Transhuman by Ben Bova Page B

into a spacious, beautifully decorated bedroom.
    Angela’s eyes went wide as she took in the canopied bed. “Is that for me?”
    â€œYes indeed, little lady,” said Merriwether. “All for you.”
    Luke deposited Angela gently on the bed, then stretched the stiffness from his back. Tamara went to the curtained window, fascinated with the view of the slowly flowing river.
    â€œYou and the lady have the next room, through there.” Merriwether pointed toward a door in the side wall.
    Luke felt his cheeks go warm. “Um … we’ll need two rooms. Dr. Minteer is Angela’s physician.”
    â€œOh!” Merriwether looked surprised, but he quickly masked it with another brilliant smile. “Forgive me. I thought…”
    Tamara turned back from the window and said, “Our relationship is based on Angela.”
    â€œI see.”
    All three of them turned to look at the child, who was sleeping blissfully, half buried in the mound of pillows on the canopied bed.
    *   *   *
    I N BOSTON, JERRY Hightower stood stolidly in front of his chief’s desk.
    â€œDo you mean to tell me you went back to the Washington office and left him there in the clinic, without anyone guarding him?”
    Hightower felt like a schoolboy being reprimanded by the principal. But I deserve it, he thought. I let the guy get away.
    â€œI told the clinic’s security head to keep him from leaving the building,” he said.
    â€œThat worked fine, didn’t it?” The chief sneered.
    â€œHe’s an old man,” Hightower said. “I didn’t expect him to slug one of the guards and drive away with the kid and the doctor.”
    The director got up from his squeaking chair and came around the desk. He was barely as tall as Hightower’s shoulders, but the agent backed a step away from him.
    â€œJerry, this is a major screw-up. You let a fugitive get away from you.”
    â€œTechnically, he’s not a fugitive. At least, he wasn’t then. That’s why I had to go to the office, to fill out the papers—”
    â€œBut you let him get away! That’s not like you. What’s going on?”
    Hightower shrugged. “He’s not a criminal. He wants to save his granddaughter’s life.”
    The director scowled at him. “The man is wanted for kidnapping, for God’s sake! You had him and you let him go! By rights, I should ask for your resignation!”
    â€œI’ll find him,” Hightower said. “I found him once, I’ll find him again. There’s only a few places in the country that he can run to, only a few places with the facilities that he needs.”
    The director took in a big breath, then let it out again in a wistful sigh.
    â€œAll right. You find him. You find him before the news media gets wind of this and I have to discipline you.”
    Hightower nodded once, then left the director’s office, working hard to suppress an urge to run.
    *   *   *
    I N HIS OFFICE in Boston’s financial district, Del Villanueva paced back and forth as he listened to his wife on the cordless phone he held clamped to his ear.
    â€œYes, Norrie, I’ve called the FBI office twice this morning. Same story: They were in Bethesda, just outside of Washington, but they took off.”
    Lenore’s voice was shuddering. “Why didn’t they arrest him? How could they let him go?”
    Shaking his head, Del replied, “They couldn’t arrest him because he wasn’t officially charged with a crime yet.”
    â€œBut he’s kidnapped Angie!”
    â€œThe charge has been filed,” Del said, before Norrie could work herself up into another bout of weeping. “He’s now officially a wanted man. The FBI’s looking for him across the whole country.”
    â€œWhat if he’s gone to Canada? Or Mexico?”
    â€œHe’d have to show a passport, and