Pavel also visited. Overton had found him a private room in another wing of the hospital, but he insisted on standing guard outside Anastasia’s room. The other FBI agents hadn’t objected—much. Anyone with his capabilities was a definite bonus when it came to security. “I no stay long,” he said when Anastasia called him inside. “I frighten baby. I know what I look like.”
“It’s all right,” Anastasia insisted. As if to prove her trust, she placed her daughter in his arms, speaking to him in Russian, and instructing him on how to hold little Sara Emily. A pleased smile broke out on his face. Harry observed the gentle nature he exhibited when he cuddled the baby, murmuring soft words and even singing a lilting song in his native language.
The baby slept through it all, and only woke up and cried when Jason and Maze came in, loaded with presents, mainly chocolate and stuffed toys. Sara Emily seemed to like Maze well enough. She curled her tiny chubby fist around Maze’s hair and pulled which elicited a yell from the older girl. The yells made Sara Emily gurgle with pleasure.
However, when Jason tried to hold her, she immediately screamed and reached for her mother. “I think she prefers a woman’s touch,” Maze said as she took the baby from Jason and cuddled her, before passing her over to Anastasia.
Chased outside by the baby’s cries, Jason stood against the wall, a glum expression on his face. “Man, I suck at this,” he said when Harry joined him in order to offer a few comforting words.
“You’ll get used to it when it’s your turn.” Harry listened to the sounds of his wife and Maze cooing over the baby, and then asked the inevitable. “Have you found anything?”
Jason gave an emphatic headshake. “No. Maze, the Intel guys, and everyone else, we’ve all been looking, but no signs, no power emanations... nothing. Either he’s shielding his work or...” he threw up his hands in frustration, “I don’t know.”
He then posed another question, one more pertinent. “Your daughter’s a cutie, but is she, you know, all human?”
The remark hadn’t been meant it as an insult. Harry knew him too well, as they’d been friends since junior high, and therefore didn’t take it as such. He’d been wondering the same thing himself. Growth spurts like this simply didn’t happen, mainly because something like this had never happened before—that he knew of. He didn’t know about the other transgenics in Europe. Anything, though, was possible.
Curious, he asked Blanchard to take a sample of his daughter’s blood. Bringing it back to the FBI lab where they had a DNA differentiator, they found the room empty. With privacy on his side, he ran the test, waited... and wasn’t surprised at all by the result. In a way, he was relieved.
She was half-feline and half-human—that’s what the test showed. It also showed feline cells were present, and that the growth spurt came from the feline DNA. It was similar to any animal’s growth. All of it was nature’s way of preparing the animal for survival, an early maturity. He wondered if Sara Emily would have a shortened lifespan, but the readout of her telomeres indicated the high end of normal.
Relieved, he checked the email on his own computer. One message out of the usual spam waited for him.
Dear Mr. Goldman,
InterTech is an up-and-coming company that specializes in genetic research. Currently, we are looking for someone to aid us in our genome mapping and chronic illness treatment program. Your name was at the top of the list...
It seemed too good to be true. He told his wife about it when they had a moment of privacy—the baby was sleeping, and thank goodness for regularity—and Anastasia seemed very positive and asked, “Being a researcher, husband, isn’t that what you wanted to do?”
“Like my father,” he replied, remembering the days when his father and mother had worked for a transgenics lab in Portland. However, Harry’s research had taken him in a different direction. “I’ll run it by Overton and he’ll check with the State Department. They said no before, remember?”
The power brokers and deal makers in Washington had said no mainly because they were afraid a genius like Harry would let the genetic genie out of the bag. Thing was, said genie had already escaped. Allenby had perverted the tech to the nth degree, and there was no telling what other European scientists were up to. Still, he called Overton, who gave him the go-ahead. “Until my superiors say no, get that job,” was his reply.
Writing to InterTech, he said he would love to talk to them about a position as a researcher. Their reply came back almost immediately. Shall we schedule a meeting for tomorrow at noon?
