One in Ten Ch. 06

"I'll take no response as a 'Yes, challenge accepted, Mr. Jensen'," I called out. I got no response as I was led away. It would have been very human of my guardians to talk to me. I was taken up one level and stuck into what was clearly an observation room, including the mirrored wall on one side. They even had two bottles of water on the table. The four chairs looked possibly comfortable.

I waited around five minutes. There was no clock in the room and my phone was long gone. Once I felt my keeper had gotten comfortable, I noticed I was getting sweaty. They'd jacked up the temperature on me. I took off my shirt, climbed up on the table and crossed my legs. The table wasn't long enough for me to stretch out on.

I laid out, rolled my shirt into a small pillow and closed my eyes. A minute later-

"Mr. Jensen, please get off the table, put your shirt back on and resume a normal sitting posture," a feminine voice spoke over the intercom.

"I don't understand," I said without opening my eyes.

She repeated her orders.

"But I would like a nap," I yawned. "Can I have a bed brought in?"

"No - now get off the table, get dressed and sit down."

"But I don't want to," I mumbled. I'd secretly wanted to tell a woman that for years. You can't appreciate how precious that statement is unless you've lived a life devoid of real choice.

"Get off the table or we'll make you," the voice was beginning to sound annoyed. I didn't move until the door opened and two agents walked in. They weren't Dimples' people. I got off the table and complied. They glared then left. I counted to one hundred then repeated my actions.

"Mr. Jensen, get off the table," the voice snapped.

So the circus continued until I had two agents permanently stationed in the room with me. This made the whole heat thing amusing from my point of view. I had on my shirt - which I left open, while the agents were sweating like pigs in their jackets. The fact that they weren't drinking my bottled water told me my paranoia had been warranted.

"Are you going to behave if we leave you here?" one agent finally cracked.

"Are you going to believe me if I lie to you?" I grinned.

"Behave or we'll chain you to the chair," she threatened.

"But I'm not a criminal," I stated. "I'm a witness."

"What you are is a mouthy little slut," she growled.

"Wait, are you hitting on me?" I blinked.

"No," she declared a tad too quickly.

"Pity, because I really like physically fit chicks," I mused. "They are - delicious."

My fear must not have been showing in my eyes and I was already sweating, so that didn't matter. Only the food in my stomach was threatening to ruin my act.

"I'm on the job, you asshole," she snapped.

"What? Are either of us going anywhere until three-thirty?" I grinned. "You are stuck in here with me anyway."

"Do you imagine you are somehow irresistible?" she sneered. "Your body looks like it belongs on a hospital bed, not a hotel mattress."

"Are you suggesting that any man who goes to bed with you has to have a high pain tolerance?" I joked.

Her retort, long in coming, was cut off by Shelia Montanyard and Dimples coming into the room.

"Leave," Dimples commanded and the two agents beat feet quickly. I got up and made for the door as well - I was insane after all. Dimples put a hand on my bare, sweaty chest.

"No?" I pleaded as I feebly tried to move past her.

"Sit down, Mr. Jensen," Shelia snapped. "This is a National Security matter."

"Can I at least have something to drink?" I inquired. The two women glance at the water bottles. "I was thinking of something from a drinking fountain. For some reasons, those two agents, even when dying from dehydration, wouldn't drink those, so color me suspicious."

The fire in Dimple's eyes grew in intensity.

"They have a mild sedative that is meant to keep you calm," she said. My sense of accomplishment from gaining her recognition of my intelligence was lost in the new way she regarded me. I had suddenly become noteworthy in her estimation.

"The room is secure, Ms. Montanyard," Dimples said.

"Mr. Jensen, sit down," she commanded. I did so. I was still reeling from Dimple's look.

"Tell me all you know about Carabolix 37," Shelia demanded. I had won! Capri and I were walking out of here. I was going to have sex with Kuiko. I was going to repay those who had stood by me...and I was still off my rocker.

"No, first I..." I got out.

"Mr. Jensen, I have a Writ of Exclusion which pretty much suspends your civil rights for the extent of my investigation," Shelia threatened. "Your only means of egress from this calamity is to be immediately forthright and honest about what you know."

Shelia presented me with something on her tablet that was written in far more legalize than I could handle.

"I want my lawyer," I glared.

"You don't have the right to counsel anymore, Israel," Shelia corrected.

"We're done then," I shrugged.

