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The sun rose early on a Monday morning in June. Its light diffused through the white curtains into my room. My conditioner
had not been working properly, so I lay in bed practically naked and wet. One by one, my alarms brought me to consciousness,
a veritably unpleasant situation.
Gack, it must be 25º in here, I thought as I swung out of bed. When I opened the door to get the newspaper, a cool breeze
greeted me. I unlocked the door and walked out along the porch. In the waxing light, a last-quarter moon shone near the zenith.
I guessed the temperature was in the upper teens, and a glance at my thermometer confirmed it.
Because it was Monday, I arose at five to do a run to prepare mitochondrial DNA in the lab. It would take about eleven hours,
so I had to get an early start. I decided to shower before I ate. It appeared to be an ordinary day in late June.
My boss, Doctor Green, arrived around ten, about the time I was separating the mitochondria in the ultracentrifuge. He asked
to seem me in his office when I could. Nearly an hour later, I walked into more adventure than I could handle alone.
"How would you like to do something different next week?" Green broached.
"What do you have in mind?"
"I've just received a letter from the University of Toronto . A geneticist named Malcolm Chrome wants me to come for a conference.
I cannot go because I have other plans for Independence Day. However, Chrome suggested I send a representative. Surely you
know enough on my research on potato mitochondrial DNA."
"I'll say," I muttered. "I've been doing it over a year."
"Fine. Then you'll be leaving on Saturday."
"Wait a minute," I objected. "Saturday's Dominion Day. Will I have trouble traveling on that day?"
"I don't think so. I'll check when I buy the plane ticket."
Saturday is also Keith's birthday, I thought as I left the office. Too bad he didn't live to see it.
Saturday the First dawned just like any other day. I could feel the heat when I first arose. I hoped Toronto would prove cooler
than State College.
I had just brought my suitcases down the stairs when Green's car pulled up. To my surprise, in the front seat sat Tim Miskey,
an undergraduate majoring in genetics and biophysics. Tim turned his lentiginous and somatotonic visage into a smile.
"Tim, what're you doing here?"
"I can't resist a genetics conference," he replied simply while nodding his ruddy blond hair.
I laughed at this remark, and we enjoyed each other's company the rest of the way. Normally it takes eight hours to drive
to Toronto. On a jet we were there before noon. Green had reserved a double room for Tim and me, so we dropped off our suitcases
at the hotel before we headed for the university. After a quick lunch, we walked a few blocks to the conference. This genetics
exhibition began at noon, but we did not have to arrive until two o'clock for the Chrome seminar.
Tim and I reached the room about five minutes to two. It was set up for thirty with tables in an oblong and the chairs on
the periphery. We inconspicuously drifted toward the far end until Tim noticed the placards. Chrome had placed "Green and
guest" at the front on the right. We had wanted to be humble, but circumstances made us presumptuous. Almost embarrassedly
we accepted our fate and sat at the reserved spot.
Just after we settled ourselves, a quinquagenarian entered the room. He looked like a typical professor: wild, pullback hair
surrounding a tonsure. He peered at Tim and me through his Franklin eyeglasses.
"Neither of you look like Paul Green," he announced in a stentorian voice.
Tim's Celtic skin became wan as he sat speechless. I turned my gaze back to the speaker. "Your letter stated that he could
send a representative," I shot back as loudly.
The man's face became quizzical. Then he recomposed himself .
"I'm Malcolm Chrome," he said simply, as though it had been obvious. "Which of you is his actual representative?" he continued
perfunctorily.
"I am George Król,: I replied somewhat superciliously, "his lab assistant. This is Tim Miskey, one of his genetics students."
"Very well," Chrome approved. "Perhaps later you could tell us about your progress on potato mitochondrial DNA."
"I will be very glad to discuss it with you after the seminar," I replied without flinching.
Chrome smiled as he realized he failed to shake my confidence.
"By all means," he perorated.
The entire seminar was tedious and anticlimactic. Chrome expressed overselfindulgence at his latest research on the AIDS virus.
"Why did Green send us to this seminar?" Tim wondered when the dreary affair ended.
"I am just as perplexed," I answered. "I have two pages of notes on AIDS before I simply stopped."
Chrome had left in hurried fashion, so we decided to roam through the exhibits and maybe an interesting seminar. Chrome was
due to speak again on Monday, so I thought perhaps we had attended the wrong one. Because it was Dominion Day, there were
few Canadians at the exhibits.
