Tainted Hearts (19 page)

“You’re a scientist.” He returned to his
chair, retrieving his cup from the coffee table. “May we speak
frankly and logically, setting aside our emotions as well as we are
able?”

Did he have any emotions to set aside? “All
right.”

“Have you solved the problem with valve
number three?”

Tuesday guarded her reaction, suppressing
her shock and suspicion. The problem was not widely known but it
wasn’t classified either. Was he trying to impress or intimidate
with the accuracy of his information?

“What does this have to do with PURE?”

“Indulge me for a few moments. What harm can
come from polite conversation?”

Pausing to set her beverage aside, she
crossed her legs and folded her hands. “Yes. The valve problem has
been resolved in the new model.”

“Is there any hope of developing a model
that derives its power directly from the human body?”

This was clearly meant to intimidate. “Your
research has obviously been more extensive than mine. I came here
to learn about PURE. If you’re not willing to—”

“My point is simple. Even with your
incredible invention artificially sustaining their lives, those
with Methuselah Syndrome are vulnerable. They’re at risk from
malfunction. They die if they can’t recharge their power cells.
Isn’t CPT currently working on a pocket defibrillator, so the heart
can be jumpstarted like an antique automobile?”

“Your solution is to simply let them
die?”

“Of course not.” He sounded genuinely
aghast. “Have you read none of my literature?”

“I’ve read all of it.”

“And you still don’t understand?” He tapped
his fingers against the arm of his chair. “Let me see if I can give
you a better example. Let’s talk about the SP-64 cocktail. It’s a
combination of chemicals, all toxic to the human body, designed to
suppress the immune system so the biomechanical heart won’t be
rejected. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“What are some of the risks inherent with
long-term ingestion of this cocktail?”

“We both know the answers to all of these
questions, so what’s the point of this conversation?”

He laughed. Amusement didn’t reach his eyes,
emotion never reached his eyes. “Ms. Fitzpatrick, you live and
breathe the SP-64 Project and I am fascinated by it. If
Michelangelo sat before me, you can guarantee I’d ask him about
painting.”

“Despite the Sistine Chapel, Michelangelo
was primarily a sculptor,” she pointed out.

He annoyed her.

“Is it true that long-term suppression of
the immune system increases a person’s risks of getting cancer or
other life-threatening infections? How many cocktail-related deaths
have there been in the last five years?”

“I can send you all this information in a
spreadsheet. I wish you had made the nature of your interest clear
to me. It would have saved us both a frustrating conversation.”

His chuckle grated on her nerves. Setting
his cup down, he joined her on the couch. She suppressed the urge
to crawl into the opposite corner, as far away from him as
physically possible.

“That’s the world your tainted lover offers
you.” He didn’t touch her, but he extended his arm along the back
of the sofa, bringing his hand within inches of her hair. “Would
you like to hear about my world?”

She shook her head. “You speak of physical
purity and yet you’re obviously enhanced. You were certainly not
born with those eyes. Isn’t that hypocritical?”

“I’ve had moments of vanity. I’m the first
to admit it. But I’ve learned from my mistakes and realized what is
important. Besides you’re comparing hair dyes and cosmetic
alterations with a genetic mutation passed on for generations. Are
they really the same?”

She didn’t answer. Her tight, dry throat
refused to release a single word.

“You’re the epitome of a PURE female. You’re
untainted by the scourge God is pouring out upon this planet.
You’ve resisted the temptation to mutilate your body. You radiate
health and vitality as nature intended.” He paused, leaning toward
her. “The thought of him touching you makes me crazy.”

Swallowing past the considerable lump in her
throat, she managed to say, “I didn’t realize your interest in me
was personal.”

“Oh, don’t misunderstand me.” He raised her
chin, bringing her gaze back to his. “My interest in you goes far
beyond your arresting face and pleasing shape. You possess skills
and knowledge that are unique and valuable. I’m attracted to you,
but PURE
needs
you.”

Tuesday fortified herself against his
insidious charm. PURE needed her. The flattery was a means to an
end, a practiced tactic. He disgusted her, yet he knew exactly what
to say, which insecurities to soothe, which words she longed to
hear—just not from him!

