56
THE WILLOWS
WEDNESDAY LATE AFTERNOON
Sherlock and Connie were standing by Sherlock’s Volvo when her cell rang. Sherlock held up a finger and listened to Dillon. When she punched off, she pumped her fist. “That’s it! We’ve got him!” She told Connie everything Dillon had found out from Dr. Zyon, and about Alex Moody’s kidnappers burning the Annex and the van they abandoned.
“Dillon believes Maddox held John Doe against his will in the Annex, used him as a test subject, and today he ordered the two kidnappers to burn the Annex and destroy what evidence he could. Luckily, all the research equipment and drugs they removed were in the van when they ran from Dillon. He’s on his way here now.”
The two agents stared at each other. Sherlock said, “We could wait, Connie, as Dillon suggested, but Alex Moody could be in that house. If Maddox finds out what’s happened, who knows what he’d do? Alex could be in imminent danger.”
Connie nodded, pulled her Glock, racked the slide. They raced back to the house.
Sherlock pounded on the door. “FBI! Open up. Now!”
They heard the security guard, Cargill, call out, “No, Dr. Maddox instructed me not to admit you. Call the Gen-Core Technologies lawyers, get an appointment!”
Sherlock was nearly ready to put her fist through the door.
“Things have changed, Cargill. We have a legal right to enter. An FBI backup team is on its way. We don’t want to enter forcibly, but we will, if we have to. Open the door!”
Sherlock heard Lister Maddox’s voice, and then the door opened. Cargill stood there, tense, white-faced, his hand near the gun on his belt.
Connie got in his face, “Stand down, Cargill, take out your weapon and put it on the floor, then step back.”
Cargill looked back at Dr. Lister Maddox, standing on the bottom stair of the lavish staircase, one hand clutching the railing, the other his worry beads. He shouted, “Why did you come back? This is an outrage! There’s nothing for you here!”
Sherlock aimed her Glock at Maddox. “We’ll discuss that in a moment, Dr. Maddox, but first tell Cargill to take out his weapon and put it on the floor.”
“Very well, there’s no need for you to have your gun aimed at me or him. We’re not criminals. Cargill, do as she said.”
Cargill pulled a Beretta off his belt clip, leaned down, and placed it carefully on the entrance hall tile.
Connie picked up the Beretta, put it in her jacket pocket.
Sherlock said, “Dr. Maddox, you need to tell us now—is there anyone else in the house?”
“Well, of course. My father and his nurse, Hannah Fox, are upstairs in his bedroom. There may be a housekeeper or two. I’m not sure if they’ve left for the day.”
Sherlock said, “You said earlier that Hannah Fox and Sylvie Vaughn were out on your boat.”
Lister shrugged. “I didn’t want you bothering them.”
Connie said, “Cargill, are there any other security guards in the house or on the grounds?”
“No, ma’am, Agent.”
Sherlock slipped her Glock back into its belt clip. She walked to where Dr. Maddox stood unmoving, except for his worry beads. “We have news, Dr. Maddox. The man and woman you hired to kidnap Alex Moody from the hospital were stopped in a white van, fleeing a building called the Annex after they set fire to it.” He didn’t need to know they weren’t in custody yet, they would be soon enough. “The FBI found some interesting medical equipment and a freezer that fell out of the back of the van. I’m sure you know exactly what was in that van, Dr. Maddox, given what an agent who interviewed Dr. Zyon at Badecker-Ziotec was told about the research you ordered them to do three years ago on compounds that affect aging. Dr. Maddox, we’re expecting a warrant any minute. We believe there are more people in the house, in particular, that missing baby, Alex Moody.”
“That is ridiculous.”
Sherlock continued, “Dr. Maddox, you can either speak to us here, or you can contact your lawyer to meet you at the Hoover Building in Washington.”
Lister froze. Then he shook his head, “I can’t imagine why you think I would burn down my own building, and a useful one at that. If the Annex is burning, I should see to it, but of course you won’t let me do that, will you? As for Zyon, he doesn’t know much, hardly anything about my research or my results, and that means you don’t, either.”
Sherlock plowed on, ignoring him. “You’d be surprised, Doctor. We know the man who drew Kara Moody’s blood more than nine months ago looks amazingly like the same man who kidnapped Alex Moody on Monday, though he looks fifteen years younger. Would you like to see a sketch Kara Moody made of the man who drew her blood and compare it to the photo of the man at the hospital? Can you tell me I’m wrong?”
