Life Sentence

by Andrew Neiderman

  Fourteen

  Simon watched the attendants roll Palmer Dorian out on the gurney and then turned to Henry Dover.

  ‘He’s a policeman. Won’t someone come looking for him?’

  ‘That’s not your concern, Simon. What is your concern is the fact that he’s here because of your miscalculations. Did you examine Bradley Morris?’

  ‘He died about ten minutes go,’ Simon said. ‘But I was able to confirm my theory about all this,’ he added quickly. ‘It’s a matter of dosages, finding the right formula. I believe I’m close now. I just need to have a little more time.’

  ‘Well, you have two new specimens with him and Gerald Spenser. For now, we’re going to have to rely on the old way of attaining guinea pigs, Simon, but there are too many people outside of our organization sniffing around, as you see. Without tangible results very soon, and I mean very, very soon, we’re going to close it up.’

  ‘Maybe we can move it all to another location, outside of the country, Mr Dover,’ Simon suggested.

  ‘I’ve thought of that, but it’s a matter of the expenses, too, Simon. If this is all some work of science fiction …’

  ‘It’s not!’ Simon replied, a little too forcefully. He knew that immediately from the way Henry Dover grimaced. ‘Do you want something for the pain?’ he followed, trying to show some concern and compassion.

  ‘Yes, you’re succeeding or getting the hell out of my life,’ Dover said. ‘Attend to your work.’

  Simon nodded and turned around. He hadn’t realized Mrs Pearson was standing there, too, and having her see him so berated brought a crimson heat into his face that was both embarrassment and anger. He marched past her and out the door. She looked at Dover and then followed.

  He didn’t want to say anything more to Henry Dover that would in any way detract from his enthusiasm for the project, an enthusiasm that was hanging on by threads as it was, but the truth was that Gerald Spenser was a terrible specimen because he had tested positive for HIV. There were too many complications with his immune system to have any sort of value in working on him. For now, he just went through the motions with him and left him in a semi-comatose state. He expected he would terminate him. However, he didn’t want to do it too soon after Bradley Morris’ death. One after another like this was too damaging.

  But this detective was another story. The moment he set eyes on the man, he felt himself chaffing at the bit. This man was a perfect specimen. Most of his specimens were sickly and dying from one thing or another in the beginning. How the hell did they expect him to make progress quickly with that, and then the inmates, although not suffering from serious ailments, were not the best possible specimens either.

  He went up to the third floor. The attendants were busy removing Bradley Morris’ body. He had no idea where they took these bodies. He didn’t ask, not because he was afraid to ask, but because he didn’t want to know. He wanted no part of anything but his work. He had to get back to that, to concentrate only on that and not bother thinking about what was going on out there. The truth was he was never very interested in what was going on out there. He rarely paid attention to any world or national news. He didn’t read any magazines other than his scientific journals. He despised entertainment news. He was happy where he was and actually feared being moved out of there more than anything. He was just too comfortable.

  Palmer Dorian was in room five. He approached it and watched Mrs Randolph and Freda Rosen preparing him.

  ‘As usual, get all his vitals to me as quickly as possible. I want to run some blood tests,’ he ordered. He could tell that Mrs Pearson, who was back at the desk, had told them both about his confrontation with Henry Dover. He saw it in the way they looked back at him, the lack of fear in their faces.

  They know I’m vulnerable, he thought, that I need them more than I pretend.

  This slippage in his hold and power over his personal assistants depressed him. He had to win back his authority and the only way to do that was to enjoy a remarkable turnaround. He vowed to do it.

  ‘I’ll begin preparing my treatments,’ he told them.

  Mrs Randolph actually smirked at his word ‘treatments’.

  Palmer moaned, but did not open his eyes.

  ‘Isn’t he regaining consciousness rather quickly?’ Mrs Randolph asked.

  ‘We can’t sedate him too long and do what I have to do to start, Mrs Randolph. You know that. Just get him strapped in and everything will be fine.’

  She nodded at the small table beside the bed. ‘His things are there,’ she said.

  He looked at it. Palmer’s identification was there, a money clip, car keys and his pistol with a small box of .38 shells.

