"Randy Porter has discovered that the woman calling herself Prudence Heatherly has managed to download and print out one of your sensitive files. It's a file called Donor."
"Good God!" Paul blurted. "How could that have happened? I was assured by that computer prick that my files were secure."
"I'm not as computer-savvy as I ought to be,' Kurt said. "But Randy implied that she had help from Dr. Spencer Wingate, who I believe they seduced."
Paul had to steady himself by grabbing the sides of the chair. He knew Spencer was disgruntled, but this was going too far. "How did he help her?"
"By adding her name as a user of the file," Kurt said. "I had to practically beat that information out of Randy, but that was what he said."
"All right," Paul snapped, feeling his cheeks redden. "I'll talk to Spencer and get to the bottom of it from his end, although I might need your help with him, too. In the meantime, you handle the women and be as thorough as you were with that unfortunate anesthetic death, if you catch my drift. I don't want those women to leave the premises under their own power and preferably not at all. And I want the file that was printed out." By the time he was finished he was practically yelling.
"Unfortunately the women are gone already," Kurt said, maintaining his calmness despite Paul's mounting fervor. "As soon as I learned all this I immediately tried to track them down to detain them. Apparently, once they got the file, they left."
"I want you to find them and get rid of them!" Paul barked while repeatedly stabbing a finger at Kurt. "I don't want to know how you get rid of them, just do it! And do it in a way that does not implicate the Wingate. We've got to contain this!"
"That goes without saying," Kurt said. "And since I've already given it some thought, I'm pleased to say that I believe it will be rather easy. First, we have an address, which means we'll have quick access to the women. And second, the women had to know their behavior was felonious, meaning they wouldn't have been inclined to tell people what they were up to. Also, at least one of them was a donor here, which makes the motive for wanting the file personal rather than for some social crusade. All this means is that although there's been a major security breach, it is containable if we act quickly."
"Then by all means act quickly," Paul shouted. "I want this taken care of by tonight at the latest. These women could cause us a major goddamn headache."
"I've already made arrangements to head into Boston," Kurt said. He stood up, and as he did so he made sure Paul caught sight of the silenced Clock automatic pistol he pulled from the desk's center drawer. He wanted to get the credit for the seriousness he considered the situation to be. But Paul's response was different than Kurt expected. Instead of pretending he didn't see it, Paul asked if there was another one around he could borrow for the night. Kurt was happy to oblige. He was hoping Paul would solve the Spencer Wingate problem himself. After all, having two potential commanders-in-chief at odds with each other could be a messy situation.
JOANNA WAS STILL TREMBLING FROM THE INITIAL of the reality she was facing, and she had the sense that Deborah shared her feelings with equal intensity. Mrs. Sard had invited them into their living room and insisted on giving them coffee. But Joanna didn't touch the cup. The house was so filthy, she was afraid to. Food that resembled week-old yogurt was smeared on the couch next to where Joanna was sitting. Toys and dirty clothes were strewn about haphazardly. The smell of dirty diapers permeated the air. The kitchen, which Joanna had caught a glimpse of when they'd first come in, was piled high with dirty dishes.
Mrs. Sard had maintained nonstop chatter which mostly involved the baby who clung to her for most of the visit like a marsupial. She was manifestly pleased by the unexpected visit, giving Joanna the impression she was starved for company.
"So the baby has been healthy?" Deborah asked when Mrs. Sard paused for breath.
"Quite healthy," Mrs. Sard said. "Although just recently we've been told he has some mild, senorineuronal hearing loss."
Joanna had no idea what senorineuronal hearing loss was, and although she'd not opened her mouth during the whole visit, she managed to ask.
"It's deafness caused by a problem with the auditory nerve," Deborah explained.
Joanna nodded but still was unsure. But she didn't pursue it. Instead she looked down at her hands. They were trembling. Quickly she covered one with the other. That helped considerably. What she really wanted to do was to leave.
"What else can I tell you about this little pumpkin?" Mrs. Sard said. Proudly she lifted the baby off her shoulder and bounced him on her knee.
Joanna thought he was cute like any baby but she thought he would have been cuter if he'd been cleaner. The footed pajamas he was wearing were soiled in the front, his hair was dirty and some dried cereal was tenaciously clinging to his cheek.
"Well, I think we've gotten the information we need," Deborah said. She stood and an appreciative Joanna immediately did the same.
"How about some more coffee?" Mrs. Sard asked with an echo of desperation in her voice.
"I think we've overstayed our welcome," Deborah said.
Mrs. Sard tried to protest, but Deborah was insistent. Reluctantly Mrs. Sard walked her guests out the front door and stood on the porch while they descended the walkway. When they got to the car only Deborah looked back, and when she did, Mrs. Sard was waving the baby's hand to say good-bye.
"Let's get out of here," Joanna said as soon as the doors were closed. Purposefully she avoided looking back at the child.
"I'm trying," Deborah said. She got the car started and backed out of the driveway.
They drove for a few minutes before speaking. Both were glad to be away.
"I'm horrified," Joanna said, finally breaking the silence.
"I can't imagine anyone who wouldn't be," Deborah said.
"What amazes me is that that woman acts like she hasn't a clue." Joanna said.
"Maybe she doesn't. But even if she does, she's probably wanted a child for so long she doesn't care. Infertile couples have been known to be desperate."
"Did you know immediately?" Joanna asked.
"Obviously," Deborah said. "I almost fell off the damn porch."
"What was it that made the association for you?"
"It was the whole package," Deborah said. "But if I had to narrow it down I suppose I'd have to say the baby's white forelock was the giveaway. I mean, that's pretty dramatic, especially on a six-month-old child."
"Did you notice the child's eyes?" Joanna shuddered as if chilled.
"Certainly," Deborah said. "They reminded me of a husky one of my uncles had, although the dog's were even more shockingly different colors."
"What bothers me so much is that what's probably the first human clone had to be cloned from one of my eggs."
"I can appreciate your feelings," Deborah said. "But I have to say what bothers me so much is who did it and whom he cloned. Paul Saunders is not the kind of person the world needs another copy of. Cloning himself means he's more egocentric and conceited and arrogant than I could have ever imagined, although I'll wager he'd try to argue he did it for science or mankind or some other ridiculous justification."
"At least there's none of me in that child," Joanna said. For the moment, she couldn't see beyond the personal aspect of the calamity.
"I hate to tell you this, but that's probably not true," Deborah said. "The egg contributes the mitochondrial DNA. The child has your mitochondria."
"I'm not even going to ask what mitochondria is," Joanna said.
"I don't want to know because I don't want to believe there's anything of me in that child."