Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Matt
My cellphone starts to ring as I walk to Hutton’s room located on the other side of the hotel. Prick made me call the front desk to find his room.
“Scholl.” I take a swallow of the hotel complimentary coffee and almost gag at the taste.
“Agent Scholl, this is Bureau Chief Barnes, we had training together a couple of years ago. The reason I’m reaching out is because one of my field agents, Mark Hoyt, gave me your number to call. He’s been working with someone you both know.”
This oughta be good. I lean against the wall outside Hutton’s door.
“Yeah, I remember you, Dean. You do realize you’re calling me in the middle of the night, right?” Blowing out a deep breath, I try to prepare for this curve ball that’s sure to be coming. At every turn, since Camp Carroll, I’ve felt off kilter.
“It’s urgent. That’s why I am currently outside your hotel to speak in person. Lawrence Hutton’s kid wants to meet with us. Has some information.”
Well, look at that, another surprise to digest.
“I’m at his room. Four nineteen. Just understand that he’s refused to talk to anyone up until tonight, so I’m going to insist a pat down on you. I’m aware that there’s a leak.”
Dean grunts, “It sounds like I have a few things to catch you up on. Be there in a few minutes.”
Hutton answers the door with the cat half wrapped around his neck. At least it appears clean now. “That was quick.” He smirks to himself.
“You killed the mood, what can I say.” Fucking ass. I give the furball with claws and Hutton wide berth when I enter the room.
On the table in the room, he has a lockbox, a computer drive, and a laptop. “What type of dramatic interlude do you have planned now? Because it’s all a big game to you, isn’t it?” It rankles me to no end how tight lipped he’s been. He’s even been willing to assume blame for the massacre.
I don’t understand why.
Another knock and Hutton lets Dean in. He’s in jeans, a T-shirt, and ballcap. I pat him down and nod. Once we’re both seated at the table and Hutton is leaning against the wall across the room, I finally press him. “It’s the middle of the fucking night, kid. What’s going on?”
Dean speaks up first, “Have you ever heard of the Adam and Eve project?”
“No. What’s that?” I lean back in the chair. Bracing myself, because I sense this is going to take a direction I’m not going to like. Not that I’ve been fond of anything linked to Camp Carroll.
“Forty years ago, the FBI partnered with some shadow groups in the government. Initially-”
“Define that.”
“Money. Old families. Private labs.”
I’d heard whispers of gene studies at Quantico, but I’d dismissed it as conspiracy theories.
I clear my throat. “Initially?”
“Yes. It began with curing disease. Advancing genetics.” Dean takes a breath. “Then certain people realized it had…other applications. They started looking for specific genetic markers.”
Hutton sits on the side of the bed and pets the cat. I almost fall off my chair watching him pet the cat. He had that thing under his shirt. “Okay… what do you mean by ‘markers’?”
“A researcher found a marker in a very small percentage of people’s DNA.”
“How small?” I ask.
“Small. Less than half a percent of the population. Testing back then was limited…publicly. But this marker, they called the Adam gene-”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter to myself.
Dean continues, “It resisted mutation, and other tests showed it to degrade at a much slower rate, it withstood viruses and bacteria.”
“You’re talking about engineered immunity?” I clarify.
“No. Natural. It was classified immediately.”
Dean takes a breath and I sit forward with my forearms on my thighs. Hutton doesn’t even seem to be listening.
“So how long before rudimentary DNA testing was being done?” Greedy fucking bastards.
“A good decade? The thing is… because of what they were able to find out testing the Adam gene, a handful of people took it a step further.” He looks over at Hutton who is playing with the cat.
“They used people as lab rats.”
“No,” I say.
“Test tube babies. Surrogates.”
“They bred them?”
“It was called the Adam and Eve project.”
“Lawrence Hutton, a genius by all rights, got sucked into making the world better by repopulating it. With the kids that they were testing. Less likely to become ill, age slower, and be stronger and healthier.” Dean makes a disgusted face.
“I could give you more information, but…” He shoves the computer drive my way pointing his thumb over his shoulder towards Hutton. “He was able to gather proof of what was happening at Camp Carroll.”
“That’s what you were going to tell me?” Rage burns a path through me. Not at Hutton, but at his father and all the people responsible for this horrifying science experiment. “Why didn’t say something about this before now? What does Eden have to do with this?”
“You were asking the wrong questions.”
Dean seems confused by our exchange.
“Who’s Eden?” Dean asks me.
“Hold on.” I lift a finger as I call her cellphone. When she answers I ask her to come to room four nineteen with Blaine. This concerns her directly and she deserves to hear it.
“Listen… that’s not the only thing.” Dean nervously looks at Hutton. “The FBI was looking for new ways to fuck with prisoners of war. To screw up the minds of the enemy…”
“Memory,” Hutton injects.
“To scramble thoughts and memories.”
“The test subjects… fuck… don’t tell me they were kids…” I glance back at Hutton who is staring at the wall with his back to us. “Are you fucking serious right now?”
“Yes.”
Dean folds his arms over his chest. “The federal government, CIA, FBI, and those shadow groups…everyone was involved.”
“Soldiers and mind control.”
