by Liz Wolfe
Sam was one of his patients at The Center, although they’d presented him as Sam Matson, a four year old living with foster parents after the death of his mother three months earlier. He’d uncovered a record of death for a Sarah Matson, and he hoped that didn’t mean that Shannon Masterson was dead.
Ruth changed into scrubs and lathered her hands and arms at the basin. When she entered the procedure room, she saw that Jonah had already arrived. Five years of working with Jonah had done nothing to mitigate her occasional irritation with him. It had, however, convinced her of his brilliance. Occasional irritation was a small price to pay to work with him. Especially on something so important.
“I assume you want to use electro-ejaculation in this instance.” Jonah snapped on surgical gloves and pulled his mask up to cover his mouth and nose.
“Of course.” Ruth made a note on the chart and then pulled on her gloves. “Unless you have another method you like.”
Ruth pulled the hospital gown down to reveal the nearly hairless chest of Chase Harmon. That would make it easier to attach the electrodes that fed his vital signs to the monitor. Of course, it was a relatively simple procedure, and she could have done it without monitoring his vitals. But Ruth preferred safe to sorry. Especially on such a valuable specimen.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Ruth. This is too important to leave to chance.” Jonah opened several packets and pressed the adhesive backed snaps to the patient’s chest.
Ruth attached wires to the snaps, then plugged the wires into a compact machine and flipped a switch. The machine whirred to life and emitted a series of soft beeps. A small screen displayed a graph of the patient’s heartbeat and numbers flashed his blood pressure and oxygen level.
Jonah beckoned to Ruth with a long, slender hand. “Help me roll him onto his side.”
Ruth placed her hands firmly on Chase’s shoulder and back. Even though the room was cool, the warmth of his skin seeped through her latex gloves.
“He’s a big one, isn’t he?” She pushed Chase’s shoulder as Jonah pulled from the other side. The surgical gown parted to reveal firm, muscular buttocks and massive thighs. His skin was dimpled with gooseflesh from the coldness of the room.
Perfection. The man was in exceptional physical condition. Something she could appreciate as a doctor and a woman. She glanced at the broad expanse of his muscular back and made a mental note to be sure all the adhesive from the electrodes was removed before he awakened. She didn’t want him suspecting that they had harvested his sperm rather than performing the electroencephalogram. He’d been reluctant to agree to having an EEG done while he was sleeping, but she’d convinced him that it was a necessary part of testing his psychic abilities.
“Well, you know what they say,” Jonah said. Ruth cocked an eyebrow at him in question. He chuckled. “The bigger the better.”
“You are so juvenile.”
“Oh, come on, Ruth. You have to take some pleasure in your work.” Jonah glanced at the window that afforded a view of an identical procedure room, as the orderly wheeled in their other patient. “You’re sure the time is right?”
“Absolutely. I’ve charted her cycle for two months. If we’re going to get a baby, this is the best possible day for that to occur.” Ruth opened the package of electrode probes, placed them on the tray, and picked up the speculum. More coldness for the patient, though he wouldn’t be aware of it. “Although I’d feel better if there were an orgasm involved.”
“Yes, wouldn’t we all?” Jonah murmured.
“You know what I mean,” she snapped, letting the speculum drop onto the metal tray with a clank. “There’s better sperm motility if an orgasm occurs in the female. With insemination we need all the motility we can get.”
“I understand. But we don’t really have a choice, do we?” Jonah watched as she prepared the patient. “You did say the chances are better for a female child?”
“Yes. We’ve gone over this, Jonah. The acid/alkaline balance is correct; the timing is best for a female. Of course, there are no guarantees.”
“I realize that, Ruth. I simply would prefer to have a female. The ability is usually so much stronger in females.” He frowned, then shook his head. “I can only wonder why.”
