currently out of the office, and at my request, she switched me to his
voice mail.
After reciting the license number of the Suburban, which I had
memorized, I said, “That’s what Jimmy Wing’s kidnapper was driving.
If you care, give me a call after noon.” Sasha and I were turning back
the covers on the bed in my room when the doorbell rang. Sasha pulled on
a robe and went to see who had come calling.
I slipped into a robe, too, and padded barefoot to the head of the
stairs to listen.
I took the 9-millimeter Glock with me. Moonlight Bay wasn’t as full of
mayhem as Jurassic Park, but I wouldn’t have been entirely surprised if
the doorbell had been rung by a velociraptor.
Instead, it was Bobby, six hours early. When I heard his voice, I went
downstairs.
The foyer was dimly lighted, but above the Stickley-style table, the
print of Maxfield Parrish’s Daybreak glowed as though it were a window
on a magical and better world.
Bobby looked grim. “I won’t take long. But you have to know about this.
After I took Jenna Wing to Lilly’s, I swung by Charlie Dai’s house.”
Charlie Daiwhose birth name in correct Vietnamese order was Dai Tran Gi,
before he Americanized itis the associate editor and senior reporter at
the Moonlight Bay Gazette, the newspaper owned by Bobby’s parents. The
Halloways are estranged from Bobby, but Charlie remains his friend.
“Charlie can’t write about Lilly’s boy, ” Bobby continued, “at least not
until he gets clearance, but I thought he ought to know. In fact … I
figured he might already know.” Charlie is among the handful in
Moonlight Bay a few hundred out of twelve thousand who know that a
biological catastrophe occurred at Wyvern. His wife, Dr. Nora
Daiformerly Dai Minh Thuha is now a retired colonel, while in the army
medical corps, she commanded all medical services at Fort Wyvern for six
years, a position of great responsibility on a base with more than fifty
thousand population. Her medical team had treated the wounded and the
dying on the night when some researchers in the genetics lab, having
reached a crisis in the secret process of becoming, surprised their
associates by savagely assaulting them. Nora Dai knew too much, and
within hours of those strange events, she and Charlie were confronted
with accusations that their immigration documents, filed twenty-six
years ago, were forged. This was a lie, but unless they assisted in
suppressing the truth of the Wyvern disaster and its aftermath, they
would be deported without notice, and without standard legal procedures,
to Vietnam, from which they would never be able to return. Threats were
also made against the lives of their children and grandchildren, because
those who have orchestrated this cover-up do not believe in half
measures.
Bobby and I don’t know why his parents have allowed the Gazette to be
corrupted, publishing a carefully managed version of the local news.
Perhaps they believe in the rightness of the secrecy. Perhaps they don’t
understand the true horror of what’s happened. Or maybe they’re just
scared.
“Charlie’s been muffled, ” Bobby said, “but he’s still got ink in his
veins, you know, he still hears things, gathers news whether he’s
allowed to write all of it up or not.”
“He’s as stoked Oh the page as you are on the board, ” I said.
“He’s a total news rat, ” Bobby agreed.
He was standing near one of the sidelights that flank the front door,
rectangular geometric stained-glass windows with red, amber, green, and
clear elements. No blinds cover these panes, because the deep overhang
of the porch and the giant oaks prevent direct sunlight from reaching
them. Bobby glanced through one of the clearer pieces of glass in the
mosaic, as if he expected to see an unwelcome visitor on the front
porch.
“Anyway, ” he continued, “I figured if Charlie had heard about Jimmy, he
might know something we don’t, might’ve picked up something from Manuel
or someone, somewhere. But I wasn’t ready for what the dude told me.
Jimmy was one of three last night.” My stomach clenched with dread.
“Three children kidnapped? ” Sasha asked.