  ‘Why didn’t they take all that?’ he demanded.

  ‘Mrs Pearson told them to remove the man in room four,’ Freda said.

  ‘There was no rush.’

  ‘Apparently, there was,’ Mrs Randolph said, obviously enjoying his displeasure.

  ‘Well, get that all out of here now!’ he ordered Freda. ‘Take it up to the desk.’

  She looked at Mrs Randolph.

  ‘Mrs Randolph can handle this herself, I’m sure,’ Simon snapped. ‘Do it!’

  ‘Yes sir,’ Freda said, stretching the word ‘sir’ sarcastically.

  He shook his head and retreated.

  When he reached room three, he heard Gerald Spenser call out and realized he was fully conscious. Mrs Pearson came out from behind the central desk, a syringe in her hand.

  ‘I have his first treatment with your formula ready, Dr Oakland.’

  “Thank you,’ he said taking it. This is a waste of my formula, he thought. I’m going to have to terminate this specimen. He entered the room and Mrs Pearson returned to the desk.

  Gerald, eyes blazing with terror, turned to him. He was strapped in tightly.

  ‘What’s happening to me?’ he asked. ‘Why are you doing this?’

  ‘We’re only trying to help you, Mr Spenser.’

  ‘What is that?’ Gerald asked seeing the syringe in Simon’s hands. ‘It’s not the same stuff you used on Bradley Morris, is it?’

  ‘Actually, it is, but it’s not for you,’ Simon told him, making a decision. He put the syringe down. He would save it for Palmer Dorian. ‘However, you know you are HIV positive,’ Simon said.

  ‘So?’

  ‘My work here has provided what is possibly a remarkable cure.’

  ‘Really?’ Gerald said calming, especially since Simon had put the syringe down.

  ‘Yes. You know enough about my work through Father Martin, don’t you? You know I’ve been experimenting with the human body’s natural immune system.’

  ‘Yes, I know. Father Martin thought it was all quite remarkable.’

  ‘Did he? We had such little opportunity to talk, he and I, but I thought he was a very enlightened and perceptive man who was not appreciated.’

  ‘Exactly. That’s all true.’

  ‘So, let me work on you a while longer and maybe we can do something nice for Father Martin. I’m sure he would have been very pleased to hear you were on your way to good health again.’

  ‘Yes, he would. He was very fond of me and knew how much I respected him. It’s just that the way I was brought in here …’

  ‘I’m sorry about that,’ Simon said. ‘Unfortunately, I don’t control that part of our enterprise. I’m just a mere scientist. I have to defer to the experts in politics, etc.’

  Gerald nodded. ‘Do you think you could undo these straps, Dr Oakland? I’d like to go to the bathroom and move about a little. Now that I know you’re going to help me, I feel so much better about it all.’

  Simon thought a moment. Where the hell could he go? He wasn’t long for this world anyway, he concluded and smiled.

  ‘Of course. Here, let me get you undone,’ he said and unbuckled the straps. ‘Just get back into bed when you’re finished. I’m preparing your first treatment. I think we’re both going to be very satisfied with the result
s.’

  ‘Thank you, Doctor.’

  ‘No problem,’ Simon said. ‘I’ll send Mrs Pearson in shortly with something cold for you to drink. I’m sure you’re hungry, too.’

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ Gerald said and swung his legs over the bed. ‘I’m a little dizzy.’

  ‘That will pass quickly,’ Simon said. He took his arm and helped him stand. ‘Get right back into bed when you’re done,’ he told him, picked up the syringe and walked out.

  Gerald headed for the bathroom, but when Simon turned his back on him, he turned as well and headed out behind him just as Freda Rosen was passing with Palmer’s things. The sight of him coming out behind Simon stunned Freda and she paused. Gerald didn’t hesitate. He lunged past Simon and ripped the pistol from Freda Rosen’s hands.

  Her scream spun Simon around.

  In room four, Mrs Randolph had just begun to strap Palmer’s legs. She heard the scream and turned toward the door. When she looked out, she saw Gerald Spenser holding Freda Rosen against himself as a shield. The attendants had left with Bradley’s body so there was no one else in the corridor but Simon. Mrs Pearson stepped out from behind the desk.

