Blood of Gemini Page 2

  “No, wisecracker. Two words: Winslow. Clark.”

  She nodded, letting out a low whistle as she plopped onto a kitchen stool. “I take it Mort couldn’t help, then?”

  “He said he wanted to look into a few things. In the meantime, I’m biding my time…festering. Clark could be anywhere right now, meaning he could strike at any moment. And we both know what he’s capable of.”

  Leah pressed her eyes shut and shuddered, recalling the time she’d spent as Clark’s captive—a ploy to elicit my attention and my compliance—though in the end his intention had been to kill us both.

  “Hey—” I started to comfort my friend but she quickly waved me off.

  “Let’s not do this again, AJ.” After everything that had gone down the past year—including the number of times we’d gotten ourselves into trouble or nearly killed—she was ready for the dramafest to stop. Period.

  I couldn’t disagree. It would be refreshing to go back to our normal lives, the ones that had been regularly scheduled and already in progress. Not that those lives had always been filled with puppies or an endless supply of gummy bears and margaritas but they’d been our lives.

  A look passed between us—we both knew good and well—even if Clark was no longer a threat and there was no danger on the horizon, our lives would never be normal again. Somehow, I was okay with that, and given the calmness that washed over my usually impish, energetic friend, I knew, she too, had made peace with it. Her comment had not been one of pleading or evolved from a place of fear—it was a resolution.

  We would not grant Clark another free pass.

  Mort called shortly before 9 a.m. the following morning, as I was collecting my camera equipment for my first client and almost immediately, I noticed his tone was unusually curt.

  “I was able to gather some information but I’d rather not discuss it over the phone. Can you meet?”

  “Okay...I have a photo shoot at the Desert Botanical Garden that will take the bulk of the morning but I can drop by your house after—”

  “No, no...” Mort interjected, his voice sharp and impatient, borderline hostile, “that won’t work. The Andean bear exhibit at the Phoenix Zoo—do you know it?”

  I was surprised by his choice of location, which was just a quick shot up Galvin Parkway from the botanical garden.

  “Yes, I know where that particular exhibit is located but—”

  “Be there. 1 p.m.”

  I stared at my phone and had it not been for our previous interactions, would have called him out for his rude behavior. Now, he just had me worried.

  “Alright... Is everything okay, Mort? I mean—”

  “Not now, Arianna.” The way he enunciated every word made it sound like he did so through gritted teeth. “Just be there at 1 p.m. And make sure you come alone.”

  The connection ended, leaving me confused and more than a little concerned for the retired newspaperman. The rumbling in my belly wasn’t helping matters, though it could have just been the peanut M&Ms I’d had for breakfast, colliding like balls on a pool table.

  Typically a warm, gentle man, Mort had been uncommonly harsh and commanding. Whatever he’d learned, it couldn’t have been good. I called Leah, knowing she would be disappointed about his insistence I come alone, which also prevented Nicoh from accompanying me—definitely a curious curiosity.

  “And here I thought old Mort liked me best.” I pictured Leah pulling on the ends of her hair as the corners of her mouth turned down.

  “Um, no...sorry. I think he actually likes Nicoh best.”

  My attempt at lightening the mood fell flat on its big fat face as Leah snorted into my ear. “Whatever, AJ, it certainly doesn’t seem to be the case anymore, considering he’s left his favorite out of the fun.”

  “Yeah, what do you make of that?”

  “Who knows. You said he sounded irritable. Maybe he had to call in a few favors to get your information? I know I’d be pretty crabby if I had to call in another one for you,” she grumbled. “In fact, if I had to count the number of unsavory things I’ve had to do to get your skinny hiney—”

  “Is that right?” I was incensed she was taking Mort’s request out on me by bringing up old dirt. “Well, I think we’ll all benefit from finding out where Clark is, don’t you?” Her silence told me she’d conceded the point—a rare occurrence. “So, if I’m going to tackle this meeting without the benefit of your expertise—how do you suggest I proceed?”