A DNA model, two meters high, caught our eye. We strolled over to check its accuracy. Because my eyelevel was nearly at the
top of the model, I began observing there.
"What's the basepairs at the top?" Tim called from below.
"It looks like guanine-cytosine."
"Hey, George," a familiar voice interrupted. "What're you doing here?"
I pivoted to face Joe Tunk. Wordlessly we embraced. After five seconds we disengaged.
"I'm here as the representative of the professor for whom I work at the university. This is Tim Misky, one of his geneticist
students. Tim, this is Joe Tunk, my friend from the Wilkes-Barré area. Joe's an organic chemist."
"Pleased to meet you," Joe extended a hand.
"Whew," Tim sighed lugubriously as they shook hands. "I was afraid I'd have to hug you too!"
After we chuckled, I explained the situation.
"Joe and I have become closer since the death of one of our mutual friends, Keith Cahill. Last November I was heavily involved
in a case in State College, which I call the "Staid Stadium". Joe and Keith had come for the final game of the season with
the Pitt Panthers. We were chasing the mastermind of the local gambling syndicate and an old nemesis of mine. This nemesis,
named Renchberg, grabbed Keith and dragged him away as a hostage. Almost a week later we found Keith's jacket near a precipice
along with his wallet, a comb and a half liter of blood on the ledge."
By then I was emotionally drained and halted.
"We never found Keith's body," Joe continued.
Anxious to change the subject, Tim asked Joe, "What brought you to Toronto?"
"There's a geochemistry conference here. I just finished a thesis on how heat and pressure can hydrogenate limene."
"What in the world ever possessed you to take on geochemistry?" Tim queried.
"That is a long story. I tell you what. Why don't I narrate while we explore the exhibition?" Joe suggested.
"Capital idea," I concurred. "It'll give you a chance to know each other better while I learn some geochemistry."
The rest of the afternoon rushed past. On Sunday the Second, Tim and I toured Toronto. Chrome's lecture on Monday the Third
was just about as boring as the one on Saturday. In fact, Tim fell asleep and even I dozed off. However, this time Chrome
did speak to me after the seminar on potato mitochondrial DNA.
"You might be interested om what I have discovered about the AIDS virus. Could you come to my office tonight?"
"Well, Tim and I were planning to leave tonight for the Independent celebrations," I objected.
"Is there any reason why Tim can't go and you can catch a later plane?"
"No," Tim reassured me. "Go ahead, George. You are Green's assistant. If you could procure more information, he'd be pleased.
It's a short ride. I can amuse myself."
"Very well," Chrome concluded. "I can give you a guided tour about eight tonight. Here's my office number and telephone number.
Until tonight."
On the way out, we met Joe again.
"Well, so long. Tim and I will be leaving here soon."
"So will I. In fact, tomorrow I'm going to State College. Maybe we can take the same plane."
Tim and I stood aghast.
":By all means" I agreed. "When is the time tomorrow?"
Tim gave me a wince.
"You don't think I'm leaving tonight now, do you?"
About five minutes to eight, I approached Chrome's office alone. Joe and Tim decided to have one night on the town while I
attended more serious business. I found no one at the door as I heard the hour strike. Curiously, I opened the unlocked door
and peered inside.
Perhaps he's been detained, I thought. Then I felt a blow to my nape and slumped to the floor in the dark.
The next thing I felt was a chilly breeze. As my head cleared, I realized that I was in a cave. I rolled over, sat up, and
pulled myself up along a stalagmite. While taking deep breaths, I soon could see my new environment. Everything looked dank
and unearthly: rocks, stones, stalactites, stalagmites, and a figure in the far corner.
A moan intensified my attention, and I glided toward the figure. It looked like a short, dark man lying prone on the cave
floor.
"Hey, fellow," I salutated. "What're you doing here?" I rolled him over to view the ventral side of Keith! The shock had truncated
my speech, but it also dawned on me that we were in considerable danger. In a flash, I knew we were up against my archfoe,
Renchberg!
Keith smiled weakly, just enough to reveal his dimples.
"It's good to see you again, despite the circumstances."
I stood him up, and we embraced a full minute while I pondered what the circumstances were. I sat him down and so inquired.
Keith narrated as rapidly as he could.
