“You’re defending him, all this, even after saying you don’t agree with it.”
“I guess what I am trying to say is his intentions are honorable. Yes he breaks laws and I don’t think he would have any problem paying taxes on the profits, but to do that would only expose this operation. Even without a law against human cloning in place Sans Sanssabre would be shut down and he, along with most of us, could wind up in jail. And then what about the children who have already been placed? The government would want to track down every one of them. Would they be taken away from their parents and made wards of the government and placed under a microscope? At best they’d become food for the hungry tabloid readers.”
“Is the reason for your change of heart that the Congress and Senate are trying to pass a law to make it illegal and now you’re scared?”
“I don’t think it’s so much the law itself that’s done it, but the groundswell of public and religious opinion that’s gotten me looking at it from a different angle. If I truly thought it was the right thing to do I would say to hell with the law. I’m just no longer sure.”
“Because you’re playing God,” Tanya suddenly slips in.
Aileen looks at my wife. “Yes. That’s it exactly. I’ve never been a religious person but that doesn’t mean there isn’t some basic belief in me. Lately it’s been coming out and I’m no longer sure of what I’ve been doing here.”
“In my opinion you’re playing God,” Tanya says. “It’s as simple as that.”
“I wish it were that simple.” Aileen pulls her hair back again and then leans forward on her elbows. “Let me see if I can get these quotes right. These two individuals are respected Moslem leaders. Sheikh Mohammad Hussein Fadlallah is the spiritual guide of Shiite Moslem fundamentalists in Lebanon. He said, ‘It’s false to say that cloning is an attempt to intervene in the divine creation. They,’ meaning the cloning researchers, ‘have not invented new laws. They have only discovered new laws for the organism, just like they discovered laws of in-vitro fertilization and organ transplants. They made these discoveries because God allowed it. We must emerge from the dark ages to which science is an anathema.’ And then there is Sheikh Mohammad ibn Saleh al-Othimin. He is a member of the Council of Ulema. That is a body of Moslem theologians, the highest religious authority in the Saudi kingdom. He said, ‘I think that the lowest penalty imposed on those who invented cloning should be amputation of their hands and feet. Otherwise, they should be executed. It amounts to manipulation of humankind. It’s the worst kind of corruption on earth.’”
“In the name of God one can justify anything,” Tanya argues.
“True. So just because someone says there is a God, does that make it so? Are we playing God or is this God working through us? If God made us and gave us intelligence, then isn’t everything we do by His hand? And if He didn’t make us, in other words there is not a God, then what difference does it all make?”
“Look at the evidence.”
“What evidence?” Aileen says. “Words written in a book? Humankind believed forever that the earth was flat because they knew nothing different and it was knowledge that was passed down through the centuries. Then one day it was proved otherwise. Couldn’t the Bible and Jesus and all that be just the same? They’re just stories passed down through the centuries with nothing more for proof than what someone wrote on pieces of paper, words that hundreds or thousands of religions around the world can’t even agree upon. Maybe someday they’ll be found to be just as false as the flatness of the earth.”
She stops for a minute. “I’m off track. Isn’t cloning just the creation of life from life, which is what in vitro fertilization amounts to?”
“The creation of life,” says a male voice.
We all look up. Henri is standing in the door.
“I never understand how anyone can argue against that. Not only the creation of life but the creation of perfect life, life as God wanted it.” Henri closes the door and walks over near us. “I think God is not pleased with how disease ridden our world is. I think He is pleased that we have discovered a way to alleviate the problems. Instead of trying to cure those that have contracted the diseases we have decided to start creating higher quality people. When we can show how well-adjusted, how perfect these children are as they grow, the tide of public opinion will turn our way. And as far as whether there is a God or not, rest assured there is, and He is well pleased with our progress. He is watching these Montana mountains because He knows that from here will come the future of our world.”
“What’s to keep this new race from contracting the existing diseases?” I ask.
“Our main emphasis is health and intelligence. Strong in body and strong in mind. These children will grow up healthy with an immune system that will be able to battle off the diseases. We don’t just turn them over to loving couples and forget about them. We pass along a program of diet and nutrition that the new guardians have to agree to follow, not only for the children, but for themselves.”
“Guardians?”
“They may refer to themselves as the child’s parents. To us they are their guardians. They are the guardians of our future leaders–a tremendous responsibility.”
“What if these guardians don’t raise the children with the values you want?”
Henri laughs. “They will.”
I don’t like those two words. It smacks of Big Brother. I can see cameras and microphones stationed throughout the guardians’ homes–Big Brother’s eye keeping a watch on them, ready to zap them if they do wrong. “Who killed Doctor McCully?”
“Excuse me,” Henri says.
“When McCully started having second thoughts about all this, when he threatened to expose this company, who killed him?”
“Where did you get such an idea? Simon killed him. That was quite obvious.”
“Simon was the doctor’s pet.”
“Pets have turned on their masters throughout the centuries. That’s nothing new. It’s a risk when one keeps a predatory animal.”
