"The Transgenic Falcon"
Chapter Twenty-Five

Ashton freaking Logue! Holy Crap! I stood there in shock for a second while the part of my mind that had been trying to tell me this did its victory lap. There was nothing for it but to strip down and climb into the shower. I stood under a gentle rain of perfectly warm water and thought.

No wonder the house screamed old money, it was old crime money!

The Logue family had been part of the Houston underworld since before oil was a major product of the great state of Texas. Theft, racketeering, prostitution, drugs, protection you name a criminal enterprise and the Logue’s had been involved in it.

Right up until sixty years ago, that is. Patrick Logue had grown up around goons and button men and had decided that he didn’t want the same for his son. It took a while but the old man had managed to convert all of the family illegal businesses into real above board companies. A lifetime of working with criminals meant he had all the needed skills for running a big business.

All well and good until young Ashton, Patrick’s grandson comes along. It seems two generations of legal, if rapacious, capitalism was all the Logue clan could support. Using the knowledge he’d gained by a philosophy degree from the Sorbonne and a masters from Harvard Business School, Ashton set out put the organization back into organized crime.

He came at it with the attitude of a gardener. The problem, as he saw it, with crime was it expanded like an invasive species until the general public was so aware they insisted something had to be done. Instead of looking for a way to make a lot of money quick the trick was to set reasonable profit goals, and then not grow just for the sake of growth.

To achieve this benign symbiotic relationship, he first had to ruthlessly end his competitors. But even here Logue was cagey. Instead of dead bodies hitting the street and the net-zines, Ashton’s enemies just vanished, never to be heard from again. Some say that he had the bodies taken far out to sea and pureed for return to the ecosystem. Others speculate that he gave them an offer they couldn’t refuse, a la Vito Corleone. Whatever the truth was, starting about the time I came to Houston it was generally accepted that Ashton Logue ran this town’s seamy underside.

Of course you’d be courting a libel suit if you ever said such things out loud in public, or worse, in print. Logue has always maintained a squeaky clean public image and defended it with a battalion of lawyers.

Yet for all his philanthropy, all his vehement denunciations of his family’s criminal history, the inescapable conclusion of pretty much everyone who knew anything about crime in my city was: Logue ran it all.

None of which explained why he’d had some bozos with a self-redesign fetish scoop me up at Gen-Tech.

I stood under that amazing shower and tried to figure out if he had something to do with Cho’s death or if he was picking me up for something else. Nothing seemed to fit, but then that wasn’t exactly new on this case.

About the time I was starting to prune up, a knock came on the door.

“Mr. Hunt? It’s Dr. Yu. If you’d step out of the shower, I’d like to examine your body.”

I turned around in the glass box and peered through the steam. Dr. Yu was short, and as delicately beautiful as a porcelain doll. Black hair, dark brown eyes and flawless skin worked really well with the black slacks and white blouse she wore.

Kind of sounds like the set up from any of twenty thousand porno videos, I know. But trust, me she was just as cold and dispassionate about my state of undress as a porcelain doll would have been.

She held out a large fluffy towel, I think they call them bath sheets, and waited for me to emerge from the shower. I wrapped myself in the towel and let her lead me to the bedroom.

We went through the standard questions for a neurological diagnosis. Did I have a headache (Duh), did I see double (No), remember these words, look at the light. If you’ve ever had a concussion, you already know this drill.

After satisfying herself that my brains weren’t leaking out of my head (I think we’d have to agree to differ), she cleaned my cuts and scrapes and sealed them with a spray on bandage. She offered me a narcotic painkiller, and boys and girls, I was tempted. But when you’re in the den of a noted crime lord and businessman, it’s probably not the best time to be too slow or happy.

I settled for a couple of aspirin and the lovely Doc Yu left me to get dressed. I salvaged my underwear from the bathroom and found a pair of jeans and a lovely black and red Aloha shirt laid out on the aircraft carrier sized bed. Maybe I had Ashton Logue all wrong! Could anyone who’d provide a guest a shirt like this be all bad?

