Shadowfires

magnificent, almost country-style
mansions, and others were neatly kept but humble summer cottages. In
other places, the land was either government-owned or too steep to
provide building sites, and the wilderness encroached in a weedy and
brambled tangle of trees. A lot of dry brush had built up, too, and
signs warned of the fire danger, an annual summer-autumn threat
throughout southern California. The road snaked and rolled, climbed
and fell, through alternating patches of shade and golden
sunlight.
    After a couple of minutes, Rachael said, “They can't really believe we stole defense secrets.”
    “No,” Ben agreed.
    “I mean, I didn't even know Geneplan had defense contracts.”
    “That's not what they're worried about. It's a cover story.”
    “Then why are they so eager to get their hands on us?”
    “Because we know that Eric has… come back.”
    “And you think the government knows, too?” she asked.
    “You said the Wildcard project was a closely held secret. The only
people who knew were Eric, his partners in Geneplan, and you.”
    “That's right.”
    “But if Geneplan had its hand in the
Pentagon's pocket on other projects, then you can bet the Pentagon knew everything worth knowing about the owners of Geneplan and what they were up to. You can't
accept lucrative top-secret research work and at the same time hold
on to your privacy.”
    “That makes sense,” she said. “But Eric might not have realized
it. Eric believed he could have the best of everyone, all the
time.”
    A road sign warned of a dip in the pavement. Ben braked, and the
Ford jolted over a rough patch, springs squeaking, frame rattling.
    When they came through to smoother blacktop, he said, “So the
Pentagon knew enough about Wildcard to realize what Eric had done to
himself when his body disappeared from the morgue. And now they want
to contain the story, keep the secret, because they see it as a
weapon or, at least, as a source of tremendous power.”
    “Power?”
    “If perfected, the Wildcard process might mean immortality to
those who undergo treatment. So the people who control Wildcard will
decide who lives forever and who doesn't. Can you imagine any better weapon, any better tool with which to establish political control of the whole damn world?”
    Rachael was silent awhile. Then she said softly, “Jesus,
I've been so focused on the personal aspects of this, so intent on what it means to me, that I haven't
looked at it from a broader perspective.”
    “So they have to get hold of us,” Ben said.
    “They don't want us blowing the secret till Wildcard's perfected.
If it were blown first, they couldn't continue research unhampered.”
    “Exactly. Since you're going to inherit the largest block of stock in Geneplan, the government might figure you can be persuaded to cooperate for the good of your country and for your own gain.”
    She shook her head. “I
couldn't be persuaded. Not about this. For one thing, if there's any
hope at all of dramatically extending the human life span and
promoting healing through genetic engineering, then the research
should be done publicly, and the benefits should be available to
everyone. It's immoral to handle it any other way.”
    “I figured that's how you'd feel,” he said, pulling the Ford
through a sharp right-hand turn, then sharply to the left again.
    “Besides, I
couldn't be persuaded to continue research along the same avenue the Wildcard group has been following, because I'm
sure it's the wrong route.”
    “I knew you'd say that,” Ben said approvingly.
    “Admittedly, I know very little about genetics, but I can see
there's just too much danger involved in the approach they're taking.
Remember the mice I told you about. And remember… the blood in the
trunk of the car at the house in Villa Park.”
    He remembered, which was one reason he had wanted the shotgun.
    She said, “If I took control of Geneplan, I might want to fund
continued longevity research, but I'd insist on scrapping Wildcard and starting fresh from a new direction.”
    “I knew
you'd say that, too,” Ben told her, “and I figure the government also has a pretty good idea what you'd
say. So I
don't have much hope that they just want a chance to persuade you. If they know anything about you-and as Eric's
wife, you've got to be in their files-then they know you couldn't be
bribed or threatened into doing something you thought was really
wrong, couldn't be corrupted. So they probably won't even bother