"Thank your creator you don't know what she has done to you," Ellery whispered as she rose.
Oh, I know, George thought. I know. He could feel the rage begin to build and he fought to keep it hidden. It would not do for this woman or anyone else to be aware that inside this ever changing body, he still existed. Not until he was ready. That time had not yet come. He still hadn't mastered what the changes had wrought. But one day he would. He chuckled inside himself at the thought.
He watched Ellery search through the drawers, watched her replace everything exactly as it had been, even rebending the corner of a file pocket. A thorough, methodical woman, he thought. She pays attention to every detail. Not like Bianca. Bianca was so sure of herself that she missed the little things, things she should have seen. His soundless chuckle came again.
The disc flashed and the desk was once again locked. From the third drawer of the file cabinet, unlocked as smoothly as the desk had been, she pulled out a thick journal. A smile flitted across her face. Sitting down at the desk, she quickly scanned the pages. "Dakotan Extinction," she read softly. "Well, we'll see about that, Doctor Raborman." A second later, she held the recorder to the page.
George jerked his gaze toward the open entry. Someone was coming and this someone he knew. His eyes swung back to the woman bent intently over a journal page. If she left now, she could escape. Why didn't she move?
Somfbitch, he thought. She can't hear the sounds or smell the smell. The whore would have Ellery Jensen cornered and Ellery was Bianca's nemesis. He neither knew, nor cared, why; it was enough that she was.
He screamed a challenge into the dark.
Ellery jumped, trained the light onto the cage.
Topaz eyes glaring, George thrashed and pummeled the iron bars, letting the sounds rip from his throat as his smoothly tapered head thrust forward in the direction of the paneled doorway.
She whirled toward the opening and froze.
George could hear her chattering thoughts. It must be Bianca, they said. He smells her coming. My God, I've missed Harmon's crossover. Slamming the journal shut, she shoved it back into the cabinet drawer and ran from the room. A second later the panel slid closed.
Still George raged at the bars. He would taste the power of that hated rod tonight. He always did when he challenged. His muscles tightened at the thought, but again his voice roared.
She was there, rod in hand. Her eyes glistened, her cheeks were flushed, her breathing heavy as she advanced.
"When will you ever learn, my pet," she said. "When will you ever learn?" White light cracked out and down.
George twisted and bellowed and hated until Ellery's mind became faint and fuzzy. Only then did he back into the corner of the cage—meek and subdued—while Bianca sent jolt after jolt of lasered shock into his body.
An hour before dawn light, George listened to the sound of the launch leaving the island.
Bianca was gone.
Twenty minutes later, the soft whoosh of the Pelican returning to the island echoed in the silence. His mind searched for and found the small figure crouched beneath the willow branches. Ellery had missed her ride home the first time—she wouldn't miss it this time.
She was safe.
George relaxed his pain-filled body.
He slept.
Chapter 48
Bianca
"Run, Dakotan! Run."
The taunt echoed across the street. From the steps of Grace Cathedral, Bianca turned and watched a boy stumble, regain his balance, and continue running in her direction, his legs pumping, his arms swinging. Two black clad thugs rounded the corner, raced to head the boy away from the church. Too late.
The youngster hesitated at the bottom of the steps and looked up—in his face was the frantic terror of cornered prey. His arms reached up in supplication, tears streaming down his face.
"Help me. Please help me."
The men slowed their approach as she took a casual step down. Her glance flicked up the street. "Of course I'll help you—Dakotan," she said, taking another step downward.
His eyes widened as he looked into her smiling face. His arms dropped and he shook his head in disbelief. "It is a church," he whispered. "Sanctuary."
"Is it?"
He whirled and darted into the street.
A shot rang out.
The boy dropped.
