Edge of Midnight (39 page)

“Detective Wallace, from the police department,” he said. “They found Sean’s phone, in a pool of blood. At a murder scene.”

“Murder scene?” Con’s voice sounded strangled. “Whose murder?”

“Blair Madden,” Davy said. “Shot in the throat, in the parking garage. No Sean. No Liv, either. The filthy son of a bitch got them.”

There was a moment of blank disbelief, and Miles spun around to check the monitor. “Wait. Don’t we still have Liv on the Specs?”

Liv’s icon blinked away, its position unchanged. “It’s just her cell,” Davy said. “She doesn’t have it on her.”

“Who do we squeeze?” Con said grimly. “Parrish? Or Beck?”

“Beck’s closer,” Davy said. “Stupider. If he hasn’t skipped town.”

Miles’s mom bustled in, with her usual kick-ass timing. “I have some sandwiches.” She looked around, smile fading. “Is everything OK?”

Miles took the tray, set it down, and gave her an impulsive kiss on the cheek. “Mom, I need the keys to your new car.”

“How did he connect me to you? Ask yourself that! Those thugs attacked me! I have bruises!” Parrish’s voice cracked with outrage.

“I’m so sorry. I’m dealing with this little problem as we speak—”

“This little problem? Is that what you call it?”

Osterman winced. “I know that it’s a serious breach of—”

“Your inappropriate methods of dealing with problems are what got us into this!” Parrish raged. “Every risk you take exposes Helix to bad publicity that could cost our sharehholders hundreds of millions!”

“I understand, but in my own defense, I must remind you that—”

“You have no defense,” Parrish snarled. “What you have is a huge expense account. One or the other, Osterman. The next hint I get of any misconduct, we cut you loose. You take full responsibility for whatever mess you’ve created, and we will be shocked and sad.”

“Mr. Parrish, I—”

“I thought your organization was legitimate! I trusted you, Osterman! I allowed my own daughter to participate in the program! Now I find that the person I entrusted her to is a violent criminal?”

“Lies,” Osterman protested. “The McClouds have made me a scapegoat for their brother’s death, and they are trying to ruin my—”

“I don’t want to know the sordid details.”

The connection broke.

Osterman slammed the phone down. How dare Parrish speak to him like this? If Helix was worth billions, it was due to Osterman. The cutting edge treatments for paralysis, spinal cord and brain damage, the immensely profitable weapons applications, all of it was fruit of Osterman’s tremendous effort and sacrifice. He alone was strong enough to take the necessary ethical burdens upon his conscience, for the greater good of humanity. To create a legacy for future generations.

And the man had scolded him!

So it gave Parrish the shivers that his precious daughter had participated in Osterman’s progam? He remembered Edie. Thin, big wary eyes. Artistic. A psychic component that made her family nervous.

Oh, how he’d longed to see what an interface with Edie might yield. But she was Parrish’s baby girl. Her brain was off-limits.

Still, as it often happened, his fascination with Edie had launched a new avenue of research. He’d begun experimenting with artistically gifted geniuses, not just math and science types, which had widened the scope of test subjects nicely. The results were tantalizing, though not yet in shape to publish or patent. He’d found many talented Edie clones without rich fathers to protect them. In fact, the Edie experience had marked the beginning of his preference for working with girls.

And Gordon had been so happy about the girls. Keeping Gordon happy was a very important consideration. In fact, he was intrigued by the thought of playing with Cynthia, once Gordon finally reeled her in. She was quite gifted, if the online music reviews were to be trusted. He’d never tried an X-Cog interface with a musical talent before.

He had a vivid spontaneous fantasy, of putting the X-Cog crown onto Edie Parrish. Compelling her to kneel before him, open his pants and perform oral sex upon him, obedient and docile as a lamb.

While Charles Parrish watched, of course. Tied and gagged.

He had conducted similar experiments, although he usually compelled the subjects to service Gordon, not himself. Using the X-Cog master crown required concentration. Sexual pleasure was distracting. The few times he’d tried it, he’d found it more irritating than exciting.

But for Parrish, he would exert himself. Oh, indeed he would.

Cindy huddled in the plush marble bathroom stall, and punched in a text message to Miles. The Haven had proved to be a luxurious complex set way back on a wooded hill in a little town named Arcadia.

