When the Wind Blows - James Patterson [108]
“The bids, Dr. Muller, shall be in multiples of one hundred million dollars,” Gillian announced.
There was a flurry of discussion, mild protests, fear that one competitor or another might have just gained some advantage.
“Gentlemen, ladies.” Gillian banged her gavel once. “These proceedings will be civilized.”
The bidders settled down. They were well-mannered, polite. Good citizens, one and all.
Gillian ran her eyes down the list of lots and back up to the spellbound audience again. The room remained silent, the competitors poised as if at an unseen starting gate. She paused briefly, as if she were considering something that she’d forgotten to tell them.
Actually, she was playing with their heads, toying with their overinflated egos. She thought that this must be how Prometheus felt right after he had stolen fire from the gods.
The atmosphere in the conference room was charged with tension, excitement, even fear. It was possible that man was about to leap forward, rather than crawl, as he always had in the past.
Gillian finally spoke again. “The reserve is eight hundred million dollars cash on Item One, AGE243, also known as ‘Peter.’ Peter is four years of age. He has very high intelligence. He’s in excellent health. He can fly.”
“Do I hear eight hundred million?”
A stentorian voice rose in the back, one of the German bidders. “One billion dollars for AGE243, little Peter, and his precious scientific papers.”
Chapter 116
MATTHEW WAS ALIVE, and he looked very well under the extreme circumstances he’d suffered during the past few days.
I had never seen Max’s younger brother before, but there was no mistaking who the boy was. He had the same blond hair as Max, though he was broader around the chest and shoulders. He had white wings with silver and blue markings. This was definitely Max’s brother, and he was impressive in his own way.
“I’m Matthew,” he said. His smile was a lot like Max’s. We had entered another room, where the children were being held. The only way in was through the “maternity ward.” The other doors were locked up tight.
“You must be Frannie and Kit. And look who else? Adam’s back from the dead.”
Gillian’s little boy shook his head sadly. “They call me Michael now.”
“Yeah, well screw Them. Right guys? Right, Adam?”
Oz, Icarus, and the twins were being kept in the smallish room. They loudly cheered and whooped. “Screw Them!”
“We’re moving out of here.” Kit interrupted the celebration. He had definitely taken charge. “We have to go right now, kids.”
There was no argument from any of us. We followed little Michael, scurrying down a couple of long underground tunnels. He seemed to know his way, and he certainly was smart as a whip. We climbed a narrow stairway leading to a heavy double door. I prayed this was a way out.
Kit pushed the door and it opened. A deafening alarm sounded over our heads. The good news—we were outside the house.
“Go! Go! Go!” I pushed and shouted behind the kids. “Scatter. Get away from the house.”
“Keep going!” Kit urged. “Don’t stare. Don’t look around. Go!”
“Going, going, gone!” Icarus called back.
“The great escape!” Oz yelled.
The kids thought this was a big adventure, and I guess that was a good thing. We were on the run again and headed toward the safety of the woods. But something was going on at the house.
We had to cross a large, graveled parking area. There were a dozen vehicles waiting in the lot. Town Cars, Range Rovers, Jeeps, minivans. Drivers were posted beside several of the cars. I’m sure they couldn’t believe what they were seeing. Who could?
Five kids with wings! Two deranged-looking adult chaperones. Everybody running!
Suddenly, I saw others emerging from the house. I recognized some doctors from Boulder, but there were men and women I didn’t know. They all wore business attire. They looked like business people. What business did they have here?
They were leaving the house in an awful hurry. Alarms were sounding loudly everywhere. Someone on the porch saw us and pointed.