Bianca’s smile widened. Today had been a good day. Two Dakotan women sterilized and now a Dakotan male removed from the list. All was proceeding as planned. By this time next year, the Dakotan menace would be completely neutralized—except for the few she would send to her lab. She recalled the day she returned to the island earlier than usual and caught Leann typing a letter to Ellery Jensen. The smile vanished. "How different the outcome might have been if that little sneak had succeeded in getting that warning mailed," Bianca muttered to herself. From a distance, the warning sound of a speeding ambulance drew closer. Bianca turned and entered the Cathedral’s stillness without a backward look.
Inside, she strode purposefully to a side door and tapped twice. A moment later she held in her hands the communiqué from Brazil. It was as important as Father Paul had indicated. No wonder he didn't want to read or transmit it to her over the phone.
"So John Jensen is the phantom leader of the Aristocrat Party. That's not good. With his abilities, he could outthink Christ himself. That group just might effect a successful coup." She wondered if Ellery knew that her precious son was a traitor. "Have you been able to reach His Holiness? Does he know about this?"
The communications clerk shook his head. "Can't find him. He may be somewhere in the Eastern Bloc territory. No one knows for sure."
"Ha! They know all right—they're just not giving out the information. He's probably traipsing around the Saharan desert inspecting those new water wells or laying out the site for the freezing center. Did you try Cardinal Morandi?"
"Yes. No luck. He didn't seem to be too concerned, though."
Bianca's lip curled. "Maybe this time he should have been a little more cooperative." She slapped the message against the palm of her hand twice then reread the information. Her eyes narrowed. "I'll take care of it myself. Ready the terminal to send." Six minutes later, receive verification flashed onto the screen. Her instructions would be carried out immediately, if they could find the Party leader. He had vanished into thin air, as usual.
She punched the pad furiously. Find him! Unless you want to answer to His Holiness.
Turning to the young man standing beside her, she said, "Anything else?"
The clerk shook his head.
"Good. I have other things to do." She whirled and strode back the way she'd come, her thoughts on the Aristocrat Party.
Munoz had repeatedly refused to open the grid for the Brazilian conglomerate; he had insisted that control remain in Church hands before doing so. The Brazilian Governors had dug in their heels—no Church control. Under the guidance of, she now knew, Ellery's son, a small nucleus of malcontents calling themselves the Aristocrat Party had decided to take matters into their own hands. The masses responded. They wanted grid power. Now this plan to oust the governing body and rule the country themselves! It was time to stop these revolutionaries. Past time.
Munoz would be furious, of course, but if killing John Jensen was what it took, so be it.
She glanced at her watch. Two-thirty already. She would have to hurry if she was going to be on time for Sefura's plane. Threading her way through the city traffic, Bianca's thoughts turned to the Dakotan elimination—and Leann Carter.
How had the woman found out about the program? There were only two copies of the agenda specifics in existence: her journal and the copy she had personally handed to Raphael. Neither source would have been available to Jerico's boss. The list of Dakotan women? Couldn't be. That request specified a simple locality sorting so community clinics could offer free pregnancy care. There was nothing to indicate the sterilization program. That left only one avenue open. Sh
e was obviously sneaking around, listening to private conversations between myself and Raphael, Bianca concluded. She made a mental note to check the conference room security.
She had told Munoz that the girl couldn't be trusted, but he refused to listen. Now, the sterilization program was on hold until someone who could handle the Jerico database was hired. Bianca knew exactly who that someone was going to be; the one person she knew who could be trusted and would never ask questions—little sister.
"Damn," she said under her breath as she passed an arrowed directional. A sharp twist of the wheel put her on the VIP ramp for arriving passengers. A horn blared and she waved, smiling into the rearview mirror.
"Fifteen minutes at the latest," she said, handing her keys to the parking valet. Five minutes later, she saw Sefura's red hair shining in the crowd of disembarking passengers.
"Sorry I missed your graduation, Sef," she said as they made their way to the luggage station.
"Me, too, but I understand." The girl squeezed her sister's hand. "It must have been awful for you. What was Miss Carter doing out there on that ledge anyway? Especially in the dark."
