B-Watson, with a seemingly perpetually stiff back, escorted a Coder into the room. Her breath caught. The tall, muscular man’s resemblance to York was striking. Her gaze shot between the two dark-haired men. “You’re brothers?”
“You know your genes,” the man said, a slight bite to his words.
“Cal, this is Kindra B-Zaika,” York said, tipping back in the chair. “My brother had some spare time, so I thought I’d put his sorry ass to work.” His acerbic tone had Kindra angling her head. She obviously wasn’t used to a family like his. “He works in the Genetic Fraud department.”
“Hey.” Cal waved, then finger-combed his thick locks.
York stood and approached his brother. Both men turned serious as York thrust a small H-Pad into Cal’s hand. “You’re terrific with evidence, Bro, so let’s get to it. I’ll be right behind you.”
Cal tucked the H-pad into his side pocket. “Thanks. And here I thought you never noticed.” He strolled toward the door. “Shall we?” Cal exited. York, waited behind, his gaze lingering on Kindra until the last minute when he slipped out the door.
Chapter Fifteen
One enormous building in an old section of Chicago housed the manufacturing plant for Global Dolls, Inc. In the age of robotics and androids, most manufacturing was accomplished by machines. Humans were reserved for management positions as part of the Androids Act of 2056.
As York drove through the check-in station, the computers automatically picked up his and Cal’s police ID implants. The synchronization of computer data made it permissible to enter any building at any time. Regulations were different between a private residence and a company. With a private residence, he’d use his wristband ID, while a company would require both.
York waited for the van with the tech team to pull in behind his vehicle. He went to the driver and gave quick instructions for the team to wait while he and Cal cleared the way. They headed for the main office.
For all the warm fuzziness the doll manufacturer portrayed in its ads, the building was cold and sterile: slick gray walls with steel doors, no windows or inviting plants lining the walkway. York was used to such buildings, but they were not his favorite. He guessed he’d just anticipated more from a children’s toy manufacturer.
He and his brother marched side by side up the walk. Once they were close enough to the entrance, the double doors automatically opened, welcoming them inside. In the foyer, a very tall, thin man greeted them from behind the reception desk. He looked GEI—A Generation, York guessed, by his height and age. In most cases, the worker bees—those supervising the machines and androids—would be Coders, and management would be made up of GEIs.
The receptionist’s dark eyes narrowed when Cal mentioned the reason for their visit. “I’ll be right back,” he said.
York and Cal looked at each other. “He’s going to get the boss,” York said.
“He didn’t say that, but I agree.”
“Well, look at that. We agree on something,” York muttered. He let his gaze wander around the cavernous entry.
“My goodness, what an unexpected surprise!” At the sound of the unfamiliar voice, York turned to see the receptionist had come back with another GEI in what looked like a more expensive suit. The newcomer stood, closed fists on his hips, and demanded, “What could possibly bring you to Global Dolls, officers?”
York had little patience for pissing contests. “You already received the warrant. We have a crisis on our hands. Operations must be halted until further notice.” He drew his H-pad from his pocket, ready to take notes.
The man pulled himself up taller. “On whose authority?”
York gave him a tight smile as he stepped forward, glancing briefly at Cal, who bared his teeth in a similarly false grin. “If you’ve paid any attention to the news, then you’re aware of an illness affecting D Generation. Evidence shows that the virus might be linked to Global Dolls. We’re here to find out how.”
Cal inched forward. “And until we do, no dolls go out. Period.”
The man gaped and sputtered, but held his ground. “You can’t be serious. That will cost us billions.” At York’s glare, the man snapped his mouth shut. “We’ll see what the directors have to say about this.” He spun on his heel. “Come.”
The bottom line was that the police had the authority to haul every last employee out the door and freeze all production. The problem was, citizens rarely remembered that detail. It had been so long since such a move had been employed in the corporate world—perhaps sixty years or more—it made sense they were meeting with less than total compliance. However, the longer this took, the longer it would take to find answers.
