The Gender Experiment: (A Thriller) (14 page)

Something on the sidewalk caught his eye, and he knelt down. Taylor’s phone pouch with the cell still in it. She must have dropped it when she was attacked. Now he knew for sure she was gone. His first instinct was to go inside the police department and shout at them to find her. But if he was arrested or jailed for his part at the clinic, no one might ever look for Taylor. He was on his own to figure out what the military had done to those women and why they were killing their offspring.

No, he needed help. Time to call the FBI. They had the authority and the resources to investigate everything: the deaths in Denver, the murder of the receptionist in Colorado Springs, and Taylor’s abduction. They would take him seriously—and might never need to know about the incident at the obstetrics clinic.

Friday, Oct. 14, 8:45 a.m., Eastern Time, Washington D.C.

Andra Bailey’s phone rang soon after she sat down at her desk. She’d managed to read and respond to only one email so far. As she picked up, she glanced at who was calling. Special Agent Lennard. “What have you got for me?”

“Come to my office now please.” Her boss hung up.

What the hell?
This didn’t sound good. Bailey stood, straightened her shoulders, and planned a diversion.

When she walked into the corner office, her boss looked chagrinned. “I think you were right about Colorado.”

Of course she was.
“Did something new happen?” Bailey took a seat, keeping to the edge of the chair.

“A woman was kidnapped early this morning outside a police station in Colorado Springs.” Lennard’s broad shoulders gave a small shrug. “Or so her boyfriend claims. The victim is Taylor Lopez, a student at UC who interns at the Denver Medical Examiner’s office.”

The morgue where Logan Hurtz had been processed after his death. This case was definitely getting sticky. “Did the boyfriend witness the kidnapping?”

“He heard it over the phone.”

“What time?’”

“Forty minutes ago. About 6:15 a.m., Denver time.”

Bonnie Yost had been murdered in Colorado Springs. What if Lopez was the young woman who’d been spotted outside the victim’s house? “Any idea why Lopez was at the police department at six in the morning?”

“Not yet. The message came through the front desk and went to the kidnapping unit. Someone in the monitor room noticed the Colorado connection and remembered your interest. You can follow up.” Lennard handed her a printout with contact information for the witness.

“I’ll get on a plane for Denver this evening.” Stating her intentions was always better than asking permission.

“Great. We need to know what the hell is going on.” Lennard leaned back. “Even if it’s not connected to the Freedom Guardians.”

Bailey was starting to doubt that too. She stood. “I might as well get going.” She could have shared her new intel with Lennard, but it might be in her best interest to wait until things jelled.

“Keep me updated.”

“I’ll file daily reports.” Bailey hurried out. She had a dozen calls to make. But first, the witness. She keyed in his number as she walked back to her office.

A young male said, “This is Jake Wilson.”

She introduced herself, then launched straight in. “Tell me everything you know about Taylor Lopez’s kidnapping.”

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t even see it. Taylor was on the phone with me, then made a startled sound, then the connection went quiet. I called 911 and ran to the police station where she’d just been released, but she was gone. I found her phone though.”

“Why was she at the station?”

“They questioned her about the murder of a woman who’d worked at a medical clinic. But Taylor didn’t do it. She just wanted to talk to Bonnie.”

“About?” Bailey passed another agent in the hall and nodded.

He paused, then blurted, “The intersex babies who were born twenty years ago, all delivered by doctors connected to Carson Obstetrics.”

What the hell?
“Intersex? You mean they have both kinds of genitals?”

“Yes, but what’s important is that three of them died in the last month, and now Taylor has disappeared.” He lowered his voice. “What if the military is trying to cover up something? Like an experimental drug they gave a bunch of pregnant women?”

Whoa.
Definitely not related to armed militants. “Okay, slow down.” She stepped into her office and closed the door. “Tell me who’s dead and how.” Bailey slipped into her chair and opened a file on her computer, prepared to key in notes as the informant talked.

A paper crinkled in the background. “I don’t know the dates because Taylor’s the one who noticed the bodies. She works in the morgue.” A catch in Wilson’s voice. “Adrian Warsaw and Logan Hurtz both died accidentally in the last three weeks. One of them drowned and one fell off a balcony.”