“I still think that’s just a pet theory of yours. If we get a female with stronger abilities than the boy, I’ll be amazed. I’ve never even heard of anyone with his kind of ability.” Ruth glanced at Jonah and frowned. “Why don’t you go prep our patient in there? This will be done in a few minutes, and we want to get the sperm into her while it’s still fresh.” She nodded toward the other room.
This was difficult enough without him watching her every move. Someday they would be able to do this with gene manipulation. But that was probably years off. They hadn’t even identified the gene markers yet. For now, this was the best they could do. Combine sperm and ovum from the same two people who created Sam. She still marveled at their luck in discovering that Chase was Sam’s father. Shannon Masterson had insisted that she didn’t know the name of the man who’d gotten her pregnant just before she graduated college. Then Chase had shown up asking about Shannon, although he’d seemed surprised to find that she’d had a child.
They’d told him they had no idea where she was, but he’d hung around and even volunteered for the psychic research program. By the time they tested him, they’d done enough investigation to know that Chase and Shannon had gone to college together and been involved for some time before Chase joined the Marines. A DNA test had confirmed that Chase was Sam’s father. She picked up the speculum again and waited for Jonah to leave.
“Certainly. We don’t want to take a chance with stale sperm. Call if you need any assistance.”
Jonah walked into the adjoining room and gazed at the young woman strapped to the table. Her red-gold hair spread across the small, paper-covered pillow, eyes closed in what appeared to be a deep, peaceful sleep. He pulled the surgical gloves off, discarded them in the biohazard bin, and then pulled on a clean pair.
“You don’t know how lucky you are, young lady,” he murmured. “You’ll be the mother of a superior being. Several superior beings, eventually.”
The beginning of a new breed. He’d spent most of his thirty-two year research career working on this. Years spent getting government funding for the research which took valuable time away from his experiments. Still, he had persevered. And he’d shown remarkable progress. His last research program had proved that there was a genetic link in psychic ability.
Of course, when the government idiots had taken offense at his unauthorized experiments and closed down the program, he’d not shared that information with them. They were too stupid to understand the implications anyway. But, that very information had made it possible to convince private individuals and other countries to fund him. Ten years of unlimited funding with the best equipment and methods had brought him to this point. And his benefactors didn’t bother themselves with how he obtained his research subjects or what happened to them.
Jonah didn’t deliberately harm the subjects, but accidents happened. Experiments went wrong. He firmly believed the means justified the end in this case. Because now, he could breed humans to produce a child with exceptional psychic abilities. Behavioral and drug therapy, along with brainwashing techniques, would then insure the child would grow up to follow orders. To use his or her abilities in any way he or she was instructed.
Jonah gently lifted each of her legs onto the braces and placed her feet in the padded stirrups. Pulling her hospital gown up, he swabbed her abdomen, thighs, and genitalia with a disinfecting wash. “Can’t take any chances with our new little one, now, can we?”
CHAPTER SIX
Shelby stood under the pounding shower at the gym and let the hot water massage her muscles. Forty-five minutes on the treadmill, running at the highest incline, an hour of free weights, and half an hour in the pool. Normally her workouts weren’t so long or so intense, but she had no idea when she’d get ba
ck to the gym. She wrapped a towel around her hair and then dried off. The dressing room was empty, so she didn’t have to hide in one of the large stalls to squirm into the padded garments she was beginning to hate.
As soon as she got back to the apartment, Shelby tore off the padded clothes and stepped into shorts and a tank top. She settled on the sofa with a thick manual on computer networking and munched on a chicken Caesar salad.
Two hours later she dug into a pint of gourmet, chocolate brownie ice cream, hoping the sugar and caffeine would restart her brain. Her cell phone chirped, saving her from returning to the dry technical manual.
“What?” Shelby asked.
“We’ve got the background check back on Harrison McRae,” Ethan said.
“Shoot.”
“Nothing very interesting until a few years back. Seems he was investigated for performing experiments on patients without their full knowledge.”
“Yikes, what kind of experiments?” She closed the ice cream container and returned it to the freezer.
