Chromosome 6

Angelo ambled over to the booth. Vi

“I’ve never seen him,” Angelo said. “But Vi

“You see, I’ve gotten a few calls myself,” Vi

“I’m sorry that this has all gone so badly,” Raymond said.

“You and me both,” Vi

“Obviously, something went wrong,” Raymond said. “With all due respect, what can be done at this point?”

“As far as the body is concerned, we can’t do anything. Vi

Raymond moaned and cradled his head. His headache had intensified.

“Just a second, Doc,” Vi

Raymond raised his head. A ray of hope had appeared on the horizon. “How did you do that?” he asked.

“With a shotgun,” Vi

Angelo nodded. “The entire magazine of a pump action Remington. The guy’s gut looked like hamburger.”

“So I don’t think you have as much to worry about as you think,” Vi

“If Franconi’s liver was totally destroyed, why is Jack Stapleton asking whether Franconi had a transplant?” Raymond asked.

“Is he?” Vi

“He asked Dr. Levitz directly,” Raymond said.

Vi

Raymond raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“As I already told you, Doc,” Vi

Raymond looked hopefully at Angelo, and for the first time since Raymond had seen Angelo, Angelo smiled. It wasn’t much of a smile because all the scar tissue precluded most facial movement, but it was a smile nonetheless.

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting Laurie Montgomery for five years,” Angelo said.

“I suspected as much,” Vi

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to give us Dr. Stapleton’s,” Angelo said. “He wants this messy situation cleared up as much as anybody. As far as Laurie Montgomery is concerned, I already know her address.”

Vi

Raymond let out a little laugh of relief. “I can’t think of a better solution.” He worked his way along the curved, velvet banquette seat and stood up. “Thank you, Mr. Dominick. I’m much obliged, and apologize again for my thoughtless outburst when I first arrived.”

“Hold on, Doc,” Vi

“I thought this would be covered under the rubric of our prior agreement,” Raymond said, trying to sound businesslike without offending Vi

“That’s not the way I see it,” Vi

Raymond was outraged, but he managed to stifle a response. He also remembered what happened the last time he tried to bargain with Vi

“It might take me a little time to get that kind of money together,” Raymond said.

“That’s fine, Doc,” Vi

“Wonderful,” Raymond managed to say before leaving.

“Are you serious about this?” Angelo asked Vi

“I’m afraid so,” Vi

“When do you want us to take care of those two?” Angelo asked.

“The sooner the better,” Vi

CHAPTER 15

MARCH 6, 1997

7:30 P.M.

COGO, EQUATORIAL GUINEA

“AT what time did you expect your guests?” Esmeralda asked Kevin. Her body and head were wrapped in a handsome bright orange-and-green fabric.

“Seven o’clock,” Kevin said, happy for the distraction. He’d been sitting at his desk, trying to fool himself into believing he was reading one of his molecular biology journals. In reality, he was tortured by repeatedly ru

He could still see the soldiers in their red berets and jungle camouflage fatigues seemingly coming out of nowhere. He could hear their boots pounding against the moist earth and the jangle of their equipment as they ran. Worse yet, he could feel the same sickening terror that he’d felt when he’d turned to flee, expecting at any instant to hear the sound of machine-gun fire.

The dash across the clearing to the car and the wild ride had been somehow anticlimactic to that initial fright. The windows being shot out had an almost surreal quality that somehow couldn’t compare to his first glimpse of those soldiers.

Melanie had once again responded to the event completely differently than Kevin. It made Kevin wonder if growing up in Manhattan had somehow toughened her for such experiences. Rather than expressing fear, Melanie was more angry than afraid. She was furious at the soldiers’ wanton destruction of what she considered her property, even though the car technically belonged to GenSys.

“The di

Kevin thanked his attentive housekeeper, and she disappeared back into the kitchen. Tossing aside his journal, Kevin got up from his desk and walked out onto the veranda. Night had fallen, and he was begi

Kevin’s house fronted a small grassy square illuminated by old-fashioned street lamps. Directly across the square was Siegfried Spallek’s house. It was similar to Kevin’s with an arcaded first floor, a veranda around the second, and dormers in its steeply pitched roof. At present, there were lights only in the kitchen end of the house. Apparently, the manager had not yet come home.