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Louisville, Kentucky
Center for Infectious Diseases
Dr. Helmsby placed the petri dish into the storage rack, removed his rubber gloves, and straightened his glasses. He jotted some notes into his journal.
He was happy to offer his genetics knowledge and research to the CID in their current attempt to find a new drug to combat the ever-evolving strains of influenza. But that wasn’t the only reason he had accepted the job.
The high security clearance allowed him to feel a bit safer from Grayson’s reach. Although Grayson had never directly threatened him, Helmsby believed Grayson was one to retaliate. Resigning from the lucrative offer Grayson had given was probably considered a snub, or at least, that’s what Helmsby believed.
In normal circumstances Helmsby would have done extensive research on the alien DNA gratis. Such an opportunity yielded a wealth of scientific discovery that, even now, he regretted leaving. But situations with Grayson weren’t normal. They were strained by intimidation and Grayson’s power and wealth. Helmsby never felt comfortable around the tycoon. Grayson was as dangerous—if not more—than Idris had been. Helmsby couldn’t look at Grayson without being reminded of Idris and those memories shook him to the core.
The more reports Helmsby read on Grayson’s work projects, the better he understood how few people liked Grayson’s ethics when it came to establishing his place in the scientific world. He was a volatile conceited man who wished to have the world view him as a celebrity, even though he was a proficient scientist and entrepreneur. Regardless of how he tried to convey himself, Grayson never got the public to meet him eye-to-eye.
Fewer people liked Grayson because his greed superseded his passion. Some hated him because of his ever-growing name and media exposure. Establishing human colonization projects on Mars should have brought raves from the majority of people on Earth, but with Grayson’s name tied to the projects most viewed them tarnished since the public was soured to hear anything associated with Grayson Enterprises.
Helmsby closed the journal and almost jumped when he turned to find Yvonne standing behind him. She wore her security guard uniform and smiled. He marveled at how she moved stealthily and closed in behind him without making a sound.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”
“Oh, it’s okay.” Helmsby shook his head and chuckled. “My mind was somewhere else. I didn’t even hear you come in. Making your rounds?”
Yvonne nodded. “Actually, I was sent to discuss something with you.”
“What?”
“The security chief received a phone call earlier from a Bennie Dunlap with the FBI.”
“The FBI?” Helmsby said, loosening his shirt collar.
“Yes. Seems they’re trying to find you. He wanted to know if you’d call him back. He didn’t tell him that you’re working since you are under the radar here.”
Helmsby removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “What do you think I should do?”
“You should probably call him back. It’s highly unlikely Grayson would have spies within the FBI. Too many of them despise him.”
“I know,” Helmsby said. “But Idris had people in high places, too.”
“True, but Grayson isn’t Idris. He’s more interested in money than revenge.”
“I don’t know. He was ready to kill Steven Matthews. I imagine he could have done it with his bare hands.”
Yvonne smiled. “But Matthews double-crossed him. You didn’t. You changed your mind. Everyone’s entitled to do that, regardless of the situation.”
“I feel like I may have double-crossed him, too. That contract was very binding. I’m surprised that he let me walk away.”
“Bob, let go of your paranoia. You’re only working on an unnecessary stomach ulcer. Grayson admires you a great deal. He was straightforward about that. You want to know why I believe he will never harm you?”
Helmsby frowned. “Why?”
“Because deep inside he hopes you’ll reconsider and come back to Grayson Enterprises to work for him.” She placed her hand over his heart. “And I’ll bet deep in here, you really would like to go back to research the alien DNA. Am I right?”
Helmsby looked away, but he couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face. “You’re right. I’d leap at the chance to analyze that DNA, but knowing what all Grayson does and what he stands for, I cannot sacrifice my morals.”
“Good. You’re every bit the man I believed you to be when we married.” She handed him a small slip of paper. “Here’s Bennie’s phone number. Think it over, and if it feels right, call him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get to my rounds.”
