Chapter Twelve
It is said that twins have a unique, even clairvoyant connection. I have never delved into that realm, at least not to my knowledge. Still, I sense something horrible is going to happen to my brother. In fact, I’m certain of it.
—Francella Watanabe
For two decades Francella Watanabe had done her best to forget her son and only child, to set aside the fleeting images she’d had of him as a newborn baby, the dangerous, unintended glimpses she’d stolen before having him removed from her sight and taken away forever.
Now, a burly guard escorted Francella into a side entrance of the prison where her son was incarcerated. She felt leaden, uncertain if she wanted to go through with this. But she kept pace.
In due course, Francella had learned the name given him by his foster parents—Anton Glavine—along with bits and pieces about what he was doing and where he was. She’d heard he was a member of Noah’s interplanetary environmental force, and eventually that Noah and Anton were holed up on the orbital Eco Station. They had fled there after an incident in which her own CorpOne forces—in a joint venture with the Doge’s Red Berets—attacked her brother’s Ecological Demonstration Project. She’d known her son was on the orbiter but had wanted to destroy it anyway, since her hatred for her brother was so much greater than any love she felt for Anton.
But Lorenzo, upon learning of Anton’s whereabouts, had refused to attack the orbiter. Anton was his son, too. What an unfortunate set of circumstances. She had thought for sure that she would kill her brother there, finally cornering him and wiping him out of existence. It had been an infuriating wrinkle in her plans.
Then, in another unexpected twist that followed, she had seen Anton Glavine at the Canopa pod station where she’d encountered Noah only moments before. She had been trying to kill her brother again, this time by shooting him in the chest, but like a demon, Noah had come back from the dead and regenerated his flesh. Damn him! In all the commotion Anton had been arrested and taken into custody by the Red Berets.
Since that time Francella had been thinking about her son, unable to get his face out of her mind. After all these years, seeing her own child! He’d grown into a fine-looking young man, with features that reminded her of Doge Lorenzo.
Following Anton’s arrest she had obtained a DNA test on him to be certain, and it confirmed his parentage, showing the undeniable genetic markers. Francella had paid to keep the report secret, but apparently no amount of money was enough for that. She should have known that nothing was secret from the Doge, especially when it concerned his own son.
Lorenzo had brought the report to her himself, slapping it down in front of her. It had not changed anything. For months the two of them had assumed Anton was their son based upon available information, and now they knew for sure.
The Doge might even know what she was doing at this very moment, wearing a black cape as she hurried through the dark of the night. If so, he wasn’t doing anything to stop her.
The guard pointed down a rock corridor and allowed Francella to walk through it by herself. As instructed, she halted at the end, and peered through the soft orange glow of the electronic containment field of a cell.
Anton sat in orange illumination, on the edge of his bunk. His blond hair was combed straight back, and he had a bound copy of the quasi-religious Scienscroll open on his lap. Looking up at her, he quoted from one of the verses: ‘“The night washes men’s souls; it is the time of true honesty.’”
She considered the passage, recalling a bygone time when her late mother had read such verses to her and Noah in their childhood, while they sat at her feet. The words sounded familiar.
“I know who you are,” Anton said, “and I have no more feelings for you than you have ever shown for me.”
During the past two decades, Francella’s aides had sent regular support payments for her son, though she had tried to remain detached from him emotionally. But seeing him at the pod station, something had changed, making her want to see him and speak with him.
“I don’t blame you for saying that,” she responded. Then, unable to deal with her own emotions, she whirled and left.
***