“Wait,” Kindra said. “When did her lack of communion begin?”
Isabelle’s mother sniffled and gathered her composure with obvious effort. “It was Tuesday.”
“Thank you,” York said. “We’ll get in touch if we need anything further.” At the regional director’s wince, York added, “The important thing is to press forward. Believe me.”
Outside, he opened the air-car’s door, then stopped as he felt the presence of watching eyes. He searched the shadows.
“What is it?” Kindra asked from the other side of the vehicle, noticing his hesitation.
“I’m not sure.” A series of gargoyle-like statues sat atop a fortress wall that cast a sable mantle over the grounds. But the spied-on feeling didn’t come from sculptures. Then he saw them: Tracers, gnat-like surveillance cameras, zigzagged from behind trees.
“Do you see something?” she asked.
York gave a nod and activated his communicator. “Captain, did you order Tracers?”
At the captain’s negative, York moved to the trunk and opened it. “Someone did.”
A hidden compartment rolled back to reveal an arsenal. He selected a catch gun. He’d snag the little flying surveillance devices with the nets.
“What are you doing?” Kindra asked.
“Going fishing.” He took aim at a buzzing object and, as if fly fishing, made his cast with the gun and netted a Tracer. He reeled it in, tossed it into the trunk, and cast another shot line.
“I’ll need to get these back to the e-lab to find out who sent them,” he said.
Kindra glanced at the darkening sky, then at her test kit. “Oh my goodness. What time is it?”
“Seven.” He shrugged. “Oh, right. Don’t you have an award ceremony to attend?”
“Yes. I am oh so excited,” she deadpanned.
York chuckled, dropped a final Tracer into the trunk, and slammed it shut. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you there on time.”
She groaned. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
* * *
In the Seville lab, Kindra couldn’t help taking a few minutes to look over the latest computer results before she headed out again. She opened one of the incubator drawers, which were made up of small, individual compartments. She removed two trays, each holding over a hundred button-sized petri dishes containing genetic samples labeled with the names of the latest children to be tested. She replaced them with new trays. Standing beside the HERO computer screen, she inserted one tray into the sequencing equipment. The screen displayed extremely magnified samples of the genomes. Her hand shook as she came across Brianna’s name.
Footsteps clicked behind her. “Anything yet?” Director Isaac asked impatiently.
She jumped. “Nothing new.”
“Better head over for your award.”
She nodded reluctantly. “Yes, sir.”
She slipped into the bathroom and quickly changed into the navy blue, fitted dress she’d brought with her and matching heels. York was waiting out front to drive her to the ceremony. She hurried out to meet him. Like a stupid award mattered when children’s lives—her child’s life—hung in the balance.
* * *
York was on his way to the precinct after dropping off Kindra when the growl of his stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten since that slice of pizza at Vi’s. He swung his air-car into Nick’s Brew and Grill and grabbed a take-out sub.
At his desk, he made short work of the sub while he reviewed the evidence. He had several holoscreens open in front of him and flipped between them. He pored over B-Gastion’s enemy list and reviewed interviews conducted by the uniformed officers. He made notes next to the names of employees at Seville.
The lights in the bullpen were dimmed, set to come on and off as someone walked through. Which rarely happened. Things were generally pretty quiet during the graveyard shift. Only one or two offices down the hall had a glow spilling out of them. The computer handled calls that came in and forwarded instructions to officers in the field. Most everyone had gone home for the night, except for those with a pressing case.
He wondered how Vi was doing with the angles she was checking out, particularly the black market connections. She had cultivated better sources than he had in that arena. If there was something to find in that direction, she’d dig it up.
A double knock sounded on the doorframe and Avery entered his office. “Saw your light on. How you doing?”
“I’ve got a dead girl, a virus, and a connection to unity sessions. They’re all linked to what killed her. I’m still working on the who and why. Maybe it’s connected to the WHO convention. It’s an angle we’re checking.”
“You look like you’ve seen better days.”
“Definitely.”
“Go home,” Avery suggested.
York thought about the way he’d fallen asleep in the communion room last night. He needed a good night’s sleep to stay on top of his game. “Yeah. I will shortly.”
“Okay. G-night.” A second later, he heard the slap of the captain’s shoes as he walked towards the exit.
York stretched and yawned. A community news excerpt came on the monitor set in the wall of his office, a report on the latest briefing about Isabelle D-Gastion’s death.
“Still no confirmation about what is happening at Regional Director B-Gastion’s home,” the reporter said. “Although we spotted Seville scientist Dr. Kindra B-Zaika leaving the home today with a police escort.” The report showed a brief clip of Kindra and York leaving the Gastions’ mansion.
So the story had officially broken.
York watched the screen segue into the news of the rich and famous. Then, a reporter captured Kindra at a podium accepting her award a few hours earlier. She looked lovely in a long, fancy dress with her hair pulled up in a flashy clip.
“I’m honored to receive the Teresa Award,” she said. “Thank you.” She kept it short and sweet. As soon as she was finished and stepped down, reporters shoved recording devices at her.
