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She had to call NIH and CDC, had to impress upon them the urgent need for a solution, had to tell them about Jack and the antibodies he undoubtedly carried.
She tried to reach for the phone but her hand refused to obey.
No. No calls to government health agencies. That would be c ounterpr oductive.
All she could do was sit. She was desperate for something, anything to distract her, even for a moment.
Can I at least read a magazine or paper or watch the news on TV?
What for?
How about to find out what's going on in the world?
What is happening out there does not matter.
Keep on thinking that way. I like it. Because that world out there is going to bring you down.
We think not. The history of "that world out there" begins a new chapter tonight.
Tonight? The utter confidence resonating through the voice troubled her. What happens tonight?
Something wonderful. We had to wait for The One Who was Jeanette to be fully integrated, and then for the bonds of unity to mature. Tonight, finally, it will be possible.
But what?
You are not yet ready to know. When you are further integrated you will understand.
Another of your inevitabilities?
Yes! The Great Leap that will make the Great Inevitability possible.
Kate didn't like the sound of that. Tell me.
When you are ready. Right now you will watch as we remove a threat to the Great Inevitability.
Oh, no. Did they mean Jack?
Yes. Your brother. We must do what you would not.
No! Please!
Watch.
Jack's TV room slowly faded from view…
… and Kate is walking along a New York street. She's crossing an avenue; somehow she knows it's Amsterdam. And then with a start she recognizes Jack walking three-quarters of a block ahead. She's behind him; the sun is locked above the rain-laden clouds, but she knows he's heading west.
Jack stops at a corner and swivels, looking around. As he turns toward Kate she makes a quick turn to the right, stepping between two cars and crossing the street, keeping her face averted from Jack as she moves. Only this isn't Kate's body; the arm that swings into view isn't hers—too scrawny, too old looking.
Kate gasps because suddenly she's watching Jack again, but from a greater distance and an entirely different angle—looking at his back. Somehow she's shifted almost 180 degrees, and a distance of two blocks, instantaneously.
Then with a shock she realizes what's happened. The Unity is following Jack and has shifted its viewpoint from one member to another. She's in a man's body now—can tell from the hairy wrist protruding from the jacket sleeve before her—and watching through the side window of a double-parked car as Jack turns her way and continues his trek.
No! Leave him alone!
We ca
Viral ethics… anyone who won't help increase their numbers is disposable.
Please. I beg you.
We need peace for the Great Leap. To achieve it we need time for the eight of us to be together, isolated, undisturbed. Your brother is bent on disrupting us, fragmenting us. We ca
She has to stop this!
Frantic, Kate tries to rise to her feet but her legs won't respond. She has to warn Jack, but even if she can reach the phone, how will she contact him? She's seen a cell phone and beeper on his dresser during her stay, but she doesn't know the numbers.
As the Unity—the perfect surveillance machine, each component in constant contact with all others, covering all possible routes—ranges around Jack in cars and on foot, Kate screams her frustration and bangs intangible fists against the walls of her flesh prison, all to no avail. She is a ghost in her own machine.
2
Beth, looking great in an exercise bra and ru
"I thought you told me there was a murder cult involved."
"Legal wouldn't let me use it. They said hearsay from a single source was not enough. Too far out on a limb. We'd be just asking to be sued. Damn!"
"It's still a good story."
"Yeah, but no staying power. Without the cult hook it's just another murder. I need some way to pump this into something that matters."
Beth looked at him. "Doesn't the death of a medical researcher who was trying to make the world a better place matter enough?"
"Well, it matters, yeah, but—"
"I'm sure it matters to his wife and son."
"Ex-wife."
Beth shrugged. "Still… something like that shouldn't happen to anyone. But when it's someone who was trying to find a cure for cancer, it seems doubly tragic."
She was right, as usual. Maybe that was the angle he'd have to play for now—until he could substantiate cult activity.
But even without that angle, this issue was special because it also ran his advocacy piece continuing the amnesty call for the Savior. Both in the first three pages. Which had led Pokorny to quip that soon Palmer would be writing the entire paper.
Sandy finished his coffee while Beth went back to work on the treatment for her film. He leaned over and kissed her.
"Got to go. Meeting somebody at nine, then the DA later on. I'll catch you later."
A short, shoulder-to-shoulder ride on the crowded Nine, followed by a quick walk, and he was back in Riverside Park. He and the Savior had arranged to meet at nine this morning to follow up, but the Savior had set the spot ten blocks uptown from their previous encounters.
He'd also told him to make sure he wasn't followed. That was an unsettling thought, but Sandy kept an eye out and couldn't find a hint that anyone was tailing him.
With rain threatening, the park was almost deserted. Sandy had his pick of empty benches. He chose one under a tree—in case it started to rain—and sat down. The Savior appeared a few minutes later, and sat on the far end of the bench.
"You look better," Sandy said. He still lacked the vitality of the man he'd first encountered here, but at least he didn't look like death warmed over. "That poison must be working its way out of your system."
"What?" the Savior said. He twisted his body back and forth, doing a full scan of the park. "Oh, yeah. I'm up to maybe seventy-five percent." He slumped back and rubbed his temples as if he had a headache.
"Holdstock walked," Sandy said. "Despite the handprint."
The Savior shrugged. "Figured that would happen. His cult buddies alibied him, right?"
"Right." He explained his dilemma about not being allowed to use the cult angle. "I mentioned that Terrence Holdstock was questioned, then released, but couldn't go beyond that."
The Savior said, "You've got to. There's a big story there."
"Yeah but I can't squeeze more ink out of it without an angle."
"Fielding was strangled. Can you imagine what that's like? Eyes bugging out, head feeling like it's going to explode. Nasty way to go. I think hunting his killer should be angle enough."
Sandy had to smile. "Do you know my girlfriend?"
"Should I?" he said, doing another body-twisting scan.
"Something wrong?
"You sure you weren't followed?"
"Absolutely." Well, not absolutely, but he was reasonably sure. "Why?"
"Got this watched feeling."
"Yeah?" Sandy glanced around. He saw a few people strolling above on Riverside Drive, but none of them appeared particularly interested in what was going on down here. "I don't."