In Her Image

By Dennis Kent Allen

Dr. Dale McCowan is comfortable in his secluded corner of huge Hunter Scientific, Inc., until his calm, family-centered life is troubled by an impromptu interview with Assistant Vice President Janet Hunter. The unsettling meeting is only the beginning. Janet begins to intrude on Dales quiet existence. Confused, Dale is intimidated into working on a mysterious project that not only frightens him, but separates him from his beloved family. Isolated and subjected to insidious tricks to force his total cooperation, Dale tries to find a way back home. Desperate to end his enslavement, Dale befriends a fellow disgruntled worker. Together they try to end their forced servitude. When the alliance is disclosed, Dale finds himself in deeper peril and in tighter controls. Worse, he discovers he has become an important part of a project as immoral as it is illegal. Horrified, he uncovers the grisly details of a murderous conspiracy that forever silences those who know too much. Helplessly, Dale slides down into a dark cave of terror. Can he work out a plan of escape and redemption? Is he able to accomplish the quixotic impossible? Will innocence be protected? Can justice be served?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 4, 2003
• ISBN: 9781410721471

Dennis Kent Allen

Dennis Kent Allen is a retired military officer now on staff with a major university. His broad experiences range from military postal inspector to ICBM commander to college business manager. He has lived and traveled in Europe, Asia and the South Pacific. Along the way Dennis picked up German, Italian and some French to spice up his vocabulary. For entertainment, Dennis plays reeds in a nineteen-piece swing orchestra for which he also composes and arranges. In Her Image is Dennis’s fourth book. Another thriller/mystery, Dark Academy, will soon be published. Dennis and his wife Linda have raised five children and now live in a small community in the West, surrounded by scenic beauty and kind friends.

Book preview

Chapter 1

This shouldn’t take very long, Dr. McCowan. Thank you for being on time.

Dale McCowan wondered why he was there. After all, it wasn’t normal for a common worker to be called up to the executive conference room for an interview. Was he about to be fired? If so, for what?

The woman closed the door with authority, turned and motioned for him to sit in an executive chair at the long, oak table. He watched her walk over to the other side. She moved with confidence that flirted with arrogance.

After taking a seat directly across, she studied him - a sculptor surveying her subject before working the soft clay. He looked back.

Her face was a contrast of youth and age, of recklessness and dignity. Though neat and expensively dressed, she was no fashion model and probably never was very pretty. Now a few wrinkles sliced across her tanned face. Her chin jutted out from the rest of her facial features. Though her nose wasn’t long, it curved down and widened more than usual at the base.

The woman’s hard visage clashed against the soft background of a turquoise dress with a pink rose embroidered on the right shoulder. The neckline was low, pulling Dale’s eyes down, away from the woman’s face.

Dr. McCowan, how long have you worked for our company?

Her voice flowed cool and sweet, like lemonade with ice and sugar. Yet there was still some bite in the flavor. The natural acid hadn’t all been neutralized.

Let’s see, Ma’am-

Please call me Janet.

Her interruption wasn’t a request, it was a command.

As uneasy as Dale was when he entered the room, the tension seemed to grow like a spring fungus. He sensed that the woman knew the answers to most of her questions before she asked them.

Well, uh, I started out with Iowa Technical Supply twelve years ago, just before Hunter Scientific bought them out.

Twelve years? Let’s see, that would be about when you graduated from Stanford with a PhD in Genetics, right?

Yes, Ma’am, I mean, Janet. This was my first real job.

Well, Dale, your contributions and loyalty to this company have not gone unnoticed.

At that moment somewhere inside the lanky man’s brain, shots were fired. Sporadic, guerilla warfare had begun. What the woman was saying and what he was feeling were sniping at each other.

Dale had been at the same job all those twelve years. The two inventions he had created were claimed by an unscrupulous supervisor. Dale had registered the patents, but had to do so under the company’s name. Yet he hadn’t been promoted and his pay raises were only average.

Putting in extra hours to make the company more profit didn’t pay off. Besides, he’d been too busy filling orders. The portable DNA Matching Kit idea was over four years old. The self-contained, forensic Anti-Body Profiling Kits were put on the market over six years back.

Mentally scratching his balding blond scalp, he again wondered why he was there. Others in his department had been there longer and had played the political game much better. They didn’t get a phone call with an invitation to speak with an Assistant Vice President.

… and we’d like to get your opinion on some concepts we are exploring for Hunter Scientific.

Oh?

Yes, Dale. I think you’ll find these research topics exciting. They involve, well, I don’t want to show my ignorance in front of such a gifted scholar, but they are about genetics. Would you like to get back into research and development?

