Chapter Three
Donald
Lydecker sat at his desk drinking black coffee, a habit left over from his
ADAP/AA days. He was feeling pressure from Renfro to take his nanotchnology
experiments to the next stage, human testing. Ideally, he wanted one more round
of animal testing before he did that, but he knew Renfro well enough to realize
that what she wanted, she usually got. And now his ass was on the line. As
usual. He was tired of fighting with her. It depleted his energy; energy that
could be put to better use pursuing his goal of creating the perfect soldier.
He
picked up her briefing notes to the Committee and glanced at them. As usual he
hadn't been invited to attend the meeting although it directly affected him.
Bitch! What was it with her, anyway? Did she hate all men, or just him?
Something
in the briefing caught his eye, the subject's name. Logan Cale. Where had he
heard that name before? Logan Cale? It nagged at him.
Suddenly,
he uttered an expletive. Of course! Logan Cale! The journalist in the wheelchair
whom he'd met at the genetics conference last year. The man who had exchanged
himself for the female hostages when those idiots from the May 22nd
Movement attacked the hotel. He never had found out what had happened to the
guy after the terrorists took him away to toss him off the roof. Obviously he
had somehow survived. Lydecker remembered bitterly that he himself had been
knocked out by one of the terrorists when he tried to shoot Jon Darius.
Good
God! Renfro had grabbed Logan Cale to be his lab rat! The woman must be mad.
Didn't she realize that a high-profile journalist like him would be missed?
Didn't she realize that he probably had powerful friends in high places? What
was she thinking? She had screwed up big time. And it would be up to him to
cover her ass. Again. Or they would both go down in flames.
Bitch.
*************
Logan
awoke again. This time, his headache was almost gone and he didn't feel groggy.
He reached for his glasses and put them on. Almost immediately, an orderly came
in with a tray of food. Funny, he hadn't even thought about food, but now he
realized that he was hungry. So he tucked into a meal that was far better than
any hospital food he'd ever had.
The
orderly left as the nurse walked in.
"Are
you feeling better now, Mr. Cale?" she asked solicitously.
"Much
better, thank you. When can I leave?"
"Not
quite yet. We're still running tests."
"What
kind of tests?" Logan didn't remember anyone running any tests. "And when will
you be done with them? I would like to go home."
"Shortly.
I'll send in the doctor to talk to you."
"Fine.
I really would like to know what's going on." Logan felt himself getting
annoyed.
She
turned and walked out. Logan looked around the room. It was a typical hospital
room – except for the barred window. That didn't give him a warm, fuzzy
feeling. The nurse had said this place was a private medical facility; she
hadn't said what kind of medical facility it was. What was going on here? Where
was the doctor? He figured a little field trip was in order.
When
he finished eating, he put the tray on the nightstand and transferred himself into the wheelchair. He unhooked the monitor
to which he was attached. He then searched the room looking for his clothes. He
found them, neatly folded in a zippered bag, in the bottom of a chest of
drawers. Relieved, he tore the hospital gown off and pulled his sweater over
his head. He lifted one foot, then the other, off the pedals to pull on his
sweatpants.
He had just put on his shoes when Donald Lydecker walked into the room. Logan turned the wheelchair around to face him.
