Separation (13 page)

The guard smirked and gestured to her with
his gun. They went outside and upstairs to a small room, where
Allenby sat on an overstuffed couch with a small table in front of
him. He wore an elegantly tailored gray silk suit with a napkin
tucked into his collar. A full-course meal, one of steak and
various kinds of fowl, sat in front of him, and he quickly though
delicately ate, making sounds of delight. All the while, he took no
notice of anyone.

Harry waited, attempting to keep his disgust
down to a minimum. This jerk fancied himself as a king and treated
everyone else as his personal slaves. Anastasia’s face wore a look
of supreme loathing,

Finally, once done, Allenby patted his mouth
with the napkin, placed it on the remaining plate, and ordered his
servant to clear the table. The mutant, a four-limbed zebra type,
did so without a word.

Allenby then dismissed him and reached for a
glass of red wine. He sipped his own serving at leisure before
waving his hand at two chairs, and said in a most courteous tone,
“That was a most delightful meal. I’m happy you could make it.
Please, sit down.”

He then turned to the cockroach guards, who’d
been silent all this time, and his display of courtesy disappeared,
overridden by an authoritative air. “Go outside. Guard the place.
There may be others.”

The guards nodded and left. Allenby finished
off his glass and poured himself another. “I don’t suppose you’d
like a drink?”

“No.” Anastasia’s voice cut the air like a
knife. “What do you want with us?”

After he quaffed another glass, Allenby’s
good humor returned and he chuckled. “I don’t really want you. I
was after your friend, the little pig. And now I have him. He’s in
another room at the back.”

How thoughtful of him to tell us where he is,
Harry thought. “Where are we?”

“Ah, the standard first question,” replied
their host. “Before I answer you, did you like my representative
showing up at your place?”

“If you mean the souped-up warthog,” Harry
answered, “the answer is no.”

His comment earned him a shrug. “It was
merely a way of testing your fighting skills. I have to tell you, I
could have sent more, but decided not to.”

So he knows all about us.
“You didn’t
answer my question.” Harry might not have been in a position to
demand anything, but felt he deserved to know, and was rewarded
with a nod.

“All right, I’ll tell you. Where we are is a
small house on the outskirts of Lyon. It’s a place I purchased a
number of years ago and kept as a vacation spot, just in case I
needed to take a break from the rat race. I need to use it now, so
here we are.”

“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell us
ASR’s plan,” Anastasia said.

A faint chuckle greeted her statement. “I
don’t see why not.” Allenby leaned forward as his did so, eyes
bright. “But before I get into specifics, let me ask you a
question. Why does the process in hybrids break down so
quickly?”

Right away, he’d started in on the
business-academic angle. It was a complex question, one that Harry
had managed to resolve partially, but he had no intention of giving
this scumbag the solution or even part of one.

He did, however, give him some information.
“The animal genes are stronger and usually overwhelm those of the
human genes. It’s something a Russian scientist told me a long time
ago and...” he hesitated, “it’s something I figured out
myself.”

A wintry smile lit up Allenby’s face. “Ah,
you mean Nurmelev, don’t you? Or perhaps you mean Kulakov or
Grushenko?”

There was no way Harry could keep the
surprise out of his voice. “You knew them?”

This time, a harsh laugh rang from the man’s
mouth. “I did business with them. I helped fund their programs, in
part. Their other funds came from Russian backers. I wanted the
research just as much as they did, for my own reasons.”

With the thought of doing a significant
amount of damage to this traitor, Harry started to get off the
couch, but in a smooth and very quick motion, Allenby produced a
pistol from his suit pocket. “You’re fast,” he said, “but you can’t
outrun a bullet.”

“You won’t shoot me.”

Another harsh laugh rang echoed around the
room. “Let me show you what I’m capable of.”

He snapped his fingers, and one of his
minions appeared, hovering at his elbow. “Yes, master, what is
it?”

