Sky Lights

by Barclay Baker

  CHAPTER 6

  Miracles and Nightmares

  ‘Yes, sir, I am aware of the deadline,’ said John Dante as he ran his fingers through his greying hair, pushed his glasses up his nose and rubbed his hand down around his chin. He noticed with surprise how out of control his beard had grown, and wondered when he had last taken time to tidy it up. ‘Yes, sir, everything is in place. I know the press are due to observe. James is here already and in good form. Yes sir, you will hear from me later.’

  He wearily hung up the phone, slumped back in his seat and let out a sigh. He glanced down at the floor and noticed the shabby shoes he was wearing. His gaze travelled upwards, taking in his crumpled trousers and wrinkled shirt. When had he stopped taking a pride in his appearance? When had it become too much trouble? The answer was obvious. His wife had died two years earlier, just at the time when he was setting up this research facility at the Roslin Institute. He had thrown himself into his work, scarcely giving a thought to his own wellbeing.

  Great strides had taken place since the cloning of Dolly the sheep. Ideally he would have preferred more work to be done on perfecting the process before informing the world at large, but it had been taken out of his hands. Things were now moving fast, with the development of skin cell renewal and the cloning of genetically modified pigs whose organs were compatible with human tissue and could conceivably be used in the transplant market. It was at that point that Professor Dante had persuaded Sir Angus Turnbull, the head of the Roslin Institute, to allow him to set up an independent facility on the premises to work on an area even more controversial than cloning, ABRT, Accelerated Biological Reconstruction Technique. It was his area of expertise and he knew, once perfected, it would revolutionise the world of medicine.

  John Dante had been working in secret, reconstituting lost fingers and toes with great success. His new remit was to work on organ reconstitution, using the DNA of the patient. A DNA fingerprint could provide many useful components. Stretches of DNA could be copied and pieces lined up in such a way, according to size, that they could be utilised in his new technique. Today they were to go public, bringing to the press conference, James Croll, who was their star patient.

  The professor read aloud the controversial opening statement from the press release.

  ‘Today, ladies and gentlemen, we present a miracle of Biblical proportions.’ He pondered these words. Were they too strong? Possibly! He had no doubt that he was on the brink of performing miracles, but was it too early to announce this to a sceptical public?

  He got up and paced across to the window, glancing at his watch. ‘Three o’clock. Not long now.’ Then another thought intruded. ‘Wendy!’ He had been so wrapped up in his work that he had forgotten about his 15 year old daughter. He crossed to his desk and called his secretary, Maggie. ‘Hello, Maggie. Can you drop everything and get in touch with Wendy for me? She’ll be getting out of school soon and I’d like you to pick her up and bring her over here. This is going to be a long day with the press conference. I don’t want her to be alone at home, as I have no idea when I’ll finish.’

  ‘No problem,’ she replied. ‘I’ve got a break coming up. We’ll both be back here in time for your big moment.’

  ‘Thanks, Maggie, you’ve saved my life.’ John Dante picked up his notes and promptly forgot about Wendy.

  Maggie hung up, and sent a text to the professor’s daughter. Within minutes she’d had a reply and was on her way to meet Wendy outside the school.

  The three teenage girls ran down the steps of the school, still giggling about an incident in class earlier that afternoon. ‘Was that not hilarious, when Ellie asked the French teacher if she could close the window as the rain was coming in?’ laughed Emma.

  ‘She was so-o-o scared to say anything that her voice was trembling,’ replied Stacey. ‘I’m amazed she had the guts to speak at all.’

  ‘I couldn’t believe my ears when Mr. McLeod said with that dead pan expression of his on his face, ‘Bring your umbrella tomorrow, girl!’ said Wendy, trying to imitate the French master’s booming voice.

  ‘My God,’ gasped Emma, clutching Wendy’s arm. ‘You sound just like him! That’s incredible.’