York recalled the lighthearted moment over the plant and the chess game with her daughter. A mixture of regret that he wouldn’t be able to get to know her better and anger over Danny’s death and the whole genetics social system clenched in his gut.
“Ridiculous politics,” York muttered.
* * *
He chopped vegetables with meticulously groomed hands while the news droned across the kitchen.
Kindra B-Zaika accepted the Teresa Award and thanked the committee for the honor. The cameraman zoomed in close as they broadcast the awards ceremony. She looked pretty and perfect as she smiled, tilted her head, then waved as a fan called out to her.
In a furious move, he sent the knife zinging end over end through the air. It landed with the tip buried in the head of a cabbage sitting on the counter.
“Bitch,” he growled. “Do not get in my way.”
Chapter Nine
It was eight-thirty in the morning by the time York walked into the precinct, his hand fisted around a net that strained against his hold like a dog pulling at its leash. Three active Tracers fought to get free. He entered a cubicle where two technicians were working and tossed his catch onto a desk. They jerked up their heads.
“Data these out pronto, ’kay? They probably won’t show who they belong to, but you never know.”
“Ooh, Hunter Man,” the nearest tech jeered with a chuckle.
“Ya know, I can program one of those suckers to take some up close and personal pics of you, John,” York said. “Just give me a reason.”
“I can give you five.” The other tech smiled wickedly as he aimed a remote, activating an invisible containment field around the Tracers. He singled out one Tracer, removed and deactivated it while downloading the data it stored. A series of pictures appeared on the tech’s screen.
“They were outside Regional Director B-Gastion’s house,” York explained. “I’ll take a look at the property video for the last couple of days, too.”
Th
e press most likely owned the Tracers, but they were required to have identifying labels on all surveillance devices. Anyone else would have remotely wiped the suckers clean.
“A news station?” he asked.
“How did you guess,” the tech said with a grin.
“Whatever information they recorded would have already been transmitted to a home base. So it only was an inconvenience that I’d taken them. That, and it will cost to replace them.”
York watched over the tech’s shoulder as he ran through the images of B-Gastion’s property and the streets around it. Most of the images seemed to be of a few news people looking for more on the story. Then a picture scrolled by that showed a flash of familiar mahogany hair.
“Hold up,” he said. “Go back a few.”
And sure enough, there was his mom, chatting it up with a reporter. God, she was like a dog with a bone. A soft growl escaped his throat.
John leaned in. “Hey, isn’t that—”
“Yes. My mother. Back up and enhance the audio,” he instructed.
“Is it true that the B-Gastion’s child was found by the Nanny Sally?” his mother asked the reporter.
“I hadn’t heard that,” the reporter said.
“Shit,” York grumbled. Where had his mother gotten her information?
“Sorry, man.” The tech’s mouth pulled to the side.
“Want to grab a bite to eat?” the other tech asked.
“Nope. And you guys aren’t going anywhere, either, until these vids have been analyzed six ways from Sunday. Too many things on our to-do list.”
Like checking in with Vi. And paying his mom a visit to try to get her to let this go.
People were going to be edgier than ever with how close this hit to home…
York moved on to the captain’s office. This time the door was closed. He knocked.
“In,” Avery called.
The room was dim, lit only by a thin, in-wall holobox. Kindra B-Zaika was being interviewed at an after-awards-ceremony gala. And, Jesus, they were asking her about the case. Damn, everywhere he went she was on the news.
“My initial analysis shows the illness appears to be unique to Isabelle D-Gastion.” Kindra came across as confident. Where before he’d been annoyed by her ease with the press, now York was impressed by her in-charge presence.
“Was there any warning that something was amiss with the child?” the reporter asked.
“Keep it to yourself,” York muttered, almost holding his breath.
“We have nothing conclusive,” Kindra told the reporter.
“Good job,” York said. “We don’t even have much info to give the parents yet.”
“It’s all right,” Avery said, glancing at York. “Do you think B-Gastion was targeted? Why not someone from the Committee? Why not a scientist?”
“I have no actual evidence yet. Just my gut. B-Gastion has enemies with money and power. And then there are those within the Coder community. Any one of them could have hired a professional. Someone with the genetic expertise to create the virus. I don’t know.”
“The regional director is up my butt to solve this quickly. Yes, he blames Seville, but that doesn’t give him the explanation he needs about how his daughter contracted a virus, to begin with. It just doesn’t happen in this day and age.”
“I know.
“Then find the evidence.” Avery twirled and swished a straw between his fingers.
“I’m working on it.”
Captain Avery stared at the holographic picture cube on his desk. Pictures flashed over it: a boy, a girl, then the captain’s family at a park. “Ok. Genetics is our only lead. Let’s convince the people at Seville to work with us.”
“They have been.”
“That was before the blame landed on their turf. People get nasty when they’re cornered,” Avery muttered. “A genetic mistake isn’t a crime, but it could quickly turn into a panic. We will monitor everything. I want you knocking on their door again and again.”
