In Irina's Cards (The Variant Conspiracy #1) (9 page)

I re-focused, reminding myself that the only way to prevent any future danger was to figure out who or what that shadow was and stop it, permanently. Finding Ilya could lead to that shadow. Maybe that was destined to happen–I was meant to rescue this man and he’d help me save my parents. I wanted Ivan to come back to tell me more about his injections and about Ilya, regardless of how personal he found my questions.

I had a right to know what sort of person Ilya was, how he had gone missing and what made him so important to Innoviro, apart from being the son of the boss. It was just my intuition, but I believed Ivan wanted Ilya home for more than his own personal piece of mind. It didn’t feel appropriate to call Ivan again without a real reason. I’d already consented to the injections. Getting the other details had to be done casually and with subtlety, two conversational strategies that had never come easily to me.

The silence in the office deepened and I heard the front wall clock ticking and the white noise of my computer’s motors. The clock on my screen read “2:56 PM” in the bottom right corner. This would be the only opportunity for me in the remotely near future to go downstairs alone. I stood almost no chance of finding any files on the office computer network, but downstairs held the promise of learning something useful–about Ilya, or my injections, or even a better hint at what Innoviro did beyond ‘testing’ and ‘research’.

I’d caught a glimpse of the security camera feed on Ivan’s monitor once by accident. He must have known I’d seen it, but hadn’t reacted with alarm. So security was a precaution, something he’d only review if something went missing or if there were some curious incident. If I went downstairs, I’d have to leave no trace to motivate a review of security footage. I slung my purse on my shoulder. If anyone came in, it would look as though I’d left for the day too. Truancy was preferable to breaching a secure area. Especially with everyone else already AWOL for the weekend.

I walked out to the front room, looking for signs of life. I locked the front door’s deadbolt. As I walked toward the elevator, I called “Hello?” ahead of me, more to set my mind at ease than because I expected a reply. I opened the steel door, entered the foyer, and pressed the down arrow button to call the elevator. I heard no noise, but in less than a minute, the brushed stainless doors slid open revealing the innocuous compartment with its one bland flower painting. I stepped inside and concentrated on staying calm as I waited for the door to close.

My focus paid off and through my closed eyelids I saw one of Tatiana’s matte rose acrylic nails pushing a sequence of buttons. I pulled back with mind and body to find myself still standing in front of the elevator panel. I duplicated the code she pressed and the floor jarred slightly as I felt the downward lurch in my stomach. Only a few beats later, the door slid open again and I placed my hand on the gap in the wall to keep it ajar.

“Hello?” I called out again, and as expected, I heard no reply. My heard thudded audibly in my chest accompanied by a ringing in my ears. If I suddenly met anyone, what should I say? I’d been at Innoviro too long to play dumb. I was looking for someone–Cole? Jonah? But why?

I’d never come looking for either of them. I stood frozen in the elevator, wanting an excuse ready before I stepped out, but nothing came and time passed. I had to act or go back. I put one foot in front of the other until I had my hand on the door Tatiana had reached for as I passed her on the way to B109. The door had a line of numbered buttons below the knob. I concentrated and again saw that acrylic fingernail punch in another code.

I copied Tatiana again. The door opened and I slipped in immediately. I positioned the door a hair from closed. I wanted to hear the bell of the elevator door, but leave the hallway as inconspicuous as possible to a quick glance. Skimming the room quickly, I saw a wall of refrigerated glass doors. The vials and sample jars were too numerous to count. A row of plain white cupboard doors and a stainless steel counter on the other side of the room revealed even less. I had to concentrate and think fast.

And then I noticed the filing cabinet at the back of the room. An unassuming grey tower of simple metal drawers looked like the exact right spot for files on patients–or subjects. Each of the drawers had a label: A–E, F–J, and so on through the alphabet. I opened the drawer for P–T and sure enough, “Proffer, Irina” stared up at me in black felt on the tab of one manila file. I pulled it out of the hanging folder and flicked it open. To my surprise, the file included a copy of the photograph on my ID badge. I hated the shot and I sulked as I continued reading.

The first page had the biographical information I’d expected; height, weight, birth date, hair and eye colors. Then a few more curious notes leapt off the page.

Variation: precognition, remote viewing
Genetic Status: pre-natal intervention
Enhancement Status: ongoing, TE-9306 5ml

What did pre-natal mean in connection to genetic status? If I developed psychic abilities before I was born, how the hell would anyone at Innoviro know that? I needed to confront Ivan. There was no choice now. He either knew more about me than he’d ever let on or he was injecting me with who-knows-what based on assumptions. These injections were dangerous shit any way I looked at it from here on out. I’d have to make up an excuse for needing more information, aside from confessing to breaking into the company lab.

