Origin in Death (In Death 21)

"But maybe the ears are a little off, now that I think about it."

She left him frantically trying to see his reflection in the vending machine.

When she turned into the bull pen, Peabody sprang up from her desk and hotfooted after her. The minute they were in Eve's office, Peabody tried the hangdog look.

"Have I been punished enough?"

"There is no punishment great enough for your crimes."

"How about if I tell you I think I've found a supporting link be­tween Wilson and Icove for your theory on their partnership in ques­tionable medical procedures?"

"You may, should the information warrant, be eligible for parole."

"I think it's good. Nadine is so thorough I think my brains started leaking out my ears sometime during hour three, but she saved us a lot of time we'd have spent generating the same information."

Then Peabody folded her hands as if in prayer. "Please, sir, may I have coffee."

Eve jerked a thumb at the AutoChef.

"I waded through Icove, the early years," Peabody continued as she programmed. "Education, his research into reconstructive areas, his innovations therein. He did a lot of work with kids. Good work, Dallas. He earned degrees up the wazoo, awards, grants, fellowships. Married a wealthy socialite whose family was known for their philanthropic philosophies. Had a son."

She stopped to drink a little coffee and make a long ahhhh sound. "So along come the Urban Wars. Chaos, strife, rebellion, and he volunteers his time, skill, and considerable funds to hospitals."

"You're not telling me anything I don't know."

"Wait. I have to put it in context. Icove and Wilson were instrumental in forming Unilab-which provided and provides mobile re­search and laboratory facilities for groups like Doctors Without Borders and Right to Health. Unilab won a Nobel Peace Prize for its won. That was right after Icove's wife was killed in an explosion in London where she was volunteering in a children's shelter. Over fifty casualties mostly kids. Icove's wife was five months pregnant."

"Pregnant." Eve's eyes narrowed. "Did they have the sex of the fetus?”

"Female."

"Mother, wife, daughter. He lost three females we assume were important to him. Very rough."

"Extreme. Lots written about the wife's tragic and heroic death, and them as a couple. Big love story, shitty ending. Apparently, he went reclusive awhile after that, working in or for Unilab or cloistered with his son. Wilson, on the other hand, traveled around the world cam­paigning for the lifting of bans against less mainstream applications of eugenics."

"I knew it," Eve said quietly. "I'd've made book."

"Wilson gave speeches, lectures, wrote papers, threw money at it. One of his platforms was the war itself. With gene modification and manipulation, children would be born with higher intelligence, lower violent tendencies. We're using it to cure or prevent birth defects, so why not to create a more peaceful, more intelligent race? A supe­rior race.

"It's an old argument," Peabody continued. "One that's been on the pro side of the debate for decades. He made some converts, powerful ones, in what was a war-weary atmosphere. But there's the whole issue of who decides what's intelligent enough, or what violence is acceptable, even necessary for self-preservation and defense. And while we’re this master-race crap, should we only breed white kids, black kids? Blondes? And where are the lines between nature and science? Who will pay? And he's pushing the line about how mankind has an innate right, even duty, to perfect itself, to eliminate death and disease and end war, to take the next evolutionary leap. Through technology we'd create a superior race, improve our physical and intellectual abilities."

"Wasn't there another guy who talked a similar game, back in the twentieth century?"

"Yeah, and his opposition didn't hesitate to play the Hitler card. But Icove comes out of his cave, adds his weight. He's got images of babies and kids he's operated on and starts asking if there's any difference in preventing these genetic defects before birth or fixing them after. And since law and science and ethics have allowed the research and gene ma­nipulation on what they've deemed right and acceptable, wasn't it time to expand? His voice went a long way to loosening some ties on the bounds, opening the areas of genetic modification to prevent genetic de­tects. But rumors started to spread that Unilab was experimenting in forbidden and illegal areas. Designer babies, for one, selection, genetic programming, and even reproductive cloning."

Eve had slumped in her chair. Now she straightened. "Rumors or fact?"

"Never substantiated. I got bits-Nadine highlighted-that both men were investigated. But there wasn't a lot of media or data on that. My guess would be that nobody wanted to blacken a couple of Nobel Prize winners, one of whom was a war hero, a widower raising a child alone. Add big vats of money to that, and the grumbles died down.

"And when the tide began to turn-the whole natural era of post­war, where, by the way, Free-Ageism enjoyed its highest popularity- Icove and Wilson backed off. Wilson and his wife had already founded their school, and Icove moved forward in his field of reconstructive surgery, adding his cosmetic sculpting. He built a clinic and shelter in London in his wife's name, continued to construct his medical empire, and began work on building his landmark center here in New York."

"And about the time Brookhollow's getting off the ground and Icove's designing clinics and centers, he becomes the guardian of an associate's five-year-old daughter. The timing makes it pretty handy for her to be enrolled. Unilab's got facilities worldwide."

"And two off planet. One of them's in the Icove Center here

in New York."

"Be convenient to have your work that handy," Eve mused. "Risky but convenient." Two evenings and one afternoon blank, every week. What better way to use them than to work on your pet project? "He’d have been more apt to keep it segregated, but we'll have to look. What the hell are we looking for?"