“But I did.”
“Yes. And that would indicate a talent strong enough to evade both the psi-nullified environment of the SIU and the tests themselves.”
“This is too weird.” In the space of a few days, she’d gone from being a sterile, orphaned nobody to a multi-raced fertile woman with growing psychic talents and maybe even a brother.
“It certainly is a puzzle,” O’Hearn agreed, “but one I think we can eventually solve.”
Sam took another deep breath. No doubt the solving would involve more damn tests. “So what do you want to do?”
“First, I want your permission to request the test results from the SIU. I think they would complement my research. Who’s the physician in charge there?”
“A man named Finley.”
“Finley?” The doc raised a gray eyebrow. “He’s one of the best in his field. I didn’t realize he was working for the SIU now.”
“He’s been wanting to do more tests himself. So far, I’ve refused.”
“Why?”
Sam shrugged. “Obstinacy, perhaps? Or maybe even fear of discovering the truth.”
“Which is understandable. Sometimes it is better not to know.”
Sam smiled grimly. “But there are things happening to me that I need to understand, and I can’t sit on my hands anymore. Do what it takes to find out what the hell is going on in my body.”
“Good girl.” O’Hearn leaned forward and picked up the second folder. “I’ll book some more tests and let you know the times. I’ll also contact Gabriel and request the SIU test results.” Then she hesitated, frowning slightly. “It might also be worthwhile if I work with Finley on some of these tests. He’s more familiar with gene manipulation than I am.”
“The SIU will probably have to approve it, but it’s okay by me. Though Finley’s not due back from leave until the eighteenth.”
“We’ll get around that.” The doctor shuffled the two folders together. “I’ll get onto this straightaway.”
Sam stood. “I’ll wait for your call, then.”
O’Hearn nodded. “Don’t worry, dear. You’ll have your answers within a week or two.”
A minute from now was not soon enough. Still, she’d waited nearly thirty years for some answers. Two weeks more wasn’t going to kill her.
Then a chill ran over her skin. She couldn’t escape the sudden notion that she was wrong.
Very wrong.
SAM SPENT SEVERAL FRUITLESS HOURS apartment hunting, then gave up and went back to SIU headquarters.
The real estate agent had given her a vague idea of what her apartment would fetch, and it was a sizeable sum. She’d be able to buy something close to the city, which would save her having to either buy a car or continue to put up with the overcrowded transport system each day. She only had to travel twenty minutes as it was, but that was more than enough.
She dumped her bag on the floor beside her desk and flopped back in her chair. For tonight, at least, she’d have to find a hotel.
“Computer on.”
Izzy appeared. “You have a call, sweetness. From General Frank Lloyd.”
“Fuck.” Sam rubbed her eyes. The last thing she wanted, either now or anytime in the immediate future, was to speak to the general. She couldn’t shake the image of a crocodile toying with its prey—that prey being her.
“Put him onscreen, Iz.”
The general’s powerful features appeared and a chill ran over her skin. This man would play some part in her future, and none of it would be good.
She rubbed her arms. “What can I do for you, General?”
“The question is more what can I do for you.”
His smile made her skin crawl. “General, it’s been a long day. Just get to the point.”
He raised a bushy eyebrow. “Given your questions regarding the Generation 18 project, I thought you would be interested to know that we’ve discovered the identity of the man who hacked into our system.”
And he’d only just discovered this name? Somehow, she doubted it. “It’s not Michael Sanders, I suppose?”
The general frowned. “No. Orrin Whittiker.”
He seemed to place an odd emphasis on the man’s name. Was she supposed to know the man? “Who is?”
“A reject from a different project.”
“Jesus, General, how many rejects do you have wandering the streets?”
“At last count, one hundred and forty-five. There could be one or two more I don’t know about, though.”
One hundred and forty-five rejected children? How many successes must they have had? And how many deaths? If what Mary said was true, then the latter number, at least, was very high.
“Do you keep track of all your rejects?”
“Oh yes. We can’t afford not to.”
Then Hopeworth had known about the murders. Had known, but had done nothing. “Do you intend to pick up this Orrin Whittiker?”
“If we can find him, yes. But we thought, perhaps, it might be in both our interests if you were also looking for him. If you do get to him before us, we’d appreciate you handing him over once you have finished with him.”
That was not up to her. “Only if you offer the same guarantee, General.”
He smiled. “That I cannot guarantee.”
So why even call her in the first place? Something was very off. Was this some sort of test? If Orrin had breached Hopeworth, he could certainly tell her more about that place than they might wish…unless that was the whole point. But why the hell would he want her uncovering more about Hopeworth, especially if she was one of their rejects? “What project was Orrin rejected from?”
“I cannot tell you that.”
“General, I need to know what to expect when I go after this man.”
The general hesitated, his eyes going curiously blank. There was no doubt that he was telepathic—and right now, he was obviously contacting higher authorities.
“Orrin,” he continued, barely skipping a beat, “possesses an unusual height and girth. He is also extremely strong.”
“What sort of unusual height are we looking at?”