A bit of movement in my peripheral vision made me turn quickly. I was face to face with a car crash victim in a lose-fitting pair of jeans and a cool shirt. Oh, that’s right, its me in the mirror.

The cut over my eye was a thin line, and a truly epic shiner was forming underneath it. A few other scrapes showed here and there. My eyes were a little glassy and I was glad I hadn’t given in to the painkiller. Still for someone who’d been on the receiving end of a mob beat down, I didn’t look too bad. I just wish I felt as good as I looked.

Kent opened the door to a huge old world-style library. You know the kind, three walls covered in shelves, the whole room extending two stories up, complete with sliding ladders to reach the books hiding near the ceiling. The forth wall held a big black marble fireplace, mercifully cold and empty.

There was enough space that the library boasted a big desk and a set of three red leather club-chairs complete with side tables for one’s brandy and an ashtray for one’s cigar.

“Mr. Hunt!” Logue said rising from one of the club chairs, “So nice to meet another Son of Eire!”

I don’t really know what I expected Logue to look like, maybe a bald guy with a nasty dueling scar stroking a white cat? But that’s not what I got. Logue was five seven or eight, leanly built with a close cropped sandy hair. It was cut to try to disguise the fighting retreat his hairline was making. He was smiling, showing off a set of perfectly white and straight teeth. His eyes were shadowed by a heavy brow-ridge, giving the impression that he watched the world from the opening of a cave.

I took his offered hand and shook. For his size, Logue had big hands. They were not the hands of a pampered scion of a rich family. These hands were hard with muscle and I could feel callused ridges against my palm. The dichotomy was enough to light up the remaining few of my danger alarms.

“Well, I don’t know about that,” I said as I retrieved my hand from his hard grip. “The last time my family lived in Ireland was more than a century ago, so I don’t think I really qualify as an Irishman.”

“Nonsense! The Emerald Isle leaves its imprint on us for far longer than that. But please, you’ve been through a lot this afternoon, sit.”

It all sounded very cordial, but there was definitely more than a hint of command. Being the incurably obstinate jackass I am, I took the chair he had not gestured to. When you’re engaged in dominance games, you have to take all the little victories you can.

Not that Logue was going to concede any points. His smile and posture didn’t change at all at my little act of defiance. Jerk.

“It’s after four; I’m going to have a drink. Would you care to join me, Mr. Hunt?”

I’d turned down the painkillers, and for good reason, but turning down a drink was a little more aggressive than I wanted to be. Besides, the affects of my hangover were making themselves known. A bit of the hair-of-the-dog didn’t sound at all bad, right then.

“Please.”

“Kent, two of the 23 year old Bushmills, if you would.”

“Right away, sir,” Kent said in that melodious voice of his. I twitched, just a little. It hurt in every muscle. I had thought he’d stayed in the hall.

The only sound in the room was the clink of ice in the glass and the gurgle of booze falling on it. Kent set one of the drinks down next to Logue’s chair, and then one next to mine. It even had one of those big ball shaped ice cubes in the cut crystal glass.

“That will be all for now,” Logue said and Kent showed himself out. Turning to me Logue said, “Thank you for coming to speak with me, Mr. Hunt.”

“Not a problem, though I was under the impression I didn’t really have a choice.”

Logue frowned and a chill ran down my spine. Suddenly I was sure this was exactly the face he used when he ordered a competitor disappeared. He sighed.

“Yes, well, the men Kent chose were over-enthusiastic.”

“You could call it that. But tell me Mr. Logue, why is a man like you associated with a fringe group like the AT, and why did you want to see me so bad?”

He leaned back in his chair, crossed one leg casually over the other at the knee and sipped his drink before answering.