Lister stared at the young woman with glorious red hair and eyes as blue as the summer sky, eyes that were boring into him, condemning him. Kara Moody had remembered Quince well enough from nearly a year ago to draw him? He’d never considered anyone would make that connection. He looked straight at Sherlock and smiled, and for once, his worry beads stilled. “Agent, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I resent your barging in here once again and throwing around your absurd accusations. I want you to leave.”
Sherlock said over him, “I told you we’re not going anywhere, Dr. Maddox. As I said, Alex Moody’s kidnapper looks at least fifteen years younger than the man from about ten months ago. Does that mean you succeeded in your research? Managed to turn back the clock for him by fifteen years? That would be quite an accomplishment.” She paused a moment, then said, “Dr. Zyon must be a genius.”
Lister leaped to the bait. “Zyon, a genius? That’s a joke, that posing bore gave up, said we shouldn’t go on, that it was impossible, the compounds were too toxic, the cost too high. I had to continue the experiments on my own. I was the one who made the discoveries, not he!” He was panting hard. It took him a moment to realize what he’d admitted. He straightened, pulled his shoulders back, and thrust his chin up, now the man in charge, the leader. “There is nothing wrong with my doing research, Agents. I have worked for a laudable goal. You are police officers, you reduce everything to prosaic black-and-white. You are being shortsighted, ignoring what you have seen with your own eyes. Open your minds, consider possibilities you never dreamed of, consider the amazing results standing before your very eyes.”
Sherlock said, “Dr. Maddox, I do appreciate what you’ve accomplished, it seems remarkable. Perhaps you’ll tell us who else you’ve experimented on?” Sherlock waited a beat, then turned to Cargill. “How old are you?”
Cargill looked at Lister. “Sir?”
Lister waved his hand. “Tell her, she can find out your age easily enough.”
“I’m fifty-seven.”
She wouldn’t have believed him, but Sherlock had seen Kara’s drawing and she’d seen the kidnapper. “You look about thirty-five.”
“Yes,” Cargill said, throwing back his head. “I owe the man I am now to Dr. Maddox.”
Connie said, “Dr. Maddox, why haven’t you given yourself any of your magic drugs? You look every one of your fifty years.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s too early, I must perfect the treatments first. I’m the only one who understands the drugs and how to use them safely. If any problems develop with the test subjects, I’m the only one to fix them. The entire project depends on my staying healthy.”
Cargill was staring at Maddox. “Dr. Maddox, I never thought of Quince and me as your test subjects before. Is that what we are? Like lab mice?”
“Cargill, I’ve rolled back time for you and Quince, extended your life by at least fifteen years. You’re not stupid, you knew there were risks. You should be grateful.”
So Quince was the name of the kidnapper? Suddenly, it came to her in a flash. Sherlock said, “We want to speak to your father, Dr. Maddox.”
“No! You have no reason to bother him. I told you, he is too ill for visitors, much less law officers who would browbeat him. He wouldn’t understand in any case. Look, I realize this is all quite unusual, seeing Cargill, it is no doubt a shock to you. I’m perfectly willing to discuss my research with you. I will go with you to your Hoover Building. We will join my lawyers there, and I will tell you what it all means. But leave my father alone.”
“He’s seventy-eight years old,” Sherlock said slowly. “I presume you’ve given him your drugs as well, like Cargill and Quince, isn’t that right?”
Lister said nothing.
“Of course you have. So why can’t we see him? Or did your experiments on him go wrong? Did you put him in a coma, like the young man at the hospital?”
Lister Maddox leaned back against the wall, his shoulder touching a picture frame. He was frantically working his worry beads, weaving them through the fingers of both hands. It was a mesmerizing sight. “Of course not. You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me. Make me understand.”
He remained silent. Sherlock realized they were still standing in the entrance hall, but that was fine with her until the others arrived. Push him, she thought, keep pushing him. “Tell me what I don’t understand, Dr. Maddox.”
“I’m a scientist, Agent. I didn’t expect to reverse my father’s illness, but still, I had to try. I failed.”
“What went wrong, Dr. Maddox? What happened to your father? Why can’t we see him?”
It seemed to Sherlock he was going to burst into tears. He looked defeated. He waved his hand, his worry beads swinging. “Very well, why not? It seems I can’t stop you. When you do meet him, you’ll see I’ve treated him as well, that I’ve managed to restore much of his muscle mass, fat and bone, but for my father, simply restoring him to a man of fifty years old again wasn’t my ultimate goal. Some fifteen years ago my father suffered a catastrophic neurologic event that smashed his brain like a hammer. It left him an empty husk, a man who isn’t even aware of what I’ve done for him, what I’m still trying to do.” Lister paused, his face twisted. “When I show him his reflection in a mirror, he doesn’t even know it, doesn’t even realize it’s a mirror! I had so hoped my treatment would eventually restore and heal his injured brain tissue, bring back that wonderful mind of his.” He swallowed, looked at Sherlock with pain-filled eyes. “But it appears I’ve failed him; I’ve failed my father.”
