Robert Walker - Absolute Instinct

She placed a hand over his, recognizing his distress. “It's going to be all right, Darwin.”

“Sure… sure it is.”

“The cavalry has arrived. Your friend, Towne, is not alone anymore.”

“Friend? I never said the man was my-my friend. He's a wrongly accused black man, who… who deserves better… a better shake. That's all he is to me, Dr. Coran.”

“No. No, he's much more to you than that. Darwin, are you related to Robert Towne?”

His gaze met hers, and he swallowed hard. “You can't let anyone else know.”

“I understand. I also understand why you wouldn't want Govenor Hughes to know that.”

“Press gets hold of it… that Robert's my half brother… and what credibility does that leave for my fight to free him? None, not a scintilla. Everyone would simply believe I had no evidence, only a blood tie.”

“You could have trusted me. You might've given me the benefit of a doubt.” She felt betrayed, hurt.

“Don't take it personally, Doctor, but if I'd have told you on our first meeting, would you have worked so hard on Robert's behalf? Would you have sent Richard Sharpe to Minnesota? Would you even be here now?”

“I'd feel better if Sharpe had something concrete in Minnesota.”

“He's on it, you said.”

“Best man we could have put on it. Think Gary Cooper, High Noon, who else could've played the part?”

FBI Agent Richard Sharpe felt he might go mad in Millbrook. Nothing had gone well. The lab had not completed even the preliminary work on the scrapings taken from Louisa Childe's nails, cellular tissue almost invisible to the naked eye with an infinitesimal amount of dried, degenerated blood clinging to it.

In Dr. Herman Krueshach, he had a real winner. Krueshach had shopped out the work to Minneapolis, only now telling Sharpe that Millbrook wasn't big enough to handle the process, not without taking chances, not with the limited and limiting equipment, and not with the limited amount of material taken from Louisa Childe that they had to work with. Much of the substance they'd scraped had been compromised and broken down over time due to the poor quality of the coffin, allowing dampness and water to seep in.

“That's what the bird on the overhanging branch wanted,” Richard had decided, stating it aloud now. “The water she… the corpse… had been lying in.” To Krueshach he added, “So everything has been transferred already to a lab in Minneapolis?”

“Ahhh, St. Paul to be exact.”

“Christ, you might have consulted me.”

“This decision is mine.”

“Give me the information. What's the name of the lab?”

“Cellmark of St. Paul. They're quite reputable. Do a lot of work for the Mayo Clinic.”

“And they have a backlog and Mayo's at the top of their list of clients. Shit, gaw-blimey for a fool!”

“No, Agent Sharpe, they promised to put it at the head of the line.”

“And can you trust that? I'm going there to await results. To sit on them.”

“Suit yourself, Agent.”

“I damn well will.” He stormed from Krueshach's lab and shoved past Brannan as he was entering. Brannan threw up his hands and asked Krueshach, “What gives?”

After Krueshach explained, Brannan rushed after Sharpe, catching him on the steps of the police station. “I'll arrange to drive you to St. Paul,” he offered. “Don't do me any favors.”

“Goddamn it man, I'm not doing shit for you. I want this freak that killed Louisa Childe more than anyone, and if it's not the guy in Portland, then by God, I want his execution set aside, so we can search for the real motherfucker!”

The two men glared at one another, their eyes boring in, twisting and turning before they mutually pulled back. Finally, Richard said, “Then it would appear we both want the same thing.”

“Exactly.”

“All right then… all right, I accept your offer to drive me to St. Paul.”

“We'll sit on their doorstep until we get results.”

“That's my plan, that and a call from the director of the FBI.”

“That oughta cut some ice.”

“We can only hope so. Where's your car?”

“Whoa up there, Sharpe. I've got to clear all this with my superior. Even in Millbrook, there's such a thing as protocol and channels.”

“And how long has that been the case?”

Brannan glared, but then he burst into a hearty laugh. “It won't take long. In and out, especially if you're 'longside me with that mug of yours. My boss is a sucker for higher-authority types like you. Come on.”

Darwin and Jessica disembarked and stood on the runway with bags in hand, no one to greet them. Darwin looked off into the distance at a row of other hangars, searching for the FBI car that was to take them to the governor's mansion. Jessica looked at her Citizen watch. “Time's running low. If we miss the meeting, there might not be another shot, at least not today.”

“Damn it, I was told the local field guys would be here to greet us.” She handed him her cellular. “Get on the phone and call them,” she urged. “Tell 'em to haul ass.”

Darwin pushed her phone back into her hands, and pulled out his own. He got right through to someone, but in a moment Jessica saw Darwin's brow crease, first in confusion and then anger. “I don't give a damn about your motor pool problems or your mother's gallbladder, Agent Riley. Get us transport and do it now!” He swore under his breath and shook his head and stepped about in a tight little circle of indignation and rage. “Fucking bastard says they didn't expect us for another two hours, some shit about logging it in as A.M. instead of P.M., so a car was waiting at 4 A.M., and some shit about since we did not show, blah-blah-blah.”

“A car was waiting for us? At four this morning?”

“Was being the operative word. It obviously didn't wait for us.” His attempt to lighten the situation didn't improve either of their moods. Darwin's mood had darkened to the hue of his skin, and he sent a fist into a sign on a chain-link fence, rattling the entire fence and denting the sign that read: No Loitering on Runway.

“There's a cab stand the other side of the fence. We can grab a cab, Darwin.”

“No, the car's on the way. It's on the way.”

Ten minutes passed.

Sitting on her bags, Jessica finally said, “Let's catch a damn cab, Darwin.”

“There, there it is!” he pointed to a car pulling out onto the runway. It carefully made its way toward them, two agents inside. These two appeared pissed off at pulling this duty; they looked deeply glum, deadly serious and terribly unfriendly.

“These boys look unhappy in their work,” she said in gross understatement.

“They're going to be a lot unhappier when I get through with them.” The car halted, the trunk popped open and the two men climbed out.

“Let's just get to the wedding on time, Darwin,” Jessica cautioned. “Let it go for now.”

“All right, agreed, for now.” He hefted their bags and tossed them into the trunk as the two Portland field agents flashed their badges and offered their halfhearted cliches about being at their disposal while in the Portland area, while at the same time offering no help with the bags.

“Save it. We've wasted enough time here, gentlemen,” Jessica said, fearful of losing her own control at their attitude. “We're only here to save an innocent man's life.”

Darwin added nothing but an approving look.

Jessica quickly climbed into the rear of the luxurious Lincoln Town Car, not wishing to be witness to Darwin's rage at the two should he decide to unleash it. But while she heard him use the term jag-offs moments before he climbed into the rear himself to sit alongside her, she was proud that he'd held himself in check.