Gene Drifters: The Clone Soldier Chronicles-Book III (25 page)

She took off, running to Stubbs Road, past White Jade and
Taipan Court, took a right at Mount Nicolson Road, then left the road, running
across the open space and private yards, to Aberdeen Country Park. At about
half way into the park, she took a quick left towards the tunnel, the Aberdeen
Tunnel of course. It was her rendezvous point.
He’d
be there waiting.

“There she is, sir. We have a mark on her. She’s running
towards the park, we’ve got a lock on her position. It looks like she’s out for
a walk in the park, sir,” the head of the pursuing team spoke into his com to
the head of security following Rose on his vids. Dorian hacked it, of course.
And Rose had detached her tracking collar; she had left it in a snake hole back
in the center of the park. Dorian made the tracking collar appear to be moving
from time to time.

“Keep your distance. We can’t harm the mongrel, on Mr.
Songtain’s orders. It’s his pet, just stay back, and watch it. She’s got those
teeth. Don’t scare her, just watch. Maintain at twenty feet. You got that?”

“Yes, sir, will do.” The pursuit team was relieved. No one
wanted to get facial regen, even at the Lanai R&R.

“Rose, I’ve altered the course on your collar. Do you still
have the formula?” Dorian asked, as he watched the entire scene from his
control room at Donner Pass.

“Yes whoooofhhwhhwh!” Rose managed to muster a mumble only
because she’d practiced talking out of the side of her mouth. Her jaws were
clamped on the paper with the
Stem-wads
®
formula. She’d removed
it when her collar released and fell off after Dorian accessed its locking
code. It was her idea to leave the collar in the snake hole.

“Good, now proceed to the tunnel, and at midsection, just
below Hong Kong Trail 4 you will find a small tunnel exit portal. Take it. Contact
me when you get there, Dorian out.” Rose took off at a healthy dog sprint, glad
she’d done those extra runs on the treadmill each morning. They always kept it
in the back cab of the rig so she and Roxanne could keep in shape on those long
hauls. Dorian offed the bot, but kept the vid of Rose to on, in case an
emergency arose. His main concern was Roxanne. SHE WOULD BE DANCING A DANGEROUS
TANGO WITH LEO AND HIS SECURITY TEAM.

                                                                                    
22

LEO AND ROXANNE WERE IN FACT DANCING A TANGO; no, I mean
really
dancing a Tango.

She couldn’t think of what else to do with him. His eyes
just kept darting to the bedroom, and Roxanne could not remember if she’d put
everything back in order in that safe after her
Stem
-
wads
®
formula heist.

“Are you sure you don’t want to see what that gold key will
open, Roxanne? I have lots of beautiful things inside my safe room, really
pretty jewelry, diamonds, even rubies, one’s that will match your hair, Oh, the
hair!” Roxanne thought he’d faint again. She’d had a hard time explaining why
she’d drugged him. He had finally accepted that she wanted to be sure Rose got
away, and then just take things slow.

“After all Leo, we haven’t seen each other since grad
school. You remember the lacrosse game?” They’d spent the past hour elaborately
going over that one time she’d patted him on the head after a lacrosse game. The
remainder was spent with Roxanne trying to talk Leo out of getting her some
jewelry from the safe in his bedroom.

“Leo, you know
I don’t want
any of your things. Really, it was Rose I was concerned about. As long as she’s
safe and makes it back home, I’m happy. (
Especially with that formula
)”
Roxanne was thinking. She was in constant audio-bot with Dorian, listening in to
the com conversation between Rose and Dorian about a rendezvous in Aberdeen
Tunnel. Rose had to make it to the rig dock at Aberdeen Harbor in time to catch
a submersible back to Tokyo, and Morton’s return trip eastbound. It had to
happen before Leo discovered the safe heist.

Roxanne knew she’d just have to trust Dorian at this point…and
keep Leo out of his bedroom. He’d notice the messed up lacrosse t-shirt
“shrine” in the vault, immediately. She had not had time to put the glass back
on the frame and hang it back up properly. But she was sure she’d closed all
the drawers to those now missing diamonds, the ones now tinkling in the hidden
pockets inside her boots.