I turned my attention back to the wall of vials and jars. Pure morbid curiosity held me in that room, peering into the bottles of liquid, straining to read the labels. They were all coded with letters and numbers, similar to the chemical noted in my file. And then my gaze landed on an entirely different cabinet.

Every jar of liquid behind the next glass door held some grotesque specimen of flesh or bone. A container that glinted mildly in the dim fluorescent light turned out to be fish scales on closer inspection. What looked like a shard of wood was actually a bone fragment with exposed marrow. Another container displayed a lumpy chunk of flesh that was simply unrecognizable.

As I continued reading each label, I noted that the biological specimens had several grading categories. The bone shard was marked “Modification: CB5608” and a green highlighter had marked the text. I couldn’t read several others as the bottles weren’t all facing out. The fish scales were marked with a different grade, “Modification: FD7394” highlighted in yellow and circled with red felt. I wondered how fish scales could be less friendly than bone. I knew better than to touch any bottles in a strange experimental lab, but I instinctively placed my hand on the polished chrome handle of the fridge door.

I saw Tatiana working diligently in front of a Bunsen burner. She had various medical instruments spread out on her workspace, including the lumpy flesh specimen from the cabinet. In a flash, she injected a clear liquid into a big beefy bicep. I concentrated, trying to zoom out and see the face above Tatiana’s subject’s arm. Instead, my eyes focused on the specimen jar’s label. I made out the words “photon chameleon” and “UNSTABLE”, the latter in alarming red capital letters. Tatiana’s elegant hand made a note on her clipboard that read: “Refraction rate improved to 99%. Mortality risk at transition elevated to 75% above baseline.”

The elevator bell sent a jolt through me and I released the door handle like a hot potato. I crept back towards the open filing cabinet drawer and closed it very carefully. I slipped into the gap between the filing cabinet and the wall. The space between the cold metal and the corner of the room barely fit one small girl. I pressed my back against the wall, hardly breathing as I waited for my inevitable discovery.

“Fucking interns,” I heard a technician named Brad curse before he pulled the door closed from the hall outside. My whole body prickled with tension as I waited. I took time to calm myself down and then I waited some more. I wanted to be sure the man had gone again or settled into whatever room he entered.

I briefly considered simply stepping into the bright hallway and trying to act casual, as though I had a right to be coming out of a restricted lab I’d never been given the security code to access. While I waited, an overwhelming feeling over took me–that Ivan’s research on genetic ‘variations’ was not intended to help people like me, Jonah, Cole, Faith, or anyone period.

In fact, I’d started to suspect his motives were much more selfish, although I couldn’t pinpoint his underlying objective. Could it be anything other than money? Manipulating human DNA would be endlessly lucrative if he’d figured out how to initiate and control the process, or possibly even turn on traits by request. How far could the research go and how quickly since he had willing human test subjects? Getting back upstairs unseen was now a matter of self-preservation rather than the concealment of a simple act of insubordination.

I tried to picture the hall. At least a half a dozen doors were out there and one corridor I’d never explored. Brad could be anywhere, even back upstairs, but nobody ever left the building through the sewer as far as I knew. If I remembered the hallway correctly, only one of the rooms between me and the door to the sewer had an observation window. It was the lab I’d seen a collection of white coats in during my tour with Ivan and the pane of glass looking in was wide and tall. Had the light been on in there when I came down?

Damn it! I couldn’t know either way. I’d have to take my chances that Brad wasn’t in that large lab room.

I crept towards the door and carefully turned the knob. I ventured a scan of the hall and I couldn’t see or hear anyone. I slipped out into the hall, closing the door equally gently. My sneakers made no noise, but I heard my breath and the thudding of my heart. I tried to walk casually towards the sewer exit at the end of the hall.

As I approached the window on my left hand side, I ventured a glance, still trying to stay cool. My eyes met Brad’s almost instantly. Whether he heard me or looked up in a moment of horrible coincidence I wasn’t sure. He frowned and I waved with my right hand. Suddenly I realized I still held my personal medical file, but the folder eased Brad’s tension, giving me enough camouflage of belonging. He waved back and gave me a confused smile.

My mouth dry, my heart racing, I squinted in the bright fluorescent light. I stayed my course and pushed the long metal bar on the door at the end of the hall. Before the door closed again behind me, a red light in the ceiling of the outdoor stairwell began flashing and the beep-beep-beep of an alarm came from the lab behind me.

