Elixir. Part 38

"Even Timothy McVeigh had a lawyer," Roger said. "Besides, we have a bargaining chip." He patted the emergency vial under his s.h.i.+rt.

"Going to try to bribe a judge like Wally?"

"Laura, I didn't bribe him, and you know it. He had the option not to go on it." Then he added, "Like you."

They explained to Brett that for a day or two they were going to visit Laura's sister Jenny who lived alone with her sixteen-year-old daughter. And that while they were being processed through the judicial system, he would stay with them. But that wouldn't be for a while. Maybe weeks.

They would take Laura's Subaru and another set of IDs-Peter, Ellen, and Larry Cohen.

"Dad, when it's all over, you going to go back to your old names again?"

"We've been Roger and Laura for so long, it might be kind of confusing. What do you think?"

"Yeah. I don't have to change to Adam, do I?"

"Of course not."

"No offense, but it sounds kind of dumb-you know, Adam and Eve. Running around naked and naming the animals. I'd rather stick with Brett."

"Besides, no one named Brett would be caught dead in a fig leaf, right?"

"I'm glad you see my point."

Laura wore a dark wig and tinted gla.s.ses, also tanning lotion which turned her a few shades darker. Meanwhile, Roger shaved off his beard and cut his hair to a whiffle. He looked eerily young. So much so that Brett commented, "You could be my older brother," and looked away unnerved.

Roger also carried cotton absorption wads-the kind dentists used-to be packed in his mouth to alter the shape of his face when they stopped for tolls and gas.

In the middle of the night they loaded the car undetected.

Amidst suitcases of clothes sat the cooler containing chopped ice and two hundred vials of frozen Elixir serum. The remaining supply and notebooks were miles from here, buried nearly a decade ago. And with them, one hundred and twenty thousand dollars in cash.

Before they left, Brett asked to see a sample, so Roger removed the emergency supply from around his neck. He snapped open the tube and extracted the long gla.s.s ampule.

Brett held it up to the kitchen light. He had heard about it all week, but this was the first time he had actually laid eyes on what all the world was howling about.

"Looks just like water," he said and handed it back to his father without further comment.

They left just before midnight.

Using secondary roads, Roger calculated the trip would take about seventeen hours. Jenny had insisted on their arrival tomorrow afternoon-as if she held them to some deadline.

As the lights of the condo disappeared in the mirror, the thought circled Roger's mind that there were hordes of people under that black sky who would do anything to lay hands on them. Anything.

To help Laura and Brett doze off, he put on a tape of "Swan Lake" and turned the volume low.

Laura was too anxious to sleep, although Brett spread out on the rear seat with his pillow and a blanket. In the mirror Roger had flashes of that night thirteen years ago when in another car and under different names they drove northward to Black Eagle Lake. Another night, another flight of fear.

By the time they reached Faribault, Laura was asleep against headrest. And Brett was a long lump under the blanket.

At this hour traffic was spa.r.s.e. Even though U.S. 35 was indirect, it avoided Madison and any police checkpoints.

It was odd, but being on the run made Roger feel closer to Laura than he had in a while. They were doing something together, as a family, bizarre as it was. At one point, she woke up and took his hand. Nothing was actually said in words, though the gesture warmed him. He needed to believe in them still, and in her love. Yet, when he tried to imagine their future, it came up blank.

Someplace in the middle of Odette's transformation into a cygnet, Brett sat up.

"Dad, what would happen if I took Elixir?"

The question came out of the dark like an icepick. He was about to answer, when Laura cut him off. "Don't even think about it," she said, suddenly awake. She spun around to face him. "Everything we've ever warned you about the dangers of drugs-this is far worse. One shot and your body is instantly dependent. And if you go off it, you die a horrible death."

So startled by her reaction, Brett chuckled. "You're just saying that."

"Only because it's true. We told you about the animals."

"Can that happen to you, Dad?"

"Monkeys and humans have the same reaction."

"Has it ever happened to anyone?"

"Yes, but no one you know."

"Then why did you take it?"

"I told you it was a mistake."

"But you'll live forever, right?"

"Not forever. Just longer. But it was still a mistake."

"If you could go back, would you do it again?"

It was like Brett to hammer away. "No, I wouldn't."

"You're just saying that."

There was no reason for Roger to play up his regret or Brett would pursue that. "I'm not. It was wrong."

"How about when I'm older?"

"Brett, you've got a long life ahead of you. You don't need the stuff."

"But someday..."

They were caught between minimizing and maximizing the dangers. "We can't think that far ahead."

"But you're going to live a long time, why not both of us? You too, Mom."

"We've already been through this, Brett," Laura said. "I'm not going to take it. And you're not going to take it. It's unnatural and dangerous, simple as that. End of discussion."

But Roger could hear the turn of Brett's mind. Laura had protested too much. "Brett, listen to me," he said, summoning his best voice of fatherly reason. "If you took it now, you would never get older. You would never fully grow up. You would never age but stay fourteen for good. Is that something you'd really want?"

There was long silence.

"Well?"

