After the bureaucratic exercise of viewing random embryos in the electron microscopes to check that they were being properly preserved, Banks turned to her, barely concealing a sigh. “They’re all there, and they’re being properly preserved.”
She signed the form he handed to her.
Wordlessly, they left the lab and she led him back to the waiting room. It was still empty. He turned to her again, and she thought he was going to shake her hand. He did not.
“I suppose,” he said, “since you’re so caught up, you already know you have to start filing daily counts with us, starting by the end of today.”
She nodded.
“An official notice will be sent to you this afternoon. See you soon, then,” he said, flashing her a sinister smile.
Something about his words unsettled her, and as he walked to the door, she realized why: She had assumed that since the clinic passed the inspection, he would not be returning for another several weeks, per the regular schedule.
“Wait,” she called out.
He turned around.
“What do you mean, soon? How often are these surprise inspections to take place?”
Banks shrugged maddeningly. “I really am not authorized to say. Hence, ‘surprise,’ Dr. Drake.”
“But we passed it. This clinic has passed every inspection and audit. I’m sure we have one of the cleanest records in the city. Doesn’t that count for something?”
He shrugged again. “Things have changed.”
“So you’re saying you could come back again next week?” She hoped her tone did not sound indignant.
“Or even tomorrow. Good-bye, Dr. Drake.”
He turned and walked out without waiting for her to reply.
Stunned, she stood in the doorway of the waiting room, staring at the spot he had vacated. It was as if his words had stripped her of her ability to function. Things have changed. She knew she needed to call Sam, and her hand reacted appropriately, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her cell phone. He answered right away.
“Don’t tell me the bastard already showed up.”
“Yeah. We passed.”
“Good!”
“Not really. He could show up any day—I didn’t realize it was going to be a constant—”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. We need to have an emergency meeting tonight. I’ll come to the lab with the Ericsons as soon as the day is over. But you and Patrick need to start cloning new embryos as soon as possible, because until we have replacements ready, I can’t take any embryos out of here. He could show up again tomorrow.”
“But we don’t have any embryos left, remember?”
“I know. So tonight, I am going to bring you the batch I was going to bring yesterday—but only to clone. And then—” Her voice faltered. “—then I will have to take the originals back here right away to restock in the freezer before tomorrow, just in case he shows up.”
“So we’re not even going to be able to use those?”
“No.”
“So when the hell are we going to get embryos again? We can’t mess around here!”
“I know that, Sam.” Her voice shook. “But I can’t here either. Look, I have a girl scheduled this afternoon for her extraction surgery. The embryos from her eggs will be ready for research in five days. And by then, the clones you make tonight should be ready to stock.”
“That puts us at Sunday!” He sounded accusatory.
“Yep. That’s the soonest I can take any embryos out of here. Whenever I take them out from now on, I will have to come back right away with replacements. So that means a constant supply of clones. If we’re ever short again, we risk wasting even more donations.”
“Why can’t you just change the stupid numbers again if you have to?”
“Because now I have to file the count every day. There’s no room for that anymore.”
“But we don’t have time for this goddamn bullshit!”
Arianna couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat.
“Hello?” Sam said.
“I’m here,” she muttered.
“Sorry, I just can’t believe those bastards.” He paused, and Arianna knew what he was going to say, for the tears that coursed down her cheeks were already mourning the words: “We just lost five days.”
* * *
From the head of the conference table, Dopp glared at each of the twenty-five faces around him. He pressed his palms hard against the table, turning his fingertips white.
“One of you,” he snarled, “is a traitor. Not just to me, or the department—but to God. Unless you come forward and repent, He will not forget it.”
The faces around him looked solemn, even fearful. None had seen this side of their amicable boss before, the one who asked about their children’s birthday parties and their sick spouses. But Dopp had never been publicly betrayed.
“I am shocked and disgusted by such an outrageous, deliberate effort to undermine my new policy. Until the traitor comes forth, all of you will suffer consequences—blame it on your colleague, not me. There will be no more honesty policy about clocking in and out of work. From now on, you must all have your immediate supervisors sign off on your timesheets before submitting them to me. And from now on, the tech support team will be closely monitoring all e-mail correspondence and all Internet activity. Anyone found sending personal e-mails, or otherwise slacking off, will be suspended without pay.”
Dopp slapped his hands against the table. The woman on his right side jumped. “Also,” he said, making eye contact with each person around the table, “if any of you know who the traitor is, and you do not come to me, you,
