No Time to Die (14 page)

New York City
8:45
A.M.

“T
heo! Zoe!” Natalie exclaimed, as the strange man jumped into the driver's seat next to her and slammed on the gas. “What are
you guys
doing here?”

Before anyone could answer, she reached out to touch her son's arm to make sure he was real. The sight of his handsome face seemed like a magic trick her deprived soul might have conjured up.

“Honey, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I'm fine, Mom.” Any anger he was harboring toward her seemed to have melted away. “We're getting you out of here.”

Next to him in the backseat, Zoe's indignation flashed in her eyes. “Did you think I was going to just sit back and watch them do this to you?”

“You're behind this? But how did you—?” She twisted in her seat to stare down the driver, who was navigating the city's narrow streets with the slick mastery of a native. She noticed they were rapidly heading northwest, toward the West Side Highway. “Where are we going? Who
are
you?”

“Galileo,” Zoe said, “tell her.”

Alarm spread through Natalie like a brushfire. She stared at him. “You're not really—?”

He was still wearing the Yankees baseball cap, sunglasses, and the prosthetic nose, and upon closer inspection, she could see that his trim black beard was also a guise. The stubble appeared just a little too even. But his lips were real—and they were smiling at her.

“It's great to meet you, too.” His words carried a hint of an accent she couldn't quite place, faded British with a hint of something grittier, like Brooklyn.

Her fingers closed around the door handle. They were going sixty now, flying down the highway, much too fast to roll out. She glanced back at Theo and Zoe, examining them for signs of abuse or coercion. There seemed to be none—so far.

“Who are you?” she shouted. “And where are you taking us?”

“Mom,” Theo said, “calm down.”

“I will not calm down. What is going on?”

“It's pretty simple, actually.” Galileo tore his eyes off the road to glance at her. “First off, anything you've heard about me is a lie.”

Les Mahler's announcement in the meeting at Columbia last week came back to her. If he was right, this man was a dangerous radical who led some kind of shadowy cult that had claimed dozens of victims, all science-related, including—

“Where's Helen?” she demanded. “What have you done with her?”

“Oh, she's settling in wonderfully. I know she can't wait to see you.”

Arctic cold prickled her arms. She whipped around to the backseat, her pulse racing in her fingertips. “Guys, we're going to jump out of this car the second it stops,
do you understand?
”

Theo rolled his eyes. “Come on.”

“You're coming,” Zoe said. “We're fine.”

Appalled, Natalie fumbled to extract her cell phone out of the plastic bag of her possessions from the jail and jabbed at the power button.

The battery was dead.

“There's no need for that,” said the man who called himself Galileo. “If you want to get out, I'm happy to let you off. In fact, I'll turn around and drive you back to your apartment, where you can wait out the summer without a job until your court date. Given the severity of your charges and those police witnesses, I'd say odds are good you'll do hard time.” He grimaced, as if it pained him to think of her returning to prison. “Or you can hear me out.”

“But you can't go back!” Zoe protested, leaning forward against her seat belt. “Not after all we've gone through to get you out.”

Natalie, still clutching the door handle, stared from her to the man. “You better talk fast.”

“I should correct myself,” he said, a slight smile returning to his lips. “You do know one true thing about me—my name.”

“Your parents named you Galileo?”

“Our given names are irrelevant. It's how we identify ourselves that counts.”

Outside, the gleaming gray river snaked by along the highway. Now they were doing seventy-five. How come, the one and only time she wanted it, there was no traffic?

“As you seem to be aware,” he went on, “I'm the leader of a grassroots movement that's in the midst of waging an underground scientific revolution.”

“Oh,” she muttered, “I'm aware.”

“Let me guess. In a meeting at Columbia, Les Mahler told you we're a cult?”

She raised her eyebrows. “How could you know that?”

“Well-placed sources, my dear.”