“Those two questions actually have the same answer. I fund and direct the AT because I am very interested in practical genetic engineering for humans. And you are trying to solve a murder at Gen-Tech.”

Not what I was expecting, not by a long shot.

“What makes you think there’s been a murder at Gen-Tech? And for that matter, that I am investigating it?”

I might be beat up, hung-over and generally in a crappy way, but I’m not so green as to admit my client’s business just because someone seems to know what’s going on.

Logue gave me a long and slightly pitying look.

“Mr. Hunt, you probably don’t know, but I am a major share-holder in Gen-Tech, and I sit on the Board of Directors. Like any of my investments, I keep a close eye on things. In the business end of GT there is very little that I don’t know.” He paused, expecting me to say something, but I disappointed him.

“I know that Dr. Cho is dead. I know Belinda Morris hired you to find the killer. And I know that Mick Taylor has been arrested and will be charged with Cho’s murder.”

“I couldn’t possibly comment on any of that.”

The cave-shrouded eyes turned a little harder as they watched me. I took a sip of my drink to avoid looking like I was worried. Oh God! The booze rich guys drink is freaking amazing! I wondered if I could justify spending a few hundred on a bottle for home.

“This would all be much easier if you would trust me,” Logue observed. He reached over to the front of the table next to him and opened a drawer. He drew out a handheld and offered it to me.

It was well used, showing little dents and scratches in the finish. Other than that it was an exact replica of the G-T one I’d been given, right down to the logo at the top.

“That is Dr. Cho’s handheld. I believe you’ve been looking for it.”

I took the slate, and turned it over in my hands. I punched the power button and it woke, displaying an alphanumeric keyboard with Korean characters.

“How did you come to have this? Last time it was seen was in Cho’s lab, prior to his death.” Yeah, I was admitting Cho had been murdered, but Logue already knew about it so I wasn’t breaking confidentiality.

“Now we come to the point where trust is required, Mr. Hunt. Can I trust you to keep what we discuss confidential?”

“Not if you’re going to admit to having Cho killed. I intend to have the person who killed him and anyone else associated with it punished.”

Now the smile and the eyes were hard. It’s a safe bet that very few people ever stood up to Logue.

“That’s a strong statement. I’m sure you know about the rumors about me. If they were true, I would be a very dangerous man to deny or threaten.”

“That maybe so, but it doesn’t change anything. I’m going to finish this case and find the killer whoever they are.” I raised my glass and took another sip, moving as slowly as I could. I didn’t want Logue to see how scary I thought his deniable threat was. I think I succeeded.

“So, you’re a hard man in fact as well as reputation. It’s always nice to meet another.”

Logue hadn’t backed down an inch, but at least he took my bluster at face value. Now I just had to hope and pray he didn’t test it. Time to cool things off a skosh.

“Don’t take it personally, I just have this policy about not giving my trust away to people who have me kidnapped or threaten me. I’m sure you understand.”

“I have a similar policy myself, so yes,” Logue allowed.

“As for you trusting me, well, I think you’ll have to decide on your own.” What the hell my tongue thought it was doing I had no idea, but given that I didn’t have a better course, I went with it.

Logue took a sip of his own, his hard brown eyes given me a long moment of consideration.

“Perhaps I have gone at this from the wrong side. I really have no interest in threatening or coercing you, Mr. Hunt. Let’s see if we can’t appeal to your nobler side.” He set his drink down and leaned forward. It’s a classic persuasion tactic, an invitation to a higher level of intimacy, a non-verbal assertion of trustworthiness. Logue pulled it off as well as anyone I’ve ever seen.

“Chief Round and Gen-Tech are about to charge an innocent man with Cho’s murder. I think it’s safe to assume this doesn’t sit well with you. What if I could provide you with evidence that Mick Taylor didn’t kill him? Would that buy me a little discretion?”

