by Nesly Clerge
We’d made certain Sasha and her crew were in good health, and to time the interview after the infant was fed, burped, changed, and bathed. I held the sleeping infant in such a way that the camera, stationed three yards away, on my orders, could zoom in on his face. I’d deliberately left one of his arms free of the swaddling.
Sasha’s gaze fixed on his face. “Is he okay?”
“He’s in perfect health in every way.”
She slid a finger into his curled hand. His tiny hand instinctively curled around it. Turning tear-filled eyes to the camera, voice choked, she said, “He’s beautiful.” Her eyes focused back on me. “May I hold him?”
“Of course.” I transferred him into her arms.
Numerous times, she attempted to ask questions but struggled to get the words out. Half-sobbing, she faced the camera. “I’m sorry, viewers. Someone with my professional experience should be able to—” She took several seconds to swallow hard more than once. “Should be able to …” She cuddled the infant to her and rested a wet cheek on his downy blond hair. Her shoulders moved up and down as she sobbed.
I smiled like an ecstatic saint and placed an arm around her. My gaze drifted to the clock on the wall. I whispered in her ear, “You have a minute left.”
She nodded, sniffed several times, straightened her posture and said, “What is this precious treasure’s name?”
I looked into the camera. “Kane. K-A-N-E.”
She shook her hair, vivid orange this time, from her face. “Is the K part for Katherine?”
“No.” I let go of her and said, “Time to get him back to his usual routine.”
She handed him back to me reluctantly and said, “We can expect more such miracles?”
“They’re happening as we speak.”
I left her and the cameraman to pack up under a security team’s supervision, relieved she’d asked no questions about the male host. Neither did the warden or governor question the host’s death when our report was made to them.
As Agatha had said, our result held more significance.
CHAPTER 101
By the end of August 2017, we’d delivered two girls and a boy. The male hosts survived, and once fully recuperated, returned to their former, permanent residence uterus-free.
We hated losing the uteruses, but it wasn’t feasible for the prisons to do what it would take to maintain them in the hosts. Nor could we recycle the organs. We saw the writing on the proverbial, future wall about this, but we’d deal with that at a later time, especially as we still believed we could reverse the lack of conception in women matter.
As with Kane, the infants had their moments in front of the camera with an emotional Sasha. Also as with Kane, we waited another month then turned them over to the couples who’d contributed the eggs and sperm. Our sperm bank raid had been mostly for nothing. Still, I asked Connie to keep the containers on ice, in case needed for the future.
When the last infant left us, Agatha and I met in my office to sip tea and discuss how to proceed. We debated whether we should continue using prisoners for another period of time or whether it was time to train select medical professionals so as to expand this service to the public. We decided it was prudent to handle procedures for the first general public males ourselves. However, we’d use prisoners for another year or two, to establish a standard for procedure.
“How is your other research going?” I asked.
“I’m excited about the prospects.”
“What are you doing that hasn’t been done?”
“I had the thought to use heat on cancer cells.”
“That’s a new one. How’d you come up with that?”
“Sort of a two-plus-two, I-wonder-if idea while reading something about infrared treatment for diabetic patients. We did a number of tests on mice we gave cancer to and saw that cancer cells began to die off when the tumor was heated to somewhere between 104 and 106 degrees.”
I grinned. “That explains the purchase of the far infrared sauna unit. I thought you ordered it so you and the other scientists could relax, which would have been fine. So, your results are satisfactory?”
“To a point. We added other protocols to amplify results. Filtered water, organic foods, which we amped up with beetroot and chlorophyll, vitamins, and so forth. Basically, anything that would detox their furry little bodies and boost their immune systems. The results pleased us so much we’ve moved to rats. So far so good. However, in at most a month, we’d like to use one of the chimps.”
I nodded. “Any but Mada or Michael.”
“That goes without saying.”
***
By the end of October, four new prisoners were recovering from transplants. As for Agatha, she wasted no time moving from rats to a chimp, which she’d given cancer to at the end of September. She’d escalated the cancer’s speed of growth for a month then began her protocol. By May 2018, the chimp was cancer-free.
I asked her if she wanted to make a public announcement. She declined, stating she wanted to test the result on at least three more chimps and a few humans first.
Two weeks passed, and I received an envelope sent overnight, handed over to me after security X-rayed it and ran it through a variety of scans.
I looked at the sender’s name, which was unfamiliar to me, and began to read.
Dear Dr. Barnes,
My wife and I are in urgent need of your help. Please allow me to give you a brief, candid summary of our situation.
I was wrongly incarcerated at Sands Correctional Facility in Massachusetts. Let me clarify—I was guilty in part, but not of what led to my imprisonment. I faced unfathomable situations during that time and, thankfully, the truth came out and I was released around this time last year.
