Quality DNA

by Beth Martin

  “What about her?”

  Jamie pulled his hands off her waist and turned to face him. “She’s my wife.”

  He kissed her briefly on the forehead then turned away. He took the kitchen rag and started wiping down the dining table. “We need to leave soon for the meeting. Why don’t you get changed into something nicer while I finish cleaning up?”

  “Sure,” Jamie said, disappearing into the bedroom. She couldn’t deny that she had fallen for him fast. Could she really leave Irene to start a new life with him? More than anything, she wanted to have a baby. Irene only seemed to tolerate the idea of raising a child, while Aiden wholeheartedly embraced it.

  The idea of leaving Irene nagged at the back of her mind throughout the AQD meeting. Was she brave enough to leave her wife and start over in order to have the perfect little family?

  ··OOO··

  There was a loud knock at the door. At first, Jamie thought it might be Annette crashing for dinner again. She didn’t like entertaining Irene’s best friend without having Irene there, but Jamie liked the idea of spending more time with Ophelia.

  She opened the door to find a man with thinning hair wearing a black suit, black tie, and dark sunglasses. “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “I’m trying to get a hold of Irene Crow. I have this as her address.”

  “I’m her wife,” Jamie said. “She’s on a business trip in LA right now, but she should be back in a few days.”

  He pulled the sunglasses off and looked her in the eye. “It’s of utmost importance that I get a hold of her.” He was starting to scare her.

  “I could take a message and give it to her when she gets back. Unfortunately, her device broke before she left.”

  “Where in LA is she?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “When was the last time you had any contact with her?”

  “Monday,” Jamie stammered. “Um, Monday morning. Who… who are you?”

  “My name is Rick Elder. I’m an agent with the FBI.” He held out his device which displayed his credentials. “Do you know where she’s staying or who she’s with?”

  “I really don’t,” Jamie said. What kind of trouble had Irene gotten in that would have the FBI looking for her? “I wish there was more I could do to help.”

  Without another word the agent turned and walked away. Jamie closed the door.

  “Who was that?” Aiden asked, finally emerging from the bathroom.

  “An FBI agent looking for Irene.”

  Aiden’s face went cold, but he recovered a second later with a smile. “I have some work I need to do, but I’ll be back later.” He kissed her briefly before disappearing out the door.

  Jamie had work to do as well. She was meeting the owner of the gallery for a business dinner. Her opening was only a week away and they needed to iron out some of the final details. Pulling on her coat, she left the apartment as well.

  ··OOO··

  Irene’s head ached, the agony radiating from behind her temples. When she opened her eyes, she was greeted with white. White light reflecting off of white tile blurred into a painful shock on her retinas. She blinked until her pupils adjusted. She was lying on a hard, flat surface.

  A round object moved into her vision, blocking some of the light. “She’s awake.”

  Sean was standing above her watching. She tried to move, but her limbs felt heavy.

  “Ah, she lives.” His voice alone made her feel nauseous.

  “What am I doing here?” she asked.

  Aiden leaned over the side of her gurney. “You’re my latest medical experiment.”

  She started breathing rapidly. She tried to lift her head to look down at her body, but felt too weak. “What did you do to me?”

  “You said I could have your body,” he said, pulling on a pair of gloves from the pocket of his white lab coat. “Specifically your womb.”

  “What did you do to me?” she yelled.

  “Calm down.” He pulled off the crinkly paper blanket which was covering her torso and started palpating her abdomen with his fingers. “Getting stressed like that isn’t good for the baby.”

  “Baby? What baby?” Her fingers and toes began to tingle and she was able to move her hands. She wished she could shield herself from Aiden’s touch.

  “Your baby,” he said, removing the gloves. “Well, not technically your baby, but the baby you’re carrying. The proud parents are,” he took a clipboard from the wall behind her head, “Miss Diana Porter--oh she’s absolutely wonderful, university student studying American Literature, also an accomplished gymnast--and, the late Henry James.”