“The same with Thomas and Lester?” I say.
“What exactly is this, Mister Price? Are you thinking there’s a murder conspiracy going on here? You yourself witnessed two of them. No person had a hand in those deaths. They were unfortunate tragedies, only coincidental that they happened so close together.”
“Too coincidental, if you ask me.”
“Sometimes shit happens, as they say, in the strangest ways. Nothing we can do about the timing of tragedies, is there?”
“You have illegal immigrant men working the barn, feeding and bringing in animals. I understand they’re paid well for a time and then turned loose into American society. If so, why do they need armed guards?”
“This is a highly secret facility. You can see that for yourself. Go to any military installation where there are nuclear weapons and you are going to see armed security and you will see them challenge and watch their own military personal.”
“And what about . . ?”
Henri holds up his hands. “Stop, Mister Price. I do not want to stand here and defend San Sanssabre against a negative and derogatory assault. This is the prime reason I did not want a reporter in residence.” He turns to Aileen. “I am highly disappointed in you. You have been here since the beginning and now this.”
“What are you going to do with us?” Tanya asks.
“Not my decision, I’m afraid. We’ll have to wait until Victor and Lance return tomorrow. For right now I can’t have you wandering around the building. We currently have one pod unoccupied. The three of you will spend the night there.”
“What about . . .?”
“Enough, Ms. Bravelli. You will all do as I say. You have no choice. We can go there now peacefully or I can call security to escort you.”
Tanya stands. “We don’t need guns on us.”
Aileen rises slowly and then steadies herself on the arm of the sofa.
Henri opens the door and we follow him out.
&
nbsp; Chapter 25
Originally believed to be smaller than a lion and twice as heavy, these nutritionally enhanced carnivores of Sans Sanssabre are a hand taller, and may push 900 pounds.
–from the journals of Zechariah Price
Our new environment is nicer than my apartment except there’re no big windows. A dining table sits in place of the sofa. The living area is huge with a wide screen television and plenty of seating. I don’t even have a television. The kitchen is larger and of course there are four bedrooms instead of one.
We have nothing with us except the clothes on our backs. I ask if we could retrieve some of our belongings.
“I’ll have a few things brought down for you,” is all Henri says before he leaves.
Aileen sits down and Tanya goes into the kitchen. I turn on the television and search down the remote. By the time I’ve found it Tanya has turned the television off. I give her the questioning look.
“We need to talk,” she says.
“They listen to everything we say. What’s the point?”
She looks around and then says, “Fine!” She turns the TV back on and then picks a bedroom and disappears.
I point the remote and start cycling through the channels. When I find nothing that holds my attention for longer than ten seconds, I start over.
Aileen gets up, finds a different bedroom and closes the door.
I turn off the TV and look at the two bedroom doors where the women have gone. I am not looking forward to the night. Where do I sleep? Am I invited into Tanya’s bed or do I have a choice of the other two bedrooms?
Stupid question. I pick the closest empty bedroom and make myself prone on the bed.
Now what, Mister Price? You’ve managed to dig a hole and drag your wife in with you, and maybe Aileen Bravelli as well, although she may have been slowly digging her own hole all along. Is Henri telling the truth in that he doesn’t believe anyone was deliberately killed? He did seem genuinely shocked at my mention of murder. Could he be that naïve, that unaware of what’s going on? Or am I the one jumping to conclusions and this is all nothing but a bunch of coincidences?
I remind myself that there is no such thing as coincidences–most of the time.
What about this time?
I can’t get a read on Henri Cassell. That is not unusual. In a room of ten people I can generally get anywhere from a strong read to some hazy impressions on about half of them. For the rest, there is nothing. I’ve never read about my ability and now wish I had. Why have I not been curious?
What is in store for us tomorrow? If murder in fact exists on the premises of Sans Sanssabre, then a few more would make little difference.
I get off the bed and pace.
We could overpower the guard, steal his weapon and escape to the roof where we could hijack a helicopter. We could take the pilot hostage and force him to fly us out. We could then disable the helicopter and radio, tie him inside of it and continue our escape to the nearest law enforcement office. Or I could fly it myself. I’m sure I could remember.
We could, instead, escape through the gardens; take our chances with the animals. They’ve got a cow and the Mexican. They can’t be hungry enough to want us. Maybe they’d let us pass on through. Maybe!
Does this breed of sabre-toothed cat kill just for the joy of it?
No possible way. Only man does that?
But sometimes animals protect their territory or their young. Would the males think we are a threat to their pregnant mates or to their territory in general? Do they patrol the entire area? I’ve never seen them out my window. If we escape in that direction, or out the front, could we get over the fences without encountering the cats?
“Mister Price.” Ulla is standing in the bedroom doorway. “I’ve brought a few things for you and your wife, and Ms. Bravelli.” She walks back into the living room. I follow. “You’ll find meat in the refrigerator, and bread, and something for your dinner tonight. I’ll bring you breakfast in the morning.”