  ‘What are you doing, Gerald?’ Simon asked. ‘I’m going to help you.’

  Gerald smiled. ‘Like you helped Mr Morris? I may be HIV positive, but that doesn’t make me stupid, Dr Oakland. Get out of my way.’ He waved the pistol at Mrs Pearson. ‘You, too. Step back.’

  All Simon could think about was Henry Dover’s reaction to another of his blunders. How could this man have been so deceptive? He acted as if he believed every word.

  I shouldn’t have been so worried about telling Mr Dover Spenser was a bad specimen, worthless in fact, and should be terminated. Now look what I’ve done.

  ‘You just give us that pistol, Gerald,’ Simon said.

  Mrs Randolph had stepped back and pushed the button to alert the security guards that they had a problem on the floor. That alarm was also flashed to Simon Oakland’s office where Henry Dover was on the phone with his operatives. He was concerned now about Palmer Dorian’s partner. It was promising that he hadn’t come here with Dorian, but he wanted to be sure he was not pursuing the case any further, too.

  He picked up his cellphone and buzzed security.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘We don’t know yet, Mr Dover. We’re heading up there.’

  ‘Damn it!’ Henry cried and rose from the desk chair. His head was pounding, but he had refused any medications until he was finished with what he had to do.

  Meanwhile, upstairs, Palmer regained his senses enough to realize what was happening to him. He sat up and undid the strap around his legs as quickly and as quietly as he could. Mrs Randolph was just outside the doorway watching the scene unfold in the hallway. Palmer heard the commotion and slipped his legs over the bed. He saw his pants and shirt on the chair and went to them.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going, Gerald?’ Simon asked. He thought if he just pointed out the logic and the facts here, Gerald Spenser would surrender the weapon and all would be good again. ‘You’re too far from any place to walk to it and you’re not in any condition for all this anyway. What’s the point of doing this? We’re going to help you.’

  Gerald put the barrel of the gun against Freda Rosen’s temple and she screamed.

  ‘Easy, easy,’ Simon pleaded.

  The elevator doors opened and the two security guards appeared, both with guns drawn.

  ‘What the hell’s going on here?’ one demanded.

  ‘Easy,’ Simon told them.

  Gerald walked backwards, taking Freda with him. ‘Stay away or she’s dead,’ he cried. ‘Stay back.’

  As he retreated, Mrs Randolph stepped back in the doorway, but crouched like a panther to lunge at Gerald and pull the gun away from Freda Rosen’s temple.

  The security guards came forward. Simon stepped to the side. Gerald continued to back up.

  Henry Dover appeared when the elevator doors opened again. ‘What the hell … how the hell …?’

  ‘Just drop the gun, sir,’ one of the security guards said, ‘and you’ll be fine.’

  Gerald shook his head and took a few more steps backward.

  Mrs Randolph thought he was close enough. She lunged and seized his arm, pulling the gun from Freda Rosen’s temple. Gerald was so surprised by the action, he released the pistol and it fell to the floor. Freda dropped to the floor as well and the security guards fired at Gerald when Mrs Randolph released his arm and stepped away. They hit him in the chest and stomach and he bounced against the wall and fell.

  The security guards lowered their pistols and looked at Henry Dover.

  ‘This is just too fucking much,’ Dover told them. ‘How the hell did he get loose, Simon?’

  Simon was about to start his defense when Palmer shot forward, scooped up his pistol and rolled over to direct his fire at the surprised security guards. He hit one in the shoulder, spinning him around, and the other in the chest. No one else moved a muscle and for a moment, no one spoke.

  Palmer stood up straight, but still feeling some residual effect of the sedative, steadied himself against the wall. Mrs Randolph moved and he turned the pistol toward her. She screamed and raised her hands.

  ‘Get back in the room,’ he told her, ‘and close the door. Now!’ She did what he said. He looked down at Freda Rosen. ‘Get in with her,’ he told her and she hurried to her feet and into the room.