She pulled the beacon out of her pocket, followed the printed instructions to start transmission. It had two days of battery juice.

No way could she keep up this charade for two days, but hey. Nobody had asked her to do this. If they felt like it, they could come for her. If not, tough luck for her. They might be too busy hunting down all the other bad guys, and she didn’t blame them if they were.

And with that stern pep talk, she punched the beacon code into her SMS, and pushed send. She had no excuse, other than a nervous pee which produced about two drippy drops, not to go face Jared.

The common room was lined with books, couches and computers. Jared grinned when he saw her, and flagged down a handsome older guy in a flapping white lab coat who was striding across the room.

“Hey! Dr. O! Let me introduce you to—”

“Not now, Jared. I’m busy.”

“But it’s the new recruit I was telling you about,” Jared persisted. “You told me you wanted to meet her as soon as I brought her in!”

Doctor O turned with a scowl, like he was going to bite Jared’s head off—until he saw her. His face went blank. Then he smiled.

Cindy’s neck prickled. She was used to attention from guys, but this felt different. And that toothy grin as he strode across the room did not reassure her one bit. Oh, my, what big teeth you have.

“And this lovely young lady’s name is…?” he asked.

She shook his hand. A warm, strong grip. A nice, manly man handshake, and yet, she suddenly wanted to pee again. “Um…Mina.”

“Wonderful to meet you, Mina. I hope Jared’s treating you well.”

“Oh, he’s been great,” she assured him.

“I’ve been explaining the testing phase,” Jared told him. “I figured, since it’s so late, we’ll have dinner and get started tomorrow.”

“No, Jared. I need her today,” Dr. O said.

Jared looked bewildered. “But she hasn’t done any of the—”

“No need for pretesting,” Dr. O said. “She specializes in acoustic physics, right? Give your cell phone to Jared, please, Mina.”

She blinked at him. “Huh?”

His smile was stern, but charming. “House policy. It helps us all concentrate. You will have one half hour period every day to answer messages and phone calls. Don’t worry. Jared will keep it safe for you.”

She passed it over, with fingers that shook. Last hope lost.

“Come along, Mina. I’ll show you the rest of the facility. We’ll see you at dinner, Jared,” Dr. O said.

Jared blinked at the dismissal, turned, and hurried out. Cindy was crushed to see him go. With her cell phone, too. Her last two allies.

Dr. O led her down a long breezeway, down a path through towering trees towards another building complex. Down several flights of stairs, into an underground building that had been cut right into the slope of the hill. They went in. The corridor seemed incredibly long.

Their footsteps echoed in the silence. Dr. O swiped a card, and put his eye up to a machine that shot a beam of red light into it.

The door hissed, clicked, opened. He led her into a big room with no windows, shut the door, and looked into the retinal scan thingamabob again. Big bolts slid, deep into the heavy door. Ka-thunk.

“My lair,” he said, in a joking tone.

She tried to smile. “Uh, wow. It’s an amazing place.”

He perched on the edge of a table. “Welcome to the Haven, Cynthia.”

The words sank in. She had to fight to keep from passing out.

Davy didn’t bother to knock on Beck’s door. He just turned the knob and yanked it open, using a tissue he’d gotten out of the car.

It struck Miles as strange that it wasn’t locked, but the McClouds just pushed on into the house. He scurried after them. Davy stopped, turned, waved his hand at Miles to go back outside. Like hell. No way were they cutting him out of the action now. He sidled along the wall after Con, ignoring the squinty glares and the frantic hand gestures.

They rounded the corner. Marble steps led down into a vast sea of pale beige, with couch and chair islands adrift in it. The main island had a huge black coffee table. A vase was knocked over on it, pointy red flowers scattered across the light-colored rug—oh. No. Oh, shit.

A foot stuck out from behind the coffee table. Bare. Bluish.

They circled the room in absolute silence, and stared down at what had once been Professor Beck.

His head was half gone, and part of his face. His blood and brains were scattered in a dramatic, fanlike arc behind him.

Con let out a long, careful sigh. “This, we did not need.”

“No,” Davy agreed. “I don’t think things could get much worse.”

