Separation (5 page)

Instantly, Harry’s hopes began to soar. Only
one other transgenic person in the world, as far as he knew, had
been there before. It couldn’t be anyone else. “Your friend’s
name... what is it?”

“He... I don’ know his name. He never say it
to me. But before I leave to come to this country, he say to me to
give his two companions, Harry and the beautiful Anastasia, a
message.”

Anastasia bent over to ask, “What’s the
message?”

“Piggy lives.”

“He’s alive?”

The warthog creature was temporarily
forgotten. Anastasia raised the question and broke into a smile.
Harry also the felt the same sense of elation his wife must have
been feeling, but decided to make sure. “You call him piggy. Who
told you that?”

“He say it to me,” the little mole-man
replied in a phlegmatic manner, as if this kind of thing happened
every day. “We meet in underground. That is where he stay for now.
That is place we all stay.” His gaze swung back and forth between
them. “You no believe me?”

First things first, get a name.
“What’s your name?”

“Leonardo. I no remember my last name.”

He’s another experiment. He has to be.
“Do you remember anything?”

Leonardo shook his head. “No, I no remember.
I,” he furiously rubbed his eyes with his paws as if trying to shut
out a nightmare, “I wake up in room with other people like me. The
man in charge—I never see his face, but I hear his voice—say to go
out and live in world. That is all.”

“He was Italian?” That came from
Anastasia.

Her question caused Leonardo to shake his
head in a violent motion. “No, he have accent... like you.”

American... things were getting
interesting... and strange. The Russians had pioneered this
particular field of transgenic research, so what was an
American—maybe—doing in on this?

Transgenics was nothing new. Harry’s father
had been a transgenic researcher, but he’d confined his research to
developing hardier fruits and vegetables. Harry had taken it a step
further by running simulations on human enhancements in an attempt
to find a way to stop cancer, the disease that had claimed his
father’s life. All of it had led to this point.

His mind whirled with the possibilities, but
he decided to think about it later. “So you woke up in a room in
Italy somewhere and this mystery guy told you to leave?” Harry
wasn’t sure if the mole understood the question, but he seemed to
get it.

“Si... I mean, yes, that is right. He say get
out to me and ten others. We leave at night. I know area—it is in
countryside I understand—so I know way to Rome. We go at night,
me... two others. They leave me second night, so I go alone. I
don’t know where they go to.”

He stopped and struck a pose that wouldn’t
have looked so out of place on a brave explorer, one paw over his
heart, the other on his hip. “Me, Leonardo, I go to Rome, and then
find another like me, someone who look like dog, and he take me
underground. There, I find place to stay, with others. They are
same people.”

The
waking up in a mysterious place and
amnesia
thing was what the Russian scientists had originally
done to Anastasia. They’d used a combination of drugs to blank her
memory, but no memory blocks were perfect. Eventually, she’d
regained total recall of her former life. Maybe this mole-guy
would, too.

As for the person with the American accent,
Harry didn’t have a clue. He needed more information, though. “So
when did all this happen?”

Leonardo scratched his head. “This was... two
weeks ago. Then I meet pig-man after first week there. They keep me
in room alone and say they have to make sure I am good person.”

Security—they’d need it against the mobs.
“Describe him.”

Leonardo proceeded to give every single
detail about Istvan, and everything matched right down to his
sleeping habits, even how he curled up. At the end of ten minutes,
he asked, “You believe my words?”

Anastasia tapped him on the shoulder and he
practically hit the ceiling. “Calm down. What else did he tell
you?”

Talk about being on edge!
“I’ll echo
what my wife said about calming down,” Harry added. “She’s trying
to help.”

“She is your wife?” Leonardo seemed impressed
as his eyes widened and he swung his head back and forth to regard
both of them. “You are lucky to find same person as you. I search
among my new friends.” A look of sadness crossed his face. “There
no one is like me.”

Look of sorrow or not, the facts had to be
gotten first, and Harry prompted, “So what else did the pig-guy
say?”

“Nothing... except he say go to America, find
Harry and Anastasia. I hide on board cargo ship. I come here...
land in port and leave ship.” He tapped his paw on the ground as if
to indicate what he was saying was on the real, “Now I am
here.”

