“Thanks,” Sarah said as Camilla pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Don’t thank me.”
“So what happens when this is all done?” Sarah wondered out loud. “I’ve dedicated my life to my work. The past eighteen years have all been about getting to this point. And then what? I’ve never really thought beyond this. What will I do next? It will be like a huge void in my life and I’m not sure what comes next to fill it.”
Camilla laughed. “Are you kidding me? What’s next is you go on vacation.”
“Vacation?” Sarah said as she stared off into the distance. “I can’t imagine it.”
“I can,” Camilla replied. “But there’s going to be plenty of time to think about what’s next, Sarah. Once Gen96 is out, you’re going to have nothing but time. When was your last vacation?”
Sarah shook her head. She had absolutely no idea, perhaps never.
“There’s nothing wrong with focusing on you for a while,” Camilla said. “You, of all people, deserve it.”
Sarah smiled at Camilla as she stood to leave. “Get some rest, we’ve got an important couple of days ahead of us,” Camilla said as she left the room and shut the door.
Sarah didn’t bother to undress. She just lay back on the bed fully clothed and closed her eyes. As she drifted off to sleep she dreamed and in her dreams she saw the future that she had created for mankind – a secure, less-troubled world where millions of kids weren’t dying of malnutrition and disease each year and the earth wasn’t being raped to support an ever-expanding population. It had taken God seven days to create the earth and set it in motion and it had taken Sarah eighteen years to course-correct it.
If there were truly a God, she was surprised that He hadn’t foreseen the problems of making human beings so smart that they could become too viable, too dominant.
DAY 5 – THURSDAY, JULY 2
3:10 am PDT Malibu California
Chris had managed to get the last American flight from Boston to LAX and now he drove up the hillside road, looking for Camilla Haywood’s address. There. The number was carved into a raised panel high on a stucco wall that supported a large iron gate.
“Excellent,” he muttered. Now that he knew exactly where to go, he drove back down to a beach parking lot that he had passed minutes earlier. In the morning he would go back to the house and see if he could find a way to speak to her. Right now he needed to catch some sleep. He shut off the rental car, lay down on the seat, and fell asleep.
When he awoke, the car wasn’t particularly hot but his clothes stuck to his body. It was just after 9 a.m. as he climbed out of the car, stretched and rummaged through his bag to find some fresh clothes. Very few people were on the beach as he walked down to the water. He stripped down to his underwear and dove into the Pacific for the first time in his life. It was just like the Atlantic. That realization was disappointing – he had always expected the Pacific to be something different, something better.
After a quick stop at a convenience store to buy a prepaid cell phone, Chris drove straight to Camilla’s. Ten minutes later his car idled at the ornate gate that solidly blocked access to her home. His window was down and he took a few deep breaths before leaning out the window and pressing the button. Silence. After a minute he pressed it again. This time holding it down for fifteen seconds. Again, nothing.
For the first time, he realized that this trip to California might be pointless. Pell had been on the verge of delirium and had probably given him bogus information. Even if this was her home, who was to say she, or anyone, was home. She probably had houses all over.
He put the car in reverse and started to back out to the street when a voice crackled over the intercom. “Can I help you?”
Chris got out of the car and walked back to the security box. “Hello?”
“I said, can I help you?”
“Is Camilla Haywood here?”
“And you are?”
“Chris Foster.”
“Is Ms. Haywood expecting you?”
He shook his head, and before he could speak the word ‘no’, the voice continued. He was being watched on closed-circuit camera. He scanned for the camera and found it mounted on the side of a palm tree about thirty feet away.
“Does she even know you?”
“Well, not exactly—”
“I’m sorry sir, but Ms. Haywood is out of town on business, and even if she were here, she doesn’t see unexpected visitors – for obvious reasons.”
Chris stared at the little speaker, and blurted out, “I’m with the FBI. I’m looking for an old college friend of Camilla’s. It’s a matter of the utmost urgency. I know that Ms. Haywood probably gets all kinds of fruit-cakes walking up here and I appreciate that you can’t be too careful, but it’s imperative that I talk to her today.”
“Do you have any identification?”
“Yes,” he replied as he reached for Pell’s ID which he had taken from him back at his house. As he flipped the leather case open confidently and held it up to the camera, he hoped it didn’t have a good telephoto lens because if it did, his little ruse would be over.
“I’m out of the Bangor, Maine branch,” he continued, assuming Pell’s identity. As he did, he wondered how Pell was doing. He’d have to make a call to the hospital to see if he could get any information.
Silence ensued, long enough for him to get nervous, and then the voice said, “Who are you looking for again?”
“Actually, I didn’t say who I was looking for. Who are you?”
“Albert James Winslow,” the intercom man replied.
“Albert James Winslow,” he repeated. “Listen to me, Mr. Winslow. I don’t have the time to play games. I need to know where Camilla Haywood is. I just spent the entire night traveling from Boston to talk to her. If she isn’t here, I need to know where she is. Now. Let me in so we can talk.”
After a moment, an electric motor hummed behind the wall and the gates swung open.
“I’ll meet you at the top of the driveway,” the voice said as the speaker went dead.
He turned around, hopped into his car, and raced to the top of the winding driveway where he found Albert standing next to a shiny new full-sized Suburban. All of the doors were open, and it was fully loaded with suitcases and bags.
He walked over to Albert extending his hand as he admired the beautiful grounds and spectacular view.
“Quite a house,” Chris said.
“It is.”
Chris turned to the Suburban and said, “Going someplace?”
“I’m moving some stuff back to the house in Beverly Hills,” he replied. “I’m actually in a rush today, sir. I’m happy to help you, but let’s make it quick.”
“Okay, Albert. Firstly, may I ask what your relationship to Ms. Haywood is?”
“I’m Ms. Haywood’s personal assistant,” Albert replied.
“Excellent. Then this is the deal. I need to talk to Ms. Haywood in relation to an important case that the Bureau is working. It’s imperative that we find an old Harvard buddy of hers, Sarah Burns, and we’re chasing down every possible lead. This is a matter of national urgency.”
Albert’s brown eyes flickered slightly. Recognition? He couldn’t be sure. The name definitely rang some sort of a bell with this guy, but as quickly as it had been there, the look was gone.
“I’ve never heard of her,” Albert replied. “But I’ll be happy to ask Ms. Haywood about her when I see her tonight.”
“Is there any way we can get in touch with her right now?”
Albert shook his head. “No.”