Gemini Rising (Mischievous Malamute Mystery Series, Book 1) (11 page)

Chapter Twenty-Five

I grumbled as the alarm chirped happily. Morning arrived too soon, following a stress-filled day and sleepless night. Adding to the irritation was the persistent beep echoing from my cell phone, conveniently out of reach across the room on the dresser. I negotiated my way around Nicoh, who had once again monopolized the majority of the bed and was currently running joyously in his uninterrupted sleep. No doubt dreaming of the elusive Pandora. If only my life were that simple.

I sighed as I looked at my phone, then immediately wished I had stayed in bed. Ramirez had left me a message. Great. Maybe he’d gotten a clue and decided to apologize for real this time. Realistically, the odds of that were about as likely as Nicoh sleeping on his own doggie bed. I queued up the voicemail and prepared for the worst.

Ramirez’s message was brief, “Got a match on the plate. The Toyota is registered to Tanner Adam Dolby of Santa Monica, California. Do with it what you will, AJ.” Ignoring the curt delivery, I focused on the message itself.

I needed to contact Abe and Elijah ASAP, but before I could finish that thought, my phone rang to the sound of Leah’s ringtone, Duran Duran’s
Notorious
. As soon as I answered, she blurted, “Wait ‘til you hear what I’ve got for you!” At my silence, her excitement dimmed. “What’s wrong?”

I told her about my mad dash through the streets of Phoenix, meeting with Ramirez at Starbucks—including a play-by-play of our tiff—and his follow-up call this morning.

“So we have confirmation Dolby is in town, stalking you, waiting for the perfect moment to swoop in and—”

“Stop,” I gritted out through clenched teeth, “this is my life, not one of your stupid articles.”

“Whoa—someone got up on the wrong side of the bed. Don’t you dare snark at me, Arianna Jackson.” Immediately, I regretted my snottiness and started to apologize when she added, “Don’t forget I know what you looked like before you had braces and have the pictures to prove it.” After a moment, we both burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry, Leah. I’m being a total jerk.”

“Yes, you are, but that’s what I’m here for, to de-jerkify you when you need it. You are fortunate I’m always on my best behavior and never in need of such services in return.” Again, laughter filled both sides of the connection. “Clark/Dolby-related issues aside, do you want to hear why I called?”

“Absolutely,” I replied.

“I have a friend at the
Chicago Tribune
who owes me a favor,” she began.

“Wait, what friend?” I asked, suddenly suspicious and dreading her response.

“Michael Rafferty,” she briskly replied. I groaned. Michael had been Leah’s college boyfriend. They had dated for a year until he moved on to greener pastures, meaning the busty editor of the school paper. In an attempt to mend Leah’s broken heart, we had both gained five pounds indulging in chocolate Oreo cookie ice cream. Michael eventually regretted his fling with the editor, who hadn’t given him the choice stories he had hoped his association with her would garner, and tried to make amends with Leah. Though she’d repeatedly rebuffed his apologies, he’d pop out of the woodwork every few years in an effort to rekindle the relationship. To date, I thought she had succeeded in warding him off.

“I can hear the gears working in that melon of yours, AJ,” she warned. “Just for the record, I’m not giving Rafferty the time of day. He owes me a favor. As a colleague. Which I’m cashing in. For you. So thank me and let’s get on with it.”

“Thank you, Leah,” I replied sincerely. “I do appreciate your assistance.”

“As you should,” she teased. “Anywhoo, I gave Michael the bare minimum—nothing involving you or Victoria—said I was looking for information on Alcore and GenTech, their ongoing feud, the demise of Alcore, etc. I made it clear I wanted the behind-the-scenes goods, not the stuff edited for public consumption.

“Anyway, Rafferty did one better. He found us someone who had first-hand knowledge, a former bureau chief by the name of Mort Daniels. And this is where it gets good. Turns out, Daniels retired back in the 1990s and moved to sunny Ahwatukee, Arizona.”

“No way. I can’t believe we’d get that lucky.”