  Wendy Dante, with her twinkling blue eyes and ready smile, was a popular girl at Rothes School. Today, she wore a brightly coloured hat pulled down over her ears to ward off the cold wind, but blowing freely around her shoulders was her distinctive long, curly red hair. It was that feature which distinguished her from the other girls at her school; the very feature which two scoundrels were noting from a dark van parked close to the school gates. The girls were wearing identical maroon blazers and navy pleated skirts, the uniform of the school. Each carried a backpack of books as they hurried across the playground. The rain of earlier, which had caused the hilarity, had stopped for now, but the blustery wind was gusting and the last leaves of the season were drifting over the grass to gather in heaps against the railings by the gates that the girls were now approaching.

  As they left the school premises, Emma’s mum was pulling up in her car. She drew to a halt outside the gates. ‘How was that for timing? Do you two want a lift home with us?’

  ‘Yes please,’ said Stacey. ‘I’ve got loads to do tonight as well as a big assignment to finish. I’ll get started sooner if I don’t have to wait for the bus.’

  Wendy said, ‘Thanks anyway, but my dad’s secretary is coming to pick me up today. He has an important press conference this afternoon, so I’m going to his office.’

  ‘Okay, then, see you tomorrow. Bye Wendy,’ said the girls, piling into the car.

  ‘Bye Stacey, bye Emma,’ answered Wendy with a wave.

  Wendy watched them drive off down the road. She stood alone on the pavement, hugging herself to ward off the cold. All the other pupils were long gone. Wendy and her two friends had stayed behind for a meeting with a member of staff about a joint project they were working on. Wendy knew Maggie would be on her way to pick her up. Her lips twitched again as she remembered Ellie getting wet in the classroom.

  A black van drove down the street towards her, slowing down as it came alongside. A man she had never seen before opened the sliding door and said, ‘Wendy Dante?’

  ‘Yes, where’s Maggie?’ she said.

  ‘Change of plan!’ the man said grimly. Wendy took a step back, hesitating, but the man was out of the van in a flash. He grabbed her round the arms, pinning them to her sides. She struggled and twisted in his grip, but he was too strong for her and with a mighty effort, pushed her roughly into the back of the van and jumped in beside her. Before the door was even closed the van sped off down the road and, taking the next left turn, was gone from sight in seconds.

  ‘That was easy,’ said MacStarkey.

  ‘Sure was,’ said the driver, Fitzsmee.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’ cried Wendy.

  ‘Shut your face and do as you’re told,’ snarled MacStarkey. ‘And if your dad does as he’s told, you’ll be all right. If not, it’ll be curtains for you, me fine lassie.’ Neither pirate said another word as the vehicle sped along to its secret destination.

  Professor John Dante stood on the platform in the conference room of the Roslin Institute, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. Not that he was ill at ease around the national press, but he was flanked by his superior Sir Angus Turnbull and his star patient James Croll, both immaculately dressed for this event. He still sported the crumpled clothes from earlier. The eyes of all the media people, reporters, photographers and broadcasters were on him as he cleared his throat and began his prepared speech.

  ‘Today, ladies and gentlemen, we are proud to present a miracle of biblical proportions!’ He stopped for effect. The air was full of expectancy and he was milking it as well as he could. ‘Our research has now reached a critical stage where we are able to re-constitute parts of the human body. Not only are we able to do this theoretically, but we have started the trials and are here to share our results with you this evening.’ Joh
n Dante looked round at Sir Angus and got the nod of approval that told him to proceed.

  ‘You will all be aware that certain reptiles have the ability to re-grow their tails if they lose them. We have carried out extensive experiments in order to ascertain what characteristics in the make up of these creatures allow them to do this. Without becoming too technical, I will tell you that it was a logical leap of science to bring this miracle…and I use this word carefully, for it truly is a miraculous discovery…to bring this miracle to the human race.’

  John Dante ushered forward the gentleman standing by his side. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce James Croll who recently lost two of his fingers in an accident. They were so badly crushed that it was impossible to save them. May I show you pictures of Mr Croll’s hand after his accident?’

  The professor’s assistant turned on the computer and started the power point presentation. Projected on to a large screen were photographs of the hand showing the complete absence of two of the fingers.

