The Judas Contact (Boomers Book 1) (14 page)

“You’re on speaker,” Rex confirmed, although the hollow echo over the phone line told him that.

“Thank you. You were saying, Doctor Blaine?”

“From what I can tell from Garrett’s chip and the brief look I got at Rex’s, they used DNA to prevent rejection and organic circuitry so the chips would stay in place. That makes sense considering, by my estimation, they were implanted some sixty odd years ago in your biological history.”

An interesting turn of phrase.
Their biological history was chronological for them, but not for the doctor. “All right. So why would that make sense to you?”

“Because the microchips I use are insulated, but they will begin to break down over time. The body’s natural defenses attacked the earlier models, rendering them almost useless within one year. The blood/brain barrier helps to lengthen the life span of a chip, but the longest I have managed to use an implanted one was three years. I implanted it when Max was a puppy. Fortunately, the breakdown never caused any kind of permanent damage. Max is also my most successful dog. Even after the chip ceased functioning in him, he responded to the command that chip provided. The last test was about six months ago. I dropped him off six blocks from ‘home’ and he came straight back there. No deviations. My working theory is that the chips could modify behavior, but they would eventually stop working. But those behavioral modifications wouldn’t.”

The explanation made sense, however it was the implied
but
at the end of that sentence that filled Simon with foreboding. He wished he was closer or at least knew her brain patterns better. He could just pluck the information he wanted without having to wait for the clumsy discussion about it.

“But since I can’t physically see the chips, I have to travel a circuitous route to identify the DNA they used and to get a better picture of the organic circuits. The reality is, I may never understand it—not enough to replicate it.” The mild frustration in her voice added another layer of concern.

They didn’t want her to replicate it. Only explain it and perhaps— perhaps—shut them off.

“Doctor Blaine, why does it matter what DNA they used? Wouldn’t they have used our own?” Stem cell research in their time was light years beyond where it was now. In fact, they used stem cells in advanced medical technology, but it also helped develop super soldiers to hunt the resistant heroes like the Boomers. They’d discouraged development of stem cell research at every turn since arriving in the current time.

No one man, or company, should have access to the power those creations provided.

“It matters because they couldn’t have worked with Garrett’s. His blood is toxic. His body chemistry is extremely unfriendly. Trying to harvest DNA from him would have required stem cells. Unless they took samples from you in utero or from cord blood after you were born, they wouldn’t have had enough material to work with.”

Rex said nothing, but Simon heard the swift intake of breath. “What about children of our own?”

“Potentially but, again, not unless they harvested enough genetic material to create the baseline. The reason stem cells work is because they are non-specific and can be repurposed by the body. The circuitry on your chips is highly sophisticated and developed. Maybe they started with stem cells but they worked from the day of implantation, correct?”

As far as Simon could remember. “Correct.”

“Then they couldn’t have been in the developmental stages. They had to be fully formed. Which means compatible DNA—” She broke off and he could hear her walking away. When she spoke again, she sounded much further away. “During the early stages of my work, I noticed in every necropsy a change to the spinal fluid of the dogs implanted with a chip. You could actually see that some of the DNA markers had been altered. It’s a fairly complicated explanation, but when Garrett went down with the shutdown command, I took a sample of his spinal fluid, and yes, I wore full protective gear when I did it. I’ve got it running in one the machines right now. It will take a couple of days to get a full DNA profile. But, at first glance, he has markers. Markers that are different from his own.”

He said nothing, listening to her walk back and flip open some papers. Rex grunted. She must have been showing them to him. “This doesn’t mean anything to me,
chère
. It’s all gobbledygook.”

“Well, then you’ll have to take my word for it.”

“Doctor,” Simon interrupted. “What would it mean if they used someone else’s DNA in the chips?”

She sighed. “It could mean a lot of things.”

“But you’re excited about it, something triggered you onto this path, so what do you think it means?” The scientist appeared very methodical—she tested, she documented, and she re-documented her research. He’d read through reams of her work in the last few days, reviewing the data Rory had downloaded from the hard drive.

