Chapter 24
If I was expecting anything, which I wasn’t, this wouldn’t have been it. You could probably convince me, if I didn’t already know better, that this is where Victor conferences with CEOs of huge corporations, or meets with the heads of state. Extravagant is the word.
Tanya touches my neck. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You shouldn’t have challenged him.”
“He grabbed you and then something inside me went red. I’ll be okay.”
She looks at Aileen who is now prone on one of two leather sofas. “How are you doing?”
“I’ll be fine,” Aileen groans past the arm draped over her eyes, “once I lose this headache.”
Tanya walks over and sits next to her. She places her hand on her face. “You could have a concussion.”
“Maybe. But I’ll live.”
I drop into a nearby chair. “What is this place? Where are we?”
Aileen doesn’t say anything.
My anger starts rising. I try to keep it out of my voice. “I think it’s time for us to know so that we can get some idea what we’re in for. We know the subbasement exists. What do you do here?”
She lifts her arm from her eyes, looks at me and then at Tanya. “Can we kill some of the lights?”
I leave my chair to turn on a lamp and then to flip off the overhead lights.
“Much better.” She sits up. After a few seconds she takes a deep breath. “This is a baby factory.”
Neither Tanya nor I say anything. We wait for her to continue. I start pacing.
“We . . . No! I’m not part of this anymore. They. . . make perfect babies.”
“Humph! I was right,” I say. “Vandermill is growing the master race.”
She starts to shake her head. Pain erupts on her face.
“Babies for sale?” Tanya says.
“Yes.” Aileen slowly nods her head. “Four million dollars a pop and each guaranteed to be perfect mentally and physically.”
Tanya sits back on the sofa. “Oh my God.”
“They come with birth certificates from one of thirty-five hospitals across the country. Just pick one and presto. Not only do you have an adoption certificate but there’s a medical record to go with it to show the mother carried for nine months and had a very normal and easy vaginal birth and voluntarily gave it up for adoption.”
“And you condone this?”
“No.”
“Then how can you. . .?”
She holds up her hand. “There’s nothing I could have done short of notifying authorities. I would have implicated myself because in the beginning I wasn’t all that much against it. One of the first couples we had lost their natural baby to Downs Syndrome before he was three. She was scared to try to conceive again. I helped bring her to Victor, assisted in the counseling to determine if they’d be suited for a Sans Sanssabre baby. That was early-on when we had only a few in the oven.”
“In the oven?”
“In the womb.”
“Host mothers,” I say.
“Surrogate mothers, yes. Could you sit down?”
I ignore her. My pacing helps channel my anger into thinking. “Let me guess. Illegal Mexican women.”
Aileen sighs deeply. “Yes.”
“And they live right down here, don’t they? From conception . . . or should I say implantation . . . on.”
“They’re treated very well, much better than where they came from.”
“But they never get out of this cellar, do they?”
“Not for ten months or so, no. But after the birth they rejoin their families who will have already been brought out of Mexico and set up somewhere. They’re given more than enough money to start a new life as American citizens.”
“All’s well that ends well.” I’m flabbergasted. “There’s something immoral here.”
“I don’t disagree, but it’s still a matter of opinion when it really comes down to it. And there’s no law against it, at least not yet. Congress is working on it, however. When we started there wasn’t even a thought about it.”
“You smuggle Mexicans across the border for labor. You impregnate Mexican women. And people are being murdered. At least two of those are illegal. And if there’s not a law against cloning humans, why is it so secret? Why the armed guards and attack sabre-toothed cats? If it’s not illegal and you all think it’s the right thing to do, why don’t you invite American women to become the host mothers. I’m sure they’d be standing in line, fighting for the same thing you say you’re giving these Mexican families.”
“Remember the firebombing of the abortion clinics, doctors getting shot, patients being harassed?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “It would be even worse in this case. Cloning of humans is already turning into a hot issue, and as far as we know, it hasn’t been done yet. Sure there’s been experimentation but it’s never been allowed to go past a few cell divisions. At least no one is admitting to going beyond that. There’s discussion going on about therapeutic cloning–growing organs–and that alone has created some hot heads. Every church in the world is already taking a stand or is at least looking at it and preparing to take a stand on human cloning and therapeutic cloning. Press speculation and the rumor-mill certainly are adding to it. There’re companies being formed right now to clone your recently departed pet and that’s starting a run of public opinion. They aren’t doing it yet, at least not above ground, but the foundation is being set. They’re beginning to collect samples from live pets. People are putting out thousands of dollars to store the DNA of their dogs and cats in preparation for the loss of their animal.”
“Can they do that?” Tanya asks. “Give you back the same dog you had?”
Aileen shakes her head. “There’ll be disclaimers, I’m sure. What people love about their pets is their personality. DNA does not make a personality. That part is completely up to them and the environment. It’ll still be a booming market once the government allows the licensing.”
