by Robin Cook
“That’s a rather facile and convenient excuse,” Jack jeered. “I must give you credit for spontaneous creativity.” His cynicism made him dismiss the idea out of hand despite having no idea why Wei Zhao was taking the time and effort to explain all this cutting-edge bioscience to him.
“Do you not believe what I’m telling you about this neonationalistic movement among Chinese millennials? Do you not believe what I told you yesterday about how arbitrary the Chinese Communist government has become in relation to some of us successful businessmen, and how they have restricted the flow of capital out of China to put in jeopardy our overseas investments that are not already self-sustaining?”
“I just can’t relate it all to the deaths of these two young women,” Jack sneered. “It is trying to justify something that is unjustifiable. Carol and Margaret paid with their lives. On top of that, there are four other young people who have also paid with their lives, with the potential of the start of a significant body-fluid-born pandemic here in New York City, London, and possibly Rome. That’s already six people dead and counting.”
“I’m not trying to justify sabotage,” Wei snapped back. “What I am trying to explain is why it is akin to a terrorist attack on me and my company. When we find out who was responsible, believe me, they will be appropriately punished. As for the ‘experiment,’ as you term it, I think it was completely justified, and those women would be alive and well today had this terrorist act not taken place. Human organs grown in pigs is the future, and it is going to save countless lives. As for the potential pandemic, we have already made progress containing it, thanks again to CRISPR/CAS9.”
“Progress how?” Jack demanded.
“In terms of detection and cure,” Wei said. “With the help of CRISPR/CAS9, we have already developed both a rapid test to detect the virus in an asymptomatic patient and an ex-vivo method of eliminating it. The fact that the illness spreads by body fluids rather than by aerosol is a huge benefit, as it will be infinitely easier epidemiologically to determine who needs to be tested.”
“Okay, okay,” Jack said, trying to control his vacillating emotions. He nervously ran his hand through his hair while he tried to organize his thoughts. “Answer me this! Why are you taking the time and energy to explain all this to me? Why are you trying to convince me about something I obviously don’t believe? It doesn’t make sense to me.”
“That is a good question,” Wei said. “As I listen to you, I find myself asking the same question. Partly it is because I do see you as a potential enemy, and I would rather have you on our side. I want you to join our team.”
“And why is that?” Jack asked superciliously. “Let me answer: I think you want me to stop investigating what happened out here in Dover.”
“Why would I care at this point?” Wei questioned. “I’ve told you what happened. There is nothing more for you to investigate.”
“I suppose that’s true to an extent,” Jack said contemptuously. “Maybe now you’re more concerned with what I might do with the information, like give a call to the FDA’s Office of Criminal Investigations.”
“I suppose that is closer to the truth,” Wei admitted.
“So you think by bribing me with double my current salary and some stock in your organization I would be willing to make a Faustian deal?”
“Hardly,” Wei said, clearly struggling to contain his own emotions. “I thought I could appeal to your humanitarian instincts over bureaucratic requirements. Had the sabotage not taken place, within several months we would have been able to present our results with Carol and Margaret and thereby start our transplant program of human organs grown in pigs immediately. The public would have demanded it. Can you imagine how many lives we would be saving instead of waiting the five to ten years or more it will take going through the usual FDA approval process?”
“Tell me this!” Jack demanded. “Do Ted Markham and Stephen Friedlander have equity positions in your company?”
“Absolutely,” Wei said. “As I said, I like all my employees to feel that they are working for a common goal. Everyone of consequence is a stockholder and fully aware and supportive of what we are doing.”
“Jesus H. Christ!” Jack exclaimed. “This is all worse than I could have imagined. Everyone is in collusion. Your entire institution’s method of operating is a classic example of confusing means and ends. It’s akin to the dubious ethical argument that it is justifiable to kill one person if you use the organs to save eight.”
“Absolutely not,” Wei retorted. “What we did has nothing at all to do with that simplistic, deontological Kantian argument. We are all more motivated by the consequentialism of ancient Chinese Mohism, as were Carol and Margaret. We were thinking of thousands upon thousands, not eight. Consequences matter. There’s no question. And there is the issue of autonomy, which is equally important. The women were part of the decision. They weren’t forced.”
For a brief moment Jack buried his head in his hands to massage his scalp after hearing such word salad, the meaning of which he didn’t even understand. He was outraged that he had allowed himself to get into a kind of philosophical argument with a paranoid, overzealous, megalomaniacal narcissist who was all too willing to ignore rules in place to safeguard patients in experimental circumstances. But there was one thing that Jack had to give the man credit for: He was right about Jack having learned just about everything he wanted to know and more about the shady doings of GeneRx, the Farm Institute, and Dover Valley Hospital. Now the question was whom he would tell and whether he would have the opportunity to tell anyone, caught as he was in Wei’s citadel. There was no doubt in his mind that the whole crazy affair would be fodder for the FDA, the CDC, and the FBI. After a moment of thought he decided that if he could, he would put it in Laurie’s lap.
Suddenly emerging from the shelter of his hands, Jack abruptly stood up, startling Wei, who immediately followed suit.