Without hesitation, Allenby turned around and
shot him between the eyes. He never even so much as blinked. The
man, more insect than man, fell without a sound. Harry stared,
unable to believe the cold-bloodedness. “You’re sick,” he finally
managed to say.

“No, I’m determined. Sit down. I’ll
explain.”

Harry sat and listened, wondering if he’d
ever get the chance to take out this scumbag. His host, though, had
a gun, and outside of the cockroach men, no telling how many other
guards were on duty. Allenby had already shown a willingness to
kill, and his trained subordinates seemed no less bloodthirsty.

“ASR, my company, was originally founded to
produce medicine to combat diseases,” Allenby began in a very calm
and reasonable manner. “We had the idea, as your father and you
did, about using animal genes in combination with human genes to
knock out cancer and leukemia. Our research was progressing well,
and we’d worked with the FBI as well as a number of other private
companies. During that time, yes, I’d heard about your father’s
work in transgenics, Harry. I may call you that, yes?”

Truthfully, the answer was no, but Harry
decided to let it pass, as another thought entered. That thought
was of his father—it always came back to his father—and he’d been
innocent. “My father only did fruits and vegetables.”

“So he did,” Allenby grunted. “But his work
gave me and others like me the idea that the concept of transposing
genes from animals to humans could be viable. In fact, he had done
some research, but had stopped for,” he scratched his chin,
“ethical reasons.”

Ethical, as in doing the right thing, Harry
thought. He said nothing, though, wondering where all of this was
going.

“Since your father wasn’t the type to take
the next step, I had to seek outside sources,” Allenby continued.
“I contacted the Russians. They had ideas, and of all the
scientists, Nurmelev was the most open to sharing, particularly the
concept of using transformation chambers to hasten the process.

“Then, unbeknownst to me, he decided to
implement his own plan, and the chain of events began, culminating
in the creation of your wife, among other transgenics. Your young
lady ended up in New York, and after Nurmelev died, the FBI
cancelled our deal.”

He continued to relate the story. It was as
fascinating as it was repellent. ASR lost its contracts and ties to
the government, but still had sufficient funds with which to
continue its research. It made deals with Grushenko and Kulakov.
“We had the money, they had the technology, and we traded. It
wasn’t a hard choice to make.”

“You sold out your country.”

Harry’s words rang with bitterness, and while
it did sound self-righteous, it happened to be the truth. Allenby’s
face lost its smile. “I did what I did in the name of
advancement—
mine,
” he stated, thrusting his face forward.
“We were an up-and-coming name in our field. I could have become
the leading industrialist in the field of medicine. Not only that,
our discoveries could have revolutionized modern medicine. We could
have cured diseases, every disease out there the other large
pharmaceutical companies weren’t and aren’t willing to do anything
about.”

Allenby continued to grouse about how red
tape had held him back. “The barriers the governments put up, the
limits they allow a person to go—they took that all away. Instead
of being a leader, my company, one which I’d founded and nurtured,
was relegated to nothingness. You can hardly blame me.”

Fanatic—this man was a true fanatic, but
before Harry could get a word in, his wife beat him to it. “You’re
slime,” she declared, her eyes flashing hate and the promise of
violence. “You created monsters to kill others.”

“I created—period,” Allenby shot back. “You
have no idea of what I’ve sacrificed over the years. I sank
everything I had into my company. I studied and went days without
sleep and food when in university. I’m also a trained
bio-geneticist and DNA researcher. I created, and then freaks like
you decided to get noble and destroy the research. I’ve got nothing
in common with you, but I’m going to use you and your kind to get
what I want.”

He stabbed a thick forefinger in their
direction, but what got Harry most was the gleam of insanity in
this man’s eyes. That, and the fact he hated all transgenics. This
man was true slime.

Allenby continued to rant. “I’m creating now.
The chambers we use have been modified. They aren’t used to create
hybrids, but clones. Some are used for research, but others, once
the process is perfected, will be used—”

“To replace others,” Harry interrupted.

Allenby sat back, nodding. “Clever, you
are
clever. Yes, that’s my plan. I’ll create clones, those
that can be bred and controlled. They can be used for any purpose,”
he stated with certainty.

