D Carpenter - Infertile Grounds

Maurice studied the identification before handing it back.

“When I got here and saw your car wasn’t around, I figured that I’d have to wait for a while,” Pell said apologetically.

Maurice took off his sun-glasses, exposing striking gray eyes and said, “It’s okay, Paul Pelletier. I don’t have a car, and I wasn’t expecting company today. Particularly the FBI.”

Pell smiled. People hated surprise visits by the FBI.

“He’s an old boy. What’s his name?” He asked as he leaned down and patted the dog.

“That’s Louie,” Maurice replied. “He’s almost fourteen. He’s old like me; isn’t that right, Louie, huh?” Maurice rubbed the dog’s back.

“You don’t have a car?”

“No, when I retired, I decided that I’d had enough of all that. I spent too much time in cars, on the phone, and watching TV in my life – too much time that was gone and would never be back. Everything I need is within walking distance from here.”

“You live alone?”

“My wife, Tracy, died five years ago, and since then, it’s just been Louie and myself.”

“I’m sorry about your wife.”

The old man grimaced and nodded as he unlocked the door that led into the house. “Come in,” he said and walked inside. Maurice went to the sink and poured himself a glass of water. “Do you want some?”

“No thanks,” Pell replied. The inside of the camp smelt of burnt wood and appeared to have only two rooms. They stood in the larger one which was a kitchen and family room combination. The other looked like a bedroom. The massive stone fireplace that consumed one wall was by far the most noticeable feature.

“That’s quite a fireplace,” Pell said.

“Yep,” Maurice nodded. Louie noisily lapped from his water dish as Maurice said, “So what can I do for you, Agent Pelletier?”

“You can call me Pell for starters.”

“Okay, Pell. What can I do for you?”

“Well, it’s a long story that I won’t bore you with, and I’m not at liberty to discuss it in detail anyway, but I’m looking for a former student of yours. It’s urgent that I find her,” Pell said. When Maurice didn’t offer any response, he continued, “Her name’s Sarah Burns. Do you remember her?”

Maurice’s expression didn’t change. Either he had a hell of a poker face or he wasn’t surprised to hear that she was the one he sought.

“Of course I remember her,” Maurice replied. “I’m sure you went to the University and they pointed you in my direction. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Pell chuckled – old but still sharp. “It is. I guess that it was kind of a long shot, but I wanted to know if you had heard from her recently.”

Maurice shook his grey head. “I haven’t talked to her in –” He paused briefly, silently moving his lips, “Sixteen or seventeen years.”

“So you don’t know where she is now?”

Maurice shook his head again, “Why are you looking for her? What did she do?”

Pell took a deep breath as he sat down in an old kitchen chair with rusty metal legs.

“You remember her major? Let’s just say that it’s rumored she’s using her skills in a not-so-positive way. I haven’t been able to prove anything yet – because I can’t find her. It’s like she dropped off the face of the planet eighteen years ago.”

“What do you think she’s done?”

“I can’t say. It’s all speculation at this point. Can you tell me a little about her?”

Maurice refilled his water glass and sat down at the table with Pell. “I’m not going to tell you anything until you tell me what you think she’s done. You say there’s rumor about something and you have no proof. Until I know what it is you are speculating here, I’m not about to start talking to you about a student of mine. So you’re either going to tell me everything, or you’re going to leave. It’s your choice. Frankly, I could care less either way.”

“I could get a judge to compel you to talk,” Pell said. “Wouldn’t take more than a few hours.”

“Go for it.”

Pell leaned back in his chair. Maurice was a tough old bastard but Pell had nothing to lose.

“I’m based in the Bangor, Maine office. A couple of days ago, a guy came into the office and told me a story.” He proceeded to tell Maurice everything he knew.

When done, he stood up and helped himself to a glass of water. Maurice sat quietly spinning the Red Sox cap slowly on his right index finger. Pell came back to the table, sat down and waited for him to respond.

“So she finally did it,” Maurice said as he flicked the cap onto the table.

“Did what?”

“Sarah was special. We’d get a student like her every few years.” He paused, as if to clearly frame his thoughts. “By her junior year all we could do was help her learn to focus. She was already into the realm of the theoretical, the unknown – a truly brilliant girl.”

“So you’re telling me that Sarah Burns could actually be creating a virus and it would be possible to do something like this in the woods of northern Maine.”

“It’s not where you are with bioscience. It’s who you are.”

“Do you think she’d actually do this?”

“Absolutely.”

When Sarah awoke, she went out onto the balcony off her bedroom. The sun was rising to the east behind the house. She was an east coast girl so it seemed unnatural, the sun should rise, not set over the ocean. The horizon was a deep purple blue haze making it difficult to distinguish the water from the sky. The crisp air lacked the bite of northern Maine. It was softer more laid back. California air. She placed her hands on the cool, dewy iron railing. Goose flesh crept up her arms and down her body.

After a few minutes, she went back inside, put on a robe and walked downstairs. As she entered the dining room, the smell of freshly ground coffee greeted her. The table had been set with croissants, fruit and a pitcher of freshly squeezed juice. No one else was in the room, and she assumed that Camilla was not up yet.

She sat down and poured herself a glass of juice. The morning’s LA Times lay on the table, and she skimmed it. What a life Camilla led – staff on hand to cook, to drive her around, to organize her days, to wait on her and attend to her every need.

A large cut glass vase filled with brilliantly red oriental poppies, roses and tulips stood in the middle of the table and filled the room with a sweet, sensual aroma. She was anxious to see Seth tonight. She was still annoyed about all of the recent near disasters, but that couldn’t fully suppress her excitement about the future, near and far.

Albert came into the room quietly and she jumped as he said, “Good morning, Ms. Burns.”

“Good morning, Albert.”

“I didn’t expect you up this early.”

“I’m still on East Coast time,” she replied. “This is a wonderful breakfast you’ve laid out here.”

“Camilla requested that I prepare it for you.”

“Is she up?”

“Yes, but she had an early appointment. She told me to tell you that she’d be back around ten, and then you two can get ready to leave.”

“Excellent. It’s awfully early for a meeting, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes it’s easier to get people’s attention first thing in the morning.”

“Do you want to join me?” Sarah asked. She wanted to know exactly how much he knew about her and Gen96.

“I would love to, but I have to prepare Camilla’s bags for your trip later today,” he replied as he stirred two heaping teaspoons of brown sugar into his coffee. “She says she’ll be gone for a couple of weeks. Does that sound right to you?”