How many women had he seduced with his
perceptive charm and soothing smile? How many had he discarded when
their usefulness was spent?

“What does PURE need me to do?”

He chuckled, tracing her cheek with his
index finger. “I’m asking for a sincere commitment. You could be
one of the most valuable members of my team, but PURE isn’t a
social club. It’s a lifestyle. It’s a harsh, but necessary choice.
Survival of the fittest, Ms. Fitzpatrick. Surely, as a scientist,
you understand what that means.”

“I understand what it means, but I—”

“You’re not comfortable thinking about it in
regard to human beings. Life is precious and must be protected,
regardless of the price. But what if the only way to truly protect
human life is to isolate the PURE population from those already
tainted and let Methuselah Syndrome run its course?”

“There is merit in the concept, but—”

“Stringent quarantine is a proven medical
strategy that dates all the way back to the Typhoid epidemics.” He
captured a lock of her hair. It curled around his fingers and he
smiled.

Tuesday wanted to yank the strand from his
grasp and run for the elevator, but she hadn’t learned anything
important, hadn’t accomplished anything significant.

“If you choose a PURE mate, your children
and your children’s children would be born healthy and whole. No
biomechanical hearts, no risk of malfunction, no suppressed immune
systems. The Controlled Community will be a haven for those, like
you and me, who have resisted the temptation of vanity and kept
themselves PURE. Why should we suffer, and be forced to watch our
children suffer, because of the choices made by the tainted
world?”

Tears blurred her vision as she thought of
little Elise. Eight years of agony and her challenges had just
begun. Tuesday’s lips trembled. She quickly pressed them together,
not wanting him to understand how powerfully he was affecting
her.

“I see the pain in your eyes,” he whispered.
“And it makes me furious. You don’t deserve to bear the burdens of
the tainted world! You are fresh and young and beautiful. You
deserve to be cherished and adored. Instead you have become the
head crusader for a lost cause.”

A tear escaped and she angrily brushed it
away. Damn him! “How can saving people be a lost cause?”

“Because you’re not really saving them.” His
voice was stronger, more commanding. “You’re just postponing the
inevitable, slowing the process, while the epidemic spreads.”

Tuesday still hadn’t spoken more than
monosyllabic responses to his questions by the time they reached
the outskirts of Baltimore. Something was wrong. Seriously
wrong.

If that bastard had raped her while he sat
in the lobby mocking PURE’s propaganda, he would never forgive
himself. He was tempted to take her to his house—it was closer than
her apartment in the heart of the city—but it was likely Job had
them followed. Marc couldn’t risk revealing his identity too
soon.

He spotted a posh hotel and decided it would
do nicely. A random destination decreased the chances of
surveillance.

She took his hand and followed him from the
shuttle, not asking where they were or why he’d brought her here.
Definitely not like Tuesday. His fear increased in direct
proportion to her silence. By the time he registered under an
assumed name and led her to the moderate suite, he was ready to fly
straight back to the PURE stronghold and have it out with Job.
Marc’s gut knotted and he struggled to keep his tone even and
calm.

“Tuesday, what happened back there? Talk to
me.”

Wandering around the spacious main room, she
appeared dazed and despondent. Her hand trailed along the back of
the sofa, but her gaze drifted about, unfocused. They could be
anywhere and she wouldn’t have noticed.

“I never want to go back there, but I’ll
have to, won’t I? Oh God, how am I going to go back there?” She
turned and leaned against the sofa, crossing her arms over her
stomach. “I can’t, Marc. I can’t!”

He approached cautiously, but she scurried
away, putting the sofa between them. “Did he hurt you, sweetheart?
Why are you so upset?”

“He’s a snake,” she cried. “He’s evil
incarnate and he…” She closed her eyes, her hands fisting tightly.
“Just give me a minute.”

She continued her manic tour of the room,
wandering from the windows to the door, pausing before the
voice-activated fireplace, then returning to face him across the
sofa. He doubted she saw any of it. She was still back at the PURE
stronghold.

