“Oh, now they think of it. The entire time they kept me there, it didn’t dawn on them? Idiots. I told them I had a rapport with her. I even asked them nicely, but did they listen? Nooooooo. In fact they wouldn’t even admit they were detaining her there.”
“Yeah, Abby, I’m sure your request to help was convincing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means they’re accepting your help now.”
This visit would mark my first time seeing Xiaolian since before she had gone missing from my home.
For reasons that weren’t explained, no one would tell me anything about Xiaolian. They kept me completely in the dark. Even Reilly couldn’t give me an answer. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he had also been cut off.
“They know we’re coming, right?” I asked Reilly.
“I just got off the phone with Gerald Watkins, the director there. He’s the one who called with the request. Did you meet him while you were there?”
“No. Did he elaborate on why he suddenly needs me to speak with Xiaolian?”
“Maybe they’re not getting anywhere. Seems like you’re the only one who might be able to break through.”
“I must have told them that a million times.” I could feel my cheeks becoming flushed. I didn’t need to be taking it out on Reilly. I knew we were on the same side, but I had to vent.
“I’m aware they didn’t treat you with the respect you deserve, but I’m asking that you play nice when you get there.”
Sometimes the government can be the most asinine person in the room. During the drive, I stared out the window at the passing scenery. Most of my thoughts were about Xiaolian. I had to assume she was scared and had retreated back into her shell.
When we reached the facility, there was a mix-up with security at the entrance gates. Apparently we hadn’t been cleared to enter. Watkins, you idiot. A couple of calls later and we were allowed onto the property.
“What’s so secretive about this place that the FBI can’t even access it?” I asked Kang.
“Beats me.”
“It’s days like this I feel like shooting someone.”
Kang parked the SUV in one of the guest parking stalls outside the main building, and we headed inside.
A uniformed guard manned a reception desk just inside the doors. Unbelievably, we encountered the same clearance problem. A few calls later and we were told to have a seat.
The waiting room was comprised of a few chairs lined up against a wall. There was nothing to read, but there was a water dispenser. The walls were painted beige and decorated with a photo of the president and California’s governor. The area was clean; it just looked drab and depressing.
“This place is like a ghost town,” I whispered to Kang. We hadn’t seen a single soul walk through the waiting area, nor had anyone entered or left the building.
“I don’t think they get a lot of visitors here. In fact, I didn’t notice a lot of people aside from the posted guards. What about you?”
“The only people I saw were the ‘doctors,’” I said as I made air quotes. “Besides nursing certain individuals back to health and keeping others under observation, I wonder what else they do here.”
“My guess is anything the government wants to keep under wraps.”
“You think this is a black site?”
Kang shrugged. “What else could it be?”
Before I could respond, the double doors near the reception desk opened, and a man wearing a navy-blue suit appeared.
“Come on,” he said, with a wave of his hand as he held the doors open.
As I approached, he extended his hand. “Agent Kane, I’m Gerald Watkins, the director here. I believe this is our first meeting. Agent Kang and I met earlier.”
I took his hand and gave it a firm shake. “Pleasure.”
That was the extent of his welcome. He led us down a white-walled corridor dotted with a number of gray doors equipped with security-card access panels. Other than a double-digit number followed by a letter on a plaque, nothing indicated what might be on the other side of the doors. Watkins acted as if they didn’t exist.
Our shoes click-clacked on the floor as we followed him. He kept quiet. Kang and I didn’t bother with questions. We passed through a number of double doors that required a swipe of his key card until we reached a corridor lined with observation rooms, an area I recognized. We entered the very first door, which was simply an office. Inside, Dr. Julian Yates, who’d treated me during my stay there, sat behind his desk.
“Agent Kane. I’m glad to see you up and moving,” he said as he made his way around his desk. He offered his hand, and I shook it. “Agent Kang, always a pleasure.”
Watkins exited the room and closed the door behind him without saying a word.
“What’s his problem?” I asked.
“Don’t let him bother you. Sit, sit,” he said, pointing at the two chairs in front of his desk. “Before I take you to meet with Xiaolian, I wanted to talk to you both about what’s happening here.”
Finally some transparency. I crossed a leg over the other. “We appreciate that.”
“First off, let me say she’s nothing like I’ve seen before. And I mean that literally. I’m aware of three-parent babies… are you two familiar with it?”
We nodded. “More or less,” I said.
“Let me just review quickly. Three-parent babies are the result of a procedure that incorporates DNA from three individuals. Why would the parents want their baby to have DNA from another person? Say one parent has a genetic mutation for a particular disease; introducing the third gene as a dominant gene will prevent the genetic mutation from presenting itself in the child.”
“I can see how people, at least the parents in this situation, could see this as a positive,” I said.
“Yes, that’s what’s exciting about it. Unfortunately, continuing to develop this technique will, as it always does with science, lead to other discoveries and uses. Such as in Xiaolian’s case. She is the first of her kind, apparently. During the last three weeks, I’ve done extensive research, and no one has published documentation suggesting that they’ve achieved a result like Xiaolian’s. It’s unprecedented. It’s like the parents were used as hosts. I don’t know how it was achieved exactly, but I’m hoping to find out with more research. Whoever is behind this managed to tinker with the process so that they could control how much of each parent existed in the nucleus before it started dividing into an early-stage embryo.”
