She nodded. “Not your average person, that’s for sure.”
The divide between the races was ever growing, so it was certainly an angle to investigate. The question was, who would be his top suspects? He needed to research any and all threats against B-Gastion more deeply when he got back to his computer.
Several minutes passed before she looked him in the eye. “What about the media? They’re going to have a field day with this.”
“I’ll deal with them while you work on the cure.” He folded his arms over his chest. “So, how long does it take to play God?”
She stiffened and then rose from her seat, turning away from him.
He grabbed hold of her wrist. “Sorry, that came out wrong. I meant, what’s the length of time it takes to formulate these cures? A week? A month? A generation?”
She twisted her arm free. Her voice was drenched with concern as she said, “It usually takes about a day to develop a genetic blueprint, but I’ve never had to deal with viruses. It could be sooner, or it could take much longer.”
“Well, until you succeed, we need to figure out where the hell this came from and contain it.”
Determination gleamed in her pale, exhausted eyes. She pulled her back straighter. “And pray the virus hasn’t already been transmitted to other children. Because if it has, we’re already too late.”
* * *
Too late. Too late. Too late.
He’d had that earworm before. Kindra stared at him with an odd expression, as though she were looking through him without actually seeing as they left the lounge.
She gave several rapid blinks. “Have you ever tried spiritual unity?”
“What? No.”
She straightened. “You should.”
He shot her a you’re-out-of-your-mind look. “It’s not for me.”
With a sudden burst of energy, she dashed by him, catching his hand and tugging him along with her. “Come. I’ll show you.”
He easily resisted and kept his feet rooted in place. “Are you crazy? I need to go home. Go to bed. Pound out new clues on the case. A dozen other things.”
“Is your family expecting you?”
He snorted. “No. But you have a daughter. Who’s watching her? Your husband?”
“I have a nanny robot.”
“Oh.” He couldn’t imagine a robot taking care of his child on a regular basis. He knew the people who could afford it did. People like Fredrick B-Gastion. But in his case, it was more to aid his wife than to turn the duty over to a machine.
She stood. “You need to educate yourself about everything to do with this case. This is the best way to free your mind and allow clearer thoughts to come through. It’s something that could help us both—you with your police work, me with a vaccine.”
He glared at her, silent.
“What I have to show you can be accomplished in a few minutes.”
“No.” He crossed his arms over his chest. What she said made sense, but he always resisted doing the things GEI did. Part of him didn’t want to learn their ways, another part resented the differences, and even though he knew it would make him a better person, he simply couldn’t soften his heart.
“A few minutes, York. Can you spare that much? In memory of Isabelle?”
Aw, shit… She had to use the kid against him. When she yanked his hand again, he relented and allowed himself to be towed along.
“Trust me. It’ll be worth it. I assure you,” she said.
York was more than tired as she dragged him down a long corridor to a circular doorway that spun open as they approached. Why couldn’t she let him be? He wanted to retreat, focus on the work at hand, and backtrack before she pinned him with her inviting smile and fed him her religion. There was no unity for Coders, no connection and peace. It was that simple. The lifestyles and beliefs didn’t mix.
The door eased shut as soon as they passed through it. The empty unity room should have echoed, but it didn’t. He turned around completely, noting the circular walls, seamless except for the entrance, and even that blended in. It was a glass bubble, he realized. He looked up to find a view of the night sky outside.
“Sit,” she ordered, assuming a cross-legged position on the lightly padded floor.
“You are crazy. This isn’t going to work. I’m not like you. I don’t believe in another place.”
She stopped short. The horrified look in her eyes forced him to sit facing her.
“All right,” he said on a sigh. “Ten minutes. I’ll humor you for ten minutes.”
This time her blue eyes sparkled. “I’ll take it.”
“Don’t turn me into a damned project.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She almost smiled as she wiggled to find a comfortable position.
The response of his body to her little movement and the tight fit of her shirt over perfectly round breasts gave him more reason to stay put.
“Nine, the ocean, please.” Immediately, the swooshing sound of waves gently lapping an invisible shore washed over them. She rolled her shoulders up and then back in a circular motion. The lighting dimmed. “Relax,” she crooned.
“After a day like today?”
“York…” She said his name slowly. “I don’t think I know anyone else with that name.”
“It’s a Coder name. I was named after New York. Supposedly, I have a famous ancestor from there.” He mimicked her actions and rolled his shoulders. “But I guess you wouldn’t know anything about ancestors.”
“That’s a misconception about genetic engineering.”
“Not what I’ve heard.” He stretched out the tense muscles in his neck.
“The lineage of the core embryos used in each Generation can be traced back to their parents. Modifications are done from the core embryo. HERO maintains very detailed genetic logs.”
“Huh,” he grunted. “Learn something new every day.” He leaned forward. “Now, enough with the chitchat.”
She nodded, then exhaled a long breath. “First, begin with meditation. Like yoga. You know that, don’t you?”
“Affirmative.” Somewhat.
“Take deep, even breaths. Slowly in… Slowly out…”
He duplicated her every move. She shut her eyes, and he closed his, too, although he fully intended to peek.