The flattery aside, she was saying what he wanted to hear but not without an aura of control.

Well ... yes.

Good. I can’t imagine that pushing out those ABP and DNA kits for police departments is much of a test for a man of your intellectual capacity.

It wasn’t, and she was reading him with the agility of an experienced court recorder.

Oh, I don’t mind the repetition. It keeps me-

Somewhat occupied, I imagine, but certainly not challenged.

Her interruptions added to Dale’s anxiety and to her firm control of the conversation.

Thank you for being polite, Dale. We both know that you have more potential than this company has allowed you to develop.

She smiled and with her left index finger she tapped her own left temple three times, then pointed to his head and cadenced her finger with her words.

I want to open up that gold mine. I want to see what you can really do for yourself and, of course, for the company.

This isn’t what I expected when your, uh, assistant called.

She smiled. I wanted you to be surprised. I like seeing the reaction of my employees when I can give them good news. But Dale, I need you to be discrete. We can’t have too many people knowing what we’re up to. The competition is fierce out there. Are you willing to keep our little secret?

Janet, I don’t know any company secrets.

You know at least one, Dale. As you get into the research I have in mind, I will gradually trust you with more. As you progress, you will be told what you need to know when you need to know it.

All right, I won’t say anything to anyone, except to Emily, my wife.

Hunter smiled and said nothing, but her eyes spoke rebuke. Finally, she used her voice.

Mr. Hunter, that really isn’t necessary.

I can’t tell my wife?

The woman lowered her head. Then she raised just her deep-set eyes to look at him under her pencil-thin eyebrows.

"Mr. McCowan, wives sometimes are not careful about what they say, especially when they want to brag about their husbands’ careers. If our competitors found out that I was pulling together the brightest and the best in this company for a special project, they’d stop at nothing to find out what that was.

For now, I won’t even tell you the name I’ve given our little undertaking and I certainly won’t answer any questions about it. What’s more, you shouldn’t tell anyone, even those you think you can trust, about our little chat today. It would really affect my opinion of you.

Dale didn’t consider himself to be the brightest and the best, and up until now, Hunter Scientific hadn’t either. He also noticed that the Vice President only used I and not we when she talked about the company.

But you haven’t told me anything about the project.

She stung him again with her eyes.

And I won’t until I’m absolutely certain about your loyalty and your confidentiality.

I see. So what do you want me to do?

Wait. The voice didn’t ask, again it commanded.

The silence that followed was pounded into his brain by her eyes - dark, cold, the color of her dyed hair. Finally, he blinked.

Wait? For what?

For me to contact you again.

Uh, all right. My boss will probably ask what went on here. He knows I was called up for some kind of interview.

The implied question carried with it a little insolence that made her close her mouth, widen her eyes and flare her nose.

If you have to tell him anything, she spouted, you can tell him that it was a survey interview about company policies and that your answers were to be held in strictest confidence.

He, uh, might think I’m jumping channels, going over his head to complain about something.

Then tell him to call me, but if he does, I will be very annoyed. Your instructions, Mr. McCowan, are to say nothing to anyone about research. Don’t even use the word.

Her voice was low and steady, pushing itself like a worm through his ears and into his brain.

The word ‘research’?

Right. And now, do you agree?

Well, I don’t really like-

She stopped him in mid-sentence with her stare.

Stretching her lips she cadenced her words. I don’t see how we can trust you to do cutting-edge experimentation if you can’t follow instructions, Mr. McCowan.

Dale lowered his head in submission. He noticed that when she needed to be dominant and forceful, she called him Mister, not Doctor or Dale.

All right, he conceded.

She relaxed, settling back into the comfortable chair and smiled at him again.

It’s nice to have you completely committed to our team, Dale. I look forward to our next meeting.

It was his cue to stand. He wasn’t certain about a handshake and haltingly raised his arm until she decidedly offered her own hand. When he took the firm grip, he felt energy flow from his soul to hers. She had stolen a small part of him. He sensed there would be more to come, and more of himself to give.

Chapter 2

That was it. The interview shouldn’t have been so unnerving. For all Dale knew, the project might be a great opportunity.

It was after clock-out time, but he needed to go back to the lab. He hoped he wouldn’t see his supervisor. If talking to him could be delayed, then maybe Dale wouldn’t have to lie.

Back at his work place, it took him a moment to locate his keys. When he finally did, they were not in the place where he’d remembered putting them.

He hurried out to the parking lot and reached the comfort and safety of his car without having to speak to anyone. At the turning on of the automobile’s motor, he slipped into the twelve-year-old commuting pattern that had been etched into his cerebral stone of habits.