Whoever was briefing this guy was good. Or really knew me. That was a thought I didn’t want to dwell on, as the only person who fit that description was Belinda. There was a part of me that was willing to believe almost anything about her right now. And Hurt as I was by her actions, there was also a part of me with an unreasoning loyalty to her. Call it foolishness, call it insane, call it love, and none of the three would be wrong.

I pushed that line of thought away; it wouldn’t help me at this point. All this coy sparring was getting old in a hurry. Since my tongue had put me on this course I figured in for a penny, in for a pound.

“Look, Mr. Logue, I appreciate the rescue. I appreciate the medical attention and the booze, but if there isn’t more to this conversation in short order, I’m going to have to call it a day and leave. You wanted me here to tell me something. Either tell me or let me leave. The choice is yours, but there is no third choice.”

I couldn’t believe it, but this actually made his smile warm up. I guess when you are very rich and very scary there aren’t a whole lot of people you can’t intimidate. I could see a glimmer of respect in his eyes now, but I wasn’t such as fool as to think it would cut any ice if I got on his wrong side.

“Well said, Mr. Hunt. And you are correct; I did want this little meeting. Why don’t you ask me how I know that Dr. Taylor didn’t kill Dr. Cho?”

I was starting to see the value in counting to ten in Mandarin. Instead I settled for not rolling my eyes. There was a limit to how rude I could be to this man and still walk out of the house. I suspected I was very close to it.

“Fine, how do you know that Taylor didn’t kill Cho?”

“Because both Cho and Taylor have been working on a confidential research project for me.”

If it was true that was interesting!

“Research? Into what exactly?”

“They were working on the holy grail of genetic engineering, Mr. Hunt; rejuvenation and life extension. Why should man be limited to the three score and seven or so that we have now? What if you could expect a productive lifetime of a hundred and fifty years or more? What could be achieved by men like Cho or Einstein? What if poor Dr. Hawking could have been rejuvenated without ALS and continued his work into the next century? The possibilities are endless! ”

I felt like a dope. What else would a man with nearly unlimited money and power want, except more time to glory in it? Looking at Logue I could see the zeal of a true believer in his eyes. Now it was clear why a man like him would be associated with the idiot dreamers of the A.T.

“How does that work? Some sort of telomerase reset?”

Logue waved my idea away like it was a familiar and annoying fly.

“No, no, telomerase is a dead end. It looked very promising but to only change that structure of cellular DNA would require a redesign of fundamental genetics. The follow-on effects are potentially so vast and complex it will probably never be achieved. Fortunately, Dr. Cho was a genius who saw another path.”

“And that path is?”

“Rejuvenate the cells of a single system, instead of the whole body. Instead of trying to fix the thirty-five trillion or so cells in a human, why not focus on the few billion needed to give you the heart of an eighteen year old?”

I’d heard this idea just recently, in another context. “Work in modules, one or two at a time” I mused.

“Exactly so, Mr. Hunt!”

“So you have this research you want pursued, why not use your position on the board to make it happen?” I asked. Logue just gave me an expectant look. Then I understood completely. “Ah, right. You’d have to use viral vectors to insert the new spruced up DNA into a living person.”

“You live up to your reputation! I do so enjoy a quick mind!” Logue said with a laugh. I could tell he meant it too. Still, it was the way that someone enjoys a pet doing something clever, and that rubbed me the wrong way.

“An illegal area of research, which Johnson, of course, would not be willing to pursue. Especially with Congress breathing down his neck.”

“Yes. Dear Otho might think he is a player, but he lacks the courage to take the big risks. As you can see, with so much on the line, I’d have no motive to kill Dr. Cho. Particularly when he had not completed his research.”

I looked down at the floor, I needed to think. While I couldn’t stop Logue from watching me, I didn’t have to let him see my eyes while I did it. They might not be the window to the soul like the poets claim, but they sure as hell are a cheat-sheet to the mind.