York had anticipated resistance and had acquired the necessary documentation. The man led them not into a boardroom, but instead to a cafeteria. The odor of pork tenderloin and cabbage teased his nostrils and his stomach churned as he looked at seated workers. He checked his watch. Indeed, it was past noon. Lunchtime.
All eyes fixed on the men as they entered. York introduced himself and Cal. At least they’d be able to clear half the people in the facility in one clean sweep. York didn’t bother waiting for the GEI suit to break the news. “Ladies and gents, I’ve been sent to acquire your cooperation. I’m sure you’ve heard of the D Generation virus. Evidence shows that Global Dolls may be a source of the contaminant. We’re shutting down the plant until we can gather more information and eliminate it as a health threat.”
A short, dark-haired woman spoke up. “How long will that take?” York judged by the quality of her suit she was management of some kind.
York thought of Brianna and her dolls, of poor little Isabelle. “Until we’ve taken a sample from every doll, every nook and cranny in this place, and ruled out any sign of the virus.” He removed the communication device from his pocket and called up a hologram with instructions to the employees and owners of Global Doll, Inc. With a swipe of his finger over the control, he waited for a display to materialize. It didn’t. Nothing. He repeated the steps. Still nothing. Damn. He missed his QuL. He was on his own.
He took a deep breath. “There is likely a glitch somewhere in the process. What I can tell you is that everyone needs to leave the plant. Now. My team will take samples from every doll and every piece of equipment, then have it all tested. If everything comes back clean, then it’s business as usual for you tomorrow.”
“And if we don’t cooperate?” the apparent boss said.
“Then we will lock you in that room over there.” Cal thrust his thumb in the direction of a door across the hall for emphasis. “Your choice.”
The workers glanced at one another. Finally, the dark-haired woman nodded. “Okay. Is there anything we can do to help?”
“Gather your things and take the rest of the day off, and let us get to our job,” Cal reiterated with a shake of his head.
York could tell by the set of her jaw she didn’t like it, but she said to the employees, “You heard him. Let’s move.”
A man with shoulder-length blond hair separated from the group and walked over to York and Cal. “Are we in any danger of contracting whatever this is?”
“I don’t think so,” York answered. “It seems to only affect D Generation children.”
“My son is D Generation. My wife has been monitoring his health.”
York gave Cal an uneasy glance. “Why don’t you get the team and have them begin testing. The plant layout is on the H-pad I gave you.”
Cal nodded and headed back the way they had come to call the team in.
York returned his attention to the worker. “Does your son own any Global Dolls?”
The man blinked. “Of course. I recently gave him a Scientist Global Doll for his second birthday. I wanted to inspire him to grow up to be more than a manager like his dad, you know?”
York recorded notes. “There aren’t many symptoms—fever and difficulty with spiritual unity. Have you noticed any unusual behavior in your son?”
The man shook h
is head. “No. Nothing.”
“Where did you get the doll? From a store?”
“No. As employees, we’re allowed to purchase them directly from the plant.”
York nodded. He’d just found a lead that could narrow down their investigation. He looked around. The factory operated a clean facility. He scribbled notes as he waited for the team to go over and collect samples from every surface and doll.
His comm chimed. He glanced at the screen. Vi. He accepted the call. “Our sight tests positive,” she said. “Eighty percent of the dolls showed signs of the virus on them.”
Looked like they just got their point of entry. Now they needed a complete report from the factory for the full picture.
* * *
Amanda pruned several spent buds from the rose bush and then cut a handful of blooms to put in a vase in Vi’s memory. Vi had liked her roses. Amanda couldn’t believe York’s partner was gone.
The waning day glowed brightly with the late-afternoon sun dipping behind the house as she moved from the garden to the patio. She brushed tendrils of hair off her brow as she made her way to the table and chairs, and plopped into one. She arranged the flowers and sat back. With a sigh, she took a long drink from the glass of strawberry lemonade she’d prepared earlier.