Out of pure instinct, I ran. The grating beat of drums and guitars blasted out of cheap speakers from the cavern ahead. It occurred to me that the variants in the sewer would be more inclined to kill or capture me than to let me pass. Praying for darkness, I kept going, up and up the stairs and through the winding corridor. I noticed a narrow hall on my left. I didn’t know how much farther it was to the main sewer where I’d seen the makeshift tent city. Was the narrow hall a dead end? At least I’d have somewhere to hide if it wasn’t an escape route. So, I took it, head down.

Someone–or something–muttered behind me. How far behind, I couldn’t tell. An Innoviro employee? A sewer-dweller? A rat? The undecipherable sound echoed, bouncing around me as I marched faster and faster.

Chapter 9

The narrow concrete hallway leading away from the catacombs was barely wide enough to jog through without bumping the walls. I lifted my purse strap and slung it across my chest to stop the bag from bouncing against the rough stone. The tunnel went on and on and on, curving slightly the whole way. As I neared a pronounced turn, the glow of a light ahead gave me hope that I was actually heading somewhere. Soon I smelled the urban ocean. Salt, seaweed, and diesel fuel grew stronger.

I splashed through shallow puddles that quickly merged and deepened. I waded into ankle-deep water before I knew it. Icy ocean water flooded my thick black skate shoes and soaked my corduroys as my feet got heavier. My ankles throbbed with stabbing pain. My teeth chattered. My body shook. I trudged on, hoping the water wouldn’t get any deeper or that I wouldn’t meet a locked iron grate.

I rounded another corner. The blinding light of an overcast sky streamed in through a large round opening. I was in a slime-covered culvert and it must have been low tide. The alarm beeped faintly in the distance. I risked a brief stop, panting from the intensity of running through water. When I looked back at the path ahead I saw a ghostly figure.

Instinctively, I screamed as I reeled backwards and nearly fell ass-first into the shallow ocean. I locked eyes with the translucent apparition and realized it was Ilya. He was pointing at something. His silent image mouthed something I couldn’t understand, but I followed the line of his pointer finger. I saw nothing but a misty line of hills in the distance.

His expression grew urgent as I looked back and forth between him and the foggy blue-green landscape on the horizon. The image flickered out of existence and I snapped back to the moment. I had to keep moving. I waded out of the tunnel and around the corner of the culvert onto a temporarily exposed wet pebble beach made even more difficult to navigate by a slimy layer of algae. I was below the sea wall of a hotel, near a boat launch dock on the far side of the Inner Harbour. I made my way to the rusty ladder that reached down the side of the dock. The structure reeked of the seaweed and fuel soaked into the barnacle-encrusted wood pillars. I tucked my file folder under my arm and clambered up the slick metal rungs.

I walked casually off the dock and reached the road quickly, trying to act normal. My feet squished and squeaked with each step. Aside from my sopping sneakers and soaked pant cuffs, I didn’t look at all out of the ordinary. So I walked to the nearest bus stop and waited, physically and mentally uncomfortable until an unfamiliar bus pulled up, labeled simply ‘Oak Bay’. I got on without a word to the driver. I’d get off again as soon as I recognized the area.

Within minutes, I came to one of the stops for the Esquimalt route that would take me home. Another stroke of luck brought a connecting bus in another few minutes. As I stared out the window through the blue iron beams of the bridge, I thought about what had happened point by point. I’d stolen a file, encountered Brad, and set off an alarm before running off through the sewer. The likelihood I still had a job was small.

Could they or would they press charges for theft? Setting aside professional and legal consequences, I still had to consider the ramifications of one small line in my file. ‘Genetic Status: pre-natal.’ I couldn’t shake the idea that Innoviro had known about me long before I followed my visions to Victoria.

I decided to go back to Prince George. And why not leave immediately? I’d go home, pack, and put this city in my rear-view mirror. Sure, I was leaving the best job I’d ever had, but it clearly also was the most fundamentally screwed. A pang of regret came as I looked at the clock on my cell phone. It had been less than an hour since I made the decision to go snooping in the lab, so sure I’d find some piece of information to set my mind at ease about Innoviro and my participation in their experiments. I thought about Walter and his crimes at the car dealership and I laughed out loud. Several other bus passengers stared at me, but it didn’t faze me. I reeled from the rush of my escape.

After the world’s fastest packing job, I made it back downtown again with plenty of time to make the eight o’clock Coastal Coach passenger bus to Vancouver. I could have purchased a connecting Greyhound ticket to Prince George, but I wanted to see how much more the comfort of a Via Rail train would cost me once I arrived at the Vancouver bus depot. Getting off the Island was enough.

