"Impossible."
"My sentiments exactly. But there I was, staring at the evidence. The only explanation I could think of was mischief or sabotage. But who? So I thought of a foolproof way to overcome this. After obtaining a fresh sample, I took multiple photos of the unstable form and hid them in various places in the office and my home; I even went so far as to build a crude model and lock it in a safe."
"That should have done it."
Dr. Monnet was shaking his head slowly. "No. When I went to check later, they all had changed: the computer backups, the photos, even the structural model."
"I know I sound like a broken record, but that's impossible!" Nadia couldn't believe Dr. Luc Monnet was feeding her this nonsense. Had he snapped?
He smiled but with no trace of humor. "I kept repeating that word too, like a mantra. I must have said it thousands of times since I began working with Loki, but after months I have come to accept the fantastic as fact. What choice do I have? Its properties are predictable and replicable. And I have sat here and watched my photos and models and drawings change before my eyes, felt all memory of the structure I had been looking at only seconds before vanish like smoke."
"But that's—" No. She would not say the word again.
"You don't believe me," he said, and this time she found a trace of humor in the twist of his lips. "Good. I'd worry about you if you did. Were positions reversed, I'd say that you were in dire need of intense therapy and large doses of Thorazine. This is why I waited until today to introduce you to Loki. Today is this sample's twenty-ninth day. When you come in tomorrow morning you will find it all changed, and you will not remember what the original looked like."
Yes, I will, Nadia promised silently. Oh, yes, I will.
"And then your work will begin. I'll give you a fresh sample—perhaps the last fresh sample we will be able to secure—and then you will have twenty-nine days to stabilize it. I'm hoping you will not leave us flat like your predecessor."
"I'm not a quitter."
"I know you aren't. That is why I have high hopes for you."
Not a quitter, no, but she had zero tolerance for looniness. Too much pseudoscience and bad science around as it was, and she would not add to it. A molecule that degraded to a different form was no big deal—but changing all records of its former structure as well? Absurd. Dr. Monnet said this phenomenon is predictable and replicable? She'd see about that. Nadia was going to make copies of the Loki molecule's structure, including a printout to take home with her. Tomorrow morning she'd prove how wrong he was.
"You say it's going to change overnight. Do you know when?"
"I know the exact minute."
"Really? What's the trigger?"
A heartbeat's worth of hesitation. "A celestial event."
Oh, please! "Which one?"
"Can I hold that in reserve as well?" he said, sounding apologetic. "I'm not trying to be coy or overly mysterious, but I feel you will be more accepting of all this tomorrow when you've seen—experienced for yourself—the changes I've described."
It was the way he said it that unsettled her—not with the note of someone anticipating vindication, but with the air of a rational man who had been forced to accept the unacceptable.
"This whole thing doesn't make sense. It borders on… supernatural."
"I know," he sighed. "That is another reason I christened it Loki. Loki was a god, a supernatural being."
10
"I'm so glad I talked you into this," Gia said.
She was dressed in faded jeans and a pink Polo shirt, and had taken the wheel of the Buick. Legally it was Gia's ride. Jack had bought it, maintained it, and paid its monthly garage fee, but it was registered in Gia's name and hers whenever she needed it. Both of them felt more comfortable riding in a car registered to a real person.
"Me too," Jack replied, but not so sure he meant it.
Gia had been working on a painting when he'd stopped by her place. If he'd had any inkling she'd want to drive out to the Hamptons, he never would have mentioned it. But mention he did, and she'd jumped on the idea with such enthusiasm that he couldn't say no.
It'll be all right, he told himself. Just a cruise by Dragovic's place, maybe a walk on the beach to see the ocean side of his property, and then back to the city. No risk, no danger to Gia and Vicky, just a couple and a child taking in the sights.
"I've never been out to the Hamptons," Gia said. "Have you?"
Flecks of pigment still clung to her fingers as they gripped the steering wheel. Vicky sat in the backseat, engrossed in an old Nancy Drew hardcover Jack had found in a used bookstore. A good night's sleep seemed to have been all she'd needed to recover from last night's scare, although Jack wondered how she'd react next time Gia took her to the museum.
"A few times," Jack said. "Just to see what it was like."
They'd cruised the Long Island Expressway most of the way out, then switched to the two-lane Montauk Highway for the drive onto the south fork. They'd passed though West Hampton, Bridgehampton, This-hampton, That-hampton, and lots of fields between. Farm country out here—the potato fields had been plowed and planted; cornstalks stood ankle-high under the late May sun. All the windows were open and the breeze ruffled Gia's short blond hair, lifting and twirling little golden wings.
"South Hampton College," Jack said as they passed the road sign pointing to the right. "Home of the Fighting Quahogs."
"What?" Gia laughed and glanced at him. "It didn't say that! Did it?"
"Of course it did. Would I make up something like that?"
"Yes. Most certainly yes." She hit the brake. "I'm going to turn around and go back to that sign, and if you're lying…"
"OK, OK. I made up the Fighting Quahogs. But if they're not the Fighting Quahogs, they should be, don't you think? That's one tough clam."
"Enough about clams. What about your trips out here? Were you with anyone?"
Jack smiled. Gia was always looking for clues about his pre-Gia love life.
"All by myself. Went all the way to Montauk one time. Put in calls to Paul Simon, Billy Joel, Sting, Paul McCartney, and Kim Bassinger to let them know I was coming—they all live out here, you know."
"I read the papers too."
"Yeah, well, you being from Iowa and all, I wasn't sure you knew. Anyway, they never got back to me. Not a one. Must have been out of town."
"They're busy people. You've got to give them more notice."
"I suppose. But I did stop off to see the Memory Motel—you know, from the Stones song? Walked the dunes. Nothing special except for the size of some of the houses. I guess I'm not much of a beach person."
"I love the beach. Thanks for letting us come along. It's such a beautiful day to get out of the city… especially after last night." She glanced into the backseat where Vicks was still absorbed in her book, then at Jack. "Did you find who you were looking for after you left?"
Jack nodded. "Got his name and address. He's got a broken leg."
"Good. What are you going to do?"
"What do you want me to do?"
"Last night I wanted to have him strung up by his thumbs and let the Yankees use him as a tackling dummy."
"Uh, Gia, the Yankees are a baseball team. They don't tackle."
"Whoever then. You know what I mean. I'm saner now. Maybe a broken leg is enough."
"Maybe…" Jack said aloud, mentally adding: for you.