While incarcerated, my wife, Kayla, was diagnosed with uterine cancer, listed as terminal, and given only months to live. I believe her strong-willed nature (I used to call her stubborn) has allowed her to survive as long as possible for the sake of our three children.
It seems that with your proven solution to the conception matter, and now this new treatment in what I would call a stellar oncology department, you and your team are miracle workers.
I’m a wealthy man, Dr. Barnes. I’d happily make a generous donation to your organization. I beg you to help us. The status quo she’s had so far is beginning to falter. She desperately wants to live. Our son’s birthday is in several months. Please help us celebrate it without a death sentence hanging over our heads.
Sincerely,
Frederick Starks
I remained in my desk chair, staring at the letter for several moments. Ignoring my ringing phone, I grabbed the letter and envelope, and hurried down to Lavender.
She read the letter and said, “Hmm.”
“Indeed. I don’t know that you can find out how he knows about the oncology work, but I want you to find out everything you can about him. How fast can you get something to me?”
“Faster if I start now.”
“His awareness of what’s what here makes me uncomfortable.”
“I hear you. It may be tomorrow before I have results for you. I want to be extra thorough.”
“I’ll leave you to it.” I started to walk away, turned back, and rested a hand gently on her shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Thank Patricia.”
“I do. Often.”
I’ve found that work is the best way to cope with stress at times. This was not one of those times. I couldn’t get Frederick Starks’s letter out of my mind.
***
Just after four the next day, Lavender texted to see if we could meet in my office. I waited on the sofa and jumped when the wall panel opened. She entered carrying a far larger stack of material than I’d anticipated. I stared wide-eyed at the thick folders in her arms. “Who is this person?”
“Relax.” She pushed the panel closed and joined me. “I looked up more than him. Sometimes it’s a good idea to research the people closest to a person.” She placed
the folders between us on the sofa.
“You’re extraordinary.”
“Back at you.” She pulled the weighty top folder from the stack and handed it to me. “Frederick Starks. I’ve got info on him, starting with his birth, and, of course, everything I could find since then.”
I opened the folder. Lavender tapped the top sheet and said, “Included in there is everything I could get on his criminal case—arrest, trial, incarceration—anything related to that time. This guy’s something else, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t see everything.”
“What do you mean?”
“I kind of read between the lines about him. I’d bet anything someone protected him at that prison and didn’t include some of the finer details.”
“Should make for interesting reading.”
“Behind those papers are his assets for the last ten years.”
“He said he was wealthy.”
“Did pretty good for a guy behind bars for almost two years.”
I placed the file on the floor.
She handed the next folder to me. “That’s the file on his wife. I don’t know whether I like her, want to give her a good shake, or commiserate with her.”
“Her husband called her strong-willed.”
Lavender snorted a laugh and handed me a third folder. “This one’s about his business.”
“Tendum Enterprises. Never heard of it.”
“It’s on its way to being worth almost a billion dollars. Value dropped a bit when he got sentenced, but started back up with the help of this guy.”
She handed me the last folder. “Jeffrey Davis. He increased revenue through acquisition of some major contracts and several firms. He’s also a lifelong friend of Freddie-boy. You might say they used to party hearty together.”
“This is a lot to read.”
“It has a certain level of entertainment value.”
“I’m impressed with your efforts.”
“I hope you don’t mind, but I used some of the other techs so we could cover more ground faster.”
“I don’t mind. Give them my thanks.”
She stood and stretched. “What’s the next step with this guy?”
“The next step is to pour over this information.”
“You gonna reach out to him?”
“I don’t know.”
***
Frederick Starks proved he was both impatient and persistent. Not that I could fault him for this. But I not only wanted to learn as much about him as possible, I also had no idea how I’d respond to his request or if I even would.
I read for hours each night, once Lauren was asleep. It took twelve nights to read every word. Two days later, I received another overnight envelope—certified—with a letter from Starks requesting an in-person meeting. The last man who’d entered our headquarters building had paid with his life for doing so. Of course, he’d been uninvited.
I wanted to read the material in the folders again before making any decision about his request. This time, I’d go through it more slowly, carefully. I wanted to read between the lines as Lavender had done.
Once again, as soon as Lauren slept soundly, I read and made notes as needed in the margins. By the time I completed this task, it was the end of May. I didn’t hear from him during that time.
That left me both unconcerned and concerned. The last thing I wanted him to do was show up and attempt to barge in to see me.
I reminded myself not to worry about this. If he managed to put a toe onto the grounds, that would be as far as he got.
CHAPTER 102
Early June, the top women threw a surprise party for my scientists and me. They’d waited this long to do so, wanting to make sure there was cause to celebrate. Four babies delivered, four more on the way, plus Agatha’s other success, seemed reason enough for them. We’d all been working so hard, it was time to do something fun.
