BOX SET of THREE TOP 10 MEDICAL THRILLERS

by Ian C. P. Irvine

Chapter 41

  Old Creek Farm

  Delaware

  Dana was scared. She knew exactly what Dr. Smiles was trying to do. She knew she had to try and resist him as much as she could.

  She wasn't scared for herself. No, she was scared for Kerrin, and she knew that his life depended upon her.

  Dr Smiles rolled back her sleeve, then tapping the vein in the crook of her arm a few times, he lifted the needle and injected her with a clear liquid.

  A few minutes later he got up and left. It was a good hour before he returned, but when he did, she was not nearly so apprehensive about everything as she had been before. Someone had started to play some soft, soothing classical music from the loudspeakers in their padded white room, and she was beginning to realize that perhaps the best thing to do would be just to tell the doctor everything.

  He seemed kind, and gentle.

  Perhaps he could help her.

  Dr. Smiles liked Dana. Genuinely, he did. She was kind and considerate. When the time came, as a mark of respect and of kindness to her, he would kill her quickly. There would be no pain.

  An hour later he left Dana in the room, the door sliding shut and locking electronically behind him. He walked along the hall and took the elevator down three floors to the fifth level in the subterranean underground bunker. His office was in the far corner, bright and cheerful. A small oil painting, a copy of his favorite Matisse hung on the wall across from his desk, and as he picked up the phone and dialed Cheng Wung's number, he admired it as he did every day. He never tired of it.

  "Cheng, good to speak to you again. Yes…I've made some good progress. I think I've got everything I'm going to need from his wife…Fine…Thank you, that's very kind of you…Yes, well, that's the reason I'm calling you. You see, I've been able to establish the identity of his current alias…quite clever really…yes…well, I would suggest that you tell your guys to start looking for a man called Mark Twain. Yes, like the writer…Thank you…oh, by the way, what do you want me to do with the other two? The woman from the state department and the journalist…? Kill them now or hang on a bit longer?…Excellent, I think that's the right decision…"

  --------------------

  Day Twenty-Eight

  John F. Kennedy Airport

  New York

  Kerrin jumped out of the taxi and walked across the main hall of the airport. He strolled up to the American Airlines desk, and asked when the next flight would be to Washington D.C..

  "Good, that'll be great. I would like a single ticket, and I want to pay for it by credit card."

  He pulled out his Amex card and passed it across to the pretty young sales assistant behind the counter.

  Above her head a security camera was recording the transaction, and as Kerrin watched he noticed the lens turning and focusing on him.

  He smiled back.

  The woman behind the desk looked up at Kerrin and apologized.

  "I'm sorry sir, my computer has just crashed…I'm sorry to delay you, but I'll have to reboot it and start again."

  "No problem. I'll wait."

  Kerrin knew the girl was bluffing. She didn't have a computer: she was using a terminal, connected via a hub to a central server. There was nothing wrong with her screen. More probably the truth was that as she had swiped his card to pay for the transaction, a warning message had flashed on her screen telling her that the passenger was wanted by the police, and that security personnel were on their way.

  Good. Things were going to plan.

  Just as Kerrin had hoped for, Dana must have told them his new name.

  He would only have to wait a few moments now, and then the fun would begin.

  --------------------

  The security guards took up their positions within minutes. The team leader had a clear visual on the suspect, and was pleased to see that he was still standing by the ticket desk, oblivious to the trap that was being set around him.

  The young sales assistant was doing her job well, asking new customers to move to another kiosk where they would be served quicker.

  The team leader ordered three of his plain-clothed officers to approach the desk slowly, feigning being customers. Two other officers were already crawling slowly along the floor behind the row of ticket desks and would be in position within seconds, ready to spring up at his command beside the sales assistant.

  Three more armed officers in full protective uniforms would charge in from the front entrance to the ticket hall, and he himself would enter through a service door quite close to the ticket booth.

  His radio clicked twice. The signal that the last of his men were in place.

  He pushed the broadcast button and spoke quickly into his microphone.

  "Go. Go. Go!"

  --------------------

  Even though Kerrin had been standing and waiting for them, he was still surprised and very impressed when out of nowhere, what seemed like an army of security guards charged at him from all angles and overpowered him.

  He offered no resistance, but he doubted that he would have been able to, even if he had wanted to. After years of anti-terrorist training, the security men were thorough and proficient in the execution of their duties.

  Within three seconds, Kerrin was lying face down on the cold, polished floor of the terminal, his hands cuffed tightly behind his back, the weight of three security officers pressing down on him hard. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the sales assistant screaming behind the desk, a security officer standing beside her, his weapon pointing straight at Kerrin. He couldn't see the others, but he reckoned that there were at least eight of them.

  Within minutes he was being forcibly lifted and taken from the ticketing hall out to a waiting car. As he was bundled into the back seat, a guard inside the car reached across towards him. Kerrin felt a prick and some pain in his arm, then the world around him went black.

  --------------------

  Day Twenty-Eight

  Old Creek Farm

  Delaware

  Cheng Wung arrived in a cavalcade of three cars. He had flown up on a private jet as soon as he had heard the good news that they had Kerrin Graham in custody.

