“Fuck off.”
“See you later, Scully. And don’t go anywhere. This is top secret and on the president’s highest priority.”
“Fine.”
“There is one more thing.” Stopping at my door, he raises his brows and I roll my eyes.
“Don’t tell me. Zombies? Werewolves?”
“You’re not to tell anyone else about this assignment.”
For crying out loud. “Seriously, Kessler? You think I want people knowing I’m investigating the possibility of witches?”
“Altered human genomes. Think of it as the new Area Fifty-One.” He leaves, snickering as he high fives someone down the hall.
“Payback is a bitch, dude,” I mutter to Catrina who purrs at my feet. “I will write the most outrageous report on paranormal gene splicing, even if I have to make shit up.
However, I first need to find out if there are labs out there. Perhaps I’ll simply search for studies associated with mental illness… close enough.
I scour the internet for a couple hours, engrossed. Who knew? The Soviets have been studying parapsychology for over twenty five years. I need a special kind of program to sift through the pile.
The government’s smarter, faster, version of Alexa pops up on my computer screen. “Hello Samantha. How can I help you?”
“Jason, I’ve been asked to research the possibility of foreign powers using gene splicing to create… ah… supermen.”
“Give me a few moments.” His image appears as if he’s typing away on the keyboard, complete with sound effects.
He returns seconds later. “There are more than five million mentions online. You will need to narrow your questioning.”
“Okay…” Good God, I had no idea. “How about human gene splicing coupled with extra sensory abilities.”
He sends me several links and as I open them, he explains. “The Russians and the Chinese are working in this field but have made nothing public.”
“How about the United States?” I skim through the material, astounded how scientists are actually performing weird-ass experiments on babies.
“The US research is limited to animal trials only.”
Holy shit. “And?”
“I will send you what I can.”
“Do you know why the president is so concerned?” I pet Catrina who senses I am freaking the fuck out.
“The Russian leader bragged about his country’s superior results during their last meeting.”
“You mean with gene splicing for ESP?”
“That and other things.” The avatar blinks out the screen at me. Dressed in a white shirt and narrow black tie, he’s either modeling Men in Black, or perhaps, the Blues Brothers.
The artificial intelligence unit is not programmed to be obtuse so I’m guessing whatever he knows is above my security clearance. “Like what other things?”
“Unknown.”Bingo.
“Well, whowouldknow?”
“A Russian named Vladimir Oblonsky.” The picture of a hot, thirtyish European with gorgeous dark eyes pops up on my screen.
“Where is he now?”
