Fragrance Part 3,
by Armond

Syd and Deirdre plot to trap the ‘GenTech Raper’ with a combination of scent and honey. Their plan works to perfection, unless …it was all a diversion?

  
Author's note: for a cleaner pdf version of this story, please click here

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Smell is surer than sight or sound. - Kipling

Fragrance

Part 3

THURSDAY 11:49 A.M., GENTECH BUILDING ‘A’, BIOGENETICS LAB ROOM 313

“Odor plume theory?”

What in God's name was our perky grad assistant yammering about? “No clue here, Mandy.”

“Oh, yeah, big debate in the field,” the red head continued. “One research camp says it's the bee's dance that gives directions to the nectar, while the other camp claims the dance is the bee's way of saying 'hey, look at me' so she can pass the nectar odor to the other workers, who follow the odor plume to the flower.”

I was starting to worry; if someone had struck up a conversation with me a month ago about GPS systems in bees, I would have yawned in her face. Now, this seemed interesting; was geekiness contagious?

“And you want to know if I can confirm this plume theory?”

When Amanda nodded, I thought a moment, and shrugged. “Plumes definitely exist everywhere…”

In my new body, my smell sense was so jazzed, I felt fragrant plumes battering me from all directions.

“…but that doesn't prove or disprove either camp's argument, does it?”

She blinked for several seconds, and smiled. “For all your blond flightiness, you are pretty bright, Syd.”

I had only been a blond-let me amend that, blond woman - for a few days, and already people thought I was ditsy? Jeez!

“Why thank you, Ms. Benedict. I value your opinion, and assume you no longer think I am immune to the Mad Cow Disease.”

Amanda furrowed her eyebrows. “Mad Cow Disease? I don't follow.”

“Didn't you know? Blonds are immune to MCD…”

When Amanda shot me a 'what the fuck' expression, I knew I had her.

“…because it only affects the brain.”

She tried not to, but her lips curled into a grin. Score! She shook her head, finished entering whatever data she was scribbling on her iPad, and glanced up.

“Fini. The last of your tests. All done,” Amanda announced to the room. Then she leaned closer and whispered, “I like you Syd, so some advice.”

I guessed what was coming, because everyone told me the same thing - 'quit screwing around, get back to school, and finish your degree,' or some variation on the theme. I braced for it.

“I heard you were going to Founder's Ball tonight with Deirdre. If I were you, I'd stay away from her. Carter too. They are evil.”

Evil? Okay, so, not the talk I figured.

“Like wicked evil? Or chocolate cake evil? Or-”

“Satan evil.”

Something had tickled my brain about Amanda all day and I finally pinned it down - she had no scent! How was that possible?

Wait, I detected a faint chemical odor masking her. I knew hunters sometimes doused themselves in a product to hide their human scent from their prey, but …why would Amanda need to do this? Could this have something to do with me?

“What they are doing goes against the laws of God,” Amanda continued, hissed more than whispered, “it is a sinful perversion of His creation.”

Deirdre walked into the lab, then, her eyes found mine, and she flashed a smile. My return smile was a reflex reaction.

“Sydney is finished, and is free to goof off for the rest of the day,” Amanda said in her chirpy voice. As she helped me up from the testing chair, she whispered, “last warning, get out while you can.”

Before I could blink a reaction, Alcina and the rest of the MASG team were applauding, and Deirdre was hustling me out the door. No way was I going to let this be my grand exit!

I stopped, whirled to face the group, and bowed.

“Thank you, thank you, and smell you all later.”

Deirdre pulled me through the door when I wouldn't stop blowing kisses. Once outside the lab, Deirdre latched onto my arm and led me down the hallway.

“You need a few things for tonight, so we get those first.”

“A few things? Umm ...like what?”

“Like …everything. Evening dress and high heels, your hair styled, and ears pierced to wear earrings I want on you.”

“Is all this really necessary? All I need to do is wander around enough to pick up the bastard's scent.”

“I explained this before; you have an incredible body and I want it on full display to lure him to you. And ...would it kill you to look pretty for me?”

I heard the ache in her words, but what could I do? She pulled me close one moment and pushed me away the next. So I resorted to my default sarcasm.