Then she remembered. “The mole!” It was probably Mitch. No one else in the department could match his spirit in ugliness. “I know just who it was, too.”

Galileo chuckled, not at all insulted. “First off, the Network is no cult. We're a band of volunteers that have gotten together to accelerate progress.”

They were about to exit Manhattan, speeding toward the Lincoln Tunnel. At least, she thought, they might pass through a tollbooth on the other end—maybe she could wave down an attendant somehow. But unless they hit congestion in the tunnel, she'd only have a split second . . .

“All of the people who've appeared to vanish,” he was saying, “actually sought out my help or someone on their behalf did. Our mission is to give experts like you the total freedom required to pursue biomedical advances as quickly and efficiently as possible. No board-required approvals, no drug companies or bureaucrats pushing agendas, no byzantine FDA regulations. We started several years ago, funded by venture capitalists in Silicon Valley, with one specific project in mind—and that's multiplied as more and more scientists and doctors have escaped their traditional careers to join our movement.” Darkness descended as they raced into the tunnel. Galileo paused as he switched lanes to avoid an aggressive driver who was riding his tail.

“We now have about six hundred allied members in strategic locations around the country, who enable us to privately transport our crew and supplies. In return, they and their families are first on the list for our innovative therapies currently under development. It's like the Underground Railroad for science. This time the slavery is less obvious—though no less insidious.”

She frowned. “Who's enslaved?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“You. And other unconventional, risk-taking scientists like you.”

“By whom?”

“Good old Uncle Sam.”

“How do you figure?”

“Les Mahler's Bioethics Committee is a great example. They're just a bunch of glorified policemen with fancy degrees and a fear of change.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but realized she didn't disagree. The way Les Mahler had studied her and the other scientists at that meeting, it was as though they were a bunch of wayward tinkerers who required his close watch, lest their experiments upend society. It was worse than a lack of respect, it was disdain.

“And a million other ways that come together to inhibit brilliance and risk and innovation,” Galileo added. “Maybe it's refusing your grant requests, or your tenure, or cutting off your funding, or pulling your clinical trial, or delaying approval of your drug, depending on the politics and the powers involved.” He did a quick check over his shoulder and switched lanes again, accelerating into a spot ahead of a slow driver.

“Or maybe it's big pharma,” he went on, “only funding research that will help their bottom line, not necessarily the real revolutionary work that's crying to be done, but that won't yield a profit for years or decades to come. That's where the Network comes in. At our headquarters, we've now got refugees from the system researching stem cells, cloning, memory manipulation, synthetic life, 3-D organ printing, and our biggest project of all. The project that united the movement with a single vision, that got us our funding, and that I believe will change the world as we know it.”

Natalie's heart was pounding. She was no longer aware that they had passed through the tunnel, out into the bright open sunlight. “Which is?”

“To finally address the question people have asked since the beginning of time—
Why are we mortal?
” He took off his sunglasses and looked at her, and in his blue eyes, she was surprised to detect a profound sadness. “You and Zoe are the two people we need to help us find the answer.”

“See?” Zoe piped up in her girlish voice from the backseat. “This is totally legit, it's the best thing that could have happened to us!”

Natalie closed her eyes, her mind reeling. “So what you're telling me is, there's a secret lab somewhere in America where you want to take us to research the cure for aging?”

“Not just
a
lab. We've got forty-five of them, mostly underground, with a whole team in place who can't wait to meet you. Geneticists, biostatisticians, physiologists, radiologists, endocrinologists. I have to say, your paper from last year in
Rejuvenation Research
on the developmental theory of aging is very popular in the compound.”

She snorted. “If you're trying to lure me to my grave, that's a good one.”

“Ever the skeptic, aren't you?”

If anything, her doubt seemed to please him.

“What scientist worth her weight isn't?”

He nodded, keeping his focus on the road. Now they were in New Jersey, and the spiky skyline of Manhattan was little more than a box of matchsticks through the rear window.