“I know. That’s not even the best part. Rafferty contacted Daniels and set up a meeting. Daniels wanted time to pull some of his old notes, but he’s able to see us in a couple of hours.”

“That’s awesome. Rafferty must want to get back into your good graces,” I remarked.

“Don’t you worry, missy.” Leah chuckled mischievously. “Like I said, he owes me.”

“Whatever, I appreciate it. You want me to swing by and pick you up?” I asked.

“Yeah, see ya in a few,” she chirped happily as she hung up.

I looked at the clock. My call to Abe and Elijah would have to wait.

Nicoh and I picked Leah up at her condo forty-five minutes later and headed to Daniels’ home in the Ahwatukee Foothills. The ride was unusually quiet, as both of us deep in thought. I can’t speak for Leah, but I was also more than a little anxious about our impending meeting. Fortunately, before the anxiety manifested into a full-blown panic attack, we arrived at our destination.

Daniels lived in a gated community filled with carefully-maintained custom-built homes. His was located at the back of a cul-de-sac and was spacious without being pretentious. He greeted us as we pulled into his turnaround driveway, a smiling man of tall stature and slight build. I pegged him for late 60s or early 70s, but there was a twinkle in his eye that led me to believe he was as spry as a man half his age.

After introductions were made, he gestured for us to join him in the backyard for iced tea. We ooo’d and ahh’d at the enchanting landscape. Flowers and plants of various species and colors intermingled artfully along the cobblestone pathway, which lead to an outdoor seating area filled with lush chairs in richly-colored fabrics. A small natural stone waterfall cascaded gently into the koi pond below, producing a soothing background rhythm for the already serene surroundings.

“Lovely,” I murmured as Leah nodded, her eyes wide as they roamed over every detail.

“Thank you,” Daniels beamed, “it’s always nice to hear one’s handiwork is appreciated.”

“You did all of this?” Leah asked, using both arms to gesture toward the landscape the surrounded us.

“Sure did.” He chuckled. “Of course, it was dumb luck. When I moved in, it was nothing but dirt back here. And bugs. Lots of ‘em. What was meant to be a quick stop at Home Depot to pick up some insecticide turned into a two-year project,” he paused as both of us gawked at him, open-mouthed. “Anyway, long story short, I found something to keep myself busy during retirement.”

We all laughed as he motioned for us to sit. He poured tall glasses of iced tea while we made small talk, discussing items such as landscaping in the desert and our black thumbs. Ours, not his. Once we were all situated—even Nicoh had his own water bowl with ice cubes—Daniels got down to business.

“Michael told me you were looking for some background information on Alcore and GenTech from back in the day?” When we both nodded, he continued, “Well, you’re in luck. Those two happen to have been pet projects of mine.” He pulled a large file box from around the side of his chair and removed the lid. Inside were dozens of folders, neatly arranged by month and year.

“Michael also said you had already done some initial research. Don’t hesitate to let me know if I’m rehashing familiar territory.” He smiled at us warmly as he absently rubbed Nicoh behind the ears.

“As you are likely aware, Alcore and GenTech were fierce competitors in the field of genetic engineering, often battling for funding from the same sources. Though both companies had other projects, these sources were primarily interested in the human cloning aspect of the science.”

“And where the money goes, the project focus goes as well,” Leah added.

“Exactly,” Daniels continued, “and with the money also came protection. Not only was genetic mutation controversial, even the mere thought of human replication moved the science into an entirely different arena. One with moral and ethical consequences. Alcore’s and GenTech’s benefactors carried the clout to shelter them from the pandemonium that would have ensued had government and religious sectors gotten involved.”

“What was going on at Alcore and GenTech?” I asked, hoping I hadn’t disrupted our host’s train of thought. If I had, he didn’t let on.

“According to my source—”

“Your source?” Leah inquired, though as a reporter herself, she knew what his response would be.

“To this day, I have not divulged his identity, though I can confirm he had intimate knowledge of the day-to-day operations at GenTech and was familiar with Alcore’s as well. For today’s purposes, we shall call him X. Please pardon the cliché.” He chuckled.