“Essentially, they consisted of brainwashing techniques. Dr. McRae defended his treatment saying that he was helping his patients overcome emotional blocks that were adversely affecting their lives,” Ethan’s voice sounded like he was reading from the report.
“Without their full knowledge.” Scum. The handsome doctor was pond scum.
“There’s more. He was also accused of having a personal relationship with a couple of his female patients.”
“And he seemed like such a nice guy. What happened with the allegations?”
“The cases were resolved without going to court.”
“He paid them off, then.” Super scum. Pig slime. And he was such a hunk. That grin that quirked up one corner of his mouth. Those rimless glasses. Shelby inadvertently sighed.
“Looks that way.” Ethan paused. “Is there a problem?”
“No, not at all.” It’s not like she’d ever really consider a relationship with anyone involved in a mission, regardless of which side they were on. “Just seems like the more I learn about men, the more disappointed I am.”
“We’re not all that bad,” he chided.
“That’s what you all say.”
“And we all mean it. Hopefully, you’ll be called in on an emergency network problem soon by The Center.”
“I set the virus up so that it won’t appear for a few days. Thought it’d be less suspicious that way.”
“Good idea.”
“In the meantime, can you find out where Dr. McRae hangs out?” Shelby asked. “Maybe I can get some kind of information from him.”
“I’ll check it out and let you know.”
“OK. Good night.”
Zoe Drummond parked her Kawasaki Ninja a block away from her target destination. She pulled the custom cover from the saddlebags and draped it over the bike, hiding her helmet underneath. She didn’t normally leave her helmet, but she couldn’t take it with her, and there was little chance it would be stolen in this neighborhood of mini mansions. It might take a few extra seconds to remove the cover if she needed to get away in a hurry, but that was better than someone noticing the bike, and possibly remembering the license plate. A lot of the bikers at The Bashful Bandito liked to give her a hard time about her crotch-rocket. But in her line of work, fast was good. Getting away fast was sometimes imperative.
She crossed a backyard, careful to stay out of the range of the motion sensor lights mounted to the patio roof, and easily climbed the four-foot stone wall that stood between her and the next house. Zoe hugged the stone wall as she made her way around the yard to the back door of the garage. She peered in through the small window and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the car was gone. He’d been gone last night when she’d cased the place, and it was almost too much to hope that he’d be gone again tonight. But her client had told her that he was a doctor and away from his home frequently.
Zoe inserted her lock picks into the lock and deftly opened the door. Inside, she pulled the cover off the master control box of the security system. In minutes she’d deactivated the system. Wouldn’t it be nice if the safe turned out to be as easy as the security system?
Safes and security systems were her specialty. The combination brought her jobs that paid well, so she didn’t have to do them very often. Just enough to pay her living expenses and her tuition. Six more months of school and she could leave her life of crime behind. That thought brought a feeling of anticipation mixed with fear, and she pushed it aside. This was no time to be distracted.
She slipped into the kitchen and felt a familiar rush of adrenaline. She tamped it down. Walking quickly through the kitchen, she ascended the backstairs and walked down the hall to a bedroom that had been turned into an office. The safe was in a corner behind the desk. She smiled when she saw it, familiar with the brand and the type of lock. She hadn’t opened one of these in a long time. Placing an earphone in her ear, she kneeled in front of the safe and pressed a small disc against the door, next to the lock. When the lock clicked and the door swung open, she checked her watch. Four minutes and twenty-eight seconds. She was slipping. It usually took less than three minutes.
The safe held several envelopes, a couple of file folders, and two jewelry boxes. Zoe quickly opened the envelopes and went through the contents. The third one held photographs and a smaller envelope of negatives. She flicked on her flashlight and glanced through the photographs. The woman who had hired her was in most of them. And in several very compromising positions. Zoe shrugged and slipped the photos and negatives back into the envelope. She only had to be sure she had the right photos and negatives. She stuffed all the envelopes and folders inside her jacket and grabbed the jewelry boxes.
