Read Blood Crimes: Book One for Free Online Page B

thinking.”
          “In your case why don’t we arrange a visit with your family.”
          Dr. Chabot licked his lips, his head involuntarily nodding up and down as if he were a bobble-head doll.
          “Then it’s settled,”
M
etcalf said. “I’ll bring them here for you. Their accommodations will be up front. There should be several openings in the cattle pens soon.”
          Dr. Chabot’s mouth dropped.
          “Please no…”
          “Isn’t this what you’ve been asking for?”
          “Please not that. Please, no…”
          “I thought this is what you’ve been sniveling about for the last six months.”
          “Please, I beg of you. Not that. Not my family.”
          “But you keep asking for it…”
          “Not another word from me. I promise.”
          A shadow fell over
M
etcalf’s eyes leaving them deader than they were.
          “I’ve given you and your team everything you’ve asked for.”
          “You have,” Dr. Chabot agreed.
          “Computers, centrifuges, fluorescent microscopes—”
          “True, true.”
          “Incubators, cell harvesters… I can’t even pronounce the names of half the shit you’ve had me buy. But everything you’ve asked for I bought.”
          “That is all true. Although…”
          “What?”
          “I could use a confocal microscope. And I’d like to upgrade our flow cytometer.”
          
M
etcalf lowered his head into his hand so he could rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He shook his head. “How much is this going to cost?” he asked in a soft whisper.
          “What?”
          “How much!”
          “Oh. Not much. No more than two hundred thousand dollars.”
          “Two hundred thousand…”
          “If we buy it used.”
          
M
etcalf stood rigid for a long moment before removing his hand from his face. His eyes pale blue ice as he looked at his lead scientist.
          “Alright,” he said. “Fine. Write me down the model numbers, I’ll order it. But I need results.”
          “You will get them. Eventually we will crack this.”
          “You’re not listening to me. I need results. Now.”
          “We’re doing everything we can.”
          
M
etcalf waved Dr. Chabot closer with his index finger. When the immunologist got off his chair,
M
etcalf took hold of the doctor by his skull and pulled him towards him so he could talk with his mouth inches from the doctor’s ear.
          “You need to listen carefully to what I’m saying. When I tell you I want results now that is exactly what I mean. In one month I want to be able to enjoy a steak dinner.”
          “B-But it’s not that simple. We can’t solve these digestive issues until we better understand the virus. It’s all tied together, you see. The virus—somehow it feeds on the digested blood. No other virus acts this way. And just as it does that, it similarly prohibits the generation of any digestive enzymes.
M
ore than just that it actively attacks and destroys any artificial enzymes that may be entered into the digestive system. It is as if it doesn’t want any competition for the digested blood. It’s quite amazing, really. We will solve this, but only after we successfully model and understand this virus better. Patience is of utmost importance.”
          
M
etcalf let go of the doctor, who fell back into his chair and nearly toppled over before righting himself. Rubbing his eyes and then staring bug-eyed at Dr. Chabot,
M
etcalf asked him what else he needed.
          “Nothing else right now, no.”
          “How about more test subjects?”
          “Not now, no.” Dr. Chabot rubbed a hand across his lips, his expression turning queasy. “When we do I’ll let you know.”
          
M
etcalf continued to