It could be true, thought Harry as he crooked
his finger and pointed to the corner of the cabin. “Okay, hang on a
second. Take a seat while my wife and I talk this over.”

Leonardo seemed pleased. He sat on the couch,
wriggling around as if overjoyed to be sitting on anything but
stone or dirt. Harry motioned to the far corner of the room.
Anastasia followed him over. Eyes shining with possibility and
hope, she asked, “Do you think he’s telling the truth?”

“Yeah, I think so. He knows Istvan. The
name... it’s possible with all the hate groups out there he wants
to stay hidden, but how could Istvan have survived?”

“He always was very good at hiding. That’s
how he did it. He must have crept over the borders somehow and made
his way to Italy.”

It didn’t answer the question of their
adversary. Then again, it didn’t have to. Apparently, the warthog
creature had been sent by someone else to commit an act of mayhem.
Against who was another story, but the theory seemed logical
enough.

Putting aside his theory for the moment,
Harry decided to find out what this new visitor knew and gestured
to the couch. His wife took a seat beside the mole-guy and her
manner became warmer. “Do you know where Istvan is for sure?”

“Of course I know.” Leonardo’s attitude,
formerly shy, became somewhat more assertive, and a note of
indignation sounded in his voice. “I am Italian. I no remember my
last name, I no remember many things, but I remember I am Italian
and I know city well. Pig-man lives underground in catacombs, under
Vatican. That is safest place for us. The bad men, the assassins,
they come to kill us, but we hide and stay safe. I am good at
hiding, too.”

Apparently, it hadn’t occurred to him to hide
from the now-dead warthog, but in a gesture of defiance that Harry
found amusing, Leonardo thrust his pointy chin forward. “I not have
claws or strong body, but I am smart and I smell things—everything.
I smell you up here. I find you. That is my ability.”

It was a good ability, Harry had to admit.
“All right, sit tight while I contact someone.”

Leonardo suddenly got a look of suspicion on
his face. “Who you call?”

“FBI...”

Hearing those three letters caused the little
mole-man to make a mad dash for the door, screaming about
polizia
and tests and other words in Italian. Leonardo
wasn’t very fast or strong, and Harry easily caught up to him,
grabbed him around the shoulders and tossed him back to the couch,
where Anastasia put a powerful restraining hand on his shoulder and
said, “You’ll be okay. We trust the FBI.”

“Sort of,” muttered Harry as he walked over
to this computer and started to type out a message to the man in
charge.

Morning couldn’t come soon enough. Leonardo
had been in a state of agitation most of the night, sniffing the
ground and every corner of the cabin and running from place to
place. Even when the clock struck one and Harry desperately wanted
to grab some shuteye, he couldn’t take the risk their new
acquaintance wouldn’t try his luck in the great outdoors.

Additionally, Anastasia got sick. She ran in
twice during the night to use the bathroom, and the sounds of her
barfing made him think she was either heaving up a giant fur ball
or she’d caught a cold. The second time she exited the bathroom, he
stopped her advance. Leo had finally passed out, so no problem
there. “What’s going on? You catch a cold or something?”

Anastasia groomed her hair with a few nervous
swipes. “I must have eaten something bad,” she said. “I couldn’t
keep anything down.” She glanced at the sleeping mole-man. “Do you
want me to keep watch?”

“No, get some rest.”

She gave him a peck on the cheek. “Good
idea,” she murmured, and walked into the bedroom.

Now it was morning, and she sat at the table,
eating an entire roasted chicken, and washing it down with a diet
soda. She never seemed to gain weight, an enviable trait. Harry
tried not to yawn. Not sleeping didn’t help, but he had other
things to worry about than someone’s caloric intake.

“I remember bad men coming,” Leonardo was
saying as he ravaged a loaf of bread. “I no remember where I was
first, but I see them coming to take me when I sleep. I wake up,
they hit me, and then I look like this. I am rat now.”