In order to make sure of what he was getting
at, Harry asked, “You’re talking about medicinal usage, aren’t
you?”

A sharp bark greeted his question. “Your
vision is way too small. Think of it, a pitcher hurts the tendon in
his throwing arm or a football player damages the patella in his
knee. We use the clone as a type of source from which to harvest.
If the player is hurt too badly, then the clone will take his
place. Soldiers are injured on the battlefield every day, and it
isn’t too much of a stretch to harvest organs from their doubles in
order to help them heal faster or even use the clones as
soldiers.

“But that’s only a start. Imagine someone you
do business with who won’t see things your way—”

“And you replace him,” Harry interrupted,
fairly seething now as he got the big picture. “You really think
you can get away with it?”

A self-satisfied smirk lined Allenby’s round
face. “I’m already getting away with it, but to bring my plan to
fruition, I need your little pig friend. You see, using human stem
cells can only go so far. The experiments I initially used involved
stem cells, but the clones died within a few hours.

“I then hit upon the idea of using stem cells
combined with animal genes, transgenic clones, if you will. There
were many failures at first, but eventually we got the idea.”

Allenby tossed off the concept of many
failures without any note of regret in his voice. Harry wondered
how many failures there had been and then decided not to think
about it.

His host snapped his fingers. “Don’t zone out
on me. I’m not finished yet, and you have to hear the whole story.
This involves genius, my genius, and it will involve your knowledge
as well.”

Talk about having a God complex.
“I
didn’t know you were a genius... if you failed so often.”

A look, something between anger and regret,
flashed across Allenby’s face. “I doubt any great thinker was right
all the time. You have to fail in order to succeed, and even you’ve
failed, haven’t you?”

He had a point. Allenby gave a hmmphing sound
as if to say
you know I’m right
and settled back. “So now we
have transgenic clones. This program works.” His voice took on
greater passion. “It works, and the clones I make do live. Since my
initial test-runs, I’ve managed to induce a somewhat longer
lifespan, but it’s still severely limited, only a few months at
best. As you said, the animal genes overwhelm the human ones, but
in the case of the clones, they cause multiple organ failure. The
pig’s blood will counteract that. We learned that much from
spies.”

So they knew. At least, they knew a little,
but they didn’t know everything. Harry had zero intention of
telling him that Istvan’s blood wouldn’t solve the problem. “So if
you don’t need us, why don’t you kill us now?”

Allenby offered a lazy shrug along with an
even lazier smile. “I don’t need the young lady, but I do need you.
Outside of myself, there’s no one else who’s as brilliant. You have
genius, and I need that genius. I have a well-equipped lab and have
spared no expense to help you to help me.”

Psychotic doesn’t even begin to describe
this nut...
“Dream on.”

Allenby’s face lost its look of happiness. In
place was an expression of pure ambition coupled with an even purer
evil. “You’re forgetting one thing. Not only are you a prisoner,
you’re also a hostage. The young cat-lady with you is also a
hostage, and...”

His voice trailed off when Anastasia doubled
over and puked out some yellowish bile on the floor. “What’s wrong
with her?”

“Motion sickness,” Harry said, offering what
had to be the stupidest excuse in the history of stupid excuses. It
didn’t fool Allenby for a moment.

“Considering we’re not moving,” he said,
moving off the couch to cover them with his pistol, “I’m going to
choose to disbelieve you.” His eyes narrowed. “You two are
married... I remember hearing about that. And if you’re
married...”

The wary look vanished and a look of
understanding replaced it. In a casual, almost careless motion, he
swung the pistol in the direction of Anastasia’s head and then
brought the barrel down to aim straight at her torso. She
instinctively put a hand to her stomach. “I wonder what the baby
will look like. Given the genetic animal codes you both carry,
probably another aberration.”

With a sense of utter horror, Harry knew this
thing wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. Allenby’s finger twitched when
Anastasia said, “The only aberration here is you. Our child will be
decent.”