This facility was the central nervous system of his whole operation. This was where the medications were manufactured that enhanced the human mind and the human body of those worthy individuals who qualified for his program.
He’d recently told Dmitry that just a five percent increase in cell energy production would transform a top athlete with superior brainpower into a record-setting Olympian and genius. And he was right. They were just on the threshold of a breakthrough. Max had consistently achieved a four percent increase in energy output and mental capabilities of the physical and mental prodigies under his training regimen. Five percent was imminent. Max was confident. Which was why he wouldn’t tolerate a single blip—not from anyone. And certainly not from a destructive moron like Jim Robbins, who’d tainted Max’s entire process.
The situation with Shannon Barker had not been an unfortunate accident. It was the result of his underling’s ill-qualified attempt to accelerate what wasn’t meant to be accelerated. Before that, Shannon had been blossoming into a warrior, ready to take on the Olympic challenge and walk away with the gold. Not to mention her grades were greatly improving, despite her rigorous training schedule, and much to the surprise and pleasure of her parents and trainer. Her diminished health, which had annihilated any future Max could have assured her, was a tragedy that never should have occurred.
And now she was on the warpath. She should be. But that didn’t change the fact that Max couldn’t allow her to prove anything more than an annoying gnat. If she went too far, she’d have to be swatted away.
But Shannon wasn’t Max’s immediate threat. That honor belonged to the son of a bitch who’d done this to her: Jim Robbins.
Well, Max would be rid of him tonight.
Putting that thought aside, Max walked through his biochemical facility, peering over shoulders, studying his techs’ progress. He’d handpicked each of them. They were all at the top of their classes at the University of Vermont Medical School. They’d all signed contracts with stringent confidentiality clauses. And they all had a pretty good idea that a mere lawsuit wasn’t the punishment for breaking their contracts.
Now, they all felt Max’s presence behind them. They were nervous as hell when he inspected their work, but that only made them try harder, work longer and more productively.
Max glanced to his right. A long aisle down from the biochemical stations were the actual stables themselves. Max owned three exquisite horses—two mares and a stallion—all of which were the initial candidates for his research. At the moment, two of his most trusted and noted veterinarians were in the stalls, monitoring the horses’ vitals after an early-evening workout. One of the vets glanced up and, spying Max, gave a pleased nod about what he was finding. Max nodded back. Lab work had been done earlier today, and the results had been excellent. In addition, the horses’ speed and pacing during the races held on Max’s private track showed increased energy and stamina, and their mental acuity showed just how much their intelligence had been enhanced.
Thanks to Max’s work, these horses could win the Triple Crown.
Satisfied, he left the barn complex and headed back to the manor. He had just enough time to change before dinner.
Seated in the backseat of the limo, Jim Robbins was both excited and nervous. As directed, he’d arranged to take off three days from work. That meant his trip would be a busy one, and big business would be discussed—business that could propel his career forward big-time.
The drive from Chicago had been endless—almost fifteen hours, heading east. But it was worth it. He’d been waiting for this invitation for ages. And after all his successes with top athletes, he believed he’d earned it.
Meeting Dr. Lubinov was an honor.
He leaned back in the luxurious leather vehicle, comfortable despite being blindfolded. The two Russian employees of Dr. Lubinov who were driving him had waited until the last leg of the trip to put the blindfold in place. Jim hadn’t been surprised. He’d heard that everyone who visited the estate was subject to the same procedure. Dr. Lubinov valued his privacy. He had no intention of allowing people to know where he lived or where he worked. And he wasn’t about to make an exception with Jim. No problem. Jim got that.
But a toast to his numerous successes wasn’t the only purpose of this meeting. Jim would have to be an idiot to think otherwise. And, dear God, he’d have to tread carefully.
With a hard swallow, he mentally walked through the dark side of what to expect. He’d be sternly reamed out for what happened to Shannon Barker. That was a given. But Lubinov didn’t know the whole truth, and Jim could never let him find out. Not if he wanted to live.
The truth was that he’d taken it upon himself to increase Shannon’s PED dosage over the past several weeks, just to get her to that about-to-be-attainable next level of achievement. He’d stockpiled just enough pills to get her through a month. Yeah, his plan had backfired big-time. But he’d covered his tracks well, so no one was privy to any of this. Consequently, the task at hand would be to attribute what had happened to a one-time fluke occurrence, probably based on Shannon’s body chemistry and perhaps Yuri pushing her too hard.
Jim would keep the subject on his many success stories and suck up whatever mental beating he had to. He’d shift the focus from himself to Shannon, elaborating on the trouble she’d been causing since her accident, and expressing concern that she was a threat to their entire project.
It wasn’t all that off-base. Since Shannon’s medical condition had been diagnosed, Jim had been browbeaten numerous times by Yuri and by Shannon’s parents. They weren’t about to let this drop. Then Shannon had confronted him herself. The little brat had actually come at him like a clawing cat, spewing all kinds of accusations. He’d leave out the part about smacking her. He should have controlled his reaction better. But none of that mattered, since no one had been around to witness it. Jim would simply lay out the facts to Dr. Lubinov. He was confident that his boss would have his associates pay Shannon a little visit—to do what, Jim didn’t want to know. But the problem would be solved, in whatever way Dr. Lubinov deemed necessary.
The ride became bumpy, and Jim could feel the sharp incline the limo was now traveling. He straightened in his seat.
They were on a mountainous path. That was new. And that had to mean they were almost there.
Jim couldn’t wait.
CHAPTER TEN
Offices of Forensic Instincts
6:30 p.m.
The entire FI team—Casey, Marc, Ryan, Claire, Patrick, and Emma—walked into the office’s main conference room on the second floor and took their seats at the sweeping oval table. It was a surprise to no one that Casey had gotten them all together; it had been a couple of days since they’d had a full-scale meeting to discuss the Worster case—which was moving along at a rapid clip—together with whatever else was pending or up for discussion.
The fact that this meeting was called for a Friday evening didn’t cause anyone to bat an eye. This was status quo—it was Casey’s expectation that everyone be available whenever necessary.
Casey seated herself at the head of the table, Hero stretched out at her feet, his body language conveying that he was aware and alert. She leaned over to scratch his ears, then turned back to sip at her cup of coffee.
Marc and Ryan exchanged glances. So did the rest of the team. Casey was super Type A. She never procrastinated; their meetings always began with a bang. This time was pronouncedly different. She was definitely distracted, or maybe preoccupied was a better word. Whichever it was, it was oddly out of character for her.