Monday March 22 2004
La Jolla

Anna smiled as John Lynch passed through the kitchen, dressed in gray sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt. "Have a good run, sir. Will you be wanting breakfast after?"

"Probably. I'll decide what when I get back." He stepped out onto the pool deck, and paused to admire the view and smell the early-morning breeze. Then he descended the sandstone steps set into the slope of the low hill.

Technically, the beach at the foot of the hill was public land, but since the only public access was by water, strangers were seldom seen here. He stood on the narrow strip of sand between the rolling waves and the posh houses' back yards, considering a direction to start. Northward, the beach terminated at a rocky spur a mile and a half distant. Half a mile to the south, it effectively ended at a thoroughly illegal chain-link fence, six feet tall, which ran the width of the beach and into the water until it disappeared under the waves. He was the only person on the beach between.

He told himself that a four-mile run in the sand was at least as good as a five-miler on pavement or packed dirt; he hoped it was true. His increasingly demanding schedule was squeezing free time for exercise right out of his day, and John Lynch was convinced that regular exercise kept a man's mind sharp as well as guarding his health. Anyone who knew him well enough to know his real age would conclude he was doing something right.

He turned north, beginning with the longer leg of the run. Another reason he ran regularly was that it was an excellent opportunity to think. He'd been needing that a lot lately, too.

He reviewed his plans and their progress, as he pounded towards the spur and shore birds scattered at his approach. He'd got his kids – his kids, he repeated to himself wryly – settled into as normal a life as he could arrange. Their IDs would bear the closest scrutiny, and the accompanying public records were perfect forgeries. A little gadget he'd liberated from the Nevada warehouse had enabled him to provide each of them with a cellphone immune to IO's sophisticated surveillance systems. Even their school records were proof against electronic search. They were as safe as he could make them without locking them down.

He wished he could have given the same advantages to the others. He'd intended to, but their sudden early incarceration had forced him to move fast, and not fully prepared. He'd done what he could, but sending them out on their own with a stolen car, a shady contact, and a pocketful of cash had felt too much like teaching them to swim by pushing them off the end of the dock.

He gave a mental sigh as he turned at the rock wall, his breathing only slightly heavier. He still had a few people at the Shop he could trust, who'd tell him how close IO was on his trail, and whether it had caught any of the others. He decided to keep such information to himself; he couldn't see any profit from telling the kids, if any of their friends fell back into Ivana's hands.

As he approached the house, he saw Eddie shadowboxing on the pool deck. The boy paused to grin and wave, and Lynch felt the corners of his mouth turn up as he raised a hand in return. A head capped with darkly shining red hair bobbed above the pool's rim, and a long, slender arm rose from the water to wave as well. His chest tightened as he lifted his hand again and passed by.

A man stood on the other side of the chain link, a hand in the pocket of his windbreaker – not unusual. But he opened the gate and beckoned as Lynch approached, which was. "Mr. Ricci would like to see you."

He passed through and walked a short distance to the elaborately terraced back yard of the Ricci compound's beach house. He climbed the steps to the topmost deck, where Eddie Rich sat at a small round table set with a light breakfast for two. "Sit down, Jack. You make me tired just watching you. Someday you're gonna have a heart attack right on the beach. The tide'll wash your body out to sea, and everybody'll think I did it. Breakfast?"

"Morning, Eduardo. Just water, thanks. My housekeeper will pout if I don't let her feed me when I get back." He sat.

Ricci gave him a lopsided grin. "Gotta keep the ladies happy. Specially that little cutie pie." He sipped his coffee. "You got houseguests. Bunch a kids. Seems out of character."

"One of them's mine. The others are school buddies."

The gangster buttered a roll. "So, when they going back?"

"They're not. I talked them into transferring. They'll be staying with me, probably until they graduate." He kept his face and body relaxed while he took the mental step back that gave him access to his powers.

