by M. C. Miller
“Bad people with good reasons. Doesn’t sound right to me.”
“You don’t think there’s ever a valid reason to keep a secret?”
“Oh sure, just like there are good reasons for dual-use projects.”
“It’s not just about panicking the public – it’s about panicking the powerful.”
“Amazing how you know so much when you’ve been told so little.”
“I’ve been told enough! What do you think is going to happen now?”
“If we’re lucky, the end of 3rd Protocol. If the government isn’t involved, then I guess they have nothing to worry about.”
Just then, an agent from the front seat turned around and handed Faye a phone. She took it with hesitation then listened with interest and sudden concern.
“My God...” She began to tear up. “Are we going there now?”
Faye’s emotion riveted Janis to her half of the conversation.
“…should I wait? I don’t know. Are you sure? All right.” She handed the phone back to the agent then turned to Janis. “That was my boss. There’s another reason why they came for us so quickly.”
“It’s not about what I posted?”
Faye shook her head, tears running down her face. “Something’s happened at The Nest…”
Janis was on edge. “Isn’t that the place you said they had Alyssa?”
“They’re taking us there now.”
“What’s wrong?”
Faye couldn’t bring herself to repeat what she had heard.
She managed to say one thing. “…it’s Alyssa.”
Chapter 32
Frioul Archipelago
A mile off the coast of Marseille
Private boats dotted the harbor between the islands of Pomègues of Ratonneau. André Bolard moored the 26-foot cruiser and took a walk along the strand. His pace was casual and yet he aimed with steady determination for the blue umbrellas of a particular café. A man waiting there bought André a drink without a word spoken between them. Sitting among tourists, they relaxed and joined in, discussing nothing of importance.
Afterwards, the two of them strolled in the direction of the boat. Along the way, André stopped for a newlywed couple wanting their picture taken. Hugging and smiling, the pair asked if Château d'If could be included in the background.
André obliged then waved goodbye. He turned as the other man caught his eye. With nothing to say, André grinned. Patronizing clueless tourists cost nothing; if anything, it only demonstrated publically what a good guy he was.
Back on the boat, André and the man retreated to the shade and privacy of the inner cabin. André opened beers as the man tuned a radio to a music station and turned up the volume. They sat close.
“Did you see anyone?”
The man settled back, suddenly alert. “I never do.”
André got comfortable. “It’s just as well. Let them believe they’re clever.”
“I don’t like it. After Rue Saint-Ferréol, I can do nothing.”
“Don’t worry; having you do nothing is working out just fine.”
“Meanwhile, I’m on some fucking watch list.”
“They let you go; that’s all that matters.” André shrugged; his humor was deadpan. “How were you supposed to know that crazy bitch didn’t want a boat?”
“Meeting with her wasn’t worth the risk.”
Opening a laptop, André scanned a blog posting. “We can say that now.”
The man gazed at the posting without reading. “You trust what she posted?”
“It’s worth considering.”
“As what? More smoke to hide the fire? Everyone is looking at it and seeing different things. There’s no end to it.”
“That’s why there must be something to it. That much I’m certain of. Someone is going to an awful lot of trouble to confuse the issue, don’t you think?”
“They can’t confuse the facts.”
“Facts? Let’s not confuse the truth with the facts. No, this is something else. It’s so…clumsy and mysterious all at once. Here we have twenty-year-old studies from think tanks offered alongside classified spreadsheets from Puerto Rico.”
“If any of this crap really came out of GeLixCo, it raises all kinds of questions. Some are calling it a smear campaign against NovoSenectus.”
“Strange, because the web post says the two of them worked together on a project for the U.S. government. Of course, the Americans are denying it. Their Senate says all of this is nothing but a vicious love triangle gone wrong.”
The man sneered and laughed. “How did they ever get that idea? They should make a TV show out of it.”
“If they did that, the Americans would believe it even more.”
“There’s too much to sort out. We’re scattering our energies.”
“No,” snapped André. “We stay with the memo. That’s where we have to focus. If the memo’s real, then Mass intends on triggering something.”
“How do we know this thing she calls 3rd Protocol isn’t another diversion?”
“Of course it’s a diversion! This is about GenLET. It’s always been about life extension. The circus we’re watching only proves whatever’s being planned is much bigger than Mass. They were researching how to scan people’s DNA with radiation – what the fuck is that about? This stuff about a UDIF/TZ Project is no joke.”
“But New World Harmony is his idea.”
“He can name it, but it’s only his name for what other nameless powers have in mind. I’ve done some research too. A leaked report out of Washington claims GenLET was a secret U.S. project all along. NovoSenectus was contracted as part of the development cycle – that’s all.”
“What about the Nobel Prize?”
“They don’t give a shit about trinkets.”
“If that’s right, we’re seeing only a fraction of what we’re up against.”
“Even more reason to get serious about putting a boot into the gears.”
“What should we do?”
André squinted in thought. “For now, we watch how Mass reacts.”
“This morning he named a replacement for Riya Basu.”
“To be expected. Janis is not his favorite person right now. Who is it?”