“Helen warned me you were stubborn. Here.” He reached into his pocket and tossed a silver cell phone into her lap. “Call her.”

Natalie's mouth fell open. “Really?”

“Of course. I was going to lead with that, but you kept cutting me off. Not that I blame you.”

“What if I just called the cops right now?”

“You could. But I'm not worried.”

“Why not?”

“I think you know why.”

She held the phone, glancing again behind her to make sure Theo and Zoe were okay. They were watching her calmly. Of course they were. Teenagers always took the least amount of convincing to join rebellions.

But that was what she prided herself most on at that age, too. She recalled her college protests against communism with other so-called activists, who were really just kids with a penchant for going against the grain. She'd always been attracted to other nonconformists, whether they were celebrated or misunderstood or maligned, as long as they were fighting for principles she could respect.

Principles like Galileo's.

If he was sincere. But there was a nagging feeling in the back of her mind—if only she could bring the thought to the surface.

She closed her hand around the phone, noticing her knuckles were white.

“Did you find her?” he asked, his eyes on the road. “She's the only Helen.”

She stared at the number listed for her closest friend, a number with an area code she'd never even heard of, hoping this wasn't a trick born of a madman's cruelty. On top of all else, she didn't think she could bear to hear Helen sounding desperate or tortured—if she was even alive.

“Well?” he said.

“Found it.”

She pressed the phone to her ear and waited.

A
familiar voice answered “Hello.” Natalie's throat tightened. “Helen?”

“Nat?”

“Hel, oh my God. Is it really you?” Hot tears spilled over her lids, tumbling down her cheeks. It was the first time she had allowed herself to cry. “Are you really okay?”

“I'm better than okay. I wanted to call you, but by the time I got here, you'd been arrested. Guess inmates can't accept collect calls . . . Are
you
okay?”

Natalie laughed through her tears. “I've been so worried about you. I'm . . .” She trailed off. How could she communicate, in Galileo's presence, that she wasn't sure if he was a clever rebel or a dangerous lunatic? And that two innocent kids—well, people—in the backseat, whether they knew it or not, were depending on her judgment for survival?

“You're . . . ?” Helen prompted. “You must be with Galileo?”

“Right.” She snuck a peek at him to see how closely he was listening. But he was craning his neck to say something to Theo and Zoe. In the rearview mirror, she caught them smiling at him.

“I know exactly what you're thinking,” Helen said. “And you know what? You don't have to worry one bit. Wait until you see what he's created.”

“So you really are fine?” It was difficult to shake the chilling image that had been haunting her, of Helen gagged and bound, or worse. “You're safe?”

“Safer than I've probably ever been. I have my own lab. Everyone here does. We're all doing our own cutting-edge thing, hands free of IRBs and the FDA and all that. I actually fit in for once in my life, and so will you.”

“I want to,” she admitted, feeling her internal wall of skepticism start to crumble. She hadn't realized how badly she wanted to believe Galileo. Yet her scientist instincts were like iron girders, keeping the wall intact. She doubted the appearance of truth unless it could stand up against rigorous testing. Helen's cheery voice alone wasn't proof of her well-being. What if, right now, she was being force-fed her words by one of Galileo's henchmen?

Through the window, Natalie noticed a billboard off the highway advertising a botanical garden. An orchard of cherry blossoms was pictured.

“Hey, remember the gardenia plant?” she said, thinking fast. “The one you got me for my birthday?”

“Of course, why?”

“Are there any gardenias where you are? Or would you say daffodils are more common?”

There was a pause. “Um . . .”

“Ballpark guess.” She cleared her throat. “More daffodils or gardenias? Lilies or roses? You know me with flowers.”

Come on,
she willed,
remember the poisonous houseplants.
Daffodils and lilies were toxic if consumed, while gardenias and roses were harmless. It was a cryptic attempt, but Helen had gotten her bachelor's degree in botany before turning to molecular biology.

