"The Transgenic Falcon"
Chapter Twenty-Three

My warm glow lasted all the way through my saying good-bye and ducking through the little door back into the main lab, where I was met by Dr. Ferguson. Her expression was pinched and her scowl could have stripped the finish off of chromed steel.

“What the fuck do you think you were doing?” she hissed through clenched jaws.

“Being polite to my hosts, you might have heard of the concept? Or maybe not.”

“You gave them gum! It’s never been tested! We don’t even know the ingredients; you just took a huge risk with important and expensive product!”

No man likes to be yelled at by an attractive (though hard and a little scary) woman, but she managed to jump up and down on a button I didn’t even know I had until it was pressed.

“People!” I snapped back, “They are people, not products!”

Ferguson glared at me in a mix of contempt and pity.

“Products, Mr. Hunt. They have been designed, created and trained. They are biological machines, and if they have some features that simulate human interactions, they are only there to make it easier to work with them. They are not people.”

“You keep telling yourself that, I am sure it helps you sleep at night.” I pointed to the little door, “What you have in there are sentient beings. They have more potential than you think, and a hell of a lot more heart!”

Ferguson is not the only one who can push people’s buttons and I must have hit a huge one because she took a big step forward and might have actually hit me if Belinda hadn’t stepped between us and overwhelmed us with her amazingly loud voice.

“That’s enough from both of you!”

Belinda put a hand in the middle of my chest and gave me a solid shove backwards. While I was recovering my balance she whirled to face Ferguson.

“Are you a senior research fellow or not?”

“You know I am.”

“Then bloody well act like it! This kind of behavior is enough to make me think strongly of telling Mr. Johnson that you are not the right person to be in charge of such an important project. Is that what you want?”

It must have been a significant fear for Ferguson because the Ice Queen was visibly shocked. I had to give Simone her due though, she pulled herself together and projected the haughtiness that I’d come to expect from her.

“Very well, Ms. Morris, as the Chief Scientist on this project I am formally informing you that Mr. Hunt will no longer have access to the Eolin-I. He has broken several protocols and taken risks that are unacceptable. Please take him away so my team and I can begin assessing how to fix the problems he’s created with our product.”

I knew she’d used the word product purposefully to set me off and I was ready to oblige when Belinda said, “Agreed, we’ll be leaving now.” and snagged my bicep in a firm grip propelling the two of us out of the lab and into the hallway.

Menudo is wonderful stuff, but it’s not magic. The adrenalin surge through my system washed away whatever active ingredient cures hangovers. Mine came back in the form of a headache like a spike through my forehead. This did exactly nothing to improve my mood.

I shrugged out of Belinda’s death grip and considered going back in to the lab for another few rounds with Ferguson. Luckily what little of my reason and self-control I had left kept me from it. Instead, I stomped quickly down the hall towards our temporary office. Belinda trailed behind.

By the time I hit the office door, I’d managed to cool my anger out of the white-hot range all the way down to bubbling lava. My face must have shown it because both of the quants cringed when they saw me burst into the office. I took a few deep breaths, trying to wash the adrenalin out of my system.

Instead of scaring the poor boys more, I walked over to where Lynn Delfor sat, headphones on, her cheeks rather flush.

She hit pause and slipped off her headphones as I came around the desk. Some woman I’d never seen before was frozen mid-writhe as she straddled Cho’s hips.

“How’s it going?”

“Whew! Dr. Cho was into some pretty hot stuff,” Lynn said with a naughty grin, “It’s been a real education.”

At that point Belinda came in to the main office.

“Eamon, we need to talk.”

“Not now,” I snapped, not as in control of my anger as I’d hoped. “Lynn is giving me a report. C’mon Lynn, lets go in the other office.”

Delfor rose looking about as happy as a ten year-old caught between arguing parents, but she followed me.

So did Belinda and she shut the door behind her and then leaned on it, arms crossed over her chest. She had a stony look on her face; one I knew from our shared past. Short of a military intervention or God herself, nothing was going to move her.

I went behind my borrowed desk, trying to give myself a little psychological space. Delfor sat down in the visitor’s chair.

