The Gifted Ones: A Reader (11 page)

Spengler shifted his focus to the young man. “Really? Well, you’ve come to the right place, son. Perhaps you’d like to have my assistant—”

Archer cut him off, “No time for that. I want to see the ponds.”

Spengler flashed a look at his assistant. What had he done with the dead animals? Were they cleaned up? They couldn’t afford to have anyone poking around the ponds and discovering decaying carcasses. “Oh, you don’t want to go out there. I’ve got all my samples right here. With all the rain last week, it’s so muddy—”

“It’s this way, isn’t it?” Archer was already heading to the door that led to the fields.

Spengler gave his assistant a shove in that direction. Maybe if he got out there first, he’d be able to hide the bodies.

As they emerged into the sunlight, Dr. Spengler herded the two Orucovs toward some vertical tanks where new strains of algae were being developed, while his assistant hurried off in the other direction. Spengler began a lengthy explanation of how the new species varied from those they’d been growing for the last several years, but Archer was impatient. “Dr. Spengler, please. You know what we came here to see. Senator Stanhope is not a scientist. He doesn’t care about life cycles and recombinant DNA. He wants to replace dying industries with cutting-edge technology. He wants to bring jobs and security to his constituents. He wants to restore an economy. Now let’s see what you have for him!”

Spengler nodded dutifully and opened his hand, inviting the father and son to proceed him in the direction that his assistant had gone. The three men walked along a path of crushed stones that wound around and between several large algae-covered ponds. As they walked, Spengler pointed out the differences in algal varieties and explained the potential benefits of each for transformation into usable fuels. Aiden, who appeared very knowledgeable on the topic, asked a number of relevant, provocative questions. Spengler found himself increasingly at ease, as the visit seemed to be focusing on the positive aspects of his research—specifically, the enormous profit potential for inexpensive, home-grown fuels that would thrive in the American Midwest.

Just as they were nearing the end of the tour, however, Archer stumbled in the stones. Aiden and Spengler, who were in front of him, stopped, and looked back. As Archer recovered his balance, his attention shifted to the long grass on the other side of the path. “Wait. What is this?” Archer picked up a stick and used it to bend back a section of the grass. He beckoned to the other two.

Spengler felt his heart drop into his stomach as he approached. In the opening that Archer had created in the grass, there were a couple of baby bunnies who’d been hidden from view. They would’ve been adorable little creatures were it not for the fact that they were stone cold dead with wide-eyed stares. A feeling of queasiness rose in his throat.

Archer read the expression on his face. “How many of these have you seen, Doctor?”

Spengler dropped his shoulders. “Enough.”

“Only rabbits?”

Spengler shook his head. “Birds, squirrels, even a cat. The amphibians don’t seem to be affected.”

“Not this generation, anyway,” Aiden remarked with a tinge of sarcasm.

Spengler struggled to keep the desperation out of his voice, “Please, Dr. Orucov, give me some time. I’m sure I can figure out what’s happening. It’s probably just one strain, one of the new ones. We weren’t seeing this in our earlier experiments.” He shifted his weight uneasily. “We’ve come so far. The oil production from these new strains is phenomenal. If you could just see—”

Archer raised a hand to silence him. “Calm down, Doctor. No one’s pulling the plug on your research. It’s still better than anything any of our competitors have come up with. We need results, not perfection. If you can produce the fuel, I’ll take care of the fallout. Just keep your mouth shut about what goes on in this facility, and we’ll all be fine.”

“But the senator…his people…”

Archer narrowed his eyes. “You let me worry about the senator. Now get back in there and start planning your next experiment.” Archer waved him off dismissively, then motioned for Aiden to follow him back around the building and out to the parking lot.

Once there, Archer snapped his fingers to get their driver’s attention. He brought the car to them, and after they’d settled into the rear seat, Aiden finally said what was on his mind, “So, Arch, I don’t get it. The guy screwed up. Those ponds are no use if they’re toxic. That’s exactly what all the greenies are freaking out about. You can’t sell this project to the senator if someone’s tossing pictures of dead birds and bunnies in his face. Why didn’t you rip him a new one?”