This job had an added advantage. Her client wanted this to appear to be a random burglary, so Zoe would take everything in the safe and a few items from the bedroom. Anything she got, she was free to keep. Zoe quickly flipped open the jewelry boxes. A Rolex watch, and a platinum and diamond ring. She stuffed the boxes into the pocket of her leather jacket and closed the door to the safe.
She then walked into the master bedroom. The top dresser drawer yielded a set of ruby studs with matching cuff links. She dropped them into a pocket and considered what else she could take.
Suddenly, pain exploded through her head, and she crumpled to the floor.
Friday morning Shelby still hadn’t gotten a call from the people at The Center about their computer problems. She knew the virus had started worming its way through their system on Wednesday, just as she’d planned. She checked the tapes from the listening device she’d planted at the receptionist’s desk several times each day. The first problems had been talked about on Wednesday, and yesterday Dr. Carlson had complained to Mandy about it more. Were they going to wait until the damn virus had eaten everything on their computers?
Shelby also hadn’t managed to run into Dr. McRae. Evidently, all he did was go to work and go home. He didn ’t hang out at bars and wasn’t involved in any kind of sport. Hell, the man hardly even shopped for food.
Shelby opened the aluminum case, rewound the tape, and punched the fast button so she could listen to everything speeded up but still recognizable. After an hour of noise and meaningless conversations, she heard Dr. Carlson’s voice and pressed the button to slow the tape down to regular speed. Dr. Carlson instructed Mandy to call a company called InfoTech Professionals, and Shelby groaned. Now she’d have to change her plans. She listened to Mandy’s call to InfoTech Professionals. They assured her they would have someone out there that afternoon and that they’d work over the weekend if necessary to fix the problem. Shelby punched the speed dial number for Ethan into her cell phone.
“The Center is calling in a firm called InfoTech Professionals.
“How long do we have?
“They said they’d be out there this afternoon.”
“OK. I’ll have Josh there in two hours.”
“No, I don’t need Josh. I’ll handle it
myself.”
“Shelby, it’ll be easier with Josh there.”
“I said I don’t need him. Just have him email me the FTP program.”
Ethan sighed. “I’d be happier if Josh assisted you on this.”
“And I’ll be happier if I’m doing it myself.”
“I’ll send him down, just in case.” Ethan hurried on before she could interrupt. “You don’t have to use him, but he’ll be there if you need him.”
“Fine.” Shelby knew when to let Ethan think he’d gotten his way. Josh could just cool his heels while she got into The Center and then go back to Denver. “Tell Josh I’ll meet him at InfoTech’s offices.”
“Shelby Parker, FSA.” She flashed her badge and identification to the young woman. “I need to see the owner.”
“Do you have an appointment, Ms. Parker?”
“I don’t need one. This is official FSA business.”
“I’m sorry, but Mr. Knowles is booked up today. Perhaps if you left your card, I could have him call you?”
“I don’t think so. As I said, this is official FSA business.”
“Is that Futuristic Software Associates?” the receptionist asked hesitantly.
“It’s the Federal Security Agency. Like the Central Intelligence Agency or the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”
Realization slowly dawned on the woman’s face. “Oh, I see. Just a moment.” She picked up the phone and punched an intercom button. “Mr. Knowles, there’s a Ms. Parker from the FSA here to see you.” She listened intently, then turned away and lowered her voice. “No, it’s the Federal Security Agency.” Her head bobbed up and down. “Yes, like that.”
“Thank you.” Shelby smiled at her and waited. Thirty seconds later she heard footsteps. Evidently, she could still count intimidation as one of her strong points.
“I’m Dan Knowles. Can I help you?”
Shelby turned back from her perusal of the aquarium. Early fifties, a little pudgy from sitting behind a desk for too many years, short hair, stylish clothes, and those tiny glasses that were the current fashion statement for the visually impaired.