by Gennita Low
She was just tired of waiting. A body could only train so much. A mind could only absorb so much. Her well of patience was almost dry. She missed the real stuff, where the real danger was. She missed speed. This afternoon with Flyboy punctuated how out of touch she was with what she really, really loved, and that was living on the edge. No amount of training under simulated conditions would take the place of real fear. No amount of testing could take away the real unknown.
The serum was the unknown here. She was ready for the next phase.
“Miss Roston.” Dr. Kirkland joined her at the table.
“Helen.”
He smiled. “Helen. Do you need any introductions with anyone in the room? I think almost everyone is here.”
Helen looked around. She recognized most of them. “Who are those two talking to T.?”
“Dr. Marilyn Vaughn and Dr. Vasilia Kasparov. They will answer any questions you might have about the serum.”
Marilyn Vaughn didn’t look like a scientist, or Helen’s image of one, anyway. She was dressed in a black frumpy housewife-looking dress, with bright red flower-print. Her hair was combed into a Victorian-style chignon. From where Helen sat, she looked more motherly than scientist. On the other hand, Dr. Kasparov looked exactly right, with a shock of white hair and sharp, intelligent features. Helen remembered reading that he had defected from the former Soviet Union.
“Were they part of the team with the original serum?”
“Marilyn was, but Dr. Kasparov joined a bit later.”
“Who else isn’t here, then?”
Dr. Kirkland looked around and checked his watch. “Armando should be here any moment now. He’s always the last to arrive. There he is…good God.”
Helen turned to the door. She bit her lip in amusement. They weren’t kidding when they said the meeting was informal. The man they were talking about had everyone’s attention now.
Armando Chang didn’t look like a scientist, commando, or any special operative she’d ever seen. He had on a black cloak, the kind that flowed to the ground. His hair was long and a diamond stud glinted from his ear. His mixed heritage—high intelligent forehead, widow’s peak, slanted catlike brooding eyes over high cheekbones—gave him a very exotic air.
Every pair of eyes looked in his direction. The atmosphere in the room had gone considerably more apprehensive. Apparently, Armando Chang made everyone a bit nervous.
“You look like a damn vampire,” someone said.
Helen had to agree. The cloak covered him from neck to foot, and with that hair and those eyes…all he needed were red lips and fangs. He caught her looking at him and acknowledged her with something like a smile, but not quite. No fangs…yet. Helen raised her brows in greeting. With the cloak hiding his body, arms and legs, he definitely looked unworldly. Except that he had stubble. Vampires—not in any books or movies she’d ever read—rarely had five o’clock shadows.
“It’s cold out,” he said, as if that explained away the cloak, and with a swift motion, he had the front of it parted and it fell off his shoulders dramatically.
All Helen knew about Armando Chang was that he was the weapons expert of the V-Program commandos. But as she very well knew, words did not make a person. The man sauntering toward Dr. Kirkland and her, cloak draped over one arm now, walked with the air of a bad boy. Files with asterisks and notes didn’t tell her that. It was the all-black getup, the black biker T-shirt with the picture of a skull on the front, the worn and rumpled black jeans with the silver belt, legs tucked into black leather boots. Uncombed and unshaven, Armando Chang looked as if he had come to work after having tumbled some biker chick and had just thrown on the clothes by his bed. With T.’s words in mind, she wondered again how the serum had affected him.
“We meet at last,” he stated, his arresting eyes sweeping over her from the top of her head to her feet. “You don’t look anything like the picture in your file.”
“Nor do you,” countered Helen, not bothering to stand up. The one she saw showed him with a short haircut, combed to the side. Same arrogant look in those dark eyes, though, as if he thought he’d better things to do than to be there.
Or, right now, here, at the meeting. There was an air of impatience about him, even though he was standing still and acting strangely.
Acting. Her senses whispered as his gaze met hers.
He had the American accent down pat, but the file had told her he wasn’t an American. Right now, his voice held a tinge of mockery, as he subjected her to a head-to-toe inspection. “You were all glammed up in the file. Different color hair. In fact, I didn’t even think you could possibly be able to train with Special Forces, not with those pretty pink nails.”
“And you look like you’ve seen wilder days since your picture was taken, Mr. Chang,” she said coolly.
“T. has been a great teacher. I’m sure you’re just as good with deception.” He dropped the cloak on a nearby seat. “Hi there, Doc Kirkland. Didn’t mean to ignore ya.”
Dr. Kirkland gave a faint smile. “That cloak must be part of your new act.”
“Yes, I have a show later.”
Helen frowned. Act? That word had just crossed her mind moments before.
“Armando, darling.” T. appeared. “Helen, you haven’t met Armando yet. You have to see one of his shows in town one of these nights.”
“Sorry, lost me there…shows?” Maybe Bad Boy Armando played in a band.
“Armando is studying to be a part-time magician. He travels all over the world with his bag of tricks…useful for Center, of course. He’s building quite a reputation.”
“T., love, it’s illusionist.” Armando looked around. “Is Diamond around?”
“No, he isn’t.”
Armando smiled. “Good,” he said, and brought T.’s hand to his lips, his dark secretive eyes gleaming. “I have you all to myself at last…although it’s much more fun with him scowling at me across the room.”
T. laughed. “Don’t let this devil persuade you to assist him in his tricks, Hell. He has a way of making you disappear for hours.”
T. had her ways of warning her operatives. Helen didn’t need it, though. She could tell Armando Chang was a troublemaker. “Did you get into trouble?” she asked lightly.
Armando looked down at Helen. “T. always gets out of trouble. Would you like to magically disappear?”
