Virtually His. Gennita Low

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ report. I promise…once…headache gone…I’ll look again. I’ll find out everything…. Please.”

      “Give him another dose. We don’t have time for you to rest, 15. We know you like floating out there, messing with God knows what—”

      Another dose? They’re giving me another dose so quickly? “Oh yes, I can do this with another dose. I’m ready, of course I’m ready.” I’ll stay away from the force this time. I’ll focus in on that voice and find out for them….

      Zoom. Zoom. Oh, this is fine. Look at all the pretty lights moving so quickly. I don’t even have to adjust anything and I can still get them in focus! So cool. I don’t even need to hear the monitor’s voice anymore. No need to stay grounded anymore. What the hell for? I can stay out here and play with the lights….

      COS COMMAND CENTER (COMCEN)

      Kevin Kirkland liked standing where he was, listening in to the conversation that few were privileged to hear. Part of the reason came from knowing that no one from the Pentagon, except the other man in the room, knew that he was here. It put him in a trusted position, and he knew the man talking right now didn’t trust many people. Strangely enough, that was the topic of conversation at the moment.

      “If you want her to trust me, then you’ll have to let me handle this my way. Her agency is now merged with mine, and I have more knowledge of GEM operation procedures than anyone in this room.”

      The man’s voice was quiet and firm, with an underlying steeliness. From his angle, Kirkland had an excellent view of the wide screen. Four of the men were in uniform. The other five were heads of departments connected to high levels of national security. Their attention ranged from direct interest to skepticism.

      “This is a Classified Flux type project. We’ve always monitored every operational target,” one of the men in uniform said. “This will be the first time we’re using an ordinary outside operative and giving her free rein to achieve a mission. You’re the monitor for us. Letting you handle this your way, as you put it, can put every mission in jeopardy.”

      “The COS Center is possibly all Classified Flux, and we aren’t monitored in the way the military has to be, sir. I’m part of the V-Program, also a Classified Red project, and the success rate in our missions depended on our autonomy and secrecy. As for Miss Roston, I doubt anyone else would call her an ordinary operative, sir.”

      “Aside from her being a woman, she’s still a contract agent, nothing we could count on,” one of the men pointed out.

      “She’s from GEM and the operatives from there are highly regarded by every covert agency, national and foreign. COS Center has been working with them the last few years and our partnership has been very successful.

      “Part of it is due to our training, but most of it is because of the ability of each operative to make quick decisions during his or her mission. In Miss Roston’s case, it becomes complicated with every agency—CIA, DIA, NSA, INSCOM just to name a few—having trained her and wanting to claim her as their own, if the experiment is a success. There is a danger of information dissemination, of too many cooks spoiling the broth. She’s GEM and therefore, she’s mine. This project belongs to COS.”

      There was shocked silence as the men digested the speech.

      “You’re saying that you want to make all the major decisions of every operational target, that we’re to listen to you?” The incredulity in the man’s voice echoed the stares of the others around the table.

      “Yes. Have a good day, gentlemen.”

      The man cut off the satellite feed and turned away from the screen. He punched the intercom on his desk. “Tell Derek to get the room ready.”

      Now that the camera was off, Kirkland came forward. He’d listened in often enough to know exactly when to interrupt. He watched as his test patient unbuttoned his shirt with one hand while offering his other arm.

      After a few minutes, Kirkland rubbed alcohol and drew blood, then checked his stats. He labeled the tubes, putting them away in a small case. “Same questions—no nicotine, alcohol or caffeine the past twelve hours?”

      “No.”

      “How’s the stress level today?”

      “I haven’t killed anyone today.”

      “At least you’re retaining your sense of humor after pissing off some of the most powerful men in our country.”

      “It’s relaxing. You ought to try it sometime, Kirkland.”

      “To each his own. Of course, I feel quite powerful now knowing that I have more information on what COS Center has been doing with Miss Roston.” The doctor smiled at the direct stare of the man in the chair. “Yes, I understand. That also means I’m potentially in more danger than most people.”

      “Yes.”

      “Don’t you worry they’ll axe you?”

      “No.”

      “Why, if I may ask?”

      A glimmer of humor appeared in the other man’s eyes. “They don’t like working with each other, Kirkland. They hate having things out of their hands. Yet someone more powerful than they are is ordering them to continue this research, year after year. Why?”

      Kirkland cleared his throat. The answer was pretty obvious. Everyone wanted their own COS success story. “Because covert and subversive training work?”

      The man straightened his elbow and Kirkland placed the Band-Aid over his vein. “The success rate tells the story. And as long as it remains so, they won’t question how we run things here. We pick and choose what we do, and we give them the results.”

      “It was nice to see you defending Miss Roston, especially with their remarks about her being a woman. After working with her these past few months, I find her more than just the test subject those people view her.”

      “Really?”

      “Don’t you like her? You’ve talked to her, seen her up close.”

      There was a pause. The man stood up and buttoned his open shirt. “She does have a sense of humor.”

      “Especially the way she made you up as in the VR program.”

      “Is this relevant for your evaluation?”

      “No. But I’m curious about your reaction, that’s all. How does it feel to be seen as something you aren’t?”

      The usually serious face of the project monitor cracked a slight smile. “I’m not the one who needs psych evaluation, Doc. She is. I’ve been through enough tests in this lifetime to know what you’re up to.”

      The doctor sighed. Closing the file, he tucked it under his arm. “I suppose that’s why you’re the best for this phase. You have the experience to guide her, especially if the serum doesn’t go well with her system.”

      “The test dose will tell.”

      “The previous tests with soldiers gave the exact results we wanted, although we don’t know СКАЧАТЬ