IV57384

IV57384

Doug Turnbull

Contents

IV57384

Part 1 Anna Lee

Part 2 Ivy

Part 3 Brianne

Part 4 Case

Part 5 Assassins

Part 6 Vincent

Part 7 Flight

Part 8 Zephyr

Part 9 Memories

Part 10 San Francisco

Part 11 On the Town

Part 12 Plan of Attack

Part 13 D-Day

Part 14 Aftermath

Part 15 Postpartum

Part 16 Postpartum Reprised

Author’s Note

About the Author

IV57384

I’m not human, Case. She smiled, I thought a little shyly.

She is delusional.

We can understand the skepticism of Case Smithson, a self-described non-famous science writer and radio talk show host, when confronted by this revelation from a beautiful young girl he’d met in a bar only an hour before. A girl whose personality seemed to change from moment to moment, from sultry Scandinavian seductiveness, to cool, analytical brilliance, to hurt little girl. And what about this story of hers — that she traveled all the way from Norway to Louisville, Kentucky, to see him when she’d never met or even spoken to him, and that a mysterious they were pursuing her? And what was her connection to Norwegian geneticist Lars Rasmussen, whom Case knew only slightly, having never met the man in person?

Join Case and his lovely mistress, Brianne Devries, MD, on a chase that spans a continent and ends in a perilous confrontation, as they attempt to solve the Chinese puzzle that they know only as IV57384, or Ivy.

IV57384

By Doug Turnbull

Edited by Holly Kothe

https://espressoeditor.com/

Proofread and edited by Reba Hilbert

rebahilbert@gmail.com

Formatted by Yvonne Betancourt

www.ebook-format.com

Cover created by Randy Fabert

randyrfabert@gmail.com

Interior artwork created by author under license by

Picsart utilizing assorted public domain photographs.

Copyrights:

IV57384

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2019 by Doug Turnbull

All rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopied, recorded, or otherwise, without the written permission of the author.

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O, wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here!

How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,

That has such people in’t!

-Miranda; The Tempest; Shakespeare

Part 1

Anna Lee

1954. You don’t get years like that anymore. It was my favorite year.

-Narrator; My Favorite Year; 1982

01-15-1971, Friday

The house of pain. This place belongs on the Island of Dr. Moreau.

I stood outside the VA Hospital, pondering the possibility of skipping physical therapy today.

No. Micah will miss me and lay a guilt trip on me when I come in next time.

Micah Daniels was a volunteer who came in for two hours, three times a week, to work with guys like me. Apparently the VA was too poor to hire anyone, so he did it for free wherever he could scrounge up a space. Micah was a taskmaster whose motto was: If you don’t progress, you regress. I was progressing, but it was slow, frustratingly slow. I figured if Micah could volunteer, the least I could do was show up.

Plus you’re asking Dr. Combs to coffee today, Smithson.

This was an even more daunting task, but why was a mystery to me. When were you ever shy about asking a girl out?

Two painfully exhausting hours later, I was standing in front of the building again, leaning heavily on my cane. The January wind was freezing and carried an occasional flake of snow.

I looked at my watch. 12:15 hrs. No. 12:15 PM. Damn, she always leaves at noon.

By 12:20 PM, my leg and shoulder were both aching and I had decided to give up, assuming I had somehow missed her. Then she came out, except she was walking with another guy. They stopped, shook hands, and he walked one way while she walked toward me.

Let’s get it over with. I stepped up to her. Excuse me, Dr. Combs. We met once in the hallway a while back and…

She stopped walking and looked me over slowly, up and down, then up again, her eyes finally stopping on my face. Her action, like that of a horse trader appraising an animal, was the reason I stopped talking mid-sentence.

You look even better in the sunlight than you do in there.

I felt as though she had shot me with one of those paralyzing rays you see in the science fiction comics. Shorter than me, she reached up and touched the scar on my forehead and then the one on my cheek. She tipped her head.

I think they add character. Your face was too perfect before.

Think of something to say, dummy! Uh, I was going to ask you to coffee, or, or, uh, something, I finished lamely.

She looked me over again. It took you long enough to get around to it, Smithson. She shook her head slowly, pityingly. "We met in the hallway six weeks ago. Are you slow-witted?"

