by M. C. Miller
“None of this makes sense. What about Bolard? Do you intend to walk right up to him with the laptop and try to make a deal?”
“I’ve thought it through. I can get two safety deposit boxes when I get there. I’ll put the laptop in one and take the key to the other, empty deposit box to the meeting. If he takes the key away from me without making a deal, he gets nothing and I’ll know he’s a liar. If he’s serious, he’ll get the real key when I see Alyssa.”
“All that does is give you a false sense of security. Besides, it’s amateurish. He’ll see right through that.”
“Then give me a better idea.”
Sara raised her voice. “Go to the FBI. Go to Faye. Drop the damned laptop in a mailbox someplace and be done with it. I don’t know. Just don’t sacrifice yourself on a wild goose chase.”
“It would be easier to take your advice if I knew you could follow it yourself. I don’t think you could; not if I was the one kidnapped and you had this laptop.”
“No, you’re wrong. Rushing to do something might make things worse. And doing something foolish wouldn’t prove my love for you.” Sara got up to go. “I’ll be up at the house if you need anything.” Sara stepped out of the boathouse.
Janis was alone with her thoughts. She needed to refocus away from her mother’s objections and doubts. She gazed at the laptop screen. Ad banners flashed but she was inured to them. The title of the article she was reading attracted her eye.
“Nature’s Built-in Limitation on the Number of Times Human Cells Can Divide.” Her attention drifted down the page, catching passages here and there.
“Replicative Cell Senescence in human fibroblasts…the stopping mechanisms are poorly understood…changes in the structure of the telomeres seem to be the cause… telomerase promotes the formation of protein cap structures that protect chromosome ends… human fibroblasts are deficient in telomerase, their telomeres shorten with every cell division…their protective protein caps progressively deteriorate…the result is DNA damage at chromosome ends.”
The road to GenLET had started back in 1961 when Dr. Leonard Hayflick at Stanford University discovered that human cells could only divide a limited number of times. No more than 50 divisions were permissible by nature. Based on 50 divisions and barring lifestyle issues, Dr. Hayflick calculated that the maximum lifespan for humans, as programmed by nature, was 110 to 120 years. That was how long it took for that many cell divisions to occur in the body.
It was a natural fact that had fascinated Riya Basu. Aging was programmed in nature and human cells aged by a calculated degeneration of DNA. Somewhere, something had fashioned telomeres to be a burning fuse. As time passed and the fuse burned down, a human life would near its end. At first, cells would become more susceptible to deterioration, then organs would be less able to defend themselves, less resilient, more feeble and prone to disease. Time and DNA damage took its toll.
It was ironic. Scientists had always thought the lack of telomerase in most human cells was a protection from damaging runaway cell growth, such as what happens in cancer. Then they discovered most cancer cells had regained the capability to produce telomerase. Cancer cells maintained telomere function as they proliferated. Cancer cells didn’t undergo Replicative Cell Senescence like other human cells. Somehow cancer had figured out how to beat the life cycle system.
Janis closed the laptop. The flood of lab work she had done with Riya came back to mind. It was overwhelming. Cancer had figured out how to beat natural limits. But in doing so, it had turned itself into the unspecialized cell, a damaging law unto itself. The majesty of GenLET was figuring out how to harness the iconoclastic cancer cell, learn from it, then merge it back into the natural order in a way that didn’t turn off aging – but slowed it to a crawl. The irony doubled back on itself. Who would have ever thought that cancer, the great killer, would hold the final key to the fountain of youth?
Janis had been so deeply concentrating, she failed to notice the man at water’s edge. His movement up the shoreline had been slow but steady. Suddenly distracted, she shifted her gaze, only to find the man staring up the bank at the boathouse. A chill ran through her. She felt paralyzed but needed to run. Whoever he was, he was trespassing on Bright Hope Ranch property. There was no legitimate reason for him to approach the main house from the beach.
Janis wavered. She had no phone. She could hardly call the police even if she had one. Should she run to the house with or without the laptop? Or stay put. She might endanger Sara by leading him there.
She slid off the couch and scurried across the floor out of view of the window. She knew the bathroom’s pocket door was loose. She scampered to the bathroom doorway and buried the laptop in the wall behind the door. There was only one way out of the boathouse. The front door. Just then, a knock was heard.
Chapter 15
The Boathouse
Bright Hope Farms
The knock sounded again. This time, more playfully. Five knocks…then two.
Janis edged back into the main room, aware the stranger knew she was there. He had seen her. No way could she pretend otherwise. She paused and looked for a weapon. Should she open the door? If she didn’t, would he break in anyway?
“Janis! It’s all right. I just want to talk.” The voice sounded casual but resolute. The man knocked five times again and waited for Janis to answer with two of her own. Instead, she opened the door.
The man was not what she expected. Shorter and unimposing, he was a rumpled stray with a rugged but cartoonish face, an oddball waif in his 40s that carried the airs of an idiot savant. He wore a drab wool coat over black jeans with sneakers that had seen better days. On his head was a Black Hawk camouflage toque with built-in headphones.
“Can I come in? It’s fucking cold out here. It’s winter you know.”