“This has been a delightful party,” Jack said with his signature sarcasm. “But I’m out of here.” With that said, he took a step sideways around Wei toward the door to the gym. He had decided that his sole potential asset was surprise and intended to make a run for it.
With lightning speed Wei’s hand shot out and grabbed Jack’s arm in a viselike grip, yanking Jack to a stop. “Hold on!” he ordered. “You are not leaving until we have an understanding.”
Jack stared into the man’s broad face with its expression of absolute determination with narrow, unblinking eyes and compressed lips. Wei wasn’t making a suggestion or an offer. It was clearly an order reinforced by his hold on Jack’s arm.
For a few beats the two men stared into each other’s eyes across the personality chasm that separated them. Then, slowly, Jack’s eyes lowered to take in the hand gripping his left upper arm. There was a sense of foreboding in the air, as if a fuse had been lit on a powder keg.
What followed was an explosion of sudden cathartic action as Jack, in one motion, wrenched his arm from Wei’s grasp and, with both hands on the man’s chest, forcibly shoved him backward out of the way.
The burst of physical conflict surprised both men. Wei was shocked it had happened at all because invariably his Schwarzenegger-like size and muscles physically intimidated others. Jack was surprised because the man hardly moved despite Jack having given vent to his frustrations with what he thought was a mighty shove.
The next flurry of movement caught Jack off guard as Wei unleashed, more by reflex than thought, a martial-arts-style kick aimed at Jack’s head. Thanks to Jack’s superb physical condition, he not only saw the kick coming but was able to mostly duck under it. It also gave him an opportunity in the milliseconds that followed to rush the larger man. Jack had made an instantaneous decision that he wasn’t going to stand off and be outclassed by exchanging blows with someone trained in martial arts.
In high school in Indiana, Jack had played defensive safety in footbal
l and had developed a forte for tackling, even players significantly larger than himself. As he plowed into the heavier Wei by leading with his right shoulder into the man’s gut, Jack could hear the wind go out of the man’s lungs. Jack lifted as he drove through the tackle, sending both men sprawling back onto the carpeted floor and colliding with director’s chairs and lounge chairs. There was a tremendous clatter as furniture upended and shattered.
For a few minutes the two men rolled around on the floor, with neither gaining the advantage, although Wei was hampered by having to try to catch his breath at the same time. Both men were taken aback by the other’s strength and athletic agility. Ultimately, the deciding factor was home court advantage. Both men had forgotten about Kang-Dae, who had gone for help the moment the confrontation developed. The scuffle had also been seen by security on closed-circuit television. Within minutes a group of five armed and uniformed security personnel rushed into the room and latched on to the struggling, entangled combatants, pulling them to their feet. As they wrenched the fighters apart, both Jack and Wei managed to get in a final punch. Both were a bit worse for wear and out of breath, Wei even a bit worse off than Jack, a fact that gave Jack a modicum of satisfaction.
40
THURSDAY, 2:29 P.M.
Although the guards continued to restrain Jack, Wei was immediately released. Jack eyed the man, unsure of how Wei intended to take advantage of the circumstance. But once again Jack was surprised. Wei was far less angry than Jack reasonably expected, as the first words out of his mouth were, shockingly enough, complimentary. “I admire people in good physical condition,” he said as he adjusted his V-neck, miracle-fabric workout shirt. It had become twisted around his torso. “Your physical fitness speaks well for your basketball playing and bike riding. Maybe I should look into both. You are certainly in far better shape than most Americans your age.” He then retied the drawstring of his sweatpants.
Jack tried to shake off the two sizable men restraining him, but they responded by tightening their grip. Wei noticed and told his guards to let him go. Once free, Jack immediately rearranged his own clothes and straightened his tie, which had somehow remained in place through the tussle. While Jack made himself more presentable, Wei and Kang-Dae had an extended and animated conversation in Mandarin.
“I hate to interrupt,” Jack said when it seemed Wei and Kang-Dae were going to talk interminably. Even some of the guards had begun to shift their weight out of apparent boredom. “As I said, this has been a delightful party, but all good things have to come to an end. I’ll be heading off, if you can give me a hint how I might get back to civilization.”
“That’s not going to happen right at the moment,” Wei said, interrupting his lengthy chat with Kang-Dae. “We are trying to decide what to do with you.”
“I imagine the OCME will soon be curious as to my whereabouts,” Jack said. “They’ll be calling the Dover Valley Hospital before too long, since I haven’t checked in like I was supposed to do.”
“I doubt that very much,” Wei scoffed. “It was one of the reasons we were intent on ferrying you out here after we heard you were put on leave. I think there is a good chance no one knows you are here.” He sighed. “All this is so unnecessary. You could have made this much easier than you have.”
“Sorry not to be more cooperative,” Jack said mockingly, but under his bravado he felt a chill, as it was dawning on him that Wei had told him too much. It was true that no one, not even Warren, knew where he was, and his only connection at that point with the normal, sane world was his mobile phone in his pocket.