The interview plagued him. On the face of it, there really wasn’t much of concern. Research was research, and unless it involved weaponry or security, there was nothing particularly secret about doing it. So why couldn’t he even mention the word or anything about the interview?

He wanted to talk to Emily about it, but he’d given his word. It was important for Dale’s own inner peace that he keep his promises.

Except that his inner peace wasn’t so placid. The sniper war inside his head was still on-going. And now it was being fought over turbulent water – eddy after eddy stirred by the whirlwinds of intrigue and secrecy. Perhaps he could come up with a plan of his own.

As he drove home, he wondered what he would tell Emily. He’d never kept anything from her before. He told her everything about what he was doing. Dale tried to explain a little about his work, even though he considered it complicated and boring. He thought it was important that she understood what he did to support his family.

The garage door rolled upward and Dale eased the car into the closure. He touched the control button again and the door closed, cutting off the fading sunlight.

He could smell cooked fish as soon as he entered the kitchen. Baked salmon with rice pilaf was his favorite. Perhaps his wife had been somehow prompted to prepare them for him. That thought, along with being home, lightened his stress. His wife turned and smiled as he approached to kiss her.

I love you, Emily. You’re the prettiest girl in town.

He didn’t know if she liked him saying that so much – almost every day. Sometimes it sounded corny to him, like Ward Cleaver coming home to June, Wally and the Beaver. Yet, she had never asked him to stop. He would have, just on a hint from her alone. And though it had become a ritual, there was still meaning to it.

Sitting around the supper table was when Dale normally paid attention to his wife and his children.

Dale, didn’t you hear John?

He hadn’t.

Uh, no, I’m sorry. What did you say, John?

The magical moment had passed when Dale could have responded with excitement to his youngest child’s proud declaration.

I got a hunnert’ percent on my spellin’ test today, the boy repeated with a soft voice and a low head.

The father responded with feigned enthusiasm. If he had heard his son the first time, there would be no need to fake it.

That’s wonderful, John. I’m very proud of you.

Dale glanced to his wife. He saw concern and disappointment.

Until the meal was over, the man of the house resumed his role, but he’d already betrayed his preoccupation. At the end, he excused himself to the downstairs music room.

Haunting strains of a jazz standard called Laura soon filled the room. Laura was his mother’s song. It was also her name. She never knew all the words, but her sweet, alto voice swept over the notes exactly on rhythm and on key.

His mother knew other songs, of course – hymns, mostly. When she was singing or humming Laura, though, it meant that she was secure and confident enough to give comfort to a small boy – her only son after four daughters.

The music room was cut off from the rest of the house by thick insulation and double-pane doors. It was where the man went when he needed to be alone. The room and the piano seemed to level out his ups and downs. Tonight he would be there a little longer than usual.

Emily and the children wouldn’t bother him there. They were thoughtful enough not to disturb him when he was playing. Along with centering his emotions, the baby grand seemed to release his thoughts – a flood-gate of moods and ideas kept open by the flow of his music. Laura would do that as only the mystical woman could from inside the wistful music and the surreal lyrics.

His mind turned back to the main event of the now-expired day. The plaguing interview wasn’t that strange or unnatural. Dale couldn’t understand why he was so upset. Perhaps if he carefully reviewed step-by-step what had happened today, he could settle his tortured karma and troubled psyche.

Sometimes as Dale struggled with a problem at work or at home, he would think of a vague solution and the scattered pieces of the puzzle would fall into place on their own. It seemed to work well when he was sitting at the piano. Janet Hunter wanted him to do research on some mysterious project she wouldn’t yet disclose. Research?

That’s exactly what he would do, research on the company, and especially on the interviewer. Only he had to be, what was that word she used? Oh, yes, discreet. He couldn’t get caught checking out an Assistant Vice President. He might lose his job over that. However, there were some things he could do and he could start tonight. It had to be a little later, after the soothing tones of the music had finished calming his spirit.

There were more white-capped waves in his emotional sea that needed to subside. He would stay with his piano and his music until the water was smooth and calm and he could sail back to his wife and children. For now, for just a little while longer, there would be more music. Then he would go upstairs, tell his family Good night, and escape again, this time in the family room to another non-human friend, a computer.

Chapter 3

Emily was waiting in the easy chair. The television was turned on but it was clear that she wasn’t interested in it.

As he passed by, she didn’t look up. Yet in a whisper that was barely loud enough for him to hear she asked, What’s wrong, Dale?

He paused to measure his own response.

I’m sorry, Emily, I can’t tell you.

Dear, we’ve been married a long time. You’ve never kept anything from me.

Dale sighed, then turned his head to face her. She looked up at him. There were tears.

