Transhuman (31 page)

Tamara gave him a withering stare. “If you were the last man in the world,” she hissed, “not even then.”

Del came around the table, but before he could reach Tamara, Novack released her wrist and put on a knowing smile. “That's what you think.”

“That's what I know.” Tamara took Angela's hand and started toward the door, with Del on the child's other side.

“Better bundle up,” Novack called after them, still standing at the table. “It's pretty damned cold out there.”

Tamara ignored him, but glanced down to make certain Angela's coat was zipped.

“I'm supposed to be finding the professor,” Novack said, “but that jerk of a colonel has him bottled up behind locked doors. Not to be disturbed. Typical Army bullshit.”

A couple of the civilians at the other tables nodded and smirked.

“You can see him tomorrow,” Tamara said over her shoulder.

“Yeah. I just wanted to let him know that he's going to have a visitor tomorrow.”

“A visitor?”

“Quenton Fisk.”

Tamara stopped short of the door. “From the Fisk Foundation?”

“Yeah. Fisk's coming all the way out here just to see him and make sure he's all snug and comfy in his new home.”

“I'll tell Professor Abramson,” she said.

“Yeah. Do that. And anytime you want to get snug and comfy, here I am.”

Tamara didn't dignify that remark with an answer. She pushed through the door, out into the frigid night, holding Angela's hand, Del following behind them. Novack stood there, smirking.

 

Quenton Fisk

“
H
E'S COMING HERE?”
asked Luke.

“Tomorrow, according to Novack,” Tamara replied.

The two of them were standing in the empty first floor of the building that Colonel Dennis had assigned them, by the stairs. Angela and her father had gone upstairs together, preparing for bed. The big bare room was bathed in shadows. Not even ceiling lamps had been installed; the only light came through the windows, from the far-spaced lamps lining the lonely, unoccupied street outside.

Luke huffed. “Maybe he can light a fire under these Army people and get us the staff and equipment we need.”

Even in the shadowy lighting, Luke could see the frown on Tamara's face.

“You don't like it here, do you?” he asked her.

“There's not much to like.”

“It'll be better once we get everything in place, all the people we need. Then we can get to work.”

“I suppose so,” she said.

“In the meantime, the colonel said we can use the facilities he's already got here. He wants to show me through the place tomorrow.”

“I'd like to check out their medical facility,” said Tamara. “I want to do complete workups on Angela and you.”

“Me? I don't need another physical.”

“Your PSA count, remember?”

“That can wait.”

“It can wait until I check out the medical facility here. Then you're going to get a physical. Period.”

Luke stared at her for a heartbeat, then broke into a rueful grin. “Harkening and obedience, O master.”

Tamara smiled back at him. “And don't you forget it.”

*   *   *

I
T WAS MIDAFTERNOON
before Fisk showed up, arriving in an Air Force helicopter that clattered over the base and raised billows of dust as it settled onto the chopper pad.

Standing on the edge of the landing area with Colonel Dennis beside him, Luke wondered if the only way to get in and out of Y-18 was by helicopter. He thought he remembered seeing a road leading out from the base's main gate, but he wasn't sure about that, and he certainly didn't know where the road led, if it existed.

Fisk clambered briskly down the copter's ladder and strode directly toward Luke, an energetic figure in a long cashmere overcoat flapping open and a dark fedora that he held on his head with one gloved hand. Two taller men came out of the helicopter and hurried along behind him. Flunkies, Luke thought.

Still tightly holding the brim of his hat, Fisk came right up to Luke and peered intently at him.

“It's true!” he exclaimed. “You're younger than you were a few weeks ago.”

“It's true,” Luke replied tightly. He was wearing a windbreaker, no hat. The day was chilly but sunny and dry.

Fisk was shorter than Luke had expected him to be, considerably smaller than he had seemed in their Skype communications. Then Luke remembered that Fisk was always behind an impressive desk in those conversations; this was the first time he'd seen the man on his feet.

“I'm Colonel Dennis.” The colonel broke into Fisk's unabashed stare at Luke. “I'm the base commander.”