Wei shook his head in ostensible disappointment. “Your dossier specifically talked about your well-known aversion to bureaucratic incompetence and restrictive, inappropriate rules. I counted on it. In contrast to some others in our organization who thought of you as an existential risk, I thought otherwise. I believed you would relish the opportunity to push back against bureaucratic interference by helping us solve the problem of the shortage of organs for transplant. Thanks to CRISPR/CAS9, it is one of the first win-win opportunities in medicine today. But you have proved me wrong, Dr. Stapleton. So that’s it! I’m done here.”
Wei turned to the guards and, switching to Mandarin, barked out instructions to them that included drawing their attention to Jack’s jacket draped over the back of one of the director’s chairs.
“Wait,” Jack yelled, as he realized what was happening. “Where am I going?”
“That is a problem,” Wei said. “It is something we never thought about in planning our complex. The idea of needing a place for incarceration never occurred to us. We are going to have to improvise. I’ve instructed our guards to take you to the Farm Institute. We have some holding pens with which we’ll have to make do. It will give you a chance to mull over all that we have talked about. Good day, Dr. Stapleton.” With that said, Wei picked up his towel and headed in the direction of the indoor swimming pool.
Jack called after him, trying to suggest that they talk more, but Wei merely waved over his shoulder as the door closed behind him.
“Okay, Dr. Stapleton,” one of the guards said with a heavy Chinese accent. He and his compatriots were dressed slightly differently from the guards who had brought Jack out to Wei’s house. Although their uniforms were the same color, they were more elegant and made with a more refined fabric suitable for wear in a domestic rather than commercial environment. “Dr. Zhao asks that you hand over your mobile phone.”
“I’m not in favor of that idea,” Jack said with manufactured swagger. He was dismayed at the request coming out of the blue.
“I’m sorry, but Dr. Zhao was insistent,” the man said. He had a name tag, but it was in Chinese characters.
“Sorry,” Jack said. “I’ve been told by my parents never to give my phone to strangers.”
In response to this feeble attempt at humor, the guard barked an order and two of the other guards immediately seized Jack for the second time, one holding each arm. The guard who had spoken with Jack then unceremoniously patted Jack’s pants pockets until he located the phone. He then reached in and extracted it. A moment later it was in the guard’s pocket.
He then motioned with his hand, and Jack was released. “Now we are going out to the vehicle,” the man said. He tossed Jack his jacket. “We will go through the gym and exit directly outside. It is a short walk through the garden. Dr. Zhao suggested we not restrain you, but we will if you make it necessary.”
“I get the picture,” Jack said. He pulled on his jacket. He wasn’t excited about returning to the Dover Valley Hospital with his hands cuffed behind his back. Besides, he liked the idea of an unencumbered walk through the garden. With his basketball playing and bike riding, he was confident he could outrun a good portion of the population. He also liked the idea that Wei’s home was nestled along the border of the Picatinny Arsenal, which Ted Markham said was surrounded by an extensive virgin forest. What better place to lose himself, he thought. He wouldn’t even mind getting picked up by the arsenal security, which he imagined would have to be a robust force, as large as the place purportedly was.
They traversed the gym in short order and exited outside. Although it was into the second week of November, the grounds were ablaze with fall flowers. There was also a Chinese gardener toiling in the flowerbeds, wearing what looked to Jack like a pair of blue pajamas. On his head was a flat conical hat Jack always associated with the Asian farmers and rice fields.
As they walked, Jack wondered if the property had a high chain-link fence around its periphery similar to what surrounded GeneRx and the Farm Institute. If it did, it could be a problem. Still, he thought it worth the gamble. He had no idea what to expect at the Farm Institute. The idea of being put in a pen as if he were livestock wasn’t appealing in the slightest.
The break that Jack was looking for came as they exited the formal garden. Just beyond the flowerbeds was a short expanse of
lawn bordered by woods on one side and driveway on the other. Jack’s idea wasn’t elaborate. He thought he had a good chance of outrunning these uniformed men handicapped by all their equipment festooned on their belts plus heavy-soled shoes. Jack, as usual, had on his black cross-trainers. He also had already pulled on his jacket and zipped it up.
Without warning, Jack bolted. He thought he’d made a clean getaway, as no one even tried to grab him. In the next second, he expected to plunge into the edge of the forest, but he never made it. Stunned in both senses of the word, physically and mentally, he was stopped in his tracks as his whole body seized up. It wasn’t pain as much as shock—again, in both senses of the word. The very next moment he was on the moist ground, trying to recover his senses. He’d been Tased.
The guards gathered around. Two of them roughly hauled Jack to his feet. The one who had spoken earlier pulled Jack’s limp arms behind his back and handcuffed them. When he was finished, the group half- carried Jack to their van. Jack was put in the backseat between two guards and the sliding door was closed.
By the time they passed through the security gate in Wei’s winding driveway, Jack was back to normal, although again uncomfortable sitting against his cuffed hands. As they pulled out onto the county road, Jack tried to make conversation. “Sorry about that attempt to run away,” he said, giving apology a try. “I didn’t mean any disrespect to you fellows.”