Color gradually returned to her face as the
muddled expression dissipated. Her green gaze locked with his,
finally seeing him for the first time since they left the
stronghold. Marc released his pent-up breath.

“I’ll never underestimate that man again.”
She finger combed her hair out of her eyes. “He read me like a book
and used every weakness against me.”

“You managed to send Rahab to me. You had to
have had some control.”

“I thought so, but—”

“Let’s sit down,” he proposed.

He’d meant together on the sofa, but she sat
in a large armchair and leaned her head against the high back. “I
want to claw his pasty skin to ribbons and shove my thumbs into
those circus-clown eyes!”

“I’ll be happy to assist you.” He walked to
the front of the sofa and sat facing her. “What happened after
Rahab left?”

Her voice sounded stronger as she explained.
“I was so sure he’d bought my act, but he was so slick. I think
that’s what bothered me most. I could see how it happens. For the
first time since I heard about PURE, I understood how they do it. I
was so dazed by the time he kissed my cheek and sent me down in the
elevator I was ready to sign my name on the dotted line.”

“What did he say to you?”

A shudder passed through her and he couldn’t
stay away. Kneeling in front of the chair, he gently cupped her
hands between his. He wanted to comfort her, to hold her, but he
didn’t attempt anything more intimate.

“He told me I was championing a useless
cause. He logically explained why anyone with Methuselah Syndrome
should be allowed to die and part of me believed him. I’m sickened
by the thoughts that man implanted in my head.”

Marc gave her hands a gentle squeeze. The
urge to pull her into his arms was nearly overwhelming, but he
resisted. She’d been frightened enough. He wasn’t sure an embrace
would comfort her right now.

She scooted forward, her knees touching his
abdomen. “We have to stop him. Job is so much more dangerous than I
ever imagined. In less than an hour he made me doubt who I am and
everything I’ve accomplished in my entire life.” She blew out a
ragged breath. “He made me cry. That really pissed me off.”

Framing her face with his hands, Marc gently
kissed her forehead. “Head games. They’re his weapon of choice.
He’s a textbook sociopath.”

“Well, he’s damn good at it.” She looped her
arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder.

With a relieved smile, Marc wrapped her in
his arms. “I’m sorry you had to go through this. You keep getting
caught in the crossfire.”

“Well, this one wasn’t your fault but I
still haven’t forgiven you for kidnapping me.” Her voice was
muffled against his neck.

“Is that so? I guess I’ll have to try harder
to make amends.”

“We’ll discuss that in a minute.” Leaving
her arms around his neck, she raised her head and looked at him.
“What did you think of Rahab? Was that Raeanne and do you think Job
has gotten to her?”

“That was definitely Raeanne and regardless
of how she behaved in front of Job, he isn’t controlling her. She
wasn’t able to tell me much because the lobby is monitored, but she
gave me these two brochures.” He pulled the folded pamphlets from
his back pocket and handed them to Tuesday, returning to the sofa
while she read.

“I’ve seen this one before. Job sent it to
me.” She unfolded the document and skimmed the information inside.
“This is different than the one he sent me. The graphics are
identical, but the text isn’t the same. What is the Final
PUREification?”

“I was hoping you could tell me. You’ve
never heard the phrase before?”

“No, but look, the Controlled Community is
scheduled to open shortly after Final PUREification concludes.” She
opened the second brochure and cringed. “This is creepy. What do
you think it means?”

“It’s never really explained.”

“Rahab gave these to you?”

He nodded.

“They have two sets of brochures. One for
potential recruits and one for those already trusted, at least to
some degree. Could this be why Rahab hasn’t just taken Job out and
walked away? Maybe she knows what it means.
Final
PUREification. That can’t be good.”

“Think about it. Their Controlled Community
is intended as a haven for those untainted by the genetic mutation,
correct?”

“Yes. Only 0.0s will be allowed. Those with
any sort of taint will remain at the stronghold and be sterilized.
It’s extreme, but it’s based on scientific principles. They intend
to purge the gene pool of the mutation through selective
breeding.”