The medical ward looked like a gynecologist’s office from hell. A battery of ultrasound and surgical equipment surrounded her. The exam table she sat on reclined and had stirrups-but there was no padding, no attempt at comfort. It was all cold stainless steel. But most disturbing of all were the thick leather straps meant to secure a patient.
It confirmed her suspicions that most of the human subjects here were forced to cooperate, likely obtained from modern-day slavers, a booming business in the Caribbean. A shudder passed through her as she wondered how many women had been strapped here, forced to endure unimaginable violations.
Finally, her guard Connor came forward. “Let’s go.”
She didn’t resist. She allowed herself to be manhandled off the table and toward the exit. It hurt to walk. Besides drawing blood, the technician had collected a painful bone-marrow biopsy from her hip. She felt the ache with each step, but she knew the worst was yet to come. The preoperative tests were to evaluate hormone levels, along with a genetic assay.
Pending those results, the stirrups and straps awaited her.
Connor kept hold of her elbow and marched her from the room and through a door into an adjoining office. Dr. Malik sat behind the desk, writing in a chart. Behind him rose a bookshelf crammed with texts and journals. From the ragged and dog-eared look to the research library, the volumes weren’t for show. Malik closed the chart as she was shoved into the room. He had a small pair of reading glasses perched on his thin nose and stared over them at Lorna.
“Please have a seat,” he said and waved to a chair. His focus shifted to her bodyguard. “Sergeant Reed, that will be all for now. I’ll summon you when we’re done.”
Connor didn’t move and seemed ready to set down roots. “Commander Kent said I should stay with the prisoner.”
Duncan had given those orders before leaving to investigate her claims about a backup of their research at Compu-Safe.
Malik let out a long sigh. “That won’t be necessary, but if it would make you happy, you can stand guard at the door.”
Connor scowled, looking ready to argue. His fingers tightened on her elbow.
Malik waved dismissively at the guard. “Outside the door, if you don’t mind. Buried down here, there are no windows. Our guest won’t be going anywhere. My office is as good as any jail cell.”
Connor’s scowl deepened, but his fingers released their clamp. Lorna suspected his grip would leave bruises, maybe even fingerprints. He stepped back. “I’ll be right outside the door.”
Malik seemed to have already dismissed him. His gaze focused on Lorna. “Dr. Polk, please have a seat. We have much to discuss. Some of which I suspect you’ll find illuminating.”
Lorna was happy to accept his offer. After all that had happened and the ache in her hip, she didn’t trust her legs. She sank into the seat and gazed around the rest of the office. To the left, the wall was covered with various LCD monitors, centered on a larger fifty-inch plasma screen. Most were dark, though four showed various views of the subterranean facility, including the gynecology room.
He must have been watching it all.
Disgusted, she turned away.
Diplomas and awards covered the other wall. Lorna studied them, anything to help her understand the man behind the desk. Many of the mounted certificates were in foreign languages, including several in Arabic. She recognized one in French-Université Pierre et Marie Curie-and beneath it a credential from the Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique. This last was the largest research organization in France.
No matter his ethics, Dr. Malik was no crackpot.
“We should have your tests completed within the hour,” the man said and leaned forward. “Let me explain what will happen from here. Just so there’s no anxiety.”
Lorna couldn’t tell if the man was being purposely dense about her situation or particularly cruel.
He continued: “After the tests, we’ll design a genetically specific combination of Lupron and Menopur, along with an experimental follicle-stimulating hormone. Normally it takes days before the ovary will be fit for harvesting eggs. But with the technique I’ve developed, it will require only a couple of hours. So we have time to talk.”
Lorna finally found her voice. “What are you planning on doing with my eggs?”
“Trust me, they will be put to good use. We’ll use them for a new embryo hybridization project we’re about to start.”
“What sort of embryos?” Lorna pictured the body on the table.
“That’s not an easy question to answer. And before we get to that, I must first be honest with you. I’ve reviewed your file.”
My file?
“With your background and experience in genetics and breeding, I could find good use for you here at my lab. It would be a waste to discard such a valuable researcher out of hand. And if you remain cooperative, there’s no reason you couldn’t remain on the island.”
“As a prisoner.”
“I’d prefer the word colleague,” Malik said. “And it’s far better than the alternative. Perhaps if you better understood our methodologies and goals, you’d have fewer qualms.”
She wasn’t so sure about that, but she saw no reason not to hear the man out. The longer he was talking, the longer she remained alive.
“Go on,” she said, wanting to know anyway. “What exactly are you all doing here?”
Malik settled back, as if satisfied with this concession-or maybe he merely liked to have someone to talk to. “What are we doing? To even begin to answer that, we’ll have to go back to the very beginning. Are you familiar with the book of Genesis?”
Lorna struggled past this odd non sequitur. “As in the Bible?”
A nod. “ ‘In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.’ ”
Lorna didn’t know what to make of this statement.
A twinkle entered Malik’s eye. “Excuse my bit of hubris. I must be overly affected by our supreme benefactor, Bryce Bennett. He’s a deeply religious man. It’s one of the quotes he often spouts in regard to our work here-and one of the reasons he chose this island for his facility. Lost Eden Cay.” Malik smiled inwardly and shook his head. “Truly, how could he not locate it here?”
“I don’t understand. What does all this have to do with your genetic experiments?”
“All in good time. First let me start with my definition of the grand beginning. The scientific basis of all creation. Bennett has his Word of God. I have something entirely rooted in the scientific method.”