Authors: John Saul
“Don’t say it,” he begged. “I know what you’re going to say, and I know you’ll regret it later. It’s not over, Lucy. I don’t know any more about it than you, but I know it’s not over. That’s what Bronski told me in the kitchen. He said we don’t know
where
Randy ran away from.”
“Randy said he ran away from home because he was afraid he was going to die.”
“No, I didn’t, Mom,” Randy said His parents looked down at him. “I ran away from the Academy. The one Daddy sent me to.”
Jim looked steadily into Lucy’s eyes. “I swear I don’t know what he’s talking about, Lucy.”
As they drove home Lucy wondered whether to believe him or not. She wanted to. God, how she wanted to. But could she?
The printer was spewing out the last of the computations Sally had ordered when the knock came at the door opening into the corridor. Mark Malone glanced at Sally, whose eyes filled with sudden fear.
“Who is it?” he called.
“Dr. Malone, is that you?” a woman’s uncertain voice answered.
Malone moved toward the door and opened it “If’s me.”
The nurse smiled in relief. “Thank God. I saw the light under your door and was afraid someone might have broken in.” She glanced into the office, recognizing Sally. “Why, hello, Mrs. Montgomery. Are you looking for Jason?”
“Jason?” Sally asked in surprise.
If the nurse noticed Sally’s blankness, she gave no sign. “He’s in Dr. Wiseman’s office with your husband.”
“I—what—?”
But before she could say anything else, Mark Malone held up a warning hand. “Thank you,” he said to the nurse. “Mrs. Montgomery and I were just discussing the problem.” Then, without waiting for the nurse to reply, he closed the door. He turned to Sally, whose expression of surprise had turned to one of worry.
“Jason and Steve are
here?
But why?”
“I don’t know,” Malone said. “But I don’t think we’d better wait around to find out. Someone’s sure to tell Wiseman you’re here.” He began stuffing his briefcase
with the printouts. “Shut that thing off, and let’s get out of here.”
Sally switched the terminal off, stood up, and began gathering her things together. Malone had already opened the door to the parking lot, waiting for her. And then, as she started across the room, Sally stopped. “I can’t go.”
Malone stared at her. “Sally, we’ve got to”
But Sally was shaking her head. “I can’t go. Jason’s here, and I have to find out why,”
“Sally—”
“Mark, you have all the data. Take it and go.” She looked up at him imploringly. “Mark, he’s my son. If something’s wrong, I’ve got to be with him. Don’t you see?”
Malone’s mind raced, and he came to a quick decision. “I’ll go with you,” he said. He closed the outside door and moved toward Sally, who took a step back.
“No. Take those printouts and go back to Lucy’s. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
“If Wiseman gets his hands on you, you might not get back at all,” Malone said, his voice tight. He patted the briefcase. “And right now we need you to lead us through all this. Come on.”
Taking her by the arm, he led her out of his office and through the corridors to Arthur Wiseman’s waiting room. There, sitting on a chair leafing through a magazine, was Jason. He looked up and grinned.
“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dr. Malone.”
Sally dropped to her knees and hugged the boy. “Honey, what are you doing here? Are you all right?”
“I’m okay,” Jason said, wriggling free of the embrace.
“Then what are you doing here?”
Jason did his best to explain what had happened. “So Dr. Wiseman told Dad to bring me down, and he took some of my blood, and I think he wants me to go somewhere else.”
“Somewhere else?” Sally breathed.
Jason looked guilty. “I put my ear against the door and listened,” he admitted. “He wants me to go somewhere
for ob—” He frowned, then remembered the word. “Observation.”
Sally looked up at Malone. “I don’t understand—”
“Don’t you? I think maybe I do.” He reached down and swung Jason up off the chair. “How’d you like to go for a ride with your mother and me, sport?”
“Where?”
“Over to visit some friends.” He started out of the waiting room, speaking to Sally over his shoulder, “Come on.”
With an uncertain glance at the closed door leading to Dr. Wiseman’s inner office, Sally followed.
“T
HEN IT’S SETTLED
,” Arthur Wiseman said. He stood up, stretched, and came around to lean on the edge of his desk. “CHILD has the best children’s diagnostic clinic in the country. If they can’t find out what’s going on with Jason, nobody can. Now, it seems to me that we might as well keep the boy here tonight and send him to Boston in the morning.”
