“Very insightful, Eugene, but I don’t think chickens possess that kind of foresight,” Albane quipped.
AJ looked at Albane and mouthed “EUGENE?” silently, with a schoolboy grin across his face.
She smiled impishly.
“Anyway, as I was saying,” Kalen continued, “I realized that the only thing that motivates a chicken is chicken food. So, I laid a trail of kernels along the ground leading to a pile of feed under an old milk bottle crate that I propped up on one side with a stick. I tied a ten-foot length of string to the stick and hid around the corner. Then I waited. The hen pecked its way along the ground, following the feed trail all the way into the crate and then, WHAM, I pulled the stick out. That was that. Captive chicken, game over. The point I’m trying to make here is, I’m tired of chasing chickens.”
“Interesting analogy,” said Albane. “What sort of trap are you suggesting for Foster?”
“That’s for you guys to figure out. You’re the brains of this operation; I’m the biceps,” Kalen said, propping his feet up on an ottoman and clasping his hands behind his neck. “I know chickens want chicken feed, but I have no idea what Foster wants.”
Albane closed her eyes. “If a man is drowning?” she said to the ether.
“Then throw him a rope,” AJ answered.
“Exactly,” she said with a smile. “We’re going to offer Foster the one thing that nobody has offered him yet.”
“Which is?” asked VanCleave.
“A way out.”
“Why would Foster deal with us? He doesn’t know us. He’ll presume it’s a trap,” VanCleave argued.
“Yes, but why does a rabbit leave the safety of its burrow even when it knows the fox is nearby? Because sometimes it has to. Because the allure of a carrot can overwhelm the fear of the fox.” She grabbed a piece of paper, jotted four short sentences down, and handed it to VanCleave.
“That’s what we’re going to tell Foster?”
“Yes,” she replied.
Kalen swiped the paper from VanCleave’s hand and read it. “This could be more fun than Chiarek Norse,” he beamed.
“Time to play SMS poker,” she said. “VanCleave, do we have Julie Ponte’s mobile number?”
“Of course.”
“Can you please text her that message?”
Kalen handed the paper back to VanCleave, who then composed the text message on his phone. After double-checking his work, he pressed the SEND button, and transmitted Albane’s carefully crafted words to Julie Ponte’s mobile.
To Will Foster:
We know about Vyrogen,
We’re here to help.
We can get you home and clear your name.
Special Agent Nelson — FBI
“It’s done,” he reported to the group. “Now what?” With eyes narrowed, Albane replied. “Now, we wait.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
“What now? We can’t go back to your apartment.” Will said to Julie as they walked down the stone steps outside Johansen’s office.
“We need to keep moving, but I’m so exhausted I can’t think clearly. We need to go somewhere where we can rest,” Julie said, taking hold of Will’s hand. “Just for a little while.”
“What did you have in mind? A hotel won’t work. Too many security cameras, and don’t they require ID to check into hotels in Europe?”
She gave his hand a squeeze. “I have another idea. I know somewhere private, safe, and off the grid.”
He squeezed her hand back and said, “Okay. Lead the way.”
Will surveyed the small modest bedroom with a measure of skepticism. Sunlight filtered through the room’s only window onto a white and blue flowered duvet, covering a double bed. A simple five-drawer dresser, stained the color of honey, occupied the wall to his right. To his left, a door fitted with an ivory and brass antique knob was partially open, revealing a tidy bathroom. It was tiled entirely in white, with accenting blue tiles interspersed in a diamond pattern on the floor and shower walls. He set Julie’s backpack on the hardwood floor, and then took a seat at the foot of the bed.
“How do you know this place?” he asked. “Are you sure we can trust that woman?”
Julie chuckled. “Auntie Heigel? Of course we can trust her. I’ve known her for years, since I came to Vienna.”
“Auntie Heigel, huh? Is she really your aunt?”
She lowered an eyebrow at him playfully. “No, that’s just her nickname. One day she started referring to herself as my Tantchen Heigel. So, I honor the convention. She’ll always be my auntie.”
“How did you meet her?”
“I rented this room when I first moved to Vienna. I stayed here for eight months; it took me a while to find an apartment I liked that I could afford. She’s a good, honest woman. Mother of two. A recent widower. She’s been like a second mom to me.”
He nodded.
“Relax, Will, we’re safe here. Vyrogen can look up my apartment address, but nobody knows about this place.”
“If you say so.”
She walked over and sat down next to him on the bed, her thigh pressed against his. She looked at him, but said nothing.
“Vyrogen is never going to stop hunting me,” he said, his voice solemn.
She nodded.
“I don’t want to be on the run forever. I don’t want to live like a fugitive.”
“I know.”
“I wish I didn’t have the immunity mutation. I wish I could go back to the way things were before. Living in ignorance… blissful ignorance.”
She put her head on his shoulder. “We can’t control the cards we’re dealt. All we can do is find the courage to play the hand we’ve been given. Most people wouldn’t have had the cunning and courage to escape from Chiarek Norse. Most people would have folded their cards and quit the game. You didn’t do that, Will, because you’re a fighter. You are still fighting… right?”
He nodded.
They sat together in silence for a long while before he spoke.
“Johansen said if he was the one whose DNA was encoded with a skeleton key mutation, then he would publish his genome for all the world to see.”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“He’s looking at the situation like open source software — applying the same principle to my DNA.”
“Give your genetic code away for free and see what people can build with it. Like Wikipedia,” she said.
“It would save millions of lives.”
“Yes, you would,” she said and laid her hand on his thigh.
“Morally, it’s the right decision.”
“I agree.”
“Once everyone has access to my genetic code, Vyrogen will have lost their competitive advantage,” he said, with hope in his voice.
“That sounds logical,” she said. “But going public exposes you. And, if Johansen beats Vyrogen to the punch and kills their patent efforts, it might incite them to seek retribution. Are prepared to face those consequences?”
“Yes.”
She gazed at him.
“What?” A wave of lustful, nervous expectation rippled through his body.
“I’m proud of you.”
He blushed. “It’s what anybody would do.”
“No, it’s not. Your journey has led you to a crossroads today. On the left is the path of self-preservation: keep running, keep hiding, forever looking out for yourself above all else. On the right is the path of self-sacrifice: exposing yourself, giving away your genome, standing in defiance of your enemy. You’ve chosen the harder path, the noble path. That takes courage.”
“I couldn’t have made it this far without you. I was trapped in a deep dark hole, and when I called for help, you came and pulled me out. You’re my angel.”