Blind Faith - Sharon Sala Page 0,100

the shocking revelations of the Genesis baby’s existence.

Finally, the last of the invited guests had arrived, and the checkpoint was shut down. The guards shut the doors into the ballroom, and then four of them stood guard outside while the men Special Agent Raines had brought with him were inside and set up at their specific points around the ballroom.

Wyrick and Charlie were already there, waiting in a small room just off the stage, and she’d been sitting in total silence with her hands folded in her lap ever since their arrival, gathering herself for what was coming.

Charlie wished he had words to ease her.

He glanced at the clock. It was almost time.

And then Hank came knocking on the door.

He got up and opened it.

“It’s time,” Hank said.

“Is the live feed set up?” Charlie asked.

“It’s all a go. I haven’t seen this much detail since my last assignment with the president. You did good, Wyrick.”

She stood up, then lifted her chin in a familiar gesture Charlie recognized. She was ready for battle.

“Just trying to stay alive,” she said.

Hank grimaced. “Would it help if I mentioned you look like ten million bucks?”

She shrugged. “It’s all about the mask you present to the world—and I’m about to spill my guts in front of it.”

“You did a damn fine thing,” Hank said. “We’re taking down human trafficking rings by the hour. We’ve shut down more illegal research labs, and there’s so much more that’s coming down with it. God only knows how many lives you’re saving.”

Wyrick glanced at Charlie.

“Right beside you,” he said.

She nodded. “Then let’s go.”

Hank led them across the hall into the backstage area of the ballroom.

The journalists had already taken their seats, so when Hank gave a signal for the sound crew to stop the music, the room fell silent. All eyes were focused on a spotlight sweeping across the stage. When the curtains began to open, the hush deepened—and then she appeared, pausing a moment in the light.

The fact that she was bald seemed to go with her otherworldly appearance. She was unusually tall and whip-thin, and wearing formfitting pants in black leather, silver over-the-knee boots with three-inch heels, silver glitter eye shadow framing eyes so dark they looked black. Her lips were red, which then drew the eye to the red-and-black dragon on her chest, visible through a white shirt so sheer that it shimmered.

When she started walking toward the podium like a panther stalking prey, the people in the front row leaned back in their seats.

Then Charlie Dodge appeared behind her. Taller than her six-plus feet by five inches, wearing dark slacks and a Western-style sport coat with a white open-collar shirt beneath, he matched her stride all the way to the microphone.

Within seconds, three agents from the FBI, including Special Agent Hank Raines, took their places onstage a distance behind her. There was no mistaking the level of security she’d brought with her or why it was there. They’d all read the files. They knew about the continuing arrests that had ensued since the files were released, and they thought they knew Jade Wyrick. But they were wrong.

Jade was stone-faced and focused when she reached the podium. She paused until she caught a glimpse of Charlie to her right, noted the location of the television crews scattered about the room that would be filming live, and then she turned her attention to the audience before her.

“My name is Jade Wyrick, and this press conference is a one and done. I won’t be available for interviews later. There will be no personal appearances on talk shows. I am not available for your entertainment. After being stalked for years, then tailed everywhere I went, there were two attempts made on my life. The last one less than two weeks ago. After being shot out of the air, I crawled out of a burning chopper, bleeding out with two bullet wounds. My boss, Charlie Dodge, who stands here with me, was with the search team who found me before I died, and I am still in recovery from that. I knew then that as long as Universal Theorem was still in business under Cyrus Parks, my life wasn’t worth a shit. I’m going public purely to save my life.”

Then she glanced at all of the cameras.

“You’ve all read varying stories about the people who made me—and what they did afterward. How many women died. How many embryos were genetically and medically manipulated trying to re-create me. You all named