“And the reason they are not actually making animals for market is that it would be illegal,” I say. “It’s not approved and monitored by the government.”
“Illegal means there is a law against it. No such law exists at this time. It isn’t being done yet because nobody but us has perfected it.” She becomes defensive. “Why can’t people who can afford it have a normal, healthy child without the government getting involved? They and every human rights and religious group in existence will create such a mess of it that no one will know right from wrong. They’ll take everything out of context, like they do with all things, and turn it into an expensive legal battle, not to mention a media circus.”
“I thought you were against this.”
Aileen runs her hand through her hair and stops where the lamp hit her. She winces. “Yes, I’m confused, but this is helping a lot of people and harming no one. There are couples out there with a lot of money who want healthy children. There are Mexican families who want a new start in America. Sans Sanssabre puts them together.”
“And takes a big cut.”
“Yes, and a lot of that cut goes to the people down here in the trenches who make it all happen.”
“It also goes into Victor’s pockets.”
“Certainly. And do you know what that money does? Do you have any idea what the money of most of the wealthy of the world does?”
“What?”
“Employs people. Investments lay the foundation for growth in other businesses which leads to jobs. The rich are rich because they have invested in other people. The poor stay poor because they only invest in themselves.”
“Or you could say the rich get rich on the backs of the poor.”
“The poor stay poor because they are not willing or don’t have the knowhow to do anything else.”
“And on the backs of the middle class,” I add.
“The middle class are just poor people who make a little bit more money. They are not middle class bec
ause they invested their way there.”
“They’re middle class because they did hard, honest work to get there.”
“Stop it!” Tanya suddenly blurts. “I’m locked up like a prisoner in a place that makes babies while my husband and the woman he sleeps with argue over whether someone should or should not be rich.”
Aileen and I look down at our toes.
“Legal or ethical in baby making at the moment is not so much the issue. Murder is definitely illegal, especially when we may be on the receiving end of it.” Tears start running down her cheeks. “I’m trying to keep my head about this, stay light, stay upbeat, keep my chin up; but shit I’m scared as hell. The two people I should be putting my head together with so we can get out of this are the two people that I should hate the most and they’re arguing over ethics.”
She retrieves a box of tissues from across the room and returns to the sofa. “How’s your head?”
Aileen closes her eyes and rolls her head slowly. “I could sure use a pain killer.”
Tanya looks around. “Where are we?”
“This is the reception area and the final departure area. By the time a prospective couple reaches here, they have already gone through several months of background checks and counseling and they have made the financial commitment.”
“Then they are not prospects anymore,” I say.
“No. I guess not. Victor doesn’t bring them in this far unless they are totally on board. If you’ll notice, there’s a projection screen in the ceiling that can be pulled down, and a projection room over there. There’s an hour presentation to show them the actual procedure before giving them a tour of the facility. One thing that really can throw the entire thing off is to see Mexican women carrying the babies. They have a hard time accepting that what they will get will be a one hundred percent Caucasian child or a one hundred percent African child or one hundred percent French, whatever. Believe me, Zach, there is no discrimination here. Once they understand the stripping of the egg and the implanting of a perfect DNA they are happy to go away and wait nine months. This is also the area where they receive their two-week-old baby.”
“There are babies here right now, waiting to be picked up?” Tanya asks.
“I don’t know. I haven’t been directly involved in this for a long time.”
“How many women are here?”
“Surrogate mothers . . . the ladies.” Aileen says. “That’s what we call them. There are probably between twenty and twenty-four.”
“Two dozen women are sequestered in this place for nearly a year,” I say.
“Ten months on the average when all is said and done.”
I do some mental calculations. “So Victor makes somewhere near a hundred million a year.”
“No. Maybe half that after expenses.”
“Alright. Maybe fifty million. Somehow or other he escapes taxes on that, I bet.”
“I don’t know.”
“He does, no doubt. One more illegal thing about this. He makes an easy fifty million off the backs of a bunch of illegal Mexican immigrants and wealthy child-starved couples.”
“Where else can a Mexican woman with a husband and children living in a hovel . . . go down to their country sometime and see the conditions they exist in. Where else can she work for ten months and walk away with a couple hundred thousand American dollars plus an American citizenship for herself and her family?”
“An illegal citizenship.” I point a finger at her.
“It’ll stand up in any court.”
“Still illegal.”
“The means justifies the end.”
“Really!”
“Knock it off!” Tanya has to scream above our argument.
Aileen’s voice softens. “Yes. Knock it off, please. Tanya’s right. We may have our lives to worry about. I don’t know why we’ve been brought here or what they intend to do. They’ve never been this way before, this forceful anyway. Maybe it’s because Henri is in charge right now.”
“Who do you think killed McCully?” I ask.
“I let you conclude that Victor did it out of jealousy. I really don’t think that was the case.”
