“Not on this machine.”
“Aren’t those programs available as free downloads?”
“Can’t put anything on a government computer.”
“God bless bureaucracy. Let’s give it a shot.” He gestured with his chin. “Maybe there’s an imbedded reader.”
I opened the file. The screen filled with letters and symbols divided by horizontal dots indicating page and column breaks.
“Damn.” Ryan shifted and his knee popped.
I looked at my watch. Five forty-two.
“I have Acrobat Reader on my laptop. Why don’t I take the disc home, cruise through it, and give you a synopsis during our flight tomorrow.”
Ryan stood, and his knee cracked again. I knew what was coming before he said it.
“We could both—”
“I’ve got a lot to do tonight, Ryan. I may not get back here for a while.”
“Dinner?”
“I’ll grab something on the way home.”
“Fast food is bad for your pancreas.”
“Since when are you concerned with my pancreas?”
“Everything about you concerns me.”
“Really.” I pressed the button and the disc slid out.
“You get sick in the highlands, I don’t want to be rinsing out your panties.”
I considered flinging the disc at him. Instead, I held it out.
He raised his eyebrows. “Why don’t you take that home, cruise through it, and give me a synopsis during our flight tomorrow.”
“Hot damn. There’s an idea.” I slid the disc into my briefcase.
“Pick you up at eleven?”
“I’ll pack lots of panties.”
A truck had overturned in the tunnel, and the trip home took almost an hour. After dumping my briefcase and purse, I dug a frozen delight from the freezer and popped it into the microwave.
While I waited, I cranked up my laptop and opened the PDF reader. The microwave beeped as I clicked on the fullrptstem file.
When I returned, a surrealistic tableau filled the monitor. I stared at the blobs and squiggles exploding from a central mass, then scrolled upward and read the title.
It made no sense at all.
24
“FRIGGIN’ STEM CELLS?”
Ryan had been in a rotten mood since picking me up at eleven. A forty-minute flight delay was not improving his disposition.
“Yes.”
“The little buggers your moron fundamentalists are pissing their shorts to protect?”
“They are not
“That’s it?”
“Two hundred and twenty-two pages’ worth.”
“Is it some kind of progress report?”
“And a discussion of future research directions.”
Ryan was in a snit because he couldn’t smoke.
“What genius prepared it?”
“The National Institutes of Health.”
“How come Nordstern had the report on disk?”
“He probably downloaded it from the Net.”
“Why?”
“Excellent question, Detective.”
