair amount of use. It wouldn’t be long before people noticed the abandoned vehicle with Maryland plates and called the police, who would return it unharmed to his neighbor. Hopefully with an explanation that involved joy-riding teenagers and not a certain biologist fleeing justice.

  Carly was using Windex and a roll of paper towels to wipe away prints and other evidence like Seeger had shown her, and Richard walked back to the U-Haul’s cab to retrieve a plastic shopping bag. He rummaged through the prepaid cells it contained, finally locating a satellite phone at the bottom.

  The more time that passed, the hazier the events of last night became. Other explanations forced themselves into his mind, melting away the panic he’d felt when he was in the moment. Maybe Sands was just a dim, violent jackass pissed off at being woken up in the middle of the night. Richard had to admit that he tended to bestow more brains on people than they deserved— seeing careful intent when, nine times out of ten, all he was looking at was incompetence and self-absorption.

  And what about the attack on Susie? The truth was that people had all kinds of reactions to her. The man in her room could have just been some kind of delusional nut. It wasn’t like the world wasn’t full of them.

  The bottom line was that he needed a third opinion. Had he lost it his mind? Was he endangering himself, his family, and Seeger over nothing but a series of coincidences blown out of proportion by stress and confirmation bias? And if so, what was the most effective—and least humiliating—way to go crawling back?

  He dialed a number from memory and held the unfamiliar phone to his ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Chris.”

  “Richard! Where the hell have you been? The cops called me looking for you. They’re talking like you’re on the run or something. They said you told them someone attacked Susie.”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “So it’s true?”

  “Yeah.”

  “They weren’t exactly polite, you know what I mean? I’m starting to think this Sands guy has it in for you.”

  “Shit,” Richard said quietly. “What the hell’s going on with PharmaTan, Chris? Why aren’t they dropping the charges?�
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  “The CEO’s being a hard-ass. The guy’s a complete prick, if you ask me. Says he feels like he’s being blackmailed. I don’t know how to say this other than to just say it, but he’s dead set on pressing charges. I’m trying to go over his head to the board, but I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

  Richard lowered himself unsteadily onto the truck’s running board as Carly approached, just a disturbance in the thickening fog until she sat next to him. There was a strange moment’s hesitation, but then she reached out and put an arm around his shoulders.

  “I can’t go to jail, Chris. Susie doesn’t have that much time and neither do the other kids. We have to make this work.”

  “I know. Look, I’m not promising anything, but I think the board will be more receptive. It’s not going to be tomorrow, though, right? And all this shit isn’t going to make my job any easier.”

  “You think I wanted someone to break into my daughter’s room with a syringe and a gun?”

  “Is that what happened? Jesus. Look, I’m not trying to place blame here. I’m just saying it doesn’t look that great, you know?”

  “Doesn’t look that great? Do you have any idea—”

  “Richard! Could you try being just a little less touchy? You’ve got to admit that it’s a pretty big coincidence. This thing with Annette’s research happens and then suddenly some psycho shows up at your house and tries to kill your daughter?”

  Richard let out a long breath, trying to regain his calm. “I’m not a hundred percent sure he was a psycho, Chris.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “What if all this is connected? I mean, first Annette, then Troy, and now Susie? What if someone’s trying to stop anyone from continuing her research? You ran a pharmaceutical company. You know the kind of money that could be at stake.”

  “It’s a cutthroat business, Richard, but we don’t go around killing people.”

  “Are you sure?”

  There was a long silence before Graden spoke again. “No. I’m not sure. The business has changed since I was in the middle of it. The Russians and the Chinese are getting involved, and I wouldn’t put anything past those assholes.”