Her gaze fixed on a bare spot at the end of the garden. There was room for another plant. Perhaps she should buy a yellow rose bush in memory of Vi and plant it there.
If she’d only visited her longer the other day. It didn’t seem possible. What was this world coming to? With GEI kids dying and Vi— She shivered.
Deep in thought, she jumped as the computer system announced a guest at the front door. Feeling tired and discouraged, she made her way to the entry and swung open the door. There stood her niece with her little daughter, Fiona, draped in her arms.
Amanda scrunched her brow, not overly concerned. “Stacey, I didn’t expect to see you today.”
Stacey shook her head. “I know. But Fiona isn’t well. She began holding her head and crying. Then I touched her skin, and she’s so hot. I’m worried. I’ve been following the news and the reports about some kind of illness with those GEI children, and now this…”
Amanda touched the child’s brow. Indeed, she was burning up. A fever, she recalled the term used many years ago.
“You don’t think she could have the same thing as the WHO regional director’s daughter, do you?” Stacey asked.
“I doubt it. That little girl was two; Fiona is four, and a Coder. And our communities are so different. I don’t see how it would be possible.”
The child let out a long, low moan. Stacey’s eyes bored into Amanda’s, pleading. “You have connections through York, Amanda. The news reports say he’s leading the B-Gastion investigation. Please, what would it hurt to take Fiona to see that genetic specialist he’s working with?”
“I… I don’t think they’ll help,” she said, disheartened, but even as she tasted the acidic words, she wiped her hands. “Shit, and York thought I was defiant earlier…”
“So you’ll do it?”
Amanda nodded. “Of course.”
“You always are the brave one.”
“Brave or stupid. Sometimes it’s hard to tell.” She touched her niece’s shoulder. “Here, let me take her. We’ll figure out what’s happening.”
A tear slid down Stacey’s cheek.
“If she’s ill, they’ll have medicine,” Amanda said, both disgusted with Seville scientists and hopeful for the help they could provide.
Stacey rubbed shaky fingers over her face, then back up over her eyes. “We’ve all had the basic genetic alterations against disease. How can she be sick?”
“I don’t know, but we’ll find out. Don’t worry.”
Amanda curled the child against her as they headed for the air-tran to take them into town. She acted as Fiona’s buffer. Stacey clutched the child’s stuffed kitten as she watched her daughter. The man sitting across from her looked the sick child up and down before moving to the back of the car. Several other people met her eyes, then quickly glanced away. They, too, took seats farther away.
Fiona appeared to be napping, and unease swept through Amanda. Children didn’t really do that these days. Part of her couldn’t blame people for their reactions to the ailing child. They were, after all, a product of their society.
By the time they reached the stop for the Seville Genetics Center, she was a ball of nerves. What if they wouldn’t let her in? What if York wasn’t here? He was Fiona’s best chance of being seen by one of the doctors.
When they disembarked, she scanned the area for an entrance. The main entrance was too far from the air-tran stop to trek all the way there with Fiona. And then she saw them.
Thank God. York and Cal were making their way toward the building from a parking area. “York! Cal!”
Her sons jogged over to join her. York looked shocked as he examined Fiona, flushed and moaning softly. “What’s going on?” He immediately scooped the little girl into his strong arms.
“She’s ill,” Amanda said.
“What?” Cal asked, his tone rising.
Stacey said, “We were wondering if… Is it possible Fiona could have what the other children are sick with?”
“No. Kindra didn’t mention anything about the virus attacking Coders. Only D Generation.”
“Are you sure?” Amanda asked. “But… Can you check? Do a test to find out why she’s ill? It’s too bizarre with the D generation illness and all.”
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt,” York said. He led the way into the building, flashing his police credentials for a volunteer.
Amanda breathed a sigh of relief, certain York’s doctor friend would be able to help.