“Ah, well. If saving the world means shopping, I will suck it up and make the sacrifice. You're paying, right?”

THURSDAY 5:44 P.M. GENTECH BUILDING ‘A’, DEIRDRE ROGER'S FLAT

“Quit fiddling with your ears. Do they hurt?”

I shook my head and let my hand drop. “So weird.”

The reflection in the dressing table mirror mesmerized me: my golden hair was cut with uneven layering, giving it a full look. I wore a black silk bra, matching black silk bikini cut panties, and nothing else.

I know this sounds vain and narcissistic, but there was no getting around it, I'm gorgeous. I caught my hand again starting to travel to the unfamiliar weights hanging from my ears; black onyx stud earrings in each lobe.

“Deirdre? Back at the parlor ...you seemed very …possessive …about the way you wanted me to look.”

Deirdre was behind me with her hands on my shoulders. When I felt her hot breath on my ear, I shivered. “Mmmm. And I like what I see.”

Then the words spilled from my stupid mouth before I could stop them.

“Are you always this controlling in your relationships? If you ask me, you're a bit over the top and need to dial it back.”

Deirdre stiffened and pulled away. “Since you disappear after tomorrow, do me a favor and keep your idiot advice to yourself.”

“I'm …sorry, I didn't mean anything by-”

“-And who asked you, anyway? The person who never committed to anyone in his life? Never accomplished shit in his life?”

Bi-polar much? God, what was wrong with her? I turned away so she wouldn't see how badly her words had hurt.

“Yeah …okay …I get it.” Despite my best efforts, my eyes teared. “I'm your blood hound; nothing more. I'll do my part, don't worry, Dr. Rogers.”

“Oh Sydney,” Deirdre took my face in her hands, “I'm so sorry I said that, I-”

I pushed her hands away. “-Let's get this over with, shall we?”

“Did you know I was the first person to receive Julia's gene alteration procedure?”

“Eh? What?” The non-sequitur confused me and momentarily stopped the emotional waterworks.

“I was the first. I was diagnosed with muscular dystrophy when I was five. By 10, I could only walk with braces, and by 12, I was strapped into a wheelchair for good. 25 is the 'use by' date for people with DMD, so when I turned 28, I was beating the odds -yea me!- but I also was developing severe lung disorders, and probably wouldn't reach 29. That was when Julia offered me my golden ticket to the GAP chamber.”

“Oh ...I had no idea...” I still wasn't connecting the dots on why I was getting this speech, though it did reinforce my view that Julia was downright awesome.

“Hang with me awhile on this. Imagine a geeky wheelchair science nerd who had never been on a date suddenly being given a new life looking like this.”

Deirdre gestured to the body I continued to process as 'Kate Beckinsale clone'. “So ...big adjustment?”

“I would hazard to say mine was bigger than yours. Before my conversion, I was female in the technical sense, but I was so asexual, I might as well have been a bowling ball. After my treatment, I was suddenly popular, desirable. I had zero social skills; through a series of tragic-comic relationships, I discovered I was a lesbian; who knew?”

I figured she was right; her change sounded harder. 'Sidney' had always been popular; with my easy manner, I never had a problem in social settings or making friends.

“Last year, I stumbled into my first real relationship with Anne, from Product Development. I was crazy mad for her, and she introduced me to ... so many things: fashion, life outside work, mmm, kinky sex. For the first time in my life, I was living! But where I wanted something permanent, she ...did not. You've seen me in action the past few days, so I'm sure you would agree I have OCD issues. The more I tried to control the situation, the worse it got, until she ran -literally- from me. She left GenTech and moved to the east coast.”

“God, Deirdre, I'm sorry you-”

“-Wait! Hold the pity for a moment; I'm getting to my little sob tale's punch line. After she left I shut off my emotions again and buried myself in work. Then you waltz in, and I start having the same feelings again, only worse, because tomorrow you become a completely different person -she tapped my countdown watch- and to protect myself...”

Ah! The light bulb clicked on. “-You've been swinging between nice and nasty?”

