Out Of Time. Cliff Ryder

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      “Go lay down, baby,” Brin called out. “We’ll be out in a minute.”

      “I want to come in,” Savannah called petulantly. “I want to wake you up.”

      Brin started to speak again, but Alex stopped her. His hand shook as he gripped her arm, and he released her as if he’d been bitten. He let his voice break a little to help explain away the tremor.

      “Let’s get dressed and let her in,” he said softly. “I miss both my girls, you know? I don’t want to miss a moment with either of you.”

      She watched him. He saw her glance at his hand, and he willed it to be steady, just this one time. It remained rock solid, and she stroked his cheek, then laughed.

      “Okay, hotshot. I’ll get dressed first, then you. I have to get out and make breakfast. I have a big day. I have a meeting with Rand this morning, something new—and big. He wants me to go over some new research.”

      “Big brains and nice breasts.” Alex laughed. He lunged for her, but she was too quick, slipping off the edge of the bed. He watched her, and a lump filled his throat. He didn’t try to speak, and moments later she had her nightgown on and stood, waiting on him.

      “Rise and shine, hero,” she said, smiling brightly. “I get the shower, you get the child. I’ll trade you in twenty minutes.”

      He grinned at her, rolled out of the bed and fumbled in the dresser until he found a pair of pajama pants and a T-shirt. He turned just in time to see Brin disappear into the hall, and Savannah’s bright, inquisitive face peering back in through the door. Growling like a bear, he charged.

      His daughter squealed, spun and scampered off down the hallway. Alex pursued, but not too quickly. Some races are better if you come in last, and he knew where she was headed. A soft couch pillow to hide behind and screams for cartoons would come next. He smiled and dived after her, sliding onto the couch, spinning and curling her in close. Before she could even ask, he’d clicked the remote and brought the big-screen TV to life. Alex buried his nose in his daughter’s soft hair and closed his eyes as she giggled, squirmed and laughed at the prancing animated nonsense on the screen.

      He squeezed her tight, enjoying the contentment he felt at that moment. If only it could always be that way.

      THE REST OF THE MORNING passed far too quickly. He nearly broke down hugging Savannah goodbye, and she wasn’t happy to hear he was leaving again. Alex watched from the doorway as Brin bustled the girl into the SUV, and didn’t turn away until the two of them were down the road and out of sight.

      He packed lightly. There was no way to know what he was getting into—not exactly. It was better to choose his gear after he knew. His magic was camouflage, but it was a subtle art. He couldn’t carry too much, or too little. It wasn’t enough to take on the appearance of a new persona. It was absolutely inadequate to simulate change. He had to disappear. He had to melt into another reality where Alex Tempest didn’t exist at all—or if he did, he was disconnected. He had very little time.

      Too many things could go wrong. If the doctor mentioned his condition to anyone connected to Room 59, the mission would be aborted. If there was any incident indicating he was less than one hundred percent, he’d never leave the country. Funding would dry up, and very likely his access to Room 59 would cease to exist, as well. There was nothing he could do to expose them, not that he would. They might contact him, but somehow he didn’t believe that they would. They were a tight, close-knit group, for all their independent operations, but there was one truth binding them all. The mission came first. The greater good overshadowed personal glory, needs and safety.

      In less than an hour, he was out the door. Before he left, he went to the small garden he and Brin had planted behind the house. Very carefully, he clipped a single rose and a small violet. He carried them inside and sat at the table in the kitchen to write.

      He started several notes to Brin. He wanted to tell her everything. Their love had always been based on trust, and not sharing—particularly at this moment—felt like a betrayal. In the end, he carefully shredded his first four attempts and wrote simply, “I love you,” on a card. He drew a heart and carefully slit the paper, sliding the stem of the rose through it like an arrow.

      Then, with equal care, he drew a cartoon bear on a second sheet of paper. He laid the violet across it and wrote carefully, “I can’t bear to be without you. See you soon. Love, Daddy.”

      He couldn’t remember ever tearing up so many times in the space of a single day. It seemed as though even the ability to control his emotions was being taken from him. He brushed it away, grabbed his things and slipped out the door, locking it behind him. He looked back only once, staring at the small, comfortable home wistfully. Then he turned and walked into another life as if he’d never existed.

      7

      Brin spent the first hour in her office, filing correspondence, answering e-mail and fuming over lost time. Meetings were a big part of her life as director of the lab, but they infuriated her. Every moment she spent schmoozing board members, entertaining investors and planning for the future of the company was time away from her research.

      A lot of very talented men and women were involved in the same sort of research she conducted, searching for clues to the nature of degenerative diseases, testing and retesting possible cures. She knew most of the best and brightest by name, the rest by reputation. In a few she recognized kindred souls, minds and hearts dedicated to healing and life. In too many others, though, she found only greed, pride and the bickering nature of academia.

      This time it felt different. She’d had an odd sense of impending accomplishment since the call from her CEO, Hershel Rand. He very seldom involved himself in the nuts and bolts of the company. He was a high-energy, high-efficiency administrator. He knew the worlds of money and corporate warfare as well as Brin knew her cultures and petri dishes, and the two rarely crossed paths. Other than annual budget talks and occasional pep talks, he let her run things the way she saw fit.

      Now he said he had something she had to see, something he didn’t trust anyone else to handle. He knew how she worked, and more importantly, she thought he knew why she worked. He said researchers in China had presented some brilliant work—something that could shift the entire paradigm of genetic research. These weren’t the sorts of things he would say in idle conversation. Nothing was insignificant in his world; no moment was wasted. As Brin’s fingers slipped and she nearly spilled a file folder’s contents onto the floor in her haste to clear her desk, she smiled. She hadn’t been so excited about a meeting since her initial job interview years in the past.

      She only wished Alex would be there to share it with. He didn’t fully understand her work, but he supported it—and her—and she knew he’d listen. When he was away, she felt isolated and kept things bottled up. He really was a vital part of her life, and she felt—too often—that she was operating under a painful handicap.

      Brin swept the rest of the mess off her desk and into a large box. She could file it later, when there was idle time. Her hand whipped up in a nervous gesture that displayed the watch Alex had given her for her first Mother’s Day—the year she got pregnant with Savannah. Five minutes. She’d better go upstairs to Hershel’s office.

      She made the elevator just as the doors began to close, slipped inside and sighed with relief. The ninth-floor button was already lit and she smiled. She didn’t usually get this worked up, but Hershel had been excited and her mood had fed off his ever since.

      Elaine, Rand’s executive СКАЧАТЬ