Nobody Gets The Girl (24 page)

"OK. I won't deny he's got some pretty
ambitious schemes, and I've seen some of the bad things that can
result from them. But the stuff you're talking about is pretty
far-fetched. I don't think the people of the world are likely to go
along with it."

"He's working on that." Again, Monday's
fingers flew across the keyboards, now bringing up a list of names.
"He controls the world's media. Not all of it, of course, not yet,
but one by one he's taking over newspapers, networks, websites. Do
you know what this list of names is?"

"You send them Christmas cards."

"These are reporters who've stumbled onto
parts of his master plan." He began to scroll through the list.
Most of the names were green, some were red, and some were black.
"The green ones are dismissed as conspiracy nuts. The information
they put out isn't very well-documented, and they get fed enough
disinformation to render them harmless. They're the lucky ones. The
red names are reporters who've had the bad luck to stumble onto
something more solid."

He tapped a name on the screen.

"This one, Christina Garamond, she's been to
Dr. Know's island. She was a journalism student working summers
with her father's construction company. She helped install some of
those fancy goo tubes Dr. Know keeps his victims in. Most of the
workers just put the stuff where they're told and don't ask
questions. Christina asked lots. She took a lot of pictures and
swiped whole reams of documents and blueprints. She wrote a truly
devastating book about her discoveries, and mailed it off to
publishers. A lot of the editors she sent it to are also on this
list as red names. One by one, the manuscripts have been destroyed.
Many of these people have lost their homes in fires. A few of these
people have landed in jail on trumped up charges. Christina is
presently in a hospital, her intelligence reduced to that of an
eight-year-old, thanks to a head injury she received in an
'accident.'"

Nobody quietly stared at the list. There were
a lot of red names. And more than a few black ones.

"The black ones are dead," said Monday.

"You're saying he killed these people."

"Yes."

"To keep his secret."

"Yes."

Nobody rubbed his throbbing temples with his
fingers. "I don't believe you."

"I know. It's tough to swallow. If you'd
like, we can visit some of the red names. You can hear their
stories directly, judge for yourself. Although, I have to warn you.
They talk too much, they wind up a black name."

"Doesn't matter. You could take me to people
you've planted. They could say anything you want them to."

Monday grinned. "Ah. A skeptic. I admire you
for maintaining your skepticism after receiving unquestionable
first-hand proof of time travel, mind control, and women who aren't
bound by laws of gravity."

"Even if I believed, it doesn't matter. I
mean, when it comes right down to it, I'll give you the benefit of
the doubt. Maybe Dr. Know is up to his eyeballs in this conspiracy
junk. Maybe you see yourself as some kind of noble freedom fighter
in opposing him. But you said it yourself—people with noble
intentions do the worst things. And you've done some fairly vile
things, placing children in danger."

"I won't stand by idly while Dr. Know twists
the world to conform to his warped vision."

"I will. Because, you know, it just doesn't
matter. Dr. Know and you, you're like, what, sixty? Sixty-five?
He's making plans for the world in 2050, and 2150, but he's not
going to be around to see them come to fruition. Whatever damage
he's doing will be undone, eventually. One man, even as powerful as
he is, only gets so many years to mess things up."

"You must not have been paying attention,"
said Monday. "Didn't I mention his cloning program?"

"Fine. So he clones himself. It's not like
his clones will really be him. They'll have their own experiences,
their own lives."

"No. His ability to use other minds to house
his consciousness will be greatly enhanced with his clones. He will
be able to effect a complete transfer, with total control of a new
host body, if his theories are correct. He'll be able to move from
body to body, should such a thing even be needed. His medical
research leads him to believe that with proper diet and genetic
repair therapy, he may be able to extend his own healthy life to
well over one hundred and twenty years. Who knows what meddling
he'll be able to accomplish in another six decades?"

"And who knows how many busses full of
children you'll blow up, huh?"

"I do. None. You go back in time and stop Dr.
Know and I stop my war against him. You kill him; I'll take his
place and stop his mad schemes. I'll turn the world free of his
grasp, and mine as well. And you, you'll get to go back to the life
you knew. You'll be happy and free of your curse."