  “The creator of Pokey Panda?”

  “The one and only,” he said, hanging the clipboard back up.

  “But how? He’s dead,” Irene said. She tried to sit up, and Aiden offered a hand to help. She gripped his hand and pulled herself upright.

  “Yes, he is, but his family jewels are alive and well,” he said

  “That’s not possible,” Irene said.

  “It is with the magic of modern medicine. See, after siring his allotted one offspring, he came down with testicular cancer. Well, Dr. Tanaka said he had cancer. He got cancer treatment, and I got his testicles. Actually, Sean got them,” he said, pointing over at Sean.

  Irene waved her hand, not believing what she was hearing. “Wait, are you saying you transplanted Henry James’s testicles into Sean, the receptionist?”

  “He’s more of a partner, but yes, that’s the basic idea.”

  All the pieces started to fit together in her mind. Michael Shark didn’t have to do anything out of the ordinary to get Annette pregnant. Rose Clark probably got to pick the recipient of her husband's testicles after the hefty donation they made.

  Her stomach was doing flips. She pressed her hand against her abdomen. She didn’t feel pregnant.

  “I know what you're thinking,” Aiden continued. “IVF is old technology. Where’s the experiment?”

  Irene had not been thinking that, but now that he mentioned it, she felt even more sick.

  “You had an IUD which was delivering a constant stream of hormones to replace those that would have been produced by your ovaries. I had to remove that, and put in a synthetic uterine lining we’ve developed. It actually produces all the hormones needed to support the pregnancy so you won’t have to take any hormone supplements.”

  Irene couldn’t hold it back any longer. Hot bile erupted up her throat, and spilled out onto her paper blouse, dripping down to her exposed knees and onto the floor.

  “Sean,” Aiden called. Sean walked up beside him and gave Irene a disgusted look. “Could you help Irene clean herself up?”

  Irene glared at Aiden. She could no longer hide her hate.

  “Oh, by the way,” he added, “it’s Saturday. Your friends think you’ve been on a business trip in Los Angeles, so let’s stick to that story.” He turned to Sean and added, “You can send her home when you’re done. Oh, actually,” he focused back on Irene, “you probably want to go to your friend’s place, Annie or whatever her name is. Jamie is leaving you.” He turned and walked away.

  She retched again. Sean handed her a wet towel. “When you're done getting sick, clean yourself off.”

  ··OOO··

  Irene watched the scenery flash by as Sean drove her to Annette’s apartment. It wasn’t a long drive from the central subway station. She was wearing the same suit she had worn on Monday, then wore again on Tuesday. The same suit she had worn when she watched the video of Jamie and Aiden. She needed to talk to Jamie.

  Sean dropped her off in front of the posh apartment building and reminded her that she was expected to show up for work on Monday before he sped off. She went up to Annette’s door and knocked.

  “Oh my God, Irene, you look awful. Are you okay?”

  Irene shuffled into the her friend’s apartment. It was in its usual messy state, the new normal ever since Ophelia was born. “Could I borrow your device?”<
br />
  “Of course,” Annette said, getting it from the coffee table and handing it to Irene.

  “I need to make a call,” Irene said before locking herself in the bathroom. “Call Jamie Crow.”

  The line rang a few times before she answered, “Hey, Annette, I’m really busy at the gallery right now, can I call you back?”

  “Jamie...” Irene said.

  “Irene? I was starting to get worried about you. Are you back from your trip yet? How’d it go?”

  “I know,” Irene said flatly. She was met with silence.

  When it had been quiet an uncomfortable amount of time, Jamie finally said something. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

  Irene had so many questions, but wasn’t ready for any answers. She wanted to warn Jamie about Aiden, but couldn’t think of a way to word it that would make Jamie understand.

  “Should I come home?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe not,” Jamie said. “Irene? I’m really sorry.”

  “Me too.”

