by Bill Myers
“You mean — I’ll be worse?”
O’Brien didn’t answer. The verdict hung heavy in the room. Coleman had no idea how long the silence lasted before the man continued. “Perhaps in a few months, maybe in a year, they can find —”
Coleman exploded: “I don’t have a year! I need it now!”
There was another moment of silence as Coleman took a deep breath and fought for control.
O’Brien waited, then softly repeated, “I’m sorry.”
Coleman stood lost, unsure what to do. Finally he moved across the room to the sofa near O’Brien and sank into the cushions.
O’Brien shifted uncomfortably. He glanced at Coleman, then quietly ventured, “Still, I wouldn’t give up. Not yet.”
Coleman looked at him.
“I mean, you still have a will.”
Coleman continued to stare, waiting for more.
“It’s true, we all have a proclivity toward certain behaviors, we all inherit programming from our parents. But we’re not computers. We still have a will. And in many areas that will has proved stronger than any of our genetic hard wiring.”
Coleman frowned. “What about Murkoski’s research? What about all those studies he rattles off?”
“There’s plenty of evidence to back him up, certainly. But there is other research indicating that how we’re raised may carry as much of an influence as our genetic heritage.”
“How we’re raised?”
O’Brien nodded. “We’re not shaped only by the nature of our chemistry, but also by the nurturing of our parents.”
Coleman deflated slightly and muttered, “Strike two.”
“But there’s a third element.” Coleman looked at him. O’Brien continued, “Our personal philosophy, what we believe, internally.”
“That makes a difference?”
O’Brien nodded. “Absolutely. Take male primates. By nature, they tend to be sexually promiscuous. But through the course of history, we humans have learned the value of fidelity — the emotional values, the social values — so our belief has modified our natural behavior.”
Coleman nodded, slowly understanding.
O’Brien continued. “The same can be said about crime, or violence, or addictive behavior. We have learned that the long-term consequences outweigh the momentary gain, so we modify our behavior.”
“What about the druggie who can’t stop doing drugs, the alcoholic who can’t stop drinking — the killer who can’t stop killing?” Coleman held O’Brien’s eyes, waiting for an answer, but O’Brien faltered. It seemed a simple enough question — if there was an answer.
Coleman tried another route. “You said ‘belief.’ What about faith?”
“Faith?”
“If we can’t do it on our own, what about turning to someone we believe can help us?”
O’Brien paused to consider the thought. “It’s certainly a consideration. We all know people who have been changed through a religious experience.” He looked to Coleman. “You think that’s a possibility?”
“I don’t know.”
O’Brien frowned, thinking it through. “I’m certainly not a theologian, but it would seem —”
“I’ve got him!” Katherine called from across the room.
Coleman was immediately on his feet, crossing to the desk. O’Brien was right behind, asking, “Who? Who do you have?”
“Her boy.”
By the time they arrived, Katherine’s hands were flying over the keyboard.
>HONEY ARE YOU OKAY? DID THEY DO ANYTHING TO HURT YOU?
The answer came back tortuously slow.
>IM FINE. CANT TALK LONG. INTERESTING FILES.
Katherine immediately responded:
>WHERE ARE YOU? DO YOU SEE ANY LANDMARKS? HEAR ANY SOUNDS?
>DONT WORY. I’M COMMING HOME TOMROW MORNING. THEY PROMISE. RIGHT AFTER THE SHIPMENT.
>WHAT SHIPMENT?
>THERE COMING GOTTA GO.
>ERIC, DON’T GO. ERIC?
But there was no answer. She tried again:
>ERIC!
Nothing. All three stared at the screen.
Coleman was the first to speak. “What shipment is he talking about?”
O’Brien didn’t answer, but slowly turned and started back to the sofa and chairs. Coleman and Katherine exchanged looks, then followed.
“That explains why they’re holding your boy,” O’Brien said, almost to himself. “They can’t afford any more delays before shipping the drug, so they’re holding your son to prevent you from going to the police.”
