Free Mutation by Robin Cook Page B

it out. Victor, obviously irritated, stared at Marsha, but her strength began to wear him down. Her position was clear, and by experience he knew she'd not be apt to change her mind. After sixty seconds of silence, his stare began to waver. Finally he looked down at his hands. The grandfather clock in the living room chimed eight times.
         "All right," he said finally as if exhausted. "I'll tell you the whole story." He sat back and ran his fingers through his hair. He established eye contact with Marsha for a second, then looked up at the ceiling like a young boy caught in a forbidden act.
         Marsha felt a growing sense of impatience and concern about what she was about to hear.
         "The trouble is I don't know where to begin," Victor said.
         "How about at the beginning," Marsha suggested, her impatience showing again.
         Victor's eyes met hers. He'd kept the secret surrounding VJ's conception for over ten years. Looking at Marsha's open, honest face, he wondered if she would ever forgive him when she learned the truth.
         "Please," Marsha said. "Why can't you just tell me?"
         Victor lowered his eyes. "Lots of reasons," he said. "One is you might not believe me. In fact, for me to tell you we have to go to my lab."
         "Right now?" questioned Marsha. "Are you serious?"
         "If you want to hear."
         There was a pause. Kissa surprised Marsha by jumping up on her lap. She'd forgotten to feed him. "All right," she said. "Let me feed the cat and say something to VJ. I can be ready in fifteen minutes."
        
         VJ heard footsteps coming down the hall toward his bedroom. Without hurrying, he closed the cover of his Scott stamp album and slipped it onto the shelf. His parents knew nothing about philately, so they wouldn't know what they were looking at. But there was no reason to take any chances. He didn't want them to discover just how large and valuable his collection had become. They had thought his request for a bank vault more childish conceit than anything else and VJ saw no reason to make them think otherwise.
         "What are you doing, dear?" Marsha asked as she appeared in his doorway.
         VJ pursed his lips. "Nothing really." He knew she was upset, but there was nothing he could do about it. Ever since he was a baby he realized there was something she wanted from him, something other mothers got from their children that he couldn't give her. Sometimes, like now, he felt sorry.
         "Why don't you invite Richie over one night this week?" she was saying.
         "Maybe I will."
         "I think it would be nice," Marsha said. "I'd like to meet him."
         VJ nodded.
         Marsha smiled, shifted her weight. "Your father and I are going out for a little while. Is that okay with you?"
         "Sure."
         "We won't be gone long."
         "I'll be fine."
         Five minutes later VJ watched from his bedroom window as Victor's car descended the drive. VJ stood for a while looking out. He wondered if he should be concerned. After all, it was not usual for his parents to go out on a weekday night. He shrugged his shoulders. If there was something to worry about, he'd hear about it soon enough.
         Turning back into his room, he took his stamp album from the shelf and went back to putting in the mint set of early American stamps he'd recently received.
         The phone rang a long time before he heard it. Finally, remembering that his parents were out, he got up and went down the hall to the study. He picked up the receiver and said hello.
         "Dr. Victor Frank, please," the caller said. The voice sounded muffled, as if it was far away from the receiver.
         "Dr. Frank is not at home," VJ said politely. "Would you care to leave a message?"
         "What time will Dr. Frank be back?"
         "In about an hour," VJ answered.
         "Are you his son?"
         "That's right."