"Renchberg took me in a helicopter out of Happy Valley. He left my jacket, wallet, and comb on that precipice. I don't know
where he procured it, but he took a half-empty liter of human blood and spilled it around the area.
"The next thing I remember I was a prisoner in a Toronto winter. In late March, this crazy professor showed up and said I
was a fine specimen for his AIDS research. Two months later, they sedated me and put me in this cave. This professor then
triumphantly arrived and announced that his AIDS strain would kill off all the t-lymphocytes in seven weeks instead of seven
years. They injected me with this serum about five weeks ago. I've been sick twice, and now I have pneumonia!"
"How do you know you have pneumonia?"
"This professor examined me a few days ago and said so. He was absolutely elated. What is the actual date today?"
"When did they bring me here?"
"late last night"
"I would think then that today's Independence Day. Here we are spending it in a foreign country."
"If today be Independence Day, then..."
"Yes, I know," I caught Keith's drift, so I embraced him again. "Happy birthday, little buddy. Sorry I didn't bring anything."
"Just seeing you was worth it."
"Ironically, I came to Toronto on Saturday. Renchberg must've planned it that way. Now it's time for us to plan to get out
of here."
"It's no use, George. I've searched this cave many times. The only way out is that adit."
Fresh air filtered from the cracks around a door about fifty meters away. Figuring the door was locked, I snatched a lamp
and began exploring the back of the cave, leaving poor Keith in the dark.
Our foes did not count on the sequence of events which ensued that week. Tim had gone to the motel room very late after a
night of carousing and had not noticed that I was not there. About ten o'clock, he awoke with a lingering reminder of the
adventure. Tim's tongue felt like a sock, and his stomach felt sour. Still slightly dizzy, he stumbled into the bathroom.
A mirror glared back at him. His blue eyes couldn't see straight. His Titian hair was far more tousled than he wore it. He
stuck out his tongue and said, "Blech". The self-amusement works as he laughed at his visage. At least I still have my dimples,
he mused as he started the shower.
Tim had almost finished rinsing when he heard the knocking. The knuckles persisted as he toweled himself dry.
"Patience," he yelled to the intruder. "Just a minute. I'm still wet!"
Wrapping the towels around his body, he looked for a cover. When Tim went into the closet, he found my bathrobe. He threw
it on, despite its draping nearly to the floor. A thought to ask me permission occurred when Tim noticed the other bed was
still made. Finally, he answered the door. Joe stood on the stoop impatiently.
"Come on, you guys. Our plane leaves at noon!"
"I'm sorry, Joe. I just slept in. George didn't wake me."
"Is George ready?"
"I guess so," Tim yawned. "His bed's already made."
"Where'd you get that robe?" Joe laughed.
It was so big on him that its short sleeves nearly covered his freckled arms.
"I'd forgotten to bring my own."
"Wait a minute," Joe stopped. "Where is George?"
Then it dawned on Tim.
"I don't remember seeing him since he left for Chrome's office."
"Do you remember which clothes he was wearing yesterday?" Joe asked as he entered the room.
They searched the suitcases and found the bed undisturbed.
"We'd better contact the authorities," Joe concluded. "George doesn't make beds like that."
I was examining the rocks in the back of the cave and found something interesting when Keith approached me.
"It's almost prandial time."
"Huh?"
"They'll be coming soon!" he insisted.
"We must get back before they suspect what you're doing," Keith added while taking the lantern to lead me back.
We had just sat down when the door opened, and the outside light invaded the chamber. I squinted at the three figures who
silhouetted the brightness.
"All the comforts of home?" Renchberg's voice called out. "It's nice of you to visit us, Król, especially at the end of your
life!"
"Now you will believe in my discovery," Chrome interjected. You two will be famous as the first victims of my AIDS virus."
"Keith already told me of your AIDS virus," I shot back.
"I don't mind that your buddy told you about my fast-acting virus. Neither of you will live to tell others. I intend to make
a fortune with this virus. Soon it will destroy t-lymphocytes completely in seven days. After I injected Cahill five weeks
ago, I took the virus and cloned it further. After he dies, I'm going to inject you with it."
"What's your role, Renchberg?" I asked.
"The same as mine," the other voice answered. By then I could resolve the outline of the notorious Madame Lee, another archfoe
who had also escaped from justice in State College nearly two years ago.