“What drug?” Coleman asked. “What are you talking about?”
O’Brien slowly sat, then looked at his hands a long moment. Finally he began.
“Originally we thought — we thought we were doing so much good. We were going to change the world, change the human race.”
Carefully, in painful detail, he told of the death of the mice, the regression of Freddy, the murder of Wolff. He explained how instead of creating a compassionate race, Murkoski had taken over and developed the antisense gene to create conscienceless killing machines. A gene that, according to Eric’s newest information, was scheduled for shipment tomorrow morning.
As the minutes dragged on and O’Brien’s explanation became increasingly bleak, Coleman found it more and more difficult to contain himself. When he could stand no more, he waved O’Brien into silence. “So, what are you doing to stop it?” he demanded.
O’Brien looked at him sadly, then shook his head. “There’s nothing I can do. There’s nothing anybody can do.”
Coleman was on his feet again, pacing in rage. “What are you saying? There’s nothing we can do? I don’t believe that. I don’t believe it!”
“Coleman… ,” Katherine warned.
“How can you say that, after all you’ve done?”
“I’m sorry,” O’Brien said.
“You’re sorry!” Coleman repeated incredulously. “You’re sorry?”
Katherine rose and moved closer. “Coleman, if he says there’s nothing we can do, then —”
“The man creates a drug that can turn us into killers, and he says there’s nothing he can do?”
“I —”
“What are you going to do when it falls into the wrong hands? How is ‘I’m sorry’ going to cut it when some terrorist gets it? Or some crazed third-world dictator?”
“You don’t think I’ve thought of that?” O’Brien answered. “You don’t think an hour hasn’t gone by without that crossing my mind?”
“And you’re doing nothing?”
O’Brien hesitated, then glanced over at his suitcases.
“Of course you’re doing something,” Coleman said. “You’re running away.”
O’Brien rose unsteadily to his feet, trying to defend himself. “He shut me out of the company. He’s planned this for months. There’s nothing I can —”
“What about the truck or whatever they’re shipping it in? Couldn’t we blow it up?”
“That would just cause a delay. He’d only cultivate and harvest more.”
“From what?” Katherine asked.
“The genetic material in the lab.”
“And if that was destroyed?” Coleman asked.
“He’s got hundreds, thousands of samples; plus, the genetic code is in all of the lab computers.”
“What about outside laboratories?”
O’Brien shook his head. “No, we’d never do that. There’s too great a potential for a security breach. That’s why he’s in such a hurry to get it out now, before any leaks occur.” He turned to Katherine. “That’s why he’s holding your son. By preventing you from going to the authorities, he’s ensuring that the shipment won’t be delayed by some sort of investigation.”
“I don’t understand,” Katherine said. “Why the big rush?”
“Every day he holds this drug, the chances of it being stolen or leaked to others multiply. Today it’s worth billions. But as soon as it’s duplicated and pirate
d, it’s worth nothing. So you see the risk — if Murkoski is forced to sit on this for a few months, it may become worthless.”
“What about patents?” Katherine asked.
O’Brien shook his head. “Nobody will honor patents when it comes to this. Genodyne has a window of months, perhaps a year, to make their fortune before individuals and governments start pirating it.”
“You’re saying that any Tom, Dick, or Harry will be able to duplicate this stuff?” Coleman demanded.
O’Brien nodded.
Coleman pressed his aching head with both hands. “And you don’t think that’s worth stopping?”
“I didn’t say that. I said there’s no way to stop it. Outside of destroying every sample —”
“How would we do that?” Coleman interrupted.
“What?”
“Destroy the samples. How do you kill DNA?”
“Heat, I suppose. It’s like any living organism. But you can’t just go in and torch a few test tubes.”
“Why not?”
“As I said, there are thousands. The entire third floor is dedicated to this study. That’s eight separate labs. You’d have to literally go into each laboratory, pull out all the samples, and destroy them.”