I’m sorry, Honey. I gave my word I wouldn’t say anything.

It was now another woman – his wife who studied him, trying to understand, but remaining perplexed at his words and his mood.

He dropped to a crouch, took her hand and stroked it gently.

Something happened today. I’m really not quite sure what, but even though it seemed innocent enough, it upset me. I promised I wouldn’t discuss it with anyone. She told me – Emily, I’m sorry. I can only say that I had an interview.

Now his wife smiled and used her other hand to tickle his knee.

You’re a good worker, Dale, honest, dependable. They’re not going to fire you.

Well, that’s what I thought was going to happen at first, he smiled. But it was something else.

Now they both paused, expressing again their deep-rooted love for each other by the tenderness of their touch.

I need to do some research on the internet tonight, Emily. After I say ‘Good night’ to the kids, I’m going to be on the computer for awhile. Go on to bed. I’ll be there before midnight. I promise.

Dale pushed up his tall, thin frame with a thrust of his legs, squeezed his wife’s hand one more time then let go and walked away.

He carefully turned the knob and pushed open the door to John’s room. The little boy squeezed his eyes shut. Dale went in and sat on the side of his bed. He reached out and brushed the small one’s cheek.

Hi, John. I’d like to know what the words were you had to spell today. Were they hard? Can you remember them?

John opened his eyes, turned his head, smiled at his father and slid up against his pillow.

I can remember the hardest one. It was ‘image.’

Tonight Dale talked with his son a little longer than usual. Both smiled as he left the room.

Next, he knocked on the girls’ room door, opened it and peeked inside.

Are you young ladies doing OK? he asked.

We’re fine, Loreen answered for both of them.

Would you like a bedtime story or be tucked in? he teased.

Don’t you think we’re a little too old for that?

Dale only smiled his reply, then bowed as if in the presence of royalty.

Good night, sweet princesses.

He turned and left the room. It was time to turn on the computer.

Lately, Dale had no desire to study the character of Hunter Scientific. He knew the company manufactured, procured or gathered scientific equipment, supplies and specimens for medicine, education and research, but not much beyond that.

For years, Dale had been in his own little corner of the corporation, just doing his job and getting paid for it. That’s really all he wanted, or at least was resigned to accept.

Six years ago, the firm had branched out into forensics. That was when Dale’s Anti-Body Profiling kits were introduced. They could be used to identify possible suspects immediately at the scene of the crime. Two years later, McCowan had found a faster and cheaper way to complete DNA comparisons, again right at the crime scene.

The two kits had made the identification process easy. They were self-contained and the quality control was so tight that even rookie police officers with very little training could produce extremely accurate results.

As far as the bureaucracy and politics of the company were concerned, McCowan wanted little to do with them. He had seldom ventured outside of his immediate work and research space. Since he had no intention of climbing the corporate ladder, there was no need for self-promotion. Aside from filling orders for his products, this was the first time in weeks Dale had taken a in-depth look at Hunter Scientific.

The colorful, active screen was clearly geared to convincing a potential buyer that there was no better place to shop.

Dale clicked on the word Catalog. Maybe the products the company offered would give clues to what he had been asked to research.

The cyber-pages displayed all kinds of technical and electronic testing and measuring devices from weight scales to microscopes to spectrographs. He searched for his own products and found the visual displays enticing. The web master had done well.

One section contained glass of all shapes, sizes and chemical make-up – flasks, pipettes, tubes, etc. And if you didn’t see what you wanted, just draw the glassware on a computer-aided design system provided on-line and they would make it for you.

Another part contained chemicals of all kinds. Many were labeled as controlled or hazardous materials with special instructions. Only those institutions with particular licenses were authorized buyers.

There was more, much more, but the part that caught Dale’s attention was the one entitled Specimens. Animals and plants could be purchased live or preserved in death depending on the species. The more rare and advanced on the evolutionary scale, the more expensive. Even chimpanzees were available if the price could be paid.

Up to ten specimens each in certain rodent classes were offered as clones – exact copies from a single cell. These were very expensive as a group. Dale thought they were produced for top-line, final-phase researchers who must eliminate as many variables as possible.

The customer’s conclusion wasn’t hard to reach. Hunter Scientific was a huge company with massive manufacturing and procuring capabilities.

All of that was interesting, but Dale needed information about the people who ran the company, especially Janet Hunter. Dale clicked back to the Hunter home web page.

There was a button bar entitled Management. He knew that executives who ran companies as huge as Hunter had egos almost as big. They wanted people – employees and outsiders as well – to recognize them and how important they were.

The top name and face that came up was Hollis Savage. Dale recalled