"It's simple. I'll get the pleasure of your suffering while I finish my triumph in selling superconductivity secrets to the
highest bidder!"
"So, you see," Renchberg finally spoke. "We have you completely in our power. And to make your lives more miserable, we have
a surprise."
"Oh, yes," Chrome joined. "We should have bound them just in case.
"Cahill may have been so coöperative, but you can't trust Król. Tomorrow, we'll chain them to each other and to the cave just
to be sure," Renchberg mused. Then he pulled out a pistol and touched my left parietal bone.
"Hold out your arms!"
They bound our wrists in front of us and securely tied our ankles. Madame Lee threw rations at us.
After we ate, they gagged us in the dark. I awaited my eyes to adjust while I evaluated the situation.
"It's no use," Joe reported disgustedly. "George is no missing person until he'd disappeared for seventytwo hours."
"I was afraid of that," Tim admitted as they bolted from the precinct station. "So, what's our next move?"
"Our only lead is Chrome. Perhaps he can help us find George," Joe vocalized the mutual thought.
It was late afternoon as they headed for the university. Both were happy to be outside the United States, else they'd have
to wait until after the national holiday to search for Chrome.
Tim led the way down the hall to Chrome's office. As he approached the door, a tall man come out of the office. Tim paused
to ask Joe what to do, but Joe had disappeared! Perplexed at the incident, Tim backtracked, following the man. Just as the
man turned the corner, Joe grabbed Tim's collar. Tim whirled like a dervish to face Joe, but before he could speak, Joe whispered,"
That was Renchberg!"
They began creeping toward the door when the knob turned, and a short woman emerged. Madame Lee word a tress and a snood and
looked like a librarian. Nonetheless, neither party had ever met, so they passed as strangers in the hallway.
"Wow," Joe remarked as he glanced back as they arrived at Chrome's office door, "What is this -- Grand Central Station?"
The interior was dark, suggesting no one was there. The guys looked at each other, unsure of the next move. They knew they
couldn't ask Chrome about me, for it would only cause suspicion. No, Joe decided. We have only one option left, and we're
going to hang onto it as tightly as possible.
Once my eyes had adjusted to the paucity of light, I scanned for a sharp rock. A stalagmite, about thirty meters
toward the adit, provided a perfect target. I began rolling toward it while I expected Keith also to be searching for a sharp
edge. By then the intensity of the outside was waning, which indicated afternoon. Our best chance lay in our escape around
nightfall.
It seemed endless as I alternatively sawed and pulled on my wrist bonds. The light had dimmed considerably when the bonds
became movable. I was ready for the homestretch spurt when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Keith was grinning.
"I beat you, and I'm sick," he beamed. I was in no position to argue that they could have tied him less tightly!
"Are you sure the egress is impassable?" I asked as Keith loosed me.
"Well, you try it while I light a lamp."
A few minutes later I confessed reluctantly, "It would take far too long to pick this lock, especially when we have another
option."
"Another option," Keith echoed.
"Let's go back to where you found me this morning, and I'll show you."
We scurried back to the place where I had spotted a camber in the wall. It was still there between a group of helictites and
a curtain.
"If my knowledge of spelunking be correct, we should be near an aven. This area at our feet is a flowstone. I think behind
this huge column is our escape," I reported.
Keith just stood there speechless. Nevertheless, he joined me as we kicked at the wall. I then slammed a foot flat against
the wall, and it cracked!
Water began to flow through the cracks. I grabbed my little buddy, and we retreated some ten meters. We could hear the wall
succumb to the pressure of the cave pearl formation pool. About ten meters away, we leapt over a streamway and paused as the
water dropped out of our path.
We rested a good twenty minutes while the water passed and evaporated. Then we returned to the rubble. The hole was just gaping
enough for us to dodge through it. As we could see the dusk above us. The hydrocreated canyon was only six meters deep, but
only two meters up. Fortunately, there were enough irregularities in the walls for us to climb.
I boosted Keith up, then I climbed to the level as Keith sent higher. We reached the top in time to see the canyon fill with
darkness. Third-magnitude stars were already out. Our task was to locate our position, and to escape our adversaries. Polaris
was clearly visible, so we went the opposite way. The night air was stifling, even this far north. Nonetheless, we persisted.
We were walking some two hours when Keith began coughing violently. I figured by that time we had gone through enough woods
to stop for the night. I carefully marked the direction, and we fell asleep on pine needles.