“Anyway, according to X, both companies were attempting to replicate a human life—a child—by isolating non-reproductive cells from the mother. Once they had removed these donor cells, their nuclei would be transferred to a host cell. Though the scientist’s methods were radically different at each company, the host cell in each scenario was chemically altered to the point it behaved like one generated during the union of female egg and a male sperm. The resulting host cell contained all the DNA necessary to develop into a human child. Once the host cell evolved into an embryo, it was implanted back into the mother and carried to a full term.

“In natural reproduction, half of a child’s DNA comes from the mother and the other half from the father. With cloning, the DNA comes entirely from one source: the mother. The resulting child is a genetic replica of that source.”

“Wow—that could make for an interesting family dinner, say if a mother gives birth to daughter,” I thought aloud.

“Ugh, can you say daddy issues?” Leah added. “And what about the mother-daughter relationship—could you imagine getting into an argument with yourself?”

Daniels watched us, obviously amused by our banter, but when he spoke again, his tone was serious. “And therein lies some of the ethical concerns with regards to human cloning.” We both nodded in agreement, though we could certainly think of others.

“So, how many mothers were involved in the experiment?” I asked, moving the conversation away from the unsettling ethical dilemmas the subject brought to mind.

“GenTech had six mothers come to full term, and while Alcore had twice as many volunteers in their program, none of them made it through the entire gestation period.”

“After all of that, there were only six offspring?” Leah asked, a perplexed expression of her face.

Daniels sighed, scratching his head. “Well, that’s where things got a little fuzzy. A little grayer, perhaps. Each mother was actually implanted with two embryos. X said GenTech wanted to pad the odds, to ensure at least one made it to term. That was one of the reasons, anyway.”

“Meaning if they did come to term, the mother would have had twins?” I asked.

Daniels nodded. “It’s sketchy whether all came to term—even X wasn’t sure—but yes, had they all survived, there would have been twelve children. Six sets of twins. All girls.” We all took a moment to reflect on that tidbit.

Leah broke the awkward silence. “You said ‘one of the reasons’ GenTech implanted two embryos—what was another?”

His friendly demeanor immediately turned to one filled with disgust and distaste. “There were rumors—that not even X could fully substantiate—GenTech was also creating the twin as a means of providing ‘spare parts,’ for lack of better phrasing.”

“Oh my,” I whispered as I looked to Leah, her eyes wide and mouth opened in shock.

“There were other rumors, too, that painted darker pictures of their intentions.” Daniels shook his head, sickened. “I can’t even begin to bring myself to utter the words.”

“Don’t,” Leah said gently. “What I don’t understand is how the mothers would knowingly subject themselves or their unborn children to that possibility?”

“They didn’t know,” Daniels replied. “I’m not sure about Alcore, but prior to the cell extraction, GenTech required the mothers to sign an agreement relinquishing all rights to any child born as a result of their participation in the program. They used the awkward family dynamic you mentioned as their BS rationale. Of course, after considering the alternatives, the mothers quickly acquiesced. Plus, they were handsomely rewarded for their cooperation.

“But GenTech didn’t stop there when it came to getting the mother’s consent. They also guaranteed the children would be adopted separately, to parents in different states. This limited the possibility the mother or any of her other non-program children would come into contact with the cloned child during their lifetimes. That time clock started the moment she gave birth.”

Something clicked into place as Daniels spoke, but I wasn’t sure exactly what.

“How come you never ran the story?” Leah asked, changing the subject.

“By the time I was able to collect all of this,” he motioned toward the file box, “the benefactors had lost their footing—too many hands in the pot—and the Feds, as well other public and private sectors were rapidly closing in. As a result, their purse strings tightened, forcing GenTech to return their focus to the other—pre-cloning—projects and Alcore to close altogether.

“Despite the shift, I continued tracking GenTech, but many of those involved in the project were quickly transitioned out. Others couldn’t or wouldn’t talk, or they conveniently disappeared. No one wanted that cat coming out of the bag, so keeping it quiet from that point forward wasn’t an issue.”