“I was going to say hot and cold,” Deirdre answered. “Hot because your hot little body spins my spokes, and cold because I realize I'm falling for you and reflexively try to pull away.”

I sat for several moments processing that. “You're ...falling for me?”

When Deirdre slowly nodded, my eyes turned wet again. “I feel the same ...SHIT! I'm crying again! What are we going to do?”

Deirdre let out a heavy sigh. “Nothing. Pretend tomorrow doesn't exist. Do our job tonight. If you do, I'll reward you with …what did you say the other night? You wanted a night to remember? Still game?”

“Yeah ...hell yeah...” I whispered.

Deirdre ran her fingers over my bra, and then -oooo- pinched my nipple. “So, apology accepted?”

“Yes ma'am!”

“Now, let's try to salvage your mascara, and then it's my turn to attempt to look half as beautiful as you.”

When Deirdre finished with my makeup, she scooched me out of her makeup chair. “Walk around to get used to those heels; I do not want you doing a face plant.”

A real possibility, as I was wearing black leather 'T' strap sandals with three-inch heels. Which I thought my feet looked ultra cool in, potential face plants notwithstanding.

“How 'bout I put my dress on now too,” I asked as I tottered around.

“Absolutely not,” Deirdre said, as she applied base. From the glint in her eye, I gathered she didn't feel the slightest guilt twinge making me parade around in undergarments.

“Let's talk about tonight; how will you find the scent of one man with so many around?”

“I'm not sure if I can put this in words; I've never had to describe it to anyone.” I was walking back and forth, becoming steadier.

“Don't lean forward so much,” Deirdre said. “Try to tell me; I need to figure out the best way to work the party.”

“Hey, this isn't so bad.” I tried to spin then, with disastrous results. “Oops! We aren't going to be dancing are we?”

“Yeah, we'll tango, fox trot, and as your finale, you'll flamenco to the Gypsy Kings,” Deirdre said. “Please! No dancing for you; you'd be an ostrich on ice. How close do you need to be, to pick up the scent?”

“Don't worry, I don't have to sniff anyone's butt; I guess I need to get within thirty feet of the person or so...”

“Sorry,” Deirdre said, grinning. “That didn't come out right; I really am using you like a blood hound, aren't I?”

I let out a long aawwooooo. “Your dawg is getting cold here; can I please put on some clothes?”

“Go on; you seem awfully excited about wearing a dress.”

“I am, actually; I haven't had many opportunities, I was Bo Peep for a costume party once, and wore a kimono for a day when I lost a bet, but that's it.”

I slithered into my new licorice lace strapless dress, and was gazing at my reflection over Deirdre' shoulder, when a feeling came over me. Wistful. Sad.

“What's wrong?”

“I don't know, I …like the way this looks, the way I …am.” I sighed. I was mixed up inside, and hadn't a clue why.

Deirdre stood and gave me a hug, and then she went to her closet to put on black silk Versace pants suit. When she returned? Yes, I was ogling the dark haired woman, and why not? Her pants cling to her in all the right places. Then a thought hit me.

“Hey! What gives?”

“What? You don't like?” Deirdre smiled.

She knew I did like; I was practically drooling. But why was she in long pants, while my dress barely made it to my thighs?

“I'm flashing skin and you get to wear that? Why?”

"Simple. Slight of hand diversion. First, I have to wear a jacket to conceal my holster for this baby." Deirdre held up a black pistol. "It's a tranquilizer air pistol, loaded with darts that would drop a rhino."

I stared at the dark gleaming piece of metal in her hand, and remembered Styles' snide remark about her playing security chief. Was she in over her head?

“Don't take this the wrong way, but what do you know about,” I waved my hand at her gun, “spy stuff?”

“No offense taken. Julia learned fast not to trust Styles, or anyone not involved with GAP, so for the past two years she's been sending me to 'academic lectures and seminars', which were really private security training courses. Hand-to-hand combat, surveillance, firearm proficiency, and a month long kick-your-ass immersion course. Amazing what is available if you have the money. In turn, I've trained other scientists -the younger fitter ones- so that we have our security force. But, yes, you should be worried; we're amateurs. We've only had to deal with something like this two or three times.”