Uh, no, I don’t think so. Slow-witted, I mean.

So why didn’t you ask me then? I was giving you every signal I could think of, Smithson.

Uh, I dunno, ma’am.

Oh, well. At least you’re handsome. That’s something. She gently took my left arm in her hand. Come on. I’ll drive, you ride. As we headed for the parking lot, she carefully matched her pace with mine, which was pretty slow.

Where are we going?

Coffee won’t do at all. You’re taking me to lunch. How much money do you have?

About a hundred dollars.

Oh goodie! I know a place that will use up a lot of that. She flashed me a wicked smile. "You did keep me waiting for six weeks, after all."

I couldn’t think of anything to say to this. When we got to her car, she released my arm and opened her door.

Beat me to it. I cursed the cane and the bad leg.

As she began to get in the car, she saw me standing there. You’re riding, Smithson. She paused and then smiled. Oh. You can close the door for me, please. Then hobble on around and hop in.

Something about the way she made light of my game leg made me smile. Will do, ma’am. I was still smiling when I sat in the bucket seat next to hers.

Takes a lot to get a smile out of you, Smithson. We’ll have to work on that. It’s a nice smile. She laughed. I’m Anna Lee, by the way. Anna Lee Combs, MD. She offered her hand, which I shook.

Case Smithson. I felt my face flush. Oh, you already knew that.

What’s wrong with you today, Smithson? Where’s your smooth?

Smooth?

Yeah. I noticed how you talk to those nurses at the hospital. You’re smooth, but not today.

Again, I was at a loss. This is a Charger. I just noticed it’s a blue one, like in the movie.

Yep, a sixty-eight. Except I’d have ditched Steve McQueen’s pony. She hit the key and the engine rumbled to life. It had the distinctive sound of dual exhausts, and the car vibrated as it idled, like a racehorse anxious to get going. Four twenty-six Hemi, dual carbs, four on the floor, she said, tapping the gearshift. I’ve had the timing advanced a tad, so it idles a little rough, but runs better at the top end.

You seem to know a lot about cars.

Just enough to be dangerous. Buckle up! Safety first. She flashed her wicked smile again and abruptly backed out of the parking space.

In moments, we were roaring along Zorn Avenue at warp seven toward downtown Louisville. We had to be traveling well over the speed limit, and a couple of times I was afraid I’d push my foot through the floorboard.

Nervous? she asked, glancing over at my feet. I’m an excellent driver.

This struck me as a debatable assertion, but I said nothing. After negotiating the noontime traffic downtown, we pulled into the parking lot of a large multistory brick building.

This is the Pendennis Club, I said, surprised. It’s members only.

Members and their guests. I’m a member, and you’re my guest.

I’ll get your door.

She waited patiently as I moved around the Charger and opened her door. As she stepped out she said, Thank you, sir.

My leg had stiffened up during the drive over, and our progress to the entrance was slow.

Sorry I’m so slow.

She stopped walking and turned to me; her face betrayed a trace of anger. I’ve seen your medical file. And you, Smithson. If I was worried about that, you wouldn’t be here. Her expression told me not to bring it up again. Okay?

Okay, Anna Lee, I responded, a little meekly.

In a few minutes, at her request, we were led into an elegant wood-paneled and oak-floored combination dining room and billiard room.

I like pool. Maybe we’ll play for a bit after lunch. She chuckled. I’ll take whatever money you have left.

After we were seated and had ordered drinks, I commented: I notice there are only men in the room.

Yep. This is a gentlemen’s club, just like medicine. I’m a born gate crasher. I had to have the chief of medicine at the hospital sponsor me or it was no dice.

I see. Seems like a stupid policy since half the people on the planet are women. You say medicine’s the same way?

Sure, except they don’t admit it the way these guys do. She gestured around the room with her hand.

A colored waiter wearing a white jacket delivered our drinks.

How do they make it stick if it isn’t a policy?

They’re subtle. You can apply for admission to a school or for a job, and they will accept your application politely, and maybe even interview you and pretend you are under serious consideration, but eventually you get a letter saying they have selected another candidate whose qualifications better fit their organization.