"Very well, we'll extract what we need the hard way," Shelia remarked. She stood up and she and Dimples got ready to leave. At the door, Dimples turned and studied me. Shelia noticed and stopped just outside in the hallway.

"What is it, Mr. Jensen - Israel?" Dimples wondered.

"What are you talking about?" Shelia asked Dimples.

"He's known everything we were going to do to him. He's been one step ahead since...surveillance would suggest Sunday afternoon," Dimples kept drinking me in. "So, what is that you know that we've missed?"

"You both agree that I'm insane, right?" I nodded to Dimples. She came back into the room and, to keep her whole 'National Security' mystique, Shelia was forced to follow.

"Yes," Shelia said, "you are clearly unhinged."

"What are you going to give me, or inflict on me, to make me talk that doesn't shatter my psyche first?" I grinned.

They both blinked.

"You can win. I'm at your mercy. You have all the power in the world and all I have is the mind you have been kicking holes in for the past five years," I related. "The only problem is that you are likely to flush any knowledge you need down the drain first."

"Do you want to take that risk?" I smiled. Shelia said nothing and Dimples was her normal, cipher-like self. I am hardly the kind of guy who cracks highly successful legal minds on a regular basis. Yet, there was something Shelia wasn't telling me - a fear cloaked deep inside her imagination. It was the fear of death.

I took a chance.

"You've lost all forty doses, haven't you?" I whispered. Sure, I knew that twenty had probably ended up in me, but Delilah Fremont had told me she had the other twenty. Still, that wouldn't cause a panic unless...

"All the research data is gone too..." I mumbled. What had the good doctor done?

"What do you know about it?" Shelia moved delicately all of a sudden.

"Capri O'Hara," I demanded.

"This is a National Security manner," Shelia reminded me.

"You mean the same 'nation' that just voided my civil rights?" I spat angrily. I stood up and my chair flew back. "Face it, when I was finally using your rules to defend myself successful, you ladies got pissed, so you changed the rules so what little defense I could muster was removed. I hardly give a crap about anything you want, need, or require."

"Welcome to my world, Enola and Shelia," I growled. "What you want is now dependent on my good will, and your ability to earn it."

"No," Shelia shook her head, stood and left. Dimples followed. I sat back and waited. They had stolen my hope, my love, my health and my sanity at one time or another.

I wasn't suicidal. I didn't need to be. They were out to destroy me and I was alright with leaving the blood on their hands and souls, not mine. Thirty minutes later, they sent Angel in.

"Hey, Israel," she greeted me tenderly. "They tell me you need to cooperate. That you can help create all those changes you want to see happen. Right now you need to help them."

"What do you want me to do?" I replied with a tinge of hope. She pulled a chair around until we were knee to knee and face to face.

"Let go," she smiled. "Let this society die. Don't let us take another shred of your spirit to prop up a creation that doesn't deserve to be saved." I could imagine the collective groan rising up from the other side of the glass.

"I need a favor," I quietly asked Angel.

"I'll try," she smiled compassionately.

"Tonight, when we go to bed, could you keep the noise down?" I winked. "I'm letting Capri move in today and I'd hate to keep her awake."

The light in Angel's eyes glowed. God knows how many devices were examining and recording us - life in a fish bowl, as she had described it. Here she was, living my paranoid rantings.

"Hey, now," Angel flicked my nose. "Who said you could get a live-in woman that wasn't me?"

"Just because you are the best woman that has ever lived doesn't mean you can tell me what to do," I reminded her.

"Yes - yes, it does," she corrected me.

"You are not going to let me live free, are you?" I leaned into her.

"You are free to do whatever you want, Israel, as long as I'm free to stop you," she laughed.

"Peace - peace," I raised one hand in appeasement. "I'll take my partial victory and be quiet."

"Good boy," Angel hugged me. "Good boy."

There was their conundrum. I didn't hate women. Evidence showed I liked quite a few in fact. Yet, I hated the Beast, the collective soul of this society to the point where I could shed those passionate ties in order to see the terrible monster brought down.

They came and took Angel away. Some indeterminate time later, I was camped out on the desk, trying to get some sleep, when Capri, Shelia and Dimples came walking in. I sat up and looked at them, shirt still off and my ass still on the desk.

"They tried to expel me from the building," Capri informed me.

"How does it feel to be a cockroach?" I joked.