“Wow! So you're like a female Jason Bourne with a PhD in biogenetics?” I tried to imagine that combination - terminate the rogue genome with extreme prejudice!- and couldn't. “Okay, so …why not use a real gun? I really wouldn't mind if someone shot this bastard.”

“Don't worry, we have other plans for Mr. Rapist; much better than a slug or two of lead. To your point about why you are wearing your fetching outfit -aside from the fact I love you in it- is, all eyes will be on you, and not me.”

“I disagree. You are dangerous hot in your sleek number; everyone will slobber over you like I am.”

“You may be right. Hmmm, how will we fix this? I know! Strip; you'll go in naked.”

“You're …kidding, right?”

“Yeah …I am.” Deirdre sighed as her eyes roamed up and down my body. “God how I wish I weren't.”

6:30P.M., GENTECH CAMPUS GROUNDS, FOUNDER'S DAY BALL

I'm freezing!

Even though spring officially arrived several weeks ago, the sea breeze made the evening brisk, and I made sure to spend as much time as I could under the glowing open air heaters. There were plenty to choose from; the thirty or so heaters marked the circle boundary of the Founder's Day Ball, which sprawled across the green field between Buildings F and G. In a way, the heaters gave the affair a romantic feel, the orange they glowed nearly matching the sunset.

“C'mon, Sydney, peel yourself away from the heaters,” Deirdre growled. “You are supposed to be working the crowd to pick up scents.”

I sighed. Deirdre was right of course, and to my smell sense, the fuel from the heater I 'clutched' was overpowering.

“How do women do it?” I grumbled, as I trailed her back into the party. The band, 'Innocence Mission' had begun a second set, and a lead guitar solo was echoing off 'Lake GenTech'.

“Do what?” Deirdre asked.

“Not have perpetual cases of hypothermia! This is insane!”

Deirdre couldn't keep the smug grin off her face. Between the cold and my heels drilling into the damp spring grass, she was deriving perverse pleasure from my female fashion lesson.

“Quit whining. You look marvelous.”

“Thank you.” I felt the blush rise in my face, despite the cold. Then I remembered my Billy Crystal from his SNL bits and wondered if that was what she meant.

A question occurred to me that I should have asked hours ago. “When we find this guy, what happens next? I mean, is he operating alone? Or are there others?”

She gently grabbed my arm. “I won't lie to you Syd; this is dangerous. It's not bloody likely he's working alone. Someone on the inside of 'A' IDed Lauren and Kara …and you …as targets. If we can catch the attacker maybe we can get him to reveal who it is. If we ask really nice.”

Talk of inside spies caused my cryptic chat with Amanda to come back to me, and I relayed the exchange to Deirdre.

“She warned you to get out? I wish you'd mentioned that tidbit earlier.”

I felt the heat rise again in my face; this time from my stupidity. Maybe I was a ditsy blond after all.

“I'm so sorry Deirdre, I meant to but-”

“-You had a controlling bitch-scientist steal you away for a whirlwind shopping spree. No sweat, sweetie, this one is on me.”

Deirdre tapped her earpiece -Earpiece? When did she put that on? Maybe she was good at this spy stuff- and said, “Sarah? I need you to dig into the background of Amanda Benedict from the MASG group …confirmed …treat her as a …person of interest.”

Deirdre scanned the crowd of GenTech partiers. “Are you picking anything up?”

In fact, I was picking up everything. I'd been scared all the individual scents would merge in the crowd, but they hadn't. I could identify each person within a thirty yard radius! If there weren't several thousand GenTech partiers around me, my range would have been much farther, bordering on a canine range. On cue, Elvis began crooning 'You ain't nothin' but a Hound Dog' in my mind.

“Nothing yet. I-”

A young woman dressed in tight black jeans and latex pink corset jumped in front of me. Her ears and eyebrows held numerous piercings, and a small but conspicuous silver ring hung from her nose. I had a feeling Astra always made an entrance.

“-Hey! Nose Girl! Deirdre was right; you are hot.”

“Hot? Hot??!! I'm freeeezing, Nose Ring Girl.”

Deirdre stepped between us. “I don't believe you two were introduced in our meeting yesterday...”