“Carlos somebody from Madrid; never heard of him.”
“Do we know where he is now?”
“Vacationing in the Azores.”
“Boating?”
The man nodded. “He just left Island Flora, headed for Pico.”
“Good.” André threw back a swig of brew. “Luckily, we know a thing or two about yachts. So what have we found out about the guy in the memo – Javier?”
“There’s only one person named Javier connected to Mass. Open your email.”
André switched over and opened the attachment. A front-page picture from a past issue of Voici Magazine opened up. In one corner was a grainy photo of two men on a sidewalk. The caption read, “Gay Lover Follows Eugene Mass to Paris.”
“Javier Francisco – most certainly not his real name.”
André groused, “You’ve got to be shitting me.”
“They have a hideaway in Brussels. From what all the stories say, they don’t need to be terribly discrete; apparently, Leah Mass doesn’t care.”
André stared at the grainy photo with suspicion. “I see product placement.”
“What do you mean?”
“Either we believe this or we believe the memo.”
“Most people already believe this.”
“Then that’s the way Mass must want it. Even more reason to stick with the memo.”
“But if Javier’s not the gay lover, who is he?”
“Couldn’t he be the lover and something else?”
“He’s been hiding in plain sight way too long.”
“Unless we hear something else, we assume he’s dirty. From the way Mass talked to him in the memo, he must be a fixer.”
“I don’t know…” The man finished his beer. �
��I don’t like it.”
“What’s wrong?”
“How do we know we’re not following crumbs they’re leaving for us?”
“We don’t.” André was steely-eyed in his stare. “That’s why we’re going to start making some of them disappear.”
“If we start that they’ll come after us.”
“They’re coming after us anyway. We don’t fit the new order of things.”
The man stood. “What do you need me to do?”
André stepped closer. “Go to Stockholm and Brussels, then someplace unexpected…let’s say Miami. Have a good time but go down a few side streets. Do your best not to act suspicious; that’ll get them going.”
The man stood in protest. “That’s it? I play the wild goose again and let them chase me? Nothing more?”
“If you want, we can let the fuckers grind you up as foie gras. You want to give them something solid so they can shut us down? Would that make you happy?”
The man said nothing.
André grabbed him by the shoulder. “We all have something to do that sucks. Only yours gets to be a vacation. Quit complaining.”
The man started to go.
André called out, “And keep up the research. Remember – unchartered waters dead ahead.”
The man mumbled, “Got it,” then left the boat.
André grabbed another beer, turned off the radio, and followed him up on deck. After downing half of the bottle, he pressed cell phone to ear. Staring at the peak of Notre-Dame de la Garde basilica in the distance, he waited for the ringing to stop. When it did, it went to voicemail.
“This is André. Call me when you get this. We have emergency maintenance to do. We’ll need a specialist, someone who knows their way around a stuffing box.”
André lowered the phone. The line went dead.
On a yacht, a stuffing box was used at the point were the propeller exited the boat’s hull underwater. It prevented water from entering the hull while still allowing the propeller shaft to turn.
But his call wasn’t about one of those.
André looked out to sea. He had hoped it wouldn’t come to this.
But now that it had, he was going to go at it full throttle.
Chapter 33
GeLixCo Advanced Research Center
Aguadilla, Puerto Rico
All of it could have been a terrible misunderstanding. But then the private jet touched down with a shudder of rapid braking. For Janis, the past few weeks felt like a dream. Now the dream was having a nightmare.
The certainty of arrival rendered her numb.
Trying not to expect the worst only brought it to mind. She knew so little after so many hours. She was certain of nothing more than the one word Faye had managed to say. Alyssa. How telling when a single word could say so much.
Her tortured imagination ran wild.
As they hurried from jet to car, the tropical sun blasted away overhead. Dense, humid air enveloped her. A mother’s heart had been ripped from ice and plunged in fire. The ride from Rafael Hernandez Airport down the coast was a blur. She was out of breath, powerless in the face of what should never be.
Faye was at her side but silent, respectful of her need to stay solid within herself and maintain. Being tense and overwhelmed left them both excited but exhausted. The agents escorting them were dutiful if not dispassionate. The lush scenery around them didn’t matter. Neither of them had been on this road before.
Neither of them could get past the feeling that things were out of control.
On the northwest coast of the island, the GARC complex sprouted in the hills above the beach resort of Aguadilla. The winding road narrowed and views of the ocean became panoramic. After a brief stop at a gated guard station, their car was allowed passage behind the high walls of bricks and vegetation that hid the research center from street-level view.
Janis looked up to see three buildings farther up the hill. In the center was the larger, obvious main building. The smaller structure on the right was connected by a fifth-story sky bridge. But it was the smallest and newly renovated building, the one on the left that attracted Janis’ attention. She had no reason to be so sure, but as soon as she laid eyes on it, she knew that’s where they had Alyssa.
The car pulled up to the smaller building’s side entrance. GeLixCo guards took over guiding them down a hallway and into an elevator. At the top floor, they were led to an office where a middle-aged woman stood looking out a window with her back to them. On the sound of their approach, the woman turned around.
