Chapter 89: Protective Custody

The box on the table was small, wrapped in brown paper, just like the package that had arrived at the rental house. I stared at it, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"Who are you?" I repeated, my hand reaching for Ben's arm.

"I'm the one who paid for the crib," she said again, her voice rasping like dry leaves. "For the facility. For the research."

"You're the Board," I said. "One of the buyers."

"I am the Chairwoman," she corrected. "And I don't like unfinished business."

She gestured to the box.

"Open it."

Ben moved to intercept, but she held up a hand.

"It's not a bomb, Mr. Miller. It's a peace offering."

I picked up the box. It was heavy. I tore the paper.

Inside was a hard drive. Identical to the one I had given the press.

"You have copies," I said.

"We have originals," she said. "Vance was thorough, but he wasn't exclusive. We have our own archives."

She sat in the visitor's chair, crossing her legs. She looked like a kindly grandmother, except for the cold, calculating green eyes.

"The story is out, Ms. Sterling. The damage is done. The Trust is ruined. Our assets are frozen. The police are kicking down doors as we speak."

"Good," I said.

"Is it?" she asked. "Because while the hydra is bleeding, the heads are still biting."

She leaned forward.

"Subject 12. Or as I like to call him, the Liability."

"What about him?"

"He has the child. And he has the list. My list. The list of every powerful person who invested in the Gemini Project."

"He's going to expose you," I said.

"He's going to blackmail us," she corrected. "He's already started. He sent a demand an hour ago. Ten million dollars in cryptocurrency, or he releases the names."

"Let him," I said. "You deserve it."

"Perhaps," she said. "But if he releases those names, he doesn't just destroy us. He destroys himself. And he destroys the child."

She pointed to Leo.

"And he destroys your son's only source of future marrow."

I froze.

"What do you mean?"

"The marrow you gave him... it's finite," she said. "It will cure the immediate crisis. But the modifications... they're unstable. He will need boosters. For the rest of his life."

She looked at me with pity.

"You saved him today, Sarah. But you didn't save him forever. For that, you need the source."

"Subject 12," I whispered.

"No," she said. "Subject 12 is a first-generation prototype. His marrow is... flawed. Aggressive. It would kill your son in a year."

She pointed to the empty space where the second baby should have been.

"You need the spare. Generation Four. The perfected strain."

I looked at the box.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want the baby back," she said. "And you want your son to live."

She stood up.

"Subject 12 is meeting us. Tonight. At the docks. He thinks he's getting paid. He's getting a bullet."

"You want me to help you kill him?"

"I want you to help me retrieve the asset," she said. "My security team is... blunt. They might damage the merchandise. You have a connection to him. He saved you."

"He saved himself," I said.

"He hesitated," she said. "That's a weakness. One you can exploit."

She walked to the door.

"The meeting is at midnight. Pier 4. Come alone. Or don't come at all. But if you don't..."

She looked at Leo one last time.

"Enjoy him while you can."

She left.

The room was silent.

"She's lying," Ben said. "She has to be."

"About the marrow?" I asked. "Or the meeting?"

"Both," Lucia said. "It's a trap."

"It's always a trap," I said. "But she's right about one thing. Subject 12 has the baby. And if the Board gets to him first..."

"They'll kill the baby," Ben said. "Or lock him in a lab for the rest of his life."

I looked at the hard drive.

"We have to go," I said.

"To the docks?" Ben asked.

"Yes," I said. "But not alone."

I picked up the phone. I dialed Miller.

"Get your camera," I said. "We have a sequel."

I looked at Leo. He was sleeping peacefully, his color returning.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I have to leave you again."

"I'll stay," Lucia said. "I'll guard him with my life."

I kissed her cheek. Then I turned to Ben.

"Let's go get the spare."

We left the hospital, slipping out the back way again. The city was dark now, the streets slick with rain.

We drove to the docks. It was an industrial wasteland, shipping containers stacked like skyscrapers.

Pier 4 was at the end of a long, dark road.

"Park here," I said. "We walk the rest."

We crept through the shadows, moving between the containers.

At the end of the pier, under a single, flickering light, sat the Packard.

Subject 12 was leaning against the hood. He was smoking a cigarette. He looked relaxed. Arrogant.

And next to him, on the ground, was a car seat.

"He brought the baby," Ben whispered.

"He's using him as a shield," I said.

A black SUV pulled up. The Chairwoman stepped out, flanked by two armed guards.

"You're late," Subject 12 called out.

"Traffic," the Chairwoman said. "Do you have it?"

"Do you have the money?"

"Transfer pending," she said. "Show me the asset."

Subject 12 reached into the car seat. He pulled out the bundle.

The baby cried.

"He's loud," Subject 12 said. "But healthy."

"Hand him over," the Chairwoman said.

"Money first."

The Chairwoman nodded to one of the guards. He raised a tablet.

"Transferred."

Subject 12 checked his phone. He smiled.

"Pleasure doing business."

He walked forward, holding the baby out.

The Chairwoman reached for him.

"Now!" I yelled.

Ben threw a flashbang grenade—stolen from the warehouse—into the center of the group.

*Bang.*

White light. Deafening noise.

I ran.

Subject 12 stumbled back, dropping the baby.

I dove.

I caught the bundle before it hit the ground.

"Go!" I screamed at Ben.

I scrambled up, clutching the baby. The guards were firing blindly into the smoke.

Subject 12 wasn't blinded. He had been wearing sunglasses.

He tackled me.

We hit the ground hard. The baby rolled away, screaming.

Subject 12 pinned me down, his hands on my throat.

"You stupid bitch," he hissed. "You ruined everything."

"I'm saving you," I choked out. "They were going to kill you."

"I know!" he yelled. "That's why the car is rigged!"

He looked at the Packard.

"It's a bomb, Sarah! A rolling bomb!"

He let go of my throat.

"Get the kid!" he shouted. "Run!"

I scrambled for the baby. Ben was providing cover fire with a stolen pistol.

Subject 12 ran for the Chairwoman. She was trying to get back into her SUV.

He grabbed her.

"Let's go for a ride, Grandma," he said.

He threw her into the Packard. He jumped into the driver's seat.

He slammed the door.

He didn't drive away. He drove *at* them.

He drove straight at the SUV. Straight at the guards.

And straight off the end of the pier.

The Packard flew into the air.

And then it detonated.

The explosion lit up the harbor, a massive fireball that turned the night into day.

I shielded the baby, burying my face in his blanket.

When I looked up, the pier was empty. The SUV was burning. The guards were gone.

And the Packard was gone.

Subject 12 was gone.

I stood up, shaking. The baby was crying in my arms.

"Sarah," Ben said, running to me. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I said.

I looked at the water. Debris was floating on the surface. Burning oil.

"He did it," I whispered. "He ended it."

But then, I heard it.

A sound from the water.

Not a splash.

A cough.

I ran to the edge of the pier.

Clinging to a piling, half-submerged in the oily water, was a figure.

Not Subject 12.

Not the Chairwoman.

It was Clara.

She hadn't been in the NICU. She hadn't been in the explosion.

She had been following us.

She looked up at me, her face pale, her eyes burning with hate.

"My baby," she hissed. "Give me my baby."