Seizure (36 page)

With a keyhole suggesting the door could be locked, Stephanie prayed it wasn't. She lifted the door handle from its socket and gave it a twist. To her relief, it turned, and the door effortlessly opened inward. As she stepped into the long, narrow room, she could feel a breeze of the egg room air coming along with her, suggesting the egg room was slightly pressurized, probably to keep out airborne microbes. The interior of the narrow office was air-conditioned to a normal temperature and humidity. Letting go of the door and leaving it ajar, Stephanie moved over to the ledger and was immediately engrossed; she sensed that she had found what she was looking for.

She pushed the office chair aside to bend over for a closer
look at the handwritten entries. It was indeed a ledger, but not for finance. Instead, it was a list of all the women who had been impregnated and aborted including the dates of both, along with other information. Flipping back a few pages, Stephanie could see that the program had begun well before the clinic had opened its doors. Paul Saunders had been planning his egg supply well in advance.

Stephanie picked out a few individual cases, and running her finger along individual entries, she learned that the women had been impregnated following in vitro fertilization. IVF made sense, since only female fetuses were wanted, and IVF would be the only way to guarantee such an outcome. She noticed the X chromosome sperm involved in the cases she was looking at were all from Paul Saunders, which testified to an abiding, conscienceless megalomania.

Stephanie was entirely captivated. Everything was duly recorded in a bold script. She could even tell what type of tissue culture was done from each case as well as the respective cultures' current status in the egg room. While some fetuses contributed whole ovary preparations, others had their ovaries minced and cultured, and others were reduced to providing disaggregated germ cell lines.

Returning to the original page displayed when she had come into the room, Stephanie began counting how many women were currently pregnant. She couldn't help but shake her head that Saunders and company not only had the temerity to carry out such a program but also the audacity to record all its sordid details in black and white. With such a discovery, all Stephanie would have to do was inform the Bahamian authorities of the ledger's existence and leave it up to them to confiscate it.

Suddenly, Stephanie froze as a thunderbolt of fear descended her spine. She hadn't quite finished counting the pregnant women when her heart leaped in her chest. With no sound or any warning whatsoever, a circle of cold steel had insinuated itself through her hair and pressed against the back of her perspiring neck. Instantly, she knew without a modicum of doubt that it was the barrel of a gun!

“Don't move, and put your palms on the desk,” a disembodied voice threatened.

Stephanie felt her knees weaken. She was momentarily paralyzed. All the anxieties attendant to her snooping and aggravated by the press of time had coalesced in a maelstrom of sheer terror. She was bent at the waist over the ledger book, with one hand on the desk and the other poised in the air. She'd been using her index finger to help with the counting.

“Put your palms on the desk!” Kurt repeated with uncamouflaged anger. His voice quivered. He had to restrain himself from an urge to pistol-whip this shamefully provocative female who'd had the nerve to enter the egg room.

The gun barrel pressed in against Stephanie's neck just short of pain. Finding the strength to move, she did as she was told and put her right palm on the countertop. Having both hands on the desk kept her from possibly collapsing. She was shaking from fright to the point that her leg muscles felt like jelly.

Thankfully, the barrel of the gun was withdrawn. Stephanie took a breath. Vaguely, she was aware of searching hands going into her jacket pockets. She felt her cell phone and the clutter of pencils and papers removed and then replaced. She was beginning to recover to a degree, when she felt hands come up under the lab coat and reach around to fondle her breasts.

“What the hell are you doing?” she managed to demand.

“Shut up!” Kurt snarled. His hands dropped down to pat along the sides of her thorax. Then they dropped further to her hips, where they momentarily stopped.

Stephanie held her breath. She was mortified and humiliated. The next thing she knew, the hands were cupping her buttocks. “This is an outrage!” she sputtered. Anger began to crowd out her fear. She started to straighten up, with the intention of confronting her tormentor.