  There was a moment of silence. “There was a man looking for you, from the FBI. He came to the apartment. I… I don’t remember his name.”

  Irene knew she needed to say something. ‘Okay’ or even ‘thank you’ to acknowledge that she heard her wife, but she was too heartbroken to follow social convention. Instead, she pressed the disconnect button and set the device on the counter. She turned on the faucet and splashed some water on her face. What she really needed was a shower and some fresh clothes. Drying off her hands, she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was gaunt and there were hollow bags under her eyes.

  A knock on the door brought her back to the present. “Everything okay in there?” Annette asked.

  Irene opened the door. “It’s over,” she said.

  “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry,” Annette said, pulling her friend into a hug. She started crying against her friend’s shoulder. “Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll get the ice-cream?”

  ··OOO··

  Irene looked down at the bowl filled with melted chocolate chip ice-cream. Her stomach felt off, and she wasn’t sure she could eat. Last time she ate ice-cream was with Aiden in the farmhouse kitchen. She definitely couldn’t eat.

  She had wallowed in self pity for long enough. What she needed to do next was find Agent Rick. “I need to go,” she said.

  “It’s late,” Annette said. “Why don’t you stay here and get some rest?”

  “It’s about my job. I need to tell someone,” she stammered, getting up.

  “Tell me,” Annette said.

  “I can’t. I have to tell the FBI.”

  “The FBI? I know it’s hard right now, but your boss having an affair with your wife doesn’t warrant a federal investigation. Why don’t you turn in? Take my bedroom, I’ve got an extra fold out in the nursery.”

  “No. It’s something else. My business trip. I wasn’t actually in Los Angeles.”

  Annette leaned forward on the sofa. “Where were you?”

  “I was being held against my will. I need to tell Rick.”

  “Who’s Rick?”

  Irene got up and set the bowl of melted ice-cream on the counter as she made her way to the door. “My contact with the FBI.”

  “Hold on,” Annette said, getting up from the sofa. “You’ve been in contact with the FBI? What’s going on?”

  “I’ve said too much,” Irene said, opening the door and slipping through.

  “Wait,” Annette yelled. She came out into the hallway following Irene. “Take my device.” She held it out for Irene. It was one of the top-of-the-line business models. “Set new user to Irene Crow.”

  “But, you need it,” Irene said carefully holding the device.

  “I’ve got an older one somewhere. I can charge it up and use it. Please, whatever you need to do, don’t go off the grid again.”

  “Sure. Thank you.” Irene turned and went down the elevator.

  Once outside, she wasn’t entirely sure where she needed to go. Rick had always approached her while she took her Saturday morning jog. It was now evening and dark.

  She held up the device in her hand. Perhaps Annette’s device would work better than hers. “Cha cha…” she forgot she didn’t need that part. “Call FBI Agent Richard Elder.”

  “Without a contact previously added, unable to call a specific member of the FBI. Would you like to search for Richard Elder?”

  “No,” Irene sighed.

  “Would you like to call the FBI general contact line?” the device asked.

  “Yes,” Irene said. This device was a lot better. Hopefully the general switchboard could connect her to the right person.

  “Thank you for calling the United States Federal Bureau of Investigation general public line. If you would like to leave a message please say, ‘leave a message’. If you are calling for a specific person or department, please call again using their direct line. For more general information, please check our news site. Thank you for contacting the FBI.” There was a moment of silence before the call disconnected.

  Irene cursed under her breath. She would try the park where she normally ran. It was a stretch. Rick wouldn’t just wait there for her all day.

  Her car wasn’t here. It was probably still at the office. Annette wouldn’t mind if Irene borrowed her car, and since she was using Annette’s device, the car automatically unlocked for her.

  She drove to the park by the harbor. As she walked onto the trail, a sign reminded her that the park closed at dusk. There were lights illuminating the parking lot, but none when she got to the actual trail. She followed the paved path for a little bit. This had been a stupid idea. It was late. She wouldn’t find anyone here.