"Cockroach? I felt like a male cockroach. How much worse could it get?" she snickered.

"Enough levity, we need to get started - Carabolix 37. What do you know?" Shelia pressed as she took a seat.

"I need to go to the bathroom," I evaded.

"Why? You haven't..." and Shelia gave up. "Fine. Agent Treyvon," she directed the SAC. Whoops, it just occurred to me that there probably weren't any Men's rooms on this floor. We were in 'Women with Weapons' country - men not allowed.

"I have several conditions - no debate," I related as I slid off the table and loosely put my shirt on. Shelia was about to debate the point so I rushed my first one out. "I want everyone who was with us at lunch in this room when I get back." See, I had a new plan. I was sure if I had told Angel what it was, she would have quietly let me heal up so she could beat me black and blue all over again.

"This is a National Security issue, Mr. Jensen," she started.

"Your complaint has been noted and disregarded, Ms. Montanyard. Get it done," I snapped. Once upon a time, I might have been a male protagonist making a crucial decision. In my world, I was most likely a deranged villain ordering a depraved underling to do something so idiotic a five-year-old would normally decline on the fact that it was so stupid.

Whatever else was going through her mind, arguing with a mad man wasn't on Shelia's agenda. I went to the bathroom with Dimples while Shelia did what she needed to do. Dimples and I remained non-communicative until I was washing my hands. When I looked up from rinsing off, Dimples was suddenly in my space.

I hammered the terror back into its cage with desperate strength. Dimples reached out, placed her hand on the base of my neck and shoulder then slowly brought it up to my jawline. It wasn't sexual as much as exploratory. I fought back with what I had on hand. I put my hands on her hips and languidly brought them up her sides.

When my palms had settled beneath her underarms, I leaned in, until our eyes were only a few centimeters apart. I closed mine, took a deep inhalation then opened my eyes once more. I lifted her gently to the side so that I could move past her.

"You are no Angel," I murmured to Agent Dimples and exited the room.

"I'm not trying to be," she mused.

"Good for you. Ready to be a male office intern for Capri?" I jibbed.

"Of course," she came right back. I stumbled.

"Damn it!" I declared. "You and Shelia need to stop it. Just once let me zing you and get away with it."

"No," she stated. "Besides, you won, I lost. I'm big enough to admit it has happened - once in my lifetime."

"Conceited much?" I groaned.

"Everyday." Dimples bantered. "Psychotic much?"

"Only when I see women who think they are better than me," I volleyed.

"So, all the time then," she mused.

"Pretty much," I agreed.

"Tell me something," Dimples took me by the elbow right before I returned to our room.

"Does my lawyer need to be here?" I replied.

"You decided," Dimples nodded. "Why did Bethany Fremont share you with her sorority?"

"Ha," I laughed. "I had to ask her that, too. See, Bethany thinks she wins - she always wins."

"Touché," Dimples said before opening the door for me.

As our 'discussion' began, a few ideas began to press forward from the fog. First off, Delilah Fremont, why probably brilliant in her field, was hardly Goddess-like. Shelia was holding out on me some crucial information. I also owed my freedom to the fact that the Aurora Slasher had OCD.

Last point first; the Aurora Slasher (I never use her real name because I begged, pleaded, and cried out that name for 87 days because my very life depended on it) always cleaned up my area with those little white plastic bags - every - single - day. The results being that whatever the fuck she used on me was in a landfill somewhere and not in a police lab.

"Let's exchange information," I began.

"That's not how this works," Shelia shook her head.

"Listen and listen good," I glared at her. "I didn't put all these seriously smart, well-armed women in this room because I find it remotely satisfying to push people around."

"I believe violence is women's work. Since I only want the proper people killed, I've recruited smart women to do my bidding," I added. Okay, everyone reaffirmed their view that I'd totally flipped out - except Capri. She kept faith. "Now, I've been injected with Carabolix 37. I know where the other nineteen vials kept at St. Jerome's are too."

"Where are they?" Shelia inquired politely.

"No, that's not how it works. Tell me something I don't know," I struggled to not tremble. It took me a moment to realize this wasn't fear - it was excitement.

"We need those nineteen vials to ascertain they are some sort of cure," Shelia gave in.

"Tell me something I don't know. The ones at Augsburg Pharmaceutical's research facility and the project notes are gone. If they weren't, I wouldn't be here," I stared. "What that does make me wonder then is what I am doing here? Tell me something I don't know." There was a long, long pause. Shelia really should have spoken sooner.