York nodded. He turned to exit.
“Hey.” Avery’s gruff tone made York glance over his shoulder. “Schedule a stop at Rejuv. This’ll be a twenty-four routine.”
He suppressed a groan and wondered just how bad he looked. The rejuvenation pods weren’t the most comfortable, but they got the job done, refreshing tired bones and muscles in a fraction of the time it would take naturally.
Avery asked, “Have you heard from Vi?”
“Not since yesterday. Why?”
“Neither has anyone else. She missed an appointment with Shishido.” With a lowered brow, Avery left his desk and went to the hologram display. York intercepted him.
“May I?” he asked the Captain, indicating the holo-computer.
“Go ahead.”
He touched the holoscreen and accessed Vi’s personal information. “Huh. Her LE shows she’s at home. I’ll check in on her next time I’m out.”
Avery nodded, then leaned forward. “I didn’t think to check her Life Endangerment sensor. Maybe I should swing by Rejuv, too. By the way, your brother called and I filled him in. He’s agreed to consult. Wouldn’t hurt to pick the brain of a special agent with Genetic Fraud.”
“Yeah, but this isn’t embryo counterfeiting and genetic black marketing.” Things were still strained between him and his brother after the way Cal broke it off with Vi. She deserved better than a Dear Jane letter. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
“He’ll be here tomorrow.”
“Got it.”
Avery bent his neck to the side, and bones cracked. “I told him to report to you.”
“Good.” Then I can send him right back home.
* * *
York spent the night sleeping in a chair in the precinct library room. His arms and feet hung over the cushions, but it was his favorite place to crash. It was away from the hustle of officers coming in and out and far better than being hooked up to the rejuvenation machines the captain had suggested. He wasn’t keen on being attached to any machine. Robotics, cyboids, cryogenics—technology kept advancing at an alarming rate. A shiver ran through him.
Just after dawn, York poured himself a cup of coffee in the police break room. He took a sip as Shishido dropped into a chair. He finished off some sort of muffin in a few bites and looked at York’s mug.
“Black? Ugh,” the forensics officer said with a shiver.
“Puts hair on your chest.”
“Some women don’t like that. They like the smooth, Gen-Fair look,” Shishido teased.
“Guess I don’t want those women.”
Captain Avery burst into the break room. York took another huge gulp, figuring he wasn’t going to get a chance to finish his coffee.
“Shit’s hit,” Avery said. He flicked on a hologram image and positioned it on a table. “Just got this.”
The hologram showed a line of scared-looking parents carrying two-year-olds as they stood in a long trail leading up to the Seville Genetics Center.
“There are more?” York asked. “If these kids are sick, then we have one answer, at least. The regional director wasn’t the main target—just the first, a launch site, perhaps.”
“Maybe they’re only panicking,” Shishido said.
Avery pointed to Shishido. “Assemble a team from our lab. Maybe there’s something we can do to help.” Then he looked at York, who set his cup aside. “Take the tunnel. You’re authorized to take the direct access route to Seville. Get over there and see what we can do to control this.”
“Right.” Steeling his spine, he marched out the door so he could go give Kindra a hand.
* * *
Gina had the table set and dinner ready, just the way he liked it. When he walked through the front door, she stood posed with a hand on her hip and a pout on her sexy lips. “I’ve missed you,” she purred, then trotted to him and planted a big kiss on his mouth.
They made a good pair. And she was smart, too. She kept him apprised of what was going on with the police.
She went over, pulled open the silverware drawer and dropped the serving spoon she was getting. When she bent to retrieve it, she dropped the piece again, seeming nervous all of a sudden. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing.”
He didn’t believe her.
“Have a seat,” she said as she carried the food to the table.
He did, then caught hold of her wrist. “Do you have something to share with me?”
Gina twisted her hand and he eventually let go. “We’ll discuss it over dinner.” She sat across from him, drew her napkin and set it in her lap, took a long sip of water. Stalling, he thought. He stared at her.
“Tell me,” he ordered.
“There are two things I need your advice with,” she said. “First, I received a notice from one of my tracers that information had been accessed from it. Then a Detective Lester has been following me.”
“I see. And the second thing is?”
“Detective Lester may have seen me come out of the doll store.”
He cut into his chicken breast, thoughtful. Such carelessness will never do. But he didn’t have time to establish a relationship at this point with someone else. That would have to wait. “It sounds like Detective Lester needs some redirection. After dinner, I’ll go over what you must do.”
“Good. Good. I knew you’d have the answer.” Her lips quivered a little as she shot him a relieved smile.
* * *
The Chicago Transit Authority operated several subway systems below the bustling city. Some were public, others were private, like this one used strictly by emergency personnel. The individualized underground transport system wasn’t used by just anyone. People had to be keyed into the system.
York hopped into the spinner. “Ignition,” he said. The bike’s huge double wheels sparked with light, revolving up to speed until a high-pitched squeal propelled the machine from the docking station and into the tunnel.
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