Sims (56 page)

A long silence. Patrick had run out of steam, and Romy . . . he wished he knew what she was thinking.

Then she snuggled closer. “Thank you, Patrick. That doesn't settle things, but it helps. Helps a lot. You're a good friend.”

Good friend . . . he wished he were much more, but for now he'd settle for that. Didn't have much choice. And who knew? Maybe things wouldn't work out between Zero and her. They'd barely spoken today. Maybe Zero had other plans. But even if they both agreed on trying a relationship, they had a hell of a lot stacked against them.

He'd wait, because he knew of no other woman in the world like Romy Cadman. He'd hang around so he could be close by to catch her if she fell.

SHORT HILLS, NJ

The late-night wind cut at Luca Portero as he strode across the crowded mall parking lot toward Lister's Mercedes. A perfect meeting place. The mall was staying open late for last-minute Christmas shoppers. Luca had taken advantage of that, arriving early and picking up a bracelet for Maria. He'd wait until after the holidays to dump her—no sense in spending New Year's Eve alone.

He wondered why Lister had insisted on a face to face tonight. He guessed it wouldn't be a happy meeting. When he opened the SUV's door and saw the expression on his old CO's fleshy face, he was sure of it.

“Cold out there,” Luca said as he slipped into the passenger seat and slammed the door.

“Cold everywhere,” Lister said. He sounded tired.

Not a good start. Better cut to the chase.

“What's the word on the plan? How many men they giving us?”

Lister shook his head. “None.”

Luca felt as if he'd been slapped. “None? How are we going to—?”

“We're not.” He unbuttoned his camel hair coat. “They think using Strickland's body as bait is a waste of time. Why should anyone care about his body when his DNA fingerprint is on computer.”

“But it won't be,” Luca said. “Not after we hack the NYPD system.”

“But it's not on just the NYPD computer. If you remember, Strickland had a rap sheet that included a couple of sexual assaults—one in Nassau County and one in Rockland—and a rape in Queens that he pleaded down to simple assault. He got around. And so did his RFLP. Seems if you're caught on a sexual assault in one area, the Special Victims Units in all the surrounding areas check your DNA for a match in the unsolved cases on their books. Craig Strickland's DNA is in dozens and dozens of police computers all over the tri-state area. Even we can't hack all those databases. It's an easy bet that a sharpie lawyer like Sullivan will figure that out, and have a good laugh at us if we try to use Strickland as bait.”

Luca clenched his teeth. Damn. He should have thought of that.

“Dumb idea, Luca,” Lister said. “It had people questioning your suitability for leading a field operation. Fortunately I was able to defuse that talk with your other idea. That went over big. The Old Man sent two people from his own office to help me canvass the SimGen Natal Center staff. We've been at it all day.”

“We?” Luca said, glad he'd presented the Natal Center idea as his own.

Lister smiled. “I know I've become something of a REMF, but with manpower so short, I had to get personally involved.”

“Did anyone mention being approached?”

Lister shook his head. “Negative.”

“One of them could be lying. That sim's baby is too valuable to leave the delivery to chance. They're going to want experienced help.”

“I agree. But then I thought to myself, if I was looking for that kind of expertise, would I approach a Natal Center OB and ask him or her to jeopardize
career and benefits and pension plan and stock options
and
take a pass on a five-million-dollar bounty? I don't think so. No, if I were smart—and these people are reasonably smart—I'd go to a
former
SimGen Natal Center OB, preferably a disgruntled one. One with a grudge or a score to settle.”

Luca found himself nodding. Good thinking.

“Any hits?”

“A few of them look promising. Most have relocated but one still lives in the area. Name's Elizabeth Cannon. Her letter of resignation was a real bridge burner, calling SimGen a ‘slave factory' and its board of directors ‘morally bankrupt.' She lives on Long Island now and needs checking out. I emailed you the particulars. Finding this sim isn't just your number-one priority, Luca; it's the
only
priority.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? I hope so. This couldn't be happening at a worse time. We should be devoting all our resources to making sure Guillotine comes off letter perfect; instead, I'm not reporting two dead operatives and praying that damn monkey doesn't give birth before you find her. This has got all the makings of a major clusterfuck.”