Archer pursed his lips and threw a sidelong glance at the boy. Then he pushed the button to raise the screen that separated the front of the car from the rear section before speaking, “Aiden, really. I know it’s just the two of us, but that’s no reason to be crass. If you talk like that with me, you’ll talk that way with anyone. A true leader leads by example.”

“Uh, sorry. What I meant was—”

“I know what you meant. You are wondering why I didn’t drown Dr. Spengler in that pool of toxic sludge for attempting to hide his horrendous results from me.”

“Well, yeah. That’s what I meant.”

Archer raised his index finger as he spoke, “This is what you need to learn, Aiden, and I intend to teach it to you. I have had to learn many things the hard way, through painful life events. You will have the benefit of my experience.” He settled back into the seat and continued, “Dr. Spengler is a very bright scientist, one of our best, but he is no Communicator, no Persuader—clearly, and certainly not a Leader, like you will be someday. We use him for what he can do for us and nothing more. ‘Ripping him a new one’, as you so inelegantly put it, would serve no purpose. If he is terrified that he will be discharged and his work discontinued, he will lie and try to cover up when things go wrong, as he did today. Instead, we want his honesty and his loyalty. We want him to believe we are on his side.” Archer looked up in his head a moment, then back at Aiden, “To put it bluntly, you catch more flies with honey, my boy.”

A little grin spread across Aiden’s face then. “Okay, I get it. It’s really no different than with the girl, right? You told me I would gain her trust by being flirtatious and flattering. And it worked.” The grin turned into a wide smile. “Like a charm.”

Archer laughed then. “Indeed it did. You are a quick study, Aiden.” Then he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a phone. “Now, shall we call the senator together? I’m sure he’ll be delighted to hear about how quickly his state can be profiting from these wonderfully green biological fuels.”

# # #

Whoever called those things mountains had obviously never been to Colorado. Big hills was more like it. Grace drummed her fingers on the side of a large, empty coffee mug as she stared out the picture window in the farmhouse kitchen. The mountains of North Carolina were certainly pretty, especially in the spring, when they were brimming with vibrant green and patches of colorful flowers, but having spent several years in the Rockies when she was in vet school—and much of that outside—she didn’t see how anyone could mistake those little green bumps for mountains. Still, with an early morning mist twisting in and out their valleys, and a pinkish sky their backdrop, those little bumps were kicking remnant thoughts of the busy streets of Atlanta from her mind.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

The sudden sound and the more sudden nearness of an earthy, masculine presence startled Grace into almost dropping her mug. “Doo! I-I didn’t hear you come in.” She pretended not to notice the bare chest peeking out from under a shirt he hadn’t bothered buttoning yet.

“Well, I’m sorry, Miss Grace. I guess I am right quiet without my boots.” He lifted one bare foot from the old pine floor. “I’ve learned to move around silently when I need to. The horses and the chickens don’t mind so much, but the cows are very sensitive to noise when they’re grazing.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Really?” She took a moment to assess whether he was joking with her. Nope. He was dead-on serious.

Doo reached up into the cupboard and pulled out a coffee mug for himself. “Oh, yeah, you should see ’em when Joe or whoever brings the plane in. They get all put out with me. Specially those Belties, like Gilda.”

Grace raised both eyebrows then and opened her mouth to form a question, but couldn’t quite figure out how or what she wanted to ask. Good thing, because he continued on as though she was one hundred percent with him.

He nodded toward her empty coffee mug. “Already had your coffee, or just about to pour?”

“Well, to be honest, I couldn’t find the coffee. Or the coffee maker. You do have one here, don’t you?” She waved her hand in the general direction of the kitchen counters and cabinets, which were a charming blend of mid-century styles, but with a complete lack of modern conveniences.

