Catnip

by J. S. Frankel

  “Welcome to my humble abode,” the man said.

  In the harsh light, the man appeared to be older than Harry had initially thought, somewhere in his late sixties. The language, the foreign accent…he quickly figured it all out. “You’re Mr. Nurmelev?”

  His captor bowed. “I am, but my correct title is Professor Nurmelev. It is my honor to meet you. I knew your father only slightly, but that was years back, and only recently did I learn of his passage.” The professor gave another slight bow. “He was a great man.”

  As sincere as the compliment had been given, it didn’t exactly make Harry feel warm and fuzzy all over. This man had to be a whack-job in the first degree, Harry thought, but he did his best to mask his disgust. “Uh, thanks.”

  Nurmelev waved off the reply. “It is true. Your father was on the verge of doing something of historic proportions, and you, his son, have carried on his good name.”

  Talk about hypocrisy! The whole thing set Harry off. “I don’t create monsters. You’re just sick!”

  His host’s smile disappeared for a fraction of a second, but it soon returned. “If you call improving on humanity sick, then you might just as well call all medicine perverted and all pharmaceutical researchers insane. I am simply improving upon what Nature has given us.”

  He turned to the bear creature. “Watch the girl.” Ivan obediently went to the prison room to stand guard and did not turn his head in their direction.

  The professor gestured with his hand to the far room. “Come with me and we will have our talk. There are many things which must be made clear to you.”

  Nurmelev led the way through the lab and through a doorway that opened up into a slightly more spacious room replete with two couches and a coffee table between them, a kitchen, refrigerator, and a television set along with a few more pieces of scientific lab material. A whole host of textbooks on biology, chemistry, human reproduction, and more sat on a shelf in the corner of the room. Harry recognized the texts. He’d read all of them.

  The scientist seated himself comfortably on a sofa and Harry took the opposite one. As he sat, he felt distinctly ill at ease, as if the madness this man possessed could somehow infect him. “Are we still in the Catskill Mountains?”

  Nurmelev spoke quietly and in the same manner as a university lecturer would.

  “Yes, that is correct. You are not too far from where you first arrived. This is a cabin which I purchased with my multiple backers’ help many years ago. The original owner passed away, his widow needed money, and it was the perfect place I’d envisioned, a place where I’d be left free to do as I wished. With some laborers I hired, we built this underground laboratory. They thought I was just building a cellar. I had other things in mind.”

  “Like these experiments, or is there something I missed?”

  The Russian laughed. “The people here think I am an eccentric retiree. I tell them that I am a former international trading company official and they believe me. My passport and other documents say the same thing. I have a car parked not too far away from here. It is American-made, something to help me fit in more with the populace. I drive into town once a month, shop for things like everyone else, and then drive home. You have not seen the upstairs yet, but it looks like an ordinary cabin with a trapdoor that leads down here. No one has ever suspected me.”

  He sat back and waited for the inevitable questions. “Your backers,” Harry said. “Are you talking about the Russian government?”

  Nurmelev slashed the air with his hand. “Fah, they know nothing! They are only good for providing money, but they have no vision, no understanding of what I am trying to achieve!” He cleared his throat in disgust for his country’s leaders, Harry imagined. “I expect I shall have to give you a history lesson first.”

  He began to talk about his early days studying at university in Moscow, his interest in chemistry and biology, and his appointment to a salaried position as a professor of biology. “It is a position and nothing more,” he lamented. “Tenure is sought after, very few obtain it, and when they do it is a dead end unless one is truly brilliant.” He sighed. “I was never that brilliant.”

  “So how did you get into the espionage game?”

  Nurmelev went on with his story and spoke of living with his parents until the age of thirty, his research, and his eventual recruitment by the Russian secret service. “Of course, the KGB is gone, but some elements remain either in security or in scientific research. After glasnost, the names of the KGB, the Spetznatz and other entities had all been besmirched, but a few true believers continued the fight.”

