Free Transhuman by Ben Bova Page B

be better for Angie.
    If Yolanda isn’t so pissed off that she’ll tell the FBI we’re here.
    Tamara broke into his thoughts. “I’m going to stay here tonight,” she whispered.
    â€œOh?”
    â€œI’ve made arrangements with the staff. They have guest rooms for relatives right here in the building.”
    Luke huffed. “Maybe we should let Yolanda know.”
    â€œShe’ll know.”
    He nodded and headed for the door, Tamara beside him. Out in the empty, silent corridor, he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
    â€œTomorrow I’m going to put a port in your chest.”
    Luke’s blood ran cold. “A port? I don’t want one of those things attached to my chest or anywhere else. It’s like having a plastic leech hanging on me.”
    She gave him a disapproving frown. “It’s better than sticking you every day. You’ll look like a drug addict, with all the bruises.”
    His face twisted with revulsion.
    â€œAfter the first half hour you won’t even notice that it’s there.”
    â€œYes I will. I don’t want it.”
    â€œYou’d rather be stuck every day?” Tamara argued. “With a port, I just put the needle into the valve, not in your arm.”
    â€œBut the damned thing is in my chest all the time.”
    She sighed. “Your granddaughter has one. You don’t see her complaining about it.”
    Luke stared at Tamara, then muttered, with a reluctant nod, “You’re the doctor.”
    â€œThat’s right,” she said. “I am.”
    Grousing to himself, Luke went out into the cold night and climbed into the SUV. He poked at the GPS box sitting atop the dashboard to find a gas station. Goddamned van gobbles gas like an Army tank, he thought.
    Once he’d filled the van’s capacious fuel tank, he went into the station’s minimart to pay in cash. And find the men’s room. Fill the gas tank and empty the bladder, he mused. At least I don’t have to fill the SUV every couple of hours.
    As he left the men’s room, Luke spotted a display of throwaway cell phones next to the cashier’s stand. He took one, paid cash, and bought a hundred minutes on it.
    Glancing at the clock on the wall, he thought, They’ll be asleep by now. I’ll just leave a quick message on their answering machine.
    He was surprised when Del picked up on the first ring.
    â€œDel? It’s me, Luke. Listen, Angie’s doing fine—”
    â€œLuke! Wait a minute, Lenore’s getting ready for bed, but I know she’ll want to talk to you.”
    He heard Del calling for his wife. Luke fidgeted uncertainly for a few seconds, then clicked the phone off. I told them Angie’s okay. That’s enough. Maybe the FBI can trace cell phone calls, he thought. Nervous, uncertain, he dropped the cell phone in the first trash bin he passed.
    Then he drove back to the motel and slept fitfully until daybreak.
    *   *   *
    T AMARA WAS WAITING for him in Angela’s room, with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
    â€œGood morning,” Luke said softly as he entered the room. “How is she?”
    â€œShe’s holding her own. We’re scheduled for the scans in an hour.”
    Luke looked down at his granddaughter. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully enough. “Has she eaten anything?”
    â€œIntravenously,” said Tamara.
    Luke sank into one of the easy chairs.
    Her lips curling into an almost impish smile, Tamara said, “It’s time for you to get your port.”
    â€œNow?”
    â€œYou gave me a schedule, and I intend to keep it. Now take off your jacket and unbutton your shirt.”
    He watched her pull a gray plastic port and a hypodermic syringe out of a case on the table, then a small bottle of alcohol and a wiper pad. All in one neat package, Luke said to himself. The vial of enzymes sat on the table beside the