I smiled and acted as graciously as I could, but couldn’t shake what was bothering me. First was my concern about which of these women might be the mole, who seemed to have gone into a long period of hibernation. The second was how Frederick Starks knew anything about what we were doing, other than the conception matter, that is. There was one other thing, but I preferred not to think about it.
Brenda joined me. “Why so pensive?”
I relaxed my face and gave her a small smile. “Sorry. I have a lot going on. This party, lovely as it is, wasn’t on my schedule.”
“I think it’s more than that.”
I faced her. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “Just that you’re under a lot of pressure to perform and succeed in significant matters. Added to that is the intensive involvement and responsibility of running such a massive organization.”
“I have a great deal of help with all of it.”
“My dear friend, this is me you’re talking to. Something else is on your mind.”
I gave her another small smile. “You’re right. But it’s nothing I can’t—”
“I’m free at three tomorrow. A session will do you good.” She placed her hand on my forearm. “Three o’clock sharp. I’ll expect you then. Now, relax and enjoy your party.”
“You’re right.”
Brenda checked her watch. “Please make my goodbyes, if anyone even notices. I have a session starting in fifteen minutes. I like to prepare for several minutes beforehand. Remember, three o’clock.”
“I’ll be there.”
***
Mug of tea in hand, I rested back on Brenda’s office sofa. “It’s nothing to do with anything or anyone here,” I said. “It’s Abigail. She’s been on my mind. Best friends since middle school, though that friendship has dwindled. I guess I’m noting her absence.”
I glanced at Brenda, who watched me with an especially attentive expression. She said nothing, so I continued. “There are many reasons I feel betrayed by her, including the lack of any contact from her after the announcement about Kane and so forth. I realize I could have reached out to her, but I suppose my disappointment and pride got the better of me. Along the way, I’ve convinced myself that our relationship is worth saving, mostly because of its longevity. Perhaps I’m fooling myself about that. We’ve had no contact, not so much as an exchange of Christmas cards, in a few years. Total silence on both sides.”
“As upsetting as that understandably is, I still feel there’s something else. I’m here for you, Katherine. Let me help you, even if just to listen.”
I exhaled hard and walked to the window that looked out on the grounds and pond. Brenda remained silent. It took several moments to build the confidence to say what I did want to say but hesitated to. I took another deep breath, turned, and leaned against the wall. “It’s only happened infrequently, but enough times to get my attention. My attempts to dismiss it are failing.”
“What’s happened?”
“I’ll be somewhere—the first time was at the Haven—and I’ll hear someone say Abigail’s name. My pulse races and I look around to see if she’s there or at least who might have said her name.”
She nodded. “It’s a common enough name.”
“That’s what I’ve told myself each time. But it really isn’t. It’s a name from another generation and seldom used now.
“A couple of times, I’ve heard it here, as I walked through headquarter halls. And with the same results. Maybe my mind is playing tricks on me because I miss her. Because we used to share so much. Because I loved how she was always ready to celebrate my successes and didn’t begrudge them.”
I returned to the sofa and faced Brenda. “What do you think? Is it a simple matter of wishful thinking influenced by a need for more sleep than I usually get?”
Brenda’s eyes welled and her lips trembled. She took my hands in hers and kept eye contact with me, like someone about to say, “My condolences for your loss.”
Her behavior startled me. I tried to pull away but she gripped my hands tighter. “What is it?” I asked.
&n
bsp; She stared intently into my eyes. “My dear, dear friend.”
“You’re frightening me.”
“That’s the last thing I wish to do. Not to you. But needs must, I’m afraid.”
“What aren’t you saying?”
“My dear, it pains me to tell you …”
My heart thumped against my ribs. “Tell me what?”
“You are Abigail.”
CHAPTER 103
I stared, mouth agape, at Brenda. One tear spilled onto her cheek. I slid my hands from hers and stood. “I think we need to get you to the clinic immediately and let Agatha run diagnostic tests. Have you experienced any symptoms of dizziness, headaches? Any recent, extraordinary confusion?”
“I’m not the one who’s confused.”
“Any recent insect bites? Head injuries?”
“You’ve heard people say the name Abigail, mostly in passing and never to your face, because they were referring to you. Many of them have met her, quite to their surprise, though I dare say they’re used to it by now.”
I reached to test her forehead for fever. She gently pushed my hand away.
“Please sit, Katherine. It’ll be easier to explain if you do.”
I did so. Tentatively.
“It happened during your sixth session.”
“We never had a sixth session.”
Her eyes welled with tears again. “We’ve had a number of them.”
I shook my head. “Brenda, something is very wrong. You need to let us do a thorough examination.”
“Your manner, your facial expressions, even your speech patterns altered. When I asked what you were thinking, and said your name, you told me you were Abigail. The remainder of our session, and subsequent ones, were with Abigail, not Katherine.”
My blood pressure dropped, dizziness filled my head. “Do you realize what you’re saying?”