by J. D. Robb
“Look at the last one, Eve.”
She noted the name—Jilessa Brown—the date, the sample removed.
January 25. Preliminary regeneration successful. Stage two begun. Sample responding to injection and stimuli. Noticeable regrowth of healthy cells. Stage three begun January 26. Naked eye exam shows pinkening of tissue. Sample fully regenerated within thirty-six hours of first injection. All scans and evaluations conclude sample is healthy. No indication of disease. Aging process successfully reversed. Organ fully functional.
“Well.” Eve drew a deep breath. “Applause, applause. Now let’s fry their asses.”
I have done it. Through skill and patience and power, through a judicious use of fine minds and greedy hearts, I have succeeded. Life, essentially endless, is within my reach.
It remains only to repeat the process again, continue the documentation.
My heart trembles, but my hands are steady. They are ever steady. I can look at them and see how perfect they are. Elegant, strong, like works of art carved by divine hands. I’ve held beating hearts in these hands, have slipped them delicately into the human body to repair, to improve, to prolong life.
Now, finally, I have conquered death.
Some of those fine minds will have regrets, will ask questions, will even doubt the steps that had to be taken now that the goal has been reached. I will not. Great strides often crush even the innocent under the heel.
If lives were lost, we will consider them martyrs to the greater good. Nothing more, nothing less.
Some of those greedy hearts will wheedle and whine, will demand more and calculate how to gain it. Let them. There will be enough for even the most avaricious among them.
And there will be some who will debate the meaning of what I’ve done, the means by which it was accomplished, and the use of the process. In the end, they’ll shove and elbow their way in line, desperate for what I can give them.
And pay whatever is asked.
Within a year, my name will be on the lips of kings and presidents. Glory, fame, wealth, power. They are at my fingertips. What fate once stole from me I have snatched back tenfold. Grand health centers, cathedrals to the art of medicine, will be built for me in every city, in every country on this planet, and everywhere man races to beat death.
Humanity will canonize me. The saint of their survival.
God is dead, and I am His replacement.
chapter twenty-two
How to do it was problematic. She could copy the data and send it to Feeney along the same route she had the other information. He’d have it in hand the next day. It would be enough for a warrant, for search and seizure, to drag high-level staff members into interview.
It was a way, a completely unsatisfying way.
She could go to the Drake Center herself, punch her way into the lab, record the data, the samples, pound on high-level staff members until they spilled their guts.
It was not the way, but it would have been very satisfying.
She tapped the disc she’d copied on her palm. “Feeney will close it within forty-eight hours, once he has this. It may take longer to round up everyone involved on at least two continents. But it’ll stop.”
“We’ll put it in overnight now.” He laid his hands on her shoulders, massaged the tension and fatigue. “I know it’s hard not being there at the end of it. You can comfort yourself knowing there wouldn’t be an end in a couple of days unless you’d found the answers. You’re a hell of a cop, Eve.”
“I was.”
“Are. Your test results and Mira’s evaluation will put you back where you belong. On the other side of the line.” He leaned down, kissed her. “I’ll miss you.”
It made her smile. “You manage to wiggle in, whichever side of the line I’m on. Let’s get this data on its way. Then we’ll watch the cleanup on-screen in a day or two, like normal citizens.”
“Wear your coat this time.”
“My coat’s trash,” she reminded him as they came down the stairs.
“You have another.” He opened a door, took out a long sweep of bronze cashmere. “It’s too cold for your jacket.”
Eyeing him, she fingered the sleeve. “What, do you have some droids in a room somewhere manufacturing these?”
“In a manner of speaking. Gloves in the pocket,” he reminded her and shrugged on his own coat.
She had to admit, it was nice to be wrapped in something warm and soft against the bitter air. “Once we dump this data, let’s come back, get naked, and crawl all over each other.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“And tomorrow, you go back to work and stop hovering.”
“I don’t believe I’ve been hovering. I believe I’ve been playing Nick to your Nora, and quite well.”
“Nick who?”
“Charles, darling. We’re going to have to spend time educating you in the entertainment value of classic early–twentieth-century cinema.”
“I don’t know where you find time for that stuff. It must be because you don’t sleep like a regular human being. You’re out there piling up billions and buying small worlds and—which reminds me, we need to discuss this idiotic idea of yours about stuffing money in some account for me. I want you to take it back.”
“All five million plus, or less the half million you’re donating to the Canal Street Clinic?”
“Don’t get smart with me, pal. I married you for your body, not your bucks.”
“Darling Eve, that’s so touching. And all the while I thought it was my coffee connection.”
Love could swamp her at the oddest times, she realized. “That didn’t hurt. Tomorrow, you do whatever it is you do to zap it back out and close it down. And next time you . . . Louise. Oh Christ. Head to the Drake! Head there now! Damn it, how did this slip by us?”
He punched up speed, clipped the curb at the corner. “You think they’ll go after her?”
“They took out Jan. They can’t let Louise talk.” Ignoring jams and privacy, she used the car ’link and tagged Feeney on his communicator.
“Get to the Drake,” she told him. “Get to Louise. I’m on my way, ETA five minutes. They’ll go for her, Feeney. They’ve got to go for her. She had data.”