I looked around the room. Kinda like the only colored guys in this club are waiters and busboys. I’ll bet they don’t have an official policy either, but I sure don’t see any colored members or guests in here.

Exactly. What do you think about all that?

It’s wrong and I’m against it. Everybody deserves a fair shake.

Simply put and spot-on.

When I was a platoon leader, that racial stuff didn’t matter to me. I wanted the best men I could get because in the end, a platoon is a team, and our lives depend on each other knowing and doing our jobs. I took a breath and looked to make sure talking about the war wasn’t putting her off. It wasn’t, and she looked interested. You don’t get any free passes in combat. You make a mistake and it will probably be your last, or worse yet, you’ll take somebody else with you.

I understand, and I’m glad to see I’ve got you beyond ‘yes, ma’am, no, ma’am.’ But I’ve seen your medical file and service jacket and know quite a bit about you, while you know almost nothing about me.

You can access all that?

I’m a doctor, I can access anything. She smiled at my disapproving expression. So let me tell you a bit about myself, Smithson.

I felt like I had finally gotten my balance with her, so I held up my hand. First let me guess.

Okay, she answered doubtfully. At that point the waiter came, and we realized we hadn’t looked at our menus. I know what I want, she said. I’ll have the medium-sized steak, rare, baked potato, and what’s the side vegetable today?

Broccoli, ma’am, he answered.

I’ll have that then, please.

And you, sir?

Yes, I’ll have the same. Only make the steak medium well. Do you have another veggie?

Green beans, sir.

That will work, thank you. And could I get a refill, please? I pointed to my empty highball glass.

Certainly, sir.

I’ll take another too, please.

Certainly, ma’am.

She looked at me expectantly.

First, you only occasionally drop your G’s, which tells me you are a country girl, but you’ve worked hard to lose the accent. Probably because you’ve lived in the north where those Yankees think if we speak Southern, we’re characters out of an Erskine Caldwell novel.

She laughed and nodded in agreement.

Next, judging by your age, I’d say you went to school up there, but moved back here after you were done with your medical training.

Right again. Case Western Reserve and later Cleveland Clinic.

Next, you’re a Southern girl, but judging by the shape of your face, you have Scottish ancestry, and your last name is Combs, both of which are very common in Eastern Kentucky, so you’re also a mountain girl. Our drinks arrived, and I took down a slug of mine.

You’re good, Smithson. Pike County, and yes, there’s more Combses up there than fleas on a dog, and we’re all cousins, sometimes by several different ways.

We laughed at this inside Kentucky joke.

And finally, judging by your clear skin, general good health, expensive education, and perfect teeth, I’d say you come from at least a modestly well off and educated family.

She shook her head, clearly surprised at the accuracy of my analysis. Daddy owns a medium-sized but profitable coal mining company and could afford to provide all the things you mentioned. I think he sent me up north so I wouldn’t marry any of the local yokels. She laughed out loud at this. There was never any danger of that, because in quality they ranged from dull and barely housebroken to ignorant and downright repulsive.

I rested my chin on my hand and regarded her, already wondering what it would be like to be married to this smart, assertive, sassy, daring, lovely blue-eyed blonde.

I’ll bet she’s as good a lover as she is at everything else.

As though she were reading my mind, Anna Lee said, I’ve reached some conclusions too. There’s actually a brain, and a pretty sharp one at that, hiding behind that pretty face and ah-shucks manner. I’m considering allowing you to take me on a second expensive date.

Ah shucks, ma’am. I smiled and deliberately raised an eyebrow. Thank you for your consideration.

Bonus points. You can be a wiseass too.

Looks like our lunch has arrived. I finished my drink and we talked as we ate.

So, what about before the army? She snickered. Your jacket only goes back so far.

Well, there’s not a lot to tell. I was born and raised in Louisville, went to Catholic school, attended EKU, was in ROTC, and graduated with a degree in business administration. I ran cross country and was on the track team. I wasn’t very fleet of foot, but I was reliable.

Biz ad? With your brains, I’d have guessed a hard science.

What makes you think I’m smart?

Just a hunch. And a glance at your AFQT scores.

Jeez, you really have been spying. Anyway, it would have been a science, but I washed out of calculus in my first semester, so I switched to biz ad. After I graduated, I went straight into the army. A few months later, I was in Nam as a platoon leader.