Bailey took a moment to note the information. “And the third?”

“I found his body in an alley where he’d been shot. Taylor had left a message on his phone. That’s how I connected with her and learned the rest.” The information came out in a fast gush, and she suspected he’d left out some details.

But they could wait. “The dead man’s name?”

“Zion Tumara.”

“Give me a second.” Bailey had caught up with her notes and keyed the victim’s name into the database. She learned that Tumara had been questioned about an arson but had no criminal record. So his homicide wasn’t gang or drug related. Three men were dead, possibly all murdered, and the woman who’d connected their deaths was missing. The abducted woman had also talked to the clinic receptionist, who’d later been murdered. Some kind of cover-up was definitely going on. In addition, the young victims were all intersex and born around the same time. Adrenaline surged in her chest. This case was so much more interesting than anti-government, militia cowboys!

Bailey turned back to her phone call. “Any idea who kidnapped Lopez?”

“No, but he came after me too.”

An aggressive, deadly unsub. “Describe him.”

“About five ten, slender but buff. With pale skin. That’s all I’ve got. He wore a hood, and I was running away.” A nervous laugh. “I hid in a grocery store.”

“Was the man armed?” Bailey logged into the bureau’s travel site. She needed to fly out to Denver ASAP.

“Yes. This is Colorado and near an army base.”

“Did you call the police?”

“Not that time.” He was silent for a long moment. “I had just seen Taylor get handcuffed and shoved into a police car, so I was afraid of getting arrested.”

“What are you not telling me?”

Another hesitation. “We were at the clinic earlier trying to get information about the doctors.” His tone grew impassioned. “Bonnie, the receptionist, was there in 1996 when Taylor and the other subjects were born. She sent Taylor a list of all the intersex babies. Five names were marked. Three are dead, and Taylor has been kidnapped.” He choked up. “She’s probably dead now too.”

Subjects?
Was this guy a conspiracy theorist feeding her a line of bull? “Tell me about yourself, Jake.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “I’m an unemployed journalist and perfectly rational. I’ll email you the list, and you can see it for yourself.”

A reporter. Interesting. Bailey gave him her digital contact info. She had more questions, but they could wait. She needed to buy a plane ticket right now. The killer/kidnapper—if they were the same person—already had a head start. “Why didn’t you contact the Denver FBI field office?”

“I didn’t think about it. I’m new to Colorado.”

Not everyone knew the field offices existed. “Some of these events were already on my radar, and I’ll get out there as quickly as I can. Meanwhile, you should go to the Denver bureau and ask for protection.”

“I can’t do that. Taylor was abducted from Colorado Springs, and I have to stay here until I find her… or hear otherwise.”

Empaths could be such idiots. “Stay inside. I need you alive to answer questions when I arrive. Call me if anything changes. I have to get going.” She clicked off, called the bureau’s contact person at United Airlines, and booked an evening flight. If her travel went well, she would be in Denver by midnight.

Friday, Oct. 14, 6:52 a.m., Stratton Research Complex (SRC)

The car slowed, and Taylor braced for what might come next. She stared out the window, and in the trickle of new daylight spotted a low-to-the-ground building about the size of a grocery store. It didn’t seem big enough to be a military facility, but the fact that she wasn’t wearing a blindfold meant her captor had no intention of letting her ever leave this place.
Oh god.
What if they water-boarded her? If the torture became unbearable, could she find the means and the courage to kill herself? Her mother had made that choice.

They drove up to the building, and her abductor flashed a badge at a small, automated security post. An overhead door opened, and they drove into a parking garage, coming to a stop between an oversized SUV and an open-style jeep. The kidnapper turned to her. “No more fucking around. I don’t want to drag you in there unconscious and bleeding. Your stay here will be more pleasant if you just accept—better yet, embrace—your fate.” Her captor stepped out of the car and opened the back door. “My name is Devin, by the way. And you should consider yourself privileged to have the opportunity to serve your country and make the world safer.” The man leaned in and cut the new tape on Taylor’s ankles.