"Maybe."

"I don't believe this."

President John Markarian turned up the sound on the TV console in the Oval Office. Tim Reed and two other aides had come in to inform him of the latest. With them was Kenneth Parrish, director of the FBI.

As feared, Elixir rumors had s...o...b..lled and were barreling down on the White House like an avalanche. On the screen were videos of laboratory mice and rhesus monkeys.

"What you're seeing are the same animals, just a few weeks apart," the commentator said. "According to former Darby employees, the animals had been treated with Elixir, a secret compound that allegedly had the capacity to prevent aging." The screen split with a BEFORE and AFTER caption under each.

"Sources who had once worked at the Darby labs claim that treated animals on the right had actually rejuvenated over the period."

The split screen gave way to another pair of still photos, that of Christopher Bacon and Roger Glover.

"Speculation holds that Dr. Bacon may have used the serum on himself..."

On the president's desk sat faxes and e-mails from scientists, religious leaders, and government officials from around the world demanding to know if the rumors were true, and, if so, to share the secret with the rest of the human race. There were also entreaties from the heads of AARP frantic for the government to find this Christopher Bacon and his secret of prolonged life.

Everywhere White House disclaimers were rebuffed. One commentator declared the Oval Office might be either the stupidest place in the world or the most deceitful.

The television scene s.h.i.+fted to anti-American rallies in Cairo.

How the h.e.l.l do people mobilize so rapidly? Markarian wondered.

People were toting signs proclaiming "Death to America" and "Markarian is Saten." And "Elixir is Devel's Potion." "Elixir-American/Israeli Plot." And "ELIXIR: Genetic Imperialism."

"Middle East spokesmen view Elixir as a threat to international peace," the reporter continued. "One diplomat warned of possible military conflict unless the U.S. admits to hording the compound and makes it available to all people..."

The scene s.h.i.+fted to a fiery preacher addressing a congregation from a church pulpit in Baltimore.

"Meanwhile, here at home, religious leaders are calling for calm while others see Elixir as a Pandora's box. In the words of Reverend Colonel Lamar Fisk, the anti-aging drug is a 'h.e.l.lish violation of the dominion of G.o.d.'"

"'Ye know neither the day nor the hour wherein the Lord doth come!'" Fisk shouted. "'And in that hour when the seventh seal is broken the armies of the lord will lay waste the evil that is Babylon...'"

The camera panned devoted followers as they howled and hit the air with fists and sticks.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n field day for the nutcakes," Markarian said.

"Except this one's dangerous," said Parrish. "They're Heaven's Gate with fangs."

"Meaning what?" Markarian asked.

"Meaning they're not going to pop suicide pills and wait for the flying saucers to whip them away. This Fisk guy has warlord mentality. He preaches that they'll take an active part in Armageddon. A lot of wham-bam, and while they get beamed up to heaven, the rest of us fry."

"Nice religion."

"What's scary is that he knows guns and preaches violence. He's also charismatic and uses mind control and physical abuse to keep followers in line. He's like Charles Manson and David Koresh rolled in one, except he hasn't broken the law yet. I'm just worried when he does."

"What's the latest on Glover?" the president asked Parrish.

"Every airport, bus terminal, and train station in a four-hundred-mile radius around Eau Claire is covered. Highway patrols have been beefed up. We don't know what they're driving because he seems to have a fleet of vehicles. Or he's stealing one after another. But the local police are checking all leads."

"You mean you haven't got a clue."

"I'm afraid not."

"We're already frying."

33.

Roger did all the driving, kept alert by adrenaline. They ate in the car and stopped only for fuel and rest rooms. He preferred the self-serve stations to avoid attendants.

But there were no self-serves in Fairfield, Iowa, and they were on empty. Roger pulled into a Mobil station. A guy about twenty came out and put in twenty-four dollars worth of gasoline.

It wasn't until it was time to pay that Roger spotted the hand-written sign in the window: "SORRY. No Fifties or Hundreds."

Big bills were all they had left, which meant having to pay by credit card. Roger was not too worried the attendant would recognize him out here between endless corn fields, especially in his disguise. But he had not counted on an overdue balance.

The kid returned from inside to say that payment was denied.

While Brett slept and Laura tried to doze off, Roger got out of the car and returned the card to his wallet then pulled out another.

But as the guy headed back into the station, Roger suddenly realized that the second card was made out to Peter Cohen, while the first said Harry Stork.

If the attendant was alert, he'd catch the discrepancy and wonder why two names. If he reported it, that could prove disastrous since Harry Stork was the name Roger had used as Wally's attorney-a name that was surely in the police network. In fifteen minutes every road within fifty miles would be blockaded.

Roger had about ten seconds before the guy reached the credit card machine.

If he jumped into the car and took off, the kid would pounce on the phone. If he did nothing and the kid caught on, there'd be a flag on the field. Even if the discrepancy were missed, there would be an American Express record of Harry Stork traveling east into Illinois.

Roger dashed into the office and s.n.a.t.c.hed the card from the kid's hand just as he was about to run it through the machine.