I avoided looking at Belinda, if she wanted to be in this meeting, fine, but that didn’t mean I had to pander to her.

“So, what progress have you made?”

Delfor shot a sidelong look at Belinda and I knew that she’d seen the files of her and Cho, but at this point I didn’t care anymore. I gave her a nod and she took a deep breath, then began to report.

“So, given the number of files to watch I thought I’d start with people we know had contact with Cho recently. For the most part they are pretty repetitive, the good doctor had a few favorite kinks, and he practiced them regularly.”

I didn’t look at Belinda. I figured her face would be flaming by now, but she’d run out of time to tell me on her own about her relationship with Cho. Its hell when someone you once cared for lets you down like that.

“Did anything stand out?”

Delfor nodded, “Simone Ferguson, obviously given the whole dominatrix thing, she’s the only one that went that way.”

“Really? What about the most recent tryst with O’Neil? She told us she found out what Ferguson did and made a play for Cho along those lines.”

“Yep, that’s true. Though she obviously wasn’t practiced at it, not nearly as dominant.”

“Not as good with the riding crop?”

“No. She didn’t use anything like that. She wore this weird full-body translucent latex suit. They never actually had intercourse, either. She just tied him up and kind of rubbed up and down on him, made him suck her covered fingers and toes, that kind of thing. Then finished with a hand-job, but that’s not what made this stand out.”

I waited a beat, but Lynn is a gossip and they like to be promoted, probably to know that they still have their audience’s attention.

“Then what did make it stand out?”

“What she said. You’ve seen some of the files, right?”

I nodded.

“Well, then you know Cho wasn’t big on talk, but that time O’Neil talked up a storm. All this stuff about how they would be together again, how she could give him what he needed and he didn’t have to stoop to sluts like Ferguson. Her words, the last bit.”

“How’d Cho react to that?”

Delfor shrugged.

“He was a little distracted at the time, but it didn’t seem to put him off, if you know what I mean.”

I did. So O’Neil’s story checked out. Another dead end.

“Anything else?”

Lynn had that pained look on her face again. I was afraid I knew what it was, but couldn’t keep myself from scratching at it.

“You’ve got something, spit it out,” I told her. Yeah, I’m a coward. I was making poor Lynn do what neither Belinda or I was willing to do. She shot a look at Belinda, then back to me, but I gave her a neutral face. She shrugged.

“Ms. Morris is on several of files, has she told you?”

Give Delfore her due; she managed to get the issue out without looking like she’d swallowed a bullfrog. I wished I could do the same, but no joy.

“Yeah, I knew.”

I looked over at Belinda who was still standing by the door. Her amazing gray-green eyes held a confusing mixture of expressions. Pain, hope, pride, anger and what might have been a plea for understanding cycled through them in an instant, then they settled into what had to be Belinda’s version of cop-eyes, hard, bright and giving away nothing.

“Lynn, why don’t you go back to your work,” I suggested, “Belinda and I should probably talk this out in private.”

Delfore left the room with only a single eyebrow-raised look to check if I knew what I was doing. I didn’t, of course, but there was no point in letting on at this late date. I nodded silently and she was out of the office like a shot.

The door closed behind her, leaving Belinda and I to stare at each other for a few seconds. She pushed off the wall, walked over to the desk and slid into the chair Lynn had just abandoned.

Belinda stayed silent, giving me her blank face, waiting on me to make the first move, just like she had been doing all day. This time it didn’t make me sad, it made me angry, the kind of angry where you say and do things you knew were wrong, but didn’t care. Until later, that is.

“So, were you ever going to say anything or did the best case seem to be to play dumb until you were outed?”

“I was still trying to decide. There were no good options, but I was hoping to replace a way to tell you.”

“Well, it’s too damned late for that.”

“Oh, so we’re going to have the wounded ex conversation, is that it? What did you think Eamon, that I’d kept my legs crossed in the ten years since you and I were a thing? That I was pining away for you and couldn’t think of other men?”

