Passionate Immunity (9 page)

“Ha!” she cried out, pulling a folder from the pile. “I’ve got you, Ennis Farlough.”

Flushed with her success, she placed it on the edge of the desk in easy reach and scanned even faster through the last few files.

“Holy shit!” she crowed in delight. “Here’s Dolores Kienl and Mather Niese as well. What a coup.”

“But the others aren’t there?” Tristan said, clearly confused.

Kimber shook her head and opened Mather’s file.

“I don’t even understand the implications of these three being here. They’re supposedly waiting to be ‘archived’,” she reminded him.

Any further hypothesising dropped out of mind as her brain registered what her eyes saw. Clearly stamped across the front sheet of paper—the most recent page of the file—was a single red word.

Deceased.

Kimber’s eyes widened. She continued to scan the notes. Tristan came to read over her shoulder.

‘10/02—MN declared DOA, death certificate issued, cause of death: heart failure

09/02—MN check-up, reaction OK, no further follow up—BP 120/80, BT—36.7 °C pupils reactive—OK

07/02—MN received third dose of vaccine I79. Mild skin reaction—OK. BP 110/80, BT—36.5°C pupils reactive—OK

13/11—MN check-up OK, no further follow up—BP 120/90, BT—36.4 °C pupils reactive—OK

10/11—MN received second dose of vaccine I79…’

Leaving Mather Niese’s folder open on the desk so Tristan could continue to read it, she briefly scanned Ennis Farlough and Dolores Kienl’s files as well. Both of them had passed away in the last few months and both had received numerous doses of the vaccine—I79—mentioned in Mather’s file.

The doctor’s notations seemed similar in all three cases. All three of them were consulted by and signed off on by a Dr Paul Harper. Most distressing was that while each of these patients had died recently from seemingly different causes, they all had passed away mere days after having another shot of the I79.

Kimber flicked over the notation page and read the reports of the most recent blood analysis. She wasn’t a doctor, but her background in vaccines and immunology helped her enough to get a rough idea of what the tests concluded. Red and white blood cell counts, platelets analysis and all kinds of tests—they were analysing these people’s immune reactions, presumably to this vaccine I79.

“We have to find these other files,” Kimber said urgently, her mind moving in a hundred different directions. “It appears as if Project Immunity is some sort of vaccine being tested on people. They’re monitoring white blood cell counts and the levels of various Immunoglobulin. It’s not supposed to be like this. Clinical trials take years and reams of paperwork, a hundred different control panels, interviews. The red tape is mind boggling. How the hell did this tiny little pseudo-laboratory get permission to—”

“Henley’s using money and resources she’s received illegally through back channels—” Tristan cut her off. “My guess is they didn’t get permission from the various government medical boards or agencies, love.”

“But…” Kimber couldn’t even finish the sentence, unable to stomach such a thought. She looked wildly about her, unable to believe this innocuous room could have been privy to something so mind-numbing.

And to have potentially resulted in deaths… Kimber struggled to catch her breath. She had to be overreacting. This couldn’t possibly be as it seemed.

Her gaze fell back on the test tubes. Almost blindly she focused on their colour-coded caps waiting to be pierced by needles and filled with blood. Her attention roamed towards the centrifuge and dishes in the corner, beakers lined up along the bench waiting for the laboratory staff to return for the following day.

In a rush she collected up the three folders and shoved them into Tristan’s duffel. She could pore over them later, when she had time to pick them apart at leisure. For now she needed to act while she had the chance. Kimber seriously doubted they would have another opportunity to scour the lab for samples that might be left lying around.

Determined to use every second granted to her, she stalked to the work area, knelt down and threw open the cupboard doors. With more haste than grace or care she began to search the neatly stacked piles of equipment.

She could not leave without hard evidence and a means to stop this nightmare. All thoughts of capture, of arrest for the now seemingly negligible crime of breaking and entering illegally had flown out of her mind as righteous indignation took control of her.

“Kimber! What the hell are you—?”

“If they’re really doing this, if this Dr Harper is injecting people with some bloody vaccine that is resulting in their deaths, then there must be evidence,” she ground out as she finished with one cupboard and moved to the next without a pause. “We don’t have time or the right tools to search the place for his notes and files. But there should be blood samples, smear samples or microscope slides, hell, I’d even love a vial of this so-called vaccine. Something to use as proof.”