  There had been no problems in taking charge of the prisoner and transferring him from the airport security into their hands. Once they'd had Kerrin's new alias, it had literally only been a matter of hours before he had been located and seized.

  Frankly, he was a little surprised how easy it had been. He was surprised that the Graham man had not anticipated how simply they could extract his alias from his wife, and that he had not taken suitable precautionary measures.

  No matter. They had him now, and that was all that counted.

  Cheng stepped out of the bullet-proof limousine and looked around. He wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. Even though it was late, it was still hot and surprisingly humid for this time of year.

  He had never actually been to this location before and was curious to find out if it compared to his regional office down in Miami. He looked at his watch. It was six thirty in the evening. He had not yet contacted Buz to tell him about their success. He would leave that a little longer. First, he wanted to talk to the prisoner himself. He was eager to meet the man who had managed to elude him at every twist and turn.

  Behind him, his new assistant, Agent Laura Samuels stepped out of the car and followed in his footsteps. She had recently transferred to his department in the CIA after several exceptional years of service in the FBI. Cheng was renowned for surrounding himself with exceptional talent, and Laura's work in South Africa had impressed him. Normally, such a transfer would have been difficult to organize, but Buz Trueman had owed him a favor and he had arranged it all very quickly.

  Several other agents jumped out from the other two cars and formed a cordon around them as they walked to the entrance to the farm house. Inside they were welcomed by the farm owner, a strong young man in military uniform, who checked their ID and then asked them to move into a room in the cent
re of the building.

  Both Cheng and Agent Samuels stepped up in turn to the retina scanner, and then allowed their finger prints to be scanned. Satisfied that they were both whom they claimed to be, the man in uniform pressed a button underneath his desk and the far wall of the room slid aside, revealing the entry to an elevator.

  They stepped inside, pressed the button for number three, and rode the elevator down to the third subterranean level. As the door slid open they stepped out into the chilled, air-conditioned moisture free atmosphere.

  "Aah…at last…somewhere cool!" Cheng exclaimed.

  They were standing in a small reception area. In front of them a large glass wall, on the other side of which they could see a corridor leading away from them into the bunker complex beyond. A young man walked towards them from a desk beside the wall on their right, and after greeting them, asked them once more for their ID, and to comply with another compulsory retina and finger print scan.

  Again, their credentials were in order, and as the system recognized them officially, the young agent turned a light shade of red.

  "Oh, Director Wung, I am sorry. No one told me you were coming. I did not know to expect you…I hope you understand, the security checks are necessary!"

  "Don't apologize. I'm pleased to see that you're doing your job. Carry on, Agent…?"

  "Agent Weisenbaum, sir!"

  "Carry on Agent Weisenbaum."

  The young officer stepped up to the glass partition, looked into the camera above the door and nodded. The door opened before them, sliding automatically to the side, and the three of them stepped into the corridor beyond. Director Wung explained the purpose of his visit, and they then followed Agent Weisenbaum to the second last room at the end of the corridor, where he knocked lightly on one of the doors, opened it, and then ushered them into the room beyond.

  Kerrin looked up from the seat he was tied to, and recognized the woman immediately. It was the mystery woman from seat 2B who had killed Alex Swinton in South Africa.

  Laura smiled back. She turned to her boss and nodded.

  "Yes, that's him. There's no doubt."

  "Excellent." Cheng said, patting her lightly on the shoulder, but letting his hand linger for just a second longer than would be normal. They both walked into the room and stood in front of Kerrin.

  The room was bare and completely empty apart from the single chair upon which Kerrin sat. The walls and the floor of the interrogation room were white, and the bright lights overhead bounced strongly off the shiny gloss walls, making it difficult to see the edges of the room clearly, where the floor ended and the walls or the ceiling began.

  Cheng could easily imagine that after several hours in the room, a person would begin to lose their sense of reality.

  The door behind them opened once again, and a strong, powerful man in a blue suit walked in. He was carrying a large brown envelope which appeared to be bursting at its seams.

  "Cheng Wung. It is a pleasure to have you here in Delaware…I am Agent Daniels. I run this facility. We have the other three ladies in other rooms on this floor, should you wish to talk with them."

  Kerrin sat bolt upright in his chair.

  Three other ladies? They would almost certainly be Dana and Fiona, although who the third was he couldn't think.

  "When Mr Graham was apprehended at the airport, he was carrying this parcel. He didn't have any luggage with him…just this…"Agent Daniels said, handing over the parcel to Cheng.

  "Thank you. Listen, Agent Daniels…could you do something about this lighting, turn it down a bit perhaps, and could you bring us some chairs and a table…and some coffee?"

  A few minutes later several security guards marched in, carrying the furniture.

  "Excellent, now…Mr Graham…boy, am I pleased to meet you! You've led us all a merry dance…"

  Kerrin had been silent till now.

  When he had woken up in the chair in the white room, he had been interrogated briefly by a series of progressively more senior people. He had refused to speak to any of them, except to insist that he be allowed to meet with and speak to David Sonderheim.