“We’ll head out. She’s under guard, Dallas.”
“It won’t matter. The uniform won’t question a doctor. Contact him, Feeney, tell him not to let anyone in that room.”
“Confirmed. Our ETA fifteen minutes.”
“We’ll be there in two,” Roarke promised her as he flew across town. “Waverly?”
“Current president of AMA, chief of surgery, organ specialist, board member. Affiliated with several top-level centers worldwide.” She slapped a hand on the dash to keep her balance when he swung into the garage. “Cagney—he’s her uncle, but he’s chief of staff, chairman, and one of the most respected surgeons in the country. Hans Vanderhaven, international connections. God knows where he is right now. If not them, there are others who can walk right in and get to her without anyone blinking twice. There must be a dozen ways to off a patient, then cover the tracks.”
She sprang out of the car, raced for the elevator. “They don’t know she’s talked to me. She’s smart enough to keep that to herself, maybe to play dumb if anybody tries to pump her. But they might have gotten something out of Jan before they killed her. They’ve got to know by now she has data on the calls, asked questions, made accusations.”
She watched the numbers light above the door, willed them to hurry.
“They’d wait until the floor was quiet, until the change of shifts, most likely.”
“We won’t be too late,” she promised herself, and sprang out of the elevator the moment the doors opened.
“Miss!” A nurse came scrambling around the desk as Eve rushed by. “Miss, you’re required to check in at the desk. You’re not authorized.” Racing after them, she dragged out her beeper and called security.
“Where’s the uniform assigned to this door?”
Eve demanded, shoving and finding the door itself secured.
“I don’t know.” Grim-faced, the nurse moved over to block them from the door. “This is a family or authorized personnel only area.”
“Unlock this door.”
“I will not. I’ve called security. The patient in this room is not to be disturbed as per doctor’s orders. I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
“Go ahead and ask.” Rearing back, Eve broke the door open with two vicious kicks. Her clutch piece seemed to leap into her hand as she ran through. “Oh God, goddamn.”
The bed was empty.
The nurse sputtered when Eve whirled on her, grabbed her by the collar of her pale peach uniform smock. “Where’s Louise?”
“I—I don’t know. She’s supposed to be here. She was logged out as not to disturb when I came on shift twenty minutes ago.”
“Eve. Here’s your uniform.”
Roarke was crouched on the other side of the bed, testing the unconscious cop’s pulse. “He’s alive, sedated heavily I’d say.”
“Which doctor logged her as not to be disturbed?”
“Her attending. Dr. Waverly.”
“Do something for that uniform,” she ordered the nurse. “Cops will be here in ten minutes. I want you to order this building sealed, all exits.”
“I don’t have the authority.”
“Do it!” Eve repeated. She spun on her heel. “Organ wing, best guess. We’ll have to separate when we get there. We can’t cover the whole wing in time unless we do.”
“We’ll find her.” They hit the elevator together. He pried open the plate, flipped some controls. “We’re now straight express. Brace yourself.”
She didn’t even have the breath to curse. The speed pressed her into the corner, made her eyes tear and her heart thunder. She had a moment to pray he’d remembered to engage the brakes when they jerked to a stop that had her stumbling hard into him.
“Some ride. Here, take my piece.”
“Thanks, Lieutenant, but I have my own.” His face was cold and set as he drew out a sleek nine-millimeter. A weapon, like all handguns, that had been banned decades earlier.
“Shit,” was all she had time to say.
“I’ll go east, you take the west side.”
“Don’t fire that weapon unless—” she began, but he was out and gone.
She got her bearings and moved down the corridor, sweeping with her weapon as she came to a turn or a door. She fought the urge to rush. Each new area had to be carefully searched before she moved to the next.
She gazed up to the cameras scanning. It would be a miracle, she knew, if she came across her objective without being expected. And she knew she was being led when doors that should have been locked gave way as she approached.
“Okay, you son of a bitch,” she whispered. “You want a one-on-one? So do I.”
She made another turn, faced double doors fashioned of heavy, opaque glass. There was a palm plate, a cornea scanner, timed locks. A computerized voice activated as she stepped forward.
Warning. This is a secured area. Authorized Level Five personnel only. Hazardous biological material contained within. Warning. Anticontamination suits required. No entry without authorization.
The doors slid smoothly open.
“I guess I’ve just been authorized.”
“Your tenacity is admirable, Lieutenant. Please, come in.”
Waverly had removed his lab coat. He was dressed as if for an elegant evening engagement in a perfectly cut dark suit with a silk tie. His gold caduceus glinted in the bright lights.
He smiled charmingly and held a pressure syringe against the pulse in Louise’s throat. Eve’s heart bumped once, hard against her ribs. Then she saw the gentle rise and fall of Louise’s breasts.
Still breathing, she thought, and she intended to keep it that way.
“You got sloppy in the end, Doc.”
“I don’t think so. Just a few loose ends needing to be tied off and snipped. I suggest you put down your weapon, Lieutenant, unless you want me to administer this very fast-acting, very lethal medication to our young friend here.”