“Manipulate their memories, fucking erase them if they want. When we were able to get a couple of agents undercover at Camp Carroll and Hutton’s Medical Research lab…we,” He shakes his head as there’s a loud knock on the room door.
Hutton silently lets them in before starting to walk out.
“Hey… where are you going?”
I stand to follow him, but he turns back and says, “Caleb should be here, too.”
Once we’ve all been gathered in Hutton’s room, Dean continues, “We lost our undercover agents in the massacre, but Hutton was able to get good information that he hid away. Once they tried to scrap it all and killed everyone at Camp Carroll, we knew that Hutton was going to be hunted down by them.”
“No,” Hutton says in a detached way. “They wanted me to make it out. I was sent to take out a bigger threat.”
“None of this can be real. It sounds like Twilight Zone shit,” Blaine says while clutching Eden’s hand.
She’s pales, not uttering a single word.
“I assure you, it’s very real.” Dean turns his attention back to me.
“Here’s where it overlaps with your investigation into the Lassiter girls.
The major contributor to the Adam and Eve project was John Lassiter, and Lassiter’s stepson Michael Wells.
” Considering the fact, I’m looking at Wells as the reason Joan’s daughters never returned home, I’m not only interested, I’m on the edge of my seat.
“Mrs. Lassiter made it sound like both she and her husband didn’t have a relationship with Wells.” I reach over taking Eden’s other hand.
“I wouldn’t shout it from the rooftops if I was doing illegal and immoral things with someone, either. In fact, it makes sense to put the blame entirely on Wells. He can’t fight their wealth or power, can he?” Dean theorizes.
Eden speaks up, “Agent Barnes… was Caroline Bradford ever involved with the Naturalists or Camp Carroll?”
During this whole meeting, she’d slipped from my mind. Call it lack of sleep or the fact that my part in her demise makes me sick. I’m avoiding thinking about it.
Dean’s brows furrow. “Bradford? I remember that name coming up, but Rafferty Bradford?” He nods to the lockbox.
“He became an unwilling participant in the Adam and Eve project. What started as a weekend away in high school with a group of his friends, ended in his life destroyed. From what we can tell John Lassiter had his daughters invite their friends Hutton, Bradford, French, and Hollings… away to a cabin in upstate New York to party. That was the start… he drugged them each, took blood…” He looks at Eden and frowns.
“I don’t know how much you want to hear about this. ”
“Everything,” Eden says firmly. “I’m not some fragile flower. I want to hear the truth.”
“Lassiter and other scientists tested the girls’ friends.
.. either their blood or DNA somehow. They were able to get eggs from Britteen Hollings, keep in mind she has no memory of this or the weekend, sperm from Hutton and Bradford.
All of them held this marker, which was lucky for Lassiter since it’s only one in fifty million that would…
give or take.” He tries to chuckle and quickly reddens frowning.
“Hollings, French… they don’t remember a thing… well, supposedly.”
“What do you mean?” I ask Dean.
“Britteen Hollings when questioned about the time they were gone or had ‘run away’ said she was high on cocaine, and it was gone from her memory. However, her family put her in a facility in Finland for people with seizure disorders. She has major seizures, and they can’t pinpoint from what.
Our theory is the slurry of drugs they were using to wipe their memories caused brain damage.
French refuses to admit he was there; we know he was.
However, a business acquaintance once revealed to us that he has debilitating insomnia…
he’s petrified of sleeping and insists that someone watch him while he sleeps.
Rafferty Bradford developed substance abuse issues.
None of them were okay after their weekend away. ”
Fuck me.
Slurry of drugs. Like Caleb. Like Eden.
What in the fucking hell is happening here?
“I... I don’t understand. Why would John Lassiter do that to his own daughters and their friends?” Eden’s eyes are glistening with tears as she wraps her arms around her middle. “Do… do you think he killed them to keep them from talking to us?”
Hutton’s voice booms behind her, “They’re not dead. Neither one of them.”
All of us spin in his direction. “Jump in anytime here, kid. What do you know about the Lassiter girls and their disappearance.”
“Whatever John Lassiter was involved in… they were, too. Willingly. They’re monsters.” His teeth grit, lips pressed tight, Hutton’s detached mode is gone.
Dean nods in agreement. “His daughters lured their friends in.”
Caleb hadn’t spoken and I had almost forgotten he was in the room. “Why would someone try and drug me to erase memories or make people think I’m crazy?”
“You know something you shouldn’t,” Hutton answers him matter of factly.
Eden turns to Hutton. “How can you be sure that they’re alive? One of their bodies was found in a car fire.”
He ignores her question looking at Dean, “Can we get on with it?”
Dean takes a key from his pocket opening the lockbox. Inside are gloves and some testing equipment.
“What’s that?” I ask Dean as he pulls out long cotton swabs.
“Eden, can you put this in your mouth and run it up and down each cheek ten times. Each side.”
I start to object, but Blaine beats me to it.
“Whoa… no, wait. What for?” He grabs the swabs from Dean’s outstretched hand.
“It’s a theory… we don’t know unless Eden is tested.” I really hate where this is going. It would make the most sense.
“Theory?” she asks with her head tilted and mouth open slightly.
“You might very well be Eve.”