  “Well...” she spoke slowly as her mind switched into reporter-mode, “if Mort wants to meet with you away from his home, alone, it means he’s worried. Perhaps he believes he’s given whomever he contacted reason to keep tabs on him, which would explain the need to meet at a public location.”

  “Okay, so he’s being cautious.”

  “Or completely paranoid.”

  “Maybe…I think we need to operate under the assumption he has good reason to be concerned and take it at face value.”

  “Um…hello? What did you do with my best friend? Geez, AJ, when did you become such a cynic?”

  “When Winslow Clark decided to claw his way out of Hell and set up shop in my backyard, that’s when.” As she scoffed in my ear, I added, “So that’s all the sage advice you’ve got stored in your bag of tricks?”

  “As if,” she huffed, “just try to get him to tell you as many details as you can—who gave him the info, what and how they said it, how they know it, blah, blah, blah. And as a final tip—record it all. Whatever it is, my gut’s telling me something hinky is about to go down.”

  Hinky or not, I didn’t need Leah’s gastric intuitions to tell me the crazy train was on a collision course with yours truly.

  I was glad to have my work to keep me occupied for the next several hours. I certainly couldn’t afford to have my impending meeting with Mort distract me from my professional duties, or the payday it promised. I was fortunate to have had early success with my freelance photography business, which by no coincidence I’d named Mischievous Malamute—a result of a few awkward predicaments Nicoh had put me in at the beginning of my career. In hindsight, perhaps I should have reconsidered allowing him to accompany me to my shoots but after a few near-misses, snafus and a great many apologies, I’d continued to tote him with me from location to location. Or maybe it was vice-versa.

  Needless to say, Nicoh was less than thrilled about being left behind and verbalized as much as I hauled my equipment from the house to the Mini. Of course, the howling and moaning increased two-fold as I backed out of the driveway. I cringed, thinking of the poor neighbors, who were likely hustling to their fallout shelters. One of these days, I’d probably receive a lovely note on my front door, compliments of the city, informing me of the various code violations I was infringing upon. Violating the strict noise ordinance and harboring wild animals without a permit would likely be the starters. Yup, Nicoh was gonna make me pay. Today, he’d probably howl until he was no longer able to hear the rumble of my tiny engine before heading into the backyard to leave a special treat for my homecoming.

  On a brighter note, my client was an absolute peach and things ran smoothly throughout the shoot, leaving me with time to spare. I grabbed a caffeinated beverage and reorganized my tote so that my cell phone would be in a prime recording position, as Leah had instructed. It would probably turn out to be overkill but considering we’d both gotten those gut feelings, a girl couldn’t be too careful.

  I gave the application a quick test to ensure the quality was good and that it wouldn’t fall to the bottom of the bag when jostled. Sure, I could have just as easily put the darn thing in my back pocket but after a recent butt-dialing incident at my friend Charlie’s penthouse, I was hesitant to place the phone on my person. There was no sense validating my cellularly challenged reputation. I grimaced at the recollection but as I paid the zoo’s admission and proceeded to the Andean bear exhibit, my discomfort quickly evaporated as I recounted the childhood moments spent at this exhibit, hoping to catch
a glimpse of the spectacled bears—aptly nicknamed for their unique facial markings.

  As I reached the enclosure Mort had indicated, I wondered why—of all the exhibits the zoo had to offer—he had selected this exhibit? My stomach formed a volleyball-sized knot, sending signals to the rest of my body, along with an unnerving tingling sensation in the remainder of my extremities. I cursed, wishing I’d not encouraged the barista to be so liberal with the extra shots of espresso. I blew out a long breath and proceeded.

  Mort’s back was to me as I approached. The ground crunched under the weight of my shoes, causing him to turn. I squinted, taking in the man’s features. My mind flashed to a photograph I’d seen while searching for clues related to my sister’s murder. He had aged a few decades, given the crinkles at the corners of his dark eyes and slight loosening of skin across his angular jawline but he was a mirror image of one of the men in that photo—still retaining his ruggedly handsome looks and mop of hair, now laced with silver.

