"Different how?" He sat on a lab stool and folded his hands as if she were going to recite scientific findings.
"When I confronted him and scratched his car, when I was close up, he…smelled…dangerous, like I should defend myself." She didn't know how to describe it.
Hutch's eyebrows raised. "When he accosted me outside the deli, he acted like a psychotic. Bared teeth, aggressive, like he wanted to rip me apart."
"I'm sure he did." She knew that feeling. "These dreams I've been having, Hutch, they're really violent. Every single one is the same; I'm always hunting, killing…even feeding, but it's always men."
"Is that why you attacked me in your sleep?"
"Well, I was dreaming when it happened, but it's more than that. I see things that I've never seen before. Images like memories. Ice-age mammals, vistas, forests…"
"Genetic memories, you think?"
"Yes. I never really bought into that concept, but yes." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "If Derrick was always a little psychotic, these memories might put him over the edge."
"They might put anyone over the edge."
"I think it's worse than that. If he's having the same impulses I am, but isn't able to suppress them, that would explain his attack on the police and maybe even Bob." She raised a hand and flexed her claws. "This thing has evolved to make humans into…something else."
"Evolved?" He sounded dubious.
"It's specific to humans, Hutch. Think about what Bornstein said. Something in my genome has been…turned on or activated."
"Okay, I'll buy that, and if it can be turned on, it can be turned off!" He put a hand on her shoulder, her uninjured one. "That's the light at the end of the tunnel, but how does it help us now? I don't think Jasper's going to be able to use that to arrest Derrick."
Aleksi shook her head. "No, if they ever take Derrick, they'll have to kill him. I don't think his government friends are going to be able to control him."
"Maybe we should tell them that."
"Maybe." She sighed and checked the time. It was almost four AM. "If I'm going to pay another visit to Congressman Twain, I'll have to wait until tonight."
"I don't think that's a good idea, Aleksi. He'll have security all over his place. Let me talk to him." He pulled something from his pocket and held it up for her to see. It was the disfigured bullet Bornstein had dug out of her shoulder. "I think I'll show him what he's done."
"You're going to threaten him?" That didn't sound like Hutch's style.
"Oh, no. Not me." He pocketed the bullet and stepped up to her. She had to suppress the urge to step back, to flinch as he reached out to take her hand. He held it between his, warm, alive, kneading her fingers with his. "You, my dear, are going to be the threat."
Dr. Dwayne Hutchinson to see Congressman Twain." Hutch had been to the congressman's house once before. It reminded him of Persephone's family estate, which only added to his apprehension.
"Is the congressman expecting you, Doctor?" The voice from the speaker sounded bored.
"No, but tell him that I've got word on that project we were working on together, the one from Kamchatka. It's important." He smiled into the camera and took a deep breath.
"Hang on a moment, please, Doctor."
Hutch leaned back in his car seat and tried to center himself, but the recent conversation with Sergeant Jasper had rattled his calm. Both Jasper and Willis had gotten a close look at Derrick during the attack, and he wanted information. Did Penningly seem deranged? Yes. Did he ever threaten him other than the one time? No. Did he seem violent? Very much so. Did Hutch notice any distinguishing characteristics? Not really. What color were his eyes? He was wearing sun glasses.
Hutch had recounted the confrontation with Derrick as closely as he could remember, leaving out only the reference to Aleksi. That he couldn't give more details seemed to irritate Jasper. He told Hutch of the attack, the gaping wound in his partner's neck, remarkably similar to the one that killed Bob Tomlin. The conversation played back in his mind.
"Why would he attack a cop, Doctor? He can't be that stupid."
"Not stupid, Sergeant," Hutch had said. "Psychotic."
"You think Penningly's crazy, Doctor?"
"I'm not a psychologist, but a pathological fixation on revenge and lashing out violently at a perceived threat seem pretty far down the road to the funny farm."
"You think that's why he killed Bob Tomlin?"
