to start.” She was as clearly exasperated at the facility’s level of unpreparedness as he was and when they locked eyes they shrugged at the same time and then smiled.
After a few seconds her smile faltered. “Is there anything I can help you with, Mr. Deckard?”
He swore inwardly at his foolishness—he’d been staring at her. It was hard not to when she smiled. Dr. Thuy Lee was absolutely, exotically beautiful. Her features were a study in perfection. After the first time they had met in Kip’s office, he’d pulled her file: Thuy Heather Lee: age thirty-seven; Vietnamese/American war baby. Born in Saigon in the closing days of the Vietnam War and smuggled out of the country in a cardboard box by her desperate mother. She possessed a bachelor's degree in chemistry from Yale University and a Doctorate in Molecular Microbiology and Immunology from Johns Hopkins. Among her many credits she had published thirteen papers, none of which held Deck’s attention beyond their lengthy titles.
She was brilliant, but it was a tossup whether her unique beauty was greater than her intelligence. Both left Deck a little tongue-tied.
“I, uh…yes. There is something more that I…I mean you can help me with.” He coughed, making a pretext to break eye contact so that he could order his thoughts. “It’s the Com-cell. I need to know more about it if I’m going to have any hope of tracking the leak.” Now it was her turn to look away. He let out a little barking laugh. “You don’t trust the man who is supposed to be protecting you and your secrets?”
"I don't know you well enough to trust you," she answered, truthfully. “It’s a question of motivation. Some people around here consider you little more than a mercenary and from what I understand about mercenaries, it’s money that drives them. If that's the case I'm being wise not to divulge anything beyond what you need to know.”
"Would it matter to you to know I did not seek this position out? Mr. Rothchild came looking for me because I have a reputation. This is not the first time I could have sold out my employers for a ton of money."
Edmund Rothchild had promised Thuy that Deckard was as honest as they came, however the Com-cell was worth a lot more than a ton of money. "Supposedly everyone has their price," she remarked.
"Except you of course," Deck shot back.
Her large doe-eyes narrowed slightly before she answered, "I don't think you can understand what motivates me."
This made him laugh. "Of course I can understand. In spite of how smart you are, you're still human. We all have the same underlying desires: success, security, popularity...love. Your main motivation is obvious: it's fame. You will be the woman who cured cancer. That is way bigger than money as a motivating force. It may even be bigger than love."
She flashed a quick smile. It was there one moment and then gone the next and though it was brief, it hinted that there was a deeper warmth to her that she tried hard to keep hidden. “Ok, sure, I won't deny it. Yes, it will be something to put my name on a cure for cancer. But that's not the only reason I began this research.”
"Of course not," Deckard said. "Your mother, born Hue Le, changed her name in ’75 to Heather Lee when she emigrated to the U.S. She died of breast cancer in 2003. She had just turned fifty.”
Instead of a return of that quick smile, her eyes grew more guarded. “You seem to know a lot already.”
“It’s my job. I know you scientists think of me as little more than a mall-cop in a nice suit, but I'm being tasked with guarding, not only a billion dollar secret, but billion dollar minds as well.” There was the smile again! Like a shooting star, he caught just a glimpse and had to fight his lips not to reply in kind.
“Billion dollar mind is a bit much,” Thuy said. “I’m worth maybe nine hundred million, tops.”
Without realizing it he stepped closer to her. He was a tall man, thick through the