  ‘Behold! This is his hand before we worked our miracle. As you may be aware, our new technique is called the Accelerated Biological Reconstruction Technique, and deservedly so. Here are the pictures taken of Mr Croll’s hand over a period of only four hours.’

  The aide showed a series of photographs detailing the progressive growth of the fingers. Prominent in the top right corner was a clock, showing that the re-growth had been completed in the stated time.

  ‘Indeed it is a miracle,’ said John Dante. ‘But you don’t have to take my word for it, for here is the man himself, Mr James Croll.’

  ‘James, would you mind showing your hand to the press?’ James stepped forward and held up his hand. The scars still remained at the base of the two lost fingers, but he wiggled all five fingers at the crowd and showed off some intricate manoeuvres that were obviously no trouble to perform.

  The questions started flying from the hordes of reporters.

  ‘Are you in any pain, Mr Croll?’

  ‘How do you feel about being a guinea pig?’

  ‘Should the professor play God like this?’

  Sir Angus Turnbull raised his hand. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we are answering no questions at this moment in time. Those will keep for a later date, when you will all be permitted to interview the people involved in this momentous breakthrough. For the moment, let us just congratulate Professor John Dante on a job well done. There’s no telling what will happen next in this exciting field of medical research. Thank you, and goodnight.’

  All three men turned and exited the conference room, leaving the mass of reporters with more questions than answers. Pandemonium broke out as they sped away to get their copy written for inclusion in the following day’s papers. Inside John’s office, Sir Angus shook the hand of the young man at the centre of the furore. ‘Thank you so much James for agreeing to be present this evening.’

  ‘My pleasure, Sir Angus. I can’t thank you both enough for what you have done for me.’

  ‘I’ll show you out the back way,’ said John Dante. ‘That way you won’t have to fight your way through the paparazzi. Follow me.’

  ‘See you tomorrow at 10 for the meeting, John,’ said Sir Angus, pressing the button to call the lift to take him to his penthouse office.

  ‘Right! I’ll be there,’ the professor replied, ushering James Croll down a corridor and through the building to an exit door leading to the rear car parking area.

  As they reached it, the door burst open and Maggie came rushing in. James Croll edged past her and walked towards his car.

  ‘Oh, there you are Professor. I’m so sorry! I must have missed Wendy. The traffic was diverted due to an accident and I arrived later than the time I arranged with her. There was no sign of her outside the school. Do you think she might have gone home?’

  ‘Have you tried getting in touch with her? She probably went home with a friend.’

  ‘Yes, I tried texting her twice but there has been no reply.’

  ‘That’s strange! You know how these young folk can’t exist without texting every few minutes. I’ll just finish off here and be on my way. I expect she’s home by now. See you tomorrow, and don’t worry, it’s probably a misunderstanding. Shame she missed all the excitement this afternoon though.’

  ‘Thank you, Professor. I’ll be in sharp to help you get ready for the meeting with Sir Angus. Goodnight.’ Maggie was left speaking to herself as John Dante strode off to his office, his mind preoccupied. He promised himself he would make more of an effort with his daughter and with his appearance.

  The house looked quiet, too quiet. No lights shone inside. There was no sign of life at all. How strange! Professor Dante steered his car up the dark driveway between the swaying conifers and stopped in front of the garage. He checked the time on the dashboard - 6:40, switched off the engine and got out. Wendy should’ve been back by now. He was sorry she had missed his big day, but it was not his fault. He made his way to the front door. He wasn’t worried…yet. Wendy had any number of friends she might have gone home with. It was what young girls did, although, for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why they would want to spend more time with each other when they had been at school in the same class all day.

  ‘Oh Dad, you just don’t understand.’ Wendy would say.

  Yet it was not like her to go off without letting him know where she was. His own life might be a bit chaotic, but Wendy was not like him. She was thoughtful, disciplined and a credit to her mother. He thought again of his decision to take more pride in his appearance and to pay more attention to his daughter. He had been consumed by his work in the run up to the press conference, but now he would do something about it. Starting tonight.

  As he turned the key in the lock he was struck by the silence in the house. No music blaring. No TV. Before he even put on the light, he saw the large sheet of yellowed paper on the hall carpet. He read the message written in thick black felt tip pen. It chilled him to the bone.