  A man who was most definitely…not Mort Daniels.

  “Hello, Arianna. My name is—”

  “Martin.”

  Surprised by my acknowledgment, he rubbed his hands together, contemplating how to proceed now the cat was out of the bag. A long moment passed before he raised his head and looked me straight in the eye.

  “Yes, Arianna. My name is Martin Singer. I am your father.”

  Chapter Four

  Once I had absorbed the initial shock that Martin Singer was even alive, the hair on the back of my neck bristled at his brazen announcement.

  “My biological father,” I clarified. If the distinction bothered him, he gave no indication. “Yes, I’ve known about our…connection for a few months now, since the death of my twin sister—your other daughter—surely you heard about her murder?”

  Martin bowed his head and said nothing but kept his eyes focused on me. I had the benefit of sunglasses and utilized them to their full advantage to observe him as well. The family resemblance was uncanny, especially around the mouth and nose and the way his eyebrows rose and fell when surprised.

  “You look so much like her,” he whispered. I nodded, knowing he was referencing Alison Anders, the woman who had given me life; then died a few short hours later. “I assume Ella favored her, too?”

  I nodded at his reference to the name Victoria had been given at birth. “From the pictures I’ve seen of her, yes, very much so.” Martin tilted his head and squinted in confusion—another gesture we had in common. My voice came out raspy, “I never knew Victoria, Ella, when she was alive. I only became aware of her existence after she was murdered.” I blew out a breath. “I was the one who found her.” Martin’s eyes widened at the revelation and when he started to respond, I waved off his sympathy.

  “Why are you here, Martin?”

  The empathy surrounding him rippled and faded at the harshness of my voice and he realized now was not the time for a family reunion. Though his eyes never left mine, he was silent for so long, I was compelled to fill the uncomfortable void.

  “How do you know Mort Daniels? More importantly, why did he contact you, much less know how to contact you?” Martin smiled but this time, there was no warmth behind it and something clicked. “You were Mort’s contact when he worked at the Chicago Tribune, back when he was doing research on Alcore and GenTech. You were his inside track.” His expression revealed nothing but the shift in the energy surrounding us suggested I had nicked something. “Has he known you were alive this whole time? I personally would like to know how that transpired, by the way, in addition to finding out where you’ve been the past twenty-odd years? Winslow Clark said his dad pushed you off the Skyway Bridge in an attempt to make it look like suicide. And yet, decades later…here you are. Why? Why now?” As the questions poured out, my skin grew hot as my heartbeat doubled. I attempted another barrage but Martin put his hands up in surrender and chuckled in amusement.

  “So much like Alison—so inquisitive, so darned smart…” his voice trailed off as he appeared to revel in some long lost memory. Finally, he shook his head, as though pushing away cobwebs. “But no, I wasn’t Daniels’ ‘inside track’ nor am I aware who that person is, or was.” I wasn’t buying his answer but waved my hand, urging him to continue. “Daniels made contact through a mutual acquaintance. I was notified once the urgency of your phone call had been assessed. He doesn’t know I’m alive or that I was the person sent to meet you. He only knew you would be meeting with a resource that could assist you with your current…situation.”

  I thought about my conversation with Mort—how uncommonly abrupt he’d been—and wondered why he’d felt obligated to set me up for this meeting with an unknown and possibly dangerous stranger.

  As though he’d been reading my mind, Martin nodded. “Our acquaintance is very well connected. I assure you, we mean you no harm. My deepest apologies for causing you distress but Mort had sworn to not reveal his source and was also assured your safety would be our primary concern.” His explanation seemed dubious but I let it slide. “As for Winslow Clark, the story he told you was true. His father, Theodore Winslow, plotted my demise and lured me to the bridge but his execution—no pun intended—was severely lacking. He didn’t stick around to verify the results. Thankfully, he was as sloppy with attempted murder as he was in his work, otherwise I wouldn’t be standing here today. But that, my dear Arianna, is a story for another day. Today…today we must focus on the matter at hand: Winslow Clark. That answers the ‘why’ portion of your query. As for the ‘why now’? Because it’s time to destroy the monster I’ve created. Permanently.”