  Nurmelev relaxed, and Harry saw the light of nostalgia shine in his eyes. Good times, meals with killers, drinks with assassins, research on producing monsters, and now this. Then he realized the man had started talking again.

  “…they came to my house in Moscow,” Nurmelev said. “They told me I could have a place with them in their organization, and because I wished to further my studies, I accepted. They placed me in a science research position at a lab in Siberia. I was allowed to study and experiment to my heart’s content. I studied English, as the best work had always been done by American researchers, and I had the dream of one day meeting and conversing with your father.”

  His eyes gleamed with the light of someone who was either certain of his cause or certifiably crazy—Harry didn’t know which. “Did you ever meet him?”

  The professor nodded. “I did. A number of years ago, my wish came true. My backers—ex-KGB, wealthy businessmen who shared my dream, fellow scientists—sent me to the United States, and at a conference I met with your father. Like him, I saw the possibilities of using transgenic research to cure a whole host of human diseases, and after our meeting—sadly, we only had a brief time together in order to discuss the various theories—I knew this was a viable line of research. It was many years ago when you were perhaps three or four, so obviously you do not remember me.”

  No, of course Harry didn’t…but after today, he was sure he’d never forget this man…if he lived.

  Nurmelev went on to detail his early successes and many of his failures. “Even though the KGB had been officially disbanded, some loyal followers hid in the shadows of glasnost and continued their work privately, secretly. Every Russian government since the new millennia has denied its existence, but it does exist, only in a different form.

  “As for how I arrived to the point where I am now, the answer always seemed to be just out of my grasp,” he said and his eyes were still aglow, “like the star a child thinks it can touch by reaching up to the heavens. I was close…and after one outstanding experiment about twelve years ago the backers within my organization placed me here so I could continue.”

  Now it all became clear. “You mean, continue making the perfect hybrid?” Harry asked.

  Nurmelev nodded. “Exactly so, you are correct, that is exactly so. These days, people spy on each other using cyber systems. They are effective to be sure, but they can either be overridden or blocked. You can spy on one another using bugging devices, but they, too, can be discovered.”

  He rested his arms on his knees and his hands formed a steeple under his chin. “My plan was not original. Far from it, but because it was so unoriginal I knew it would work. I had a two-fold purpose in mind. First, I wished to create the perfect warrior.” He waved his hand at the door. “My bear friend, Ivan, is the perfect warrior, is he not?”

  Ivan the Russian Bear, Harry thought. Now he’d heard everything. “He doesn’t talk, does he?”

  Nurmelev shook his head. “He still has the vestiges of vocal chords, although his ability to speak is not important. During the process, in order to maximize efficiency, I considered certain areas of human development non-essential, such as speech. In crossing Ivan’s genes with those of a bear’s, he received enhanced eyesight, strength, speed and stamina, and, like Anastasia, enhanced powers of recall. He has the bare minimum in terms of intelligence. He can write down what needs to be written a
nd that is all, but his first and foremost mission is to be an efficient tracker and killer. In that, I have succeeded beyond my wildest dreams.”

  How Ivan had managed to hide remained a mystery, so he asked the professor and Nurmelev offered a brief shrug. “An animal’s instincts are to hide whenever danger is present, even so large an animal such as a bear,” he explained. “Ivan was trained to hide and did so—quite successfully, I might add—in the back alleys of New York. It is a large city, one with an infinite number of places where one might obtain refuge. The sewers are just one route. In any case, Ivan already had implanted images of where to go in that city. But always—always—his primary objective was to return here. It was never to kill you or Anastasia. He could have done so at any time. It was not necessary.”

  The explanation all made sense. Ivan had grabbed Anastasia in a bear hug and could have crushed her like he’d done with Callaghan, yet didn’t. And he’d taken an awful lot of punishment, yet he still lived. These facts solved the riddle of the Russian Bear. “So where does Anastasia fit in?” Harry asked. “And where did Doug fit in?”

