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“Alright, we’ll send a few folks for dinner tonight. Keep an eye on everything. The cameras are functioning, so we should be able to see everything that’s going on. Anything on the other cameras?”
“No. Just what we already knew. The feed was going to a laptop, but it was an old one. We were having difficulty tracking the IP address. I’m not sure it matters now that we’ve disconnected it.”
The three men turned to leave, only to be met by Mama Irene. She was carrying two cakes. Behind her were Marie, Claudette, and Camille, carrying two more each. Although not bulky like their brothers, the Robicheaux sisters looked just like them. Gorgeous auburn hair, whiskey-colored eyes, tall, and bodies to die for.
“Take these cakes,” said Irene.
“Mama, I don’t think Chef Islip needs cakes. He’s got a pastry chef who makes delicious things every day,” said Luc.
“Don’t argue with me, Luc. Take ‘em. If somethin’ happens to these cakes, we know it’s somethin’ in the air. It ain’t nothin’ do with ingredients. I baked them myself. So, you take them cakes and see what happens. Don’t unwrap ‘em unless you’re ready to cut ‘em.”
“She’s got a good idea,” said Otto. “If we have trouble in the kitchen, we can also serve up a slice ‘on the house’ until we figure something out.”
“I hate to admit it,” said Gabe, “but it’s a damn good idea. There’s nothing wrong with the cakes now. Let’s go see what happens.”
The brothers and Otto waved goodbye, loading the cakes into the truck. A few minutes later, Suzette and Riley walked into the conference room.
“Max said you wanted to see us,” said Riley.
Riley Neill was a pediatric oncologist turned researcher and general physician. Truth was, like all the doctors on the property, she did whatever was necessary. A brilliant surgeon, chemist, and retired Navy doctor, she met Max Neill when he was with REAPER in Virginia.
Suzette Robicheaux was the youngest of the Robicheaux sisters. She’d married Sly DiMarco while Riley was treating him for his cancer. They’d been friends for years, dated, and then were separated when Sly went back to Virginia. But nothing could keep the two lovebirds apart.
“What do you know about micronutrients or laboratory-created foods?” asked Ian.
“Geez, you know how to pick a conversation, don’t you?” said Suzette.
“It’s important, sis,” said Gaspar giving his sister a serious, but pleading look. Suzette nodded at her serious older brother. Usually, they had light-hearted banter, but he seemed almost defeated by the subject.
“Sorry, of course. Well, if we’re talking at the basics, lab-created meat is meat.”
“What?” called the crowd.
“Listen, lab-created meat is, I mean, if we’re talking on a cellular level, it’s really just beef grown from cow cells or pork from pig cells. Now, if we’re talking about plant-based products that are trying to taste like meat, that’s different. They’re made with all kinds of ingredients designed to mimic the flavors of meat but by using optional ingredients.”
“Are they safe?” asked Ghost.
“There’s not a lot of data,” said Riley. “I mean, we know that they passed USDA standards and requirements, but we don’t know if long-term, they could create issues.”
“What about produce?” asked Nine.
“Well, we know that scientists have been able to reproduce certain cultures from berries, and they’re trying to recreate the actual fruit or vegetable, but to my knowledge, no one has done that yet.”
“I can’t believe we’re actually talking about this,” said Ian. “Why would we want to force our farmers and ranchers out of business?”
“Money,” said Suzette and Riley together.
“Money is the obvious answer,” said Riley. “It’s incredibly expensive to raise and feed cattle. If you’re running a farm, think about all the things that could go wrong in a year. Insects, pesticides, winds, tornados, freezes, flooding, drought. If you were able to reproduce all of that in a lab, you wouldn’t have those issues.”
“Or the flavors,” said Ghost.
“Probably not,” smiled Riley, “but they’re working on it. Listen, there are now options for cow’s milk. You can drink almond, oat, soy, and all kinds of different varieties calling themselves milk. We have to open our eyes to the possibility that other things will follow.”
“Nope,” said Nine, shaking his head. “The day someone tells me my steak is made from something other than cow, I’m out.” The two women laughed, shaking their heads.
“You didn’t just call us in here for a lecture on food alternatives,” smiled Suzette. “What do you need?”
“We need you inside Responsible MicroNutrients. Just see if you can tell us what’s happening in the labs,” said Nine.