"Revenge against Aleksi, or some kind of male territoriality, maybe."
"Why not kill her instead?"
"When a male lion takes over a pride, he kills the rival male lion and all of his offspring. He doesn't kill the females in the pride."
"Why not?"
"Because millions of years of evolution have conditioned him not to. The females are his only means to expand his genome."
"His genome? You mean he wants to…um…never mind. Penningly told us that Aleksi asked him out, but he said no. Are you saying he's got some deranged romantic intentions?"
"I'm not suggesting anything. I'm just speculating. Derrick seemed deranged to me. Nothing he's done makes sense if he really wanted me to take him on as a student."
"So what does he want?"
"I have no idea."
"Any idea why he hasn't come after you, yet, Doctor?"
There was only one answer. "No."
"Do you want protection?"
"Nothing personal, Sergeant, but I don't think it'd do any good."
The wrought iron gate before him swung open, and the voice from the speaker said, "Please drive forward, Dr. Hutchinson. Someone will meet you at the front door."
Hutch drove through, and the gate closed behind him.
Two men met him at the door; security, maybe Secret Service. Congressman Twain was scared. Good, Hutch thought as he climbed the granite steps. He should be.
"This way, Dr. Hutchinson." One of the two men opened the door and went through. The other waited to follow him.
"Thanks." Deep breaths…calm…centered.
They escorted him through the lavishly appointed house to the Congressman's office. It looked more like a library, with dark wood, ceiling-high bookshelves and an impressive desk. Twain stood as Hutch entered. He didn't smile his usual politician smile and didn't extend a hand in greeting. The door closed behind Hutch, but he knew that the two security men were standing on the other side.
"Dr. Hutchinson, please tell me you bring good news."
"I brought you a present, Congressman." He approached the desk and dropped the small piece of mangled lead onto the polished leather surface. "We dug it out of Aleksi's shoulder last night. She's not very happy with being shot."
Twain glared at the bullet, then at Hutch. "Was that a threat, Doctor? Because you will find that I do not respond well to that kind of pressure."
"And Aleksi does not respond well to assassination attempts." He refused to be intimidated by the man who had sold Aleksi like a piece of property. "They tried to kill her, Congressman. How do you think she's going to respond?"
"That did not come from me, Doctor. She told me she wanted a cure for her condition, and I gave her number to the people who are working on one. If she agreed to come in peacefully, they wouldn't have had to resort to violence."
"Violent people always rationalize their actions that way, Congressman. They didn't tell her to stop or try to subdue her, they just started shooting." Hutch could see the pulse beating in Twain's temple. It was fast. "Their attempt and your betrayal of her trust resulted in four injured assassins and one very angry young woman. She wanted to come here to talk to you personally, but I talked her out of it."
"She never would have made it through my security, Doctor."
"Did I mention the four assassins she took down like they were paper targets?" Hutch smiled humorlessly. "She could have killed them, Congressman, and didn't. By contrast, Derrick Penningly tried to kill the two police detectives who are investigating Bob Tomlin's murder last night
. Who would you really rather have on your side?"
"I was unaware of that."
"Then maybe you should start asking your friends some questions." Hutch felt the balance of power between them shift. He'd just gained the upper hand. "The police have dropped the murder charges on Aleksi. The two detectives got a good look at Derrick, though they're currently under the impression he's playing dress-up. They still don't know about the changes Derrick and Aleksi are experiencing, but if your friends don't control him, some cop's going to get lucky and put a bullet in his brain."
"I'll relay the message, Doctor."
"Good." Hutch started to turn away then turned back. "One other message you might give your friends, Congressman. If they think they can use this…infection to their advantage, they should rethink their plans."
"Why is that, Doctor?"
"Because they're playing with a fire that is more dangerous than nuclear proliferation, and they don't even know it." He pointed to the mangled bullet on the Congressman's desk. "If one introverted young woman can do that to four trained soldiers after they put a bullet in her shoulder, what do you think an army of infected soldiers could do to the human race?"