But Steve was still not quite sure. “Can’t he stay home tonight? It seems to me—”
“And it seems to me,” Wiseman interrupted emphatically, “that you have quite enough to worry about tonight.”
“But there’s nothing really wrong with him.”
“So it would appear,” Wiseman agreed. “But appearances can be deceiving.” His voice dropped slightly. “Don’t forget Julie.”
At mention of his daughter’s name, the last of Steve’s resistance crumbled. He rose to his feet and went to the door, opening it. “Jason?”
The waiting room was empty. “Jason?” he repeated, more loudly this time. Then Wiseman was beside him.
“He probably got bored and went to the emergency room,” the older man suggested.
But when they got to the emergency room, it, too, was
empty, with only the duty nurse sitting placidly at her desk.
“Did Jason Montgomery come through here?” Wiseman asked.
The nurse shook her head. “I haven’t seen him. Maybe he’s in Dr. Malone’s office.”
“Malone? Is he here?”
Now the nurse’s smile faded into an uncertain frown. “Of course. Didn’t you see him? He and Mrs. Montgomery—”
“Mrs. Montgomery!” Wiseman flared. Blood rushed into his face as sudden fury raged through him. “I gave orders that if anybody—
anybody
—saw Mrs. Montgomery, I was to be notified immediately.”
The nurse trembled under his wrath. “I—I’m sorry, Dr. Wiseman,” she stammered. “I didn’t know. No one told me when I came on shift, and—” But she was talking to an empty room. Wiseman, followed by Steve Montgomery, was striding down the hall toward Malone’s office.
It, too, was empty.
The two men stood silently for a moment, and it was Steve Montgomery who at last spoke, his voice quiet, defeated. “I don’t get it.”
“Neither do I,” Wiseman replied tightly. “But it seems that Sally must have convinced Malone that there’s something to her fantasies.”
And suddenly Steve knew exactly where his wife had gone. “Lucy Corliss,” he said. “They’re with Lucy Corliss.” He started through Malone’s office. “Come on.”
“Wait a minute,” Wiseman said. Steve turned to face him. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to get my wife and son!”
“And if Sally doesn’t want to go with you?”
“She has to—I’m her husband!”
“Think, Steve. She doesn’t trust you, and she doesn’t trust me. Apparently, she only trusts this Corliss woman, and maybe Mark Malone. Nor does she have to do anything she doesn’t want to. You can’t barge in there and drag her out, even if you think it’s for her own good.”
Steve’s shoulders slumped; suddenly he felt exhausted—
exhausted and frustrated. “But I have to do something,” he said at last “I can’t just let her take Jason, let things go. I can’t …”
“For now,” Wiseman said softly, “there isn’t anything else you can do. Wait until morning, Steve.” He led the unhappy man back to his own office, where he opened his drug cabinet, shook four tablets out of a bottle and into an envelope, and handed it to Steve. “Go home and try to get some sleep. If you need to, take these. And stop worrying—Mark Malone is a good man. He won’t let anything happen to either Sally or Jason. Then, tomorrow, if she hasn’t come home, we’ll take whatever action is necessary to protect her.”
Steve Montgomery, his mind whirling with conflicting doubts and emotions, made his way out into the night.
“But
why
did you go with that woman?” Lucy asked for the third time. Once again, Randy repeated his answer.
“She said Daddy sent her. They said Daddy was on a trip, and when he got back, he’d come and visit me.”
“But I haven’t been anywhere, son,” Jim Corliss told the little boy. “Ever since the day you disappeared, I’ve been right here, trying to help your mother find you.”
Randy’s expression reflected his uncertainty. He turned to his mother.
“It’s true, darling,” she assured him. “He hasn’t been on a trip at all.”
“And I’m not going to die?” Randy asked, his voice quavering.
Lucy gathered him into her arms. “Of course you’re not going to die,” she whispered. “You’re a very healthy little boy, and there’s no reason on earth for you to die.” And yet, as she recalled the strange story he’d related, she wondered.
Nothing about the Academy sounded right. It didn’t sound like a school to her, at least not a school she’d ever heard of.
Had he told the truth?
Once or twice, as Randy had talked, she’d caught a
glimpse of Carl Bronski’s face, and she’d seen doubt She’d seen it in his eyes, in the set of his mouth, in the nearly imperceptible shakings of his head. Bronski, she knew, didn’t quite believe what he was hearing.
