you’re no good anyway.”
Emil
grimaced. “You can’t do that. I’m too close. He’s
going to take me to Ross.”
“ He
told you that?”
“ Yes.
Ross called him from Washington D.C. and set it up.”
“ When?”
“ We’re
leaving for the train station tomorrow night.” Bruckner paused.
“If I’m still on it.”
McCutcheon
lingered, watching the scene of a rowboat and its horrified passenger
dip over a mountainous waterfall. For a second, he thought he was
soaked. Jesus,
would it have killed them to keep the damn movies flat? “ Why
D.C.?” he asked.
“ Don't
know, but Trineer's buying the ticket and I figured it was best not
to ask too many questions or insist on Cleveland. Maybe he's just
being cautious, using a layover between here and Boston.”
“ I
don’t know, kid,” McCutcheon said cautiously. “If
Trineer had no involvement or even knowledge of MIT then it may mean someone
has reason not to trust him anymore. You could be walking into the
lion’s den.”
“ I
know the risks, boss. I took the same oath you did.” Bruckner
almost turned, now wanting terribly to look McCutcheon in the eye.
“I’m close. I can still do this.”
McCutcheon
sucked in his stomach and held it. “It’s not that simple.
There’s...more.”
“ What?”
“ Remember
the lab that got hit in San Francisco, just before we busted
PHANTOM?”
“ Jenetix?”
Jenetix
was a profitable biotech firm that produced a breakthrough in
small-scale tissue regeneration. It was poised to deliver new
treatments that would double the healing and recovery speed of
certain wounds.
“ There
may or may not have been some 'research' consigned at that lab,”
McCutcheon said. “I'm not talking about the kind of shit any
ten year-old can find on a Grid search either. It's the kind of stuff
nobody finds out we've been screwing with until it ends up in the
wrong hands.”
Emil
blinked. Did he just hear what he thought he heard? “You think
Ross may have been working for someone
else? Someone inside
the government ?”
“ It's
just a passing thought. One that gives me a whopper of a headache.
But you won't have to guess what public relations will be like if
this gets out.”
“ Something
like it is now?”
“ Times
ten.”
Bruckner
sighed. “Classified or not, there must be dozens of people who
could’ve spilled it.”
Dozens? McCutcheon thought. Try a number with a few
more zeroes at the end of it . “We’ve
already got people working on narrowing it down.”
“ What
about motive? Is it some sort of anti-investment scheme—trying
to dissuade financial backing in certain labs? Or is it fanatical?
What could one of our own find so threatening in the Pentagon's
charter that they'd league up with a terrorist to stop it?”
“ I
don't know. But Ross and his hatred for the biotechs is a perfect
scapegoat. Don't get carried away; I just wanted you to know the
stakes and what to keep an eye out for. It's probably not as dramatic
as all that, anyway. At least I don’t think so.”
McCutcheon
didn’t say “I don't think so” to express his
conclusion, but to express his uncertainty. The biotechs weren't just
another powerful lobbying group in Washington; they had an agenda,
and the people they were in bed with were ruthlessly insane. Some
even fell into the category of nihilistic. It made McCutcheon wonder
just how close their brand of technology—the cloning, the
advanced gene-mods and all that crap—was to actualization.
Bruckner
sighed even louder, smoothing his forehead.
“ What?”
McCutcheon said. “Did you think ‘need-to-know’
basis was only for the grunts?” He paused. “Look, I don’t
give a flying fuck what those Frankensteins are up to, although I
have my theories. Ross is a terrorist and a killer. That means we
have a job to do.”
Bruckner
thought for a moment. “Wait...are you telling me we had
contracts at MIT?”
“ The
leading contributors to that lab do have '
Emil
grimaced. “You can’t do that. I’m too close. He’s
going to take me to Ross.”
“ He
told you that?”
“ Yes.
Ross called him from Washington D.C. and set it up.”
“ When?”
“ We’re
leaving for the train station tomorrow night.” Bruckner paused.
“If I’m still on it.”
McCutcheon
lingered, watching the scene of a rowboat and its horrified passenger
dip over a mountainous waterfall. For a second, he thought he was
soaked. Jesus,
would it have killed them to keep the damn movies flat? “ Why
D.C.?” he asked.
“ Don't
know, but Trineer's buying the ticket and I figured it was best not
to ask too many questions or insist on Cleveland. Maybe he's just
being cautious, using a layover between here and Boston.”
“ I
don’t know, kid,” McCutcheon said cautiously. “If
Trineer had no involvement or even knowledge of MIT then it may mean someone
has reason not to trust him anymore. You could be walking into the
lion’s den.”
“ I
know the risks, boss. I took the same oath you did.” Bruckner
almost turned, now wanting terribly to look McCutcheon in the eye.
“I’m close. I can still do this.”
McCutcheon
sucked in his stomach and held it. “It’s not that simple.
There’s...more.”
“ What?”
“ Remember
the lab that got hit in San Francisco, just before we busted
PHANTOM?”
“ Jenetix?”
Jenetix
was a profitable biotech firm that produced a breakthrough in
small-scale tissue regeneration. It was poised to deliver new
treatments that would double the healing and recovery speed of
certain wounds.
“ There
may or may not have been some 'research' consigned at that lab,”
McCutcheon said. “I'm not talking about the kind of shit any
ten year-old can find on a Grid search either. It's the kind of stuff
nobody finds out we've been screwing with until it ends up in the
wrong hands.”
Emil
blinked. Did he just hear what he thought he heard? “You think
Ross may have been working for someone
else? Someone inside
the government ?”
“ It's
just a passing thought. One that gives me a whopper of a headache.
But you won't have to guess what public relations will be like if
this gets out.”
“ Something
like it is now?”
“ Times
ten.”
Bruckner
sighed. “Classified or not, there must be dozens of people who
could’ve spilled it.”
Dozens? McCutcheon thought. Try a number with a few
more zeroes at the end of it . “We’ve
already got people working on narrowing it down.”
“ What
about motive? Is it some sort of anti-investment scheme—trying
to dissuade financial backing in certain labs? Or is it fanatical?
What could one of our own find so threatening in the Pentagon's
charter that they'd league up with a terrorist to stop it?”
“ I
don't know. But Ross and his hatred for the biotechs is a perfect
scapegoat. Don't get carried away; I just wanted you to know the
stakes and what to keep an eye out for. It's probably not as dramatic
as all that, anyway. At least I don’t think so.”
McCutcheon
didn’t say “I don't think so” to express his
conclusion, but to express his uncertainty. The biotechs weren't just
another powerful lobbying group in Washington; they had an agenda,
and the people they were in bed with were ruthlessly insane. Some
even fell into the category of nihilistic. It made McCutcheon wonder
just how close their brand of technology—the cloning, the
advanced gene-mods and all that crap—was to actualization.
Bruckner
sighed even louder, smoothing his forehead.
“ What?”
McCutcheon said. “Did you think ‘need-to-know’
basis was only for the grunts?” He paused. “Look, I don’t
give a flying fuck what those Frankensteins are up to, although I
have my theories. Ross is a terrorist and a killer. That means we
have a job to do.”
Bruckner
thought for a moment. “Wait...are you telling me we had
contracts at MIT?”
“ The
leading contributors to that lab do have '
Similar Books