It was the verbal equivalent of a Kung-Fu master giving a beckoning gesture. The signal that we could go at this hammer and tongs, vent all our anger, shame (in her case) and frustration in a blaze of harsh words. Part of me wanted to give in to the familiar pattern of our relationship, but she’d missed the mark. While I was a little hurt and jealous, it wasn’t the sex that set me off, or at least not completely the sex.

“No, I never thought you’d stay away from other men. But I did think that you’d tell me the truth, however uncomfortable, if you showed up as a possible suspect in a murder! I don’t give a shit about what you did with who, but you lied by omission just as much as Simone Ferguson did. How am I supposed to trust my point of contact with Gen-Tech after something like that?”

She leaned back and gave me a cynical smile. I couldn’t help but notice how gorgeous she was yet again. It only stoked my anger when I realized it was probably a tactic.

“Don’t be a child, Eamon; you know I’m not the killer.”

“I don’t know any such thing!” I said and slapped the desk with the flat of one hand, making Belinda jump a little. “You’re Johnson’s chief fixer. If you killed Cho, you could be sure that he’d have you riding crisis management on the investigation. You would be in a position to take the investigation out of Rounds hands and give it over to an unorthodox detective. One who just happens to be an old lover. Someone you could spin around, point in false directions, and generally make sure that the blame didn’t fall on you.”

I could see my words sinking in. It’s never a pleasant thing to have the bits of a frame for murder constructed around you, especially to your face. It was hurting her, but at that point I couldn’t have cared less.

“And why would I do that? For that matter why would I want to kill Dr. Cho?”

“Maybe he was threatening to make the files public. I know he was having some kind of power struggle with Johnson. That’s why Round and he were having a yelling fight. Or maybe it was all part of a plan to knock Johnny Round out of Otho’s good graces. And it was just gravy to get Cho and his files out of the way.”

Adrenalin was singing through my system again, bringing the hellacious headache of the hangover back with it. I felt like someone had filled my sinuses with drain cleaner. But it also felt good to be mad, to be able to strike out at this entire case, in the form of Belinda Morris. Yeah, it felt good, but smart it was not.

“Maybes, I’m hearing a lot of maybes. I might not be a detective, but I know you have to have proof to make a charge stick.”

I laughed, I shouldn’t have, and it was a nasty laugh. But we were to a point where Belinda didn’t know everything, and her naivety was shocking as it was common.

“No, you are not a detective, or else you’d know that it isn’t about what’s true with the law. It’s about what can be proven to twelve reasonable people. After hearing about the tape and how you resisted coming forward, well, it starts to make you look as guilty as poor Mick Taylor.”

“If you think I did it, why don’t you just ask me?”

“Did you kill Dr. Cho or know anything about who did that you haven’t mentioned?”

“No” Belinda said simply, with direct eye-contact, “I didn’t kill Cho and all I know about this case I’ve learned while with you.”

I’ve seen people lie, a lot of the time I can tell. You get to know the signs, and it just comes through. Still there are people who can lie without a single tell. People who make you believe what you want to believe; even if you have doubts. Belinda had just spoken like that. I sighed and stood up.

“You know, twenty-four hours ago, even six hours ago, I’d have believed you. Now? I just have too many doubts to take your word for it. You did that.”

She stood, now truly angry too.

“Give me a break! You know me, Eamon! You know I’m not capable of this!”

I should have agreed. I should have told her I believed her, that she had always been my Angel. I should have done all of it, but I didn’t.

“The person I knew ten years ago, yeah, I know she couldn’t do something like that. But the person in front of me? I have no idea what she’s capable of.”

It was one of those moments when you let something lose, and instantly you wish you could call it back. The words flipped between us like a thrown knife and actually caused Belinda to take a step back, and her shoulders to slump, just as if she had been stabbed.

I was still mad, but now I was raging mad at myself. There is never a situation so bad that you can’t make it worse by running your mouth. You’d think I’d know that well enough by now to avoid it. You’d be wrong.

The room was suddenly too small, too hot. I had to get out of there, away from Belinda’s pained and accusing eyes. I started for the door, desperate to escape the situation.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to clear my head; I’m going to take a walk.”

“Good, I’ll come with you.”

I whirled to face her, a hard glare in my eyes.

“You are part of what I need to get out of my head! So stay here and I’ll be back.”