What the hell was he talking about? Taylor’s chest tightened, and she struggled to breathe. Much to her mother’s dismay, she’d never wanted to serve in the military. “What is this about? Please just tell me.” The strength of her own voice surprised her. She was terrified.

“Soon. For now, just be quiet and come peacefully.”

Devin grabbed her arm, tugged her out of the vehicle, and led her to the back of the building. A single guard sat by the door, a rifle strapped to his chest, watching something on a tablet computer. He looked up, nodded at Devin, and went back to his entertainment. After Devin flashed his ID at the security camera, a steel door slid open, and they entered a wide hallway. The scent and feel of the air reminded her of a mechanic’s shop, heavy with the stink of oil, exhaust, and grinding metal parts. What was going on here? The obstetrics office and the possible pregnancy drug had made the experiment seem medical, and Taylor had expected a clinical setting. Her legs trembled as she walked down a long, sloped hall past closed doors. Were they headed underground? At the end, more doors opened, and they entered a cavernous room with concrete walls. The temperature was noticeably cooler. A shiver ran up her spine.

Devin pointed at one of several golf carts. “Get in.”

Taylor complied. Her face still hurt from the last punch, and her chest burned from the stun gun. “Are we underground?”

“Yes.” Devin climbed in and push-started the engine, which barely made a sound. “Don’t ask any more questions. The major will tell you what he wants you to know.”

The major.
Another tremor ran through her body. Taylor hated him already.

They drove through a room stuffed with equipment she didn’t recognize, then passed into a dark tunnel. The hum of another electric cart filled the silence ahead. Devin pulled off to the side and let the other cart pass, saluting the driver as he went by. The man was middle-aged and wearing civilian clothes. Did people both live and work in this hidden complex? How unhealthy to live underground. She and Devin traveled for another few minutes, and Taylor’s dread deepened. Even if she escaped, could she find her way out?

Abruptly, the tunnel branched, and bright lights appeared along the ceiling. Devin turned left and stopped at the second door. The only marking was the numeral two near the knob. Devin hopped out, pushed a button on the wall, and said, “Lieutenant Blackburn to see you, sir. I have Lopez.”

At least she was still human to them, not just a target or package. After a moment, Devin motioned for her to get out. Taylor glanced at her unbound feet. Last chance to run. But where? No, the parking lot had been her last chance, but the guard with a rifle had discouraged her. She had no choice but to face this. If she ever got lucky and saw daylight again, she might be able to make a real break. Probably wishful thinking. Her life as she knew it was over. She’d never work in the morgue again or find her father. Her poor fish would die, if they hadn’t already. Sadness and guilt washed over her. Taylor bit her lip, refusing to cry.

The metal door slid open into a pocket in the cement, and they entered an office. The walls were white and covered with plaques, photos, and awards. Papers cluttered the big oak desk, and the leather chairs looked comfortable. The normalcy of everything surprised Taylor.

Devin stood near a chair and waited. “Don’t sit until the major does.”

Not quite normal.

A side door opened, and a man walked in. Six feet of lean, rigid muscle and short-cropped blondish-silver hair. His chiseled face would have been attractive under other circumstances, but he wasn’t smiling. His unlined skin looked younger than the graying hair indicated, but maybe that was because he never went out in the sun. The mud-brown button up shirt made him seem even paler. It wasn’t exactly a uniform, but no civilian would ever wear it.

“Why is she bleeding?” The major’s voice wasn’t deep, but it commanded attention.

“She tried to escape, sir, and an altercation ensued.” Devin was still rigidly upright.

“You must have failed to secure her properly. Fifty pushups.”

Devin dropped to the ground and started cranking them out. Taylor watched in astonishment for a moment, then turned to the major. “Why am I here? Why didn’t you just kill me like the others?” She couldn’t believe she’d just asked that.

“We think you’re suited to our infiltration program. It’s an opportunity to serve the goal of global peace.”

Infiltration?
“You mean spy? I can’t do that.” She glanced away from his steely expression. “I don’t have the courage. I’m not like that.”

“I think you’re wrong. You infiltrated my clinic and asked questions about the experiment.” His mouth relaxed.