  Footsteps came up from behind her, and she turned to see who it was. A powerful light shining in her face momentarily blinded her. She squinted and held up her arms, but even blocking the flashlight, she couldn’t see the person holding it.

  “Good evening, ma’am. Park’s closed at dark.”

  As he got closer she could make out the dark uniform. Instead of a park ranger patrolling the trails, it was a police officer.

  “Officer, I need your help,” she said.

  “Of course. Do you have somewhere you can stay the night?”

  “I need to contact the FBI,” she said, “I’m an asset. I haven’t been able to reach my contact. I came here trying to find him. Please, I need your help.”

  “You normally meet your FBI contact here in the middle of the night?” the officer asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. She realized she was sounding crazy.

  “No, not normally at night. My name is Irene Crow. I need to find Agent Richard Elder. I’m investigating a terrorist organization and I have new information. Please, I need to talk to him. They’re doing medical experiments in the subway.” She couldn’t keep the air of desperation from creeping in her voice.

  “Can I see some ID, Miss Crow?” he said.

  “Of course.” Irene pulled the device out of her pocket. “Show identification.” The device screen displayed a swirl of colors before showing Annette’s information. Her change of user command must not have registered. “Shit, this isn’t my device. Mine broke. I’m borrowing this from a friend.”

  The officer stepped behind her and took a plastic strip from his belt, clipping it around her wrists. “I’m going to have to take you in ma’am for the possession of stolen property.”

  “It’s not stolen,” she said quickly, trying to remedy the situation. “My friend gave it to me, I swear. You can call her.” She immediately realized that was a stupid thing to say. “We can go to her apartment. She’ll vouch for me.”

  “We’re going down to the station, and you’ll get a chance to lie down and rest, and if Miss Annette decides not to press charges, you’ll be released in the morning.”

  Irene struggled against the handcuffs as the officer led her out of the park to his patrol car. “She’s not going to press charges. She’s my best friend.”


  “Well then you’ll just get a nice warm place to sleep tonight instead of the park,” he said, helping her duck into the back seat of the car. Irene wasn’t wearing her blazer, just her suit pants which had gotten dirty and stained. On top she still had on Elijah’s ill-fitting shirt. In the closed space, she could smell herself, a mix of sweat and stale vomit. The officer thought she was homeless. Why hadn’t Annette insisted she change and take a shower at her apartment?

  Irene leaned her head against the window as they drove to the station. There was nothing more she could do right now.

  seventeen

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we’re having trouble contacting the owner of the stolen device.”

  “Borrowed,” Irene corrected. “I borrowed it.” She spoke through the holes of the thick acrylic wall. The holding cell made her feel like she was on grand display for the entire police precinct. There was no privacy in the little room and too much light to let her get any sleep. Instead, she stayed up all night, rocking on the bed, waiting for an officer to contact Annette to clear up this whole misunderstanding and let her go.

  “Did you try her brother, Ray? Raymond Blisburn?” she asked. She had already recommended calling him. Twice.

  “Can’t reach him either,” the officer said. He didn’t look like he was in a hurry to release her as he leaned back casually in his desk chair.

  “What about her sister-in-law, Clara Blisburn?”

  “Can’t reach her.”

  “Is it the baby?” Irene asked, pressing against the clear wall. “It’s the baby, isn’t it? She’s at the hospital having her baby. That’s why you can’t reach them. Annette and Ray would be there with her. Try calling the hospital.”

  The officer sighed and leaned forward, picking up the handset for private calling. He poked at his device a few times. She couldn’t tell if he was actually calling or just pretending to get her to shut up. Pulling her hair, she let out an exasperated grunt and began pacing around the small cell.

  A man dressed in a black suit approached the officer at the desk, and the officer immediately set down the handset. They had a quick whispered conversation before he came up to the holding cell and looked at Irene. It wasn’t Rick Elder, but he was definitely FBI.