“No, Lucas, we’re fine,” Tristan spoke to his comm unit. “Kimber is just…uh…”

“I have not lost my mind,” she insisted without even glancing at Tristan. His tone of voice spoke volumes for what he had left unsaid.

“Of course not, love,” he reassured her, hastily adding, “Fuck me, Lucas. Of course I wasn’t speaking to you, you arse!”

A reluctant huff of laughter escaped her lips as she stood up and nudged the cupboard doors closed with her hip. Casting a brief glance at her lover, she gave him a half-hearted smile before opening the cupboards above the workbench.

Tristan glanced around the laboratory, looking frazzled.

“This might be a stupid question,” Tristan said, seeming hesitant, “but if this is a vaccine then why are they inoculated roughly every three months? Shouldn’t they just be popped once and then covered for life?”

“Many vaccines don’t last for long,” Kimber replied without pausing in her rapid search. “Think of an allergy shot. You need to have them frequently to help build up your immunity. Some vaccines are like you say—you have one and are covered for years or even decades—but many aren’t like that. Your body needs to continually be reminded of how to fight it.”

“So these people might have died from an overdose?” Tristan suggested.

Kimber shrugged.

“I can’t answer that at the moment. Maybe. Possibly the good doctor continued to tweak the vaccine and made a mistake. Or maybe they had an allergic reaction to something in the vaccine. There could be a hundred different explanations. That’s one of the reasons I want to find a sample.”

“Let me help you,” Tristan said. He came up beside her.

Suddenly, she felt antsy. They were taking too long. Kimber shook her head and moved to the last cupboard.

“No, I’m nearly done here,” she insisted. “Why don’t you go up front and see how simple it would be to crack into the main medical records. I know we currently have enough data to hang this bastard, but I’d feel better if we had records on those other missing patients.”

Tristan hovered, clearly torn.

She paused in her search and turned to face him. Cupping his jaw tenderly, she pressed a soft, heartfelt kiss to his lips. He tasted spicy from the Indian curry they’d shared earlier for dinner. It felt like a lifetime ago. Running the tip of her tongue over the fullness of his lower lip, she felt a shiver of passion race through her body at the intimate contact.

“I’ll be fine, I’m a big girl,” she whispered. “Besides, I just have this cupboard to look through. I’ll be less than a minute, practically on your heels. Go.”

“This goes against my better judgement,” he hedged. “My gut thinks—”

“That’s your libido, lover,” she teased him lightly. “One minute. I promise. Please, you’re wasting time we don’t have. Go, Tristan.”

He cupped the base of her skull, his fingers splayed into her curls, and he tilted her head back to kiss her fiercely. Feeling claimed, branded, it took Kimber a minute to realise he’d pulled back, heat from his possession still tingling over her lips and neck even after he’d stepped away.

“Wow,” she breathed, amazed how one man could affect her on such an elemental level.

“One minute,” he reminded her.

She snapped back to attention. His decadent kiss injected eagerness and a hot, liquid thrill back into her senses. Her excitement for this work rose once again. Her spirits had flagged with the serious nature of what they had unearthed, but the simple caress of his lips, the banter that had begun to feel familiar to her lifted her enthusiasm.

Once again this felt like a grand adventure—a steamy, magnificently erotic adventure.

Tristan had only just stepped out of the laboratory when she found something. Right at the back, under a section with a sticky label stating ’Dr Harper’ was a plastic rack with a bunch of vials.

While most of the caps were punctured—indicating the tests had been run and the samples were no longer viable—the two up the front were still sealed. With no context, Kimberly couldn’t be sure, but she felt confident the samples were still fresh and intact, indicating he had not got around to testing them yet.

One was labelled ‘Elise Heckett’, the other, thrillingly, had the name ‘Abigail Turner’ written in a neat script.

“Got it!” she called out. She grabbed Abigail’s sample and carefully slid it into the front pocket of her jeans.

Three steps across the room and things happened all at once. Tristan walked back into the lab, a smile on his face, his mouth opening as he almost said something. The sound of a gun being cocked came from across the room. A strange voice called out, “What the hell?”

