S.W. Tanpepper's GAMELAND: Season Two Omnibus (Episodes 9-11) (54 page)

The government had been the original owners of the Laroda Island research facility, intentionally situating it on the tiny northeasternmost spit of land on Long Island, far from prying eyes. The nature of their work had never been fully disclosed to the public, but following a series of scandals in the early twenties, they'd eventually shuttered its doors and moved on. Ownership of the buildings had transferred for a time to the Carcher group, and the facility had remained vacant for another five years before Ramon and Lyssa bought it lock, stock, and barrel for what seemed like a steal.

From the start, they knew it would be a challenge finding qualified talent. The roads to Laroda were questionable, sometimes blocked by fallen tree branches, other times partially washed out. And then there was the allure of better pay and opportunities at the more centrally located Brookhaven Research Institute. But after sending out advertisements for weeks and receiving only two applicants, Lyssa and Ramon finally realized it was going to be a lot harder than they'd thought.

Her first and only other interview had been with a greasy-haired, pimply-faced kid who looked barely old enough to have graduated high school, much less have a doctorate in molecular genetics. The kid had leered at her throughout the entire session in a way that left her feeling terribly uncomfortable. “We'll be in contact,” she told him, heaving a sigh of relief when the front door swung shut as he left. She made Ramon call him with the news he hadn't made the cut.

Drew, on the other hand, she hired on the spot, despite any misgivings she might have about his true intentions.

For weeks, she fretted he'd leave them. He was certainly qualified enough to find work at Brookhaven. And the research she was doing — improving beef and dairy production in cows using perinatal genetic engineering — wasn't the sexy kind of stuff she knew their peers were all doing elsewhere. But he never expressed a single word of regret or acted like he was thinking about going elsewhere. Eventually, Lyssa grew so used to having him around in the lab, bouncing ideas and banter off of each other, that now she couldn't imagine him not being there.

There were days when she'd see him at his desk at the end of the day, his face illuminated by the blue glow of his computer screen, and she'd tell him to go home. She knew he wasn't averse to sleeping on the floor in his office — one couldn't miss the rolled up sleeping bag shoved into the kneehole of his desk — yet at the same time she also knew he didn't have family to go home to, no wife or children. None that he'd ever spoken of, anyway. She knew he lived alone in a small apartment not five miles from the main Brookhaven facility, somewhere close to where Ramon had moved into.

The early days at Laroda had been tight, but the lab was finally beginning to make a profit, partially because of the exorbitant rent Ramon charged the Ames Research Consortium — a rather misleading name given that the group was small, disorganized, and poorly managed — as well as the grant the Dairy Farmer's Association had given them. Drew's take-home pay was several steps below what comparable Brookhaven scientists received, and yet Lyssa still had to practically force him to take his yearly raises.

Lyssa swept into her office and stopped short. “Damn, forgot my notebook in the lab.”

“I'll get it and meet you in the conference room.”

“You chickenshit,” she teased. He was leaving her to face Ramon alone.

Drew laughed and waved good-naturedly as he turned.

Lyssa watched him head back down the hall.
There's a man perfectly comfortable in his skin
, she thought to herself.

She plucked her cell phone from the desk and quickly checked to see if Cassie or the nanny had called. They hadn't. They never did. But while the absence of any news always left her feeling uneasy, each time it happened, she felt the urge to call them lessen just a little bit.

She'd struggled to concentrate after returning from her leave. When not obsessing over Remy's death, she was distracted by thoughts of Cassie getting injured, or sick, or lost. That day she'd hit the possum had been a turning point of sorts, shocking her into realizing that she needed to move on or else be forever drowning in self remorse over what had happened.

Forcing herself to leave her phone in her office while she was in the lab so she could get some work done was one small step. It hadn't been easy at first, but now she was glad she did it. She was finally able to focus on her work again.

Coffee mug and phone in hand, she made her way to the conference room where she found Ramon. With the exception of Drew, the rest of their small cadre of employees was already present. The low murmur of chatter stopped as she walked in.

“Drew's on his way,” she explained nervously.

She sat down in one of the empty chairs with an explosive sigh, then took a sip of the cold coffee and grimaced. Her husband, the lab's operations director, paced at the front of the room. Lyssa watched him warily, trying to gauge his mood, but he was always so hard to read. She couldn't tell if he'd just gotten good news, bad, or no news at all.

A moment later, Drew hurried in and sat across the table. He slid the notebook across with a wink.

“Good, we're all here,” Ramon said. He sat down. “I do have one administrative item to go over before we get to the real reason for this meeting.” He looked up and around at the faces surrounding the table. “I just got a letter from the Health Department reminding us about the rabies boosters. My records show a couple of you are past due. Travis, Sudha . . . . It's important we all remain up-to-date on those. Since we work with both rats and cattle, we need to be sure we're all properly inoculated against potential diseases.”

Drew nodded and volunteered to make sure everyone was caught up by the end of the following week.

“Why so long?”

“Our serum is expired. It'll take a week to get a new batch from the state.”

“Good. Onto the other thing then.” He passed his fingers through his hair and took in a deep breath. “I had a conference call this morning with Ames, their director of scientific projects.”

Several eyebrows raised around the table. “Ted Gundy?” asked Amanda Hawke, a research associate and one of their more chatty employees. Gundy was the leader of the group occupying the space across the hall.

Ramon shook his head. “Their parent group, some investment trust in Manhattan.”

“Investment trust?” Amanda asked, looking impressed. “Well, that explains how they can afford—”

She snapped her mouth shut, her face turning red at the mistake.

