probably criminal--- charges, it would be futile for him to try to find another job anywhere in the medical research community.
Treloar was given forty-eight hours to consider his choices. He wasted the first twenty-four doing just that. Then, as he looked into a future that held nothing but ruins, he realized that his blackmailers had overreached: they had placed him in a position where he had nothing to lose by fighting back.
By virtue of his seniority at Bauer-Zermatt, Treloar was able to secure a meeting with Dr. Karl Bauer himself. In the elegant surroundings of Bauer's Zurich office, he laid out his trespasses and the way in which he was being blackmailed. He offered to make amends any way he could.
To Treloar's surprise, Bauer seemed nonplussed at the turn of events that had befallen his wayward employee. He listened without comment, then instructed Treloar to come back the next morning.
To this day, Treloar had no idea what had transpired behind the scenes. The following morning, when he appeared before Bauer, he was told that he would never hear from the blackmailers again. Evidence of his peccadilloes was no longer in the public domain. There would be no repercussions--- ever.
But there would be recompense. Bauer informed Treloar that in return for saving his future in the medical research community, Treloar would soon leave the company. An employment offer would arrive from NASA; he would accept it. His colleagues would be told that he was seizing the chance to do the kind of research he could never be involved in if he stayed at Bauer-Zermatt. Once he arrived at NASA, he would place himself at the disposal of Dr. Dylan Reed. Reed would be his guide and mentor, and Treloar would obey him without question.
Treloar recalled the cold, precise way in which Bauer had handed down his edict. He remembered the flash of anger, then the amusement in Bauer's eyes when Treloar had timorously asked what kind of research he would be doing at NASA.
“Your work will be of secondary concern,” Bauer had told him. “It is your connection to your mother, to Russia, that interests me. You will be seeing her on a regular basis, I think.”
Treloar shouldered his way against the wind as he turned away from the bright lights of Gorky Square and into the dark streets that led into the Sadovaya District. The bars became seedier, the homeless and the drunks more aggressive. But this was not Treloar's first visit to Sadovaya, and he was not afraid.
Half a block away, he saw the familiar flashing neon sign: KROKODIL. A moment later, he rapped on the heavy door and waited for the Judas hole to open. A pair of black, suspicious eyes examined him, then the bolt was released and the door opened. On his way in, Treloar gave the giant Mongolian bouncer a twenty-dollar bill for the cover charge.
Shrugging off his coat, Treloar felt the last of his thoughts dissolve beneath the hot lights and the screaming music. Faces turned his way, eyes impressed by his Western suit. Gyrating bodies bumped him, more by design than by accident. The manager, a thin, ferretlike creature, hurried over to greet his foreign customer. Within seconds, Treloar had a glass of vodka in his hand and was being escorted along the edge of the dance floor to a private area of velvet-covered couches and soft ottomans.
He sighed as he relaxed among the cushions. The warmth of the liquor made his fingertips tingle.
“Shall I fetch you a sample?” the ferret whispered.
Treloar nodded happily. To pass the time, he closed his eyes and let the music roar through him. He stirred when something soft grazed his cheek.
Standing in front of him were two blond-haired boys, their eyes a perfect blue, their complexions flawless. They could not have been more than ten years old.
“Twins?”
The ferret nodded. “And better, virgins.”
Treloar groaned.
“But they are very expensive,” the ferret
Treloar was given forty-eight hours to consider his choices. He wasted the first twenty-four doing just that. Then, as he looked into a future that held nothing but ruins, he realized that his blackmailers had overreached: they had placed him in a position where he had nothing to lose by fighting back.
By virtue of his seniority at Bauer-Zermatt, Treloar was able to secure a meeting with Dr. Karl Bauer himself. In the elegant surroundings of Bauer's Zurich office, he laid out his trespasses and the way in which he was being blackmailed. He offered to make amends any way he could.
To Treloar's surprise, Bauer seemed nonplussed at the turn of events that had befallen his wayward employee. He listened without comment, then instructed Treloar to come back the next morning.
To this day, Treloar had no idea what had transpired behind the scenes. The following morning, when he appeared before Bauer, he was told that he would never hear from the blackmailers again. Evidence of his peccadilloes was no longer in the public domain. There would be no repercussions--- ever.
But there would be recompense. Bauer informed Treloar that in return for saving his future in the medical research community, Treloar would soon leave the company. An employment offer would arrive from NASA; he would accept it. His colleagues would be told that he was seizing the chance to do the kind of research he could never be involved in if he stayed at Bauer-Zermatt. Once he arrived at NASA, he would place himself at the disposal of Dr. Dylan Reed. Reed would be his guide and mentor, and Treloar would obey him without question.
Treloar recalled the cold, precise way in which Bauer had handed down his edict. He remembered the flash of anger, then the amusement in Bauer's eyes when Treloar had timorously asked what kind of research he would be doing at NASA.
“Your work will be of secondary concern,” Bauer had told him. “It is your connection to your mother, to Russia, that interests me. You will be seeing her on a regular basis, I think.”
Treloar shouldered his way against the wind as he turned away from the bright lights of Gorky Square and into the dark streets that led into the Sadovaya District. The bars became seedier, the homeless and the drunks more aggressive. But this was not Treloar's first visit to Sadovaya, and he was not afraid.
Half a block away, he saw the familiar flashing neon sign: KROKODIL. A moment later, he rapped on the heavy door and waited for the Judas hole to open. A pair of black, suspicious eyes examined him, then the bolt was released and the door opened. On his way in, Treloar gave the giant Mongolian bouncer a twenty-dollar bill for the cover charge.
Shrugging off his coat, Treloar felt the last of his thoughts dissolve beneath the hot lights and the screaming music. Faces turned his way, eyes impressed by his Western suit. Gyrating bodies bumped him, more by design than by accident. The manager, a thin, ferretlike creature, hurried over to greet his foreign customer. Within seconds, Treloar had a glass of vodka in his hand and was being escorted along the edge of the dance floor to a private area of velvet-covered couches and soft ottomans.
He sighed as he relaxed among the cushions. The warmth of the liquor made his fingertips tingle.
“Shall I fetch you a sample?” the ferret whispered.
Treloar nodded happily. To pass the time, he closed his eyes and let the music roar through him. He stirred when something soft grazed his cheek.
Standing in front of him were two blond-haired boys, their eyes a perfect blue, their complexions flawless. They could not have been more than ten years old.
“Twins?”
The ferret nodded. “And better, virgins.”
Treloar groaned.
“But they are very expensive,” the ferret
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