Pavlov's Dogs Read Online Free Page A

spotlight.
    For his part, Crispin was busily congratulating himself on making the new man the focus of this awkward situation. No, he didn’t like Donovan, but it was more than that. The tech’s resume had been impeccable, and combined with the lack of decorum (and fear) he had shown as they’d watched the Dogs spar and tear at each other’s throats... the combination gnawed at Crispin. Donovan’s youth was another point against him. Crispin knew what sort of single-minded and bloody determination it took to be acknowledged in any of the sciences, and for the new neurotechnician to have achieved that recognition already, well...
    Keep your eyes off my job , Dr. Crispin thought.
    Meanwhile, the head of another table stood up to begin the introductions. He was a man in his forties, with a wrinkled brow and a receding hairline. When he spoke, his voice carried with authority. “My name is Todd Sales, human resources. And this is Jenny Freis and Mauricio Tapia.”
    “Major General Mauricio Tapia,” Jenny Freis interrupted. She looked at Donovan and said, “Mauricio’s always reminding people that he was in the Air Force.”
    Everyone laughed, and Mauricio Tapia looked embarrassed but reserved. Then Todd Sales turned back to Donovan and said, “Ah, welcome.” He cracked a smile as if it pained him to do so, and then he sat.
    At the next table over stood a tall woman with hair like a dandelion. “Hello,” she said brightly. “I’m Tracy Rivers, and this is Oscar and Homer Anders.” She indicated a pair of curly-headed men, obviously brothers. “We’re the admin team. If you need any materials for your work, just let us know!”
    She sat and another woman on the other side of the room stood up. “Carmen, IT. This is Lucy, Lucy, and Pat—and don’t worry about getting our names right.”
    “We know you won’t,” one of the Lucys said before knocking back her glass of wine.
    Donovan’s smile felt clammy on his lips, so he let it drop. The prospect of getting help from any of these people didn’t appeal to him in the slightest.
    From another table, a very fat man stood up with a wheeze. His red face gleamed with sweat, and Donovan felt uncomfortable looking at him.
    “Ronald,” the fat man said. “Ronald Michaels. I’m in charge of the medical facilities.”
    “He’s not a doctor,” Drinking Lucy chimed in, “but he plays one on an island.”
    “Lucy...” Dr. Crispin said, and Carmen put a hand on Lucy’s, who promptly shook it off.
    “As I was saying,” Ronald continued, “the medical facilities are mine and my team’s. Meet Alison Levenseller and Joshua Ericson, the nurses.” He indicated a small, surly blonde who had a mouth full of food, and an equally surly dark-complected man, who desperately needed a meal.
    Donovan felt a kick under the table, and he turned. Next to him sat another woman, a redhead with vibrant green eyes. “If you get hurt, come to me,” she said quietly. Donovan looked back at Ronald Michaels’ nursing staff and nodded.
    A man was standing almost directly behind Donovan, and the neurotechnician had to turn so far to see him that his back popped loudly in the dining room. The other man, oblivious to Donovan’s discomfort, pushed up his glasses and started talking.
    “Doctor, I looked you up online as soon as I heard you were coming, and let me just say, I am thrilled to be working with you.” He beamed at Donovan, waiting for a reply, until someone at the table smacked his wrist with a butter knife.
    “Ow, what? Oh!” His pale skin flushed to the roots of his light brown hair, and he began to stammer. “I’m, ah, Gary Sims, and I’ll be your lab assistant. And this is Summer Chan.” He indicated his knife-wielding co-worker, a blond girl with a pert nose. “Also meet Scott Halstead.”
    Scott nodded his welcome.
    Dr. Donovan looked back to the people sitting at his table, the redhead who had kicked him and a stern-looking older black man with a shaved