“Hell no, I’m not taking you anywhere!”
“Look at me, Michael.” I struggled to control my voice. To keep from shouting. “Don’t I look normal again? It’s over.” Though the sickening wet sliding sounds to my left said otherwise. “And you’re wearing gloves. I’m not going to hurt you. But I need to see Vandekamp.”
“You’re not going to see anything but the inside of a hole in the ground!”
His backup would arrive any second. Out of time and options, I sucked in a deep breath and spat out the truth. “Michael, I’m pregnant.”
“What?” The hand clutching his radio fell to his side.
“I’m pregnant. But instead of strapping me to that bastard’s table, someone’s been making sure I’m isolated from everyone else, and that I get good food, vitamins and exercise. I need to know why. I need to know what’s happening to me.”
Pagano’s unfocused gaze fell to the floor. “I just thought... You’re an exception. A problem. They said that was why they isolated you. And I don’t know what they feed the others, so...” He shrugged, and his gaze found mine again. “I never put the pieces together.”
“Vandekamp has all the pieces. Take me to him, before—” The hum of the elevator cut me off, as it was called back to the first floor. “Please. We can take the stairs.”
“I can’t—”
I glanced at the elevator doors, and each beat of my heart felt like the tick of a clock counting down. “If you don’t, I’ll tell everyone who steps out of that elevator that I’m pregnant. You know damn well that if your boss wanted anyone else to know, he wouldn’t have isolated me.”
Pagano aimed his remote control, obviously ready to electronically silence me.
“The next time I can talk, I’ll tell Vandekamp it’s your baby.” The threat flew from my mouth like one long word. “He’ll fire you long before the paternity results come in.”
The handler hesitated, obviously trying to think that through in a hurry.
I glanced pointedly at the stairwell. “If you want to keep your job, get me out of here. Now.”
Behind him, the elevator rumbled as it descended toward us, and he drew in a panicked breath. “Fine. Come on.” He pushed through the glass door and headed for the stairwell to the left of the elevator, and I raced after him. The door closed behind us just as the elevator slid open, and for a moment, we stood frozen, listening as several sets of heavy boots clomped into the foyer we’d just vacated. Voices shouted for space and supplies as handlers and medics descended upon Dr. Hill.
“Turn around,” Pagano ordered in a whisper, pulling a set of padded cuffs from his belt. He restrained me, then led me quickly up the stairs and out of the building through a rear exit.
“Do you know who the father is?” Pagano asked as he escorted me swiftly through the topiary garden, where the sun reflecting from the fountain nearly blinded me. There was a strange quality to his voice. As if his question wasn’t really a question.
“Doyou?” I asked.
Instead of answering, he marched me straight through the main building to Vandekamp’s office, where the secretary tersely informed us that we didn’t have an appointment.
“Is he with someone?” Pagano demanded. She shook her head. “Then he’ll want to see us.”
As we marched past her desk, she pressed a button and warned her boss. His office door opened before Pagano could knock.
“Why isn’t she in an observation cell, writhing in a great deal of pain?” Vandekamp demanded. “Because those are the orders I sent your backup in with.”
Pagano lowered his voice. “She’s threatening to spill sensitive information.”
The secretary leaned forward for a better view and, presumably, better hearing.
“What sensitive information?” Vandekamp demanded, still blocking his office doorway.
“I think I should let her speak for herself.”
“Bullshit.” But the boss finally stepped back and waved us into his office. He slammed the door behind us, then marched straight to his desk and picked up a remote control, which he aimed at my neck. “Explain yourself.”
“Explainyourself,” I spat, before I could rethink my approach. “Why am I still pregnant, when Lenore and Magnolia are not?”
For one long moment Vandekamp’s expression registered no change. Then he frowned and his lips moved silently, repeating the question, trying to make sense of it. “Stillpregnant?”
“You didn’t know?” I studied him, trying to find truth in features trained for showmanship. For politics.