“So whoever did this purposely chose to make this baby seventy-five percent me, or whatever the percentage is, and the rest divided between the other two people?”
Yates nodded. “And that’s why this research is banned in many countries. The scientific community is smart enough to see the potential of a process, even if it has not yet been realized. However, not every country or doctor will recognize this ban and adhere to it.”
“What are your theories on why someone would do this—I’m talking specifically about Xiaolian’s case—use my DNA without my knowledge?”
“I can’t be one hundred percent sure of this, but if I had to theorize, I would say the reasoning is that they wanted to recreate someone like you without exactly creating you. I’m guessing the parents weren’t really parents but most likely paid volunteers who acted as hosts. At least I’d like to think they volunteered. Of course, you, apparently, did not have that option—to volunteer.”
Kang and I sat in silence for a few seconds, until Yates asked if there were any more questions on the three-parent technique. My questions weren’t about the science, or the how. They were more about the motive behind all of this, which I knew Yates would not have the answer to.
“Shall I move on?”
I nodded.
“A lot of the tests we administered with you, we also did with Xiaolian. We wanted to see how many of your personal traits had really translated over to her. We were surprised to find that the similarities between you two were cl
oser than we’d imagined. The IQ test you took placed you in the 130–140 range.”
“Wow, look at you, Miss Brains,” Kang said.
“Xiaolian tested in the same range as well. You tested off the charts when it came to problem solving—primarily, deductive reasoning. So did Xiaolian. She’s also quick witted and possesses keen observational skills—a little Sherlock Holmes, I’d say. Her ability to pick apart something, step back, question it, and find the obvious answers that others never see is incredible.”
“Are you sure?” I pursed my lips as I paused. “It’s just that I didn’t really notice any of these traits in the time I spent with her. She came across as the complete opposite of what you’ve said. Shy, meek, quiet—that’s what I saw.”
“Abby, she also couldn’t recall a lot because of the propofol,” Kang reminded me.
“That could be it,” Yates said. “I’m aware of how she arrived in the States. That’s a very traumatic experience for a twelve-year-old, especially being locked up in a suitcase. This most likely affected her personality during the time she spent with you. I think you’ll be surprised when you meet Xiaolian today. She has… how shall I say this? She has come out of her shell.”
Kang and I glanced at each other, eyebrows raised.
“I’m fully aware that all of what I’m saying can come across as very sci-fi, but I assure you it’s not. Science is what’s behind Xiaolian. Nothing more. Nothing less. With that said, I suspect she’s had training specifically to enhance these natural traits of hers. It’s the only way I can explain her abilities at this age.”
“Are you saying someone wanted Xiaolian to not only look like Abby but to act like her too?” Kang asked.
I followed up Kang’s question with one of my own. “Why on earth would someone want that?”
“Excellent questions. I hope we can answer them one day. Agent Kane, would you consider yourself athletic?”
Kang jumped in, “I can answer that question for her with a resounding ‘Yes.’”
“Tell me you’re not making this comparison as well,” I said, “because I definitely didn’t see Xiaolian as athletic.”
“Oh? Very interesting.” Yates tapped a finger on a pad of paper he had been using to take notes. He stood up. “Follow me. It’s time you met with her.”
We followed him to the very end of the hall, where he pointed at a closed door. “Agent Kane, Xiaolian is just through that door. Agent Kang, I’d like for you to join me in the observation room.”
Chapter Four
I pushed down on the metal handle and slowly opened the door. Before I saw her, a familiar drumming sound filled my ears, telling me exactly what she was up to. Dressed in workout clothes, Xiaolian stood flat-footed in front of a speed bag. Her tiny fists were wrapped with athletic tape, and they alternated in pummeling the hanging bag. Perspiration flew off her arms as she drilled the leather pouch, telling me she had been at it for quite some time.
“Abby, is that you?” she called out without looking back.
They must have told her I was coming.
“It is,” I answered. “How are you, Xiaolian?” I closed the door behind me.
She said nothing as she continued her workout.
Lined up along the wall were a treadmill, an elliptical machine, a rack containing free weights, and a heavy bag. In the center of the room was a large, rectangular floor mat. Off to the side of where I stood was a small table with bottled waters neatly lined on top. There were no mirrors on the walls, except for the reflective glass that I assumed had an observation room on the other side of it. I spied a camera in one of the corners of the ceiling.
I took a few steps forward. She still hadn’t turned around, not even a glance.
The leather bag hung from an adjustable platform, allowing it to be at the right height for her, in line with her eyes. She stood square in front of it with her feet at equal distance. Both fists were held up in front of her, close to the bag, and moved in a tiny circle.
Right, right, left, left, she attacked. Each hit sent the bag swinging back and forth, creating a cadence of accented and unaccented beats. Her rhythm was spot-on.
“I had no idea you were a boxer.”
“There’s much you don’t know about me.”
“Enlighten me.”