"Wake up, Tim!" Joe whispered hoarsely into Tim's ear. "Chrome just went into his office with those two we saw last night!"
"Ugh," Tim complained. "We could've spent the night in the hotel."
Indeed Joe and Tim had spent that night in a closet across the hall from Chrome's office. It was eleven o'clock the next morning,
almost sixteen hours after they had arrived. Each had had about eight hours' sleep, split in four-hour shifts.
Chrome came out of his office alone. Joe decided to follow him while Tim watched for Renchberg. Chrome appeared to be carrying
a large lunchbox. Joe followed Chrome to a flamingo-red pickup truck.
Chrome shoved the box under a huge blanket covering the flatbed. As soon as Chrome left, Joe ducked under the blanket.
Meanwhile, Lee and Renchberg were arguing about the kind of shackles to take along. Once Tim realized that Chrome was going
with them, he disregarded the surveillance and left to tell Joe.
He had heard the conveyance was a truck in the faculty parking lot, so he raced outside to find Joe's coming back from it.
There was only one truck in the lot, yet Joe was nowhere around. Tim figured that Chrome must have left the lunchbox in the
truck because Chrome was not carrying it when Tim ducked out of the way.
Tim was about two meters away from the flatbed when he heard Joe call from under the blanket.
"What are you doing under that blanket?" he asked astonishedly.
"Chrome's going to drive us to George," Joe replied simply. "Get under here!"
"I'd better because they're coming with shackles," Tim added. "With us, George has a chance."
No sooner had Tim gone undercover when they heard the sinister threesome approach. Renchberg just missed Tim's jaw when he
pushed the manacles under the blanked. Then all five were off!
The detectives endured the jouncing ride through dirt roads. The raised dust proved stifling and added to the tediousness
of lying on the flatbed. Both Joe and Tim peeked backwards as much as the bouncing blanket allowed. About a writhing halfhour
later, the truck stopped.
The threesome continued to be unaware of the stowaways as they pulled their accoutrements out from under the blanket. Madame
Lee, who was at the correct height, had already gone to the adit with keys in hand, so she didn't see them.
As both Chrome and Renchberg reported their nefarious plans to unseen ears, Joe began calculating the right time to surprise
their adversaries. Suddenly he heard Lee call the men to the cave.
"They're gone?" Renchberg yelled incredulously. "They couldn't be gone. We tied they up well. There's no other way out of
the cave!"
"Maybe Król had found a way out," Chrome replied sardonically. "After all, you said he could."
Tim almost rose when he realized that Joe had been right, but Joe tranquillized him with a pat on the buttocks. Nonverbally
Joe gave him a sign for patience. Tim lay down again.
After Chrome and Renchberg moved out of earshot, both hitchhikers wriggled off the flatbed.
"What'll we do now?" Tim wondered.
"If George had escaped, we could look for him in this truck..." Joe began before he noticed Chrome had taken the keys!
I had difficulty awakening Keith. We had been so exhausted from our ordeal in the cave that we slept well after the sun had
arisen. It must have been seven o'clock when its rays roused me.
Keith lay asleep two meters away. Although he had on no cover, the temperature was already in the twenties. Nonetheless, I
wondered about his pneumonia. I decided to scout around for some breakfast.
"Wake up, little buddy," I shook Keith. "How're you feeling this morning?"
He gave me a weak smile and said, "Better, thanks to you."
"Let's eat and get on our way," I urged.
"Where're we going?"
"First, we must escape our fiends. Then I must get you to a hospital to treat your pneumonia."
Keith frowned enough to reveal his gelasins. "What's the use if I should have AIDS?"
"We don't know that. Let's cross one bridge at a time."
After we had some berries and water, we continued southward. About midmorning I began to receive bad vibrations that we would
not find help soon. The temperature nearly thirty as the sun shone in a cloudless sky. To my joy, we found a dirt road about
an hour later. Perhaps we can flag down help, I thought.
Renchberg was still imprecating as they exited the cave.
"We must find them," he fumed. "This time we kill them immediately!"
"But my experiment..." Chrome protested.
"Screw your research!" Renchberg roared.
"How're we going to find them?"
"I don't know about you," Lee interrupted. "But I'm going to get out of here!"