And then, with the arrival of Sally, Jason, and Malone, her doubts were shunted aside while she explained to Sally what had happened. Finally she turned to Malone. “Could you look at him? We got his clothes off him and bathed him, and he seems to be all right, but after what he told us …”
“No problem,” Malone replied. He turned to the two boys, who were happily whispering together. “Randy? How’d you like to have me take a look at you?”
“I’m okay,” Randy said, but before Randy could protest further, Lucy stepped in.
“You’re going with Dr. Malone, and then you’re going to bed. It’s past midnight.”
“And Jason’s going with you,” Sally added.
Suddenly, with the prospect of his friend sleeping over, Randy grinned. “Okay. Can Jason watch the examination?”
“Sure,” Malone agreed. “But it’s not going to be very interesting. I’m just going to make sure you’re breathing. Come on.” He led the boys off to Randy’s room, and a sudden silence fell over the group in the living room. It was Sally who finally broke it.
“Lucy, I’m so happy for you—it’s like a miracle. But where was he?”
“Better wait for Malone,” Bronski said. “No point in going through it all twice. What did you find?”
“A lot,” Sally replied. “If’s all in Mark’s bag, at least as much as we could get. And there’s no question that something’s going on. Dr. Wiseman lied to me, and CHILD lied to you, Lucy. Those children weren’t picked randomly.”
“You’re surer?” Bronski asked.
“I’m sure,” Sally said quietly. “I don’t know yet how they were picked for that study or what it’s all about, but it’s all there. Wait until you see.” She opened
Malone’s briefcase and began pulling the printouts from its depths.
“My Lord,” Lucy whispered as the pile grew. “So much.”
“And most of it probably doesn’t mean a thing. A lot of this is nothing more than copies of medical records.” “What for?”
“For us to search through. Somewhere there’s a common factor that makes all these children special. We’re going to have to find it.”
“What’s all this?” Carl Bronski asked. He was holding several sheets of paper that were stapled together. Sally glanced at them.
“The correlations. On the third page there’s a list of names of all the children involved in Group Twenty-one.”
Jim Corliss, who was also thumbing through the stacks of documents, looked at Sally curiously. “Group Twenty-one?”
“It’s a name Mark and I have been using.” Quickly, she explained the system CHILD had used for keeping track of its subjects. “And all of our children are in that group,” she finished. “Jason and Randy, and Julie, and Jan Ransom’s baby.”
Bronski pulled the list of names loose from the rest of the papers. “Ill be back in an hour,” he said. Before anyone could protest, he was gone.
A few minutes later Mark Malone rejoined the others.
“Randy’s fine,” he told them. “Not that I expected anything else. Now tell us what happened to him.”
Between them Jim and Lucy did their best to retell Randy’s story. “I know it doesn’t sound plausible,” Lucy finished. “I mean, no one can climb over an electrified fence.”
“And no one can spill boiling fudge on himself without getting burned, or drink Lysol without even getting sick,” Sally added. “But we
know
those things happened too.”
Lucy felt a chill go through her. The happiness she had been clinging to ever since she had heard Randy’s
voice on the telephone began to slip away. “You mean it could all be true?” she asked, turning to Malone.
“I don’t know,” Malone replied carefully. “But that’s why we’re here, isn’t it? To see if there’s any proof in these records.” Sighing heavily, he sat down and picked up the medical charts. “Let’s start going through them,” he said in a weary tone. “And don’t ask what we’re looking for, because I don’t know. Similarities. Just start reading them and try to spot similarities.” He passed them out to Jim and Lucy and Sally.
The room fell silent as the four of them began reading.
The desk sergeant at the Eastbury police station looked up in surprise when Carl Bronski walked in.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Got a message to put on the telex.”
The sergeant, who was a terrible typist, tossed a few obscenities at Bronski. Only when he was done did Bronski tell him that he planned to do the work himself. The desk sergeant brightened. “In that case, help yourself.”
Bronski seated himself at the console, and began typing. He worked steadily for twenty minutes, then transmitted his message. He stood up and stretched.
“What’s it all about?” the desk sergeant inquired with an obvious lack of interest.
“Don’t know yet,” Bronski said. “But if you get an answer to any of those, you call me right away. Okay?” He scribbled Lucy Corliss’s number on the desk calendar.