Chapter 71 (2/2)

”Then... why?” Dan asked, unable to properly express the sheer scope of his question. Just why? Why keep her around? Why ask for her help? Why involve her at all?

Tawny shrugged. ”She's got a good reason to be the way that she is, and she's damn good at her job.” He said it with such finality, such conviction, that Dan couldn't help but understand. The woman had a job, she did her job well. That was all Tawny required from her. All else was secondary.

Dan was in dangerous territory, now. He had questions, and Tawny had answers. The path forward was clear, yet riddled with dangers. He couldn't ask the wrong question, he couldn't dig too deep. But he had to know.

Dan let some of his very real hesitance leak into his voice. ”Can you tell me a bit about her background, professor?” The question garnered a look, more questioning then reprimanding, so Dan clarified. ”I don't think I'm willing to work with someone who I know so little about. Especially with such a sensitive topic.”

Tawny frowned. ”If you're worried about her being biased against mutates, don't be. I told you didn't I? She's willing to work with Gregoir, as well.”

That was not Dan's concern, but it was an extremely useful cover. Mutates, by and large, faced little bigotry. Certainly not on the scale of a Natural. However, there was always the odd madman or three, ready and willing to lash out at something slightly different from himself.

”She'd be pretty terrible at her job if that were the case,” Tawny continued. ”She mostly advises on low-impact upgrades, but she has consulted with the APD in the past. The department has two mutates of our own, and she has never shown any sort of ill-intent towards them.”

Dan shrugged helplessly. The simple motion somehow managed to convey the totality of his feelings on this matter.

Tawny sighed heavily. ”Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to give you a brief background on her.”

Dan was careful not to smile too triumphantly.

”She's been in the business for,” he paused, mentally calculating, ”oh, nearly fifteen years now. A veteran, for certain.”

”Have you known her from the beginning?” Dan inquired curiously.

”No, only about half that long,” the older man answered, waving his hand. ”This was while I was still a private eye, but looking to get out of the business. I was introduced to Matilda through an old client; she helped me prepare for my transition into police work.”

Dan nodded, accepting that a brief explanation was the best that he'd get. ”So, quite good at her job, then?”

”Quite,” Tawny agreed dryly.

”And her, uh, demeanor?” Dan searched for a kinder way to phrase his question, and failed. ”I don't mean to insult your friend, but when I spoke to her at Red Creek she came off as slightly... well, off.”

The officer's ears drooped slightly as he nodded. ”True, her attitude leaves much to be desired. Still, she does not allow it to affect her work. I think you'll find her extremely professional.” He paused, considering his last statement, then amended, ”When in a professional setting.”

Another explanation that told Dan nothing. Time for a more honest approach.

”I don't think I want to work with a person like that,” he admitted frankly. Hell, he might even be able to get out of this commitment entirely. He just needed to lay his cards out on the table. ”She gives me a bad feeling. I don't have a history with her like you do, and I'm not willing to overlook my instincts.”

Tawny watched him for several long seconds, evaluating his honesty. He would find no cracks; Dan was genuine. The officer must have seen such, as he groaned softly to himself.

”Fine,” Tawny said, and for a moment Dan was elated. Then, the man continued, ”I guess you've earned a bit of an explanation. I wouldn't want you to pass up a valuable opportunity because of a simple misunderstanding.”

Dan's optimism crashed and burned with surprising alacrity.

”Matilda's sister was diagnosed with juvenile-ALS when she was only six years old. Lou Gehrig's disease,” the man added, seeing Dan's confusion. ”There is no purely medicinal cure, not even today. Her particular case progressed far more quickly than most, and it was estimated that she had less than a decade to live. They would not be pleasant years, either.” Tawny shook his head, sadly. He paused, his face jerking to face Dan. ”This is all secondhand, you must understand. Matilda has not spoken of this to me, nor to anyone, I suspect. Not for many years. You will not mention it to her.”

Dan nodded quickly, startled by his professor's sudden intensity.

”Right. Right.” Tawny ran his hand through his hair, huffing to himself. ”So, they made a desperate choice. There was a... reflex upgrade, of some sort. I don't know the name, and it was still in its infancy. Matilda's family arranged for her younger sister to receive the upgrade long before it was ready. The thought was that it might overwrite her degenerating motor neurons with fresh, new ones. Maybe cure her, or at least buy her a few years of mobility.”

”It killed her instead,” Dan stated with certainty.

”No.” Tawny shook his head. ”It didn't.”

Dan blinked. Then what, exactly, was the woman's problem?

”It worked, in a way,” Tawny explained slowly. ”It kept her sister alive. It halted the disease's progression, but did not cure her. She remains alive to this day, though utterly immobile.” Dan's thoughts must have been written on his face, because the older man sighed. ”It's not that the procedure failed, that made Matilda who she is. It's that it succeeded, not five years later. It was a huge story at the time.” Tawny spread his hands through the air, framing a picture. ”A cure for the incurable. This one Cambridge professor had the same idea that Matilda's family did, but the upgrade been refined enough by then to actually work.”

”Ah,” Dan stated, as the reality sunk in. ”And upgrades are permanent.”

”That is the common consensus, yes,” Tawny agreed with slight amusement. ”Sometimes, though, I think Matilda seeks to find a way around that fact. I think that she's looking for a way to cure her sister, as impossible as that idea might be.” He gave Dan a steely look. ”She's not a bad person, just driven. You'd do well to listen to her advice.”

Dan nodded in assent, realizing that the conversation was over. He'd get nothing more from Tawny. He needed to process what he learned, anyway. He needed to tell Abby. He needed a second opinion. He needed to know if his dislike of the woman was blinding him to something obvious.

Because, no matter what Tawny said, no matter how noble Matilda Fairbanks's intentions might be...

Dan did not trust her. Not a single bit.