My laptop got heavier with every step, so I put my backpack in a storage locker and walked back out onto the sidewalk. I had almost three hours to kill. I could sit down to a meal, but that wouldn’t suck up enough time, so I continued around the corner to wander for a bit.

I nearly walked right into a girl sitting cross-legged on the sidewalk behind a cap full of change and a flimsy piece of cardboard. She sat on a folded blanket, her tangled hair tied back. Her colorful, tattoo-covered arms looked vivid alongside her dingy, faded T-shirt. She gazed at me, unmoved by my alarm at nearly walking into her. She continued holding her sign:
Please stop being nice to me. I’m not a nice person. I have nowhere to go and nothing to eat. I don’t deserve your help.

Normally, I’d offer my standard remorseful ‘No, I’m sorry,’ response, but I didn’t know what to make of her cryptic attempt at reverse psychology. But, her bright, crisp tattoos. They were almost hypnotic and I couldn’t look away. I saw movement! I caught a smirk on her face and I broke eye contact as I resumed my march.

I wouldn’t feel safe until I was on that bus rolling quickly out of the city’s core. A horribly long three hours lay ahead. I veered into the gardens on my right. The landscaped lawn between Victoria’s bus depot and the harbor-front Empress Hotel was a quiet and conveniently crowded place to wait until I got hungry enough to grab some dinner, and then finally board my bus.

I sat down on a chilly wood bench and looked back at the sidewalk. The corner of the building concealed the spot where the girl sat and I stared for a long minute to see if she would come after me. Nothing happened and I relaxed a bit. I pulled
The Chrysalids
from my scuffed purse. On Jonah’s recommendation, I’d picked up the novel at a used bookstore on Johnson Street a few days ago. I looked forward to reading it, particularly now that I had a personal context to relate to the story about mutants hiding their differences from mainstream society. I hadn’t made my way through more than two pages when a tall–no immense–figure walked into my peripheral vision. I closed the book and saw Rubin walking alongside a giant. They strode rapidly towards me.

“You cannot leave town, Miss Proffer. Not without talking to me first,” Rubin said darkly.

“Wow, you don’t miss a beat. ‘Hi, how are you Irina? Great? That’s nice, me too,” I said sarcastically.

The giant glowered at me. His long forehead and thick eyebrows made the angular lines of his face seem outright menacing. He was at least seven feet tall. I shifted in my seat as I realized he was both tall enough and strong enough to lift me several feet off the ground. If he could disappear, this man could easily be my attacker.

“Who’s your friend? Aren’t you going to introduce us?” I said.

“Irina, this is Hugo. He also works for Innoviro,” said Rubin. “Now, I know why you’re leaving and it doesn’t matter. Ivan won’t punish you for this afternoon’s indiscretion and . . . your parents aren’t waiting for you at home.”

“What? How do you know where my parents are?” A creeping sense of dread pawed at my sides. Anger surged in me and I grabbed Rubin’s forearm. A nauseous wave hit, but I held on, transported to my parents’ living room.

Darryl yelled, gesturing the way I’d seen in my vision. “Listen buddy, I don’t know what more to say here. We’ve never met you before and you’re telling us that our daughter works for your company, and that because of her job, you want us to cut off contact?”

“We’re supposed to take your word that she’s fine? After only a handful of phone calls? Is this what Irina wants?” Mom demanded.

“All I can tell you, Mr. and Mrs. Proffer, is that Irina has relocated permanently and she requires time and space to focus on her work,” said Rubin’s voice.

I couldn’t see him, but suddenly realized his voice came from me, inside my vision. I saw the conversation through his eyes.

“You’re not making any sense! What have you done to our daughter?” cried Mom.

“I’ve had about enough of you, man,” Darryl said. “Get out of my house, and I mean NOW!”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible. Mrs. Proffer, you know why I can’t leave, don’t you? Don’t you understand who I work for? It doesn’t matter in the end. We’re not done here yet,” said Rubin. His hand swung out into my field of vision and my parents both went silent. They struggled against an unseen constriction, but quickly fell back on the couch, stiff and still.

I let go of Rubin’s arm and staggered backward, dropping onto the wood bench behind me. I leaned forward and vomited.

“It was you!” I shouted as soon as I recovered my breath. “You’re the shadow in my house! Has it already happened? What did you do to them? Why?”