Janis stood her ground. “Who are you? What do you want?”
The man blew hellacious noises into a handkerchief. “What do you want from me – soul searching? I’m Knockout Mouse. Who else would I be?”
Janis took a step back. “Knockout Mouse!”
The man invited himself in and stepped past her. “Don’t ask me to explain myself. You’re the one on the hook here.”
Janis closed the door and stood back against it ready to reopen and run.
The man gave himself a tour of the boathouse’s main room. “You should really be more careful. I imagine Eugene Mass has half of the goons in the world out looking for you.”
“I have no idea who you are. There’s no reason to believe anything you say.”
“That’s quite a declaration.” He picked up the printout of the map of Marseille with key locations pinpointed. The map was right where Sara had seen it and Janis had left it. He waved it in the air then set it back down while enjoying a little bluster.
“Don’t tell me you’re like those women in bars or clubs – oh so suspicious of the men they meet. They wouldn’t think of giving any of those men their personal information. After all, they just met and all they know is what they see. But those same women will go home and post detailed profiles of themselves online or chat with people they can’t see and gab away everything.” He dropped the map. “If only you were as cautious about your email habits.”
Janis flinched at the oversight. In her haste to hide the laptop, she had neglected to hide her research. “How did you find me?”
“It was easy once you opened this map. It contains a web beacon. It calls home when it’s opened. That call was all I needed.” Sitting down, he lounged back and got comfortable. “You’re lucky Malcolm disabled the tracker on his laptop; otherwise, you’d be in deep shit. NovoSenectus would have you strung up by now.”
“What are you doing here?” Janis remained standing at the door.
“You have no idea how important you are, do you?”
Janis said nothing.
“No, I didn’t think so. Maybe if you knew a few things it would help.”
“I’ve been told I know too
much already.”
“You can never know enough.”
“This was forced on me. It’s not my idea.”
“Join the pity party. Everyday is forced on us. It’s the curse of being alive.”
“All I want is my daughter back.”
“You don’t act like it. I think you’re lying.”
“My friends have been murdered. My daughter taken from me…”
“But you ran. That makes you look guilty – of something. For the past week you’ve been impersonating a dead man – a man with a sticky past. I knew something was screwy with that first email. It didn’t sound like Malcolm.”
“I needed to get to NCO…”
“Oh, yeah, I know why you did it. Don’t bullshit me. There’s more going on. Why the fuck are you going to Marseille?”
“I told you.”
“Like I said, you have no idea how important you are. When I found out who was emailing me, let me tell you – I had a spasm of joy you wouldn’t believe.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Riya’s dead. You are GenLET now. You can make it work. You know the dirty little secrets NovoSenectus hides in India. Only you know how to finish GenLET and make it work in mass production. You are the key to the Rapid Therapy Technique. What the hell are you doing – trading GenLET for your daughter? Maybe you already did. Is that why you need the map? Are you going there to pick her up?”
“I don’t have to tell you anything.”
“No, you don’t. But then, you won’t find out anything either. I’d rather be sitting here than standing where you are. You have no idea what’s involved – or how bad it can get. Did you hear about the merry little troupe in Malaysia? Some say they work for the Chinese. They claim they just acquired GenLET for themselves. News of it came out today. I hope you know what you’re doing. I suspect you don’t.”
“That’s preposterous! I wouldn’t give GenLET away to just anybody.”
“Even to get your daughter back? Honey, that’s the way it looks. And let me tell you, the people I represent aren’t one bit happy about it – because they stole it first. In their minds, everyone else has signed the Life Extension Non-Proliferation Treaty – in spirit, if you know what I mean. You think you pissed off Eugene Mass. He’ll have to get in line.”
“Who do you represent? Who are these people?”
“They’ve been working together a long time. I used to think they were working for something important.”
“You work for them?”
“I’ve done a little bit of everything for them over the past twenty years.”
“They have GenLET?”
“And Mass doesn’t know it. Ain’t that a bitch. The life extension club has more members than he planned. But then, you knew that was going to happen. The rich and powerful were always going to find a way to get it from him. But that’s as far as it goes. You trading it away for your daughter could blow the whole thing.”
“What thing?”
“The new class order! GenLET for the rich and global governance for everyone else. Wake up! Just because Bolard is a clueless prick doesn’t make him wrong.”
“But how can I blow the whole thing?”
“Because you don’t fucking care who you give GenLET to – just as long as you get Alyssa back. Isn’t that right? What kind of Boy Scout do you think André Bolard is? How fast do you think he’ll put GenLET on the open market? How many times can he quickly sell it before everyone realizes everyone has it? Is Malaysia celebrating too soon or did you really give it to them? I need to know.”
“Relax. Marseille isn’t about GenLET.”
“If you have a way to prove that – The Group would be most appreciative.”
“The Group?”
“They don’t have a name. Of course, they’ve had nicknames. Your boss likes to call them 8-Ball.”
Janis stepped back. Tears filled her eyes. “Oh, my God!”
“What part of that sent you ballistic?”
“You work for 8-Ball…!”
“It seems my reputation precedes me. Do we need a time out here?”