“Allow your body to relax completely. Sink more deeply into that relaxation on every exhale.”
He liked the clear sound of her voice, absent of harshness and judgment. His senses awakened gradually, aware of the sweet scent of flowers—the smell of Kindra, no doubt. Bit by bit, his hurried pulse and muddled nerves began to still, like water smoothing when the rippling action of a tossed pebble circled out and dissipated.
“When you experience the calm, embrace the energy all around you.” Her voice was a feathery whisper. “Every atom and molecule holds energy. The light holds energy. Let it bathe you. The air holds energy. Let it lift you up.”
Was she humming?
“Think of floating. You are light. Feel the peace. The joy. The universe is one continuous stream of energy.”
York tried to do what she asked. His thoughts bounced around. He breathed deeply, noticing Kindra’s flowery scent, very different from his own. So much had happened in such a short span of time. The craziness of dealing with his mother caused his neck muscles to tense, the despair of Isabelle’s death twisted his gut, the excitement of breaking the rules at the morgue with Kindra as his reluctant, but fully engaged co-conspirator made his pulse escalate.
“You’re supposed to be relaxing,” Kindra reminded him.
Could she feel his tension, read his thoughts, he wondered. He focused on thinking about nothing in particular.
Amazingly, calm began to thread through him. As if in a fog, he noticed she wasn’t speaking any longer. He blinked his eyes open. She was there, seeming quite pleased with herself, although he couldn’t imagine why. He’d told her it wouldn’t work. But he did feel more…rested somehow.
“Look arou
nd. You’re floating.”
And so he was.
“Great antigravity machine, Nine,” he said.
“It was not me,” Nine said emphatically.
She frowned, gracefully descending, and left him literally hanging in the air.
“Hey, I—” No sooner had he spoken than he dropped to the floor like a melon off a delivery cart, landing with a hard thud. His body had been so relaxed he’d totally forgotten the rule about rolling in order to break a fall. He gave a stupid yelp as his hip protested in pain.
Kindra leaned over him. “See. I knew you could do it.”
Looking entirely too satisfied, she smiled and extended her hand to him. He took it, but instead of standing, he pulled her down to the floor beside him.
She grumbled and gave a soft laugh. The icy person she had been at the morgue earlier had warmed. She appeared more vulnerable. They reclined on their backs, staring up at the stars through the glass ceiling, both silent for several minutes.
“Was that it?” he asked. “Spiritual unity?”
“In part. The beginning.” She paused, and he could hear the pace of her breathing escalate. “There are different levels to the exercise. It’s the next level Isabelle’s mother was speaking of, the touchstone by which the experience is judged. You have to tap into it with a particular area of the brain.”
She swallowed audibly. “It could be where the virus attacks…”
He nodded. “I see where you’re going with this. The brain-spiritual connection has occurred to me also. But you believe it only attacks D Generation?”
“It appears so, although, with only one victim, it’s difficult to be absolutely certain.”
“Maybe it’s a punishment for playing God in the first place,” he said offhandedly, knowing it wasn’t a nice thing to say, but it was what he felt. He hadn’t trusted the scientists after his son’s death, and he didn’t now. If anything, he held her more responsible now that the fancy GEI science had failed a D Generation child, too.
He turned his head to look at her, and she slowly blinked. Surprisingly, she didn’t seem offended.
“You keep saying that. But it’s really not up to me,” she said as she curled onto her side, facing him. “I like to lie here for a bit afterward. You’re welcome to stay.” Her tone implied she didn’t expect him to.
“No problem,” he said, determined to take what she dished out and learn as much as he could about GEI ways, despite the fact he needed to get home. “I’ll hang out a few minutes.”
Casually, he eyed the soft peak and curved valley of her hip and waist, musing how the relaxing interlude resembled the aftermath of sex. On second thought, not nearly as good.
No, he needed to keep her at an emotional distance. His attraction to her was too strong.
At once, he placed the blame on the spiritual unity process. It couldn’t possibly be her. She was off-limits, both by law and by his personal code. Yet he didn’t want to desert her. She was a font of information.
On a sleepy sigh, her limp arm unexpectedly landed across his chest.
York tensed while every cell in his body stirred in response to the intimate contact.
He directed his thoughts from the woman at his side to something real, tangible, and obtainable as he mentally walked through the case and his next moves. He knew where to start: with the one piece of information he’d withheld from Kindra.
It was something Vi said two days ago while on a rant. Like him, Vi had lost family because of some backdoor genetic service. It was a damn shame Coders had no choice other than to deal with the dregs of society when they needed genetic help. It wasn’t about money as much as access. GEI doctors didn’t normally treat Coders, and Coder doctors didn’t have the equipment and research funds to gain much-needed expertise. Vi wondered what would happen if GEIs started to die. Then, maybe something would be done to benefit everyone, not just the genetically enhanced elite.
He didn’t suspect Vi, but he wondered if she’d heard anything more overt from her sources. How many other Coders blamed the GEI, or perhaps the WHO specifically, for medical errors and inequality?
Tomorrow, he’d see Vi at the precinct to gather a list of the top Coder-GEI scandals.