Yvonne gently kissed him on the lips and headed out the door. Helmsby stared at the number and his brow furrowed with worry. Regardless of what Yvonne believed, he didn’t know if she was right or not. What if Grayson wanted him dead?
***
Daniel sat at his desk. His cellphone ringtone played. He looked at the number, didn’t recognize it, but his curiosity convinced him to answer.
“Dan?”
“Helmsby?” Daniel asked. “Did you come out of hiding?”
“Not yet,” Helmsby replied with a chuckle.
“Where are you?”
“Ah, Dan, I’d rather not say right now.”
“Why not? Is there a problem?”
“I’m not certain.”
Daniel shook his head. “Seems a lot of people are trying to find you.”
“Really?” Helmsby asked in a near whisper. “Who?”
“Kyle relayed a message to Morton about Lucian dying.”
“Dying? So his body is shutting down?”
“I think that’s probably it.”
“Why would he want my help?”
Daniel replied, “They hope you can reverse his condition.”
“Sadly, Dan, there’s nothing I could do to help him. The enhancers are his only life source. Once his body rejects those or they fail to work, I’m afraid there’s nothing more we can do.”
“That’s sad to hear,” Daniel said.
“Who else has called for me?” Helmsby asked.
“A man with the FBI named Bennie Dunlap.”
“He called here a little while ago. Do you have any idea what he wants?”
“You haven’t talked to him?” Daniel asked.
“Not yet. I didn’t know if he’s legit or not. What did you think about him when you talked to him?”
“He seems like a decent person.”
“What did he want?”
“He wants to talk to you about what research Grayson had you doing.”
“Why?” Helmsby asked.
“He didn’t elaborate anything more than that. Why don’t you talk to him and find out.”
“Are you certain he’s actually with the FBI?” Helmsby asked.
“I believe so. He mentioned Carpenter.”
“I don’t know that I should call him.”
“Why not?”
“Because what I worked on for Grayson was top secret. Grayson forbade me from telling anyone. I signed a contract agreeing to uphold the confidentiality. And if I tell anyone, especially someone within the FBI and Grayson finds out, my life will definitely be in danger. Yours, too.”
“Mr. Dunlap sounded like a quite harmless, elderly gentleman,” Daniel said.
“Sounded and being are two different things, Dan. Don’t forget how we were deceived at my research center by two imposter clones.”
“I know. I understand your paranoia.”
“It’s not paranoia.”
Daniel shook his head, trying to remain patient. “Look, he’s already called where you work, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then he knows where you are, so I would go ahead and call him if I were you. Otherwise, he’ll probably show up where you work.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“Good to hear from you, Helmsby. I’ll relay the message to Morton that there’s nothing you know that will improve Lucian’s condition should Kyle contact him again.”
“Okay. Thanks, Dan.”
“But do us all a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“Brainstorm for awhile and see if you can think of something. I know you love exploring genetics possibilities.”
“I’ll give it some thought after I call Mr. Dunlap. Should I discover anything that might add longevity to Lucian’s life, I’ll call you back.”
“Thanks,” Daniel said, ending the call.
Morton sat on the desk, staring at Daniel. “Well?”
Daniel shook his head. “Sorry, but he doesn’t think there’s anything that can be done.”
Morton released a small sigh. “I’ll tell Kyle.”
“Sorry,” Daniel said.
“Death comes for us all. Some sooner than others.”
Morton hopped off the desk and strolled out of the office.
***
Davis parked the white van in the rear parking lot of the apartment building. Lydia slid open the side door and climbed out. She tucked her 9mm behind her back and crossed the parking lot, heading for the rear lobby door.
Davis opened the left rear door of the van. Two men hurried out and followed him down the side of the building to a lowered fire escape ladder. They climbed to the second floor.
Lydia gave a solemn stare at the woman behind the desk before she headed through the stairwell door. She took the steps and pulled her gun. At the second floor door, she eased it open and peered into the hallway. Approaching from the other end of the hall was Davis and his men.
She moved down the hall where they had stopped.