Nobody looked at the silver hood he held.

"It still doesn't make sense," he said.
"He'll be alive when I go back."

"He'll be dead in my world. You have your
time line, I have mine. There are infinite worlds. It's only the
limitations of our minds that make us think there's one. In my
world, he'll be dead. You have the power to grant my wish. I have
the power to grant yours."

Nobody wadded up the hood and shoved it into
his pocket. This was too much to think about. But maybe it was time
to stop thinking. Maybe it was time to follow his gut instinct. He
wanted off this roller coaster.

"Fine," he said. "Give me a gun. Send me back
to the island. I'll put a bullet in his head. All I want is to go
home."

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I'M NOT REALLY YOUR FRIEND

MONDAY HANDED HIM
the pistol. Light
played over its smooth black surface. It weighed heavily in his
hand, the most solid thing Nobody had ever touched.

"If I use the space machine to take us to the
island, he’ll know instantly," said Monday. "It's important that
you approach in a fashion that he won't find suspicious."

"I guess I could dress as a pizza boy."

Monday took a large graphing calculator from
his shirt pocket. "How's your stomach?"

"Urn... a little better. Not much. Is that
your space machine? I thought you weren't going to use that thing
to get to the island."

Rex Monday leaned over his laptop, pulling up
a scheduling program. "Hmm. Looks like Mindo is at the Miami
airport even as we speak. That'll do."

"For—"

Monday clicked the equal key on the
calculator.

The world twisted as Nobody blinked. His
eyelids felt dry as they slipped across his toes.

"—what," finished Nobody. There was a blast
of heat, and he raised his hands to shield his eyes from the bright
sunlight.

"Welcome to Miami," said Monday, though he
could barely be heard. Overhead, a giant jet was climbing into the
sky.

"You did it again, you bastard," said Nobody,
clutching his stomach.

"No time to waste," said Monday. “Mindo is
heading for Dr. Know's jet right now. You need to sneak onto the
jet, and get back to the island."

"What's Mindo doing here?"

"Buying beer and cigarettes? Does it matter?
You've got about thirty seconds before they close the door. That's
his jet over there."

Nobody recognized it.

"Go," said Monday.

Nobody loped across the airfield, reaching
the steps and racing up them to get inside just before the door
closed.

He felt the weight of the gun in his pocket,
shifting as he took a seat. The plane taxied down the runway. From
the window, he watched the ground slip away.

"Next stop," he said, "Murderville."

HE WALKED SLOWLY
from the airstrip to
the mansion. Mindo had gone ahead, taking a golf cart, but Nobody
felt the need to walk. He had a few stops to make before meeting
Dr. Know again.

He went to the rose garden, to the fountain,
and to Alexander's grave. But the grave was gone. Where the stone
slab had stood, there was only a carpet of green grass. He walked
around the fountain to be sure. It was true. Dr. Know had either
moved the gravestone, or destroyed it.

"Oh, Doc," said Nobody, with a sigh. "Why do
you have to make this so easy?"

He walked up to the main house. The repairs
had been completed. The house looked as if it had never been
chopped in half. The newness of the paint gave it a brighter,
happier look than it had the last time he'd seen it. But when he
stepped inside, he could sense a change in the atmosphere. The
portrait of the family that had once hung above the giant fireplace
was gone, replaced by a gilded mirror.

He walked up the staircase, listening to the
silence of the house. Not that the house had ever been the home of
raucous parties, but usually it hadn't been this quiet. Gone were
the sounds of Rail Blade exercising in the gym, vanished were the
rap songs that the Thrill would play at top volume from her
stereo.

And yet, as he walked down the hall and came
to the library, he found one thing unchanged. Katrina Knowbokov
still sat in the library reading, in her padded leather chair, her
glasses perched at the end of her nose. Nobody approached her.

He pulled the silver hood from his pocket. He
carefully, gently, pulled it over her head. The second it slipped
over her eyes, she jumped, sending her glasses falling to the
floor.