“Welcome.” Her smile was slight but genuine. “Please have a seat.”
As Janis and Faye sat down, the woman sat nearer to Janis and mirrored her posture. She extended her hand. “And you are…”
“Janis Insworth.”
The introduction passed on. “Faye Gardner.”
“My name is Rebecca Yeats. I’m a scientist, but also a doctor. I was called in very recently. For the last couple of days, I’ve been caring for Alyssa.”
Janis held back a thousand questions. She’d trust that the doctor would say what was necessary while respecting how fragile she was.
“First of all, let me assure you, Alyssa is stable and in no immediate danger. She’s breathing on her own and shows no signs of distress.”
Knowing that Janis might be unable to speak, Faye spoke for her.
“What exactly is wrong?”
Rebecca hesitated, not so much gathering thoughts as shifting through them for the right thing to say. “From what I hear, Alyssa has complained recently about certain symptoms: indigestion, diarrhea, bloating, some abdominal pain.”
“I was told on the phone this came on suddenly.”
Faye’s statement was a question. The doctor would not be rushed.
“The last episode was sudden, yes. Before that there were chills and fever, nausea, all the signs of a flu or stomach infection.”
“What exactly happened during this…last episode?”
Rebecca glanced at Janis but answered Faye.
“We’re not quite sure. No one else was in the room. A care worker found Alyssa unconscious.” She paused, dismayed at having to proceed. “She’s been that way ever since.”
The news struck Faye and Janis equally but the shock of it jolted Janis to speak.
“She’s in a coma?”
Rebecca dropped her gaze, gave a nod, and eased back, at a loss for words.
Faye asked, “What’s the diagnosis?”
“The blood work came back this morning. We found elevated levels of Urofollitropin, a purified form of FSH, follicle stimulating hormone. It’s normally found in the brain, created by the pituitary gland.”
“I know what it is,” snapped Janis. “It works on the ovaries to stimulate ovulation.”
Faye jumped in. “What’s been going on down here?”
Grief became rage. Janis raised her voice. “Egg harvesting; that’s what it sounds like.”
Rebecca raised a hand to plead for calm and restraint. “I know nothing about that. I was told no such thing was ever authorized.”
“And yet it happened – in a secured lab, under the care of top scientists?”
Janis’ comment begged for explanation. Rebecca had none. “I don’t know how it happened. I just got here. My priority is helping Alyssa now. There’ll be time to find those responsible later.”
Janis demanded, “What exactly is her condition?”
Rebecca opened a file folder to avoid Janis’ withering stare. “The diagnosis is coma induced by a reaction to OHSS, ovarian hyper-stimulation syndrome. This is not my specialty but I’ve become quite an expert in the last 24 hours. I’m also in touch with top reproductive endocrinologists. From everything I’ve seen, I don’t believe this was going on for long. That fact alone is cause for hope.”
Janis broke down and sobbed. Faye put her arm around her.
“Can we see her?” asked Faye.
Rebecca stood. “Of course, whenever you wan
t – for as long as you want.”
Faye helped Janis down the hallway. They passed through secured doors into a separate wing, more hospital than office building. Rebecca led them to a corner room facing west. Heavy drapes shielded them from the afternoon sun. Rebecca stopped in the hallway. Faye paused in the doorway.
Janis took small steps inside. Stunned by finally seeing her daughter once again, she took in every detail without shedding a tear.
Alyssa looked asleep. But the peacefulness on her face was belied by the vital-sign monitors clustered around the head of the hospital bed. Janis was taken by the starkness of the room. It was such a contrast to the sweetness of her girl.
Janis approached the side of the bed. A dizzying wave of impressions swirled around one emotional focus. After everything of the past few weeks, they were together again. But after all of her hopes, why did it have to be this way?
Janis searched for strength. She knew neither of their journeys was over. The hardest part might be yet to come. The power of intention must have its own, greater purpose coming to bear, something that aligned with things unseen but necessary nonetheless.
She took Alyssa’s hand in hers and instantly knew something bigger than the both of them would come of this. It had too. The suffering of angels such as Alyssa couldn’t be meaningless. Someway, somehow, Janis would make sure of it.
Faye drew near. Janis sensed her presence and a surge of anger returned.
“Take a good look at your project. And don’t tell me you knew nothing about this.”
“It’s the only thing I can say…” whispered Faye.
“It doesn’t matter. You agreed to what was going on behind the curtain. You didn’t need to know what it was. But then, that’s always been the difference between you and me. You believe what they tell you, no matter what else they’re using us for.”
Faye forced calm on her reaction. “I can’t argue with you when you’re right.”
Janis looked over and saw conciliatory softness in Faye’s eyes. “I guess next you’re going to tell me – that’s why we always argue.”
The fact that Janis could manage even sarcastic humor and meet her halfway was more than Faye ever expected. She took hold of Janis’ hand and squeezed. They stood side-by-side with their gazes trained on Alyssa.