  I clucked my tongue at his confidence.

  “I know you have many questions, Arianna. I have many of my own. Too many,” his voice wavered and l caught a hint of moisture glistening in his eyes. Fortunately my emotions were masked behind sunglasses. “I do hope someday soon you will oblige me but today we do not have the benefit of time on our side. Winslow Clark is here, preparing to strike. For the time being, he must be the primary focus of our attentions. Having said that, I have a favor to ask.” I nodded for him to proceed. “The only way I can ensure your safety and the safety of the ones you love is if you agree to leave town.”

  Oh, heck no. I told Martin as much and after unleashing the sailor on him, I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if he’d whipped a bar of soap from his pocket. Instead, he offered a bemused expression. Exasperated, I released another round of expletives before slamming my fists onto my hips while tapping my foot.

  This time, my efforts were rewarded with a small chuckle. “Forgive me, the similarities to your mother—to Alison—continue to amaze me.”

  “If I’m half as stubborn as you say she was, then you should know I have no intention of leaving town—leaving my loved ones behind—while I’m off taking a vaca, waiting for the freak show of a monsoon known as El Clark to pass through town. My town. Ain’t gonna happen, Pops.”

  This time, Martin winced and I immediately felt a flush of regret for my callousness before remembering the man had conveniently elected to go missing for the majority of my life. When he said nothing, I added, “Besides, that would kind of defeat the purpose. I mean, Clark came to Phoenix to eliminate me. What purpose would leaving serve anyone?” I shrugged and waved my hands to emphasize the point. Apparently Martin was not one for dramatic flourishes and looked bored, if not a bit impatient. “He’d come looking for me, regardless of where I went, so there’s no sense having him tear up the whole country in the process. Let’s face it, he’s not going to back down or crawl back into whatever hole he clawed his miserable way out of—not empty-handed, anyway.”

  “He will if he’s offered something better.”

  I had to refrain from bursting out in laughter. “Something better? Like what? A front row seat on the maiden voyage of Richard Branson’s Virgin Galactic spacecraft?” This time I laughed but there was no humor in it and given the look on Martin’s face, he clearly didn’t appreciate my br
and of sarcasm. “I seriously doubt Clark’s willing to hang out with the gila monsters and javelinas here in the desert for that long.”

  Martin shook his head, still not amused. I wondered if Alison had bristled his fur to such an extent. Given the way I was feeling about the man at the present, I hoped her talents in that arena superseded mine. He squinted, regarding me and when he finally spoke, his expression was flat.

  “He won’t have to wait. He’ll have me.”

  Score one for Martin—that certainly earned my attention.

  “You? No offense, Martin but how do you interpret that as ‘something better’? To my knowledge, Clark doesn’t even know you’re alive, much less would believe you were who you claim to be.”

  Though neither of us was feeling jovial, Martin offered a cryptic smile. “Oh, I believe I can make a pretty convincing argument.”

  Knowing Clark as I did, I snorted at Martin’s bravado. “Okay...say he’s got his DNA decoder ring handy and it confirms you’re...you...why would he be satisfied with that exchange? And what’s to say he won’t take us both out anyway?”

  “Because I have something he wants, Arianna. And when I present it to him, in all its glory, he’ll want it so badly he’ll do anything to finally have it in his possession.”

  “Err...not sure if you’re familiar with Clark but unless you’ve got an in with Versace and Ferrari...with maybe a little Charlie Manson thrown in, I doubt he’ll bite.”

  “Oh, I suspect he’ll do a lot more than bite when he learns what I have to offer,” Martin gave me a knowing look, “especially since it involves Gemini.”

  Martin could only be referring to one thing: the formulas to the human cloning project both Clark and his father had not only coveted, but killed for. Putting those babies in either of their hands, along with the scientist who’d created them was a dangerous, if not monstrous business.