"Aah," she cried, kicking his legs as she
scrambled backwards, knocking over her chair.

"Whoa!" said Nobody. "It's OK! It's OK. I
won't hurt you. I won't hurt you."

"Who... who are you?"

"Remember about a year ago? Dinner with an
invisible man? I'm him."

"You... you're real?"

"Define real," said Nobody, shrugging. "No,
don't bother. I'm real enough."

Katrina cautiously touched the hood. "What's
this thing you've pulled over my eyes?"

"It's... I don't know what it's called. But
it lets you see into my reality. Allows you to hear me," he said,
raising his leg and rubbing his shin where she'd kicked him. "And
you can touch me, too."

"You frightened me," she said.

"Sorry. I just wanted to talk."

"I don't know that I want to talk to you,"
Katrina said, picking up her chair. "You certainly have approached
me rudely."

"I guess," said Nobody. "But, I've been
wanting to talk to you for a long time. I was there the day you
tried to talk Paco into poisoning your husband. I've watched you
withdraw into yourself ever since then. I wanted to say something,
though I still don't know what I can say that might help."

"You've spied on me?" she said, taking her
seat once more.

"Occasionally. But I swear to God I don't
follow you into the bathroom or anything sick. Mostly I just see
you here in the library. You seem very... studious."

"How is it that you are invisible?" she
asked.

"Your husband's time machine—"

"Stop," she said, holding up her hand.

"Don't believe in the time machine?" asked
Richard.

"I have a daughter who flies," said Katrina.
"Another destroys cities with a wave of her hands. I can believe in
a time machine. But I don't want to."

"It wears you out, doesn't it," said
Nobody.

She stared him thoughtfully, then nodded.

"Wears me out too," said Nobody. "Why haven't
you ever left?"

"There is no place on Earth I could go. Were
I to leave, Niko would notice, and with but a thought, he would
find me and dispatch his emissaries to bring me home. I choose to
retain what few shreds of dignity I have left rather than find
myself carted home slung over Mindo's shoulders."

"But if you could leave, would you?"

She looked toward the floor, and sat silent
for a moment.

"I don't know," she whispered. "I don't know
if it's possible to run anywhere untouched by Niko. His handiwork
is evident throughout all the world."

"Have you ever talked to him about
leaving?"

She looked at him with her eyes wide, as if
shocked by the question. "What's the point of conversation with a
man who knows your every thought? The only time my thoughts are
safe is when I'm reading. Then the words in my head are not my own.
I'm beyond him then. My only hope now is that I'll outlive him.
He's ten years older than me and seems under great stress. Do you
think it horrible of me that I daydream about his funeral?"

"Not in the least," said Nobody. Then he
realized that Dr. Know was probably reading her thoughts right now.
He'd best cut this short before he said anything suspicious.
"Thanks for talking to me. If you don't mind, I'd like the hood
back."

She pulled it off, and looked where he stood,
her eyes straining. With a gasp, she dropped the hood, then stood
and walked from the room.

He took the hood and put it in his pocket
once more. "Yeah," he said, taking out his gun. "Yeah, this will be
easier than I imagined."

He walked out of the room. Somewhere in the
distance was a strange noise, like an elephant farting.

NOBODY FOUND DR
. Know in his command
center, facing him as he entered the door.

"Hello, Richard," said Dr. Know.

"Good-bye," said Nobody, raising the gun to
fire.

Dr. Know crossed the ten-yard gap between
them before Nobody even extended his arm. He kicked the gun away,
then delivered a tremendous punch to Nobody's groin. Nobody hit the
floor unable to breathe.

"How decidedly amateurish," said Dr. Know. "I
knew the second you snuck aboard my plane. Sensors detected the
gun. Then, when my wife's thoughts momentarily vanished, I was able
to listen in through microphones in the library. Since you’re in
possession of one of his thought-blocking hoods, I assume you've
been brainwashed by Rex Monday."

"No," said Nobody, reaching out and grabbing
at the doctor's legs. The doctor nimbly evaded him. "I pretty well
hated you before I ever spoke to Monday."