Free Jezebel's Ladder by Scott Rhine Page B

Wannamaker took his own DNA and improved everything he could think of. However, in
extending the cell longevity, he broke necessary death cycles. Seth’s cells
multiply too often, causing a hideous, elephant-man effect and tremendous
weight gain. Wannamaker left him to die in an institution, fully aware of the
self-crushing fate that awaited him.”
    “That resentment makes him a prime
candidate for recruitment,” Fortune decided.
    Trench Coat brought up a fuzzy
security photo of a morbidly obese man in the distance, labeled Seth.
    Crusader warned, “He’s a psychopath
like his dad, just a little more charismatic—too unstable for the Ladder
Project.”
    “Still, he could be a useful tool,”
Fortune countered.
    Trench Coat said, “We’re trying to
contact him, but he’s very paranoid. It could take a while.”
    Jez wanted to take a shower. “If
this bastard is tinkering with people, trying to make his own version of the
Master Race, what else has he been doing?”
    Benny looked at her as he said, “That’s
one of the things we needed Oobie to flesh out, and why Trench Coat’s requests
were so urgent. We knew about his first-generation experiments with poppies
that cause fugue state and memory loss.”
    “Plants with tailored genomes that
released airborne poisons when disturbed,” Fortune elaborated.
    “Straight out of the Wizard of
Oz ,” Jez said.
    Trench Coat responded, “Exactly. It
was a non-lethal, defensive-perimeter project for Top Secret installations.”
    “Brilliant work, but too hard to
keep confined to a limited area. Wind and insects can carry the pollen for
miles,” Fortune recalled. “What did he do for second generation? I know he got
those Russian Gulag contracts.”
    Daniel replied, “I had to confirm
this on two dives, because I found it so hard to believe. This guy modified
Irish wolfhounds to the size of ponies, trained to imprint on the kennel owner.
You can spot his handiwork because they have a glow-in-the-dark birthmark at
the base of their neck. He does this luciferin marker to verify the
modifications on all his creations. Over half still fail.”
    “That’s unholy,” Benny said.
    Daniel paused. “It gets worse;
their bite, the saliva, has a paralytic agent.”
    “So you can watch while they eat
you?” asked Jez.
    Trench Coat wasn’t shocked. “No, so
they can drag you back to the Gulag for questioning. Don’t worry. This project
was cancelled because, when the kennel master died unexpectedly, the dogs went
rogue and killed the whole town, prisoners and guards alike.”
    “What was he working on before the
Fossils got him?” Fortune asked.
    Trench Coat changed to a picture of
a medical-research lab’s computer screen.
    “Cures tailored to the genetic
makeup of the person,” Daniel answered. “He needed uninfected, umbilical-cord
blood or the marrow from a close relative.”
    “Is Wannamaker trying for
immortality?” Crusader speculated.
    Fortune shook his head. “No, the
clone would already have any defect he does.” They had a long discussion about
everything gathered from the passwords that Daniel had provided. “Where are
they keeping their Golden Tickets?”
    Trench Coat answered, “We think he
is storing their pages at the Arkansas chemical plant.”
    “Wait a minute,” Crusader
interrupted, “that’s where Cornflake Girl worked. She called an animal-cruelty
hotline because they were being mean to the doggies. That’s what got her fired.”
    Trench Coat brought up a map of the
plant and turned to Daniel. The teenager sighed. “I don’t know how these were
modified, but all the guard dogs at that site have that same, tell-tale glow
patch under their collars, too.”
    Fortune deduced, “They definitely
have something valuable stored there. What are we waiting for?”
    “That place is tighter than Fort Knox,” Crusader complained.
    Trench Coat replied, “We’re working
on an insertion plan. It would be easier with Seth’s help. His teams