“Oh, sure. It’s just Granny likes the old country look of this place, so we keep the gadgets out of sight.” He stepped back to one of the counters and beckoned her to follow. “Coffee maker’s in here.” He opened an upper cabinet door to reveal a narrow metallic and glass box. He took her mug from her and set it beneath the box, then asked, “So what’s your poison? Latte, cappuccino, machiatto…”

“That little machine can do all that?”

Doo patted the side of the machine. “That, and a lot more.” He shook his head, “Spencer—one of those little brainiac kids—built it. Man, that kid comes up with some amazing stuff. If you can dream it, he can do it.”

Grace shook her head. “I haven’t met him. Heard about him, but that’s it. I didn’t think he was that old.”

“He’s not. Twelve or thirteen, I think. Just a flippin’ genius, that one.” Doo made a face, “Not a lot of common sense and ’bout as graceful as a buffalo, but he’s great to have around when you find yourself in need of an automatic chicken feeder or an ultrasonic dishwasher that won’t break fine china.” He pointed to a lower cabinet on the other side of the room.

“Handy, but can this thing make a cup of good old-fashioned black coffee, strong?”

Doo laughed, “Sure.” He faced the machine and spoke to it, in a troubled Spanish accent, “Café, Colombino suprema, oscuro, sin crema.” And before she could ask, he explained, “There’s a little glitch in the language module. Spence is still working on that.”

Grace laughed as she tasted the steaming beverage. “I’d forgotten what a continuous stream of wonders this place has to offer.”

“Say, Miss Grace—”

“Oh, Doo, please, just call me Grace. You make me feel like the old schoolmarm.”

His face reddened slightly. “Sorry, ma’am. Just a childhood habit. Originally from Texas, ya know.”

She wasn’t sure ma’am was any better; it made her feel every bit of her thirty-four years. As if sharing a coffee with a not-quite-fully-clothed man several years her junior wasn’t doing that already.

“So I was thinkin’…being that you’re up early and all, and being that you’re such an expert with large animals—Joe told me that—I was wondering if you’d want to come out to the barns with me and look at some of our research. We’ve got several projects goin’ right now. We’re working on some plant-based antibiotics, and cross-breeding for natural pest resistance, and there’s also this study with the cows…”

Grace’s eyes lit up, and she forgot her earlier questions about his sanity. “Oh, yes! I’d love to see. I didn’t realize you guys had all this stuff going on. Joe didn’t mention it.”

“Well, maybe that’s ’cause he’s worried about the future of the projects. See, we had this great research vet here, Dr. Bianco, for the last ten years, but he left. He went to a veterinarians conference in Vegas and never came back.”

“He never came back?”

“Nope. He met a lady there, exotic animal specialist from New Zealand, and they ran off together. He sent me a postcard that said, ‘When it’s right, it’s right.’” Doo shrugged. “Can’t blame him. Prospects aren’t so good here at the farm.”

“Prospects…o-o-oh, I see what you mean.” Sure, that made sense. Bright, successful men and women could find a world of joy for their intellectual and creative pursuits here, but their love lives? Not so much. At least not if they were young and healthy and hoping to get married and make babies. Grace was suddenly keenly aware of the fact that she was one of very few women in a fifty mile radius who
didn’t
carry a particular gene.

Doo was now sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, pulling up the leg of his jeans and sliding on his boots, and again, Grace was trying not to notice certain very masculine aspects to his physique: long legs, bulging thigh muscles, broad shoulders…

“Gracie.”

She spun toward the sound of a soft, deep voice. “Joe! You’re up early.”

“I was just about to say the same—” Joe stopped mid-sentence when Doo stood, pushing his chair back noisily. “Oh…uh, sorry, I didn’t realize…”

“What? We were just having some coffee, chatting.” Why did she suddenly feel so uncomfortable? And why did her cheeks feel so warm?

Joe appeared to recover from his momentary fluster. “Right, of course. Good morning, Doo.” He smiled politely and made his way to the coffee machine.

Doo was the only one who didn’t look ruffled. “So you ready, Grace?”

Joe looked up sharply, and Grace explained, “Doo was going to show me some of the research set-ups out in the barn. He said they have these great—”