But Ramon didn't seem to notice. He'd dug into his pocket and extracted his phone and was scrolling through it. “Not Ted, but some guy named . . . Padraig Harrison. VP of Research and Development and such-and-such.” He flicked a hand, as if to imply the exact name and title weren't important. “Anyway—”

“What do they want?” Lyssa asked. “Are they pulling out?” She felt herself beginning to panic. Without that rent money, how were they going to pay their bills? How were they going to pay salaries? She glanced around the room and imagined having to tell people they were being let go. She didn't think she'd be able to do it. She'd give up her own salary first.

“No, actually, they want to do more with us. Lots more. They have a new project and they want to collaborate.”

A loud cough interrupted the discussion. Sudha stood up, her face red and her fist pressed into her mouth. She hurried for the door, stifling the urge to cough some more until she'd exited. They could hear her for several seconds, a wet, purulent sound that made many in the room cringe. “She hasn't been feeling well,” Drew explained.

“Collaborate?” Lyssa asked, turning back to Drew. “Here? Are you sure that's wise? The Ames people already here are reckless, irresponsible—”

“This'll be a different group. Plus, I've asked for more oversight. They agreed it would be wise.”

“But we don't do cybernetics work, Rame.”

“Of course not. But this is in our wheelhouse. They're interested in testing new synthetic biopolymers for their implants, and they want to tap into our expertise with animal models.”

“Implants? As in the neural devices they use to control the convicts and the tower work crews?”

Ramon nodded. “Exactly. They want to test sensitivity to a new coating material. They'll be sending a small team of scientists. They asked if we could start next week.”

“
More
people, Rame? That sounds like less control, not more. We're already on notice for those vials they misplaced. The Health Department's breathing down our necks. And do we really want to collaborate on work which some people think is unethical?”

“Some people think what we're doing in cattle is unethical.” He dismissed her argument. “I have my own concerns, which is why I asked them to hand over the reagents to us. We'll be the ones doing the actual studies. They'll just provide guidance and collect results to report back to their investors.”

“More work,” Lyssa grumbled. “I've already got too much to do now.”

“It won't be too much to begin with. I've already handed over a few things to Drew.”

Lyssa shot Drew a questioning look. He shrugged in reply.

“Drew can write up an experimental design and collect the necessary standard operating procedures. After you review and sign off on the packet, we'll turn it over to the animal techs to do the studies. All I need you to do, Lyssa, is oversee the setup and analytical work.”

“And behavioral studies, and neurological stud—”

“No, none of that,” he cut her off. “They're only interested in systemic responses, allergic reactions, tissue rejection, that sort of thing. We'll do the basic blood panels, histamine counts, cytometry for lymphocytes.”

“Why not let Brookhaven do some? They're better equipped.”

He shook his head. “In-house only. The bulk of the work will come when we harvest tissues to look for hyperimmune responses, but that won't be for a few more weeks.”

“Oh, is that all? What am I supposed to do with the PGE project?” She dropped her hands onto the table and exhaled in frustration. “You know I'm swamped.”

“And how is the perinatal project going, by the way?”

Lyssa flicked her eyes at Drew again. “Well, we've managed to increase protein production in tissue culture.”

“Excellent! We've got pregnant cows at the Farm ready to be inoculated. Just hand over the injection protocols and—” He stopped when he saw the look on her face. “What?”

“The cells are dying within a day of infection. They're bricking up.”

“How?”

“I haven't had time to run the analysis yet. It could be replication, though Drew doesn't think so. But if we inject now it'll probably kill the calf fetuses. And possibly the mothers. We need to better characterize what we've got before moving into cows.”

“We should at least test in rabbits first,” Drew offered.

Ramon frowned at them for a moment, then stared down at the surface of the table. He swept his hand across it, although there was nothing there. After a moment, he straightened and said, “No. We all knew that perinatal genetic engineering was a long shot.”

Lyssa gasped. “You're shutting me down? Rame, the grant money—”

“Is spent. It's gone, Lyssa. And without results, the Dairy Council is unlikely to renew.”

The room went still and silent. Lyssa could feel everyone's eyes on her, perhaps expecting her to break down and cry. Or invoke Remy's name. Or rush out of the room.

“We're close,” she quietly said. “I just need another week.”

Ramon leaned back in his chair and cleared his throat. “Guys, can I have a moment with Lyssa? Alone? Thank you.”

He waited for everyone to file out and the door to shut before opening his mouth to speak. But she beat him to the first word.

“I'm close,” she told him. “Please, Rame. We owe our sponsors that much.”

“I'm not shutting you down,” he told her. “I'm simply asking you to put the project aside for the time being. Ames is willing to pay very well for—”

“Why?”

He stopped, as if startled by the question. “Excuse me?”

“Why us? Why not one of the bigger animal labs? There are a dozen others I can think of off the top of my head. They're better equipped to handle this sort of study.”

He shrugged. “We need the work, honey.”

She shook her head, frowning. “We're equal partners, which means that I have as much say in this as you do. Don't you think there's something strange about this? Who are these people, these investors?”

Ramon stood up. “People with very deep pockets, Lyssa. I suspect they're considering us because they think they've got something big on their hands and they want to keep it a secret as much as possible. They trust that we won't scoop them or sell them out.”

“Because we're small and desperate enough to take their hush money.”

He leaned over the table until their faces were inches apart. “If we play our cards right, we might be able to negotiate a share of whatever it is they have.”

“But the Dairy Council—”

He straightened up again. “Can't even touch how much money this group is offering us. All they're asking for is a little discretion on our part.”

“How much money?”

When he told her, she felt her face go numb. It was everything he'd wanted since they bought the place together and started the lab.

“This could really help stabilize us for a while, Lyssa. It could really help build our reputation as a contract research lab. God knows we could use all the help we can get. We do right by them, we can finally say goodbye to all this crap research and do the innovative type of work we've always dreamed about doing.”