The Beasts Of Valhalla

7

It was all I could do to stay away from Janet's home the next morning, but I knew that it wouldn't do any good to stand over Zeke and drool down his neck while he was working. I certainly wanted quick results, but pressuring Zeke would be counter productive.

I spent the morning in the Peru City library reading everything I could find on DNA research and genetic engineering. I assumed I was slightly better informed than the average layman because of my long-standing interest in human growth hormone, but I wanted to dig deeper.

It struck me how far and fast the field had expanded since the time, only a few years ago, when gene splicing had been viewed as a sure road to self-destruction, a doomsday device impossible to defuse and just waiting to swallow up, or deform, all life on earth. Many scientists had urged that all research into genetic engineering be banned, for fear of creating diseases that could not be defended against. Indeed, although a total ban was never seriously considered, DNA research was virtually the only human endeavor every scientist on the face of the earth had agreed must be carefully controlled, with strict international safeguards. Protocols had been signed.

First individual cells had been cloned, then frogs. There'd been a report of the cloning of a human, but it had been universally dismissed as ridiculous and the "clone" had never been produced; genetic research and gene splicing with higher forms of life had proved far more difficult, and was still considered highly dangerous, if not unethical.

However, the scientists had shown that some gene splicing could be conducted safely, and gradually the controls in certain specific areas had been relaxed. A great deal of genetic research was still taboo, but work with bacteria and plants had already yielded the wondrous results Bill Jackson had alluded to. In the fields of bacteriology and botany, nothing less than new species of life were being created virtually every day. Universities with genetic research programs had toyed with the idea of setting up their own profit-making companies, and the first gene-splicing concern to go public, Genentech, had sold all its stock within minutes of its initial offering on Wall Street.

Perceptions had changed dramatically; the end of human disease and deformity was being confidently forecast; the doomsday device had become, in the view of many, the key to the Gates of Eden.

There was absolutely no reason for an outfit like Volsung to have set up shop in secret, in the middle of a midwestern prairie, behind a death fence. Not if they were doing what they said they were doing. Which, of course, I damn well knew they weren't.

Tense and nervous with growing anxiety over just how big a beast I had stumbled on, I still managed to put on a happy face for my parents while we had lunch. Exhausted, more from tension than any exertion, I lay down afterward. I'd just fallen asleep when my father came to wake me up. Janet had called and asked that I come over right away.

Flying in Zeke had certainly brought quick results, but they weren't exactly what I'd hoped or looked for.

Jake Bolesh was standing on my sister's porch, gripping Zeke's elbow. Zeke's hands were cuffed behind his back. Two of Bolesh's deputies were going in and out of the house, lugging Tommy's computer components, book collection, and taped cartons, loading everything into a police van. Janet, looking sullen and angry, was standing at the end of the driveway, arms folded defiantly across her chest. John Dernhelm stood at the far end of the porch, looking sheepish and unsure of himself; it told me who had informed Bolesh about my conversation with Coop Lugmor, and how Bolesh had found out about Zeke. It occurred to me that most of the people in Peru County probably acted as informers for the county sheriff.

"Robby, I'm sorry," Janet said tersely as I got out of the car. "John got frightened and did a stupid thing."

"It's all right, Janet," I said, patting her on the arm as I walked past her. "I'll take care of it."

"I couldn't help it, Doc," Zeke began as I approached the porch, stopped on the first step. "This cracker barged in here half an hour ago and- "

"Shut up, nigger!" Bolesh snapped.

Like a poisonous chameleon, the old Jake Bolesh I'd known and loved had changed back to his true colors. In an odd way, I found that comforting; as a mean-spirited, cruel, and dangerous son-of-a-bitch, he was easier to see and to defend against. The fencing, the dainty little gavotte that had begun the day before in his office, was ended. Perhaps, I thought, it was just as well.

I found it a bit unsettling to realize how much I enjoyed nursing the near lifelong grudge that was Jake Bolesh; more than anything else, I wanted to nail him for something. Anything. A character defect.

"You're in trouble, Frederickson."

"Oh? Why is that, Jake?"

"Aiding and abetting a felony, after the fact."

"Terrific charge. I love it. What's the felony? Hiring someone to index my nephew's effects?"

"How about conspiring to withhold evidence?"

I glanced at Zeke, who gave a slight shake of his head. He hadn't found out anything. I was just about to turn my eyes away when I saw him roll his eyes in an exaggerated manner, then look down at his chest and close his left eye. He had something for me in his left shirt pocket.

"What evidence?" I asked, turning my attention back to Bolesh. "You said the investigation was over."

"A murder investigation is never officially closed, Frederickson. You're a hot-shot criminologist; you should know that. If you had reason to believe there was something important in that computer, you should have told me; you broke the law when you didn't tell me, and I warned you what would happen if you broke the law here."

"Jake, my man, I haven't the vaguest notion what's in that computer. I had no reason to tell you anything, and I don't even know what the hell you're talking about. I wasn't investigating any murder-suicide. I was interested in my nephew's frame of mind, looking for some clue to what could have gotten him in the mess he did. It's strictly personal family business. Isn't that what you told him, Zeke?"

"Doc, that is precisely what I told him," Zeke answered in a carefully measured tone. "No more, no less."

"I told you to shut up!" Jake shouted, yanking on Zeke's handcuffs so hard that I winced. "Don't play word games with me, Frederickson! You believe there's something in that computer or those books that could have a bearing on this case! You should have told me about them!"

"Arguable. Look, Jake, if you want to arrest and charge me, be my guest. I can't wait for the trial; I guarantee you I'll hire the loudest lawyer in the country. You have a warrant to take this stuff out?"

"Damn right. In any case, I have the permission of the dead boy's father." "Robby?" John Dernhelm said in a small voice. "What you're tying to do hasn't been right from the beginning. Tommy should be allowed to rest in peace."

"Are you arresting this man?" I asked Bolesh, ignoring my brother-in-law. "He was just doing a job for me."

"I should arrest him for conspiracy, but I'm going to give him a break."

"Then why don't you take the cuffs off?"

"When I put him on the bus to the airport."

"I'll take him to the airport."

"The hell you will. I figure you'll be too busy, starting right now, making your own travel arrangements."

"You throwing me out of town, Jake? Don't I get until sundown?"

"You figure out where you'd rather be, Frederickson; home with all the other weirdos in New York City, or in the Peru County jail lacing those charges I mentioned."

"I'll give it some thought."

We glared at each other in silence for a few moments before Bolesh clumped down the steps, brushed me aside, and went to inspect the van. Zeke picked that opportune moment to suffer a severe coughing fit. Careful not to appear that I was in a hurry, I climbed up on the porch and patted him on the back as he doubled over. At the same time I slipped my hand into his shirt pocket, felt the plastic card I'd found earlier in Tommy's table drawer.

"It doesn't go with the computer," Zeke whispered. "It's a magnetic pass card. You find the right gate, and that'll open it."