"At least he was civil about it," Shalimar offered tentatively. "I mean, he could have closed the door in our face before hearing what we had to say." The apartment door still quivered from the force of being slammed shut, and another hallway light bulb had blown out in sympathy. Shalimar couldn't be disappointed at the lack of light: it helped to hide the flock of cockroaches that was scurrying for cover beneath the threadbare hall carpet.

"If I hadn't pulled my foot back it would have gotten pinched," Adam pointed out dryly.

"Bottom line, the answer was no, Terrence Davies is not open to assisting a fellow mutant by making a tissue donation. And as you said, Adam, this is a volunteer only project." Jesse put in his two cents. "Which means we get to move on to Perfect Gene Prospect No. Two." He made a small show of consulting his notepad. "It's not too far from here. Shall we hoof it, or take the car?"

"Hoof it," was Shalimar's immediate response, "or don't you remember how long it took to find this one parking spot? There a convention in town?"

Jesse changed the subject as they exited the decrepit apartment building and turned right. The sun beat down brightly on their backs and the air was surprisingly fresh for this time of year. Cars were jammed along both sides of the streets. The one lone empty parking spot was nabbed as they watched, a large sedan wedging its way into the barely adequate slot. People thronged past them, hurrying to get to where they were going before whatever self-imposed deadline arrived. "What if this mutant doesn't want to help out either?"

Adam avoided the question. "Would you? Think about it, Jesse. The early indications are that Benji will require some rather difficult to acquire body samples, which means our volunteer will need to come out of hiding to spend time recuperating from the procedure. Yes, he can stay with us at Sanctuary or Bea will offer him a stay at her country place while this is going on, and that spot is far enough out of the way to be safe, but it's a big commitment. Would you be willing to do that for a man you don't know?" he asked again.

Jesse shrugged. "He's still a fellow mutant, Adam, for all that he doesn't have any special gifts."

"Speed, agility, size—oh, yeah, he's a mutant," Shalimar disagreed.

"Whatever. The point is, like the rest of us, Benji was cheated out of a normal life. He deserves a chance," Jesse insisted.

"Well, let's hope that William F. McElroy is willing to give it to him." Adam opened the door, politely ushering the pair inside their destination.

This apartment complex was significantly more upscale than the previous one. The foyer was clean, the marble floor freshly swept. Even the three elevators sprang to attention when Shalimar pressed the call button.

William F. McElroy didn't live in the penthouse, but he did live one level down. He answered the door himself. "Yes?"

He took a second look. "Dr. Kane? Adam?"

"Hello, Bill. It's been a long time." Adam extended a hand, and McElroy took it automatically. "How have you been? Doing well for yourself, I see," he added, indicating the plush surroundings inside.

McElroy remember his manners, and invited them in, quickly getting over his initial shock at seeing the trio on his doorstep. The man seemed to have adjusted well to mundane life, Shalimar reflected. The three sat themselves on a comfortable sofa set on the center of an Oriental rug, Adam and Jesse at home in the luxurious surroundings but Shalimar just a trifle over-awed.

McElroy set a tray of drinks before them, not bothering to ask if they wanted any. Shalimar declined, but Adam sipped a cup of coffee, and raised it to his host. "You always did like good coffee, Bill."

"One of the few pleasures left to me, Adam," McElroy replied. He set his own cup down on the coffee table, Shalimar wincing as he didn't bother with a saucer. The water ring would join the others that dotted the expensive-looking wood table top. "You may as well get to the point. Every time I've seen you over the last five years, you've always wanted something from me. I hope it isn't money. I'm leaving everything to my daughter."

"No, not money, Bill. That's not a problem, thank goodness. I do need your help. Actually, it's a young mutant friend of mine, and of Bea Sutter. Remember her?"

"Bea? Of course I do. How is she?" McElroy's eyes lit up.

"Looking good, Bill, looking good." Adam paused. "She has a son."

McElroy lifted his eyebrows. "So, she kept the kid? She refused to abort? Obviously, or you wouldn't be bringing it up. What's the rest of the story? Is he everything Bea hoped he would be, or did he turn out like Genomex expected?"

Adam sighed. "Genomex was right on that one. The kid physically is what they were going for, but he has significant mental deficits. Yes, and that's why I'm here, Bill."

"I'm not a teacher, Adam, and certainly not a special ed teacher." Cautiously.

"Not what Bea and I are looking for. Bea has come up with a way to reverse the genetic damage her son suffered yet still maintain his excellent physical condition."

"And where do I come in?"

"You always did have a knack for coming straight to the point. It's a protein based therapy." Adam warmed to his subject, leaning back on the sofa and taking another sip of coffee. "We can create a serum based on a genetically similar but specifically altered DNA structure, inject it into Bea's son, and, if the theory holds true, boost the boy's intelligence quotient by fifty to one hundred IQ points. Translation: we take a sample of your cerebral proteins, modify it, give it to Benji, and he comes out with normal intelligence. If we're lucky."

"Lucky," McElroy echoed. The corners of his mouth turned down, and he sipped at his coffee once again to cover it. "So if you're not here after my money, you're after my blood. Is that it?"

"Something like that," Adam admitted. "And I'll be upfront with you, Bill; the sampling procedure isn't pleasant, and you'll need to recuperate for a day or so. But it's a chance to even the scales for one innocent kid. Interested?"

McElroy sighed. "Yes, but I can't help you."

"Can't, or won't?" Jesse asked pointedly.

McElroy favored the molecular with a tired eye. "Can't." He pulled back the sleeve over his arm, exposing an ugly round black lesion. "Know what this is?"

Adam identified it immediately. "Karposi's sarcoma." He tightened his lips. "I'm sorry, Bill. Is there anything I can do?"

McElroy shrugged again. "Keep an eye out for my daughter. I haven't seen any signs of anything yet—her mother was a normal—but she's only sixteen. Something still may blossom."

"Have you had her tested?"

"I haven't dared. You know what Genomex is like."

Adam nodded. "She's in hiding, then."

"Along with her mother. Katherine knows how to get hold of me. And you, too, Adam, should it come to that. I hope you don't mind." He snorted in defeat. "Of course you mind. You're no more secure than I am, and probably less. You must think I'm a fool to count on you, after all these years."

Adam shook his head. "No, I don't mind. I'm flattered, Bill. I just wish I could do more."