Page 68 of Savage Beauty

She sounds down. Her calf slides back between mine, and my thigh rises to hers. Looking for a job, I get. Transitions suck, so I also get sounding down about that. But… “What things need to be handled at Langley?”

“Jack Sullivan recommended I meet with some people there. Plus, a guy from the NSA. Logan McDowell. They want to hear more about what I experienced in Cambodia.”

“And what, exactly, did you experience?” I know the highlights. Saw the outside of the compound. But she said they didn’t hurt her.

“It’s not so much, I guess, what I experienced, but what I was doing. I mean, you know, lots of governments know about the compounds. And they have questions. And the blood testing I did. I guess they want to ask about that.”

“Why would you need to meet with the CIA about that?”

“I suppose it’s an international concern?”

“Are you nervous?”

“No.” It’s a weighted negative. My arm curves around her belly, holding her as close as possible. “But they’re going to ask me questions. And it’s going to come out that I knew what they were doing, and I participated.”

I tilt my head back on the pillow, shifting beside her.

“You didn’t take anyone out of that compound.”

“I told them who would be the best matches.”

“You didn’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice. And I suspected they didn’t really have Sage. But I kept conducting the tests and updating profiles into a database. They branded identification numbers on the people. On their arms.”

“You didn’t have a choice.”

“I kept thinking that what they were doing wasn’t so bad. Not really. Because those people didn’t have good lives. If they ended up in that compound, they were all out of options. At least there, they got food and a place to sleep. Many of them were immigrants. Not only without homes, but without countries. And, if their organs?—”

“Don’t say it.” I swallow. As a man trained to kill in battle, I understand the minimization of human lives. She shrinks down into the mattress, heavy with guilt. And dammit if I don’t feel guilty. Telling her she can’t speak, as if she’s in the wrong. “I understand the logic. One life to save another life.”

“It’s not ideal. But it’s today’s reality.”

“Do you think the US government is going to get involved? Shut down the compound? Did Jack make it sound like that?” He hasn’t said anything to me about Sloane having these meetings with government goons.

“I don’t know. But…I’ve been thinking a lot about what I found. The source fields I matched. I think someone used the people in those compounds to test something. Maybe someone out there is still using those people. That’s why my data showed a much higher prevalence of cancer in organs originating from Asia. Someone was doing it, but not my lab. That’s not what we do. It would be a company paid to administer testing.”

“There are companies that do that?”

“Oh, yes. In theory, these third parties don’t suffer from business interest conflicts. Most companies conduct tests on human subjects in China or India where the regulations are laxer. But it’s time consuming. I think someone out there was doing broader initial tests in Cambodia. Probably years ago. It’s all about speed to market and innovation, but maybe someone needed to do larger scale dosage testing?” She bites at the corner of her lip, her glazed eyes looking like she’s deep in thought. “But if my theory is correct, Origins isn’t involved in my abduction. We don’t do that kind of market testing. What I’m doing is innovative, but it’s a long-term project. It won’t reap financial benefits for possibly decades. This makes more sense to me than anyone from the black-market organ trade wanting to block my report.”

“But you wanted to submit your report for peer review. It definitely seems like someone wanted to block you from doing that.”

“True. But not my lab. I identified a cancer cluster. I wasn’t aiming to be a whistleblower. The purpose of the data I was collecting was to reinforce the benefits of our research. And I wanted to speak to the investors in their language, looking at it from a financial perspective. I was laser-focused on my project. But the more I think about it, I think I uncovered something bigger. Much bigger. And maybe peer review would invite those who focus on researching cancer clusters. But if I’m correct, the one piece that makes little sense is why keep me alive?”

My thumb brushes across her nipple. Lightly back and forth. She shifts her arm and squirms, but I don’t want to be pushed away, so I palm her breast and still my hand. “You sound sad, so I’m going to repeat myself. None of this is your fault. Even those people who went missing. You didn’t take them. Nothing happening in that compound falls on your shoulders.”

“There are quite a few reasons to feel sad beyond guilt.”

“Okay. Let’s hear ’em.”

“One, I don’t have a job. And all the research I’ve spent years developing is not progressing. No one is working on it. I couldn’t locate my files.”

“If it’s anywhere on Origin’s servers, Erik’s team will find it.”

“Fine. Even if they do, I don’t own it. The company does. I’ve got to find someone else to fund my research. That’s a lot. A ton of work.”

“I can see that.”

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