I’ll be there, Harry wrote back. Thank you.
It was a start. He informed his wife, who was now nursing the baby. She nodded and pointed to the door. “Go get ’em, husband.”
The next day at noon, Overton drove him over to the company, located in downtown Manhattan. Sandwiched between a brokerage house and a bank, InterTech was a small, three-story affair in a very nondescript building. “This is the place,” the agent said as he parked the car. “You want me to wait?”
“I’m worried about Anastasia,” Harry said and loosened his collar. He’d struggled into the suit only thirty minutes prior to Overton picking him up, and found that the long sleeves and dress shoes felt too cumbersome. The casual look of jeans and a t-shirt suited him best...
“She’ll be fine,” Overton said, cutting into his thoughts. “We’ve got the best men guarding her, and Pavel is there as well. You saw how he fought before. He won’t let anyone hurt your wife or the baby.”
If those words were meant to calm him down, they didn’t... but if there ever was a time to trust someone, it was right then. “Yeah, please wait for me,” Harry said as he exited the car.
Inside the building, as he approached the front desk, a forty-ish receptionist with frizzy red hair and too much makeup sat drinking coffee. Her eyes grew round and she paused in mid-sip. “You’re Mr. Goldman?”
“Yes.”
Recovering nicely, she put the cup down and donned a professional smile. Pressing a button on her intercom, she said, “Your appointment is here.” Hanging up, she arose and motioned to the second floor. “This way, please.”
Following her upstairs, Harry noticed the barebones setup, the lack of adornments, and the general age of the place. However, he wasn’t concerned as to what it looked like. He was concerned with what it could offer.
The secretary showed him into a room where he found a short, very rotund man sitting at the head of a large wooden table. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, with a smooth, unlined face. A head of tousled brown hair completed the picture. In a moment of the absurd, Harry thought he resembled Tweedledum, minus the ridiculous clothing worn by that fictional character.
In its place, he wore a nondescript all-purpose black suit, along with a creased white shirt and green tie. A smile broke across his face and he arose and waddled over. “Mr. Goldman, my name is Pernell Yalich. I’m the owner of InterTech, and I’d like to welcome you here today.”
It felt odd to him being addressed as mister. Harry was only nineteen. When he heard the word mister he thought of his father. Still, he was now a father, and if he was going to be one, then he’d go with the more formal way of doing and saying things.
After shaking hands, Harry sat and listened to the man tout the virtues of his company. While listening, he tried to sort out any false notes. It came as a revelation to hear none. Perhaps the interview was on the level after all. Yalich showed him around the complex. It was filled with the latest in medical equipment, all of it impressive. The tour took all of ten minutes.
At the end, Harry felt somewhat mystified. On the level or not, Yalich hadn’t said anything about hours or duties. He’d merely asked him a few questions related to transgenic research and said he was also a bio-chemist. “But I’m not anywhere in your class,” he added in a very humble tone.
The guy was being modest. Anyone who worked in transgenics had to be an expert or close to it in a number of disciplines. Chemistry, biology of various animals and famil
iarity with their unique physiologies... the list went on. He wondered where the man had studied and then decided not to ask. He could always check later on. “Uh, when will the interview start?” asked Harry.
“This was it,” Yalich shrugged. “To be honest, when we wrote to you, your name was at the top of our list. In fact, yours was the only name. I know what you’re capable of. I also know what you’ve done in the past. I am not out to break the law in any way, and I know you aren’t, either. Our job here is simply to map out the various genes that lead to disease and devise, in conjunction with pharmaceutical companies, the proper medication for each disease.”
Originally, that had been Harry’s intention. “I’d like to work on that, sir.” It was a nice, neutral answer, one that conveyed hope for a positive outcome.
“Our opening starts next month,” Yalich answered, visibly brightening and rubbing his hands together. “Starting salary is...”
