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children will have to spend their lives in wheelchairs. No more infants will be stillborn or doomed to die within a few hours after their birth. We will avert these tragedies long before they ever happen.”
    As he continued, Jonah noted that Jackie had hung several tasteful pictures of bravely smiling, wheelchair-bound children on the walls surrounding the dinner tables. Not one showed an image of a newborn with a severe NTD.
    When Genaro left the dinner and returned to GenHance, Delaporte met him in the lobby.
    “Our man reported in this afternoon,” he said as he followed Jonah onto the elevator. When the doors closed, he reached up and switched off the small security camera in one corner. “He’s finally identified the woman who’s been tipping off the feds. This is everything we have on her.” He handed over an envelope. “She fits the profile.”
    Genaro took out and skimmed the report. “So she does. Have Lawson meet me in the lab.”
    A short time later Bradford Lawson stood for a moment under the UV unit before he placed his palm on the print scanner. As another public face of GenHance, he cultivated the image of geniality and prosperity, from the immaculate styling of his fair hair to the supple gleam of his hand-stitched leather shoes. Genaro didn’t care for the color or the trendy cut of Lawson’s cobalt blue suit, but the younger man carried it off as if he’d been born in a three-piece.
    “Delaporte said we have an ID for the federal tipster who’s been catching the uncatchable,” Lawson said as he joined Genaro at the viewing panel. “Is this psychic informant anyone we know?”
    “Not yet.” Genaro handed him the photos and the report. “Clear your schedule. I want her verified and brought in by the end of the week.”
    “Yes, sir.” Lawson read the top page. “I’ve heard of Phoenix. Small company, but they have an excellent reputation.” He shook his head. “You’d think if she wanted to hide what she was, she would have done something else for a living.”
    Genaro didn’t answer. He watched as two lab techs wheeled in a long, sheet-draped box on a gurney, followed by Elliot Kirchner, his chief geneticist. He switched on the intercom. “Dr. Kirchner, did you perform the initial micro-cellular tests?”
    “As soon as it arrived.” Kirchner, a tall, cranelike man with iron gray hair, glanced at the viewer. “Life support has sustained cellular integrity so far, but there is only negligible brain activity.” He pulled the sheet away, revealing the body inside the glass coffin.
    Genaro studied his investment. Bandages encased the head, but the rest of the specimen appeared to be in superb condition. “It looks better than it did in the photographs.”
    “It’s close to physically perfect.” The geneticist took some readings from the preservation unit’s LED display. “BP and heart rate are strong. Once I’ve completed the physical and neurological exams, we can begin the preparation work.”
    “Cut off the bandages,” Genaro said. “I want to see the head.”
    Kirchner nodded to one of the techs, who produced a pair of scissors and cut through the layers of gauze. He peeled them away, exposing a battered, unrecognizable face and a gaping, horrific head wound.
    “Looks like someone blew away about a quarter of the skull,” Lawson commented.
    “Someone did.” Genaro studied the wound. “You’re sure the injury will affect only higher brain function, Doctor?”
    “I’ll verify it once I perform the necessary scans, but yes.” Kirchner sounded confident. “For all intents and purposes, the body is mindless.”
    After he’d acquired a rare DNA sample from the biotech black market in Europe, it had taken Genaro another ten years to research and put into place the resources needed for GenHance’s latest and most important phase of development. This final acquisition would initiate the last step toward his goal of creating, customizing, and selling the ultimate in