They executed a rapid tango twist, causing the diamonds to
make that sound again, and Leo said, “I must confess that I bought you a
diamond ring, Roxanne. I was hoping you’d think of it as a promise ring; another
Fueblaster?” Leo changed the subject quickly, realizing he’d overstepped.

Roxanne almost choked on her drink.

She made a rapid tango dip. Thankfully, the music was loud
enough to mask the sound of several billion vouchers worth of diamonds jumbling
against each other in her boots. She had no idea why she’d taken them. It was
not part of Dorian’s plan, and he might be angry she had stolen from Leo.

“Just get the formula, Roxanne. We have no need for Inc. CEO
blood money.” That’s what he’d probably say. But here she was, doing a tango
with weird, obsessed Leo Songtain, in black leather boots lined with diamonds.

What is that ancient song about diamonds on the soles of
your shoes?

“No thank you Leo. I’ve had enough Fueblaster to last a
while, although your drinks are mixed and chilled to perfection. How about some
dinner, maybe some pink abalone steaks with a dry Chardonnay? It’s my
favorite.” “
Whatever abalone is
,” Roxanne thought to herself; she had
never even seen one, not even when she went diving off the #4 up top platform
to hunt for sharks. She thought pink abalone had gone extinct a hundred years
ago. But, Leo would try to find it for her or get some cloned; and it would buy
her some time. Once she got word that Rose was safely out of Hong Kong
territory, she’d agree to check out his safe, but alone first. She’d make up
some excuse about wanting to select her own jewelry. Then she could put
everything back in order.

Rose also needed to buy some time. She’d reached the end of
the park, near where Dorian told her she would find an entry portal to Aberdeen
tunnel. But, there was no tunnel in sight. She could hear the guards
approaching from not very far off, and it was starting to rain, in
multi-colored sheets.

It was that kind of rain, acid then basic…like that old
song,
Purple Rain
.

Rose had to seek cover, and quickly. The guards and their
dogs would have protective cover suits, but Rose had none, and if the rain hit
her for too long her fur would melt and she’d look like a giant Chihuahua.
How
humiliating
! She ducked under a piece of tarp, probably left by a homeless
person, and peeked out for another try at finding the well-hidden tunnel entry
portal. It would be well hidden because it was used daily by homeless and
zone-less welfs, as their entry to whatever they used for an underground
shelter once the sun came out.

“I’ve got to find the entry. Dorian, I’m here but I don’t
see it. Can you emit a signal for me?” Rose was, of course, referring to the
emission of a high-pitched sound, geared to the superior auditory abilities of
canines.
Do I brag
?

“I am initiating the signal now, Rose. Please follow the
alternating tones. They should become stronger as you approach the door,”
Dorian responded. “Once inside you will be met by someone you know. That person
will take care of your needs.”

Dorian initiated the signal and Rose slid in a crouched
position, very slowly, to the position of the sound, trying not to alert the
approaching team of Leo’s security guards. But, they saw her...and the dogs
heard the signal.

“I think I have a vid on her, sir. I can see the dog. Should
I grab her, or stand back. We could stun her. We’ve got a cage, and our dogs
are ready.” Rose could hear one guard speaking, just off to her left at about
one hundred yards. And she could smell the hunting dogs. They’d be hard to
control; might take one of her ears before they could be subdued. It was stupid
of the guards to bring them along. They’d be fired if Rose was damaged. Even she
knew that.

The dogs ran towards the high-pitched sound, and got close
enough to catch her scent under the tarp. But Rose managed to reach the tunnel
door, cram herself inside, and slam it shut as the lead dog nipped a piece of her
tail off.

“Shit, that hurt. Oh boy, oh boy, that hurt.” Rose howled
silently to herself so the guards would not discover the well-hidden door. The
alpha search dog had taken a two inch chunk of Rose’s tail as a souvenir. The
next thing that hit her was the sound…of a high pitched whistle, used by canine
control units, and not unlike a forced session at a
Pink Centipede
concert. Rose wrapped her paws around her ears and knuckled under for the
duration.

“Sorry about the noise, but I had to deter your pack of
admirers outside. I’ll take care of those guards outside in a minute, Rose. We
gotta go now.”