“It means that they had to find compatible donors. Genetics are not my area of expertise. But implanting compatible DNA would—could make you more responsive to some individuals. Particularly if you share the same markers. Look, I don’t want to speculate. Michael and Rory have both agreed to let me test them. I’ll use spinal fluid markers from Michael and type match them against Rory. If I’m right, then they’re going to have similarities…”

“You think Michael’s chip is based on Rory’s DNA, somehow.” It was a leap. A huge leap. But it would explain Michael’s near primal reaction to her, his fierce devotion and inability to think beyond her safety when they first met. While his cognition seemed to be returning to normal, the relationship and bond they shared grew stronger.

“It’s one explanation.” A healthy dose of skepticism colored the words, but Simon heard what she didn’t say. It was the only explanation she had. Unfortunately, the science and techniques that allowed the chips to be implanted in them were decades off. She was navigating a scientific labyrinth based only on supposition and hypothesis rooted in what she knew now.

“Keep me appraised, doctor. Rex, let me know the minute Garrett wakes up.”

“Of course.”

“You got it.” Rex’s response tripped over Ilsa’s, but he shut the call down and turned his chair to look at the monitors. They’d been recording R.E.X.’s tenth floor activity for over twenty-four hours. He had a lot of listening to catch up on. So far the equipment flagged over ten instances of Doctor Blaine’s name.

He would listen to those segments first.

* * * *

“Maybe you should get some sleep,
chère
.” Rex leaned against the table in the center of the lab. The lean build of the man was deceptive. He’d lifted Garrett with a disturbing amount of effortlessness. He’d carried him up, stripped down his uniform and got him squared away. He also decontaminated the clothes and the secure room in the lab.

“No. I need answers so that, when he wakes up, he doesn’t crush another phone.” She needed answers for both of them. She had no idea why the shut down command worked. Logically, it shouldn’t have. How did chips she’d designed for dogs, programmed to help animals, evolve into bio-chemical circuits laid against a biological motherboard and implanted in their brains? She just couldn’t wrap her mind around it.

Every time she tried, it gave her a headache.

“He’s not going to be angry at you,
chère
. He might be a bit tetched that I’m here, but he won’t be angry with you.”

She pulled on gloves and glanced over at the Cajun. “You seem pretty sure about that.”

“He likes you. He also seems to respect you. He’s not the most patient of men, but he is patient about you and your work. He hasn’t let any of us in here.” That was news to her. She hadn’t even realized they’d wanted to come.

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “Didn’t know that, eh?”

“No. I didn’t. But it doesn’t change anything.” She ignored the flutter of excitement in her belly. Garrett was the perfect lab partner. He let her work, didn’t chatter, only interrupted when she needed to sleep or eat, and he never grew impatient with her questions. She looked through the microscope but, instead of the slide below, she saw him standing in the door to her room.
Raw. Naked.

Vulnerable.

Her palms had itched to trace over his sculpted body. Even the harsh relief cast in backlight from the lamps in the hallway couldn’t have detracted from the rugged features, the hard muscles, or the skin that had looked so smooth. The harsh exhale of relief that had echoed in her ears as he’d pivoted and stalked away, revealing a tight ass that rippled with every step.

She lifted her gaze from the microscope and counted to ten. Lust was not the point of this study, answers were. He needed answers.

She wanted to be the one who gave them to him. She wanted to be right, too. She wanted to be absolutely right about the DNA.

“Doc, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Rex was at her elbow and she looked up at him with a start.

“Don’t do that.”

“What? Talk?” His eyebrows lifted in surprise.

“No. Sneak up on me like that.” Her pulse picked up the pace and she forced herself to take longer, deeper breaths. She needed to focus.

Rex held up his hands. “My apologies.”

“Can you call Michael and Rory? I need those samples.” She wanted to test her theory on them first but, if it took too long, she had another idea. One Garrett would really not approve of. Better to do it before he woke up.

The Spartan analyzer would take thirty minutes to give her rough results. The Smart Cycler could take hours beyond that, and weeks for a full comprehensive breakdown.

