Genecaust Page 7

  Poppy nodded with more enthusiasm than someone who has spent a full day and night on a plane.

  “You don’t look it but you have got to be tired. What was I thinking keeping you here so long? The front desk will take your bags to your suite. Since you’ll be staying here, use the time you’d spend looking for a place to catch up on personal things.” She ran her hand through her shoulder bag. "This is Clark's business card. He's our personal concierge. I’ll introduce you tomorrow.” She liked the loquacious young woman and her distinct sense of humor and looked forward to working with her. “Welcome to America, Poppy.”

  While I'm not expecting any problems, I certainly don't want to leave any for you. I left an envelope for you on the small secretary's desk in the hallway of your suite."

  “You said you’d be away for a month?”

  “Yeah, but here’s the kicker. I got my invitation from someone who is a bit, how do you say it, dodgy? I have a friend looking into it for me. It may not come to anything. I’ll fill you in.” She pushed away from the table. “But first, let’s head for our apartments and get started with a good night’s sleep.”

  12

  Katya's Magic

  April, Washington, D. C. - A new kind of medicine

  After several sessions, Katya held Dr. Subash Subash with her strong powers of suggestion. He saw the six hospital beds in the interrogation room as surly as if they were really there. The hours spent in the chair made his legs weak and he placed a hand on one of the imaginary beds to steady himself as he moved to the bed that held his scrubs. He went through all the motions of dressing.

  Donahue knocked on the wall of glass that separated him from her and the prisoner. “What the hell? What’s he doing with his hands? What does he think he’s doing?”

  Katya ignored him. She knew he’d grow impatient. He relied on a slapstick or an electric prod to get satisfaction in an interrogation.

  Theoretically dressed, Subash rubbed the imagined chaffing on his wrists and shook his head. “I won’t do it. He can’t make me.” The diminutive Doctor struggled to straighten his back. “What he asks is too much. I will not do it.”

  “Well, my dear Doctor, you agreed to accept several million dollars to create the cocktail for Donahue.” She paced across the width of the one-way mirror. “You knew there would be human trials.”

  The small man rapidly shook his head. “He did not say there would be this many people.” Covering his cheeks with his hands, he cradled his head. “It is too many. Too many.”

  “You can accept the loss of a few lives, but you draw the line at many? Where is that line? Is it at three? Or maybe four people? Maybe nine is okay, but not ten? Forgive me, but I am having trouble with the line you draw with your scruples. Or is it your logic?”

  Subash stared at the floor, saying nothing.

  “Let us take a closer look at that line, Doctor. You will see yours when I say the word.”

  Subash raised his chin, horror in his wide eyes.

  “The word is family.”

  “Ah. I see you recognize the people in each bed? You wife is petite and perfect for you. And these are your three young daughters. Aja, Paka, and Taj. Pretty names to go with pretty girls. Life has much to offer them. I see your mother and even your mother-in-law lying on their backs, their chests rising and falling in slumber.”

  "What . . . have . . . you . . . done?" His voice grew in volume and panic with each word. "You black-hearted witch!" He ran toward his wife's bed crying, "My family? You would hurt my family?"

  “Listen carefully, Doctor.” She led him non-too gently back to the metal chair. After draping a short piece of rope across his naked thighs, she said. “Subash, the word is bondage.”

  Immediately, he behaved as though he were securely tied up with no hope of escape. Unable to move his arms and legs, Subash could only stare at Katya’s malicious grin. She leaned in close for a more menacing effect. "Your family is only asleep. I will not harm them, and they will have no memory of this." She patted his head. "Only you will remember, Doctor. You once said you could live with the death of a few deserving enemies, but you drew a line against terrorism. On this day, you will confront the line and cross it.”

  Subash struggled, but could not escape. "Donahue," she called straightening up, but not turning, "didn't you say you had six subjects waiting to partake in the experiment?" She knew Donahue would play his part in Subash’s fantasy.

  “At least six.”

  “Six will do. Subash, we need a new word. The new word is Women. Do you see them? Six dark skinned women huddled in the corner of our interrogation room. Their hands and feet banded tightly. You do see them, right?"

  “Yes, Katya”

  Even though it took her longer than she had planned for, his conditioning now allowed her to make him see what she needed him to experience. “That’s better. The word is release, Doctor. Stand so you can see everyone.”

  Although he stood and gave a quick glance toward the corner, he went to the beds containing the images in his mind of his family and avoided any more eye contact with the corner. Katya's patience wore thin.

  “Not your family, Subash. Look at the others . . . the ones in the corner. They are good candidates for our field test, yes?”

  Subash stared at the woman he saw huddled in the corner. “They are afraid.”

  “And so they should be.” She faced the one-way glass wall. “Agent Donahue, you are positive the six women we gathered from the island all qualify as experimental subjects?”

  “Affirmative. All six women come from Socotra.”

  “So we have our experimental subjects. Do you hear that, Doctor? Your family will be the control group. They are not related to the women in the corner, correct? ”

  “No, no. Not good.”

