Brain Child Page 0,83
miracle man of the century. But she also thinks there’s a curse on La Paloma, or some such thing.”
Mallory’s eyes widened in disbelief. “A curse? Oh, come on, Marsh, not Ellen—”
“I know,” Marsh sighed. “And I don’t think she really believes it herself. She was just upset this morning. What with Marty Lewis being killed so soon after Alex’s accident—”
“Which events have no connection whatsoever,” Mallory pointed out.
“I told her that,” Marsh agreed. “And when she thinks about it, I’m sure she’ll realize it’s true. But what’s really bugging me is Torres’s attitude.” He told Mallory about the conversation he’d had with Torres after the funeral. “And all he did was suggest that I read the release we signed.”
“And have you? I mean, since the night you signed it?”
Before Marsh could reply, the door opened, and Barbara Fannon stepped into the office, another file folder in her hand. One look at her face told Marsh that something was wrong.
“What is it? What did they say?”
Barbara shook her head, as if even she couldn’t believe what she’d been told. “They said they have all the records and that they won’t be returning them. They won’t even be returning our records, let alone forwarding copies of their own!”
“That’s impossible,” Marsh said. “They can’t do that—”
“They … they said they can, Marsh,” Barbara replied, her voice so low the two men had to strain to hear her. “They said the instructions and authorizations are very clear in the release you signed before the operation.”
“I don’t believe it,” Marsh declared. “Let’s take a look at that release.”
Silently Barbara handed him the folder. “I thought you’d want to see it,” she said. “I … well, I already read it.”
Marsh scanned the document, then went back and reread the whole thing very carefully. When he was done, he handed it to Frank Mallory.
“It won’t hold up,” Mallory said when he, too, had read every word of the agreement Marsh and Ellen had made with the Institute for the Human Brain. “There isn’t a court in the country that would uphold all this. My God, according to this, the man isn’t accountable to anybody. He doesn’t have to release any records, describe any procedures—nothing. And he can do anything he wants with Alex for as long as he wants. According to this, you’ve even given him custody of Alex. Why the hell did you sign it in the first place?” At the look on Marsh’s face, he immediately regretted his words. “Sorry, Marsh,” he mumbled, “that was out of line.”
“Was it?” Marsh asked, his voice hollow. “I wonder. I should have read it—Lord knows Torres told me to enough times. But I guess I thought it was a standard release.”
“It’s about as far from standard as anything I’ve ever seen,” Mallory said. “I think we’d better get a lawyer on this right away.”
Marsh nodded. “But I’m not sure what good it’ll do. Even if a lawyer can get it broken, it’ll take months, if not years. Besides,” he added, “even if I’d read it thoroughly, I would have signed it.”
“But it seems to me the circumstances constitute duress of the worst kind,” Mallory said. “It was either sign or let Alex die, for God’s sake! What else could you do?”
“More to the point, what do I do now?” Marsh asked.
An uncomfortable silence fell over the room, as all three of its occupants realized the position Marsh was in. Without the records, they had no idea of what had been done to Alex, but that was the least of it.
The first thought that had flashed through all their minds was simply to remove Alex from the area. But that, of course, was impossible now.
Besides not knowing what procedures had been used to save Alex’s life, they also had no idea of what treatment might still be in progress, and what the ramifications of ending that treatment might be.
It was a trap, and there seemed to be no way out.
Alex sat on the hillside, the afternoon sun warming his back even though the offshore breeze was already starting to bring the cool sea air inland. He was staring down at the hacienda, and in his memory, images were once again beginning to flash.
He seemed to remember horses filling the courtyard, then riding away toward the village.
He remembered people—his people—walking slowly away from the hacienda, carrying small bundles.
And he remembered three people who remained in the courtyard long after all the others were gone. In his memory, he couldn’t see