As if snapping out of a trance, Fisk turned to the colonel and offered his gloved hand. “Glad to meet you, Colonel.”

Turning, Fisk introduced, “This is Dr. Marlo Gunnerson, and Dr. Basil Holmes. They'll be working with Professor Abramson.”

Gunnerson was tall, broad-shouldered, and pale-skinned, with the ice blue eyes and straw yellow hair of a Viking. His hairline was receding, though, and his shoulders seemed stooped. Holmes looked younger. He was almost the same height as Gunnerson, but thin, with dark hair, deeply brown eyes, and an imperious hawk's nose. Both men wore expensive-looking topcoats; both were hatless.

Before either Luke or Colonel Dennis could say anything, Fisk added, “These are two of the top cellular biologists in the Fisk Foundation's laboratories. Absolutely first-rate research scientists.”

Luke reached for Gunnerson's hand. “Haven't seen you since the cellular biology conference last year, Marlo.” Turning to Holmes, “I've read a couple of your papers. Good to meet you.”

Colonel Dennis gestured toward the buildings. “Let's go to the commissary and get something to eat.”

“I'll join you there,” said Fisk. Grasping Luke's arm, he went on. “I need to speak with Professor Abramson in private for a few minutes first.”

Dennis's round face frowned for an instant, but he quickly put on a smile and said, “Of course, Mr. Fisk.” Pointing, he added, “That's the commissary building, down the street. We'll meet you there.”

And he walked off with Gunnerson and Holmes, chatting amiably.

Fisk followed them with his eyes for a moment, the expression on his face disdainful, almost sneering. “Scientists,” he muttered. He turned to Luke. “Show me where you'll be working.”

It wasn't a request, Luke thought. It was a command.

As he led Fisk toward the building he'd been assigned to, Luke felt the man's eyes boring into him.

“I can't get over it,” Fisk said. “You actually look ten, maybe twenty years younger.”

“The telomerase accelerators are working,” Luke muttered.

“I'll say!”

Raising a cautioning finger, Luke added, “But we don't know what the side effects might be. We've got a long road ahead of us.”

Fisk laughed. “Maybe so, but you'll have all the years you need to go down that road, won't you?”

 

Abramson Lab

F
ISK'S HAPPY SMILE
disappeared once Luke showed him into the bare first floor of the building.

Scowling as he turned a full circle, he snapped, “This is it? One lousy room? And it's empty!”

“Colonel Dennis says—”

“Screw Colonel Dennis! You're supposed to have a first-rate facility here. And a first-rate staff. I've brought you Gunnerson and Holmes, for chrissakes! What're they going to do
here,
in this goddamned barn?”

“Welcome to the Abramson Laboratory,” Luke said sardonically.

“Typical goddamned government shit,” Fisk grumbled as he yanked out his smartphone. “I'll have that Rossov's hide pinned to the wall for this.”

“He's right here,” said Luke. “You can talk to him in person.”

But Fisk wasn't listening. He pecked at his cell phone, glared at it, shook it, and jabbed it with his index finger again. “Goddamned phone's dead,” he grumbled.

“Maybe its battery is—”

“The damned battery's fine,” Fisk snapped. “Charged it on the flight here.”

As if on cue, a jeep squealed to a stop outside. Through the window by the front door, Luke saw Rossov and Colonel Dennis climb out. Novack was also in it, sitting beside the driver. He stayed in the jeep while the colonel and Rossov came up the front steps.

Fisk saw them, too. He went to the door and yanked it open as the colonel raised his chubby fist to knock.

“Rossov?” he barked. “What kind of a godforsaken dump have you stuck Abramson into? You've got some explaining to do.”

Luke thought he could see steam spurting from Fisk's ears. Waving an arm at the empty room, Fisk demanded, “Is this the first-rate facility the professor's supposed to work in?”

Dennis looked cowed, almost frightened, but Rossov said calmly, “The equipment is on its way. In a day or two everything—and everybody—will be humming smoothly.”

