<strong> Scientist, Carl Dodd </strong><br/><strong> Carl's Personal Suite </strong><br/><hr/><br/>Carl sighed... He was tired, but at least the nausea had subsided.  He unlocked the door to his private quarters, and stepped inside.  Just beyond the door, a white touch-screen was blinking the word "MESSAGES".  The touch-screens were located throughout the employee's area of the Fortress, and served as an intercom and messaging system.  They couldn't be used to contact the outside world though, with the exception of the Warden's and to a degree, his own.  Although the Warden could talk to anyone she wanted anytime she wanted, his "outside access" was limited to his father.<br/><br/>He touched the panel, and provided his fingerprint to authorize it.  It flashed up "HARD-COPY ONLY" and a piece of paper began to emerge from a slot below.  When it had completed printing, he took it, and walked with it into his bedroom.  He flopped down on the bed, and glanced at the pages.  The first one was correspondence from his father, and the second appeared to be a dossier.  It bore a photograph of face he recognized - one of the prisoners that he'd just watched being processed.  He frowned, and turned back to the first page and reluctantly, read the message his father's message.<br/><br/>The prisoner in question, one Kate Bartlett, was apparently a lawyer employed by Sinclair Components.  That was very odd.  A huge amount of money must have changed hands in order for her to have been sent here, to a Gen-Tech facility.  He wondered if Sinclair had any idea she was here.  His father's instructions made it very clear - her presence here was no accident.  Gen-Tech wanted information.  A corporate lawyer, regardless of her particular focus, was always informed of certain legal matters the company was involved in - that included patent filings and, more to Gen-Tech's interest, what kinds of drugs and products they were sending to the Health Directorate for approval.  Dad wanted to know what the competition was up to.<br/><br/>Carl sighed again.  Interrogations weren't his specialty.  He was never much interested in what the prisoners had to say, but more how their bodies responded to what he was doing, or giving them.  Conveniently, there was no specific time-limit mentioned in the message, just "get it done", so he had some time.  It wasn't open-ended though, dad would expect results, and if he didn't have something in a few weeks he was going to get another message...<br/><br/>He tossed both papers on the nightstand, and dimmed the lights.  It was going to be a long day, and he needed a nap before he could think straight about exactly what he needed to do to make sure his father was happy.  As long as he kept dad happy, dad stayed out of his affairs and and let him do what he wanted.  He needed to keep it that way...