Genesis Code, (Book 1, Genesis Series)

Chapter 1

Bullshit. 'Did Deighton put you up to this? I was cleared for duty.' At just forty-five, the industry deemed Bill young to take the lead on missions—with humans living a century and a half, anyone under sixty was considered young—but his ability to do the job well had won him the role.

Gilchrist paused. 'Yes, Charles did ask me to check in with you. This is an important mission, Bill. We want to make sure you're up to the task.'

'Of course I am.' He tried to keep his anger in check. 'Seems a bit late for Deighton to have second thoughts.'

'It's just... your wife, and what happened. You still haven't dealt with her death.' Gilchrist laid on the charm so thick, Bill wanted to puke. 'Deighton knows you're capable, as do I. We like to keep a close eye on our best people.'

Deighton, the CEO of the World Government, sending his lackey Daphne Gilchrist to do his dirty work? Sounded like him. Deighton, who'd assigned Isla Taggart to work on this planet, was in his mind partly responsible for her disappearance.

'If he's so concerned why doesn't he call me himself?'

'You know that's not how this works. Charles Deighton is a busy man.'

Bill bit his tongue. He needed out of this conversation before he said something he regretted.

'I don't want anything to go wrong tomorrow,' Gilchrist added. There was a new edge to her voice.

'I'm ready, and so is my team.'

'What are your plans?'

'To observe the Indigene and see what it does.'

'That means no interference from you or your team.'

'I understand that.'

A brief silence followed, then Gilchrist said, 'Are you absolutely sure you're up to this?'

'I'm fine,' he said a little too fast. 'My job is to monitor their activity and that's what I plan to do. I don't let my personal feelings affect my work.' As soon as he'd said the words, he knew it was a lie.

'Look, Bill. I won't sugar-coat it for you. This could be a turning point in the investigation or an all-out disaster. Whatever happens, I need to know I can count on you to keep it together.'

Bill's pulse thrummed in his throat. 'Yes, you can.'

'Good. And remember why we picked you. It was because of your success with Hunt. Deighton's expectations are high.'

'Understood.'

Gilchrist clicked off leaving Bill to ponder his most high profile case.

Larry Hunt. Just hearing his name made his shoulder throb. Even while he was incarcerated, the man's effect on him wouldn't lessen. To say the World Government regretted their involvement with the man who controlled seventy percent of the food replication business was an understatement. The government had a lot to lose, but also plenty to gain from their majority stake in Hunt Technologies. But what they would not tolerate was shady dealings and undervalued share prices threatening that investment.

He yanked the earpiece out of his ear and tossed it onto the table. The other patrons hadn't paid his conversation any mind. Not that he cared. He only kept up the pretense of being in control so Deighton wouldn't find a reason to take him off the case. Despite his promises to Gilchrist, he planned to get close to the race he suspected to have orchestrated Isla's disappearance.

Bill thumbed a tear from his eye. With a job still to do, he tuned in to his surroundings.

Cantaloupe restaurant, with its trademark red-and-white chequered cloth-covered tables, was full for the dinner-time rush. He watched as over-friendly servers took new orders and well-off patrons with their children in tow settled their bills at the counter with a brief scan of their identity chips. It chilled him to think that one or more of the Indigenes had been here in this very restaurant. Nocturnal creatures by nature, the Indigenes' appearance during daytime hours marked a change in behaviour for them. They were becoming bolder and riskier in their choices.

Bill knew Cantaloupe intimately, having been there before, but today, his goal was to get inside the head of the race he hunted. It took every effort to control his anger as he put himself in their shoes to understand their motives.

Why choose this place? Are they hunting for their next victim?

He rubbed the lingering static from his arm. They had been here recently. World Government intel given to the ITF had reported that an Indigene was on the verge of contacting a human.

He finished his meal and checked the time. It was already early evening and he still had a ton of confidential files on the Indigenes to comb through before tomorrow.

Time to study these fuckers.

Habits. Behaviours. Motivations. He would scrutinise every piece of information the government held on the race. The same race that went undetected until last year, twenty nine years after humans first terraformed the planet.

At the counter, he scanned his identity chip and charged the meal to his World Government account.

But the information the government had on the race was written hearsay at best. What did he or anybody really know about the elusive Indigenes?