Specimen(95)

“He won’t be able to locate the right drug.”

“I will if you program it into me.”

Riley looks like she’s about to break down, and I don’t know what to say. I have no idea what to do. I’m the logical choice—the only choice—but I can’t stand to see her so upset.

“They’ll be able to locate you.” Her voice drops lower and she doesn’t meet my gaze.

I turn in my chair and reach over to take both her hands in mine. I stare into her eyes, trying to fathom the notion that I could do her harm in some way if I don’t get that drug.

There is no choice.

“It has to be me, Riley.”





Chapter 24


The next few days are spent moving to Carson City and planning a raid on Mills Pharmco. I make the argument that I should go it alone, but there are two checkpoints to pass before reaching the facility itself. The CA intelligence people don’t trust me on my own, and we are going to need people at each checkpoint in order to be successful.

We make our final plans in a small meeting room at the head government office in Carson City. Aside from the usual group, there are new people here, and the room is nearly full.

“We have two of our intelligence people able to assist,” Merle tells the group. “Elissa Garden is relatively new but working in a border patrol facility near Marra—a small town close to the border. Most of the team will stop there as Galen moves on to Milton. Taylor Wick, who has been operating in the area for three years now, will be at the second checkpoint. He has access to multiple areas and will direct Galen around the Milton city limits.”

Merle and Donald Cross go over the details as I take it all in. My head has been infused with much of the information, and I’m confident I can get the job done. Riley isn’t happy with the whole situation, but she knows I need the drug, and this is the only way to get it.

A tall, lanky woman enters the room as we’re discussing the particulars of the mission. She’s in her late fifties, dressed in a sharp suit, and walks with squared shoulders.

“So it’s true,” the woman says. “We are harboring Dr. Riley Grace.”

She strides up to the table and shakes hands with Riley.

“I’m Dr. Emma Charles.”

“Your name sounds familiar,” Riley says as she clasps the woman’s hand briefly.

“We’ve met before,” Dr. Charles says. “You were very young then.”

“You knew my father.” Riley places her hand over her mouth and blinks a few times. “You worked with the synthetics group.”

“I was the head of the synthetics group.” She tilts her head as she makes the distinction. “While your father was off chatting with all the bluebloods funding our projects, I was doing the actual work.”

The smile on her face is genuine, and she means no ill will in her statement. Riley smiles as well, nodding her head emphatically for a moment but then frowning.

“I remember,” she says. “But wait, I thought you were killed. There was a monorail incident—a fire in your compartment.”

“Faking my own death was the only way to avoid it.” Dr. Charles sits down near Merle. “When your father was assassinated, I dug a little deeper than I should.”

Riley stiffens beside me, and I tense along with her. She quickly wets her lips and looks pointedly at Dr. Charles.

“You believed what they told you,” Dr. Charles says gently. “Most everyone did.”

“He was assassinated by those who didn’t support his viewpoints,” Riley says. “At least, that’s what I was told.”

“As was I.” She clasps her hand on the table. “But something happened two weeks before his death—something I couldn’t ignore.”

“What?”

“We were close, your father and I.” Her smile turns sad. “We worked together for so long, how could we not be? We talked to each other, confided in each other. When he discovered civilians living in Mills occupied territories were being experimented on against their will, he started collecting evidence to take to the Mills administration. I don’t know who found out what he was doing, but he was designated a threat to the Mills Conglomerate.”

“They had him killed.”

“Not only would it keep him quiet, but blaming the act on the Carson Alliance turned him into a martyr for the cause.”

“How did that make you a target? Did you confront them?”

“No.” Dr. Charles takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I was digging deeper into it, using his notes as a jumping-off point. One day, I came into my office, and the notes had been removed from my locked desk drawer. I knew they would be coming for me soon.”