“In a day or two?” Fisk barked. “Why isn't everything in place
now
?”

Almost whining, Colonel Dennis replied, “We only had two days' notice that Professor Abramson would be coming here. These things take time. They can't be done overnight.”

“
You
can't get them done overnight,” Fisk snarled. “I can.”

Smiling thinly, Rossov said, “I'm sure you could, Mr. Fisk. But the colonel here has to go through official channels.”

“Procurement,” said the colonel, as if that explained everything. “We've pushed the paperwork through, but you can't expect miracles.”

Still fuming, Fisk said, “I agreed to let you set up Professor Abramson in a first-rate research facility. I'll be back here next week, and if his laboratory isn't fully equipped and fully manned, I'll take the professor away with me.”

“No you won't.” Rossov said it softly, flatly. It was neither a threat nor a boast. Merely a statement of fact.

Fisk glared at him.

Rossov didn't flinch. “You've been allowed to visit this top-security installation because of your interest in Professor Abramson's work. If you attempt to interfere in that work, you will not be allowed back on this base.”

“Says you,” Fisk snapped.

“Says the President of the United States, whom I represent.”

Fisk glowered at Rossov for a long moment, obviously straining to find a retort. At last he turned to Colonel Dennis.

“I want you to phone me the instant this laboratory is up and running. The very instant!”

“I'd be happy to,” said the colonel. Luke saw beads of perspiration above his upper lip.

Then Fisk turned to Luke. “And I expect you, Professor, to let me know if there are any delays in getting your lab running.”

Before Luke could reply, the colonel said, “But Professor Abramson's cell phone won't be able to get through the shielding.”

“Shielding?”

Looking suddenly self-conscious, the colonel mumbled, “Electromagnetic shielding. Every building in the base is shielded. No cell phones or digital devices can communicate with the outside world.” He finished lamely, “It's, uh, one of our security measures.”

“I can't call outside the base?” Luke asked.

“Oh, sure you can,” said Colonel Dennis. “But you'll have to use one of our landlines.”

“Which are guarded, I presume,” said Rossov.

“They're monitored, yes.”

Fisk nodded. “I see. But you won't prevent the professor from calling me, will you?”

“Oh, no, of course not,” the colonel said.

Luke wondered if he was telling the truth.

 

State of Siege

F
ISK STEPPED OUT
of the so-called Abramson Lab into the nippy late-afternoon sunshine, leaving Luke, Rossov, and the sweating Colonel Dennis in the bare and empty room.

Novack was still sitting in the jeep, chatting amiably with the driver, a young corporal.

Fisk summoned his security chief with a crook of his finger. Novack sprang out of the jeep and walked swiftly to his boss, eyeing Fisk with a scornful grin on his bony, stubbled face.

“Like what you see?” he asked.

“Decidedly not,” Fisk answered. “I never liked dealing with the government, and this dump hasn't improved my attitude at all.”

“The sooner we get back to civilization the better,” said Novack.

“You're not going anywhere.”

Novack's normally imperturbable visage cracked with a surprised frown. “I'm not? But—”

“I want you right here for the time being. Report to me every day.”

“My cell phone doesn't work. There's no reception in this area.”

“Not even satellite?”

Novack shook his head. “They must have it jammed or something.”

“Army security,” Fisk muttered.

“It's like a state of siege around here. Buttoned up tight.”

“That's good,” said Fisk. “We want Abramson to stay right here.”

“But why do I have to stay? The Army's got Abramson covered; he's not going anyplace.”

“I want you around to remind that lard-assed colonel that I'm watching him.”

“Christ.”

“It should only be a few days. Just until Abramson's lab is up and running.”

“But what about things in my office? I've been away long enough; I oughta get back to New York and make sure my office is running right.”

Fisk shook his head. “Your office is humming along smoothly enough without you. You've done a good job organizing your people.”

Novack tried to hide his disappointment and failed. Another few days in this frontier outpost, he said to himself. And my office is getting along fine without me. Great. Sooner or later he's going to get the idea that he can do without me altogether. Life can stink sometimes.