  “But doctor, your family does not have the special genetic marker as the poor women in the corner share. Only they will die, not your family. Isn’t that what your special toxin is all about?”

  Subash had no way of knowing if his family was a hypnotic image or a real, he didn’t want them involved, this close to death.

  “You can not use my family in this experiment.”

  “Are you worried that you made a mistake? Perhaps your poison is not specific to the parameters you were asked for.”

  Dirk watched from the other side of the one-way glass wall and spoke softly through the intercom. "I see the good doctor has finally caught on. Tell me, Subash, why can't we use your family?"

  The small naked doctor surveyed the room, his eyes darted from the six female members of his sedated family, to the image of six-banded women huddled in the corner of the room.

  She harassed him. "You made the cocktail to my directions, did you not? I asked that it be effective only to the certain haplogroup marker. Only the women bound on the floor are from that populace, not your family, right Sen? Right? Are you afraid the protein cocktail will kill your family, even though they are neither from Socotra nor of haplogroup lineage? Are you not as good as you say, Subash? Did you fail?”

  The Doctor squirmed. “I made it for special women from Socotra, as you asked.”

  “Yes you did, the protein cocktail will infect all the women in the corner and none of the women your family.”

  The huddled women in the corner seemed to sense they were in immediate danger and wailed in high keening voices. Subash heard the women and recoiled in fear.

  Katya glared at them in distain before lifting her hand in a dismissive wave. The grating noise stopped for him when she said, "They are unconsciousness now and will not distract you, Subash."

  Katya wasted no time with the doctor and turned to Dirk behind the window, “Did Subash tell you how long it takes to know if the cocktail is working?”

  “Tell her, Doctor.”

  Dr. Subash Subashshookshook so badly he could hardly stand and his voice trembled so much he barely managed an answer. "Nausea and vomiting begin immediately. Within three days, those who are predispos
ed will die." He looked directly at the unconscious women in the corner.

  “Where do you keep your protein cocktails, Doctor? I need the one with the formula that actually works, the special one in the silver thermos. Did you hide it in your lab’s locker?”

  He shook his head and wrung his hands.

  She frowned. “You must never lie to me, even by omission, Subash. “I see we need to use a special new word.” She pointed two fingers at his forehead. “Remember what happens when I touch you this way? All the demons hiding in your mind are set free and make you watch bad things. If I release the demons, only the word will stop them.”

  He shook his head and bit his tongue. "No. Please. Don't."

  “Tell me where you hid your death-dealing protein.”

  He didn’t respond.

  She extended her arm to touch his forehead with her index and middle fingers. The word is truth.

  His face contorted into a painful grimace. “No. Please. Don’t. Don’t touch me.” He slumped. “It’s the silver one with the white top.”

  She stepped aside and gestured toward the foot of the bed where his wife lay sleeping. “See the wooden stool next to the glass wall? Do you see the silver canister with the white cap sitting on it?”

  His jaw dropped, he held his hands in prayer and nodded.

  “I believe it is what you had in mind. Tell me, do you keep all the special protein in this bottle? Remember, the word is truth.”

  “There’s more in my room in a locker.” Sen’s eyes darted back and forth from the silver thermos to his family.

  “It is so simple Doctor. You are not still surprised how this thing works, are you? If you think about it, I know it." She looked at the thermos as though reading the label on a beautiful bottle of wine. "Come with me, Doctor. Take my hand, and we will leave this room and stand with Director Donahue to watch what happens. I will leave the special thermos here on the stool."

  Subash tentatively extended his hand.

  Donahue eyed the slight doctor as he peered through the window at his family, and then saw his eyes lock on the wooden stool by the glass. The agent knew the Subash was frightened and wondered what he saw there and what Katya's next step would be. Subash had every right to be afraid. She never made it easy for a subject, and that was what he was, her subject, to do with as she pleased.

  He folded his arms and tried not to smile. He knew it was all a game and although he had no clear picture of what was going on, he played along as best he could.

  Katya and Subash stood holding hands like a parent and child at the zoo looking through the window at Sen’s sleeping family and the inert huddle of six women. “Watch the safety release on the thermos, Doctor.”

  She pointed to the stool on the other side of the window where she knew Subash could see a silver thermos. “Observe the cap slowly unscrewing. The vapor may be an invisible, odorless gas of airborne enzymes, but I can see them escaping by the ripples in the air? Do you see the ripples of air? Soon your deadly protein will fill the room.”

  Subash, in a frenzy of fear, pounded the window with both hands and shouted, “Let me in! I want to be with my family!”

  The women in the corner are coughing and throwing up. Disgusting. They are all crying in fear.”

  Subash pushed his nose against the viewing mirror. “My . . . family—”

  “So far, your family is not infected. The other six women . . . are sick from your escaped protein. While your family sleeps peacefully on.”

  Doctor Subash Zhen’s knees buckled, and he passed out.

  Donahue jerked his head at Katya, shaking his head. “Well I sure as hell don’t know what you just did, but it worked. You never said you could read minds.”

