Joy laughed at that, another sharp note verging on hysteria, reminding Remo of the way she acted in the woods as he was squaring off against the khaki goons.
“I guess that’s true,” she said. “None of the girls were married. Doctor wouldn’t go for that.”
“Doctor?”
“The honcho,” Joy informed him. “Dr. Radcliff. Mr. Big.”
“He chose the girls himself?”
“Recruited us, would be more like it. There were physicals and tests, the whole nine yards, for anyone who passed inspection. Answering the adjust meant an interview. From there, you had to sell yourself—and that’s exactly what I mean.”
“What ad?” He was confused, as if the girl had veered off into subject matter foreign to their conversation. Remo felt as if he were a Yankee tourist, getting street directions in Chinese.
“What ad? Oh, man, where have you been?”
“Behind,” he told her, “but I’m catching up.”
“Okay. He runs this ad, you know? In different papers, freebies from the underground, that kind of thing. It’s like, some university of hospital will advertise for human guinea pigs to test a new vaccine, whatever. You’ve seen those, I bet.”
He nodded. They were on the television now and then, requests for patients suffering from allergies, arthritis, hypertension—any variety of ailments—to earn some extra money taking new, untested medication under rigid medical controls.
“Go on,” he urged.
“Well, it was just like that… except it wasn’t medicine, exactly. They were interested in single women—though I found out it wasn’t hard to lie about your age—who would agree to serve as surrogates for families who couldn’t make a baby on their own.”
Remo felt as if he had received a stinging slap across the face. “So, you weren’t…?”
“Pregnant when I joined the program? Uh-uh,” Joy replied. “No way.”
It was a twist that he had not considered. “Who’s the father?” Remo asked.
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Can we go back and start from the beginning, Joy?”
She rolled her eyes but said, “Okay. I saw this ad in the Free Press. Los Angeles, you know? I don’t recall exactly what it said, but there was money mentioned—no specific details—for some kind of personal service. They listed a toll-free number at the bottom, and I made the call.”
“Sounds like a come-on from an escort service,” Remo said.
“Well,” Joy responded, “I was working at the time, same kind of thing, but L.A.’s dangerous, you know? I didn’t mind relocating, if there was better money to be made.”
“So, you were—”
“Hooking. You can say it.”
“Right. What happened when you made the call?”
“This grandma-sounding woman picks it up and asks some general questions—age, health, this and that. She. says they’re doing interviews for something special, but she can’t spill any details on the telephone. I’ll have to talk to Doctor if I want the scoop.” She read the question in his eyes and said, “They always call him ‘Doctor,’ like he was the only one. Like God, you know?”
“And that was Radcliff.”
“Yeah, turns out it was. First thing, I asked the woman where they’re doing interviews, and she says Bloomington. Big college town, up north of here.”
“I’ve heard of it,” said Remo. “Bobby Knight, whatever.”
“Yeah, they’re crazy over basketball. I figured, later on, they set it up that way so it would seem legitimate, like maybe they were tied in with the university somehow.”
“Could be,” said Remo, thinking to himself that it would also point investigators in the wrong direction—north, away from Radcliff’s clinic, in Kentucky—if security broke down.
“Go on,” he urged.
“Okay. I told the lady she could put me on the ‘maybe’ list. I figured at the very worst. I’d get myself a free vacation, see some countryside. They wouldn’t spring for plane fare, but they put me on a Greyhound from L.A. to Bloomington. I never did much riding on a bus before, since I got out of school. It gives you time to snooze.”
“I guess that’s right,” said Remo.
“Anyway, we get to Bloomington on Friday, and they’ve booked a room for me. at this hotel down by the depot. Doctor comes and takes me out to dinner Friday night, which struck me as a little odd, but who am I to bitch about free food? Red Lobster’s where we went. It wasn’t bad.”
She hesitated, glanced down at the nervous fingers twining in her lap. “You wouldn’t have a smoke, by any chance?”
“I’m sorry, no.”
“No sweat. I’m not supposed to, anyway. The kid, you know? I haven’t had a cigarette for nearly seven months. I guess that means I quit.”
“Sounds like it.”
“Anyway, we just made small talk over dinner, then he drives me back to the hotel. It crossed my mind that Doctor may have been a lech, but nothing happened after all. He just explained the program, like, to fill me in.”
“Which was?”
“Was what?”
“The program,” Remo said.
“Oh, right. He said he was a baby doctor—and he worked with couples who were having difficulty in the reproductive area. No matter what they tried, the women couldn’t get knocked up, so they were hiring surrogates. I have to tell you, I was floored at first. The thought of being pregnant, first of all, then carrying a kid around for nine months and it’s gone, like that.”
“What made you go for it?” asked Remo.
“Money, and the way he laid it out all scientific-sounding. I never had to meet the couple—that was one thing. It was artificial all the way, no hassles. Once I passed the physical and all, I would be artificially inseminated, spend the next nine months at Doctor’s place—Ideal Maternity, no less—and once the baby was delivered, I’d have-fifty grand to get me started, someplace fresh. A whole new life, you know?”
“They offered fifty thousand dollars?”
“Right. No money down, of course, but that was cool, since I’d have no expenses of my own. It seemed all right.”
“You mentioned physicals.”
“Oh, yeah. I had to. take all kinds of tests—for HTV, fertility, a bunch of stuff I didn’t even understand. They’ve got all kinds of laboratory gear back at the so-called home. Technicians come and go with Doctor all the time.”
“I see.”
“They had about a dozen girls already there, when I moved in. All pregnant, due at different times. I never knew what Doctor and the staff were getting paid, but if the girls were getting fifty grand apiece, I figured he and Matron must be taking in a pretty penny.”
“Matron?”
Joy made a disgusted face. “Althea Bliss,” she said. “House mother, chief bad-ass, you name it. Doctor owns the place, but Matron runs the show, with assholes like the two you met tonight.”
“They were security?” asked Remo.
“Matron calls them ‘orderlies,’ like any decent hospital would let them through the door. Fact is, they do a little bit of everything, from cleaning up around the place to making sure the girls stay put.”
“Did many try to run away?”
Joy shook her head. “A couple, in the time I spent there. I’m the only one who ever made it out, and that was thanks to you.”
“Forget it.”
“That’ll be the day.”
“I need to hear the rest of it,” he said.
“Okay. They do the dirty deed, all nice and sterile like, in the infirmary. Next thing you know, I’m pregnant. Thing is, by that time, I’ve had a chance to ask some questions, get to know some of the other girls. It’s coming to me that Ideal Maternity’s not so ideal. You get my drift?”
“Not quite.”
“First thing, we never get to leave the grounds—and I mean never. They’ve got TV, VCR, all kinds of games and hobby shit, but no one can go shopping, take a walk out in the woods without a chaperone—forget it. Right away I figure Doctor’s. covering his ass, ’cause selling babies is illegal, and he doesn’t want some yokel putting two and two together, ’kay?”