“Shut up!” Kurt shouted again. A hand pressed into her back, hard enough to collapse her on top of the ledger with her arms splayed to the sides. The gun was again pressed against the nape of her neck, this time painfully. “Don't doubt for a second I wouldn't shoot you here and now.”

“I'm Dr. D'Agostino,” Stephanie managed, despite the crushing weight on her back. “I'm working here.”

“I know who you are,” Kurt snarled. “And I know you are not working here in the egg room. This is off-limits.”

Stephanie could feel Kurt's hot breath. He was leaning over on top of her, pressing her down onto the desk. It was hard to breathe.

“If you move again, I'll shoot you.”

“Okay,” Stephanie squeaked. To her relief, the suffocating weight was released. She took a deep breath, only to feel a hand thrust between her legs to fondle her further. She gritted her teeth at the outrage. Then two hands patted down one leg and then the other, but not before her crotch was again groped. Next, the man's weight pressed back down on top of her, but not quite as forcibly as earlier. At the same time, she felt his hot breath on her neck as he rubbed himself lustfully against her and whispered in her ear: “Women like you deserve what they get.”

Stephanie resisted the urge to try to fight back or even scream. The man on top of her had to be deranged, and her intuition silently shouted for her to be passive for the moment. After all, she was in a medical clinic and not in some isolated location. Cindy Drexler and perhaps others would be appearing shortly.

“You see, bitch,” Kurt continued, “I had to make sure you were not carrying a camera or a weapon. Intruders tend to do that, and there's no telling where you could have hidden them on your person.”

Stephanie stayed quiet and immobile. She felt the man straighten up again.

“Put your hands behind your back!”

Stephanie did as she was told. Then, before she knew what was happening, she felt herself being locked into handcuffs. It had happened so quickly that she didn't comprehend until she heard the second metallic click. A bad situation was deteriorating. She'd never been in handcuffs, and they bit into her wrists. Worse yet, she felt even more vulnerable than she had before.

Stephanie was then yanked upright by the scruff of her neck and spun around. She eyed her assailant, watching as the man's thin lips twisted back into a cruel, taunting smile, as if he were flaunting the fact that he was under marginal control.

Stephanie immediately recognized him. Although she'd never heard his voice until now, she'd seen him around the clinic grounds and in the cafeteria. She even knew his name and that he was the head of security. It had been in his office that she and Daniel had been photographed and had obtained their ID cards. He'd been at his desk at the time but had not said a word. Stephanie had purposefully avoided his silent, beady stare.

Kurt stepped out of the way and gestured toward the open door to the office. The gun had disappeared. Stephanie was only too happy to leave, but when she started walking back in the direction from which she'd originally come, Kurt grabbed her arm.

“Wrong way,” he snapped. When she turned to look at him, he pointed in the opposite direction.

“I want to go back to the laboratory,” Stephanie said. She tried to imbue her voice with authority, but it was difficult under the circumstances.

“I couldn't care less what you want. Move!” Kurt gave her a forceful shove. Without her arms to help keep her balance, Stephanie nearly fell. Luckily, her feet stayed underneath her after the brush of a tissue-culture rack against her shoulder. Kurt gave her another push, and she stumbled ahead in the direction he'd indicated.

“I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of this,” Stephanie said, after regaining her composure somewhat. “I was just looking around in here. I was merely curious about the origin of the oocytes Dr. Saunders had provided us with.” Her mind was now churning in an internal debate whether she should follow Kurt's orders or just collapse and refuse to move. If they weren't going back to the lab, she wanted to stay in Cindy Drexler's office, where there was the comfort of knowing the woman would be returning. Having no idea where they were headed terrified her, but she didn't stop. What kept her moving was Kurt's threat to shoot her. As crazy and wired as he seemed, she took it seriously.

“Trespassing in the egg room is a big deal,” Kurt responded scornfully, as if privy to her thoughts.