And so it went, with Harry walking out of the company shortly thereafter. Elated by the offer, he felt like he was walking on air. Outside, a few people stared at him. With his slicked back gray fur dotted with gray spots and a pair of yellow eyes, he knew he made a startling sight. They stared... and Harry decided to ignore said looks.
It seemed too good to be true. Yalich had offered a most attractive starting package, flexible hours, and best of all, he’d said, “You can wear whatever you want and bring your wife and daughter with you, if you want. You’re the top man in your field as far as I’m concerned, and we want to learn from you.”
It seemed very straight up, but Overton’s first words once he got back in the car brought him back to Earth. “I can tell from the pleased look on your face things went well.”
“It shows?”
“Uh-huh,” nodded Overton, and then his mood turned serious. “Just so you know, we vetted the company. They’re legit, but we’ve got other business. Ulbricht is coming here to meet us at FBI headquarters, so get your game face on.”
“When is this big meeting?”
A look of tension filled Overton’s face. “It’s tomorrow at noon.”
“Do I have to worry about anything?”
Not a particularly smart question to ask, considering what had happened a week earlier. Overton’s face turned purple, portending a hemorrhage or something equally as dire. Sputtering out his reply, he whacked the dashboard with his palm. “You slugged the guy! Not that he didn’t deserve it—he did—but you can’t go around punching out politicians. So be nice this time.”
He went on to stress diplomacy and tact, and talked about following the game plan. All of this smacked of by-the-book operations, but for the moment, Harry was content to follow said plan. He had two very important people to think about and vowed at least to listen to Ulbricht’s plans.
“Fine, we’ll settle it like gentlemen,” said Harry, not thinking of the politician but of his wife and daughter.
That night at the hospital, Harry sat in a chair next to his wife’s bed. Their daughter was doing what she did best. She was sleeping, a smile on her angelic face. “It’s gas,” Anastasia whispered.
He thought her only half-serious. As he told her about the upcoming meeting with Ulbricht, her expression grew doubtful. “Harry, that man is dangerous. From what you told me before and what I’ve read on the Internet, he doesn’t want us to have rights. He wants to rub us right out. There’s a difference, you know.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” Her voice, quiet but insistent, drove her points home all the more. “I’ve always wanted to be accepted for what I am. I still do. You and me, that’s enough, but our child... she’ll need us. If that man,” she practically spat out the word, but quietly, “has his way, our daughter will be visiting us behind bars.”
“It won’t go there. I won’t let it.”
“You may not have a choice.”
The next day at noon, Harry, Pavel and Overton waited in the lobby of the FBI building. Everyone else had been told to stay away, with the exception of security.
Most everyone gave Pavel a wide berth. He did nothing threatening, save shaking his head. “I no unnerstan’ Americans so well,” he said.
“You’re not supposed to,” Overton answered. “If it makes you feel any better, we still have the same insecurities.”
Pavel uttered a harsh laugh. “It still no make me feel better.”
The door opened and Ulbricht walked in, flanked by two security personnel. As he swept his blond hair back and surveyed the room with a practiced eye, Harry wondered about the dye job and thought it was an affected look for a middle-aged man. A second later, though, he wondered if it was something other than a fifty-ish man’s quest for youth.
Ulbricht got down to business right away. As before, he refused to shake hands with anyone, simply gave Overton a curt nod and asked him while pointing to Pavel, “What is that?”
“He’s a Russian visitor.”
Immediately, Harry thought something was wrong. The two men had already met, albeit briefly, only a couple of days ago. Had Ulbricht forgotten so quickly?
The senator then smacked his forehead and nodded, audibly gulping. “I’m sorry. Yes, we’ve already met.”
His mouth began to quiver as if he was searching for the proper words. “I don’t imagine he wants political asylum here. If he does—”
“I do not,” Pavel interrupted. “I am Russian citizen. I come here to warn people of what my government do, help Harry and his wife. That is all. Once we get Allenby, I go home.”