By then I was standing to the side of her. She looked at me and continued to hit the bag, never missing a beat. She returned her eyes to the bag and gave it a knockout finish. Her chest rose and fell with her rapid breathing. Her face and neck were slick. She grabbed a bottle of water off the floor and gulped. As she did, she signaled with her eyes to the bag.
I was a little taken aback by the new Xiaolian. This wasn’t the meek little girl I had known. Where did this attitude come from? With that said, I wasn’t about to let some little girl show me up.
I stepped up to the bag and adjusted its height. I raised both fists and went to work.
One, two, three.
One, two, three.
One, two, three.
The same cadence that Xiaolian had created earlier rang out.
She shrugged. So I stepped it up and switched to a double punch.
One, one, two, three.
One, one, two, three.
One, one, two, three.
I then switched to a double bounce punch, where my fist hit the bag not only from the front but also from the back. I started with a single fist. Once I had a nice cadence, I added my second fist. This particular drill created a sound much like that of a snare drum roll.
Even though I was focused on the bag, I could sense Xiaolian watching me intensely. A quick glance showed me her wide eyes and slack jaw.
There’s more, little grasshopper.
I then alternated between one-fist strikes and two-fists strikes. And finally, to up the ante even more and to make sure that cocky attitude of hers was properly adjusted, I allowed my eyes to settle on her while my fists perfectly connected with the bag.
Yeah, I can do the whole no-look thing too. “It’s been a long time since I worked with the speed bag. I forgot how fun and easy it is.”
Xiaolian quickly composed herself and shrugged. I delivered a final crushing blow to the bag. Back and forth it swung until the squeaking of the hinge finally stopped.
“There’s water on the table if you’re thirsty,” she said, pointing.
“I need a much tougher workout to build up a thirst,” I answered. “But you help yourself to another bottle.”
Xiaolian walked over to the mat. On the floor next to it were two sets of boxing gloves. She picked up a pair and slipped them on. Then she kicked the other set over to me.
Dumb move.
I removed my jacket, my Chuck Taylors, and my socks, leaving me in just my jeans and a T-shirt. I slipped on the gloves before stepping on the mat. We circled, neither one of us smiling. Even with my short stature, I still had a height advantage over her, and my reach was longer.
Xiaolian struck first with a jab, looking to define the distance. My head swiveled away with each strike. She moved in closer and continued with the jabs, her confidence building, probably because I had yet to throw a punch.
She delivered a combination, and her left hand caught my chin just as I jerked my head back. A slight smile formed on her face.
Kang and Yates stood silently watching from behind the glass partition. The room was mic’d, so they could hear everything that Abby and Xiaolian were saying, which wasn’t much. The action spoke louder than words anyway.
“Perhaps I should step in and put a stop to this,” Yates said.
Kang grabbed his arm. “Nah, let them go. I know Abby; she’ll go easy on the girl.”
“I was actually worried about Agent Kane,” Yates countered. “I’ve seen Xiaolian hit the heavy bag. She’s had training. I’d hate to see Agent Kane get hurt.”
Kang looked at the doctor. “You don’t know Abby.”
They both watched as Abby and Xiaolian exchanged blows, neither one fully c
onnecting.
“I hope you’re right.”
No sooner had Yates uttered those words than Xiaolian was lying flat on her back. Abby had connected with a solid left.
“My God, she hit her. She knocked her down. I thought they were playing around.”
“I told you—you don’t know Abby very well,” Kang said.
“This has got to stop.”
“Xiaolian asked for it. Let them be.”
They watched Xiaolian jump back to her feet. A look of determination fell over her face. A few seconds later, she went down again. She knelt on the mat for a moment, shaking the cobwebs from her head. Then she stood back up with raised fists.
Abby proceeded to pick her defenses apart, snapping Xiaolian’s head back with stinging jabs.
“Agent Kane looks like she’s enjoying this.”
“Yup,” Kang said cheerfully. He had his hands buried in the pockets of his slacks as he rocked back and forth, heel to toe.
Yates turned to Kang, his brow crinkled. “Don’t tell me you are as well. This is absurd.”
A high-pitched squeal yanked Yates’s attention back to the action inside the room. Xiaolian was down on both knees, holding her gloves up to her face while Abby stood over her.
I slipped my gloves off one at time as I looked down at Xiaolian. I could hear her sniffling behind her gloves. Did I feel bad? A little, but I think I hurt her ego more than I did her face.
She parted her gloves enough to look at me. Tears streamed down the sides of her face. “I’m sorry,” she said between stuttered breaths. “It’s this place.” She glanced to the glass partition. “I didn’t mean to.”
I knelt down, and Xiaolian fell into my arms.
“I know you didn’t, sweetie.”
I held her tightly until her cries softened. She pulled her head back. Her eyes were a little swollen.
“Are you mad at me?” she asked.
“No, I’m not.” I wiped a tear from her face. “But I am concerned about you.”
I proceeded to slip her gloves off of her hands. “I’ve never seen this side of you before.”
“I know. I’m lonely here. I want to come home with you. Can I?”
The Curator: SG Trilogy Book 2 (Abby Kane FBI Thriller 8) Page 2