Room 212.
“In there?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
Lydia clicked off the safety. Taking a step back from the door, she kicked right beneath the doorknob. The wood split and the door caved inward. She rushed through the door with her gun raised.
Matthews turned in surprise, reached for his gun on the desk, but before he got it, she fired. The bullet struck his gun and spiraled it off the edge of the desk. She was across the room in seconds and pressed her gun to his neck, backing him to the wall.
Beth screamed and ran for the hallway. Davis grabbed her arm and twisted, dragging her down to the floor.
“You son of a bitch! Let her go!” Eric yelled, rushing from the bathroom and heading for Davis with his fists raised.
One of the men behind Davis fired and struck Eric in the chest with several rounds. Eric’s eyes widened. He clutched his chest and looked at the blood leaking through his fingers. He sank to his knees and fell forward.
Dead.
Beth sobbed, watching his body grow still.
“We’ve not done anything wrong,” Beth said. “You didn’t have to kill him. They offered us money if we allowed them to do drug experiments on us.”
“You should be more careful whom you take money from,” he said, pressing his knee into her back.
Davis took handcuffs from his back pocket and cuffed her hands behind her back. Tears flowed down her face into the thick carpet. He motioned his two gunmen to seat her against the wall.
In the other room, Lydia stared into Matthews’ eyes and pressed the gun harder to his neck.
His jaw tightened.
“Do it,” Matthews whispered. “Pull the trigger. Kill me.”
Lydia smiled. “You don’t get off that easy.”
His eyes widened when he met her harsh gaze.
Lydia lowered the gun and backhanded him in the face with the butt of the weapon. He cried out and fell to the floor, holding his face.
“Dammit, Lydia! Do you realize how much plastic surgery costs? Hmm? Perhaps you and I can come to some sort of financial agreement?”
Lydia ignored his offer. She swung a hard kick into his gut that lifted him off the floor and flipped him over onto his back.
Panting and wincing in pain, he stared up at her. A large red mark spread across his cheek where she had struck him. Blood leaked from one tear where one of the surgery incisions had almost healed. “I get that you’re angry. You hate me. What I did was unethical. I realize that now. But, I was foolish in what I attempted, but let’s let bygones be bygones, huh? No one needs to die.”
“Oh, you’re going to die,” she said, looking down at him. “But it will be very slowly.”
Matthews shook his head and laughed. “A woman clone scorned.”
Lydia gritted her teeth and kicked his ribs hard. His ribs snapped with an unpleasant sound.
He cried out in pain, and rolled over to his stomach and tightened his arms to his sides to protect his midsection. He coughed and blood trickled from the side of his mouth.
Matthews wheezed to breathe. “How did you find me?”
“Grayson.”
“That arrogant bastard sent you? Typical that he always makes others do his dirty work for him. How much is he paying you? I’ll double it.”
Lydia shook her head. “No, I was coming for you anyway. I would have found you. He just made my search shorter by pinpointing your location.”
She placed her gun on the desk, grabbed Matthew’s shirt collar, and yanked him to his feet. Placing her right hand around his throat, she pressed him to the wall and lifted him about a foot off the floor. Her eyes narrowed and her fingers squeezed tighter.
“Today, you die,” she whispered.
Matthews’ face reddened. His eyes bulged. Choking gasps struggled to get past her tightening grip.
She squeezed even tighter from all the anger growing inside her. Veins swelled on Matthews’ forehead and neck. He tried in vain to pry her fingers loose with both hands, but he couldn’t wrest free.
“What the hell?” Davis yelled from the hallway. “He should be dead.”
Lydia glanced over her shoulder and saw Davis and the two gunmen scramble backwards out into the hall. Davis pulled his gun and fired several rounds into Eric as he stepped past Beth. Each shot jolted Eric for a moment, but he kept moving forward.
Two gunshots echoed from the other side of the room.
Lydia turned and saw Mordia shoot the two guards behind Davis. The two gunmen took headshots and dropped to the floor, dead.