Miles swayed on his feet. This was the second violent, bloody death he’d seen that day. The first one, on tape, had been bad enough.

But at least he hadn’t had to smell it.

His stomach lurched. He bolted out of the place in a stumbling run. Out the door, across the grass, and he tumbled onto his knees, heaving coffee-flavored gastric juices onto the ornamental shrubs.

He was trembling and tearful and embarrassed when his gut finally stopped spasming. He dragged himself up onto rubbery legs, wiped his eyes and nose on the sleeve of Sean’s Armani. His phone chimed, in his pocket. He pulled it out and read the text message.

mina went 2 meet mindmeld. sorry.

haven in arcadia. took a beacon. code 42BB84 follow the bread crumbs if u feel like itwish me luck pretending I have a brainyrs cin

The world spun. Darkness slopped up over his mind.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump and shriek.

“If you’re done depositing genetic material on Beck’s lawn, could we get the fuck out of here?” Con said. “Before they haul us in?”

Miles straightened up, and held out his cell. “Davy. You know how you said you didn’t think things could get any worse?”

Davy’s eyes sharpened with dread. “Yeah?”

He passed over the phone. “You were wrong.”

Pain, pain, and more pain. White hot screaming stabs of it, slicing right through him like a hot knife through butter. He was strapped into some sort of chair. Pain was everywhere, but the molten epicenter was in his right shoulder. A guy with a bloody lab coat was holding a scalpel and tongs. He went at Sean’s shoulder with it. Gouging and rending.

“Fuck,” Sean hissed, bucking and straining.

The guy displayed a dripping bullet clamped in his tongs. “Just a flesh wound,” he said, his tone reproving.

Sean stared at the guy, baffled. “I’ve died and gone to hell?”

The guy grinned. “Not quite yet. Think of me as a preview, if you like.” He moved to the side, displaying the room with a flourish.

Sean’s chest clutched around his heart. Liv lay there, inert, hands and ankles fastened with tight leather straps to the frame of the gurney.

T-Rex stood there, fondling her. He licked his thick lips as he ran his hand up the inside of Liv’s thigh. “Nice,” he said. “Warm and soft.”

“Not yet, Gordon,” Lab Coat said sternly. “I have other plans for her. You can play with the other one. After we’re done, of course.”

Other one? What the hell? Sean could turn his head just far enough to make out a slender girl curled up on the floor. Her hands were fastened to the radiator, her hair hanging over her face. She looked up.

Cindy. That poor, silly chick. Fresh sadness welled up inside him. “Aw, shit, honey. I cannot tell you how sorry I am to see you here.”

“M-me, too,” she stuttered. “Right back atcha.”

Sean strained in his bonds, rattling the chair. “So, then. You must be Osterman. The shit-eating maggot who killed my brother.”

Osterman tipped a gallon bottle of alcohol, letting it glug out onto a cotton swab, and swiped the soggy thing, urgently, over Sean’s arm. Sean convulsed with a fresh bolt of agony. “Yes, I am Osterman,” the guy said. “Hold still while I stitch this up.”

Sean struggled with that. “What’s the point of stitching me?”

“I’m not killing you yet,” Osterman explained. “I’ll keep you alive as long as I can. I don’t want you dying of a stupid infection.”

That sounded ominous. “What the hell do you want from me?”

“Your brain.” Osterman jabbed his needle through torn flesh. “I’ve refined X-Cog so much since I experimented on Kevin with it. He was remarkable, you know. He forged new neural pathways to bypass the nerve induction, right on the spot, just to spite me. Unbelievable.”

Sean gasped with pain. “Before you murdered him?”

Osterman stabbed the raw meat of Sean’s shoulder again. “I’ve been trying to duplicate those results ever since. And here you are, an identical genetic copy of Kevin McCloud, on a silver platter. The genes must have expressed themselves very differently in you. I hear you’re quite a low achiever, compared to your twin brother.”

Sean’s teeth dug into his lip at the next savage poke. “That’s a…a matter of opinion. I survived, right? Until now, anyhow.”

Osterman chuckled. “Perhaps you’re right. You might have a certain low cunning that Kevin lacked.”

“What did you do to these kids?” Sean demanded. He was queasy with pain, and terrified out of his freaking wits, but so damn curious.