“He’s over eight feet tall, and at least half that wide.”
She blinked. She’d be trying to arrest a man almost double her height? Like that was going to happen. “What the hell were you trying to achieve with Orrin’s lot? Man mountains?”
The general’s almost cynical smile suggested she wasn’t that far off the mark. “We have his last known address, if you’re interested.”
“And would it do me any good? Haven’t you already checked it out yourselves?”
“Not as yet. There is a team on the way, of course, but Hopeworth is farther away than the SIU and you are likely to get there faster. Orrin is best contained; by whom doesn’t matter.”
If he was best contained, then why hadn’t he been earlier than this? The general was playing his own game here; she was sure of that, if nothing else.
“Then give me the address.” It was a shame she’d never be able to charge the general and his military cohorts with obstruction of justice. They’d had this information from the beginning of the murders—of that she had no doubt. Yet they’d sat on it. Had simply watched while people like Gabriel’s sister were brutally murdered.
It was just as well that she wasn’t standing face-to-face with the general. She’d be tempted to punch him.
“Orrin lives in the government housing estate in Melton. Twenty-eight Errol Street, to be precise.”
She frowned. Emma Pierce had lived on that same street. “Thanks for the help, General.”
He nodded and disappeared. Izzy reappeared onscreen. “Need anything, sweetie?”
“Yeah, request me a gun and a car.”
“Feel like shooting someone, do we?” Izzy’s foot tapped several times. “Stun or dual?”
She hesitated. If this man was as big as the general had suggested, she wasn’t going to get caught having only a stun gun to defend herself with. “Dual
, just to be safe.”
“Request being processed.”
“And see if you can get Gabriel Stern for me, will you?” She leaned back in her chair, watching the boa twirl.
“No answer, sweetie.”
She frowned. This wasn’t like Gabriel. Not when he’d said he’d leave the phone on. “Try Director Byrne, then.”
Stephan’s face appeared on screen. “Agent Ryan,” he greeted, voice neutral yet somehow sharp. “What can I do for you?”
“I’ve just been in contact with General Frank Lloyd. He discovered the name of the man who hacked into their system and recovered the information on the Generation 18 rejects.”
“Do you need assistance in picking him up?”
“If what the general said about his size is true, then yes, I will.”
“I’ll assign Briggs and Edmonds immediately.”
“Thanks.” She hesitated briefly. “Sir, have you heard from AD Stern? I’ve been trying to get ahold of him for several hours now.”
“No, I haven’t.” Stephan rubbed his chin. “He was on watch detail at Jeanette Harris’s place, but he went to investigate something else and hasn’t been heard from since.”
And Stephan was worried, though his face, like his voice, showed absolutely no emotion.
“Have you talked to the remaining teams? Do they have any idea where he might have gone?”
“Yes, I did, and no, they haven’t. The two agents at the front of the building reported he climbed out of his car about five minutes after a paperboy had gone past, and that he walked up the street into a house. He was last seen flying away in his hawk form.”
“No location indicator after that?”
“We investigated his last known location, with little result.” He hesitated, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t suppose you’ve felt anything?”
She hesitated. How much should she tell Stephan? In many ways, she didn’t really trust him, simply because her desires and needs were of no consequence to him. The only thing he cared about was the Federation, the SIU and his wife. And in that order. “Not exactly, sir.”
Something in his eyes suggested he didn’t believe her. “If he hasn’t reported in by this evening, I’ll be in contact.”
Her frown deepened. That sounded almost like a threat. “Yes, sir.”
“Oh, and Agent Ryan?”
“Yes?”
“We got Dr. Francis. She’s currently in holding, and will be charged with attempted murder, at the very least.”
“Good.” One crazy bird off the radar, one to go.
Stephan signed off and she leaned over to collect her bag from beside the desk. Time to go collect a man mountain.
—
Awareness returned slowly. At first, Gabriel felt nothing beyond the pounding ache in his head. Gradually, though, he became conscious of something sharp under his side, digging into his ribs. Became aware that his shoulders burned, as if stretched back too long and too hard. He tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but couldn’t, mainly because he was trussed up tighter than a roast for Sunday’s dinner.
He opened his eyes. The room in which he lay was enclosed in darkness. There were no windows, meaning there was no chance of light getting in or him getting out. The air was still, and it tasted almost foul.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he found the door. Heavyset and metal, it looked like something you’d find on a commercial refrigerator. Then he looked around his prison again and saw the rails above him, hung with empty hooks. He was in a meat storage locker. No wonder the air held a mix of death and fouled meat.
He shifted his legs. The object under his ribs dug deep, biting into his flesh, and he swore and jackknifed away. It was glass, not stone or rubble, as he’d presumed. Probably the remnants of some drunk’s cheap wine bottle. Judging by the amount of glass surrounding him, the drunk had spent a fair amount of time here. Obviously, the building in which the meat locker was housed had been abandoned long enough for street people to consider it a refuge.
Unless they were in the same building that he’d followed Dr. Francis into, the chance of immediate rescue was next to zero.