Luca realized with a start that Lister was scared. Beneath the tough-guy pose, he was terrified. Not for his future in SIRG, but the future of SIRG itself. They were all frightened, all the way up to the Old Man.

Lister took a deep breath. “I'll be hunting down the other disgruntled OBs. Cannon's yours.” He paused. “You look tired, but I don't advise sleep. Get on this ASAP. We don't know how much time we have.”

“Roger.”

The meeting over, Luca stepped out of the SUV and watched Lister drive away.

Elizabeth Cannon . . . he'd check her out first thing in the morning. But he also wanted to check out this genomic competition that had so rattled the Sinclairs. He needed every edge he could get.

He headed for his office computer to look up some genetics.

MINEOLA, NY
DECEMBER 24

Romy watched Betsy adjust the IV running into Meerm's arm. The air seemed close in the spare, windowless little procedure room. Patrick had walked out—the sim's distress had been too much for him—leaving Romy alone with Betsy and Meerm.

Betsy looked up at her. “The contractions have subsided.”

“How long can this go on?” Romy asked, relieved the sim's pain had finally eased.

Betsy shook her head. “Not too much longer. I was right in the middle of an ultrasound when she started having contractions. I'd love to give the baby another week but Meerm's uterus won't last that long.”

“Why baby hurt Meerm?” the sim said.

“As I told you, Meerm,” Betsy said softly, “the baby's not trying to hurt you. It's just that you're too small and the baby's too large.” She turned to Romy and lowered her voice. “I tried to give her an anatomy lesson earlier. I don't know how much of it took.”

“On the new ultrasound,” Romy said, “did you see what sex it was?”

Betsy smiled. “Meerm wanted to know too. Isn't that something? I didn't think sims differentiated that much between sexes, but she was very curious. She wants a girl.”

“And?”

“Can't say. The baby's packed in too tight. If I had one of the higher resolution imagers I could tell, but not with this model. I'll do another one tomorrow. Maybe we'll get lucky.”

“Yes. It would be nice to be able to call the baby ‘he' or ‘she' instead of ‘it.' ”

“Indeed it would. Oh, by the way, Zero called to see how the night went.”

“When will he be here?”

“He won't. He thinks it's safer for all concerned if I'm the only one seen coming and going from here.”

Romy hoped her disappointment didn't show. She needed to talk to Zero—not on the phone, but face to face. Her emotions were still in wild turmoil, but she needed to know how
he
felt, and what
he
wanted. Once she knew that, she could begin to sort out her own feelings, make some decisions. She didn't know what the future held, but she was keeping all options open for now.

Then Patrick stuck his head into the little room. “I think the house is being watched.”

Romy felt her shoulders tighten. “You're sure?”

“I haven't seen men with binoculars trained on us, but someone's sitting in a car parked up the street facing this way, and he's been there for a while.”

“Show me.”

He led her to the picture window in the living room. It was midday but the low gray sky shed little light into the room. Romy reached for a lamp, then thought better of it.

“Damn,” Patrick said. “It's gone. But I tell you, it was sitting right over there for a good half hour.”

Romy scanned the street and saw a blue sedan parked against the curb at the other end.

“Was that there before?” she asked, pointing.

“No,” Patrick said. “I'm sure it wasn't. And this one's got—doesn't that look like two men inside?”

“Yes, it does,” Betsy said, coming up behind them. “I'm calling the police.”

“Is that such a good idea?” Patrick said.

Romy smiled. “I think it's a great idea. If they
knew
something, they'd have
done
something. Betsy left SimGen with a roar, so it's no surprise they're watching her. Probably watching a number of ex-Natal-Center people. But why should we let them have an easy time of it? Let's make them explain to the local constabulary what they're doing out there.”

“Here's what we've got on her,” Lowery said, unfolding his notes behind the wheel of the surveillance car.