I guessed this was true; Astra jumped right to calling me Nose Girl without any formal introduction.

“…Sydney, this is Astra Steven. Astra, Sydney Edwards. Astra is perhaps the most brilliant geneticist at GenTech.”

“Perhaps? I am the most brilliant,” she said, “except maybe for Julia.”

Astra grinned and stuck out her hand, which I shook vigorously.

“This so-called 'party' is dull and filled with creepy old people,” Astra said, drawing close. “Any thoughts on how to loosen them up?”

“Well, if it were me…” an idea of purest evil bubble up in my mind. “…I'd get a hold of the mike, and announce a $10,000 raffle. To enter, you have to leave an autographed pair of your underwear …or panties or whatever …in front of the cutie boy singer.”

Astra raised an eyebrow to Deirdre. “Now that is true genius!”

Deirdre slapped the palm of her hand to her forehead. “So this is why Julia wanted to keep you two apart, you are both operating on a 3rd grade maturity level. Time to move, Nose Girl, you've got lots more smells to process.”

Astra's face turned serious. “I hope you nail the bastard. You can really track him from his scent?”

“Her sense of smell is so developed that each person has a unique scent,” Deirdre answered.

“Fascinating!” Astra said. “What does our rapist smell like?”

White anger jolted through me. “Like shit!”

“What she means,” Deirdre quickly explained, “is she assigns a short hand descriptor to avoid having to recite the full LM scale description.”

“Ah, good, because, 'shit' seemed a mite general,” Astra said.

“So you know, I can differentiate over twenty different 'shit' scents.” After the 'eewws' cross their faces, I added, “pretty shitty, huh?”

“What do I smell like,” Astra asked.

I closed her eyes, took in a deep breath, and smiled. “Licorice. Black licorice.”

Astra laughed. “And Deirdre? What scent does she give you?”

I started to speak, but Deirdre put a finger over my lips. “That's …private. Let's go, Sydney; later, Astra.”

Astra's hand shot out to grab Deirdre. “This fucker's dangerous, and if he knows she can ID him, there's no telling what he might do. I like Nose Girl. A lot. So you take care of her, Ms. Spock.”

“I will,” Deirdre answered softly, “because I like her too…”

Astra's eyes danced from Deirdre to me, and her eyebrow arched.

"Oh, it's more than like, Ms. Spock, a whole lot more. You've got it bad.”

7:25 P.M., GENTECH CAMPUS GROUNDS, FOUNDER'S DAY BALL

The scent came strongly, even through the jumbled aroma of the party. I closed my eyes and turned in a circle, trying to get a direction.

“You've got something?” Deirdre asked, her voice excited.

“Yes,” I answered, and opened my eyes. “That way.”

When Deirdre followed my sightline toward the nacho buffet line, I said, “behind the buffet, where those people are mingling.”

Deirdre tapped her earpiece again. “Sarah, did you copy? Okay ...tell the EMT team 'green light'; we're heading over.”

“S-so ...what do we do?” I felt my knees shake a little.

Deirdre took my hand and squeezed. “Relax, love. I'll drop him, and a couple of EMTs -who happen to be nearby, funny, that- will whisk him away …to the GAP lab, for, uh, processing. Or is it ...rehabilitation? All you do is point him out. I won't let anything happen to you. Can you do this?”

I felt my shoulders relax. “Yeah.”

Deirdre pulled her pistol from its holster and held it inside her jacket. “Slowly walk to the nacho line and act like you're hungry.”

“Hungry? Are you kidding? I'm scared shitless ...and …and …aw crap! ...can you smell it? They used cheese whiz for the cheese!”

Deirdre laughed. “This superpower of yours; it's really a curse, isn't it?”

I gave a solemn nod. “You cannot imagine the true horror of cheese whiz.”

As we approached the line, I zeroed in on the target: a man dressed in khakis and yellow polo shirt, several yards beyond the buffet line, was sipping a beer; he seemed to be scanning the crowd. I hoped I'd have some recognition of his appearance, but I didn't; whatever he had done to me had truly fucked my visual memory.

I didn't need it; his scent screamed to me. I quickly turned my back to him.