Cho was working for Ashton, the two of them looking for the fountain of youth. The work was illegal by definition, but that didn’t mean much to either of the men. How did Taylor fit into all this? Oh! Of course! Cho couldn’t or wouldn’t leave Gen-Tech. And while Otho might not be as sharp and ruthless as Logue, he would have to suspect something if one of his board members started having regular meetings with him. Taylor was the go between.

“Let me test my understanding a bit,” I said looking back up to Logue’s eyes. “You found out about Taylor’s gambling problem, either through G-T HR or more likely through a unregistered gambling joint. You and Cho used him as a courier to come to an agreement, and to ferry data out of the acrology.”

“You’re still on target, keep going,” Logue encouraged me.

Time for a little supposition.

“Cho would have needed a test platform for these changes. It’s not exactly the kind of thing you want to try out on humans first, and even if you did, where would you find volunteers? So he used the Eolin-I. That’s why he had them visit late at night, when no one else was around to see what happened.”

I kept thinking it through while I spoke and the next bit surprised me into a laugh.

“He did more than that, didn’t he? After Cho got good results from his tests, he was trying the technique on himself, wasn’t he?”

It was the first time since I’d met him that I saw a sour look on Logue’s face. Apparently he hadn’t known that bit until recently himself.

“So it seems, Mr. Hunt. I thought I had an equal partner relationship with Constantine, but now I know that he was holding out on me.”

“You know that admitting all this doesn’t clear Taylor or you. A falling out in an illegal enterprise is one of the absolute classics, in terms of motive.”

“Do you think I am dumb, Mr. Hunt?”

Not a question you want to hear anyone who has you in their power ask; there isn’t a good answer.

“No, Mr. Logue, I don’t. In fact I have to say this case has put me in contact with more gifted or genius level folks than any time in my life.” I might have been laying it on a little thick there, but never estimate the value of a well stroked ego.

“Then you can understand why I’d never do anything so easily graspable as having a clandestine partner killed. At least, before they had achieved my goals.”

He had me there. Say what you like about Ashton Logue, and you’d have to be a braver man than I to do it too openly or often, but he achieved his position by never making moves that could be traced back to him. He might be the acknowledged crime lord around here, but he’d never been seriously investigated, nor ever charged. Maybe some of his granddad’s old teaching had sunk in.

“In any case, I did not have any intention of harming Dr. Cho in any way. It was Dr. Taylor’s understanding of how much I want this research completed that led him to grab the handheld. When you started investigating he panicked and ran, giving away the fact he had something to hide, and making him the prime suspect.”

“But if you know that Taylor didn’t kill Cho, why send him back to face the music? I’m guessing someone with your connections could have him on a private plane to Ulan Bator without a problem.”

He nodded his acceptance of the compliment, and took a long sip of his drink. He leaned back, probably no longer feeling the need to connect with me now that I was on the same page.

“There was already a murder investigation going on. If Taylor was a fugitive it would go on and on, with the HPD being involved, and perhaps the FBI. That is not the kind of risk I’m interested in. I convinced Dr. Taylor to take the apparent blame. He is going to admit to nothing, but he will be charged and tried. He’ll have the best legal team available. But it’s likely he’ll have to spend some time in prison; for which he’ll be fairly compensated. When he is set free, he will come to work for me, privately, on this very project.”

I sat back, annoyed for a second that I hadn’t even noticed that I’d played into Logue’s body-language game and thought. Knowing about the secret and totally illegal rejuvenation project made a lot of things clear. It explained Taylor’s actions, including the way he smiled when I was interviewing him earlier in the day. Logue was a master at covering his tracks and it seemed he had this all wrapped up. Still, there was a hole in all of this.

“If you had this neatly arranged, why bring me here? Without your, ah, hints shall we call them, I wouldn’t have been able to unravel what was really going on. By talking to me, you’ve created a loose end, and your reputation suggests that’s not something you ever do.”