Luca stared at Dr. Cannon's two-story colonial from the passenger seat. He'd wanted a personal look at the lay of the land, and he didn't like it one bit.

“Elizabeth Cannon, age forty-eight, never married, no kids, lives alone. In solo obstetrics-gynecology practice. Works out of a home office, on the staff of Nassau County Community Hospital.”

“Home office?” Luca said.

“Yeah. That extension on the left side there.”

“Where are her patients?”

“I called about that. Her answering service said she'd canceled her office hours from today through next week but would still be seeing her hospital patients and doing her deliveries.”

“Odd, don't you think?”

Lowery shrugged. “Hey, it's Christmas Eve. And she took Christmas week off. Do the same if I could.”

“We don't find that sim,” he told Lowery, “you'll have the longest Christmas vacation of your life.”

The scanner squawked—Lowery was tuned into the local cop frequency. Something about a fender bender on Maple Street.

“So far she's been a good little girl. Made her hospital rounds this morning, then went grocery shopping.”

“Buy a lot?” Luca asked.

“Come to think of it, yeah. Watched her load six bags in the back of her wagon—a blue Volvo, by the way.”

Luca straightened in his seat. Interesting. “Six bags for one woman living alone?”

“Like I said, it's Christmas. Maybe she's planning a big family dinner.”

“Read your own notes—she's
got
no family.”

The more Luca thought about Dr. Elizabeth Cannon, the more he liked her as a real possibility. A loner with tons of experience delivering sims, she'd
probably jump at the chance to shut down a place she thought of as a “slave factory.” Now here she was, stocking up on groceries—enough to feed a sim and the missing Cadman and Sullivan perhaps? Plus she had a home office, the perfect place to deliver a sim. Was that why she'd canceled her office hours? Wouldn't do to have one of her patients spot a pregnant sim, would it.

He felt some of his fatigue lifting.

“All right,” Lowery said, “let's just say this sim is in there. How—?”

“She
is
in there,” Luca said. “I feel it in my gut.”

“Okay. I'll go with that, because my gut's giving me the same message, but does your gut have any idea how we get her the fuck out of there? Look at this neighborhood, will you? It's
Leave It To Beaver
-ville. There's no room to operate.”

Luca had already noticed that. Neat, middle-size houses, most sporting Christmas decorations, nestled side by side and back to back on quarter-acre lots, with wide streets that nobody parked on. Sitting here like this, their car looked as alien as a flying saucer. Only a matter of time before—

Another squawk on the scanner, this one about a suspicious car parked on Cavendish Drive.

“Shit!” Lowery said. “That's us.”

Luca slapped the dashboard. “Move. I don't want any local heat seeing our faces.”

“So what do we do?” Lowery said as he put the car in gear.

“A raid. Oh-four-hundred tomorrow morning.”

“Are you kidding? On Christmas?”

“Can you think of a time it'll be less expected? Six of us hit the place front and back wearing FBI jackets and full assault gear. If we find the sim we secure her, terminate everyone else, and take off. If we don't find her, we apologize for raiding the wrong address, and disappear.”

“FBI?”

“Hey, it's not like they never raid private homes and it's not like they've never fucked up before either. Everybody still remembers Waco. It'll take days, maybe weeks, before the feds convince the public they weren't involved.”

Lowery grinned. “And by then we'll be long gone. I like it.”

“It's win-win,” Luca said. “If I'm right, we'll have the sim. If I'm wrong, no more wasting time watching Cannon.”

But I'm
not
wrong, he told himself. That sim's in there. I can smell her.

SUFFOLK COUNTY , NY

“Even though it's only Christmas Eve, we'll call this our Christmas dinner,” Zero said as he opened the lids of the pizza boxes on his dining room table. “Because who knows where we'll be tomorrow? No turkey for our sim Christmas, I'm afraid. Just two large pies—a plain and a sausage.” He glanced at his two guests. “Do either of you know what Christmas means, by the way?”

Kek didn't even look up; he'd been lured away from one of the computers where he'd been engrossed in
Mortal Kombat XX
, and now he grabbed a slice of the sausage pie and started wolfing it down.