Kindra moaned, and York immediately lost his train of thought. She felt warm and soft against his side.
Ah, Jesus. He slammed back to the present. Throwing his forearm over his brow, he shut his eyes, exhausted, and fell asleep.
* * *
“What the hell is going on here?”
Kindra jerked awake. Director A-Isaac’s voice resembled a foghorn warning of an imminent crash. The sunlight shining through the glass of the unity room blinded her momentarily, but she didn’t need to see to know she was in deep trouble.
And she couldn’t move.
It took a moment to recognize the weight of a leg draped over her thigh, pinning her. When had they become so…cozy?
With a backward shove, she pushed free of York—Lieutenant Richmond, she mentally reprimanded herself—and scrambled to her feet. Standing before her superior, she staggered from a massive head rush, regained her balance, and then focused.
Isaac lifted his chin to stare down his perfect, plagiarized Nordic nose at her. “Nine said you were in here. Explain yourself.”
“Yes, sir.” She swallowed while assembling her thoughts.
Not an easy task. A quick glance at York found him still reclined on the floor, propped insolently on one elbow as he blinked sleepy eyes. Damn him. Getting caught together in an intimate embrace didn’t seem to faze him at all. And why should it? His job wasn’t the one headed for the incinerator.
Her boss cleared his throat.
She straightened. “Director A-Isaac, may I introduce Lieutenant York Richmond.” Darn the trembling catch in her throat. “We were working—”
“I know who he is,” the director cut in, his eyes locked on Kindra. “I’m aware of the case. I’ve been briefed about the death of the child, and I’ve been watching you via Comp Nine. I don’t approve of your work ethic, Dr. B-Zaika.”
His insulting tone both stung and infuriated her. “How so?”
A-Isaac put his hands behind his back, chest out. She wondered what bothered him more, that she hadn’t informed him last night of the genetic crisis or that she was cavorting with a Coder? A-Isaac was a strict purist, so it could be either—or both.
On a technical level, she agreed with him. Rules were rules. So what did that say about her?
By law, Coder and GEI copulation was forbidden, and the punishment was to be locked away in separate banished communities. The decree met with resistance on both sides, most often by those who claimed they were “in love.”
Kindra didn’t get why those Coder-GEI couples made such a big deal of it. What did love mean, anyway? Her thoughts jumped to Brianna, and she knew how much she loved her daughter. And her father. Maybe she was mistaken about selecting a life partner for companionship rather than love.
Thoughts of Brianna reminded her the annual, contracted Nanny Sally upgrade was scheduled to arrive at the house today.
So many demands on her time. She would need to call and chat with the replacement.
She snapped out of her musings and back to the matter at hand. She recognized it looked bad to be found in a compromising position at work, even though she technically wasn’t on company time. Combine that with sneaking tissue samples out of the morgue…
Oh my word, what is getting into me?
Since when had she become a rule breaker? She felt her face flush. A-Isaac had cause to be upset with her, even though it had been an accident. They had just fallen asleep.
She heard the faint scrape of York’s shoes. Though she didn’t take her eyes off A-Isaac, she was aware the lieutenant had gotten to his feet. She could feel his massive presence behind her, feel his warmth against her back.
“Sir, I’m afraid this is my fault.” York’s baritone voice was clipped, the words an admission without any a
ctual indication of apology.
“Of course it is,” A-Isaac said before York could expound on the statement.
“Wait a minute.” Kindra didn’t want anyone to think she couldn’t handle herself. Not the director, because there was a line of scientists waiting at the office door to steal her job, and not York Richmond, because he clearly thought she couldn’t stand up for herself.
He was wrong.
Her eyes darted from A-Isaac to York. She thought the lieutenant was ready to hammer something as he flexed his hand into a fist. She looked back at the director. “Since when—”
A-Isaac held up a silencing hand. “We’ll finish this discussion in my office. Now.” The director turned on his heel and marched toward the exit of the unity room, obviously expecting them to follow.
York peered at her as they fell in behind the tall man. She wanted to warn York about A-Isaac. The director was power hungry and could be a colossal pain in the ass. Worse, he had contacts in high places.
The trio gained stares from Seville employees as they trekked through the hallways. There were so many people at work already. How long had they been out? She glanced at her watch and silently cringed. It was 9:15 a.m. They had slept for six hours. Thank goodness she’d let Nanny Sally know she was needed at the lab and wouldn’t be home before she and York had entered the unity room.
When they walked past Kindra’s office, she saw Harry B-Watson standing just outside the door. He sneered, seeming quite pleased with himself.
York flashed him a cocky smile.
Kindra told York in a low tone, “This isn’t amusing. I stood before the Committee three months ago for a disciplinary meeting after altering their recommendation without approval.”
“So?” York whispered back.
“It’s not fun. And they’ll fire me.”
“I’ll see that doesn’t happen.” York half chuckled, as if considering something, then added, “At least, not for the unity room incident.”
A-Isaac led them into his office and gestured for Kindra to shut the door. As she did, he strolled behind his desk. Kindra and York remained standing.
Perfection Page 7
