Nella Hoff’s delicate floral perfume didn’t quite cover the odor of her sweat, and Genaro noted the woman’s nervous hand movements and damp temples before he addressed the chief geneticist. “What will it take to deal with this destabilization issue?”
Kirchner frowned. “We’ve explored every possible modification, sir, without success. As it is now, the transerum cannot be used on humans without serious consequences.”
“Unacceptable.” Before the geneticist could reply, he added, “Lest you forget, there are hundreds of human beings in the world who have already been successfully enhanced. The Kyndred were genetically altered and given extraordinary abilities. They still lead normal lives. None of them has gone insane.”
“That we know of,” Hoff broke in. As both men regarded her, the skin around her nose tightened, but she plowed on. “I’m sorry, Mr. Genaro, but Dr. Kirchner is right. The transerum can’t be fixed unless we re-create the original experiment. The process used to enhance them was lost along with the geneticists who created them. The records were destroyed. There are no living witnesses. Where we are now, we’re dead in the water.”
Genaro glanced at Kirchner, whose expression remained remote. “The Kyndred are alive.”
“They’re idiots,” Nella insisted. “Most of them probably still don’t even realize that they were deliberately enhanced.”
“Dr. Hoff is correct. I’ve reviewed all of the transcripts from the interrogations of the Kyndred we’ve captured alive,” Kirchner admitted. “It’s obvious that they were altered in utero or in early infancy. They have no real recollection of the experiments, only fragmented memories and nightmares from childhood. They can’t provide any useful information.”
Genaro wasn’t interested in the childhood tragedies of the Kyndred. “Then what is the next step, Dr. Kirchner?”
His geneticist began to speak, but once more Nella interrupted. “I believe I’ve discovered the solution, sir.” She lowered her voice a notch. “While Dr. Kirchner was testing the neuroblockers, I decided to take the initiative with another approach. I accessed the bioarchives, retrieved a Kyndred sample, and used it with an organic human specimen in the neurosequencer.”
“What?” Kirchner’s face darkened. “You took a sample and wasted it on a cadaver brain?”
“Only a recovered partial sample,” Nella snapped back, ire sparkling in her pretty green eyes. “We never recovered a full cell spread from the female. It was useless to us.”
Now Genaro cut off Kirchner’s furious response. “What were the results, Dr. Hoff?”
She produced a confident smile. “Introducing the Kyndred cells to the cadaver brain stabilized the serum. I recorded the simulation. If I may show you, sir?” When he inclined his head, Nella went to a terminal and pulled up a video file to play onscreen. “This is the neurosequencing of the specimen after being injected with the transerum. As you can see here”—she traced a bright yellow, branching light—“the destabilization process is well advanced. At this point I introduced DNA recovered from the female’s single tissue sample.” The web of yellow light began to shrink and in a few seconds disappeared altogether. “The specimen stabilized completely after thirty minutes, at which time the female’s DNA became dormant.”
Genaro had her run the simulation a second time before he asked, “Do you know why?”
“I have a theory about this particular female, sir,” the assistant said, all eagerness now. “It’s related to her specific enhancement. She’s the most powerful Kyndred we’ve identified to date. Her ability physically transforms both matter and energy. That makes her what I like to think of as a dominant.”
Kirchner made a disgusted sound. “First you help yourself to the bioarchives, and now you think you can categorize them?”
“With you wasting time on testing conventional inhibitors, someone had to,” Hoff replied before turning back to address Genaro. “Sir, I can provide you with a detailed analysis of my experiment. All indications are that a full cell spread from this female subject will control the destabilization process during the enhancement stage. This is the breakthrough we needed.”
“So it would seem.” Genaro studied her damp face, and wondered why such an attractive woman would choose research science as her success vehicle. Perhaps she hasn’t. “Dr. Hoff, why did you not first obtain permission from Dr. Kirchner for this experiment?”
“With all due respect, sir, Dr. Kirchner is not interested in anyone’s opinion but his own. I knew he would treat my theory with utter contempt, and refuse to allow me to run the simulation.” She folded her arms. “Conducting the experiment without his knowledge was the only way.”
Genaro nodded slowly. “Very well. Make copies of the simulation, and I want to see a complete analysis of the experiment as soon as possible, including all pertinent notes and research.”
“I’ll have it on your desk before the close of business today, sir.” Without looking at Kirchner, Nella left the lab.