Janis jerked open the door and ran outside. In her fear and confusion, she dashed parallel to the shore, into a wooded area. Knockout Mouse chased after her. Kicking up snow as they went, they entered a small clearing a minute later. Being out-of-breath forced Janis to realize there was nowhere to go. She stopped her running but was still shaken.
Knockout Mouse kept distance from her but approached cautiously. “All right. Let’s settle down. This isn’t the Iditarod and I’m not Hannibal Lecter.”
Janis gasped for air. “Stay away from me!”
“I don’t know who told you about 8-Ball, but if it was Mass consider the source. You’re running away from him, remember?”
Janis was shivering cold but shaking from nerves. “It’s the same thing…” Janis gasped for air. With hands on hips, she walked in circles. “You want the same thing…”
“Life extension…”
“No!” Anger erupted at the evil being planned. Janis faced Knockout Mouse and shouted. “The 3rd Protocol! A ‘most equitable method of population collapse,’ isn’t that right? Zoonotic agents that preserve ‘proportional segments of ethnic diversity’ when the time comes for global pruning.”
Knockout Mouse had heard a ghost. “The 3rd Protocol?”
Janis continued on a tear. “You have it all planned, don’t you? Simulations and projections, contingency plans for post-collapse scenarios.”
He stepped up and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Where did you hear about a 3rd Protocol?”
Janis jerked away from him. “Don’t act so innocent. I know for a fact you’re part of it.”
“Part of what? Where did you hear this?”
“I read the white papers 8-Ball published. I’ve seen the plan!”
Knockout Mouse grabbed her once again. “The Group has never had any plans for a 3rd Protocol.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“What did you find out? What is Mass doing?”
“Riya saw it – that’s why she was killed. Malcolm recovered the proof. That’s why they murdered him. I guess you’re here to finish the job.”
“I came here about GenLET.”
“Are you telling me you know nothing about a 3rd Protocol? That’s a lie!” Janis started running further into the woods.
“Goddamn it! Listen to me!” Knockout Mouse gave chase. He raised his voice. “I don’t know of any 3rd Protocol – just the 1st and 2nd.”
With that, Janis halted and turned around. “1st and 2nd? There’s more?”
Knockout Mouse kept his distance. “Let’s go back and get warm.”
“Answer me! There’s more?”
He threw his arms up. “If there’s a 3rd, did you really think it would start there? Come on, we both have a few things to tell each other.”
“Why should I tell you anything?”
“Do you want to stop Mass or do you want to stay alive?”
Janis was perplexed. The dilemma left her mute.
“You might think those are your only options. Keep to yourself on this one and they certainly could be.” Knockout Mouse started back towards the boathouse.
Janis stood in place, her legs wet and cold, her arm wrapped tightly across her chest. “I would never team up with you!”
Knockout Mouse kept going but called back. “It’s mutual interest, nothing more. Fuck the team thing.”
Janis was curious. The boathouse was warm. She headed back.
Chapter 16
The Boathouse
Bright Hope Farms
Knockout Mouse made himself at home. He kicked off wet sneakers and left them to dry over a floor heating vent. He moved through the space as if he lived there. Shedding his jacket, he set to work in the kitchenette making coffee. Janis could see he was on edge and needed something to do with his energy. He spoke to himself at first, a stream of consciousness sounding as much wounded as
enflamed. Janis caught only a part of it.
“...Everyday, something new for the wicked, while paradise is always the same. Some would rather have pride in hell than share in heaven’s shame...”
Janis took a folded blanket from the couch and wrapped it over her shoulders. She stepped to the edge of the carpet where the kitchenette began and watched as Knockout Mouse gripped and re-gripped a kitchen rag as absentminded relief.
“‘Millions long for immortality who do not know what to do with themselves on a rainy Sunday afternoon.’ I wonder if Susan Ertz would have wanted GenLET.”
“Who is Susan Ertz?”
“A British author you haven’t read. Doesn’t matter. Tell me what you know about 3rd Protocol.”
“You came to me. You first.”
“Is that the way it’s gonna be? Show me yours or I won’t show you mine?”
“You work for this Group, this thing called 8-Ball. I know for a fact 3rd Protocol is based on their work. For me, that makes you complicit with Mass.”
“Mass left The Group years ago, before he bought NovoSenectus.”
“He was one of them?”
“Nine members minus one – 8-Ball.”
“It doesn’t matter when he left. The policy work done by The Group calls for population collapse. Don’t try to deny it.”
“The Group’s plan calls for Phased Population Reduction – not collapse.”
“That’s not what I read.”
“It’s not what it seems. Nothing is. A year before 9/11, the Pentagon conducted a training simulation called MASCAL. They trained for a passenger jet flying into the Pentagon. That doesn’t mean the military had advance knowledge of 9/11.”
“Some people think so.”
“All right. Bad example.”
“Why did Mass leave The Group?”
“Progress was too slow. Group successes were minimal. He thought the inconvenient truth about what was happening to the planet was a call to action – not education or legislation. Mass was the one who came up with the idea of Protocols to begin with. It was his compromise between unacceptable extremes – doing nothing or mass murder.”