Another pause. Then Helen burst out laughing. “God, I miss you. There's nothing but fields of gardenias here. And roses.”

“Whole fields?” Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Galileo glancing at her quizzically.

“As far as the eye can see.”

“So where is this fairyland?”

“Ask him. We're not supposed to discuss it over the phone. But you're in good hands, okay? He'll get you here safely, you just have to trust him.”

After they hung up, Natalie's shoulders loosened and she sank back into the passenger seat. Their conversation was aloe, fading her sting of suspicion. It seemed that she and the kids really were safe. She handed the phone back to Galileo. Blue sky stretched for miles overhead, hardly a cloud in sight. Through the window, the sun's rays were warming her shoulder like a caress, a tangible reminder of her freedom—thanks to this man.

“Feeling better?” he asked. “I can still turn around, if you want. No one who comes to the compound is ever forced, and I plan to keep it that way.”

A nagging feeling popped through Natalie's consciousness—a body had been found. A scientist murdered in his own lab. Les Mahler had told them so.

Her heart began to pound. Casually, so as not to spook the kids, she turned the dial on the car radio to the first music station she could find, one blasting classic rock. She inched the volume up and opened her window to the roar of the wind.

Galileo grinned. “There we go.”

His smile vanished when she looked at him. It was hard to reconcile how a man with such kind eyes could be evil. She could see how Helen could have gotten sucked in. She kept her voice low, so only he could hear.

“Don't scare the kids, but you're going to get off on the next exit and drop us off at the first place we see. No screwing around. Is that clear?”

“Whoa, what happened?”

“You almost had me, too.” She shook her head. “It's like you know just what I wanted to hear. And then you come off all righteous. You're unbelievable.”

He seemed confused. “What are you talking about?”

She spoke through gritted teeth. “You killed that man in his own lab. You let his animals maul him to death! How could you?”

A look of realization—and fury—crossed over his face. “I didn't,” he said. “Someone framed me. I'd never even heard of the poor guy until word got back to me that
I
was the one responsible for his death.”

“Come on.”

He lifted his right hand from the wheel as if taking an oath. “I swear on my life. I was at the compound when I first heard about it. Hundreds of miles away from D.C.”

“How can you expect me to believe that? What about the postcard you sent?”

“I never sent it. Those are dollar-store postcards anyone can find. We have our reasons for using them. But the thing I don't get is—how could anyone copy my exact message unless that person had seen an example before? And we only send them to the headquarters of the Bioethics Committee.”

“So you're saying someone there framed you? That's crazy.”

He shook his head. “I really don't know. I wish I could explain it. All I know is the actual murderer wanted to get rid of that scientist for some reason and blame it on me so he'd never be suspected.”

She raised her eyebrows. “That the best you can do?”

“That's the truth.”

The way he said it, without adornment or apology, made her believe it.

“So you aren't a killer, then.”

“Never.” He briefly took his eyes off the road to look at her. His face was dead serious. “My mission is recruitment and productivity, not torture and death. If I'd known that guy was in trouble I would have gotten him out of there. Why do you think he was the only person whose body was left behind?”

“True. It doesn't fit the pattern.” She was surprised at how relieved she felt by his explanation. Her head rested against the cool glass of her window.

“Everyone else has come into the Network of their own accord, thanks to my help. As I told you, it's always their choice—there's never any struggle. Sometimes they leave behind a suicide note so no one will come after them, but that's their choice, too.”

She exhaled. Either she could believe him, and Helen's account of him—or Les Mahler's. An exit on the highway was fast approaching.

He motioned to it. “Do you want me to get off? It's up to you.”

“No,” she said. “No, I think we can go on.”

She turned around to check again on Theo and Zoe. Oblivious to the anxiety that had gripped her moments before, they were playing a game on an iPad.

“Where did that come from?”

“I got it for them. We've got a long drive ahead of us.”