“Goody for you,” Ulbricht replied with a sudden smile.
Goody for you? Seemingly forgetting names and now smiling? Now something wacked out was happening. Harry took a tentative sniff of the air, and found no scent of wet dog. All the same, though, he waited to see what was going to happen next.
In order to test the waters, he asked, “Are you okay, Senator Ulbricht? You look pale.”
In fact, Ulbricht’s facial color had changed. When he’d come in, his complexion resembled tofu that had been left in the sun for too long. Now, his face had turned a deep red and he was sweating profusely, the water running down his cheeks like a mini-river. “I’m feeling fine, Harry,” he replied.
He called me by my first name?
Something had to be wrong. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Overton had his hand on his gun belt. Ulbricht didn’t seem to notice, as he turned on Pavel with, “Well, Mr. Russia, allow me to be honest. While the American government appreciates the fact you would like to help out, we do not need your help. I would suggest you return to your country as soon as possible before I have you arrested. In fact, I think you should be arrested now.”
Pavel blinked. “Arrest me... why you do that?”
The senator took a step forward. “I think you’re a spy. Not only do you look repulsive, you exist, and that’s enough to...”
His voice trailed away and he doubled over, hands to the side of his head. With a shock that wasn’t really one, Harry got up and watched as the bodyguards did the same and oh... not good, definitely not good! “Everyone, get back,” he cried. “They’re Allenby’s men!”
It seemed impossible, but horns sprouted from all three visitors, long, curved horns with sharp tips. Their bodies seemed to swell in size and burst through their clothes, revealing muscular, hairy torsos and arms. Clones, Allenby’s invented shape-shifting clones!
A few FBI personnel stared and Harry waved them out of the way. “Move, damn it, move!”
Pavel immediately leaped into action. He grabbed one of the false agents around its neck before it completely transformed and twisted its head sharply. A loud crack resulted, and the creature, mostly transformed into a goat-human combo, sagged to the ground.
Overton had his pistol out. It bucked in his hand as he fired three times, hitting the second faux security guard in the chest. The imposter dropped to the floor, a pool of blood forming under its body.
The pseudo-Ulbricht, though, to
re out the door, smashing personnel out of his way as he made good his escape. “I’ve got him,” Harry yelled. “Don’t wait for me!”
Outside, pedestrians scattered like quail as Harry pursued his quarry down the block and into an alleyway. There, Ulbricht turned around, his back to the fence. “You and your kind are history,” he said. “We are the first of the next generation. Our master commands it.”
“Why don’t you tell me where your master is?”
The creature laughed and extended its arms. Long and wicked looking barbs of bone burst from his forearms and hands and shredded what was left of his suit. “Make me tell you.”
Angry at having been suckered in, Harry extended his own claws. “I can do that.”
They clashed, with the clone making the first move and slashing wildly. Its barbs cut through Harry’s shirt and scored a deep groove in his chest. He backed off, feeling fire flash through him. A grin came from his opponent. “You’re not so tough.”
Overconfident perhaps, he jumped forward, and Harry opened his throat with a swipe of his own. The imposter fell to the ground, his throat torn open.
“Guess I’m not.” As he knelt by the dying creature, Harry tried to feel pity for it, and couldn’t. “Tell me where Allenby is. You’re not going to make it, so you’d better tell me.”
“I...”
A horrible rattling sound came from its throat. Its body then spasmed and its eyes closed.
Dispirited, Harry trudged back to home base and found Overton waiting for him. “Any luck?” he asked.
Harry shook his head. His wounds had already started to heal, but the pain was almost as bad as the initial injury. “He died before he could tell me.”
“Come inside,” Overton urged. “I’ve got a video of Allenby.”
The lobby was empty save Pavel. A laptop sat on a table, its top open, and a video was playing. Allenby stood flanked by a few of his minions. “If you are watching this, Goldman, then you know that I am almost ready.”
Reunion Page 8