"I see what you mean, Doctor," Twain said, but Hutch didn't think he really did.
"Homo sapiens sapiens has spent a million years fighting its way to the top of the food chain, Congressman. Your government friends are very close to putting us on the endangered species list."
"It won't go that far, Doctor. I'll see to that."
"I hope your friends listen." Hutch turned away. At the door, he looked back and added, "For both our sakes."
Persephone stood aside watching the images flick one after another on the wide screen that hung suspended before Gi-gi's bed. With each image, and the continued diatribe of her cousin, Reggie, her heart slipped another inch toward the soles of her shoes.
This is a disaster. She'd stopped listening to Reggie's narrative at the first frame. She knew the story of her failure all too well.
Hacked security camera images of men in overalls and caps removing the specimen she'd been tasked with recovering from the MCZ basement laboratory flicked past. More frames of police crowded around the scene, Hutch among them, looking devastated. Police reports of the assault on one of the officers investigating the Tomlin murder. More images paraded past of men in SWAT gear shooting up a subway station, a figure in a coat and hoodie taking them down. Then finally one she had not seen before blinked on the screen, a woman in a business suit carrying a briefcase. She looked like a lawyer: ghastly hairstyle, no jewelry, minimal makeup, and a sharpness that said, "All business" on her features.
Persephone focused her attention back to what Reggie was saying.
"Inside every disaster lies an opportunity, Great Grandmother."
"What opportunity?" Persephone glanced at Reggie, then Gi-gi's unreadable features. This last image had come as a surprise. She didn't like surprises.
"This is the woman who will take over the government's project concerning the specimen and the two subjects infected by it. Her name is Buckmann. She'll be the new Dr. Johansen." Reggie glanced at Persephone, the corner of his mouth twitching. "She's our opportunity."
"Excellent." Gi-gi's thin lips stretched wide, lavender eyes turning toward Persephone. "Bring her to me."
"Great Grandmother, if she's to take over as Johansen, she's far up the chain of authority. She's dangerous in the extreme."
"And so will you be." Gi-gi's withered hand reached out to touch hers. "Dr. Johansen."
Shit! Persephone swallowed hard. She knew exactly what her ancestor had in mind, and didn't want any part of it, but she had no choice. "Yes, Gi-gi." She examined the woman's picture once again and cringed. Such dreadful hair…
40
The predator walked among his prey, a wolf in sheep's clothing prowling the ice-shrouded canyons of an urban jungle, yellow eyes flicking from beneath the ball cap he'd taken from the homeless man. It's like walking down a meat case in a supermarket. The dragon smiled behind the scarf wrapped around his face.
A woman hurried past the other way huddled in expensive layers of insulation. A whiff of perfume on the chill air, and he turned around to follow her. Her boots crunched on the ice, her coat making a swishing sound against her delicious looking legs. The dragon swallowed and licked his lips. What would she taste like? Would her flesh differ from the homeless man's? Should he exert more caution, or would a dead business woman draw no more attention than a dead vagrant?
Yes…caution. He fell back, girding his hunger, his need. He would feed after dark. It would be safer.
She rounded a corner and passed a stair to a transit station. People milled past. No one looked at him. No one saw the dragon behind the scarf and hat. His lips parted and he drew in a breath, taking in the scent of prey thick on the air. Then her scent slammed into his mind, a freight train of sensory overload.
Aleksi!
Derrick scanned the crowd, but she wasn't there. Just her scent… Hunger, yes, but something else overrode that, something deeper, more visceral. Something carnal, even more seductive than her soiled underwear in his pocket. The scent hammered through his senses into the desires of the dragon. An image flashed into his mind, a dream or memory: scales against scales, writhing, coupling, biting, clawing for purchase…warmth…release.
Derrick staggered with the force of the flood, a disturbing mixture of desire and rage. She was like him; they were both dragons. Aleksi… There might be something he needed that she could give him…or that he could take from her.