If we had injected Król with Cahill's blood, I'd at least have the satisfaction of knowing that both will die," Renchberg
added. "I don't give an iota about your research. Right now I want you to drive us back to Toronto. Król and Cahill may have
escaped before dark yesterday. If so, they may have contacted the authorities by now."
"Okay," Chrome agreed as he opened the cab door. "Get in while I put our gear in the flatbed."
Chrome placed the lunchbox and the shackles under the blanket gently, so Tim easily moved out of the way. Once back inside
the cab, Chrome gunned the engine, backed up, and took off.
They were almost to Toronto when they saw some hitchhikers along the road. Chrome thought nothing about them until he looked
at them in the rearview mirror. His agape expression caused Renchberg to whirl around.
"It's they!" he shouted. "Reverse and get them!"
The two figures appeared oblivious to the flamingo-red truck until Chrome began a reversal. When the truck was twenty meters
away, Renchberg jumped out with a pistol
"Get over here, Król."
Keith an I had been strolling along embraced in reverie. When I realized what had happened, it was too late to run.
"It was good while it lasted," Keith admitted as he hugged me once more.
"I'm not going to play around like Chrome," Renchberg continued as we approached him. "Which one wants to die first? Better
yet, I'll kill you both together in that embrace!"
I was still ten meters away from Renchberg, too far away to rush him. Chrome and Lee continued to observe from the cab. Only
Lee expressed enjoyment.
"If you let me in front of you, I'll take the bullets, and maybe you can feign death,: Keith suggested.
Before I could deny the request, the blanket behind Renchberg in the flatbed rose and dropped over his head. Tim jumped on
Renchberg, and the revolver discharged into the air. Joe landed a punch into the solar plexus, and the gun flew into the woods.
Keith rushed to slug Renchberg, but Lee intercepted him and threw him.
Meanwhile, I rushed Chrome before he could drive away. He just missed fracturing my skull with a hammer he had thrown at me
from the cab. Lee then jumped me from behind, and I went down into the ditch. Lee then stalked Tim as he and Joe battled Renchberg.
She also flipped him into the ditch and dived into the woods after the pistol.
Joe was still hitting the blanketed Renchberg when he saw Lee with the pistol.
"Run for it!"
I easily eluded Chrome and flew in the direction where Lee had thrown Tim and Keith. Joe joined me, and the four of us were
scurrying for our lives in the Canadian woods.
"Let's split up and meet back here after we shake them," I advised. "The three of them can't follow the four of us."
Renchberg retrieved his pistol from lee and stalked me. Lee and Chrome split up to hunt Joe and Keith, respectively. I hoped
Tim would escape.
Even with my lead, I was still only thirty meters away from Renchberg. He fired a shot which grazed my head. It was close
enough to smart as I fled the madman. When I saw a glen ahead, I almost cursed. I ran parallel in the woods until I reached
a short glade. I knew if I turned back, I might meet one of our other pursuers.
With a great heave, I bounded into the glade. Even though it exposed me temporarily, I would have the advantage when Renchberg
was still in that conspicuous area. Renchberg did have two good shots. One hit the tall weeds directly in front of me about
five meters. The second one nicked a tree two meters away as I left the glade and returned to the woods.
I realized that I had made two right turns from south to north, so I entered the woods for ten meters and sharply turned left.
It worked; I shook Renchberg. I had a quick glance as he crossed my trail forty meters away. I kept going to make sure I'd
lost him.
About another hundred meters, I approached a fence. I jumped it and kept going. I heard someone's coming in my direction.
I finally slackened my speed. I was almost walking when I head a pistol hammer click . I pivoted into the direction.
"You're on Canadian government property," the man behind the pistol yelled. I just stood there frozen until I saw the opportunity.
"Am I glad to see you," I replied.
"We'll see when I get you to headquarters."
Madame Lee charged at Joe, jumped on him, and clawed at him. Joe endeavored to roll her off him, but she grabbed him into
a headlock. Joe slammed his heel onto her foot, releasing the lock. While Joe pondered an attack, Lee took a karate stance.
Any further combat became synthetic when a bullet whizzed a meter over Joe's head.
Without a glance or a word, Joe made a strategic withdrawal and bounded into the woods as Madame Lee stood there stunned.
"Renchberg, you almost shot me," she protested. "Where's Król?"
"Król eluded me!" Renchberg fumed. "Let's get out of here!"
"What about Chrome?"
"Forget him. He left the keys in the ignition."
