"I don't think natural selection has anything to do with anything that's gone on around here," Remo said, deadpan. "And I think the six dead HETA people would back me up on that."
"There were more deaths?" Judith asked.
Remo nodded grimly. "Last night. With the other two, it's human race, zero-BBQs, eight and counting."
"My God," Judith croaked, aghast. She turned away from Remo. Staring out one of the barred windows along the side of the room, she shook her head in slow horror.
"I'm sure mankind'll be touched you're finally coming around," Remo commented dryly.
"Screw mankind," she groaned. "Where does this leave the BCW project?" She bristled at his look of disgust. "I mean it," she complained. "The brass here is already riding me about the incident with that ditz reporter. The BCW project has been hit with major bad press and HETA sabotage. And to top it all off, I heard from my lawyer this morning. That Tulle twerp is suing me for assault. Can you believe it?"
"You shish kebabbed his carotid with a letter opener," Remo pointed out.
"There are some species that would see that as a mating ritual."
"Only the Klingons," Remo suggested.
She wasn't listening. "I was complimenting that hypocritical toad. Not that any of you males deserve it. There aren't any real men left in this world." She raised her hands before her as she spoke, palms open and fingers unfurled-penitent claws.
Remo was hardly listening. While Dr. Judith White's parts were all in the right place, her personality was more effective than a cold shower. A feminist lament at this juncture merely worked to clinch an already closed deal.
"Tell me when you're finished," he offered blandly. He wasn't even looking at her. He was peering down at the BBQ, trying to decide if it could be a killer. Big, guileless eyes looked back at him.
Still staring out the window, Judith snorted loudly. "You know what's really pathetic? You're the closest thing to a real man I've met in a long time."
"Look harder," he instructed.
Annoyed, she glanced at Remo again. All at once, her hard expression melted. It happened with bizarre rapidity. Something sparked in the back of her green eyes.
"You are a real man, aren't you," she growled. It was not a question. It was a statement of fact.
"I pee standing up." Remo nodded absently.
Judith bit her lower lip in deep concentration. Abruptly, she reached a clumsy hand out for him. Remo was still studying the BBQ when he sensed the hand swinging toward him. He ducked beneath it.
"I'm sorry," he said, forehead furrowed. "When did this turn into our first date?"
She didn't answer. Her hand snapped out again. As before, Remo ducked away. He was astonished to find that he had inadvertently moved directly into the path of her other swinging hand. He ducked out of the way an instant before she could cuff him in the side of the head.
Remo felt the tiniest brush of her fingertips at the ends of his dark hair.
"Let's get physical," she purred playfully.
It was amazing to him that her blow had nearly registered. Remo was long used to the attention he received from the opposite sex. His Sinanju training had made him alluring to women. They sensed he was somehow superior to other men. Like all animals, they wished to breed with the best their race had to offer.
But this time was different than normal. There were none of the "stirring of passion" signals from Judith. Her porcelain skin wasn't flushed. No increased perspiration. Her heartbeat even remained constant.
Remo took a step back, amazement giving way to annoyance.
"Lady, whatever you're on, cut the dose," he groused.
"Don't knock it till you've tried it," she replied. Briefly, Remo wondered if he shouldn't yell to the cops in the next room that there was an attempted rape in progress. It looked as if all the guns, Mace and billy clubs in town wouldn't quell Judith's animal lust.
But just as he thought he'd have to take drastic steps, an anxious face suddenly poked through the doorway at the end of the hall.
"Dr. White, come in here!" the man called urgently. The scientist ducked back inside the second lab.
Judith stopped her advances.
Just like that. Like flipping off a switch. Smoothing the wrinkles in her short skirt, Dr. White spun from Remo. Without a word, she stepped briskly down the hall to the adjoining lab. It was as if the previous three minutes had never happened.
"So that's what it's like to be a White House intern," Remo commented to the lone BBQ.
Not knowing what to make out of what had just occurred, he trailed Judith to the second lab.
As he walked away, Remo failed to notice that the BBQ had backed to the rear of its stall. There was fear in the backs of its sad eyes.
THE WINDOW THROUGH WHICH the HETA commandos had spirited the BBQs two nights before had been boarded up. It was scheduled to be replaced later that afternoon.
Remo noted that the janitorial staff had neglected to pick up all of the traces of broken glass on the floor of the lab. Tiny shards sparkled in dusty corners beneath lab tables and heat registers.
He found Judith and the rest of her white-coated team standing around a twenty-four-inch television that sat on the same shelf as a large coffeemaker. Half-filled mugs littered the shelf.
Remo instantly recognized the man on TV. A bandage covered the letter-opener wound in his neck.
Curt Tulle stood before a podium on which were arranged a dozen microphones, all bearing logos from various local and national news outlets.
"...was not involved. I want to make that absolutely clear," Curt intoned, his expression grave. "Nor was the national HETA organization. This creature was entrusted to us by an anonymous individual after news of the BBQ deaths was made known."
The camera shifted jerkily to one side. Remo spotted the familiar shape of a BBQ standing on a raised platform next to Curt. It chewed unconcernedly as a few camera flashes popped around it.
"They've only got one?" Judith demanded of her staff.
"That's all he's admitting to," said a woman in a white lab coat.
The camera swept dizzyingly back to Curt Tulle. "Reports say these things are killers," a reporter shouted.
"We are the killers," Curt said sadly. "Every helpless bunny, mouse or puppy that is killed in the name of so-called scientific research is the victim of government-sanctioned murder. If this creature before you kills, it is a fitting irony that it does. I wonder how many animals the butchers at BostonBio slaughtered in order to manufacture the very thing that might bring about their own end?"
"What about those who say these things are monsters and should be destroyed?" another reporter called.
"If they are monsters, they are our monsters," Curt said righteously. "If they need to feast on human flesh in order to survive, we should provide it to them."
"Are you actually recommending we feed human beings to these things?" the reporter asked, amazed.
"If it is necessary, yes." Curt nodded. "As I understand it, our nursing homes are overcrowded. Perhaps the BBQs would be satisfied with a diet of our elderly or infirm. At least until their ultimate release."
"Release?"
Curt nodded happily. "I have been in touch with Bryce Babcock, the secretary of the interior. He is quite keen on the idea of releasing them into Yellowstone or another national park. You recall he championed the wolf-release program of a few years ago."
"Wouldn't that endanger park visitors?"
"Again, a small price to pay. And if I am able to recommend an appetizer to Secretary Babcock, I will be certain to mention that Dr. Judith White of BostonBio would make a delicious meal. These are her babies, after all. She should share responsibility for feeding them." Absently, he touched the wound on his neck as he spoke.
In the BostonBio lab, Dr. White lowered her head. "Shut it off," she ordered levelly.