  "I can't. People have many ways of telling me things. I work from their tells and then build the conditioning the hard way. Subash is an easy subject. I placed everything in his mind using conditioning and suggestive skills. As did you. You played your part well. Subash couldn't tell what was real and what I had placed in his mind." She gave him a hard look. "You overheard and understood the part about the silver thermos, right?"

  “Yea, I didn’t see a damn thing.”

  “The canister is actually in Subash’s lab. I had a session with him there the other day and convinced him to show it to me. It, like the family and the women, were never here. I think he’ll do anything we ask him to from now on in.”

  Donahue nodded as if her statement cleared up the hocus-pocus. He was just happy to get the info. He didn’t like asking her for anything, but he needed confirmation. “I can understand how scientists like Subash are willing to kill a few people but somehow balk at many, but I’m curious, Katya, just how many women will be dead on the other side of our line in this proof of concept thing?”

  "If you expect to see billions of dollars in our next business endeavor we must be prepared to demonstrate our willingness to perform at their level of expectation. After we deploy this biological weapon on the Socotra population to target and eliminate about 1500 women, they will learn of our intention.”

  13

  Interesting Developments

  Late April, Houston - Unknown prankster

  Meret sat on her eastern balcony overlooking the flower gardens of the Houston Museum of Natural Science. Technically in her second day of unemployment, she lounged in a comfy white terry cloth robe and bunny slippers while cradling a mug of coffee and checking the news from her tab. When her cell rang, she snatched it. "Robert. Tell me you learned something."

  "You were right to contact me, Kiddo. The CIA rates Special Agent Granger Hawking among their top Field Agents. He also is known for his stellar record of analysis."

  "Analysis? What does that mean?"

  That's not what's important. The real Hawking is out of the country on assignment. Your boy is as phony as my sheriff's badge. Agents William Parker and Harry Richbane, from the Houston CIA office will be out to interview you about him."

  "What do I do if he comes back?"

  "Make sure you are in a crowd, stall him, and call Alice."

  * * *

  For her interviews and meetings, Meret liked to use the Hemingway room. It was a small intimate dining room on the first floor next conveniently adjacent to the lobby and valet parking, and closest to the bar and the Bogart and Bacall restrooms. Although technically an owner of the hotel, she approached any request to use the facilities with a light hand, taking the time to work with the hotel's staff with the respect and deportment of a client.

  She was meeting with Zhen, her long time respected friend from Rice University and her associate at MD Anderson. She'd hired him to run her lab and to recruit and interview prospects for his lab team. She felt lucky to have him. Sometimes, timing was everything. He was discouraged by the Hospital administration's policy for grant funding and the publishing process and was eager to make a move to the private sector where secrets are not published, and the company pays for everything. She snorted. She had to find more money.

  A member of the Zalea's wait staff set a silver tray of coffee and sweet pastries between Meret and Zhen and her colleague and he pulled the sleeve of his white lab coat back as he reached for two lemon cookies.

  Dr. Zhen Jianjun was slighter older than Meret and always treated her like a younger sister. "Ah, Meret, you are playing on my fondness for sweets. Is there something you want, perhaps?" He raised an eyebrow to say you cannot pull one over on me.

  Meret raised her own eyebrow to say we'll see, before taking one of the dangerous-to-her-diet donuts. "Thanks for accepting the position, Zhen. Seriously. I'm looking forward to what your mind can create for us now that you no longer have the burden of bureaucracy hanging over you. Have you found a specialist in materials who leans toward biological integration yet?"

  He poured coffee. "Oh, yes. I have a colleagues who likes the idea that we will be blending the two in a mash up of biochemistry and Nanotechnology." He took another lemon cookie. "How about you? Do we have a contract yet
?"

  "Ha, ha. I'll be closing on that elusive butterfly soon. How are our beetle bots coming along?"

  He wiggled his brows. "Would you like to see, right now?" It was a rhetorical question and reached into the deep pocket of his lab coat. "Behold." He placed a two-inch oblong black beetle bot on the table. Its shiny shell looked like baked enamel. "Like it?" He grinned. "Looks real, yes?"

  She leaned closer the table and gently touched its back with the tip of her finger. "Operational?" she asked, rolling her eyes up to Zhen.

  He removed a smartphone from his outer pocket. "But of course." He poked the screen three times, and the beetle rose in flight from the table, hovering about a foot from her nose.

  "What's it doing?" she said, eyes crossed.

  "It's scanning you and sniffing you."

  She sat back. "And what did it learn?"

  He glanced at his phone. "Surprise. It says you are Dr. Meret Mather, age 27, weight—"

  "Never mind," she interrupted. I believe you. So, I take it scanning data is uploaded in real time to our TOR server and your smartphone reads from its database. I'm sure this will be of use whatever our first project is. How's the sniffer component coming along?"

  "It sniffs, it can search any object for trace. It your case it made use of the DNA trace it found on its body from where you touched it, remember? We have a suitable collection process, but for now, the samples must be prepared in a proper lab."