Read Online Catnip by J.S. Frankel - Free Book Online Page A

agent cleared his throat and looked at Harry. Harry had no idea
of what to say, but he did feel sorry for the girl. Whatever she’d
done, clearly it wasn’t her fault. Of that, he was sure. He took a
seat beside her and placed his hands in his lap, not knowing what
else to do with them.
    As a peace offering, Farrell asked her if she
wanted something to eat. “You got any hamburgers?” she asked.
“Cooked ones, okay?” Then she nudged Harry with her elbow. “What do
you want?”
    He couldn’t think of a thing for a few
seconds. Fumbling for a response, he pulled the words “hot
chocolate” out of his head.
    Anastasia nodded her head. “You have good
taste.”
    Harry felt his face turn hot and focused his
gaze on his hands. Farrell observed them both with wry look on his
face and said, “Well, since we have no more orders and our waiters
at Chez FBI are ready, I’ll make the call,” and he whipped
out his cellphone to place the order.
    Soon the food arrived and everyone ate their
dinner quietly. Anastasia sat in her chair, legs crossed like any
woman would…fur and all, and partial cat features aside, she exuded
a kind of warmth and more troubling, a scent that Harry found
disturbingly attractive.
    Farrell didn’t seem to find her attractive.
He waited patiently and at the end of the meal the questions
started. Outside of her name, though, she didn’t volunteer any
information…or couldn’t. The more questions he asked, the more
agitated she became, saying she didn’t remember a thing and
eventually she started to shake all over, quite violently.
    Finally, he stopped the twenty-questions bit
in order to let her calm down and shook his head in frustration.
“You know, I don’t know what to think anymore. The only thing I’m
pretty sure of is that you’re some kind of spy,” he said, staring
at her. “You have no memory, you’ve got super strength and
reflexes, and you’re a transgenic…whatever…it all adds up to
someone sending you here, and it wasn’t for vacation purposes.”
    Anastasia suddenly got off the cot and he
backed up, his hand hovering around his belt where he’d put the
Taser. Harry remained where he was, watching the action go
down.
    “How can I be a spy when I don’t remember
anything?” she asked, her voice rising in anger. “What am I
supposed to remember?”
    Farrell smiled grimly. “You remember
details.”
    The agent went over to the computer, typed
something in, and then called the girl over. Harry went with her
and saw a picture of the interior of an office building. “Look at
it for five seconds,” he ordered.
    Reluctantly, she obeyed and then he closed
the top. “Describe the contents of the main floor,” he ordered.
“Describe everything in as much detail as you can.”
    Anastasia shut her eyes and her body
immediately went rigid. In a monotonous voice, she recited every
facet of the room right down to the last plant and what genus it
was. Finally, she opened her eyes, blinked, and shook her head as
if trying to rid it of the bugs inside. “Did I say anything?”
    “You have total recall,” Farrell murmured.
“You have no memory of who you are or where you came from, but you
remember everything right down to the last little atom. That makes
you a spy in my book.”
    Anastasia said nothing and stared at the
floor. Finally, she picked her head up and looked at Harry. “You
said you were some kind of scientist. Can you make me normal?” Her
eyes spoke of desperation, as did her voice.
    For a moment, uncertainty gripped at Harry’s
soul. If there was one place where he always felt confident, it was
in the lab, at the computer, doing what he did best, and now…he
felt lost. “I don’t know,” he finally answered. “I have to study
your DNA more and see what they—uh, I mean, whoever, uh, did
this—um, what they did to you.”
    Anastasia grimaced. “I don’t remember what I
looked like before. I don’t remember anything . All I
remember is waking up