A familiar voice spoke in Maori. The voice belonged to a recognizable
face with glow-in-the-dark eyes, the kind only present in natural mutants,
clone soldiers, or in those original, cloned humans made by those crazy
uncontrolled scientists, back at the start of the WME period. The man bent down
to open his pack, took out a travel-type, at-home, do-it-yourself surgery kit,
applied a regen wrap onto the end of Rose’s tail, and took off, Rose running
behind in the dark tunnel. As Rose ran, it occurred to her that only a few
species could run accurately and that fast in a pitch dark tunnel, animals with
dark vision, like dogs, and those old time human clones. Rose was following one
of the original clone soldiers, Michael Segev.

Back at the Opus, Roxanne and Leo finished their tango and had
just sat down to eat dinner, on fine platinum lined, bone china, by candle
light, near one of his huge windows overlooking the harbor. She was thinking
about Michael Segev, where he might be on the planet, and if she would need to
com him for a rescue.

She quickly nixed that thought. Segev’s rescues were way too
messy, and except for Leo being an obsessive little geek, he was not terrible
enough to warrant a nudge by Michael Segev. His nudges usually came off like a laser
hit.

By the time they sat down to dinner, it was late because Leo
had to send out to Rudy’s Deli for some GMO abalone, and they were out, so he
had to order up some from a supply ship offshore, which had to chopper it to
the roof of the Opus, fresh and on ice. The cook took way too long because he
could not get those little critters to come off their shells, and once they did,
he still had to pound them into softness. Ah, the joys of being a personal
chef.

“Do you like the abalone, Roxanne? Personally I have never
had the pink variety before, and I have to say it is rather nice, slightly
sweet, but stronger than conch. I’ve told my chef to have it for you all the
time, whenever you want it. I hope it is the same as you remember it.

“It’s wonderful. Is it wild?” Roxanne asked.

“No, this is a regen format, grown offshore in a netted part
of the bay. I’ll have it cloned for you, using one of my new methods, so we can
have it more quickly the next time.” Leo ate while reclining on an ottoman,
only because he thought it made him appear taller. Roxanne preferred a regular
table so he had one brought up from his collection of antiques on the 10
^th
floor. He thought the teak went well with her fire red hair.

 “We have them all the time at #4, Leo. I go diving for
them,” Roxanne lied. In fact, she had never even seen one before except in her
Biology
of
Extinct Species
course at University. “Where do you do your
quickie cloning?” Roxanne asked, while chewing on one piece that did not get
pounded enough.

“I have a personal lab in the basement, and my own private
hospital on the third floor, a beautification, and spa area on the second
floor, an Olympic-sized pool on the roof, and of course, my clothing department
is on the fourth floor. My staff and security occupy level five, and the
kitchen is one floor down. I hate for the food to arrive cold.” Leo had just
unwittingly told Roxanne the lay-out of his home.

“I had no idea you still did bench work. How long have you
been doing science now, five years?” Roxanne was genuinely intrigued with this bit
of news. If he had additional and better
Stem
-
wads
® formulas, she
was interested.

“Yes, for five years. Right after undergrad, I got that PhD
in MolBio; that was when I met you, in grad school.” Leo began to look wistful,
so Roxanne changed the subject.

“You’ll have to give me a tour after dinner. I really am
interested in your lab work. You know I had a sub in Mathematical Physics and
Astroscience, but I always wished I’d done the Bio sub.” Roxanne was not lying.
She’d always been intrigued by Dorian and his organo-digitals. She had no idea
how they worked, or that they were fueled by his own, metabolically produced
ATP.

“How do you manage to accelerate your cloning processes? I
mean it must take, what, a week to even re-grow a hand at the R&R,” Roxanne
continued.

“Have you been there? It is a lovely place. I will take you
there, although you obviously have no need for a regen protocol. I own a major
share of it. It is an outlet for Stemworm, Inc. But due to government regs, I
cannot use the new materials until human clinicals are complete,” Leo replied,
pouring her another glass of chilled chardonnay.

“No, I’ve only heard about the place. My rig doesn’t do
down-time there, only at bubble-stop #4, my dad’s place, and rarely at #2,
which is very boring.” Roxanne had to think fast. She’d almost slipped, letting
Leo know she’d even heard about the R&R, let alone that she’d been recently
chased by pirates through the sewer city tunnels, and had Michael Segev scramble
a hoard of tranquilizer drones to allow her escape.