Belinda drew herself up. She might be still bleeding from the old wounds we’d just ripped open, but she was also a hard-edged trouble shooter and not one to take challenges to her authority lightly, or at all.

“Well, that’s too bad, Mr. Hunt. Part of your contract with Gen-Tech is that I go where you go inside this building. If you have a problem with that, you will simply have to suck it up.”

I ground my teeth, my mind seething.

“Then I’ll walk the fucking outside of the building! I’m sure there are plenty of cameras you can watch me on, that’ll take care of the contract. You just stay the hell away from me and out of my eyes for a while!”

I flung the door open and stalked out into the outer office. Three sets of startled eyes were on me. Obviously we’d been loud enough to hear. It pissed me off more.

“Get back to work!” I bellowed, the quants ducking their heads back to their screens. Delfor was a little slower, her eyes aglitter with the joy of fresh and tasty gossip. Damn her.

I stomped out the outer door and into the hall, a cloud of black rage hovering over my head.

Have you ever been in a rage before? I don’t mean angry. Angry is something that happens on a regular basis. I mean a state of mind where every input is further grist for the mill of hatred. That was the mood I was in as I stormed down the halls of Gen-Tech. I wasn’t thinking. I was just hating.

I hated the long hall. I hated the people who gave me fearful glances. I hated waiting at the elevator, and I damned well hated the perfectly clean, shiny interior of the elevator as it took me to the lobby.

I hated that Belinda didn’t follow me, I hated that I wanted her to do it, and I hated myself for my lack of control. But none of it slowed me down.

I hit the gorgeous green of the living lobby and hated every bit of it as well. If all that wonder and beauty came at the price of a place like Gen-Tech and the people in it, then it was a net evil for the world. All that beauty was false, fake and faithless. It was hollow, a painted façade to lull people into acceptance.

No one stepped in my way as I hit the exit, blinded by the mid-day sun and enveloped by the monsoon-level humidity. As my eyes tried to adjust, I could hear the protesters on either side of me. A voice called out.

“Have you seen them?”

I turned to my right and saw the speaker, a middle aged woman, her stingy hair, limp with sweat. Her clothes were drab, washed-out and ill-fitting. She was holding a sign that said “Genetic Engineering is the Devil’s Work!!!”

“Did you see them?” she asked again. “You’ve been inside; did you see the sub-human monsters?”

It took me a second to realize she meant the Eolin-I. I can’t say why I walked over to her, but I did. A very nasty smile painted itself over my face.

“You know, I have seen sub-human monsters today,” I began and her face and the faces around her started to respond with joy. It didn’t last long. “In fact, I’m talking to one right this minute.”

Not the smartest thing to do, but I think we’ve established I wasn’t thinking very clearly at that point.

The reaction from the god-bothers was instant and violent. At least twenty of them surged to the small portable fence delineating their protest area and pushed it right over. The two security guys didn’t have a chance, they vanished under the crowd. Hard eyes and hard fists were headed my way in seconds.

A brief word on starting a fight with a large and mostly unhinged crowd: Don’t. That’s all, just don’t. I know it seems like something that should go without saying, but if I can replace myself in that position, you never know if you might. Avoid it at all costs.

I was already spun up, adrenalin pumping, heart rate high; in short ready for a fight. It made exactly no difference when facing those odds. I took a step back, clenching my fists, and picked my target; a beefy guy with a sweat-stained straw cowboy hat. I hit him right on the point of his chin, snapping his head around and glazing his eyes with the pulse of blood to his brain. Yea me!

Then in quick succession, someone slammed their fist into one eye, while a couple of his or her friends went for my ribs. Some other helpful soul put their knee into the back of mine and I was ridden to the ground by a few hundred pounds of angry protesters.

From that point all I could do was curl up and wrap my arms around my head, trying to protect the most vulnerable bits. The pain was remarkable, blows raining down from all angles, fists and feet all hitting where they could.

The noise of the rabid crowd had been huge. But as I lay there, it seemed to doubled again. For a second or two there were less blows landing on me. I started to be curious about it when a boot heel found my forehead and I spun down into blackness.