(VI)
They pulled into a section of the underground parking garage reserved for
special deliveries like this one, then took the elevator to an even lower
level. When the elevator door opened, Dr. Hammond and Dr. Cutler were
waiting.
"You're half an hour late," said Hammond, a large middle-aged man with
thinning hair. "Where have you been?"
"We got lost trying to find his house," the tall one lied. Then, reading the
skepticism on their faces, he added, "Then we, like, started jiving and not
paying attention."
"Put her on the table," said Hammond. Cutler, an attractive dark-haired
woman with the merciless eyes of someone who enjoyed vivisection, pulled the
sheet from SG.
"She's conscious," Cutler said, as SG raised her head. "Why wasn't she
sedated?"
"I dunno," the tall one answered. "She was out when we picked her up. Guess
the stuff the fat man gave her just wore out."
SG tried to sit up, but Cutler pushed her back.
"Lie down," she commanded. "We've got an examination to do." She ran her
hands expertly over SG's body, then told her to turn over. "There's rawness
here around the rectum," Cutler told Hammond. "And, ugh, there's something
seeping out of her vagina. I think it's semen."
Hammond was very annoyed.
"Jerome, Khalid, I've told you before, you're simply to pick up and deliver.
This will go in your job evaluations. I don't know how much longer the
Center is going to tolerate this kind of undisciplined behavior."
"Sorry, boss," said the tall one, Jerome.
After the black men left, Cutler said, "Let's get to work. We've got a
helicopter on call for her liver and the kidneys are staying here in town."
"I don't know," said Hammond. "It seems such a waste. She's quite
beautiful."
"And expensive," said Cutler, icily. "We've got 20 grand invested in this
piece of meat."
At which point, SG, whom they seemed to have forgotten was awake, offered
helpfully, "I don't want to make trouble. What do you want of me?"
Her voice startled them. Cutler said, "We're going to have to sedate you.
Then we're going to do a little operation. It won't take long." She opened a
cabinet and pulled out a hypodermic.
"Wait a minute, Helen," said Hammond. "Maybe there is a way we can recoup
our investment and still allow this young woman to enjoy something
approaching a normal life span. What about the Sexual Response Clinic? She
seems made to order for it."
Cutler frowned. "People are counting on her organs. People we can help."
"Cut the bullshit, Helen," Hammond said. "You just enjoy carving, especially
when it's an attractive young woman."
"Is that a sin?" Cutler asked innocently. "Is it so terrible to enjoy your
work?"
"No, but there's more to this center than harvesting organs, profitable
though it may be. The Sexual Response Clinic is doing quite nicely, but it
hasn't yet won a national reputation. This young woman is just the sort of
talent we need to break through to the top tier."
Cutler knew that Hammond was weak, but he was also stubborn. Tactical
retreats were sometimes necessary to keep him under control in the long run.
"As you wish, Harry. I was just trying to be helpful," she said.
*****
Hammond's faith in SG's sexual potential was richly rewarded. She was a
natural. They made several instructional videos in a studio deep with in the
Center, with well-hung actors from New York or California flown in for the
purpose - or with another young woman for lesbian instruction. But mostly SG
performed live, in a small room in front of a two-way mirror. Behind it were
the clinic's clients and one or two therapists. Hammond, though he had many
other obligations at the Center, dropped in on these sessions as often as
possible. He found them immensely arousing, and he had insisted that SG keep
her leather collar. The hint of slavery and degradation added so much to her
allure.
Cutler came by occasionally, too. She was biding her time, waiting for SG -
or the Foundling, as she called her - to make some major blunder and
embarrass Hammond into agreeing she was worth more as transplant meat than
as a porn star. But that wasn't the only reason for Cutler's interest. The
Foundling fascinated her from the very first day, when she tried to draw a
blood sample and discovered that the needle wouldn't penetrate her skin.
Quite remarkable.
Hammond, of course, hadn't been interested. He wasn't a blood-and-guts sort
of doctor. Administration and public relations were his forte. That and
occasional sexual bouts with Cutler. These had become rarer and rarer, until
the Foundling showed up. Now he seemed re-energized. Which was another
reason Cutler hated her. Who wanted a man who was good in the sack only when
fantasizing about another woman?
It was late on a Friday afternoon, when Cutler looked into the small
auditorium where the sex clinic clients sat to watch the Foundling perform.
The auditorium was empty, but there, on the other side of the glass,
artfully illuminated, was the Foundling, on a chaise lounge, practicing. She
caressed her pussy and moaned softly. Foundling, hell, the Fondling was more
like it, thought Cutler.
Then the door to the small studio opened and a man peered in. Cutler
recognized him as the new man on the janitorial crew. There was something
creepy about him, but Fletcher, the head of maintenance, said he was the
sort of young man who might come in handy one day for other assignments. The
kind of assignments Jerome and Khalid had carried out until they were
terminated and put to better use.
*****
SG opened her eyes when she heard a floorboard creak. The stage lights made
it hard for her to see who had entered. But they were perfect for Jake -
yes, the same Jake the police had given up looking for. He saw SG in all her
glory, lying there and staring in his direction.
It was the bitch he was accused of murdering. It was the bitch Loopy and Irv
and that asshole Pete were now in jail for supposedly having helped snuff.
And here she was, like she was some kind of porn queen, wearing nothing but
a leather collar.
SG rose just as Jake stepped into the light. She gasped and looked
frantically for a way to escape. There was none. He was between her and the
door.
"Fancy meeting you here," he said quietly. "I heard you was dead."
On the other side of the glass, Cutler could hear as well as see as this
dramatic reunion unfolded. She wondered if this were a rehearsal for a video
the clinic was producing.
Jake quickly made it clear that this was for real. He grabbed SG around the
waist as she tried to rush by him, then slammed her to the floor. Cutler
moved to the glass to see what would happen next. She was breathing heavily.
It was wonderfully exciting.
What happened next was that SG got unsteadily to her feet just in time for
Jake to slam his fist into her gut. Back down she went, this time on her
face. He grabbed the collar around her neck, pulled her up, then sent her
careening into the back wall. The impact was more than the thin stage wall
was built for. SG plunged through it and into a maintenance storage area
behind it. Jake followed quickly. He held her collar while searching a
pegboard full of tools. Cutler could barely see them, since they were beyond
the range of the stage lighting. But Jake dragged her back into the studio.
He was carrying a large pipe wrench.
SG was begging now, offering any and all kinds of sexual favors, anything to
avoid a beating with the wrench. Jake seemed amused.
He smiled as he raised the wrench and brought it down on her upturned face.
The thud was sickening, and Cutler turned away with a cry - a cry that Jake
heard.
He froze. Someone was watching. He stepped close to the one-way mirror and
tried to look through it. He could see only his own reflection, and the
reflection of SG lying unconscious on the floor.
Cutler slipped out of the auditorium and headed down the hall to Security.
McKinnon and Jones were on duty.
"Quick," she said, "a janitor has just bludgeoned one of our employees at
the Clinic studio. Get him before gets out of here, get him and kill him."
Then she grabbed the phone and called upstairs to Transplant Express.
"Get down to Lower Level 2 fast and bring a crash cart. We've got an
unexpected donor."
Then she punched Hammond's extension. She hoped he was in. She would enjoy
this.
"Harry, our little Foundling's had an accident. No, I didn't have anything
to do with it. But Express is on the way down. I'll meet you in the OR. This
should be fun."
