Cassie Miles - Protecting the Innocent

Anya found it difficult to reconcile the intense research and scientific experimentation that was the primary focus of Legate with the activities in the school, even if all the kids were geniuses.

“Are you telling me that all these Nobel laureates put on silly masks?”

“They love the chance to goof off,” he said. “In the meantime, we’ll get you started on more complex translation assignments.”

All she’d done thus far was proofread documents that were already translated by a computer service. “What kind of complex assignments?”

“The top secret stuff.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not,” he said. “We do geopolitical treatises and scientific experimentation on an international level. Jeremy worked on a couple of biochemical projects where the end results were reviewed by the President of the United States and Britain’s Prime Minister.”

“He never told me.”

“Which is why it’s called top secret.”

It irritated her to imagine projects that Jeremy didn’t tell her about. They were supposed to trust each other with everything. She’d thought their marriage was as open as sunshine. Instead, he’d been clandestine in his work. And in setting up the Legate schooling for Charlie. What else hadn’t Jeremy told her about? The armed guards at Legate, she thought. The high walls surrounding the compound.

As they crossed a bridge, she called over her shoulder to Charlie. “Bridge. Pick up your feet and hold your breath for good luck.”

“Not now, Mom. I’m busy.”

“The Bay Area is full of bridges,” Roman said. “Around here, you’ll build up a stockpile of luck.”

“Good.” Because she had a sneaking feeling that she might need all the luck she could get.

THE ELDERLY CHINESE MAN gazed impassively through the windshield as he tailed the Mercedes at a discreet distance.

“Don’t let them see us,” his companion warned.

“I am always cautious, Wade. You have no cause for concern.”

But Wade Bouchard couldn’t help feeling tense. After all these years, they were finally close to attaining their ultimate goal, which was nothing less than the absolute destruction of the Legate Corporation.

Wade was part of SCAT, Scientists Concerned About Truth. He and his associates had dedicated their lives to fighting those who used pure science for unethical purposes. Most of their battles were a matter of public record, but SCAT was ready to further their aims by whatever methods were necessary, including theft and violence. Wade had taken a bullet for his cause. And he killed a man in Taiwan. The face of that poor soul still haunted his nightmares, but he’d do the same again. Some principles were more important than life or death.

He could only pray that Anya would not disrupt his current mission. She had to agree. She had to understand that it was the only way to redeem the boy. Charlie. Wade’s grandson.

Anya wasn’t wildly impressed by her first view of Roman’s house. Unremarkable landscaping obscured the front doorway and walls, which appeared to be little more than bland gray stucco. She noticed very few blooming flowers—not that autumn was the season for spectacular floral display.

When they parked inside the garage, Charlie gave a cheer. “I did it! I got the puzzle box open!”

“Good for you,” she said.

“Look what’s inside.” In his hand, he held a tiny dragon. The jaws were wide open as if the dragon were laughing.

“It’s for protection,” Roman said. “Keep that dragon with you, and you’ll always be safe from harm.”

Charlie regarded the statuette solemnly, then he held it toward her. “You need this more than I do, Mom.”

She was touched and, at the same time, concerned. “Why do you think I need protecting?”

“Duh,” he said. “Because you’re a girl.”

“Girls can take care of themselves just as well as boys.” It was never too early to start teaching tolerance; she didn’t want to raise a little misogynist. “You keep the dragon. It’s your special gift from Roman.”

Charlie stuffed the statuette in his pocket, unfastened his seat belt and popped open the car door. “Let’s go.”

The garage led into the kitchen where track lighting illuminated stainless steel appliances and polished granite countertops. The lines were clean and efficient, but it wasn’t until she stepped into the living area that Anya had the full dramatic impact of Roman’s high-tech home. Two-story, plate-glass windows offered a breathtaking view of bay and sky. The interior walls were accented with sea-foam green and burgundy. Unusual colors, but they worked well with the chrome lamps and warm hardwood floors. Charlie dashed around the room, testing the modern, modular furniture.

She’d expected a sexy den of iniquity, but this wasn’t it. “Very classy,” she said. “Your home suits you.”

“I’m almost scared to show you the upstairs.”

With Charlie in the lead, they ascended an open staircase to the second level, which was one huge room. Up here, the predominant colors were eggshell-white and a hot, passionate red. At one end was a high-tech Plexiglas office space. In the center was a conversation area. At the far end, separated by a black lacquered Chinese screen, was a massive four-poster bed in black and chrome.

Aha! This was the bachelor pad, the sheik’s boudoir. The rich, deep red bedcover and dozens of pillows hinted at lavish, seductive delights. Mesmerized, Anya drifted toward it. On the bedside table were three buttons.

“Go ahead,” Roman said. “Push the buttons.”

She glanced nervously toward her son. Was this something he should see?

The first button adjusted the vertical blinds on the wall-to-wall windows, allowing a view of the bay. That seemed innocent enough.

When she pressed the second button, the bed began to vibrate. She arched an eyebrow. “Back problems?”

“It also heats up,” he said.

“I’ll bet it does.”

She turned it off and touched the third button. A wide-screen television rose from a chest at the foot of the bed.

“Wow!” Charlie clapped his hands. “I want a bed just like this when I grow up.”

Anya gave a disapproving sniff. This was not a role model she wanted her son to emulate.

“This part of the room is better.” Roman pointed Charlie toward his office and said, “Computer on.”

The flat screen came to life, showing a crystal clear picture of an underwater coral reef. The computer spoke in a sultry female voice. “Welcome home, Roman. It’s 5:32 in the afternoon.”

Charlie ran up to the screen. “What else does she do?”

“Computer, music,” Roman said. “Classical.”

The room filled with the throbbing opening notes to Ravel’s Bolero. The sound resonated from several hidden speakers. Incredible! Anya felt as if she were inside an orchestra pit.

“Computer, softer,” Roman said.

The computer responded, lowering the volume.

“Can I talk to her?” Charlie asked.

“Sorry, buddy. She only responds to my voice.”

Anya stepped up beside them. “Why are you guys referring to the computer as a female?”

“Jeez, Mom. Didn’t you hear her voice? She’s a girl.”

And Anya wasn’t sure she wanted her five-year-old son associating with this sexy-sounding machine. What else was this computer programmed to do?

“Computer, games,” Roman said. A menu popped up on the screen. “What do you like to play, Charlie?”

“Acto-Dinosaurs.” He wriggled with excitement. “And I get to be Caveman.”

Roman typed in a few commands, accessing the program, which was one Legate had created. He placed Charlie in the chair in front of the screen and handed him a joystick. “Knock yourself out, kiddo. Your mom and I will be downstairs making dinner.”