“That’s it?” Coleman asked.
“And the lab animals. The mice, the baboon, you’d have to destroy them all.”
“And that would take care of it?”
O’Brien turned to Katherine. “He can’t be serious!”
Katherine kept her eyes fixed on Coleman. “Is it possible? Is that something you could do?”
“You can’t just burn the place down,” O’Brien argued. “You’d have to be sure every single sample is destroyed, nothing overlooked. You’d have to generate a lot of fire in a contained area. You couldn’t miss a single sample.”
“No problem,” Coleman said.
O’Brien stared in disbelief.
“There’s plenty you can learn in prison, Doctor — if you take the time to ask the right people the right questions.”
Katherine turned back to O’Brien. “What about the computers? You said the map of the gene is in the computers?”
“Yes.”
“But nothing outside Genodyne?”
“That’s right, that would be far too risky.”
Coleman turned to Katherine. “Is that something you could take out, the computers?”
“Maybe.” She sounded less sure than Coleman. “If I introduced the right virus I might be able to wipe out the entire system.”
“We’ve got backup disks in the vault,” O’Brien said.
“You’ve got the combination?”
“An old one. Murkoski changes it occasionally.”
“It’s a steel vault?” Katherine asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you have a 220 outlet nearby?”
“A 220 outlet?”
“Like for a stove or something.”
“There’s a lunchroom just down the hall.”
“That would help you get into the safe?” Coleman asked.
Katherine shrugged. “In a manner of speaking.”
O’Brien shook his head. “I can’t believe what you two are saying.”
Coleman turned to him. “Tell us everything we would need to know.”
“It’s impossible.”
“If you’ve got any other suggestions, I’m open.”
O’Brien glanced at his watch. “You’ve got eighteen hours before dawn, before he loads up his shipment. You don’t know the layout of the building, you don’t know the security — breaking into a place like Genodyne isn’t exactly like breaking into the local gas station. This is crazy talk.”
Suddenly Coleman sprang at O’Brien, grabbing him by the throat and shoving him against the wall. Katherine cried out, but he barely heard. He was in O’Brien’s face, spitting out the words. “I’m crazy? I’m crazy? You’re talking about turning people into killing machines, and I’m crazy!” His grip tightened as he raised O’Brien off the floor a good six inches.
O’Brien coughed and gagged, but Coleman ignored him, his senses tightening, aware only of his own breathing and the pounding of his heart in his ears.
“Coleman!” Katherine screamed, but he heard nothing.
O’Brien kicked and fought to get free, but Coleman’s grip was iron.
Then from somewhere far away, he began to hear Katherine’s voice. “Coleman! Coleman, you’re killing him!”
He felt someone pounding on his back, beating his shoulders. “You’re killing him! Stop it!”
Angered at the distraction, he looked back — without letting go of O’Brien — and fixed his rage on her.
It was then he saw the terror in Katherine’s eyes. Terror of him. The look hit him hard, shocking his system. Sounds returned. He could hear O’Brien coughing. Turning back again, he saw the deep crimson of the man’s face.
Katherine’s voice grew louder: “You’re killing him, you’re killing him!”
Coleman released his grip and O’Brien slid down the wall, coughing and gasping for breath. Coleman looked down, frightened and breathing hard himself. Things were getting worse, no doubt about it. Yet somehow, he suspected that he might have made his point.
At 5:34 that afternoon, O’Brien finally looked up from the blueprints of Genodyne that were spread out across the dining-room table. “That’s it,” he sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “That’s everything I can think of.”
Coleman stared first at the diagram and then at the legal pad of detailed procedures he had carefully written out. Everything was there: security policy and routine, the lab locations, all the storage areas, the location of the vault, the overhead fire extinguisher system, the location of the lab animals — plus any possible areas where Eric might be held, if he was being held there at all. It had been an exhausting afternoon, but Coleman felt confident that they had covered every angle. There was still plenty that could go wrong, but at least they had a plan.