"Uh huh." He took a bite of his pastry, chewed, and swallowed, while Lynch waited. "You got a lot of heart. Russo says the girls are sweet. Wants to take down the fence, just so he can watch em jog past the house." He looked out over the water. "But I doubt you're keeping them around because they're eye candy. Great view, isn't it? I love it here. Nice and quiet. You're a good neighbor, Jack. You keep to yourself, mind your own business. You like things quiet too. Half the people on this street think you work for me."

"You couldn't afford me."

He smiled again. "And that tells me who you do work for, don't it?"

"I'm retired, Eduardo."

"You're the busiest retiree I ever seen."

"I get absorbed in my hobbies. Did you have something on your mind?"

Eddie nodded. "Like I said, you're a good neighbor. I'd hate to see trouble come your way. And I'd hate to see my quiet little neighborhood overrun with noisy strangers."

"The kids won't be any trouble. I didn't tell them more than they need to know, but they know the rules."

"I'm not worried about your kids, Jack. I know they'll behave." The man turned to look Jack in the eye for the first time. "Someone very well-connected is looking for a schoolful of runaway kids. They're doing it quiet and not giving up information, but they're turning over every rock, and throwing out money in handfuls. They won't learn anything from my people, but they're asking everybody. I got friends in Chicago, New York, Vegas, Atlantic City, Miami. People who know people, and good at finding things that cops can't."

Lynch nodded. "Information services" were a growing criminal enterprise. They subverted computer networks, ran strings of paid informers, planted moles, and practiced high-level industrial espionage; miniature CIAs-for-hire.

"They're all getting little visits, and being put on retainer. And money's not the only persuader these clients are using. They know shit they can't possibly know. Fuck, seems like the only thing they don't know is where to find these kids." He turned back to the ocean and drained his cup. "Be real careful who you tell about your little houseguests, Jack. Keep a low profile. It's not gonna be easy keeping them out of the searchlights. You might wanna start thinking about having someplace to run to, just in case."

MacArthur University

Outside the lab, Joel and Kat high-fived, grinning. "'Exemplary,'" she quoted. "'Rigorous technique.""

"'Lab-quality research,'" Joel added. "Think we impressed him?"

"I think if the rest of the lab goes like this, we'll be tapped as teaching assistants by the end of the week."

"God forbid. Who has the time?"

She smiled at him. "God forbid."

-0-

Roxanne took her cheek off her fist, sat up straight in her chair, and tried to look more interested in the conversation at her regular lunch table. None of her "family" was here: her lunchtime was different from Kat's and Bobby's, and Sarah spent her breaks elsewhere, and God knew where Grunge was today. She'd been provisionally accepted by some of the girls here, but Roxy missed the easy acceptance and bright lunchtime conversations at Darwin.

There was a great deal about Darwin she didn't miss, of course; a great deal she didn't even want to remember about it. But if she spent one more lunchtime listening to Rachel piss and moan about her loser boyfriend Adam, she couldn't be held responsible for her actions. Why would a girl give her heart to a guy she's afraid to leave alone with her purse?

Or her sister, a second, malicious inner voice added.

She suddenly realized someone had spoken her name. "What? Sorry. Thinking."

"I said, you must have some war stories to tell. Keeping a leash on Eddie must be a challenge." The speaker was Rachel's best friend Luanne, a girl Roxy would chat with but wouldn't turn her back on.

Roxy twisted the corner of her mouth in a sort of smile. "Gotta have a little trust, Lu. If you love something, set it free." And if it comes back with a hickey on its neck, crush its testicles.

"Uh huh. I'm thinking Brittany'd appreciate that attitude."

Her attention came into focus. "Brittany?"

"Yeah. They're in my Math. She's been asking him for help since their first class together." The girl's eyebrows rose. "Funny. She's four-oh, but when Eddie's around she can't count to twelve with her shoes on." She added meaningfully, "We all have the same lunch, Mondays and Thursdays." She made a show of looking around. "Don't see her, though. You can't miss her. Five-six, bleach blonde, short skirt."

