Toys - James Patterson [59]
“Are you mad at Daddy?” I asked. “Did I do something I’m not aware of?”
They shook their heads, but neither girl spoke a word to me. Nor did the thoroughly creepy dolls.
“So what’s the matter with you two gremlins? You don’t seem glad to see me.”
Chloe, my four-year-old, squirmed uncomfortably. “Mommy said something really bad happened to you. She said—”
“She said we’re not supposed to talk about it,” her older sister—age six—interrupted. “We’re just glad you’re all right, Daddy. We feel nothing but love and admiration for you. You’re a hero.”
“You’re a hero!” mimicked Jessica and Jacob.
Lizbeth had probably been worked up when she explained things to our daughters, and they’d sensed her tension more than they’d heard what she actually said. Now they were just afraid. Temporarily, I hoped.
Or maybe all this strange behavior was just in my own mind—part of the anesthesia hangover.
“Something bad did happen to me. An accident,” I told the girls. “But it’s all over, and I’m fine. What do you want to do now? How about if I whip us up some”—I paused, frowning—“banana splits.” What I’d started to say was no-cal banana splits. Where had that odd thought come from? Of course the treats would be no-cal. All Elite food was. Only human food was…
“Then we could play 3-D Monopoly,” I said. “Or whatever you want. We can even play with your dolls.” Creepy critters that they are.
“I’d like to play with Daddy,” said Jessica with a leer. “Play with me, Daddy?”
Then Metallico came into the room with a silent, gliding walk that I’d never seen before. It was downright eerie, actually.
“The girls have had a busy day,” he said. “My instructions from Lizbeth are to see to it that they have their baths, then their homework, and some much needed rest.”
I didn’t like any of this, but I accepted that my judgment was probably shaky. I decided to let it go. “All right then—brush and flush!” I said to the girls.
“But first, one more hug. For good luck, for good measure, and just for fun!”
Slowly, Chloe and April came to me and granted their dad a hug. But then April said, “Good luck, Daddy,” and it sounded like she really meant it, like she knew I needed some luck.
“Good luck, Daddy!” chimed in Jacob and Jessica.
I wandered around the apartment after I left the girls, trying to get interested in the adult simulators and other toys of my own. But I was restless, I guess. I’d been cooped up inside long enough, hadn’t I? Maybe that was the problem.
A good, hard run would be just what I needed to get back to normal, to be Hays Baker once again.
Chapter 79
WHEN LIZBETH ARRIVED at the sparkling glass palace known as Agency Headquarters, the atmosphere was more celebration than anything resembling regular police business. In fact, two dozen of the Elite government’s highest-ranking officials were gathered in the main briefing room, sipping wine and cocktails. The conversations were charged with giddy anticipation of 7-4 Day.
Jax Moore met her as she came in and took her aside. “What’s the update on Hays?” Moore asked quietly as he held a trademark cigar aloft.
“Exactly what we want it to be, Jax: he thinks everything’s the same as always. He believes his hospitalization and healing followed his fall with that skunk motorcycle rider. He has no memory whatsoever of Europe. There was a blurred memory of voices overheard saying he was human, but I got him settled down.”
A smooth smile eased across Moore’s chiseled face. “I can imagine.”
Lizbeth smiled back archly. “You don’t have to imagine, do you, Jax?”
“You did your duty. Well done. President Jacklin will be very happy,” Jax Moore said then. “Now we send him after his half sister, and no matter which one kills the other, we win.”
Her smile stayed, but the slightest trace of unhappiness came into her eyes. “Of course we win. Elites have been winning every battle for thirty years. How else could this turn out?”
Moore didn’t seem to notice Lizbeth’s slight frown. “You’re the bright star tonight, Lizbeth,” he said. “Let’s get you a