"Children!" Capri yelled. "You have children." She was busily working on something. Shelia remained impassive.

"I know I have kids. I have sixteen kids," I reminded her.

"No, you have five 'post-Bethany' kids," Capri grinned wickedly at me. "One girl and four boys - all alive, though the youngest is only three months old."

"Even if the youngest dies," Seneca gasped, "that puts his survival rate at 66%." The chance my sons had of surviving the plague.

"Israel, you've had twenty-three kids in twenty-one years," Capri grinned. "The next woman who says you are not doing your part, I'm going to punch her in the ovaries."

"Oh my God," I gasped. "I need a gun! I need a gun!" Responding reasonably, no one handed me one. Maybe it was because I was a man. Maybe it was because I had no training. Maybe it was because they were all mistresses of their sanity.

"We can issue you a taser if you feel threatened," Special Agent Fraklos suggested.

"No - no, I need a gun," I insisted. "I want to walk around with a pistol pointed at my nuts and say 'one more step and the human race gets it!'" I giggled then fell out of my chair - giggling.

"If this man really holds the future of the human race in his ball sack, I'm swallowing my gun now," Agent Sosa remarked. Women were allowed to joke about suicide.

Shelia stood up and looked over the table until she could meet my eyes.

"Where are the other nineteen doses, Mr. Jensen?" she requested calmly. I waved off a reply until I could resume my seat and composure.

"Give me something first. That's the deal," I reiterated.

"When your children were born, they, like all children, had their amniotic fluid tested. They were all born with an unknown anti-body in them. By age one, those anti-bodies were all gone," she related. "Those anti-bodies were registered, but never studied. The first such anti-body was discovered five years ago."

"What am I missing here?" Capri questioned. "If you have the evidence from Israel's case and the amniotic fluid, why do you need him?" Seneca saved the day.

"If the fluid has an unknown contaminant, it is destroyed," Seneca gulped.

"And since the Aurora Slasher was never prosecuted for the kidnap and rape of Israel, the evidence in his case would have been scheduled for destruction a few months ago," Angel added.

I had been rendered a rare and precious commodity by acts of bureaucracy.

"Yet, you are sure it is me..." I couldn't put the last piece together.

"You Bitches!" Angel hopped up. To clarify my often-used refrain, she took up her jacket and rolled up her sleeve. She had a nice little cotton ball secured by medical tape.

They had taken Angel's blood, she had the anti-bodies which must have been earned the old fashion way - through injection. Four times on Saturday straight into her womb. I didn't believe it could be possible but I had been lowered to the status of an STD.

"I'm not an MD, but how in the hell are anti-bodies getting from him into her bloodstream," Capri intervened.

"We aren't talking about an anti-body," I blinked. "We are talking about a virus and since my daughters and Angel and every other woman I've slept with aren't dead, or even ill..."

"We need to know where the other doses are," Shelia insisted. Everyone in this room knew that there was only one disease that differentiated gender that we hadn't cured long ago.

"Special Agent Fraklos," I pleaded. She was the closest to a medical professional we had, or so I believed. I hadn't known how I would get here when I asked for Dimple's team, Angel, Seneca and Capri to join this little party, but I knew this moment was coming. Fraklos looked scared and there were two great reason for being so.

"Oh, Goddess," Fraklos' Mediterranean features noticeably paled. "Carabolix 37 is a form of the Gender Plague. They genetically altered the plague then gave it to those men to see what would happen. Oh, Goddess."

"Shelia," I turned the lead woman. "I was injected twenty times with Carabolix 37. If Dr. Fremont destroyed her batch, there is no more." She wanted to know so I told her.

"She could have killed us all," Sosa jumped up. "We need to arrest her immediately."

"On what evidence?" Dimples replied calmly. It was nice of her to keep this conversation at a level we could all hear. It implied to me that we were now useful to her in some way. "She is rich, well-respected and has scores of pharmaceutical contracts in the Federation and abroad."

"We have a weird mutation of the Gender Plague, a crazy old ex-cop serial killer and - Israel Jensen, a man whose sanity is always in question. The only leverage we do have is an abnormal number of males surviving their first year," she stated.

"If Israel has some sort of cure," Angel asked, "why did any of his boys die?"