The Judas Contact (Boomers Book 1) by Heather Long Page B

scans, the chip appears to have organic circuitry. Whether that circuitry was a part of the initial installation or developed through interaction with the brain remains undetermined. Tests have been inconclusive about the nature of the chip’s interaction. FMRI arrived late last night, machine has been installed, and calibration should be complete by lunchtime.”
    Ilsa thumbed off the recorder on the computer and leaned back in her chair. She switched screens and began scrolling through charts she’d begun constructing. For four days, the scientist alternated between demanding and completely oblivious. One thing she didn’t do was run, even when he’d asked her. The constant chatter might have been annoying, but he found that he preferred that to the eerie quiet punctuated by her mutters.
    She’d woken him twice from the short naps he allowed himself in the chair. By the end of day two, she’d begun to fidget. Whatever detail eluded her kept her from sleeping. He’d asked about the diagram the first day, but she just waved him off. She chewed on a fingernail as she stared at the diagram.
    “Ilsa?” It was his third attempt since the previous night to draw her out of the research. He wasn’t used to being ignored.
    And he really didn’t like it.
    “Not now.” She waved him off, leaning in closer to the screen.
    Standing, he walked over and pressed two keys on the keyboard. The screen went black and she jerked her gaze up. “What the hell?”
    “You’re exhausted. You’re squinting. You’re going to make mistakes. You need to eat. You need to sleep.”
    “I’m sorry, do you have two Ph.D.s? A residency at John Hopkins or a fellowship from Massachusetts General? No?” Her eyes narrowed and fire flared in them.
    “No. I have common sense, something you seem to lack. Now get up and head for the stairs. Food. Shower. Sleep. In that order.” He pointed a finger to the stairs and loomed over her. He understood the effect of size and of a firm glare.
    She shoved her chair back and stood up, breast to chest, glaring right back. Apparently no one informed her of how this was supposed to go. “I’m not one of your military puppets nor am I blinded by lust like Rory.”
    “She has nothing to do with this discussion. We need you sharp. We need you on your game.” He fought to soften his voice. But her breath huffed warmly against his lips and carried the scent of peppermint and coffee.
    “You need to let me work my way. I am on to something here. I need the time to decipher the layout from what I can read on the screens.” Her voice dropped, low, husky, and rough.
    “This isn’t going to save the world today, Ilsa.” He ceded one step back to her. He didn’t like how close she was. It wasn’t safe.
    “It doesn’t have to save the world today; it has to open a window that I can look into tomorrow or at least reveal the locks. Then I can work on how to unlock the window, or break the glass, whatever it takes to decipher how those chips work.” It was almost unholy how bright her hazel eyes gleamed, a red flush suffusing her face and her hands clenching open and closed.
    Scientists were a weird bunch. His gloved hands rasped against his face as he scratched at the reddish stubble. He needed to shave. “Two hours.”
    “What?”
    “Two hours. Enough time to eat, shower, and nap.” He folded his arms across his chest and stared her down.
    “Fine. Two hours.” She reached around him, almost brushing him to put her pen back on the table. “Not a second longer.”
    He didn’t quite control the flinch to back up another step. For a doctor aware of the danger, she acted pretty oblivious to it. She whirled away and stomped up the stairs. Garrett released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. She pushed him, ignored him, and amused him in turns.
    Glancing down at the sketch she’d doodled on the legal pad, he frowned. Electronics were not his specialty. The diagram, however, looked familiar.