"Who knows?" Bianca shrugged her shoulders. "But it's over now. Let's talk about less morbid things. Did you get your apprenticeship approval?"
"I haven't heard, yet, but it looks promising. Until I do hear, would you like your old assistant back?"
"Do you know anything about computers?"
"Basic 101." The girl chuckled. "That means I know most of the commands and am a fast typist."
"Think you could operate Jerico?"
"Jerico! I don't know. As long as I don't have to mess around with his programming—maybe. He's pretty temperamental. Miss Carter used to let me play around with the console when she wasn't real busy, but not enough to count." Her face glowed with anticipation.
"No programming required, Sef. I'm sure you can figure out the rest of it. Only until you hear from the Library of Antiquities, though. Now, let's get you home so I can get back to the Foundation. I still have another hour or two of work to finish. In the meantime, you get some rest. We'll go to dinner when I return."
"That sounds perfect. I am a little tired."
It wasn't until they were on the freeway that Sefura asked the question Bianca had been expecting. "How's George?"
"Not good, Sef. Not good at all." Her mouth drew down. "You'll see soon enough. There have been some complications that I don't wish to go into right now. We'll talk about George tomorrow."
She didn't miss the sharp look her sister cast in her direction, but she refused to respond, keeping the conversation light and easy as she wove in and out of traffic. Not until tomorrow, little sister, she thought. When your mind is dazed with shock, only then will I tell you about the serum.
From the moment of Leann's deception, she had known what she must do, had known how and when to make certain that Sefura would choose to become a permanent Foundation staffer. Tomorrow, her sister would make that choice, would forget about the Library of Antiquities. She began to whistle.
With rod in hand, Bianca stepped through the paneled opening and strolled toward the iron cage. The creature's head was lifted high, its nostrils testing the air. The head came down and topaz eyes glared a warning. Pointing the rod, she waited. There was no response. "You can come in, now," she said over her shoulder.
Sefura entered the room, a broad smile upon her face. "Surprise, George." She froze in mid-step. The yellow eyes watched, the tapered head jerked from side to side. Sefura stepped back as if in slow motion, her own head moving in concert with his.
"I . . . he . . . you said complications, Bianca. My God! This is more than just complications. This is, this is—" She wiped her hand across her face.
"Tragic. I know, Sef. But it's done and it can't be undone. Crass as it may sound to you now, my duty as a scientist is to study the effects."
"Effects?"
"Of the animal serum."
Sefura's face blanched. Her gaze flicked to another cage and then jumped to the rows of bottles sitting on glass shelves.
"You gave Mr. Kayman the animal serum?" The girl's voice was a choked whisper. She began to tremble.
"Sef! You know better than that. I was trying to cure his disease. I didn’t know the drug was contaminated until the night George went through the same metamorphic change the ape had gone through several weeks before."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"There was nothing you could have done. By then, it was too late to reverse the changes. As I said, what's done is done." She patted her sister's arm. "Now we must learn from it."
Sefura broke away from Bianca's hand and rushed to the cage. "Oh, George," she cried, thrusting her hand between the bars. "What have I done to you?"
A low keening issued from the creature's throat. A film covered the topaz eyes. Slowly, one clawed appendage reached out.
"No!" Bianca screamed. She leapt to her sister's side, yanked her back, and lifted the silver rod. The creature's arm dropped to its chest. He howled his rage as the light arced. "Get out of this room, Sefura. Now." Once more, she pointed her weapon.
Her sister fled.
Several minutes later, Bianca stepped into the outer lab and buzzed the panel closed. Sefura huddled in a chair, her hands covering her ears. Tears streamed down her face.
It's time for the decision, Bianca thought. "Would you rather not work here at the Foundation, Sef?" Her voice was gentle as she handed tissues to the girl. "If not, I'll understand. I know this has been a shock for you. Besides, I'm sure you'll be hearing from The Library any day now. It might be best if you stayed at the palace, maybe do some more work on Pope Munoz's journals while you're waiting."
