Free Jezebel's Ladder by Scott Rhine Page A

the door, she
said, “Nena didn’t have an apartment yet, so I had her sleep over. No big deal.”
    When Daniel didn’t move from the
spot, the dime dropped. There hadn’t been pajamas in the girl’s bag. She
couldn’t ream the guy out for saving her job. Instead, she grabbed the handles
of his wheelchair, and pushed. “Down, boy! Stay out of my room.”
    After they climbed into their ride,
while the driver placed the wheelchair in the trunk, Jez fussed with her hair
in the rearview mirror. “I look like hell.”
    Daniel was still grinning. “You are
a goddess, my hero.” He handed her a highly caffeinated soda from his saddle
bag. “What’s Nena like?”
    Jez frantically combed and cursed. “She’s
very friendly and would give you the shirt off her back. I’d classify her as
incredibly sweet but a teensy bit high-maintenance. Her only weakness so
far is her makeup cases. I’ve seen smaller tackle boxes on a professional bass
boat. Half of it is specially formulated, some of it she uses on her body. And
she won’t let anyone else touch the stuff. I think it’s residual privacy issues
from growing up in the orphanage. You both have the no-original-parents thing
in common.”
    Daniel nodded. “Keep my hands off
her makeup. Anything else important I should know?”
    They chatted the whole drive, Jez
struggling to stay awake.
    ****
    The conference room was packed. The
head of the table was taken by a wide-screen TV that displayed Fortune’s face.
A diagram on the opposite wall showed the chemical company’s departmental
structure. Trench Coat glared at Jez as she entered. They were already several
minutes into the meeting, and he wasn’t going to repeat himself. She let the
Brit drone on about corporate holdings until he said, “Here’s where Smurfette’s
data was critical.”
    Jez knew immediately who he was
referring to, but Daniel objected before she could. “You can’t call Nena that.”
    Trench Coat raised an eyebrow. “We
don’t like to change code names once established. Can you name any other traits
of hers that another agent would recognize without hesitation?” He then
proceeded to name a few as Jez seethed.
    Benny, sitting next to her, touched
her hand and gave his head a miniscule shake. This was bait, and she shouldn’t
rise to it. She had to pick her battles with the department heads.
    Daniel panicked under the pressure.
“When she was in gymnastics, her picture was on the Cornflakes box for about a
week. She embodies the image of the Cornflake girl.”
    Fortune cackled on his view screen.
“Flakes. Hah! It’s perfect. Trench Coat, give the boy what he wants.” Thus,
Daniel spent his political capital for the meeting.
    Jez lost focus for a few minutes
until the photo of a hideous man appeared on the screen. He had a nose like
W.C. Fields, but the sneer and scar from a World War II Nazi movie. “Our
primary focus is their chief scientist, Dr. Samuel Godfrey Wannamaker. At
sixty, this genius geneticist has over twenty recorded patents. His best work
remains under the umbrella of trade secrets. He’s offered his expertise to
several government agencies, foreign and domestic.”
    Benny asked, “Why the sudden shift
to private sector?”
    Trench Coat said, “He was forced
into the arms of the chemical company by a radical, anti-genetic-modification,
eco-terrorist group called Whirlwind. He changes his name regularly, but they
located him again by the signature on a prototype grain. Whirlwind accuses him
of setting up a worldwide potato famine. In their press releases, their leader,
his son Seth, calls him ‘God Wannabe.’”
     “Son?” Jez burst out. “What? Did
he toss into a Petri dish?”
    Crusader leafed through some notes.
“In all probability, yes. My profile shows that he prefers little boys.”
    “Probably why Seth hates him so
much,” Benny guessed.
    Trench Coat said, “Actually, Seth
was a failed experiment. Before these sorts of procedures were banned in the US,