  "I am a journalist for the Washington Post, and if I am not allowed to call my editor by 10 p.m. this evening, in tomorrow's edition of The Post we will publish the truth behind what is happening at the Gen8tyx Company. Now let me speak to David Sonderheim, he's the man I've come to see…"

  From the way Agent Daniels had greeted Cheng Wung, Kerrin guessed that he was one of the top men in charge. He wasn't Sonderheim, but for now he was probably the best he was going to get.

  It was time to go to work.

  --------------------

  Kerrin looked up at the Oriental-American standing in front of him. The man did not scare him, even though from the presence of Alex Swinton's assassin, Kerrin knew these people were ruthless to the core and would think nothing of killing him. He didn't know who they were but for the moment that was unimportant. What was important, was that it was now up to him to save Dana's life.

  "My name is Kerrin Graham. I work for the Washington Post. I would like to speak to David Sonderheim."

  "Oh, we know exactly who you are, Mr Graham. We know all about you, and what you do. Your wife has explained a lot that is of interest to us…She was most helpful…"

  He emphasized the word 'was'. Kerrin ignored it. He knew they were trying to put him on edge.

  "I repeat, I would like to meet and speak with David Sonderheim. Unless you arrange this immediately there will be severe repercussions." Kerrin threatened.

  "Mr Graham. You are in no position to threaten us…"

  "Oh, but I think you will find that I am. The parcel you have in your hand contains a complete copy of the Orlando Treatment. Are you familiar with what that is? Are you familiar with the Chymera Corporation? Well, if you are not, I suggest you do exactly what I tell you to do. I demand that I be allowed to meet with my wife, and see that she is well and unharmed, and I demand that your friend David Sonderheim shows his cute little face here in the next couple of hours. If you know all about me as you claim, then you will be well aware that I work for the Washington Post, and I must reiterate that unless I am allowed to call my editor by 10 p.m., which I would guess is in less than two hours from now, he will print my story on the Orlando Project and Chymera and release the entire contents of the Orlando Treatment to the public…and I'm sure that you don’t want to be personally responsible for causing the fall of a second US President at the hands of the Washington Post."

  Laura stepped forward and was about to speak, but Cheng immediately grabbed her by the arm and motioned for her to stay quiet.

  Cheng looked at Kerrin, and saw that there was no fear in the man's eyes. He looked at the parcel in his hands and thought about Kerrin's threat.

  He made a decision. This was not a time to act rashly.

  Perhaps it was time to call Buz Trueman after all.

  Realizing there was nothing more to say, Cheng turned and walked out of the room.

  Laura cast a blank look at Kerrin, then followed him out.

  Chapter 42

  Day Twenty-Eight

  Four Seasons Hotel

  New York

  David Sonderheim took the call just as he got back to his hotel suite overlooking Central Park. Four days ago he had been on one of the biggest highs of his life, but the past few days had rapidly disintegrated into a nightmare.

  The meeting with the Board of the Chymera Corporation had gone better than he could have hoped for. His presentation had captured all of their imaginations and the board had loved him.

  There was only one small problem.

  In the discussion that took place after he had left the room, there had been an embarrassing question from one of the board, -he suspected it was the CEO of Sabre Genetics-, asking for clarification on the rumors circulating about a possible exposé that would soon be published by the Washington Post.

  How it had got out, David couldn't prove exactly, but he
was pretty sure that the rumor had been cleverly started by the one person who had seemed most concerned about it: Sabre's CEO, Calvin Mead. Ever since Gen8tyx had joined Chymera, Calvin had made it no secret that he was after David's job.

  In the end, Rupert had reassured those in the board room by promising that the situation would be cleared up immediately. He pointed out that Buz Trueman had already been handed the case, and that Buz had promised the issue would be dealt with within the next few days.

  Everyone trusted Buz.

  Rupert had called for a vote for the necessary funding, and the decision had been unanimous to proceed, with one billion dollars to be provided as requested. The news should have been excellent, except there was one small caveat: the approval was conditional upon the potential problem with the Washington Post being resolved within the week.

  The subtlety of the public shift of responsibility to Buz to resolve the issue was at first lost on David, but it soon dawned on him that it made his handling of the problem look bad and unprofessional.

  When he first realized this, he had initially hoped that he could save face by still resolving the issue himself. He had called his two main contacts in the FBI, John in New York and Laura in Miami, only to find out that John was out of the country somewhere and that Laura had left the FBI to join the CIA. Rumor had it that she had met one of the Divisional Directors, had spent the night with him, and within a few days had been transferred and promoted to his personal assistant! Wherever she was now, she was no longer returning his calls.

  Sonderheim was mad. His anger and hatred towards Kerrin Graham had multiplied ten-fold. If he disliked the man before, now he was ready to rip him apart with his bare hands. David was close, so close, to being elected to the Board. And Phase Three of the Orlando Trials represented the dream he had been working towards all of his life.

  There was no way that a stupid, meddling, bastard of a reporter from The Washington Post was going to stop him!