Roxy stood up with her tray, although there were ten minutes left before class. "Gonna go freshen up." While she sorted her dishes and placed her tray on the dishwashing conveyor, she reminded herself of the last time she'd listened to gossip about Grunge's fidelity. There are girls like Luanne everywhere. Don't pay any attention. She calmed.

But she was sure she'd drop a few casual questions about where he was at lunch, just the same.

-0-

Sarah spent her lunch on the grass behind the Science Building. Her next class was Meteorological Science, so she was practically waiting outside the door of her classroom. That was good; she was in no mood to keep close track of time.

She sat with her back against an evergreen, letting the pine smell and the rough feel of the bark bring back childhood memories good and bad. She drew her knees up to her chin, for once unmindful of the furtive stares of boys and the occasional girl, and wound her arms around them. Her eyes misted as she said softly, "Happy birthday, Sister."

La Jolla

"Rick." Standing at the open side door, Anna looked up with wide eyes. "What's wrong?"

The big guard's hands shifted nervously on his belt. "I, uh, wanted to talk to you."

"Well, come in. The kids are at school, and Mr. Lynch is gone; it's just you and me, nice and private."

"Sure you want to let me in?" He moved his head. "I mean, alone in the house and all."

"Rick. If I can't trust you in the house, who's going to keep us safe?" She stepped back. "Let me get you a cup of coffee."

He stepped in, but not far enough for her to shut the door. "Thanks. I can't stay, though." He shifted his feet.

"Get your butt in here now." When the flustered man stepped in, she shut the door, placed a hand in the small of his back, and pushed him gently but firmly through the living room towards the kitchen. "I should be afraid of you? The very idea." She pointed to a chair at the table. When he was settled into it with his hand wrapped around a mugful of Jamaica Blue Mountain, she sat across from him and stretched her hand across the table, palm up. She wiggled her fingers until he placed his free hand in hers, blushing.

She gripped it, firmly but not painfully so. "Don't start doubting yourself. It's hazardous in your line of work."

He shrugged helplessly. "I'm ashamed of myself. And a little scared. Of what happened, I mean."

"Don't be. I can't help thinking you're just as much a victim here as anyone."

His brows gathered. "She didn't come on to me, Anne. She's blameless."

"And so are you. She doesn't mean to, but she has a very erotic effect on men sometimes." She added, "They all do." She tugged his hand. "They're all beautiful. But there are a lot of pretty girls in So Cal, and I'm sure they never tried your restraint like she did. There's something special about her, about them." She held his eyes. "Tell me about that first meeting, Rick. Every detail. What you both said and did, how she acted, the way you felt. Don't be embarrassed. Not if you truly want to atone, if you want to protect them."

An hour later, she sent him out the door with a smile. Now alone in the house, she entered the basement to Mr. Lynch's study and sat at his computer, a much more sophisticated machine than the one in the kitchen. She typed the series of commands he'd taught her the day before, and the heavy phi used by IO as a logo filled the screen.

Her access of International Operations' database was fractional, limited to the resources of the Operations Directorate, Lynch's old satrapy. But it exchanged information with the Research and Planning Directorates frequently, and everywhere such a connection was open, she was able to piggyback and gather information.

Available data on the runaways was still scant, but the organization had closely observed the Gen Twelves in its service, and not all the Thirteens had left with Mr. Lynch. She searched through several hundred pages of data before she found a file of reports containing the first references to what she suspected she'd find.

Incidence of Incubus Effect among Generation 12 Test Subjects

Variations in Incubus Effect: Effect of Emotional State on Range & Efficacy

Possible Uses of Incubus Effect in Field Operations

Development of Incubus/Succubus Effect in Generation 13 Test Subjects: Nicole and Matthew Callahan

Recommended Safety Precautions in Proximity of G13 Nicole Callahan

Use of Succubus Effect as a Weapon or Interrogation Tool: G13 Nicole Callahan

Possible Psychological Aberrations Associated with I/S Effect

Indications of Manifestation of I/S Effect among G13s at Holding Facility (Darwin Academy)

Even though there was no one to see, Anna touched her lips with her fingers as she read, and her eyes widened. "Oh, my."