  He started forward. The security guard wounded in his shoulder started to stand and raise his pistol again. Palmer fired and hit him in the chest. He fell back against the wall, stunned by his own death.

  Neither Simon nor Henry Dover had moved a muscle.

  Palmer waved his pistol to the right. ‘You two and you,’ he said pointing the gun at Mrs Pearson, ‘get into that room. Go on.’

  For a moment, Henry Dover considered one of the security guard’s pistols, but then turned and walked into the room once occupied by Gerald Spenser. Simon Oakland and Mrs Pearson followed him in.

  Palmer moved cautiously down the hallway to the desk. There, he caught his breath and then picked up the telephone.

  Inside the room, Henry Dover glared at Simon Oakland. ‘Do you realize what you’ve done, all the work, all the people you’ve put at risk?’

  ‘You can stop it. You know the right people.’

  ‘Yes, I can stop it at a certain level, perhaps, but you’re finished Simon. You should think about a job in the circus working with midgets or other dwarfs. That’s about the only work you’ll ever see after this.’

  ‘Don’t … tell me that … don’t threaten me. I won’t … don’t you dare talk to me that way.’

  Henry Dover smiled at him and shook his head. ‘I should have realized at the start that you were a pathetic excuse for a human being. Despite your so-called genius, you were just too inferior to succeed.’

  ‘I’ll talk. I’ll tell them about the people you’ve involved in all this. You had better change your tone with me, Dover,’ Simon said. If he was going down, he would take them with him.

  Ironically, Henry’s rage was lit by Simon’s referring to him as Dover and not as Mr Dover. The frustration and the mess this would all now cause blinded him to anything else. He reached forward and seized Simon by the neck, shaking him.

  ‘Don’t you threaten me, you ugly, little—’

  ‘Get your hands off me!’ Simon shouted.

  Like some cornered rat, he swung his arm around, driving the syringe into Henry Dover’s stomach and pressed the plunger. It emptied quickly. Dover released his hold and stepped back.

  ‘Bastard,’ he said looking at the blood spot widen on his shirt.

  ‘Calm down, both of you,’ Mrs Pearson ordered.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Simon said, ‘but you were really choking me, Henry.’

  Dover glared back at him while Mrs Pearson attended to the wound. ‘What was in that?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Simon said holding
up the empty syringe. ‘I just poked you. Sorry,’ he said again and then like some trapped rodent, he retreated to a corner. As did the other two, to wait.

  Epilogue

  Tracy was waiting for him outside the precinct. She sat on a bench in a small public playground watching children on the swings and merry-go-round. Their mothers sat off to the right and left chatting, most of them keeping a watchful eye on their sons and daughters. The chatter of the children reminded her of birds gossiping in some estuary. It was melodic and yet chaotic simultaneously. The only urban sound their voices didn’t overpower were the occasional blaring horns coming from the taxicabs whose drivers were either impatient or showing off for their riders.

  Some of the children assumed adult-like postures when they lectured or instructed their friends. Girls pressed a hand to their hips and tilted their heads. Boys pulled back their shoulders or put both hands on their hips and wagged their heads a little.

  For a few moments in time, the world was miniaturized. How precious and how ironic these childhood moments were, Tracy thought. They were precious because they were gone so quickly and during them, you had no heavy thoughts, no pressing obligations and worries. They were ironic because you had no idea how valuable your childhood was and you continually looked forward to adulthood, impatient to be responsible for yourself and have all those privileges.

  Suddenly, for the first time really, she was overcome with a great desire to be a mother, to be guiding and molding some beautiful child, dispensing all her wisdom and experience and partaking in the wonderful discoveries alongside her child, reliving the wonder of life itself.

  It was almost as if she finally realized her full potential as a woman and that potential wasn’t assessed in the way men measured their world, not at all. It brought a smile to her face and a yearning in her breasts she had felt only in dreams. A wave of optimism washed over her, which was another irony because she was sitting here, waiting for Palmer to emerge from his cross-examination and possible severe reprimand from his superiors. He had, after all, disobeyed orders, despite the outcome, which was strangely absent from the news.