  Professor Dante

  Your daughter is in our custody, and will remain so until you have given us what we want. Do not contact the police if you want to see her alive again. Meet us at your laboratory at 8 o’clock tonight.

  Remember no police.

  His heart sank. He was shocked at the threats in the note. He made his way to the back of the house, to the dining room, which doubled as an office. His hand hovered over the phone. Should he call the police? What if the threats were serious? Could he take a chance? Was he gambling with Wendy’s life?

  He put down his briefcase and switched on the desk lamp. He re-read the note and dropped it on to the table. He emptied his brief case, piling papers, pens and diaries next to it. He snatched up his mobile phone and speed dialled Wendy’s number. No answer. Hadn’t Maggie said the same? How many hours ago was that? Had Wendy been missing all that time?

  There was no doubt in his mind. No point trying to reach her friends. She wouldn’t be there. No sense in worrying them. Someone had kidnapped Wendy and they wanted something from him. It wasn’t money. They hadn’t asked for a ransom to be paid. It had to be something to do with his work at Roslyn. It didn’t take much brain power to work that out. Was it industrial spies forcing him to meet back at the institute? Were they planning to steal his ideas? News agency people were given advance notice of forthcoming announcements. He wondered who else had known about his statement. James Croll’s family certainly knew.

  The professor made up his mind. Wendy’s life was in danger. He would do whatever they asked. He only hoped that he could succeed. He stuffed some of his most recent research papers back into the brief case. He switched off the light, grabbed his car keys and let himself out of the patio doors. He ran to his car leaving the doors swinging open. His house was of no importance compared to the threat to Wendy.

  Throwing the brief case into the car, he started the engine. The gravel spurted up as the car turned in the driveway, wheels spinning. He drove at speed out into the street. Time
was short. He had to reach Roslyn by 8 o’clock. His instinct was to drive increasingly faster but he forced himself to stick to thirty miles an hour. It wouldn’t help Wendy if he was arrested for breaking the speed limit. In good time, he reached the car park of the Roslyn Institute, switched off the lights and waited to see what would happen next.

  A dark van glided into the space next to him. His heart was thumping. He heard the door slide open and saw two men jump out and approach his car. The taller figure was over six feet, with broad shoulders and exceedingly long arms. A bushy beard did nothing to hide his scowl. The shorter of the two was heavy set and walked with a rolling gait. A menacing smile played around his lips as he rapped on the side window; John wound it down.

  ‘Is Wendy here?’ he started to ask, but was cut off when a massive hand reached in and grabbed him by the throat.

  ‘Just you listen, and listen good,’ his attacker snarled. ‘We have your girl and you are going to do exactly as we say. Understand?’

  John Dante nodded his head nervously. ‘But what do you want from me?’ He was shaking and getting short of breath because of the vice like grip the man had on his throat.

  ‘You’re going to get out of the car. Then we are going into the lab to collect some things. You have a lot to accomplish before we take you to where your daughter is. I’m going to let go now and there’s to be no funny business. All right?’

  The professor nodded again and the hand released him. He got out, his tall but slight frame dwarfed by the sheer bulk of the two men standing next to him.

  ‘I need my notes.’ The professor indicated the brief case on the passenger seat. One of the men leaned in, grabbed it, and then threw it into the van.

  ‘Right let’s get inside and collect everything you’re going to need for this job. Here, give us a hand to carry these boxes.’

  Professor Dante glanced at the overhead security cameras. All of this would be recorded on CCTV but nobody was likely to look at the film until it was too late to help him. For a brief moment he considered allowing the burglar alarms to go off but quickly realised if his captors’ plans failed at this stage the person most in danger was Wendy. No, he mustn’t do anything without careful thought. Arms full of cardboard boxes, he and the kidnappers sneaked over to the back door of the Roslyn Institute and entered his workplace. The building was deserted. Balancing the boxes against the wall he turned off the burglar alarms. Reaching his research laboratory he hit a switch that activated the blackout screens at the windows and switched on the lights, safe in the knowledge that no one would know they were there.