She smiled. The fact that he had considered the happiness of the kids, even if it seemed like a minor detail, reassured her of her decision. She let herself relax against the seat.

“So how did you find my son? And Zoe? Where are we going? And how long are we planning to stay there?”

“One at a time,” he said with a smile.

The radio was still blaring, and despite the obnoxious volume, she was thankful for the privacy it afforded them.

“Theo's supposed to start college in the fall,” she said. “I can't just keep him cooped up in some secret research compound forever.”

“Of course not,” he said, matching her lowered voice as a Bon Jovi song poured from the speakers. “I thought you'd want to have him near you at least at first. But let's see how things go. Most of our researchers work and live there full-time, though you can leave at any time. If you choose to stay, we can always send him to live with a nearby member until he goes off to college. Once you're part of the Network, you're family.”

The last word resounded in her mind. For years, it had meant one person only—her son. How she longed to give him the brothers and sisters who never materialized, the aunts and uncles who didn't exist, the grandparents who had died of old age, the father who might as well have died. To be welcomed by strangers into a whole thriving community—it made a lump grow in her throat. She had always been conscious of the need to treat others well, but this was on another level entirely.

“But wait,” she said, as another question occurred to her, “if my theory on aging is so popular, then why haven't you sought me out sooner?”

“Adler didn't want to lose you.”

“
Adler?
As in, my former boss,
Professor
Adler?”

“The one and only.”

“I don't understand. How could you—? Oh my God, are you saying that
Adler—
?”

“Is the mole?” He grinned. “I'm afraid so.”

She shook her head, thinking back to when Les Mahler had announced to Adler that his department was harboring a mole connected to the Network. So his horrified expression had been feigned. He must have been hiding his amusement at the irony. She turned down the music to process this surprise.

“I can't believe this. I just can't believe this.”

“Adler's been one of us since the beginning. He tipped me off to Helen's plight, and then yours. I wanted to come for you last year after I read your paper—I knew we needed you badly—but he said you were getting groomed for tenure and you could already do your research there. But then we found out about Zoe, and that changed everything. We knew she could be walking proof of your whole idea of developmental inertia, and that you two had to link up. So when Columbia didn't go for it—nice try, by the way—and Adler was forced to fire you, he knew your work was far from over. That it's only just beginning.”

She was unaware that her mouth was hanging open. “Did you guys hear that?” she said, craning around to the backseat.

“I already knew all that, Mom,” Theo said, without taking his eyes off the iPad. “Adler called me to explain everything when you were in jail.”

“And Dr. Carlyle told me,” said Zoe. “That's how I knew it was legit.”

“We just didn't count on you getting arrested,” Galileo said. “You couldn't give up, could you?” Despite his tone of mock annoyance, his voice carried an overtone of admiration.

“If only I'd known!”

“I was already on my way the night you went to jail, so then I had to go back and wait until your bail posted. An unfortunate wrinkle, but we managed to straighten it out, didn't we?”

She couldn't stop shaking her head in disbelief. “All this trouble you went to, all this money, for me?”

“We need you, Natalie. Together with my team, you and Zoe might just set the world on fire.”

Her heart was racing again. “Where is this place?”

“Tonight we're headed to Ohio. But that's just our stop for the night. It's one of our safe houses along the Underground.”

“And then? The end goal?”

“The last place on earth where you would expect to find a world-class research center.” He switched hands on the wheel and flashed her a grin. “Any guesses?”

“No. Just tell me.”

“Not even one guess?”

“Oh, I don't know. The lost city of Atlantis?”

“Nope.”

“Carved into Mount Rushmore?”

“Nope, but you're getting closer.”

She frowned, more bewildered than ever. “I give up.”

A high-pitched shriek from the backseat interrupted them. He slammed on the brakes and Natalie's arms flew to block her face. A delicate hand closed around her shoulder and shook it.

“No!” Zoe shouted. “Look!”