the children need genetic information for some reason from the biological mother, or if they require a transplant - bone marrow or a kidney."
Joanna shuddered at the thought.
"We keep a computerized record," Dr. Donaldson said. "In the unlikely event that something like what you are talking about were to occur, we might contact you. But that would be the only exception, and it is extremely unlikely. And even if it were to happen, the involved parties would still have the option of remaining anonymous. We would not give any of the information out."
Deborah threw up her hands.
"The only time the situation is different is when one of our clients finds their own donor," Dr. Donaldson continued. "But that is a completely different circumstance. It's called an open donation."
"Thank you, Dr. Donaldson," Joanna said.
"I'm sorry."
Joanna pressed the speaker phone button to disconnect.
"Well, that's that," Deborah said with a sigh.
"I'm not giving up so easily," Joanna said. "The possibility that I've got progeny out there has eaten up too much emotional energy for me to just let it go." She pulled the phone wire out of the phone, put the phone on the floor and headed over to the computer on the desk.
"What do you have in mind?"
Joanna bent down behind the electronics unit of the computer and plugged the phone line into the modem. "Way back you told me the Wingate Clinic had a website, and that you'd gotten some information from it. Let's see what kind of firewall they have. Did you keep the web address?"
"Yeah, I put it into Favorites," Deborah said. She got off the couch and came over to watch Joanna. Joanna was much more facile with every aspect of the computer than she. "What's a firewall?"
"It's software that blocks unauthorized access," Joanna said. Quickly she went onto the Internet and got the address for the Wingate. A moment later she was at the clinic's web page. Pulling up a chair, she tried to get into the clinic's files.
"No luck, huh?" Deborah said over Joanna's shoulder after a half hour.
"Unfortunately, no," Joanna said. "Of course I can't even be sure they have their web page on their own server."
"I'm not even going to ask what that means," Deborah said. She yawned and then made her way back to the couch where she stretched out full length.
Suddenly Joanna disconnected from the Internet, yanked out the phone line, and retreated back to where the phone was on the floor in front of the couch. When the phone was reconnected she called information to get the number for David Washburn.
"Who the hell is he?" Deborah asked.
"A classmate," Joanna said. "I took a couple of computer classes with him. A very nice guy, I might add, who actually asked me out a few times."
"Why on earth are you calling him now?"
"He's very computer-savvy," Joanna said. "And hacking was one of his sports as an undergraduate."
"Calling in the pros," Deborah commented with a wry smile.
"Something like that," Joanna agreed. Joanna had to go back to the desk for a pencil and paper to write the number down. Once she had, she dialed directly.
Deborah put her hands behind her head and watched Joanna's intent expression as the call went through. "Where are you finding the energy?" she asked. "You're all jazzed up, and I feel like death warmed over."
"This whole issue has been gnawing at me for too long," Joanna said. "I'd like some resolution."
SIX
MAY 7, 20O1 8:55 P.M.
WHAT TIME IS IT?" DEBORAH asked sleepily.
"Almost nine,' Joanna said, checking her watch. "Where on earth is he?"
The conversation with David Washburn had gone well. After Joanna had explained to him what they were trying to find out, he was happy to help, but he insisted on coming over to use their computer to do it.
"I can't afford any electronic trail to my machine," he had explained. "I'm on informal probation after slipping some porno shots onto the Defense Department web page with the caption Make • love not war. Unfortunately, the Feds were less than
Joanna shuddered at the thought.
"We keep a computerized record," Dr. Donaldson said. "In the unlikely event that something like what you are talking about were to occur, we might contact you. But that would be the only exception, and it is extremely unlikely. And even if it were to happen, the involved parties would still have the option of remaining anonymous. We would not give any of the information out."
Deborah threw up her hands.
"The only time the situation is different is when one of our clients finds their own donor," Dr. Donaldson continued. "But that is a completely different circumstance. It's called an open donation."
"Thank you, Dr. Donaldson," Joanna said.
"I'm sorry."
Joanna pressed the speaker phone button to disconnect.
"Well, that's that," Deborah said with a sigh.
"I'm not giving up so easily," Joanna said. "The possibility that I've got progeny out there has eaten up too much emotional energy for me to just let it go." She pulled the phone wire out of the phone, put the phone on the floor and headed over to the computer on the desk.
"What do you have in mind?"
Joanna bent down behind the electronics unit of the computer and plugged the phone line into the modem. "Way back you told me the Wingate Clinic had a website, and that you'd gotten some information from it. Let's see what kind of firewall they have. Did you keep the web address?"
"Yeah, I put it into Favorites," Deborah said. She got off the couch and came over to watch Joanna. Joanna was much more facile with every aspect of the computer than she. "What's a firewall?"
"It's software that blocks unauthorized access," Joanna said. Quickly she went onto the Internet and got the address for the Wingate. A moment later she was at the clinic's web page. Pulling up a chair, she tried to get into the clinic's files.
"No luck, huh?" Deborah said over Joanna's shoulder after a half hour.
"Unfortunately, no," Joanna said. "Of course I can't even be sure they have their web page on their own server."
"I'm not even going to ask what that means," Deborah said. She yawned and then made her way back to the couch where she stretched out full length.
Suddenly Joanna disconnected from the Internet, yanked out the phone line, and retreated back to where the phone was on the floor in front of the couch. When the phone was reconnected she called information to get the number for David Washburn.
"Who the hell is he?" Deborah asked.
"A classmate," Joanna said. "I took a couple of computer classes with him. A very nice guy, I might add, who actually asked me out a few times."
"Why on earth are you calling him now?"
"He's very computer-savvy," Joanna said. "And hacking was one of his sports as an undergraduate."
"Calling in the pros," Deborah commented with a wry smile.
"Something like that," Joanna agreed. Joanna had to go back to the desk for a pencil and paper to write the number down. Once she had, she dialed directly.
Deborah put her hands behind her head and watched Joanna's intent expression as the call went through. "Where are you finding the energy?" she asked. "You're all jazzed up, and I feel like death warmed over."
"This whole issue has been gnawing at me for too long," Joanna said. "I'd like some resolution."
SIX
MAY 7, 20O1 8:55 P.M.
WHAT TIME IS IT?" DEBORAH asked sleepily.
"Almost nine,' Joanna said, checking her watch. "Where on earth is he?"
The conversation with David Washburn had gone well. After Joanna had explained to him what they were trying to find out, he was happy to help, but he insisted on coming over to use their computer to do it.
"I can't afford any electronic trail to my machine," he had explained. "I'm on informal probation after slipping some porno shots onto the Defense Department web page with the caption Make • love not war. Unfortunately, the Feds were less than
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