“Actually, you’re more like a mole,” said
Anastasia as she finished stuffing her face and went over to guard
the door, her arms crossed over her chest. Her tone was not unkind.
“They turned me into something I’m not, and did worse to others.
I’m fine with what I am now, but we want to find out who did this
to you, and we need the help of the FBI.”

Leonardo stopped eating and asked Harry, “The
bad men, they make you, too?”

“Uh... no,” he replied. “My wife... some
other scientists transformed her. I chose to look like this.”

A look of confusion painted the mole-man’s
furry face. “I no understand. Why do you want to be cat?”

It wasn’t an easy question to answer on one
hand, but on the other hand, it was. Mortally wounded in a fight
against another transgenic, Harry had used a Genesis Chamber along
with a DNA cocktail and emerged in his current form. It was the
same DNA cocktail that had made Anastasia what she was. The
transformation had saved his life. You had to be grateful for some
things, and being alive counted for a lot. In fact, it counted for
everything.

The trade off, though, was society not being
in acceptance mode. He always told himself things would get
better... but the memory of that rotten scumbag of a talk show host
intruded.

“It’s complicated,” he started to say, but
decided to move the conversation in a different direction. “Look,
Leonardo, we have a chamber at FBI headquarters, and I need to run
some tests, but my plans are almost viable.”

At least, he hoped they were. He’d been
racking his brain ever since discovering his mistake. He was close,
very close, to solving the problem, but needed more time and time
didn’t seem to want to cooperate.

“What does viable mean?”

“It means I think that I can change you
back.”

A look of hope dawned on Leonardo’s face and
he put down the mostly eaten loaf. “You can do this?”

“He can,” Anastasia affirmed from her
position. She came over to pat him on the head. “Now finish your
breakfast. And don’t worry.”

The sound of a car horn alerted everyone to
the arrival of their ride. Leonardo jumped up, his nose twitching.
“We go now?”

“Wait,” Harry cautioned. “I have to talk to
our friend first.”

He went outside and over to the car where
Farrell was waiting. The morning air was cool and crisp, and the
first hint of sunlight had just begun to poke its way through the
cover of dawn. “We had company last night,” he announced. “Come
with me.”

He showed Farrell the corpse, already covered
with ants, and Farrell swatted them away, all the time maintaining
his stoic look. Finally, he heaved a sigh. “I knew the peace
couldn’t last. All right, we’ll keep this quiet and get a couple of
men to take the body away. As for the neighbors, the less they know
the better. The last thing we need is panic. Are you okay?”

“I had a couple of slashes. I heal fast.”
Glancing at his forearm, he saw the cuts had already faded. A
finger’s touch to his face told him the cuts there had also healed,
and he gave thanks to his upgraded body’s capacity to
regenerate.

Farrell’s gaze flicked from the body to the
cabin. “Let’s go see the other visitor.”

Inside, Anastasia had gotten dressed, wearing
a bright yellow and red skirt and blouse. She winked at Harry and
rubbed her stomach as if to say she was feeling better. “Morning,
Agent Farrell,” she offered as she went over to him.

Leonardo’s gaze followed her. “Bellisima,” he
whispered.

“Grazie,” she answered, and her intonation
sounded perfect.

Will wonders never cease?
His wife
spoke a little Italian. “Give me a second.”

He ran into the bedroom and changed into a
fresh set of jeans and t-shirt. When he came out, he found Farrell
staring at the new guy, sidearm in hand. “This is him?” he asked,
gesturing with the weapon.

Leonardo shied back and Anastasia scolded the
agent. “He’s harmless. Put your gun down.”

While Farrell sheathed his weapon, she turned
to Leonardo. “C’mon, we’ve got places to go.”

Reluctantly, it seemed, the mole-man followed
everyone to the car and meekly got into the back seat. He didn’t
speak until they pulled into the underground garage. “This place...
they help me here?”

“If you help us first,” Farrell said.

They shepherded him upstairs where Jason and
Maze met the group at Farrell’s office. While they quietly
conferred on the hows and whys of how to proceed, Leo stared out
the window at the modernity. “I have never been to America with the
big buildings. This is like something I no see before.” He
continued to gaze at the high-rises and other glass-and-steel
structures gleaming in the sun.