  The scientist got up and went over to the fridge and pulled out two cans of Coke. He came back to the table and set the drinks down. “Please, take one.”

  As Harry let his hand dangle over the can, the scientist added, “No, this refreshment is not tainted or drugged. I use my drugs for other purposes.”

  The Coke turned out to be Coke. Harry took a few sips while Nurmelev continued his lecture. “This is where the second part of my plan began. My dream was to create the perfect spy who would be able to enter into any terrain, any area, any household, and instantly map out who and what existed there. The process began with dogs as they are more easily trained than cats, with larger craniums, more strength, and more reliability. I achieved some success with Doug, but he proved to be a little too resourceful and escaped.”

  Harry listened and the more he did, the more he wanted to lay a beatdown on this man, but he kept his rage under control. He could probably beat this man, but he didn’t stand a chance against his bodyguard. Doug had been a decent guy and he didn’t deserve to go out the way he had. Anastasia had been blameless as well and didn’t deserve to be used, either.

  The mad doctor snapped his fingers. “Pay attention, young man. This is where the tale becomes more interesting.”

  Harry nodded. Play along, get the man to ‘fess up some more—and Nurmelev obliged him. “We always had a backup plan. Just in case our initial attempts with a dog failed, at roughly the same time we started the experiments with him, we also started the experiments with Anastasia and found a distinct advantage in using felines. They are smaller, yes, but more agile, quicker in many cases, and when angered, no less vicious than canines.

  “My superiors and I were convinced that the idea of transgenics would be foolproof and our plan was hatched. They recommended using Ussuri cats. That breed of feline in Russia is very rare, but if you can find one, you will find it to be strong, fast, and intelligent. Unfortunately, their genes have been crossbred so many times that it is difficult to find a purebred. Nevertheless, living in Siberia, I managed to procure one. It is a handsome animal.”

  “I want to know who Anastasia was,” Harry demanded. “She had a life. Who was she?”

  Nurmelev stroked his chin and offered a brief smile. “She was a prostitute. To be honest, I do not even know her last name.”

  “She was a…?”

  Harry sat back, shaken by the truth, and couldn’t find any words for a few seconds. The professor stared at him through heavily lidded eyes in the same manner a snake would just before it pounced on a mouse. “You are surprised, yes?”

  “Yes.” Harry said dully, acutely depressed by the revelation of his girlfriend’s personal history. The person he’d come to care so much about, someone who meant everything to him…he couldn’t think of anything to say.

  Nurmelev shrugged and waved his hand dismissively. “Girls like that are like nothing!” He snapped his fingers sharply. “They are street trash. They serve a purpose for lonely men and that is all.”

  A light then came into his eyes and a smile, almost grandfatherly in nature, formed on his face. “Ah, now I understand. You like her.” The professor sighed and relaxed against the back of the couch. “It is to be expected, I imagine. You are both young, she is attractive in her own way, and you did not know.”

  The explanation made Harry see blood red. A mental image of him strangling the scientist entered his head and it was only with a massive effort that he restrained himself from leaping forward. “Go on,” he said.

  Nurmelev obliged him by filling in more of the blanks. “I was never given Doug’s family name, either. All the KGB provided was information on what they had been before we…” he hesitated only slightly, “changed things. Doug was a laborer who had contracted leukemia. Anastasia had developed AIDS. Unfortunately in Russia there is poor care, and even if you can find it, the cost of the medicine is prohibitively expensive.”

  He shook his head, seemingly appalled at the injustice of it all. “My initial experiments were successful, so my backers moved me from my laboratory in Siberia to one in Moscow. Doug came from a different research facility, so I cannot tell you the particulars. After searching for the right candidate all across the country, I found Anastasia at the age of nineteen in a Kiev hospital ward, severely undernourished, skinny and dying. She had come there from Siberia in order to make a future for herself. Her mother had already died from alcoholism and this girl was also on her way into death. I promised her a new life.”