“They’re here.” He jerked his thumb to the door. She twisted and saw tall, dark, and brooding following Rory down the stairs. Rory flashed a grin and, three steps later, enfolded Ilsa in a tight hug. She returned it, surprised by the fierceness of emotion fisting in her chest. She wasn’t the most tactile of individuals, but Garrett hadn’t touched her except to keep her from touching him.

Had it really only been five days since she saw her last? She seemed different. More aggressive in both her hug and her expression. “Hey, thanks for coming.” Ilsa tried to include Michael in that, but his too blue eyes and hard stare weren’t comforting at all.

“Of course. Are you okay?” Rory caught her left arm and lifted the bandaged wrist for examination. Ilsa had taped it up herself, glad it was done before Rex arrived. The black, blue and purple striations were ugly. But she’d x-rayed it and saw no broken pieces. Just a bad sprain.

“I’m fine. Just clumsy.” She shrugged off the concern and backed up a step. She’d changed from her tank tops and shorts back into serviceable pants, a button down shirt, and a white lab coat. It seemed odd that she’d had no trouble working in cut offs and tanks when it was just her and Garrett, but the others made her nervous.

“What do you need from us?” Michael asked, cutting through the awkward silence.

“Spinal fluid from you and blood from Rory. And yes, the spinal tap will hurt.” She tried to inject an apology into that statement. She’d done the spinal on Garrett while he was out, thankfully sparing him that discomfort. Michael nodded, stripping off a vest that hit the table with such a loud thunk it had to be armored. He stripped off his shirt and Rory whistled playfully.

Like Garrett, he was all corded muscle and sinew. His chest, abdominals, and arms were tightly packed, rippling with every motion. Rex yawned and smirked. “Just don’t start having sex in here, I don’t think the doc wants to see, and I know I don’t.”

Mortified, Ilsa jerked a look at the Cajun. “Why would they…?”

“Oh trust me. They have a hard time not doing it. It’s healthy though. Makes the Captain less bitchy.” He grinned again, seemingly oblivious to Michael’s scowl and Rory’s middle finger.

“Yes, well, I’m sure they can handle this.” She turned away from the threesome to strip off one set of gloves and don a fresh, sterilized pair. “You’ll need to lie down for this and tuck your knees up to your chest. I also need you to not move while I do the extraction.” It had been a lot easier for her to do Garrett’s when he’d been unconscious and unresponsive. Spinal taps hurt.

A lot.

She found the syringes and needles she would need and put together the rest of her supplies. When she turned again, Michael lay on his side on an exam table, Rory immediately in front of him. They held hands.

Ilsa’s heart squeezed. Rory’s face was close to Michael’s and they murmured, but it was how their hands interlocked that held her rigid. Michael stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. The man seemed so much larger than she, but he was perfectly calm, steady almost, and the closeness ripped open an ache she hadn’t realized was there.

“Like this?” Rory glanced up and met her eyes. There was something steely reflected in her violet depths, a resolute strength that wouldn’t bend for anyone. Despite years of friendship, Ilsa realized that Rory would do anything for this man, and he for her. She needed to tread lightly.

“Yes. Perfect.” She cleared her throat and went for a clinical tone. Distance would help them all, particularly since she didn’t like inflicting pain. “I’m going to touch you with two fingers and show you where I’ll be inserting the needle. I can use a local, but that will take some time to take effect and it won’t really help. It’s a lot of pressure, a little like a white hot poker being inserted. It won’t take me long to get a sample, but you have to stay completely still.”

“I understand, doctor. Rex, keep an eye on her and don’t let either of us beat her up.” His tone was light, but carried an undercurrent of threat.

“You got it, Captain.” As directed, the Cajun came over and positioned himself near Michael’s head, but he kept his hands on the exam table. “You’re good, doc. Just do what you need to do.”

Exhaling between her teeth, she worked her fingers down his spine to locate the correct two vertebrae. They had the most space, and the least chance of crippling him or causing more pain than necessary. “On a count of three, two, one…” she inserted the needle. The man didn’t move and she focused her attention completely on getting the needle in, unscrewing the seal and drawing out the fluid.