The entrance hall was silent until the worry beads started clacking again.
Sherlock didn’t turn when she heard footsteps near the front door open behind her, she knew it was Dillon. She kept her focus on Dr. Maddox. “So, to be clear, Dr. Maddox, you admit you’ve given a number of human subjects your experimental drugs, without any oversight or approval, without any review of their safety? Do you consider that ethical?”
Lister straightened again, barely glancing at Savich, outrage pouring off him. “You break into my house, and then you expect me to listen to you condemn what I’ve accomplished? Outside review? Come now, Agents, don’t tell me you’re surprised I’ve tried to avoid that kind of interference. Do you think I would let those faceless idiots at the FDA dictate whether my father dies, how long it will take before all of us standing here will die, because I was afraid to flout some of their rules? And this is the same bureaucracy happy to let charlatans and hucksters peddle every kind of worthless snake oil to the desperate and dying, who will pay them anything to live just a little longer. The FDA scoff at them, yes, but they continue to let the scam artists rob people with their outlandish claims that their magical herbs, their absurd apricot pits, their pseudoscience diets will cure them of their diseases, extend their lives. Those are the people you should prosecute, those are the people you should arrest, Agents, those liars, not me!
“Most of our important medical advances were discovered outside the bounds of accepted constraints. It was Quince’s and Cargill’s choice to take the treatments, they gave me their permission. And so I moved forward, and I’ve succeeded, given these two men fifteen years of life! Can you begin to imagine what that means? Fifteen more healthy years they wouldn’t have had!”
Sherlock said, “And when they stop taking your magic pills? What will happen to them?”
“I assume they’ll simply resume natural aging.”
Cargill said, “Dr. Maddox, you told me I’d stay young forever!”
“With the treatments, of course. But without it? I don’t know—how could I?” He drew himself up. “I know I’ll probably have to answer to the authorities for breaking their rules. So be it; I am prepared for that.”
Sherlock said, “Tell us about your fountain of youth, Dr. Maddox.” She paused, added, “And tell us what you’re prepared to answer for.”
Lister Maddox nodded, obviously pleased to be asked these questions. “The sought-after fountain of youth. People have tried to slow aging since the beginning of recorded history. The Taoists may have been the first to strive for immortality by following their magical diets and leading what they termed tranquil lives. They invented acupuncture and tai chi to help them, and those are still with us today.
“You want to know why I have succeeded? In short, the genomic revolution, Agent. We age because our bodies have evolved to keep us alive and vigorous long enough to reproduce and nurture our young. Sooner or later, our cells stop dividing, become senescent, or die. We suffer dwindling strength, disease, debility. Since the beginning of time, we’ve had no choice but to submit to our own decay even though we fight it every step of the way.
“We only recently started to see aging as a genomic illness, like cancer, activated by genomic pathways. It is our master regulatory genes that set the aging clock back to zero when each of us is born, the same genes that build and repair us. I’ve been lucky enough to stumble onto a small part of that programming and alert enough to appreciate what I’ve found. Imagine curing all the diseases of aging, all the tortures of frailty. Imagine the joy you’d feel at being rejuvenated! Talk to Cargill, see how he feels and you will hear wonder in his voice. And yet you stand there proposing to stop me?”
Savich said, “Dr. Maddox, the rules are there to protect all of us from people who value the answers they seek more than they care about who they might hurt to get them. Consider the Nazi human experimentation. Undoubtedly, they justified their every action. And you, I notice you seem to be carefully avoiding talking about the crimes you’ve committed to develop your treatments.” Savich counted off on his fingers. “You haven’t mentioned your attempted murder of the young man in the hospital, or your kidnapping Kara Moody’s baby for some reason we still don’t understand. Tell us, what did you do to that young man lying in a coma? Can you show us his consent to be your test subject? Or did you kidnap him as well? Please do not throw out that old chestnut that the ends justify the means.”
“I did only what I had to do.”
Connie said, her voice vibrating with anger, “And kidnapping Alex Moody, a one-day-old baby? How does he fit in with your grand philosophizing? Were you planning on using him as a test subject as well?”
He said nothing.
Sherlock said, “It’s past time we see your father now, Dr. Maddox. We can wait for the warrant to arrive, but I see little point. Do you?”