Lydia lowered Matthews. He collapsed on the floor. Lydia sprinted toward Mordia.
Mordia swung around to shoot Lydia, but Lydia moved faster than Mordia had expected. Lydia lunged low, catching Mordia around the waist and picked her up. She flung Mordia over the couch.
Mordia landed on the glass-top coffee table. Glass exploded into tiny shards and rained down on the carpet and couch.
Mordia grunted when her back struck the bottom of the table. She rolled to her side and didn’t move.
Eric continued walking toward Davis. Davis stopped shooting because the bullets had no effect.
Davis turned and stepped over the dead gunmen. He hurried for the outside hallway while Lydia turned her attention from Mordia to Matthews.
Matthews scooted backwards across the floor. His face was crimson. Blood streamed from the gaping face wound. Gasping for air, he took deep breaths and was trying to put some distance between himself and Lydia. He tried to speak but only a hoarse sound came from his mouth.
Lydia grinned a sadistic smile. She took slow steps towards Matthews, enjoying the look of terror in his eyes.
Matthews put his hands out before him in surrender.
“Pleading for mercy?”
He offered a weak shrug.
“Not today.” She stood over him.
Lydia grabbed her gun off the desk, loaded a round into the chamber, and aimed at Matthews’ forehead. He closed his eyes tightly, still holding his hands up in surrender.
In her rage, she was ready to pull the trigger, but the whispering in her ears stopped her.
Lucas?
“Don’t, Lydia. Don’t become what he is.”
Her finger loosened on the trigger.
“How?” she whispered.
“I’ve been searching for you,” Lucas replied.
Lydia shook her head, trying to sort through this strange hallucination, but she remembered when she was unconscious that Lucas had found her before. Joe had told her how to whisper into the wind, but this didn’t seem the same. Lucas sounded weak, hurt.
“Where are you?” she said quietly.
“Hospital. Coma.”
The words shot through her. Remorse for not going with him to help Joe weighed upon her.
For a few moments, Lydia forgot where she was. The sound of crunching glass should have alerted her, but she didn’t hear it. Matthews moved, and she looked down at him. She drove the sound of Lucas’ voice from her mind, allowing her anger and rage to quash her remorse. She held the gun with both hands and aimed at Matthews again.
Before she pulled the trigger, she glimpsed movement from the corner of her eye. She turned. Mordia stabbed Lydia in the back with a needle and pushed the stopper.
“You damn bitch!” Lydia seethed.
Lydia slapped Mordia across the face with the gun. Her neck twisted with a sharp crack and the impact slung Mordia around. She dropped to the floor. Her body was limp.
Lydia faced Matthews again. Her vision blurred. The room spun. She gripped the edge of the desk.
Matthews backed into the corner and using the wall for support, he forced himself to his feet.
Lydia staggered. Her knees buckled. Instead of allowing herself to drop to the floor, she fell forward onto the desk. She held the gun, tried to aim it, but her fingers numbed. Even with all her focus on trying to make her fingers tighten, squeezing the trigger was impossible. The gun loosened in her grip and slid onto the desk. Her eyes closed.
***
Matthews took a couple of steps toward the desk. He placed his hand on Lydia’s gun and picked it up. He took two deep breaths and exhaled through his mouth. After wiping his face with a handkerchief, he pulled away the white cloth and noticed a thick crimson line of blood. He was bleeding badly.
He walked over to Mordia and knelt beside her. Checking for a pulse, he found none.
“Dammit,” he whispered.
Matthews staggered to a large mirror on the wall and looked at his face. A long flap of skin along his cheek resembled flesh of a fileted fish. Detached, it hung loose. Blood oozed.
With Mordia dead, he wondered how he’d get his face repaired.
Anger washed through him. He gritted his teeth and stared at Lydia. He marched to her unconscious form. He wanted to shoot her, to kill her, but she deserved a worse punishment than death. He almost smiled, but the pain stopped him. He could use Lydia for his original plan to make clones from her and use them for assassins. She’d be trapped forever. Not dead, but she’d never be a threat to him again.