“Why?”
“I couldn’t say it at the time because you didn’t know about this, but since you now do I can say that there has been a groundswell of disagreement over the cloning babies issue. Several people are finding a conscience and expressing their concerns to Victor that they don’t know if they can do this anymore.”
“Let me guess. Doctor McCully and Thomas Holm.”
She nods her head.
“But not Lester the guard?”
“He was a pure accident, I’m sure,” she says.
“How come the sheriff showed for Thomas but not for Doctor McCully?”
“I doubt the sheriff knew about Peter. It was the first animal attack we have ever had. I think the police wrote it up and filed it immediately. Two in a week would have gotten his attention, I’m sure.”
“What about Lester?”
“I believe that one will be kept quiet. Lester had no family except a sister in Rhode Island who he hasn’t made contact with in twenty years.”
“He’s removed from the employee roles and that’s that?”
“I guess.” She looks away.
“Who else?”
She looks back at me. “What do you mean?”
“Who else is having a conscience? Who else may be next on the elimination list?”
“I don’t know.”
“What about Professor Boggs?”
“Maybe . . . Yes, I guess so.”
“And Wolf Oberlin, or has he already been eliminated and we were told he went back to India to take care of a sick mother.”
“I ah . . . I don’t know. I never thought of that, but yes, I do know he didn’t much like it.”
“Does everyone know what’s going on down here?”
“Certainly.”
“Except me.”
“Yes, except you. You would have been told in time. Things got a little crazy all of a sudden with all the deaths. You were left hanging.”
“No kidding.” I pace for a few seconds. “What was I actually brought on board for? Not just the sabre-toothed cats, right? Was I eventually going to write about the cloned babies being born and the two dozen pregnant Mexican women under house detention for nearly a year?”
“Despite what you or I may feel about cloning, the house detention, as you call it, is a hell of a lot better than anything most of them have seen in their lives. They’re treated wonderfully with the best food and living conditions. They’re also educated while they’re here so that when they leave they’ll be able to better cope with the American lifestyle in the real world. This is heaven for them. Some beg to come back. They’re allowed to write to their families. We don’t monitor that very much because they don’t know where they are or even what the program they’ve been brought into is about.”
“They just suddenly become pregnant?” Tanya asks.
“They’re told they’ll have a clinical conception from donor sperm. It’s no surprise to them. It’s part of their agreement. I have absolutely no problem with that as they are so very well taken care of. All of them are married and their husbands are being educated at the same time. It’s only the cloning aspect that I and the others have been having second thoughts on. Playing God.”
“Anyone else who may be having second thoughts?” I ask.
She shakes her head slowly. “No, I don’t think so.”
“What about Traci Strong?”
“No. That was a disagreement she and Peter had.”
“Hm.” I walk over to the door and check if it is locked. It is. I look up and around. There’s a camera in the corner just like the one in Victor’s apartment. I don’t care about the cameras anymore. “How large is the staff?” I ask.
“Down here? Oh, I guess about a half dozen nurses, a doctor, a janitor. The ladies maintain their own living quarters.”
She thinks for a minute. “Around twenty I guess.”
“Plus the two dozen pregnant women; that makes forty plus. I don’t see where that many people live in this building.”
“All you’ve seen, Zach, is one part of the building. That part consists of the fourth floor which is the executive area, the third floor for middle management, about half of the second floor, a quarter of the first floor, a third of the first sublevel, and the vault on the second sublevel. The other part of the building is where the surrogate mothers and their staff live. It consists of the remainder of the first and second floors and the sublevels. The nurses and doctor take up the second and part of the first floor. The ladies reside throughout the first floor and the sublevels. They live in pods of four, each having their own bedroom and sharing a bath with one other. They share a common kitchen and living area.”
“What about the men?”
“What men?”
“The Mexican men I saw working in the barn. Where do they come from? Where do they live?”
“There are living quarters for them in another area of the property.”
“Hidden away from the world, I imagine.”
“Of course. They are also illegals.”
“Are they the ladies’ husbands?”
“No. There are no relations between them. We considered it, but decided that it would not work. The ladies do not know the men are here and vise-a-versa. The men are here on a work program. They are paid very well and like the ladies, receive classroom time in how to manage their money. Victor cares very much about these people. He isn’t just using them to use them. He employs them, pays them well and then educates them on how to manage their lives in America. He even helps them get jobs elsewhere.”
“You make him sound like a saint.”
She sighs again. “I don’t mean to. He does have a good heart.”
“It sounds to me like he could do better just employing local people.”
“First of all, local people won’t keep their mouth shut. Second, these Mexicans are going to attempt to cross the border anyway. If they make it a lot of them will wind up a burden on society, costing the tax payer. Some die in the attempt. Many are caught and turned back. Most spend their life savings to get across.”
Sabre-Toothed Cat Trilogy Page 21