“Is that the same stuff you used on Friend and Wo?”
“As it happens, Hans treated Tia. But, yes. It’s painless and efficient. The drug of choice for discriminating self-terminators. She’ll be dead in less than three minutes. Now, put down your weapon.”
“You kill her, you’ve got no shield.”
“You won’t let me kill her.” He smiled again. “You can’t. A woman who risks her life for dead derelicts will swallow her pride for the life of an innocent. I’ve made quite a study of you in the past couple of weeks, Lieutenant—or should I say former Lieutenant Dallas.”
“You saw to that, too.” She would count on her wits now, Eve thought, as she laid the gun on the counter beside her. And on Roarke.
“You made that simple, all in all. Or Bowers did. Close doors and secure,” he ordered, and she heard them snick together at her back, locking her in. Locking backup out.
“Did she work with you?”
“Only indirectly. Move away from your weapon, slowly, to the left. Very good. You have a good mind, and we won’t be disturbed in here for some time. I’m happy to cooperate and fill in the blanks for you. It seems only fair, under the circumstances.”
To brag, she realized. He needed to brag. Arrogance, God complex. “I don’t have too many blanks yet to fill. But I’m interested in how you roped Bowers in.”
“She walked into it. Or you did. She turned out to be a handy tool to get rid of you, since threats didn’t do the job, and bribery seemed absurd, considering both your record and your financial situation. You cost this area of the Drake a very expensive security droid.”
“Well, you’ve got more.”
“Several. One is even now dealing with your husband.” The flash in her eyes delighted him. “Ah, that concerns you, I see. I’ve never been a believer in true love, but the two of you do make a lovely couple. Did.”
Roarke was armed, she reminded herself. And he was good. “Roarke isn’t easy to deal with.”
“He doesn’t trouble me overmuch.” The arrogance seeped through as Waverly shrugged. “Now, the two of you together were an irritant, but . . . well, you were asking about Bowers. It simply fell into place. She was a paranoid violent tendency that slipped through the system and ended up in uniform. There are others, you know.”
“It happens.”
“Every day. You being assigned to the investigation on—what was his name?”
“Petrinsky. Snooks.”
“Yes, yes, that’s right. Rosswell was supposed to be assigned to that matter, but there was some slipup in dispatch.”
“How long have you owned him?”
“Oh, only a few months. If all had gone according to plan, the entire business would have been filed and forgotten.”
“Who’ve you got in the ME’s department?”
“Just a midlevel clerk with an affection for pharmaceuticals.” He smiled slowly, winningly. “It’s a simple matter to find the right person with the right weakness.”
“You killed Snooks for nothing. You failed with him.”
“A disappointment to us. His heart didn’t respond. But there must be failures in any serious search for progress, just as there are obstacles to be overcome. You’ve been quite an obstacle. It was clear very quickly that you’d dig hard and deep and uncomfortably close. We had this problem in Chicago, but we handled it quite easily. You weren’t so quickly dispatched, so it took other means. A little cooperation from Rosswell, a bit of ruffling of Bowers’s feathers, false data planted, then, of course, we arranged for both of you to meet on another murder scene. She reacted very much as predicted, and while you were admirably controlled, it was enough.”
“So you had her killed, knowing procedure would require my suspension and an investigation.”
“It seemed that had solved our little problem, and with Senator Waylan pu
tting pressure on the mayor, we’d have time to finish. We were so very close to complete success.”
“Organ regeneration.”
“Exactly.” He all but beamed at her. “You have filled in blanks. I told the others you would.”
“Yeah, I’ve filled them. Friend screwed up your cushy circle with his artificial implants, knocked away your funding.” She hooked her thumbs in her pockets, moved a little closer. “You’d have been pretty young then, maybe just getting your toehold. Must’ve pissed you off.”
“Oh, it did. It took me years to establish myself enough to gather the resources, the team, the equipment to competently continue the work we’d been doing when Friend destroyed it. I hadn’t quite reached the brass ring of prominence when he and some colleagues began experimenting with melding live tissue with the artificial material. But Tia, she believed in me, in my passions. She kept me well informed.”
“Did she help you kill him?”
“No, that I did unassisted. Friend had gotten wind of my interests, experiments. Didn’t care for them. He intended to use his influence to cancel my funding—pitiful as it was—to research the regeneration of animal organs. I canceled him and his little project first.”
“But then you had to go under,” she said easing forward with her eyes steady on his. “You planned to move to human organs eventually, so you covered your tracks.”
“And covered them well. Enlisted some of the very best hands and minds in the medical field. And all’s well that ends well. Watch your step.”
She stopped at the foot of the gurney, laid a hand casually on the guard. “You know they’ve got Young. He’ll roll over on you.”
“He’d die first.” Waverly chuckled. “The man is obsessed with this project. He sees his name shining in medical journals for the ages. He believes I’m a god. He would bite through the artery in his own wrist before he’d betray me.”
“Maybe. I guess you couldn’t count on that kind of loyalty from Wo.”
“No. She was always a risk, always on the outskirts of the project. A skilled doctor but a fairly unstable woman. She began to balk when she discovered our human samples had been . . . appropriated without permission.”