Free Crime Zero by Michael Cordy Page A

screwed to the wooden floor. After taking a key from her pocket, she unlocked the trunk and lifted the lid. She then reached into her briefcase, took out a computer disc and a copy of the folder she had prepared for her key meeting with Madeline Naylor tomorrow, and placed them in the trunk. She put the disc into a plastic case alongside the thirty or so discs already there and laid the folder on a pile of similar files.
    Along with a few personal photos and artifacts that had only sentimental value the trunk contained copies of every major document, journal, and experiment marking the development of Project Conscience. This was her personal record of her life's work, proof of what she had done, regardless of whatever anyone else might claim or say in the future. She regarded it as safe because no burglar would think to look here, and if any did, he would hesitate about disturbing Rocky.
    In that trunk were recorded all the disappointments and triumphs that had led to this moment. And in the early days she and the team had experienced their fair share of scares. There had been a marginal risk of her original serum's increasing the risk of testicular cancer in the test primates and their first male born. Although the numbers had been small, they had changed the calibration four times, fine-tuning them in iterative steps, until any hint of the problem was removed. When other concerns, minor but possible, had come to light, they had done the same. Nothing was left to chance, and Kathy had been pleasantly surprised how keen her FBI and ViroVector sponsors had been about her findings' being thorough. "Don't cut any corners," Alice Prince had said with that distant smile of hers. "Spend all the time and money you need. Just make sure that when we go to the FDA, we gain approval." That patience was rare and made up for many of the other constraints.
    Now nine versions later the team had developed a viral vector that the FDA had deemed safe on normal human volunteers. Of course Kathy still had years of trials to go before she could prove it actually worked on violent offenders, but given how few real changes she'd had to make from her original primate thesis to get here, she was confident. Plus all the data she'd used from the genomes of violent criminals on the FBI DNA database had allowed her to fine-tune the calibrations.
    As Kathy left the pen and locked the door behind her, she noticed a woman on the small TV screen. She stood behind a lectern in a tailored navy blue suit that set off her trim figure. Governor Pamela Weiss was over fifty, but the camera loved her. Her neat, lustrous bob of auburn hair contained few silver streaks, and her exquisite bone structure had fended off time better than any plastic surgeon's scalpel.
    With her height and piercing blue eyes she seemed to look right out of the screen directly at Kathy. The woman had true charisma, and Kathy found herself sitting down on the stoop and turning the screen toward her and increasing the volume.
    She had no real interest in politics, but since acquiring
    U.S. citizenship,she had become more aware of the upcoming election. She also got a kick out of seeing a woman run as the Democratic candidate with a chance of becoming the first ever female President. Not only was Pamela Weiss media-friendly, but she seemed to possess real integrity.
    By contrast her opponent, the gray-haired, gray-suited Republican senator George Tilson, had the bland good looks of a soap star. But he was a general who had fought in Desert Storm eighteen years ago, and with the Iraq crisis looming he was leading in the opinion polls by thirteen points. Despite Weiss's appeal, the Republicans were on track to succeed the outgoing Democratic President, Bob Burbank, next Tuesday.
    Kathy never watched live political debates because they were invariably boring set pieces of hollow rhetoric. But Weiss interested her. The candidates stood facing each other behind lecterns on an otherwise bare stage. A