Genaro waited until the doors of the air lock resealed before he spoke to his geneticist. “Your assistant is a very ambitious woman, Elliot. She wants your job, I suspect, so she can have complete access to the project materials.”
“You think she’s a spy?”
Genaro shrugged. “Has she offered you anything out of the ordinary?”
“Sex, a month after I hired her. I thought I had dealt with it.” Kirchner rubbed his forehead. “I apologize, Mr. Genaro. It won’t happen again.”
“Don’t have her terminated.” When Kirchner gave him a surprised look, he added, “She did solve the problem with the transerum. I think that in itself deserves some reward.”
Kirchner frowned. “What exactly did you have in mind, sir?”
“Once we recover the female Kyndred with the dominant DNA and use it to stabilize the transerum, we will need a fresh cadaver brain.” Genaro eyed the simulation loop still playing on the screen. “Dr. Hoff’s should serve adequately.”
Chapter 3
Taire took one last peek through the hole she’d wiped in the ice- covered windowpane, and watched Dansant lead Rowan toward the stairwell by the back storage room. She relaxed the fingers she’d knotted into tight fists, and rested her forehead against the glass. Her breath melted some of the thin frost, which slid down the window like the tears on her face.
Rowan was banged up from the accident, but not too badly. Taire had overheard everything else. She was taking the job Dansant had offered. She was staying.
It had worked.
Taire wiped her face and nose on her sleeve before she moved away, taking care to stay in the shadows. No one was on the streets now, and she was only three blocks from her place, but she wouldn’t risk being seen. Not now, when she was so close to getting some real answers.
She’s older, and she’s on her own. She lifted her cold, curled fingers to her mouth and blew on them. She has the marks. She has to know something.
An hour ago Taire had been idly watching some kids tagging a building when Rowan had stopped her bike at the traffic light. The first thing she’d spotted was the jacket tied around Rowan’s waist, which in the freezing cold made no sense. Then one of the homeboys had gone over to sweet-talk her and then tried to grab her keys, and she’d grabbed him back. When the edge of Rowan’s sleeve slid down, and the edge of a black tattoo appeared, Taire had straightened.
Then something strange had happened.
Taire couldn’t see Rowan’s face, but she got a good look at the weird blue glow that had appeared under both of her sleeves. She’d heard the tone of the boy’s voice when he’d called her some Spanish name. Cold as it was, Taire had also picked up the faintest scent of something tart and fruity and—for want of a better word—ticklish. Complex and alien, it was coming from Rowan.
She had breathed in deeply to break down the other girl’s scent into its components. It smelled of grapefruit, oak, apple, pears, and mint. Then it came back to her, that New Year’s Eve, when one young nanny had smuggled a bottle of champagne out of the wine cellar and up to the nursery to have her own private celebration. She’d let little Taire take a sip from the clear, flat-bottomed cuvée.
Rowan—a biker chick—smelled like that. Like Cristal.
Taire stopped across the street from her place and waited, turning her head to watch both sides of the street. The old hotel had been closed for several years, but the owner had hung onto the property until his death last year. Taire had found the place after reading about the owner’s heirs suing each other over rights to and disposition of the property, as the land the hotel was built on was worth millions to the city’s space-hungry real estate developers. Until the case was settled, and ownership established—something that would take years, according to the paper—the hotel would continue to stand, empty and useless, slowly decaying behind the graffiti-covered plywood nailed over its doors and windows.
It wasn’t as bad as some of the places Taire had slept. Once she’d spent a weekend hiding in the corner of a warehouse in the meat-packing district, and the stink of old blood and raw meat had made her so sick she’d puked up everything she’d tried to eat. She knew better than to try sleeping in Central Park, but she’d nodded off out of exhaustion one afternoon while sitting on a bench, only to wake up in the dark to find some old boozer groping through her jacket pockets for money.
He hadn’t even been embarrassed over getting caught. Ain’t you got nothing you can gimme, little girl?
Taire tried never to think about him, but sometimes she woke up smelling rotten breath laced with cheap wine, and seeing those bloodshot eyes bulging out as if they were going to pop out of his dirty, scabby old face.
It wasn’t my fault. I was so tired.
Once she felt sure no one was watching, Taire closed her eyes. A moment later she darted across the street and climbed through the narrow gap in the boards, pausing only to secure them again before moving toward the old reception desk.