The dragon's tongue flicked out again beneath the scarf to wet his lips, to taste the air for her. Yes, Aleksi was more than just prey.
Persephone stopped the car at the security booth and handed her new identity to the guard. He swiped the card, examined the screen in his booth, then her, and handed the card back. "Do you need an escort, Dr. Johansen?"
"Yes." She didn't say thank you. Persephone would have said thank you, but she wasn't Persephone any longer.
"Someone will meet you."
She nodded and closed the car window. When the door rolled up, she drove in and picked a parking spot. By the time she got out of the car and recovered her briefcase, two armed guards were waiting for her.
"This way, Dr. Johansen."
She followed without a word. Short steps, straight back, no sway, all business… She hated this part, the first hours were always the most challenging, delving the woman's memories, mannerisms, foibles, and prejudices to assume this identity. She felt dirty, like she'd just touched something unclean and needed to wash her hands.
The memory of the transformation made her skin crawl, the cocktail of biochemicals and Mary Buckmann's genetic information that had twisted her flesh into the woman's shape, hours writhing in pain as her skin ran like melting wax, then more hours as Gi-gi gave her everything she needed, right down to the name of the boy who Mary Buckmann had dated in high-school, the memory of that horrible night after the prom, the back seat of his car, her torn dress, the slap when she said no, the rape, then the beating from her father when she got home.
Dirty… The memories that weren't hers felt like a violation, and Mary had been through enough of those. She'll wake up fine. She'll be fine. Just be her, and you'll both be fine.
The real Mary Buckmann lay in a bed beside Persephone's great grandmother, an IV of mixed medications inducing sleep and forgetfulness. She would get her life back with a gap, but she would get her life back.
Concentrate, Dr. Johansen. If you fuck this up, Persephone won't get anything back.
Persephone's escort paused at the door, and she punched in the security code from Mary's memory. It opened, and they followed her through. The schematic of the facility lay there in her mind. Business first…always business first. She strode straight to her office, or her predecessor's office for the next thirty seconds. At that door, she punched in another code and held her left thumb to the small green plate above the keypad
. The pad beeped, and the door opened.
"Stay here," she told her escort.
"Yes, Doctor."
She stepped inside and met the eyes of Dr. Johansen. "I'm your replacement."
"Yes." He blinked and stood. She could see the anger, the resentment behind his eyes. "Right on time." He rounded the desk and stopped right in front of her. "Everything's coded over to you. I wish you luck."
Memories…resentment…men…slap…pain…Business. All business. "I won't need luck."
"Fine." He started for the door. "Be a bitch about it."
"I wasn't called in here to be nice to you. I was called in to clean up your monumental screw-up." She turned, expressionless, business to the core. "I don't give a damn how you feel about me, Doctor."
He flashed her a glare and left the room.
To business. She sat at the desk and keyed in her password, thumb-printed the pad beside the keyboard, and watched the flat screen come to life. She touched the icon for her assistant.
A window opened, displaying a man's round face. "Yes, Dr. Johansen?"
"I need a video conference of my section heads as soon as it can be arranged."
He tapped something off screen. "Five minutes."
"Good." Persephone—Not Persephone, Dr. Johansen!—accessed the database and reviewed their progress while she waited. They'd made almost none with regard to the mysterious genome that had infected both Derrick Penningly and Aleksi Rychenkna. That was good. She didn't want them to. The media hack to expunge the subway video of the shooting with Aleksi had been successful, including the two cell-phone videos and the security camera footage. Also good. An icon blinked on her screen, and she touched it.
"Ready, Doctor," her assistant said.
"Good." She stretched her neck and watched four more windows open on her screen: R&D, IT, Security, and Engineering. They all looked harried, but attentive. "I know you're all busy, so I'll keep this brief. This facility is no longer secure, so we'll be moving the specimens to a holding area."
Dragon Dreams Page 35