But the glass itself might provide a means to escape, if he could manage to grab a piece. He shifted his shoulders and arms, trying to work some slack into the ropes. After a good ten minutes, he had to rest. Whoever had tied him had done a damn fine job. He could barely breathe, let alone move.
The sharp tattoo of footsteps came from beyond the confines of his prison, and then the metal door screeched open. Brown leather boots appeared. He looked up and found himself staring into Emma Pierce’s face. The sister, he thought. The elusive Rose Pierce.
“Good to see you’re finally awake, Assistant Director.” She stopped a good three feet away and stared at him with an expression that wavered between contempt and caution.
“What are you doing, Rose? None of this will bring Emma back. Especially not killing innocent adoptees.”
Her smile was cold. “Especially when one of them was your sister, huh?”
Anger flashed through him, but it was useless, given the circumstances. He could no more attack her than he could fly right now. “What’s the point of all this? We know who you are. We know who your next victims will be. You’re insane if you think we’re going to let you get anywhere near them.”
She began to pace. Her walk was long and powerful, almost masculine. “You may think you’re clever, AD Stern—and you certainly put two and two together far faster than I might have wished or hoped—but believe me when I say you have no idea exactly what I’m capable of.”
Oh, he had a pretty good idea. The question right now, however, was why was he still alive? What did she intend to do with him? “Taking me hostage will get you no closer to your victims. The SIU doesn’t bargain.”
Her smile was a slash of contempt. “I know that. I have no intention of going down that road, anyway.”
“Then what do you intend?”
“You’ll see soon enough.” She hesitated, studying him almost too intently. “What, no other questions?”
She wanted him to talk, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. He could see no harm in obliging, though, especially if it gave him some answers. “Why are you killing these people? If you hold a grudge, it should be against Hopeworth, not the innocent by-products of their experiments.”
“I have no grudge against the adoptees. I’m only carrying out my sister’s final wish.”
“Emma wanted her children dead?”
Bitterness ran across her face. “These aren’t her children. They were never conceived by her, never grew to life in her womb. They’re an aberration of nature, something that should not exist. So they must die, as Emma wished.”
“How did Emma find out about the adoptees in the first place?” He was pretty confident Hopeworth wouldn’t have told her.
“A chance encounter with a reject from another project gave us the clue, though I reckon Em might have had her suspicions anyway. We formed a pact with the reject. We helped him, and he helped us.”
“Then why cut out the wombs and ovaries in the women, or the penis and testes in the men?”
For a moment, Rose didn’t answer. She paced the floor behind him in long, aggravated strides. “Do you know what it is like to be a twin? To share your twin’s every thought, every desire and every anguish?”
His smile was grim. He should, but he didn’t. Perhaps he would regret it one day, but for now, he was happy to continue blocking Stephan.
“I spent half my life physically locked away from my sister,” Rose continued softly. “It didn’t matter, because even as a child, all I had to do was reach out and she was there, in my mind, ready to comfort or talk.”
So, even as babes, the two had known about each other. “What kept you apart as you got older? Hopeworth?”
Rose came back within sight. Her face darkened. “The bastards sucked her dry, and then they spat out the husk. They didn’t care what
happened to her once they’d finished with her. I was the one who had to pick up the pieces. I was the one who had to see and feel her agony as the cancers their treatments and explorations had left her with ate away her body.” She hesitated and clenched her fists. “I was the one who had to watch her die and feel her relief as death sucked her soul away.”
And the experience had obviously left her more than a little off-center. “Why didn’t you bury her, Rose? Why not offer her the dignity in death that she couldn’t get in life?”
“Because once the soul has gone, the body is only a lifeless shell. It doesn’t matter what happens to it.”
Rose and Emma where born shifters, and yet they obviously had none of the beliefs that were ingrained into most shifter families. Maybe it was because they’d been adopted at such a young age and raised by humans. But even humans buried their dead. Gabriel shifted slightly, trying to ease the ache in his side where the glass had cut. His fingers brushed against something sharp. More glass. If he could grab it, he might just be able to cut the ropes and escape. All he had to do was keep her talking and direct her attention elsewhere.
“It is a belief among my people that if the body is not properly interred, the soul cannot go on and be reborn.”
Rose raised an eyebrow. “And sticking them six feet under is supposed to aid this rebirth?”
He smiled grimly. “Sticking them six feet under is nothing but a waste of good planting soil.”
“Well, at least we agree on something.” She turned away and continued her pacing. “Let’s go back to your earlier question. Why do I cut up these innocents, as you call them, so badly?”
He raised an eyebrow. He’d asked that question a good five minutes ago. Had she just decided to answer, or was she simply trying to keep him talking?
“You told me Emma wanted them dead,” he said. “But you wanted them to suffer. To suffer as much as your sister had suffered.”
She stopped and regarded him in surprise. “Very good, Assistant Director. And yes, I wanted them to know what Emma had suffered to give them life. I wanted them to die suffering, just like her. But that is not the reason for doing what I did.”