Sefura straightened. "I'm going to cancel my request. You need a Jerico operator. I'd like to formally apply for the position."
"I can't let you do that, Sef. It's been your dream to serve your apprenticeship at the Library of Antiquities." She squatted beside the girl's chair. "It isn't George anymore, Sef. It's an animal. A dangerous one."
"Did you know he once thanked me for being his friend? He recognized me. I know he did. I'm staying."
"Sef—"
"If I hadn't convinced him to keep taking the drugs, to let you try to find a cure for his disease, he would never have received tainted serum. It's my fault he came to this. Now he's my responsibility." Her eyes bored into Bianca's. "Do I need to send my application to His Holiness?"
Bianca rose. Her jaw tight. "If that's your decision."
"It is. As I said—I'm staying."
"So be it. The employment contracts are at the front desk." Stiff backed, she left the room. Her lips pulled into a smile as Sefura followed behind.
Chapter 49
Munoz
Munoz felt his shoulders tense with anticipation as the sand skimmer neared the crest of the dune. On the other side, the City of the Dead was waiting for him. This trip would be his third and final annual inspection. Construction was finished. It felt like only yesterday that he'd walked these sands with Dane Wyland and tasted the first draw of cool, clear water from the wells, but he knew it wasn't. Tomorrow, the first of the five thousand clients would arrive and in-vaulting would commence. He leaned forward and tapped his driver on the shoulder.
"Stop here," he commanded. The craft settled to the sand and Munoz climbed out. "Wait—I'll be right back."
A sense of destiny flooded his mind as he overlooked the expanse of simple white buildings some two hundred and fifty feet below him. A mighty wheel it seemed, its turning paused but for a moment on the desert sands: a seven story central building formed the hub, the freezing vaults the spokes, and the perimeter walkway the rim.
A faint popping sound echoed up the dune and his gaze turned toward the western edge of the city where a thousand tents still sprawled across the sand, their sidewalls snapping in the desert wind. He filled his eyes with the sight. Before the week was out, only the cube-shaped freezing vaults and a handful of caretakers
would remain as testimony to Dane Wyland's engineering feat. He nodded with satisfaction. The man was indeed a gifted engineer. Turning back, he made his way to the skimmer and a moment later the vehicle glided to a stop before the compound's central building.
Climbing the four broad steps that encircled the building like a wide-banded bracelet, he stared upward. Bronze doors, flanked by soaring columns, extended nearly two stories. On the columns, carved in bass relief, a gigantic balance scale. The left dish held a vase, the right a feather. Across the squared topline, the fulcrum stretched. A fitting design, he thought. The scales of Maat to weigh the hearts of those who go through these doors.
Turning slowly, he stared down cut stone walkways lined with vault cubes. He chuckled to himself. A true diplomat, his engineer. By refusing to allow cube adornments of any kind, Wyland had neatly sidestepped grumbled claims of status discrimination. Only the surname and an identification number inscribed over the door of each tomb separated one from the other.
His gaze came back to the columns and fixed on the right hand dish with its carved feather; he hesitated an infinitesimal second before entering the coolness of the control center.
Across the room, three women and seven men looked up from flashing control boards. A tall young man strode forward with his hand outstretched.
"Your Holiness! We didn't expect you until tomorrow."
"My schedule changed." Munoz shook Dane's hand. "I have to be in San Francisco tomorrow, which doesn't leave me as much time as I would like for inspection, but I did want to see the finished product before arrivals begin."
"I understand. Shall we start here, then?"
As they strolled from board to board, Dane briefly explained the vault operation, pointed out the check monitors, and introduced each staff member. The Pontiff listened politely. Wyland had built the plant. He would naturally be confident, but Munoz wanted to hear that same confidence echoed by the staff. Only then would he be ready to entrust his Plan to this endeavor.
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