Striker glanced to the side, no doubt checking with Hunter, who would be keeping an overview of the whole operation. “Half an hour tops until go.”
Mace nodded. “Okay. We can work with that.”
“I have a question,” Keiko said. “Explain the walking-out-of-here part. That seems a little vague. We can’t exactly walk out the front door. No matter what you do to disperse Enforcement, there will still be a whole lot of them. Not to mention news coverage, too. Someone will see us. Mace will get arrested.”
“We’ve been thinking about that,” Striker answered. “We’ll have my team on standby in the crowd. They’ll stage another diversion, then sneak you out of there.”
“It still sounds vague,” Keiko said.
“Don’t worry,” Mace told her. “This isn’t our first rodeo.”
“I know what that means,” Friday called as she beamed at them. “I do. Striker explained.”
Striker just smiled lovingly at
his wife as the rest of them stared at her.
“We’re still working on her understanding of common idioms,” Striker said.
“That isn’t common,” Keiko said.
“Exactly.” Friday pointed at her. “Not in this century, anyway.”
“So,” Mace said, making sure they steered clear of yet another topic that would upset Keiko—him being from a different century. “You want to fill me in on the planned diversions?”
“I don’t need to hear this,” Keiko said. “I’m going to use the restroom and see if I can find some shoes.”
“Don’t be long,” Mace said as she headed out of the room.
As soon as the door was shut behind her, Mace turned to Striker.
“You remember when you first heard your other half’s voice in your head? You remember what it said?”
Striker pinned Mace with his unpatched eye, missing nothing. “Yeah. It said, ‘mine.’”
Mace glanced toward the bathroom door, but it was still firmly closed. “I heard the voice for the first time after I met Keiko, and it said, ‘mine.’”
“Wait a minute,” Friday said, her genius brain working overtime. “You think certain people are able to trigger the mutation of your genetics?”
“Not people,” Mace told her. “Person. Otherwise this is too much of a coincidence. Striker’s animal didn’t start talking until he met you, and his first word was mine. My animal didn’t start talking until I met Keiko, and again it said mine.”
“I don’t see how that’s possible,” Friday said, but it was clear her attention was now firmly on the problem rather than on the people in front of her. “Unless…pheromones!”
“Bébé,” Striker said. “English for the grunts, remember?”
“Pheromones are airborne hormones that human beings—well, all beings, really—excrete in order to attract a mate. These chemicals are then breathed in by the person nearest to them, and they trigger a reaction within them—usually a sexual attraction.” Her eyes went wide, and her face lit up with excitement. “What if certain people can emit a hormone, a pheromone that has a distinctly different reaction when the Red Zone people inhale it? What if, instead of triggering as sexual response, it triggers the genetic mutation?”
“One that recognizes the person as being compatible with our freaky new DNA,” Mace said.
“Yes.” Friday gave him a look that made him feel like a five-year-old who’d gotten a basic math question right.
“Mate,” Striker said. “That’s what my other half calls Friday. His mate.”
Mace nodded as the importance of that statement sank in. “Is it possible we’re coded to find and lock on to someone who matches both halves of our DNA, and when we find that person, our other half wakes up because it recognizes their importance to us? Maybe through pheromones, but seriously, who really knows how it’s done?”
Friday nodded. “It’s something I need to investigate further, but I think you’re right.” A look passed between her and her husband. “I also think that it means the person who matches you is also able to have their genes adapted to fit both halves of your new nature.”
“Like you,” Mace said, aware that Friday’s DNA was incubating a matching animal to her husband’s.