  Harry felt sick at heart, not for what Anastasia had done, but what her life had become. He put the drink down and said, “So you took her, changed her, and set her loose…for what?”

  The scientist finished off his can, burped, and then tossed the empty container at a garbage can in the far corner. It clanked in, a perfect three-pointer. “For espionage, of course,” Nurmelev said. “The mixture of cat and human genes plus an influx of shark’s cartilaginous DNA cured her AIDS and also transformed her body. Once the initial transformation had taken place, we took our operation to the next level.”

  He went on to detail how they’d kept Anastasia under sedation, strapped to a gurney, fed her through a tube and indoctrinated her in the techniques of how to be a perfect spy. “It took about six months of intensive training,” Nurmelev said. “However, we succeeded. She has superior strength and cognitive skills. She is my greatest triumph.”

  Harry wondered aloud how she’d gotten here. Nurmelev offered a mysterious smile. “We have ways of getting people in. There are payoffs down by the docks. After the main experiments had been done, she was given a sedative and transported via international freighter shipping Russian-made caviar and other foodstuffs to the United States. Once there, one of our men brought her here and then her programming took over.”

  “Programming…what are you…?”

  Nurmelev laughed harshly. “It is all programming. In addition to the memory implants, she was educated in all things American. How to speak and how to act, the basic history—everything was given to her through hypnosis. She speaks English perfectly and no one is the wiser. She was given the command back in Russia to return to this place by any means possible, as was Doug. Unfortunately, his hypnotic programming broke down sooner than we expected.”

  “You don’t know why, do you?”

  The bald man slashed the air with his hand, as if to dismiss the question. “No memory wipe is perfect. The mind retains certain impressions and feelings, and sooner or later the true memory surfaces, imperfect though it may be. That is what happened with Doug and to a lesser extent, with her. She also escaped, and even if you had not happened along, then she would have eventually returned here. I did not expect her to be captured, though. The programming was obviously not complete.”

  He paused for a moment to rub his hand over his lips. “How she managed to get back to New York is a tribute to her training as
well as luck. I sent word to those on the docks to capture her at all costs. However, she evaded the handlers, and then the police happened along. I then changed my mind to let whatever happened, happen, and warned my men off.”

  “So what do I have to do with it all?”

  Nurmelev leaned forward, his reptilian stare intense. “You are just an extra in this grand scheme. As I said, we did not anticipate her getting captured. It was simply a stroke of good fortune that the FBI contacted you and brought you two together.”

  Harry felt betrayed. Luck or not, he felt as if he’d been set up every step of the way, led on, and suckered in. He swore quietly and Nurmelev chuckled. “You think you were—how do you say it—oh, yes, duped into coming here?”

  “What do you think?”

  Nurmelev shook his head. “No, neither Anastasia nor Doug tricked you. They were simply following their implanted orders. However, I am quite pleased she brought you to this place.”

  Harry grimaced, and the bald madman asked him what was wrong. “What’s wrong with this? You experimented on innocent people. Don’t you have a conscience? You’re just a whack job in a lab!”

  Now Nurmelev got self-righteous and his tone became downright condescending and arrogant. “You think too much, young man. We did what we did and I did what I did in the name of science! Yes, we changed her form. In the process,” he shrugged, “certain things such as memory and sense of self had to be jettisoned, but it was an equitable tradeoff, don’t you think?”

  “Screw your equitable tradeoff!” Harry erupted. “You turned her into something different! She’s not human and she’s not a cat, either. You ruined her friggin’ life! That’s not my idea of a fair tradeoff! What does she get out of it?”

  Nurmelev’s voice grew harsh. “She gets life. She would have died without the treatment. You may be too young to understand this, but the one thing you must learn is that no matter what the endeavor, there are always tradeoffs.”