“Him,” I whispered to Deirdre. “Yellow shirt. Goatee. That's the bastard.”

“I bet he remembers you, too. He will especially like your outfit tonight. Wait here for fifteen seconds and walk casually across his line of sight. He'll never see me coming.” Deirdre touched her earpiece. “We are live.”

I counted to fifteen while Deirdre angled off into the crowd. Then, I turned and slowly walked parallel to where he stood. I felt his eyes on me and the smell of musk was strong, which meant the fucker was getting aroused. Memory of my assault flooded back and I fought the urge to bolt. Then, the musk smell dissipated and I no longer felt his stare.

Deirdre's yell cut through the party noise. “OH MY GOD!!! This man is having a heart attack! Someone call a doctor!”

I dared to turn, and saw Deirdre kneeling beside a prone figure. A crowd quickly formed and a cart bearing EMTs magically appeared. Soon, they were lowering a gurney and wheeling it to where he lay.

The take down happened so quickly it seemed anticlimactic. But what a relief! A kind of euphoria filled me, and I wanted to find Julia and report the success.

The party crowd was well into the thousands now, and I had no idea where to turn. So I closed my eyes, breathed in, and slowly spun in a circle.

When I caught the scent of cinnamon, I opened my eyes, and found Julia and Alcina, standing near the seafood line. Something was wrong though; where everyone else was either looking or wandering over to where the EMTs were working, Julia and Alcina were headed in the opposite direction - they were backing away from the food line with Amanda and several men. My breath caught when I recognized Richard Styles was one of them. Amanda and the men seemed to be herding Julia and Alcina somewhere.

What the hell was going on? Where were they going?

I took a deep breath …and smelled fear from Alcina.

Julia? My reading of her was crystal clear - she wanted to kill someone.

I spotted Astra and bolted to her, waving her down.

“Hey, Syd, what's up? Does the crowd around Deirdre mean what I think? Did you ID the prick?”

“Yeah, we got him, but listen, something's wrong. Julia and Alcina just left with Amanda and the dickhead security guy. They didn't want to though; Julia was royally pissed; and Alcina was terrified.”

“Styles? Shit! And Amanda Benedict you say? I wonder if the rapist was a diversion to get to Julia. You're certain she didn't want to go with them.”

“Absolutely. She was pissed."

“Holy fuck, we've got to stop them! If something happens to Julia, Project Y is screwed! And if Y is screwed, we're-

“- toast.” Yeah, I get that. Go warn Deirdre, tell her to bring her troops, girls or whatever. 'I'll track them.”

“How?”

I pointed to my nose.

“Ah! Brilliant,” Astra said. “And how will we follow you?”

“I ...hadn't thought of that.”

Astra rolled her eyes, and unclasped one of the rings from an eyebrow. “Here. It has an embedded tracking device. Wearing this was the only way Deirdre would let me go into San Francisco without a bodyguard.”

“Um…” I looked down at my dress and the truth hit me; no pockets. “Where will I put it?”

“And you only have the ear piercings, huh? Rookie.” She unclasped one of my studs and replaced it with the smaller ring. Then she stared into my eyes.

“Can I talk you out of this? Let's both go get Deirdre. We don't know anything about these guys; they could be killers.”

I shook my head. Yes, I was scared, but if I waited around any longer, I'd explode. “It's Jules, Astra. She's in trouble! She needs me!”

Astra threw up her hands. “Fine. Go. But just get near them! Stay out of sight, do you hear me? Don't do anything until Deirdre and her team arrive, unless in your male life you were a kick-ass kung fu master or you can sniff people into unconsciousness with your nose.”

“Um, nope, guess I'll rely on my killer wit.”

“Then we are well and truly screwed,” Astra said with a grin.

I shook my heels off my feet and handed them to Astra; no way was I going to chase after baddies in those puppies.

She grabbed my arm with her free hand. “Be careful, okay? I mean it, Syd.”

“I will,” I nodded, and watched Astra take off in a sprint toward Deirdre, thinking the young scientist's pink Keds high tops were being put to good use at last. Then I turned, took a deep breath…

…and followed the smell of cinnamon.

End Part 3

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