Arrows of Time - Kim Falconer [15]
She’d given him some clues and he intended to follow them, without the full-arsenal SWAT approach of the authorities. In this instance, he would find them on his own. He had to. Where did you come from, my mystery woman? What can your DNA tell me about the children? He ground his teeth. What children? The eggs had been in Cryo for decades.
He rubbed his temples, pressing his fingers hard against them, before jotting down a few encrypted notes. He looked up the DNA scans and checked for cross-matched blood types in the transplant wards. His search of ten million only came up with a handful. But that was enough. It would be feasible to swap samples with one of them. A superficial decoy at best, but it would buy time. His mind flipped through the screens. What next?
He toggled to the flight schedules. He had to make it look natural. He frowned. There was already a booking—two fares to the island of Tibet. He checked the encrypted transaction. He’d made it this morning. Chills washed down his spine. He didn’t remember doing that.
No matter. It was done. As he checked that the booking was untraceable and confirmed, a clear plan began to formulate. Admin would grant him leave, surely. He had the credits and then some. No one would question his need for a break. He would holiday in Tibet and bribe a chopper to fly him to the outskirts of the Borderlands. He’d make contact with the inhabitants and get to the bottom of this. He straightened his shoulders. This would work.
He’d have to change the samples in the lab tonight, hold a press conference in the morning and assign blame to the one thing they couldn’t challenge—chaos theory. ASSIST would have to give him permission to reintroduce the notion of death. He’d say it had finally caught up but not to worry, it was just a stopover on a long, eternal journey. They were safe. All was well. They would be freed from their cold and fruitless immortality—unlike the deathless gods they had aspired to become.
My beautiful mystery woman, was this your plan all along? The silence left him numb. Not going to respond? No matter. I’ll find answers, and I’ll find a way for the children to live, with or without your help.
For a moment it felt like his memory would fill his mind like a giant wave before sucking back out of sight. What was that thought he kept glimpsing? He stared at the display screen. Why had he brought up that page? Tickets? Tibet? Okay. Get away. Good idea. But why two tickets? Who was he travelling with? I always travel alone. He changed the booking to one.
What was this note about the Borderlands? There was a cryo-bank number and a requisitions form. What was he getting out of embryonic suspension? He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, the screen was blank. He shook his head, frowning at the bouncing screensaver. Why did I turn off my com unit?
He switched it on and buzzed the front desk. ‘Jass? Get me Admin, will you. I need to speak with them, stat.’
‘Stat?’
‘Immediately!’
‘They’re online now,’ Jass replied. ‘There’s a backlog of waiting calls too. What do I do?’
‘Shoot them through. One at a time.’
Everett slipped on his headset, scrolled down Jane Doe’s case history and pushed line one.
He was counting on the pathology lab being dark. One good thing about that department was the hours they kept—ten ‘til four. Nobody worked overtime there. That was for emergencies, bottom floor, his floor. The path lab always ran a thirty-hour week, or less. That is, until tonight.
Everett cursed when he saw the lights. This was going to be tricky. He had to get that body out of there before they ran deep-level DNA tests. He no longer remembered the reason for the