“What time is your flight?” Coleman asked.
O’Brien glanced at his watch. “I can still make it, if I hurry.”
Coleman nodded. “Go ahead.”
O’Brien hesitated, then scanned the legal pad one last time. “That’s everything, I’m sure of it.” He glanced up. “But if you need me to stick around…”
Coleman shook his head. “No, it’s better that you go.”
O’Brien nodded, then rose and headed up the stairs.
Coleman closed his eyes, trying by sheer will to force out the relentless pain in his joints and the pounding in his head. The viral leash was definitely doing its job. When he reopened his eyes, Katherine was staring at him from across the table.
“Why are you going through all of this?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“If I were you, I’d cut my losses and hightail it into the mountains and disappear forever.”
Coleman shrugged, trying to understand it himself. “I guess…I don’t know. All of my life, it’s like I’ve only taken. And now, for once, I just want to …” His voice trailed away as he realized how inadequate this explanation was. He shook his head. “I’m not sure…”
Katherine almost smiled. “Sounds like part of that gene is still working.”
“What about you? You don’t have to do this. Just show me how to knock out those computers and the disks —”
“I would if I could trust you.” That slight trace of a smile had disappeared. “But they’ve got my baby, and I’m not trusting you or anybody else anymore. If he’s in that building, I’m going to get him myself.”
Coleman nodded, feeling the returning sense of sadness. Things would never again be as they had been. The wall between them would never again come down.
O’Brien headed down the stairs, slipping on a jacket. He tossed a small magnetic card onto the table. “This is my I.D.,” he said. “I’ve got another if you need it.”
Coleman shook his head, and O�
��Brien continued. “With that and the PIN you have written down, you’ll be able to enter any room in the building.”
“If Murkoski hasn’t changed the code,” Katherine said.
“I doubt he’s had time. Besides, he knows I’m leaving.” He turned to Coleman and asked one last time, “You’re sure there’s nothing else you need from me? We’ve covered everything?”
“As far as I can tell.”
“I could stay behind an extra day, if you think I can help.”
Coleman shook his head. “No, go to your family. Do everything just like you planned. There’s always the possibility that Murkoski is still watching you.”
“If he’s watching me, he knows you’re here.”
“Our car’s four blocks away.”
O’Brien nodded, then turned and headed for his suitcases. He picked up the three bags and started for the door. Coleman followed.
“So honestly,” he asked, as he followed O’Brien into the tiled entry hall. “What do you think our chances are?”
“Honestly?” O’Brien asked. He paused a moment to weigh the question. “Honestly, I hope you’re right about this faith thing. Because it looks to me like you’re going to need all the help you can get.”
CHAPTER 15
COLEMAN AND KATHERINE BEGAN their shopping spree in the early evening. Most of the stores in the Arlington area were closed, but Coleman was used to shopping at all hours, with or without anyone’s permission.
Katherine, on the other hand, insisted on keeping track of each broken window and smashed lock, along with the estimated retail value of every stolen item. Maybe it was the fact that she was a struggling retailer herself, or that she had been married to a cop. For whatever reason, she had promised herself that when it was all over they would eventually pay for whatever they smashed or stole.
The first break-in was at Dr. Tolle’s Family Dental Practice. Nothing of real value would be missing. No dental equipment, no computer, no petty cash — nothing but one size E nitrous oxide tank and some surgical tubing.
Then there was the two-hundred-foot roll of ten-gauge Romex electrical house wiring, the five-gallon gas can, the ax, the roll of duct tape, the 220-volt extension cord, the timer, and the hank of #6 white braided cotton clothesline — all courtesy of Burnett’s Hardware and Lumber. That left only the large box of Ivory soap flakes and the five gallons of gasoline, both of which Katherine felt obligated to purchase in a more orthodox fashion.