“I’m sorry, Irina, it was an accident. My task was to wipe their memories of you, and to seek out your connections in the community, removing their memories as well. Teachers and friends, with the exception of your friend Bridget, I got them all. With your parents, it went horribly wrong. I had to do more digging in their minds. I’ve wiped many memories before and it’s never been fatal,” Rubin said in a slow, calm tone. “If you go back to Prince George now, you’ll waste valuable time searching and groping . . .”

Rubin’s voice faded as I turned and marched methodically back into the bus depot lobby. Tears rolled down my cheeks and sobs escaped. There wasn’t enough tea in the world to calm me down after this. I felt all the eyes in the room on me as I fumbled through my jacket pockets frantically searching for my locker key. It was no use. I’d come back for my bag later.

I couldn’t go home, but I knew Faith lived in a hippie neighborhood not far to the north. I’d seen a bus labeled ‘Fernwood’ along Douglas Street. As soon as I was on my way to her house, I’d call to make sure she was home. If she wasn’t there I’d sit outside her building until she came back.

As I walked and Rubin’s news continued to sink in, I gave in to the grief and let my crying escalate, rippling through my body. I didn’t want to believe it, but I knew my parents had really died. Why hadn’t I seen the whole vision earlier? Was there ever any chance to save them? Why hadn’t I gone home the first time I saw them arguing with someone? If I had put my parents, my
real
family first, there would be nothing to regret now.

After only moments of standing alone at a bus stop up the street, I felt a giant hand clamp down on my mouth. Another wrapped around my throat. The grip held me in place, but as my eyes darted around, there were no hands or arms in sight. One mystery was solved; Hugo had definitely been my attacker from the gas station parking lot. Fat lot of good it had done for me to relate the incident to Rubin. Obviously he’d known immediately who I’d encountered. Maybe he had even ordered it. Maybe Ivan had. My heart raced faster.

“We’re going to get into the back of Rubin’s car,” said that familiar gravelly voice. “I suggest you don’t fight me or I may squeeze too hard.”

On cue, Rubin pulled up in front of the bus stop. Hugo’s giant meaty hands forced me forward. I knew I was trapped, so I reached for the car door handle on my own. After shoving me into the car, Hugo pushed in beside me. His hunched form seeped back into reality like a rapidly soaking stain. I ignored him and focused on Rubin’s eyes in the rear-view mirror.

“Why my parents? What did they do to deserve having their memory wiped?”

“Ivan thought it best that you cut off ties to your previous life,” Rubin said. “I sensed some homesickness in you and I advised him accordingly. The series of procedures Ivan asked me to perform has been done for many variants in the past. When you join Innoviro, you step into a world which requires boundaries and protection. It’s for the good of the work we do, as well as the people we work with, and for our clients.”

“So you went up there to scramble their brains so they’d forget I ever existed? Just in case they felt like coming for a visit and met my mutant friends and saw my mystically protected apartment!”

“Essentially, yes,” said Rubin.

“What about my sister? She wasn’t in Prince George and she’ll start asking about me.”

“No, Irina, I’m afraid she won’t.”

“What? You killed her too?”

“Thankfully I visited her beforehand and nothing went wrong.” Rubin tried his best to sound soothing as he turned off the main drag onto the road that funneled traffic out of the Inner Harbour and up the coast. He continued along the edge of the Harbour until the road curved and the coastline opened up ahead. “Families or other interconnected parties need to be wiped very close together so as not to cause confusion or regression. I took my time with the rest of your life so I could leave your parents to the end.”

“So, what will Gemma think happened to me?”

“She now believes she is an only child. All traces of you were removed from your parents’ house. And courtesy of several Innoviro IT staff, no record of your birth certificate, Social Insurance Number, high school transcripts, or driver’s license will be found when the police investigate your parents’ death. They will simply inform Gemma that her parents died of accidental carbon monoxide poisoning,” said Rubin.

“So you and Ivan have this shit all figured out, eh? You’re going to clean up after yourselves as though I never existed!” I looked over at the waterfront sidewalk on our left. A smiling middle-aged couple escorted their golden retriever. A mother pushed a stroller, accompanied by a little girl skipping.

“Of course not, Irina. How can you think that? I am deeply sorry for what happened and I know Ivan will be too. He’s not going to care that you peeked at your medical file. Come with me and we’ll get you back into the lab so you can proceed with your injections. You can still help find Ilya.”

“Well, there’s no need for that search anymore either. I’m pretty sure he’s already dead,” I said, with slight satisfaction. I felt sick again as soon as the idea reached completion. No matter what Rubin or Ivan had done, Ilya deserved better. I still felt like I knew him.