With the barrel of her handgun, he flipped her blonde hair from the side of her face and smiled. When her face wasn’t controlled by anger, she was very attractive. He leaned down to whisper his triumph in her ear.
An instant later, he was struck from behind. Pain reeled through his head. He dropped the gun and turned to see Jimmy holding a tall brass lampstand. He swung again.
Matthews dropped to the floor, writhing in pain, holding his face with both hands.
Matthews was losing consciousness.
Jimmy stared down at him with a broad smile. “You damn asshole. How did you like that?”
***
In the outer hallway Davis emptied his clip into Eric, but the man continued to pursue. The bullet wounds didn’t bleed. The man didn’t seem to have any blood and was somehow still alive. The woman he had handcuffed mentioned drug experimentation, but surely, this wasn’t what Matthews had done. Then again, perhaps it was.
Thinking back, he remembered Matthews’ attempt to overtake Grayson Enterprises with his undead corpses, but why would he use the same serum on living humans? What was he attempting to achieve? Grayson needed to know.
The gunshots only angered Eric. His eyes were strangely alert but held a strange red around the pupils. Apparently Eric’s drive came from a vindictive need to get even for Davis’ attacks.
Davis holstered his gun. He decided the best thing he could do was fight the man since Eric didn’t possess a weapon.
Davis swung a hard right into Eric’s jaw, knocking Eric back a couple of steps but it didn’t deter him. At first glance, Davis assumed Eric’s frail-looking body and stature would make this a quick, easy match to win. He found out differently.
Eric came at Davis. Davis punched him over and over. The man didn’t stop coming. He expressed no pain. The blows went unnoticed.
Davis swung again. Eric caught his fist with one hand and then grabbed Davis’ shirt with the other. He hoisted Davis into the air and threw him toward the open apartment door. Davis rolled when he landed and rushed into the apartment.
He grabbed a gun from one of the dead gunmen, crouched low, and waited.
Eric stepped around the doorway. His eyes searched for Davis.
Davis fired two rounds through Eric’s right knee, which severed his leg in half. Eric tumbled forward and immediately pulled himself across the floor, still determined to reach Davis.
Davis took both sets of handcuffs from his dead partners and dove on Eric’s back. He yanked back Eric’s arms and cuffed his wrists together. Although the arms were secure, he wasn’t certain being restrained would hold him down long. Eric continued rolling side-to-side, trying to find a way to right himself.
Davis got up and headed to the desk. Jimmy stood over Matthews’ body and slowly set the lamp on the floor when he noticed Davis.
“He’s out cold,” Jimmy said.
“What happened to Lydia?” Davis asked.
“Mordia sedated her.”
Davis shook his head. He took Zip-tie handcuffs and restrained Matthews’ wrists.
“Check on Mordia,” Davis said.
“She’s dead.”
“One less problem for us then.”
Jimmy shook Lydia, trying to wake her. Her body was limp, lifeless. “She’ll be out for a while.”
“Get her on the couch.”
“You’re leaving her?”
Davis shrugged. “No, but with all the gunfire, the police will be here soon. Matthews is the one we wanted. Lydia beat his ass pretty badly. Not sure how we can get them out of here quickly and unnoticed.”
“I can carry her over my shoulder,” Jimmy said.
Davis looked at Matthews.
“I don’t know if I could carry him all the way back to the van.”
“We could use the elevator.”
“Still have to get them through the lobby. Two unconscious people will arouse immediate attention.”
Jimmy bent over Lydia, wrapped his arms around her thighs, and propped her over his shoulder. After a few moments of adjusting her weight, he stepped cautiously to the desk and grabbed his laptop briefcase.
Davis gave Jimmy an odd stare.
“I’ll take her as far as I can. Perhaps we go through the first floor hallway to avoid the police when they arrive.”
Sirens wailed outside the building.
Davis shrugged. “Sounds like we have nothing else we can do.”