“And you would be right to think that, except for one thing. Dr. Cho succeeded in developing a treatment for rejuvenation. It works. Once we were able to crack the encryption on the handheld, it was all there. Yet the manner of his death suggests someone else knows about his work; and that his death was no accident. By giving you this information, I make it more likely that you’ll find the real killer, thereby removing a well informed, ruthless, and hidden opponent.”

“Finally, we get to the point,” I said a little relieved, “You want me to clean up the mess so your part in this stays secret. You think you can trust Taylor, but even with a great life after, going to prison is something that might change a mind; especially if he could give the Feds some interesting information about you.”

Logue gave me a toothy smile. Ever been smiled at by a Great White shark? Me neither, but I think I have a reasonably good idea what it feels like after that smile.

“What makes you think I will keep you out of this? The fact that the killer used the rejuvenation treatment as a weapon means I can’t keep that quite. It is going to come out.”

“The fact that Cho and Taylor were working on this is no longer a concern. I have a copy of all the data on this handheld. It took a genius or two to develop to this level, but that is hardly required to take it the rest of the way. I am confident that whoever murdered the dear doctor did not know about my part in things. As long as that stays quiet it is really no concern of mine that the secret research is known. I have full faith that Otho Johnson is too timid to pursue it further, so I will have exactly what I wanted in the first place, a monopoly on human rejuvenation.”

Damn! He really had thought this through. It now all hinged on whether I cared more about his illegal research or finding the real killer. I could, maybe, have one or the other but not both. Bloody Hell!

“As for you talking about this, well, you are a very smart man, Mr. Hunt. That is your first and major reputation. I’ve offered you no threats, nor any payment for this. Since you are such a smart man, I know I don’t need to. You can do the cost/benefit analysis yourself.”

“I don’t like being put in a box any more than I like being threatened, Mr. Logue.”

“No one does Mr. Hunt, which is why it is best used sparingly.”

I pushed aside my frustration and anger, it wouldn’t serve me here. I turned the whole situation over in my mind a few times, but there really was only one question. Did I give a good god damn about some rich criminal having a fountain of youth enough to blow this wide open?

If I went public in any way with this, it would definitely give Congress the ammunition to end Gen-Tech and other companies doing similar research in the U.S. Not the end of the world, but it would be a hell of a shock for those living and working at Gen-Tech.

There was also the fact that the Eolin-I had been used as test subjects. No matter how it played out they would probably be killed out of an abundance of caution for the way Cho died. Can’t have possibly lethal janitors running around, you know.

While he hadn’t offered to pay me for my help, there are certainly worst things than having Ashton Logue feel like he owed me a favor or two. It’s hard to put a cash value on things like that.

Finally and to my self-disgust, there was how it would impact Belinda. She was high enough up in Gen-Tech that at least some of the dirt would stick to her. It’s not like she hadn’t been peripherally involved in illegal research herself.

Against all that keeping Logue’s secret didn’t seem so odious. Yet another decision I was hoping I’d be able to live with. Maybe it would turn out better than the ones before it, but probably not.

“All right, Logue, I’ll keep on the case and keep you out of it. To do that, I want the handheld and the password.”

He reached into his breast pocket and fished out a slip of paper. I can’t read Korean but I knew I’d be able to punch in the right characters. We both stood.

“I’ll have Kent arrange for someone to take you wherever you’d like to go.” Logue said as he ushered me towards the door.

Before he could open it, I put a hand on it. I had something I wanted to say and didn’t want an audience.

“Let me be perfectly clear, Logue. I’m doing this but, I don’t work for you, and I never will.”

I expected to get a rise out of him, a little anger to pay back the anger he’d made me feel at myself. I was disappointed.

“But of course, Mr. Hunt. I wouldn’t want it any other way. Still, I’ll take that as a not now, instead of a final word. People often reconsider such things around me.”

He said it without inflection, as though stating a fact like water is wet or the sky is blue. It might be the scariest thing he’d said to me all day.

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