A Treasure Deep by Alton Gansky Read Free Book Online Page B

school, he had been vibrant,
healthy, and had moved with the spring of youth. He’d been out of
grad school less than a year when he noticed that the sharp edge of
his strength had been dulled. He ignored it. There was research to
do, a company to found, patents to be obtained and defended.
Genetic manipulation of food and animals were the keys to the
future. Humans, too, could be altered, life extended, babies
improved, and much more. Time was one thing he couldn’t control,
and he was therefore committed to not squandering it.
    Yet as the days passed, his strength waned.
Graceful walking was replaced with a limp. Standing straight gave
way to wobbling. Soon, too soon, a wheelchair replaced his legs.
That was the way with ALS—Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis. His future
was darker than the room in which he sat.
    The bell chimed again.
    “All right!” Rutherford said. He meant to
shout it, but his days of shouting were gone. At least I still have
a voice, he told himself. He could still speak. He had not had
pneumonia, which afflicted every ALS patient sooner or later, nor
had the affliction forced him to have a tracheotomy—yet. Those
things loomed in his future—unless his plan was successful. Raising
a tremulous hand that wore a thin, stiff brace, he muted the music
in the room and pressed a large button on a console mounted to his
wheelchair. The brace, plastic and leather, provided the strength
his wrist could no longer supply.
    The automatic door to his office opened with
a whirring sound, and a tall man with broad shoulders and narrow
waist entered. He was dressed in a dark blue tailored suit. A
yellow silk tie hung from his neck with the precision of a plumb
bob.
    Rutherford knew the man well. And he hated
him, hated him for his erect stature and the firm muscles that he
knew were hidden away under the suit. He hated him for his freedom
of mobility, his clear, precise voice, and for the fact that he
didn’t drool, a new indignity Rutherford was forced to endure.
    He also loved the man. No employee was more
loyal or enduring. Alexander Olek crossed the threshold, and the
automatic door closed behind him. “I was becoming worried,” he said
in a smooth baritone.
    With a tightly-trimmed gray beard that
matched the band of hair that formed a reverse crown on his
otherwise bald head, he could easily be confused with a manservant.
As Rutherford’s constant companion, many had made that assumption.
But Alex was much more than he appeared. He’d come on staff as
“personal security” for Rutherford when a disgruntled competitor
had threatened his life for stealing pharmaceutical trade secrets.
The accusation had led to a bitter lawsuit in the civil courts. The
competitor lost the suit and, financially ruined beyond any hope of
salvage, committed suicide a month later. Rutherford had sent
flowers. It was the least he could do, or so he told himself.
    “I’m fine. I was just thinking,” Rutherford
replied. His words came intermittently and were often slurred.
“Have we heard?”
    “An early report,” Alex answered. “The
flyover went well, and our man is back in Bakersfield. He’s waiting
for the pictures which should be ready within the half hour.”
    “He’s sending the images by e-mail?”
Rutherford asked. He struggled to keep his head up and his eyes
fixed on his aide.
    “Yes. As attachments.”
    “He knows to encrypt everything?”
    “Yes, he’s a professional,” Alex offered.
“The e-mail account cannot be traced to us.”
    “But he’s not one of us. He’s outside the
office, a hired hand.”
    “That’s right. A private detective. I
personally checked his references. He’s tenacious.”
    “Just so long as he’s not stupid. Does he
know why we want the pictures?”
    “No. I allowed him to believe that it was a
business survey. He was happy with that and asked no
questions.”
    “Except what he’d be paid.”
    Alex nodded. “He did ask about that, but he
was happy with what I