Bryn stared at him with calm, level intensity until he looked away.
“Yeah, maybe we should sit down and have some coffee,” Manny said. “You’ll be good for about a week before you need another dose of the inhibitor.”
“Great,” she muttered. “More needles.”
McCallister gave her a look. “Would you rather lose your free will on command?”
“No. But I’d rather do it without puncturing any more veins.” She eyed Manny as he bent down, expertly slipping the needle out of her arm as he applied the cotton pad and bandage to stop the bleeding. He glanced up and gave her an awkward half smile. “Thank you, I guess.”
He shrugged. “I don’t get paid in thanks.” But there was a glow in his eyes; he was pleased. “You start feeling faint or strange, you yell for me or Pansy. Loudly. None of this hero crap.” He glanced aside at McCallister. “She stays put for a minimum of four hours before I let you walk out with her. Give me the syringe.”
“No,” McCallister said.
“She needs her shot.”
“And she’ll get it. From me.” McCallister met Bryn’s eyes briefly, then looked back at his friend. “It has to be that way. The syringes have sensors embedded all over the surface, and they’re coded to two users—a primary and a backup. For Bryn, that’s me and Joe Fideli. If anyone else, including Bryn, tries to administer them, the nanites inside self-destruct and become inert. Useless. It’s a security measure to prevent theft.”
Manny stared at him and slowly shook his head. “And here I thought I was the paranoid one.”
“You are,” McCallister said. “But you’re just one person. Multiply it by an incredibly greedy corporation and you get some idea what we’re up against.”
He reached in his coat pocket and pulled out the syringe container; it looked exactly like a silver cigar tube, and he unscrewed it and removed the contents. Great. Another stick. Bryn didn’t look at him as he walked over, took her bared arm, and punched the sharp chisel point into her skin. It was over in seconds, and it didn’t hurt too much, though the lingering afterburn of the injection was annoying.
The two men were watching her with great interest. She frowned at them and said, “What?”
“We’re waiting to see if there’s any kind of unplanned reaction,” Manny explained. “There’s an outside possibility that the nanites could try to resist the secondary agent. That would be … bad.”
“How bad?”
“Oh, you know. Decomposition.” He shrugged. “Probably won’t happen.”
Bryn decided she was going to hate Manny Glickman. Forever. She waited tensely, trying to be alert for any sensations that didn’t belong and trying not to overreact and invent them at the same time. Her two not very compassionate observers sat and waited as the minutes ticked by.
She got permission for a bathroom break at the two-hour mark, and on the way back ran into Pansy, who was coming out of the kitchen carrying a tray loaded down with sandwiches, tea, coffee, and a stack of magazines. “Here,” she said, and handed it to Bryn. “No sense in your being stuck in there without anything to do. There’s a sudoku uzzle book in there, too. And a pen.”
“Not a pencil?”
Pansy winked. “Around here, we do them in ink.”
“Of course you do. Um … thanks. For even thinking about it.”
“That’s why I’m here. To remind Manny to be human every once in a while. You’ve got your work cut out with Pat, though. I’m not sure someone didn’t replace his blood with antifreeze some time ago.”
“I don’t care what’s running through his veins. He’s not my boyfriend.”
“I know that,” Pansy said calmly. “I just meant as a colleague. Of course.”
She so very didn‘t, but Bryn let it go. She headed for the observation room, where McCallister silently rose from his chair and held the door open as she brought the tray in. “Pansy made us lunch,” she said.
“Of course,” McCallister said. “She’s always the practical one.”
“Ooh, peanut butter,” Manny said.
“I rest my case.” McCallister grabbed a sandwich from the tray—probably not peanut butter, Bryn guessed; he’d probably had enough of that at her apartment—and poured himself a cup of coffee. “You feeling all right?”
“You don’t think I’d tell you if I had any doubts? I’m scared to death!”
“Point taken. Coffee?”
“God, yes.” She grabbed a cup and held it while he poured, doctored it with sugar and cream to her satisfaction, and stood there with him downing caffeine. It almost felt … friendly. “I feel fine, just to make it clear.”
“I’m glad.”
“Yeah, I can tell you’re overwhelmed.” She blew on the surface of her coffee, watching him through half-closed eyes as he took a bite of sandwich. “You don’t really work for Pharmadene, do you?”
“Of course I do. Want to see my pay stubs?”
“That’s the most interesting pickup line I’ve heard this week, but no, I don’t think so. You may get paid by Pharmadene, but you don’t work for them. You’ve got another agenda. And maybe another boss.”
“No, no other boss,” he said. “But another agenda might be accurate.”
“Pat,” Manny said in a warning tone, but McCallister raised a hand to stop him “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. You go around trusting people, you get a kick in the ribs every time. No matter how pretty they are.”
“Do you say that to Pansy?” McCallister asked.
“Oh, no. I’m not crazy. She might wise up and leave me.”
“If you’ve got something to tell me, say it,” Bryn broke in. “Honestly, I’m so sick of this cloak-and-dagger bullshit!”
McCallister, of course, took a moment to think about it. Just when she was about to throw her coffee at him and tell him to go to hell, he said, “I have a reason for being careful. There have been two other prospects I’ve worked with from Pharmadene’s program. They didn’t work out. That’s why we have the cloak-and-dagger bullshit; I came very close to being exposed by the last one I trusted. I thought that reviving you and being involved start to finish would give us the ability to guarantee you wouldn’t be used and discarded by the company. As you noticed, that wasn’t quite the case. The protocols were still in force, even though I specifically turned them off in your prere-vival profile.”
“You’re blown,” Manny said. “They’ve got to suspect you, if they countermanded that order.”
“Not necessarily. All of my decisions are subject to review by my superior. She might just have done it as a precaution, not out of any suspicion. I could easily say it was a clerical error.”
“Your superior’s Irene Harte,” Bryn said softly. The one who’d treated her like a walking, talking asset that had reached the end of its once-useful life. “Does she suspect you?”
“Irene suspects everyone. It’s her job.”
“You said you had an agenda.”
“I didn’t, at first,” McCallister said. “I took the job in good faith, and for the first year, it was fine. Normal corporate security issues, a few employees diddling the books or stealing from the supply rooms or cooking expenses. Then two scientists invented Returné, and everything changed overnight. It wasn’t a company anymore; it was an armed camp. The implications of what they have are staggering.”
“Department of Defense,” Bryn said.
“Oh, they’ll sell it to the government, but Pharmadene has bigger plans than a defense contract. Before they jump, they want to be sure what they have, and what they can do with it. Why make an official deal when they can sell it under the table as a black-market terrorist’s wet dream?” McCallister sounded grim, and certain. “I knew how it was going to play. Someone had to do something. I thought about blowing the whistle, but there’s nobody I can go to who won’t get sucked into the whirlpool. The government? It has to be destroyed from inside.”
“How’s that working out for you?” Manny asked. It sounded cynical, as if he already knew the answer.