Joanna glanced up at Deborah. As she suspected, her roommate was smiling. Joanna had to give her credit. Thanks to her mischievous personality, she could find humor in most any circumstance. For her part, Joanna was not amused at all.
"One thing I do notice,' Deborah said. "With each egg entry of yours, the sperm donor is not mentioned."
"I would assume it was the woman's husband," Joanna said. She finished setting up the printing command and clicked on the Print button. "Now that's going to take a few minutes with the size of the file. If there's anything you want to do, do it now, because once we have the file, I want to leave."
"I'm ready now," Deborah said.
"WHAT A DAY," RANDY LAMENTED. HE WAS THANKFUL TO have gotten rid of Kurt Hermann but disgruntled he'd had to have such a weird conversation in the first place. The man was like a caged tiger with his quiet demeanor and the slow way he moved and spoke. Randy shook himself as if having had a wave of nausea just remembering talking with him.
Randy was on his way back from fixing the workstation in accounting which he'd had to put on hold when he'd been called to have the chat with the security chief. It was going on two in the afternoon, and he was looking forward to getting back to his cubicle. Putting up with Kurt hadn't been the worst part of the day: that was reserved for having lost to SCREAMER, and Randy was aching for a rematch.
Arriving in his cubicle, Randy went through his usual trick to see if Christine was around. He was glad to see she wasn't, which was typical for that time in the afternoon when she had her department-head meetings. That meant he could allow a little more sound. Sitting down, he pulled his joystick from behind the monitor. Next he typed in his password to unlock his keyboard. The moment he did so, he saw the same pesky prompt flashing in the lower right-hand corner of his computer desktop that had been responsible for his death that morning. Somebody had been in the server room again!
With angry strokes, Randy brought up the appropriate window. Sure enough, the door had been opened at 12:02 P.M. and left open until 12:28 P.M., which meant that whoever had gone in there had remained for twenty-six minutes. Randy knew that a visit of twenty-six minutes was not like someone popping in for a peek, and it bothered him considerably. In twenty-six minutes someone could cause a lot of trouble indeed.
Next Randy called up the appropriate folder to see who it had been. He was shocked to find that once again it had been Dr. Spencer Wingate! Randy sat back and stared at the founder's name while trying to decide what to do. He'd told Kurt about the first incident, but the security chief had hardly seemed impressed although he had asked to be informed if it happened again.
Randy tipped forward again. He decided he'd call the security chief but only after seeing if he could find anything in the system that had been changed. What first came to mind was a change in user levels. With rapid strokes and movement of the mouse, he accessed his Active Directory. After only a few minutes he had the answer. Dr. Wingate had added Prudence Heatherly to the access list for the Donor folder in the server's data drive.
Randy tipped back in his seat again. He asked himself why the founder of the clinic would add the name of a new employee to a secure file that even Dr. Wingate didn't have access to. It didn't make a lot of sense unless Prudence Heatherly was working for him in some undercover capacity.
"This is unreal," Randy said. In a way, he was enjoying himself. It was something like a computer game where he was trying to figure out his opponent's strategy. It wasn't as exciting as Unreal Tournament, but then again, little was. He sat and pondered for a number of minutes.
Without coming up with a plausible explanation, Randy reached for the phone. He wasn't looking forward to talking with Kurt again, but at least it was by phone, not in person. He also decided to tell the man just the facts and none of his supposition. While he dialed the extension he noted the time. It was two o'clock on the button.
FOURTEEN
JOANNA TRIED TO ACT NORMALLY despite a creepy feeling she was being watched as she descended the steps at the Wingate Clinic's entrance and started down the walkway toward the Chevy Malibu. Deborah was already in the car, and Joanna could see her head silhouetted in the driver's seat. Since the workday was hardly over, they had decided that it would attract less attention if they left separately than if they walked out together. So far it seemed to have worked. Deborah had apparently made it safely and no one had confronted Joanna. Joanna had her purse over her right shoulder. In her left hand she was carrying a thick envelope containing the bulky printout of the donor file. As she walked she had to fight against the urge to run. Once again she felt like a thief making her getaway, only this time she was carrying the stolen goods.
She got to the car without incident and went around to the passenger side. As quickly as she could she climbed in.
"Let's get the hell out of here!" Joanna proclaimed.
"Wouldn't this be a good time for the car not to start?" Deborah joked as she reached for the ignition.
Joanna swatted her playfully, giving vent to the tension she felt. "Don't even suggest it, you teasel Move it!"
Deborah leaned away from Joanna's slap, got the car going, and backed out of the parking space.
"Well, we did it, for whatever it was worth," Deborah said as she maneuvered the car to begin the descent of the long, curving drive. "I guess we should give ourselves credit for that, even if the payoff was a big disappointment."
"We didn't do it until we get out of the gate safely," Joanna said.
"I suppose that's technically true," Deborah said. She pulled up to the gate, stopping at the indicated white line.
Joanna held her breath during the short interval before the gate began its long, slow swing open.
A moment later Deborah powered the car through the tunnel beneath the gatehouse and into the clear beyond.
Joanna visibly relaxed, and Deborah noticed.
"Were you really worried there?" Deborah asked.
"I've been worried all day," Joanna admitted. She opened the envelope and extracted the heavy printout.
Deborah glanced at Joanna as she made the right turn onto Pierce Street to head into Bookford. "What are you going to do, a little pleasure reading on the way home?"
"Actually, I had an idea," Joanna said. "And a pretty good one as I'm sure you'll agree." She began shuffling through the pages, looking for two in particular while being careful to keep them all in order. It took her several minutes.
"Are you going to clue me in, or is this great idea of yours a secret?" Deborah asked finally. She was mildly miffed at Joanna's continuing silence.
Joanna inwardly smiled. She realized by not completing her thought she'd unconsciously subjected Deborah to the same irritating speech foible Deborah was forever pulling on her. Enjoying her revenge, Joanna didn't answer until she'd isolated the proper pages and put the rest of the file on the backseat.
"Voila!" Joanna said. She held the sheets up so Deborah could look at them.
Deborah took her eyes off the road long enough to see that the papers Joanna was holding were those giving the details about the two children that had supposedly been born from her eggs. "Okay, I see what you've got there. So what's the big idea?"
"Both these children would be about seven to eight months old," Joanna said. "That is, if they exist."
"Yeah, so?"
"We've got names here, addresses, and phone numbers," Joanna said. "I suggest we call them up and if they're willing, pay them a visit."
Deborah gave Joanna a fleeting glance with an expression of total disbelief. "You're joking," she said. "Tell me you are joking."
"I'm not joking," Joanna said. "It was your suggestion that this list was a fabrication. Let's check it out. At least one of these addresses is right here in Bookford."