At the end of the room, they turned ninety degrees and continued to a door similar to the one Stephanie had entered,
but at the opposite end of the room. Kurt pressed a button on its jamb and the heavy, safelike door whooshed open. Kurt gave Stephanie a rude shove through it. Unaccustomed to her arms being secured behind her back, it was all Stephanie could do to keep her footing. Stumbling ahead, she found herself in a long, narrow, stuccoed corridor that curved off to the left. It was meagerly illuminated with infrequent fluorescent fixtures mounted on the outer wall. It was also a stuffy, un-air-conditioned space.

Stephanie stopped. She tried to turn around, but Kurt shoved her forward with such force that she fell. Unable to put her hands out to break her fall, she landed on her shoulder, scraping her cheek on the cement floor. A moment later, he lifted her like a rag doll by grabbing a handful of her lab coat and blouse in the middle of her back. Once she was upright, he propelled her forward. Stephanie reconciled herself to walking. She recognized resisting was going to invite immediate disaster.

“I demand to speak to Dr. Wingate and Dr. Saunders,” Stephanie said, in a second attempt to be authoritative. Her fears were mounting as she wondered where this man was taking her. The damp warmth of the corridor suggested it was subterranean.

“In due course,” Kurt said, with a lecherous laugh that gave Stephanie a shiver.

It didn't take Stephanie long before she guessed they were traveling in the same direction as the arcaded walkway that connected the laboratory building with the administration building. They just happened to be underground. Within a few minutes, they came to a regular, insulated fire door. When Kurt opened it, she saw that her assumption was correct. They were in the admin building basement. Stephanie remembered it from when she and Daniel got their IDs. With some relief, she now guessed they were heading to the security office, which also was soon confirmed.

“Down the hall!” Kurt commanded when they entered his office. He stayed behind her, out of her sight.

Stephanie passed a partially open door and caught a glimpse of a wall of television monitors. Kurt urged her on. At the end of the corridor, she stopped.

“You'll notice we have a jail cell to the left and a bedroom to the right,” Kurt said mockingly. “It's your choice.”

Stephanie didn't answer. Instead, she stepped into the open cell. Kurt swung the barred door shut. It locked with a click that echoed off the concrete walls.

“What about the handcuffs?” Stephanie demanded.

“It's best they are left on,” Kurt said. His cruel, thin-lipped smile had returned. “It's for safety's sake. The management doesn't look kindly on prisoners doing themselves in.” Kurt laughed again. It was obvious he was enjoying himself. He started to turn back up the corridor but hesitated. Instead, he came back to stare in at Stephanie. “You've got a head in there, so feel free to use it. Don't let me bother you.”

Stephanie turned to glance at the toilet. Not only was it completely exposed; it didn't even have a seat. She looked back at Kurt and glared. “I want to see Dr. Wingate and Dr. Saunders immediately.”

“I'm afraid you are not in any position to give orders,” Kurt said mockingly. He glared at Stephanie before breaking off and disappearing back up the corridor.

Stephanie let out her breath and relaxed a degree with Kurt out of sight. She could only see a short distance up the hallway. Unable to look at her watch, she wondered what time it was. Daniel would have to start wondering where she was and start looking for her. In fact, maybe he was already. But then a new fear entered her mind: What if he was so angry at what she'd done that he didn't care if she'd been locked up?

 

Kurt Hermann sat down at his desk and put out his forearms. He was quivering from unconsummated desire. Stephanie D'Agostino had turned him on excruciatingly. Unfortunately, the pleasure of having his hands on her firm yet soft femaleness had been all too fleeting, and he wanted a repeat. She'd acted as if she hadn't enjoyed it, but he knew differently. Women were like that: one minute being provocative and the next minute pretending they didn't like the consequences. It was all an act, a put-on, a joke.

For a few minutes, Kurt tried to think of ways to put off calling Saunders. What he would have liked most to do was not to call him at all. Dr. D'Agostino could just disappear.
Hell, it was what she deserved. But he knew it wouldn't work. Saunders would know, because Saunders understood that Kurt was aware of everyone who came in and out of the compound. If the woman doctor disappeared, Saunders would know Kurt was responsible or at least knew what had happened to her.