Both arrived at the tarmacadam soon after they left us in the dust. They reached Toronto and executed their escape plan within
the hour.
Chrome was chasing Keith only a short distance when Keith realized the situation. He stopped and faced Chrome. Despite the
age difference, Chrome continued to approach Keith. Keith looked Chrome over and planned a complacent move. Chrome stretched
out his right hand and rotated the index finger.
"Come on, son. It's time to die," he taunted.
Keith was about to lead with a right hook when Tim yelled, "He's got a knife!"
Chrome had been aiming at Keith's heart, measuring the proper distance as Keith attacked. The warning caused Keith to pause
and Chrome to retreat.
"Follow me, and I'll get you."
"Never mind him," Tim dismissed Chrome. "We have to regroup before they escape."
The officer showed impassible eyes.
"You expect me to believe this story?"
"Chrome will win no panegyrics from geneticists when this caper gets out," I continued. "Why do you think I was glad to run
across authority? You've provided an adscititious source we need to incarcerate two dangerous criminals and one warped scientist."
"I can take no action if any of your group should stay off the grounds. However, I can notify the local authorities to investigate."
"Thank you, officer. Please have them take Keith to a hospital to treat his pneumonia.
Another Mountie picked up the conversation.
"Do you think Chrome actually cloned and engineered the AIDS virus?"
"Well, my professor Green is no expert on this specific subject. Nonetheless I have spoken to other geneticists, and they
ae divided on the subject. I just hope Keith is alright."
"How bad is his pneumonia?" the second official continued the conversation while the chief telephonically notified the local
authorities.
"Under normal circumstances, I'd say his condition is serious. If he had AIDS, his condition be critical."
"Mister Król," the chief broke into the conversation. "Should we notify the Toronto police?"
"By all means, Chief. I'm ready to sign an affidavit for search warrants. I wish I knew where Renchberg and Lee were staying."
"Wait a minute," I truncated my thoughts. "They may be on their way back to Toronto already. Renchberg might not remain in
the forest once he realizes that he lost me. Can I swear out an affidavit here for arrest warrants?"
The chief smiled at me.
"We can pick them up for questioning just on what you said. Remember, we have a Canadian version of Miranda, so be careful
when you confront them."
"Well, it looks as though they'd escaped," Tim frowned as he and Keith observed the site where Chrome's pickup had been.
"Hey, guys," Joe shouted as he emerged from the woods. "Have you seen George?"
"No," Tim denied. "Both Renchberg and Lee have left in the pickup, probably with Chrome."
Joe joined them at the site.
"I thought you were dead," he confessed as he embraced Keith.
"Now we must decide what to do next," Tim stimulated the situation. "For all we know, George could have gone with them or
contacted the authorities."
"Never mind, Tim", Keith beamed as he put his right hand on Tim's left shoulder. "Turn around and meet the local police."
"Good news, Mister Cahill," the doctor announced. "The antibiotics are working well. You can go home tomorrow."
Keith flashed his dimpled smile.
"I'm glad to get out of here. My hosts weren't exactly hospitable."
While the laughter echoed in the room, I saw the doctor out.
"How far advanced is the AIDS?" I whispered.
The medical professional raised his eyebrows.
"We found only negative tests."
"Then Keith doesn't have AIDS."
"Apparently that flagitious geneticist goofed."
"The police the Chrome lab late this afternoon. There was AIDS virus," I protested.
"Oh, I know it," the good doctor confirmed. "I tested Chrome for AIDS. He has it!"
I paused to digest this revelation.
"Talk about poetic justice," I muttered.
"Nonetheless, you should have Mister Cahill AIDS tested every six months up to two years to be sure he doesn't have the virus."
"I surely will. Thanks, Doc."
"Well, Keith," I announced lugubriously. "We're going to have to leave you here. I couldn't get you a plane ticket."
"That's okay. I already ordered one," Keith countered. "I have a seat on the wing. Did they catch Renchberg and Lee?"
"They were sly. They evidently split up and left Canada in opposite directions."
"I don't know about you guys," Tim piped in. "But I'm going to rest until the Arts Festival once I get back in State College."
"That gives me a good excuse to visit George," Keith added with a wink. "Salubrious reasons, of course."
"Do you suppose we'll ever see Renchberg or Lee again?" Joe speculated.
"One never knows," I dubitated.
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