“What do you think will happen to us, Ulla?”
“You shouldn’t need anything else.” The normally warm and friendly Ulla is now like ice. She goes to the door and then is gone.
On the counter sits Tanya’s travel case containing her personal stuff. There are two one-gallon-size zip-lock bags sitting next to it. Inside one I recognize my razor, toothbrush and things. In the other I am sure are Aileen’s things. Draped over a sofa are two nightgowns and two bathrobes. One set I recognize as Tanya’s. The other I guiltily recognize as Aileen’s. I go make a sandwich.
I am deeply engrossed in my second boring movie when I realize one of the women has gotten up. The noise from the kitchen must be Tanya because I can see Aileen’s closed bedroom door from my angle. I don’t move until she settles onto the sofa next to me with a plate of deli meat and cheese. I pick up the remote and punch the power button.
She takes it from me, analyzes it for a few seconds and then turns the television back on. The volume was low. She pushes that up and then scoots closer to me. The touch of her hip against mine feels good.
“Don’t get any ideas,” she says. “I want to talk and I don’t want anyone hearing us. The sound should mask our voices, don’t you think?”
The good feeling fades. “Sure.”
She slouches down to my level and sticks a chunk of cheese in her mouth. “First, I want to tell you where I’m at.”
She follows the cheese with a piece of meat. I wait while she chews.
“I don’t want a divorce.”
There is something deep inside of me that breathes a sigh of relief. There is something else inside of me that sits up straight and waits for the however. “Okay”
More cheese. More meat. I wonder if she’ll share. I don’t ask. A second clicks by with each pair of my heartbeats. I actually count seventy-three beats before she says anything else.
“However, we still have a problem.”
“I don’t want to see you anymore,” a woman in the movie says. I don’t recognize the actress, or the actor for that matter. They are in a noisy restaurant. “I don’t understand,” he says.
“I understand,” I say.
“No. I don’t think you do.” Tanya offers me a piece of cheese. I decline. “It’s more than just the fact that you screwed Aileen. The problem goes much deeper than that.”
“It’s quite simple,” the woman in the movie says. “You cheated. I quit. I don’t give second chances.” The man takes the woman’s hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt . . .”
“Deeper?” I say. “What do you mean?”
“I’m asking you to agree to counseling, both for our marriage and your career.”
The woman takes back the hand. She’s acting cold but I can see she hates what she’s doing. She wants him more than ever, but she’s angry to the point that she must put on the iron mask to hold it in. “It was nice knowing you,” she says as she rises. She removes a ring, drops it on the table and walks away. Instead of watching her, he stares at the ring. I wish I could turn it off.
The diamond on Tanya’s ring sparkles as she picks up a piece of meat and brings it to her mouth. I hate counseling. They’re just going to ask me a lot of psycho babble questions. “Okay.”
The man suddenly realizes that a waitress is asking him a question. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Will the lady be returning?” she says. He picks up the ring and turns it around in his fingers. “Not this time,” he says quietly. “Not this time.”
“Not just okay,” Tanya says. “I want you to promise. I want you to see Doctor Richardson.”
“Whatever you say.”
“I want you to promise.”
I take a deep breath. “I promise.”
“The first thing you do when we get back is call her and make the appointment.”
“I will.” I’ll agree to anything; and I’m sincere . . . at least I think I am.
“Now, what are we going to do about this situation?”
I
consider my escape ideas, realize the foolishness of them, and say, “I don’t think it’s what we can do. I think it’s what Victor and Lance will do.”
“I know Victor is the CEO. Who is Lance?”
“Lance Evans. He’s Vice President of Publicity and Documentation. I think he’s either Victor’s right hand man or his gofer. He’s the one who hired me.”
“What about this Henri guy. Who is he?”
“He’s the CFO.”
“He acts more like the sheriff, don’t you think?”
“Maybe; or he’s liking playing top dog in the absence of the other two.”
The last piece of cheese disappears. “Do you think there’s any way of escaping out of here?”
Again I squelch my escape ideas. “Too much risk.”
“If they intend on killing us, there’s no such thing as too much risk.”
“We don’t know that.”
“You said they killed Doctor McCully and three other people have died.”
“Yes, but the last one was his own fault. He tried escaping and one of the cats got him. And Henri was right. I witnessed two of the others. They were attacked by the Bengal tigers. They couldn’t have been murdered.”
“Could it have been set up?”
“Maybe with Thomas Holm. But I see no way with Lester, the security guard, unless someone had some kind of mind control over the animals. I don’t see where that’s possible.”
“I didn’t think making babies on a mass scale like this was possible either, or bringing back the sabre-tooth tiger.”
“Cat,” I correct.
“Huh?”
“They’re sabre-toothed cats, not tigers.”
“What’s the difference?”
“They’re of the Carnivora which contain cats, dogs, bears and such. They are of the family Felidae and subfamily Machairodontinae. The ones here are of the genus Smilodon, or Smilodon fatalis.”
Sabre-Toothed Cat Trilogy Page 22