Tainted Hearts by Cyndi Friberg

expected.”
    “What did you expect?”
    “A…scientist.”
    Her brow shot up at that. “I think you just
insulted me.”
    Stepping away from the doorway, he motioned
toward the outer room. “That wasn’t my intention, I assure you.
You’re refreshing and unique, but why did you consider me foolish
enough to leave a weapon under the bed?”
    She ignored his silent directive and
meandered farther into the room, determined to complete her task.
Two windows. All of the others had been securely sealed, so she
didn’t humiliate herself by attempting to lift them. The built-in
blinds made smashing through them impossible, even if the panes
were breakable. Such a tidy little cage.
    “There’s something I’d like you to see.” He
waited until she glanced at him to add, “Unless there’s a reason
you’re loitering in my bedroom.”
    Not dignifying the jibe with a reaction, she
strolled past him and into the main room of the lodge. Escape
wasn’t much of an option even if she managed to get out of the
building. Mountains and trees surrounded them as far as her eyes
could see. The nearest person could be just over the next rise or
several hundred miles away. She had no way of knowing.
    “Come here.” He patted the sofa beside where
he was sitting, but she chose the adjacent chair instead. He
chuckled at her obstinate antics. “Play.”
    His voice command triggered the monitor
directly in front of him. Tuesday pivoted slightly as Vonne
Lucero’s office materialized on screen. The date/time stamp in the
corner of the image told her when the conversation had taken
place.
    General Bettencourt’s revelation probably
should have surprised her, but it didn’t. She had known his
motivation had nothing to do with the SP-64. “Pause,” she said
clearly, and the image froze. “How did you get this?”
    “You just learned that the President of
Unified North America is trying to blackmail you and that’s what
you want to know?”
    “Trying is the operative word. You’ve just
provided me with the protection I need to see that I’m not forced
into anything.”
    “Only if I choose to share it with you.”
    She scowled at him. “I see. We’re still
negotiating.”
    “I will never stop negotiating. Keep that in
mind.”
    Turning back to the screen, she said,
“Play.”
    The propaganda Job had sent her ran in
tandem through her mind as she watched the rest of the recording.
Job wanted the world to believe PURE was a wholesome, orderly
environment where those not corrupted by vanity’s taint could live
in peace, protected from the genetic mutation God had unleashed as
a sort of purging judgment. No one with a “Purity Rating” higher
than 0.9 was allowed within the stronghold.
    Bettencourt thought she’d been kidnapped by
Job. Barely suppressing a shudder, she glanced at her captor. Job’s
public image, the face used for PURE broadcasts, the face in his
messages could be anyone—or no one.
    Had she been kidnapped by the real Job? That
had been her first suspicion.
    “Tell her the president’s daughter is likely
using the name Rahab,” the general said and the image faded to
black.
    “How does Bettencourt know what name she’s
using?” Marc mused.
    The sofa squeaked as Marc stood, but Tuesday
couldn’t drag her gaze from the blank screen. Fear pounded through
her veins, stronger now than it had been when she’d emerged from
the drug-induced stupor. Was there even a little girl? Was this a
test? Some sick game?
    What did he really want with her?
    She licked her lips slowly, trying not to
reveal her escalating anxiety. Should she confront him or just play
along?
    What difference would it make in the long
run?
    “Okay. What are you thinking now? Somehow I
doubt this one’s going to make me laugh.”
    He was standing, so she stood, dragging her
gaze to his. “Are you Job?”
    Closing his eyes, he heaved an exasperated
sigh. “I thought we had this all settled. I am not Job and I have
no affiliation with those