Kimber snapped her head around—a tall, gangly man with shaggy, wavy blond hair almost reaching his collar was stood in a doorframe half hidden by a partially drawn privacy screen. His white lab coat flapped open, revealing suit pants and a polo shirt, a stethoscope partially lodged in the breast pocket.

He pointed a gun at Kimber, but when the man noticed Tristan coming farther into the room he swung the gun around to him, clearly sensing Tristan would be the greater threat.

“Don’t shoot!” Kimber cried out. “It’s okay, we’re just here to—”

“Steal my work! Of course! I’ve been waiting for people just like you to realise the greatness I’m on the brink of.”

Kimber frowned, lost.
Greatness?

Before she could think of how to reply the man closed his eyes and squeezed off a round. The gun boomed in the enclosed space, seeming to reverberate around the laboratory. Instinctively cringing back, Kimber clapped her hands over her ears, the sound painful to her.

Tristan had ducked for cover and now had his own gun out. Dimly Kimber thought she heard him shout, “Don’t make me do this!” But the other man had already depressed the trigger once again.

With no cover to speak of Kimber trembled, feeling vulnerable. On his knees, Tristan leaned from behind the desk and shot off a couple of rounds, then waved for Kimber to come towards him. Her hands shook where they were pressed up against her ears, and for a split second she hesitated.

The stranger returned one shot, the bullet lodging into the wood Tristan was hiding behind, splintering some of it off. Understanding dawned as adrenaline pumped through her body. Sooner or later the man would get around to her, and she didn’t have a desk or anything more than a thin plastic chair within reach to use for cover.

While she might get shot running for safety, she would definitely get shot if she stayed there for long.

Put like that her choice was easy.

Tristan leaned out again, a trickle of blood running down his cheek. That more than anything urged her to race towards him. Dark hair fell over his forehead. He looked far grimmer than she had seen him so far. Eyes as black as night didn’t move from his target and Kimber could see his focus was absolute.

Tristan took aim and fired, the gun blasting in his hands as she crouched behind him, cowering beneath his large frame like a kid playing hide-and-seek. The other man yelped in pain and fell to the floor. Kimber only wasted a half second to glance back at him. Tristan had grazed their attacker’s arm, blood was seeping into his white coat a bright, frothy red.

Looking him over carefully, she realised the wound wasn’t life-threatening. She wondered if he’d done that on purpose but didn’t intend for either of them to stick around and talk about it.

Reaching out, she grabbed Tristan and pulled him out of the door with her.

“We should—”

“Run like fury,” she cut him off, refusing to debate about it. “I have the sample, and I don’t care who he is, what he’s doing here or anything of that sort. I want us to get out of here and not have to explain anything to the cops.”

“I was going to say go around the back and meet up with Lucas, but it’s a bit late now,” he replied calmly.

Kimber’s heart pounded so hard she thought for sure she’d burst a blood vessel or cause some irreparable harm. She didn’t understand how Tristan could be so cool about all of this. A part of her felt immense pride she wasn’t having a hysterical meltdown in the middle of the waiting room as they both rushed towards the front door.

“We’re fine,” Tristan spoke into his comm.. “We’ve been compromised. I need you to call someone at the Agency and get them to remove the CCTV for this hour, immediately. We’re heading out of the front and can’t afford to be seen. Get the fuck out of there. We’re going dark for now. I’ll call you later when we’re safely stashed away.”

Lucas must have given his assent immediately because less than a breath later Tristan said, “Okay,” before removing his ear piece and putting it in his pocket.

Remembering her key card, Kimber dug her hands into both her back pockets, struggling to remember which one she’d put it in. The clock in the waiting room told her they’d been inside the clinic for less than half an hour. She could hardly credit it and part of her brain insisted the clock must be wrong.

She felt like she’d spent half her life in those two rooms.

Tristan opened the front door.

“We’re inside already, no need for the card,” he said, his mind clearly on other things. With a gulp Kimber followed him outside. He clasped one large hand around her upper arm—her mind recognised the fact that despite their hasty flight and her near panic, his touch was firm but quite gentle, he didn’t manhandle her or hold her overly tightly—and steered her towards the nearest Tube stop.