"Fragment" - читать интересную книгу автора (Fahy Warren)

12:43 P.M.

Returning from a quick swim at Stony Beach, Geoffrey pedaled his bike down Bigelow Street. When he turned onto Spencer Baird Road, he glanced over his shoulder. A man with a crewcut, a white polo shirt, and navy blue shorts was following him. The big man sat awkwardly on his bike, but he pedaled hard, gaining on Geoffrey.

He looked like the guy in the suit who had stood up and left at the end of his last Chat. Instinctively, Geoffrey pedaled faster.

The big man seemed to match Geoffrey’s speed, pedal for pedal, as both headed down Spencer Baird Road. Geoffrey took a hard turn down Albatross Street and swerved to avoid an SUV coming off the boat ramp. He flew past the Aquarium of the National Marine Fisheries and took a fast turn onto Water Street.

As he blew past Crane Monument the road narrowed and cars lined the curbs. He risked going down the center of the street, weaving around the clogged traffic and earning some honks. He heard more horns behind him and realized that his pursuer was heading down the middle of the street, too!

As he looked up the road, the light for the drawbridge turned red. It would be raised at any moment. Pedestrians and cyclists gathered as the harbormaster walked the yellow swinging gate closed on the Sound side of the street at the far end of the bridge.

He threaded his bike through the crowd and reached the bridge as the harbormaster began to swing the gate closed on the Eel Pond side. Geoffrey decided to go for it. He tore over the bridge and slipped around the shouting harbormaster as his bike shot through the narrow gap between the two gates-only to hear the big man, huffing and puffing, only a few feet behind him! Jeeze lou-fuckin’-weeze, Geoffrey thought, standing up on his pedals to pump them as hard as he could.

When he reached the WHOI building that contained his lab, he rode straight up to the entrance and jumped off his bike, letting it skid to rest at the foot of the steps.

He unsnapped the strap of his helmet and yanked it off, ready to swing it at his pursuer, who hit the hand brakes of his bike and stuck out a pale leg to stop his bike in a fishtailing slide.

“What the hell is your problem!” Geoffrey yelled, just as Angel Echevarria came out the door.

“Geoffrey, yo, what’s going on, man?” Angel asked, looking at the stranger, whose polo shirt was drenched with sweat. The man clutched his diaphragm as he struggled for breath.

“Ask this turkey. He’s been following me all the way from Stony Beach!”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Binswanger,” the man wheezed. “The President has requested…” He took a couple breaths. “Your presence…on a matter of…national security. May I…have a moment, sir?”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Geoffrey said, laughing.

“No shit?” Angel said, ready to believe it.

Geoffrey had been driven home in a blue SUV with tinted windows to pick up a hastily packed duffel bag. Then he was taken straight to Hanscom Air Force Base. There, a C-2A Greyhound stood waiting on the tarmac.

As he climbed aboard the cargo delivery plane, four crewmen motioned him to the back.

He set his bag on some crates as he made his way to the passenger section. There were only two window seats, which faced the tail next to small portholes behind the wings. The only other passenger occupied the portside seat to his right, a bearded man digging a hand into one of the seventeen pockets on his Banana Republic cargo vest. Geoffrey instantly recognized the man, who looked up and studied Geoffrey with expressionless eyes.

Geoffrey extended his hand. “Thatcher Redmond, right?”

“Yes…” Thatcher squinted in the shadowy cabin. “Dr. Binswanger, I believe?”

Geoffrey shook the older scientist’s hand and took his seat. “Call me Geoffrey.”

“They told me you were the other passenger we were waiting for. I’m afraid I haven’t heard of you before.”

Geoffrey knew Thatcher was lying. They had met at a conference six months ago, even shared a table at the banquet. They had both immediately caught the scent of their natural enemy in the scientific jungle, however, and marked it for future reference. This was going to be a long plane ride, Geoffrey thought. He forced a smile. “Pretty crazy, isn’t it?”

“I have to say I always believed it was a hoax.” Thatcher tossed a few peanuts in his mouth.

Geoffrey looked out the small window as the plane taxied down the airstrip. “I did, too.”