Your folks still here in Louisville?

No. My mother died when I was twelve, and Dad died when I was in Nam. We weren’t close. Don’t get me wrong, Dad was a good provider and I never really wanted for anything material. In fact, right now I’m living on the life insurance money he left me. I paused for a moment, unsure if I should continue. She took my hand. But, well, after my mother died, Dad drank a lot. He wasn’t a mean drunk or neglectful, but he spent his evenings and weekends in his own world, and I wasn’t really part of it. Like I said, Dad died when I was overseas, but that was really just an anticlimax. I think he actually died the day my mother died.

That’s so sad, for both of you. So where are you staying?

In the pool house that belongs to my best friend’s parents. They live out in St. James Court. Vincent is in his last year at Georgetown Law School.

That’s awfully nice of them.

Yes, Vincent and I have been friends since we got into a fight in the first grade.

What did you fight about?

I don’t even remember. I laughed. Probably whether my Willie Mays bubble gum card was worth more than his Mickey Mantle. Something totally stupid like that. Anyway, the Imperialis were like a second family for me after my mother died and my big sister got married and moved out. I spent more time at their house than at mine.

Her eyes had turned into saucers. Imperiali? As in Carmine Imperiali?

I felt my face tighten and my mouth involuntarily draw into a slit. Dammit! How many times have I seen this reaction? "Yes, as in that Imperiali." My voice had a harsh edge.

Her grip on my hand tightened. Hey, hey, no, Case. She shook her head emphatically. It sounds like they have been awfully good to you, and that’s character reference enough for me.

I laid my right hand over hers and allowed my anger to subside. We finished our meal in silence and then the waiter brought the bill, which she promptly signed and handed back to him. Before he could walk away, I asked him, How much was the bill, sir.

Forty-five dollars, sir.

Thank you. I gulped, took out my money clip, counted fifty-five dollars, and handed it to Anna Lee. "Here, I’m taking you to lunch, remember? You can give him a twenty percent tip and make a dollar profit."

She nodded her head approvingly. "He can do math, too, and in his head. She laughed. I shouldn’t tell you this, but the forty-five included the tip."

I looked at my watch. 1:45. Holy smoke! We won’t have time for pool. You only have fifteen minutes to get back.

When I went to the ladies’ room, I called in sick. I have gobs of sick time piled up and I never take vacations, so I’m not cheating them out of anything. It was just paperwork Friday this afternoon anyway.

Well, then, shall we shoot some pool, Fast Eddie? I want a chance to win back some of that dough.

No chance of that, Smithson, she said as she rose. So I’ll just hold it on account.

I won three in a row at a dollar each.

Okay, I give. What’s your secret? she asked.

There isn’t any. I just play the easiest shot on the table, no matter where it leaves me. I neglected to mention that the Imperialis had a pool table in their basement and that as teens, Vincent and I had lived down there whenever we could.

How pedestrian.

Yes, it is, but this pedestrian just won three in a row.

So, what did I do wrong? I mean, other than play against you.

You took too many hard shots trying to shoot shape or make fancy combos. Leave that stuff to the pros. Amateurs just get into trouble when they try it.

She reached into her purse and pulled out one of the fives I’d given her. Got two bucks?

Sure do, I said as I peeled off two dollars.

When she handed me the bill, I held her hand with both of mine for a bit and gazed into her blue eyes. She gazed right back, except her eyes seemed to have an almost feline look, like that of a cat looking at a mouse.

******

Is this some kind of shortcut to the hospital, or are you lost?

"I’m not lost, but you may be, Smithson," she said, again flashing the wicked smile as the Charger came to an abrupt stop in the parking lot of what appeared to be an apartment building. In minutes we were out of the car, and Anna Lee was guiding me toward the building.

Can you manage stairs? I didn’t think of them till we got here.

As long as you’re not in a hurry, I can.

After toiling to the top of the stairs with her help, I was about to apologize for taking so long, when I recalled her earlier anger and stopped myself. She let us into her apartment and led me to a couch upholstered with a gay floral print.

Here, I’ll take your coat. Sit while I make us a couple of cocktails.

I sat on her couch