* * *
York almost forgot about his brother, mother, and Stacey trailing him as they followed the volunteer into Kindra’s domain. His attention was fixed on the sweet young girl. Fiona’s eyes were closed and her breathing sounded shallow to him. The police techs detailed to check Global Dolls at Seville were already in the conference room adjacent to the lab.
Shit, this place is crowded.
A group of other parents and children were waiting at the far end. But Kindra wasn’t anywhere in sight.
He found a spare chair for Stacey to sit down and placed Fiona in her lap. “Hey,” he called to a lab assistant, waving her over. “This is Fiona. I need a blood sample taken and analyzed ASAP.”
The petite GEI with silver-blue eyes stepped back. “This is most unusual. We don’t usually—” Her eyes widened, closed, then she swallowed hard.
For a second, he wondered if she would deny his request, well aware this facility probably had not treated a Coder—ever. Relief rushed through him when she grabbed a blood test strip and methodically drew a blood sample from Fiona’s arm.
If whatever was affecting Fiona turned out to be the virus, too… He palmed his face and his generous growth of beard. He’d see to it that Coders received the same consideration as GEIs. His gaze shot to his mother. He thought of all she’d been fighting for. This might be the biggest test ever.
York asked the assistant, “Do you know where Dr. B-Zaika is?”
“No, Lieutenant. I haven’t seen her.” She raised the blood test strip. “I’ll process this.”
The assembly of people closest to them dispersed, each doing what seemed to be their job, and leaving York and his family in limbo. They weren’t anyone’s responsibility—or so it appeared. Therefore, what they did didn’t matter.
It seemed a long while before the door opened and Kindra walked in. She came to an abrupt halt as her gaze swept over the tight-knit group. Her brow wrinkled as she looked at his mother. “What’s this?”
York walked over to her but drew up just short of invading her personal space. His feet tingled to take one more step closer. To take hold of her hand. To confide in her about his anxiety, his fear that this disease may be touching his family, too.
He did none of thos
e things. Instead, he explained what was happening and who the newcomers were. “This is my mother, Amanda, and my cousin, Stacey. And this sweet girl is Fiona, her daughter. She’s four.”
York held his breath, waiting for his mom to say something rude and alienate Kindra. For once, his mother held her tongue and simply nodded in greeting.
“The child seems to be exhibiting some of the same symptoms as the virus victims. We’re trying to rule out any sort of connection,” York said.
Kindra’s jaw dropped. “I’d be surprised if it’s the same virus. But you’re correct. It’s extremely odd that she is sick, too. I can’t recall the last time anyone suffered serious illness, GEI or Coders.”
He cleared his throat of a sudden tightness and looked down at his cousin’s little girl. “Her temperature is 105 degrees. We gave her medicine to bring it down.”
“I’m surprised you found a fever reducer.”
“One of the assistants was very helpful. She said Seville keeps a medical archive of sorts, in the basement, I think,” his mother said.
“Okay. Can you tell me if Fiona has gotten a Global Doll recently? Or could she have been around Isabelle D-Gastion?”
Stacey’s brow pinched. “Fiona doesn’t have a Global Doll.”
A shadow crossed Kindra’s face. “The testing process shouldn’t take more than an hour. Let’s find you a more comfortable place to wait.”
She led the way back down the corridor to a small office. It was furnished like an informal meeting room with a sofa and chairs. Cal placed Fiona in a reclining chair. The little girl looked so small and fragile as she slipped into the chair in rag-doll fashion, swallowed up by the large cushions. York smoothed his fingers over Fiona’s forehead and hair.
When he stood and turned, four sets of eyes stared at him. In his mother’s he saw heartbreak; in his brother’s, sympathy; in Stacey’s, fear; and in Kindra’s he saw tenderness. For an instant, barely more than a heartbeat, he fancied what it would be like to parent a child with her.
Not that child-rearing had been a good experience with his ex-wife, it hadn’t, but with Kindra… A warm feeling of possibility and hope came over him. Unbidden, he reflected on Brianna. She was such a sweet child.
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