Helen cocked her head. She should stand up. The man was issuing some kind of challenge, although she wasn’t sure what it was yet. “I didn’t mean T.,” she said softly. “I meant you. Did you get into trouble?”
Armando’s eyes didn’t leave hers as he pulled out the chair next to hers. “Assist me in my next illusion and you’ll find out.”
Helen shook her head. “I have other important things on my plate.”
“Ah, yes, you are the new anointed one, the ace up the sleeve, the fat in the fire.” His mockery was spoken in that same low tone, so that only their circle heard them.
Helen broke eye contact and turned to her operations chief, giving her an inquiring look. “Don’t tell me—he’s the poet of the V-group. You know, there’s always one in a story—the cynic with the acid tongue who throws out ambiguous lines.”
T. gave her one of her amused looks. Her amber eyes darted back to the man sitting next to Helen and they narrowed fractionally. “We’ll have to discuss Armando’s talents later, Hell. I think the session is about to start.”
Everyone had slowly moved to take a seat around the table. The two doctors sat directly across from Helen. A big screen lit up behind them with the dissected image of the human brain.
Armando leaned closer and whispered, “Here’s the scientific part.”
Helen whispered back, “All illusion, just like your area of expertise.”
“Flyboy did mention your wonderful wit,” he said with amusement, then relaxed indolently back into his seat as Dr. Vaughn tapped on the mike clipped on her collar.
After the initial welcome and introduc
tions, both scientists gave a brief presentation, using the brain chart on the screen to explain what the serum did, some of which Helen already understood. Most of the first questions by those present concentrated on the general medical aspects of synthetic biochemistry. Everyone participated with answers and suggestions, bringing up operational procedures for clarification, showing that this was the usual practice for them. Perhaps, she mused, this wasn’t a test of her, after all.
She noted that Armando Chang didn’t ask any questions or offer any suggestions. Unlike the others, he hadn’t taken any notes. In fact, looking down at his lap, she noticed he was rolling two balls in his right hand.
“SYMBIOS research uses controlled substances to create the necessary chemical that will bind with opiate receptors at different sites of the central nervous system—the brain, the brain stem and spinal cord—thus altering both perception of and emotional response to pain through an unknown mechanism.”
“Why unknown?” Helen asked. Out of the corner of her eye, she now counted three balls rolling around in Armando’s hand.
“We don’t really understand exactly how the drugs work, Miss Roston, even though they do work,” Dr. Vaughn replied.
“It’s very normal,” Dr. Kasparov said, in a heavy accent. “We still don’t comprehend much about the human brain, how even something like an over-the-counter drug inhibits or blocks certain brain responses. It’s often explained as ‘through an unknown mechanism.’”
That was very reassuring, Helen thought. But she had to agree on one point—the brain was the power behind all mysteries. How else would one explain away a phenomena such as remote viewing? “What can I look forward to once it’s in me?”
“It increases your pain threshold by producing analgesia that blocks your pain receptors. It’s antianxiety. It acts on the limbic system, thalamus and hypothalamus of the CNS to produce hypnotic effects. It also blocks serotonin and motor neurons,” Dr. Kasparov explained.
Did they talk like that when they were in bed with their lovers? “In other words, I feel less pain, less fear, and need less sleep,” Helen stated. She checked Armando’s hands again. They were empty. She glanced up quickly. His eyes mocked her silently.
“Hypothetically, yes.”
Oh, great, it was back to theorizing again. “Do you have a success rate?” she asked. Remote viewing had success percentages depending on how advanced the viewer was.
“We have had certain success with SYMBIOS 1. I must also add that I have had the opportunity, while under two other agencies, to study their chemical work. They’re working on different recipes and producing different results with synthetic serums.”
“This is SYMBIOS 2, Helen,” T. said. “Everything depends on your chemical and biological reaction to it. Dr. Vaughn and Dr. Kasparov have double-checked your charts.”
When they were discussing whether to take on the contract, Helen had gone through all the precautionary medical tests to make sure she didn’t have any unexpected allergies. GEM had outlined all the possible scenarios that could happen to her should the drug fail.
Another intuitive flash zinged through her mind. She glanced around the table and caught many pairs of eyes covertly watching Armando Chang as Dr. Kasparov gave another dry summary of the medical dangers that could affect her mind. If he was aware of the attention, he didn’t show it. He was staring at the pad on the table for his notes. Helen looked at it and was startled to find some sort of sketch on it. How the hell—she hadn’t seen his hands on the table. Okay, time to end this.
“My question, then, is what happened when the V-Program commandos took SYMBIOS 1? And I understand Agent Chang is going to explain about SYMBIOS 2.” Helen swirled her chair to face Armando Chang. She chewed on her gum and snapped it noisily. “End of science part.”
He rubbed the stubble on his jaw as he studied her. He then nodded. “And now we talk of the magic part. What it did. Specifically, to me.”
He stood up and walked deliberately around the table to stand in front of the video screen. He turned and somehow managed to fit the profile of his face in front of a section of the brain on the screen, giving a very absurd and yet, telling, image. Helen looked at everyone carefully. They seemed to be holding their collective breath as if they were waiting for an explosion. After a moment, Armando turned and pointed to several places on the dissected image of the brain.
“Abracadabra. Just words. They tell you it’s going to affect this and that, here and there.” He tapped his forehead. “Magic. Illusion. You see and feel its effect, yet you keep telling yourself there’s a trick in the whole thing.”
Armando opened his hand and a small fiery ball appeared to glow in his palms. He blew on it and it went out immediately. He stared at his empty palm fiercely for a few seconds. Someone coughed nervously. Helen was beginning to see what T. was talking about.
“I don’t think Miss Roston wants to see any illusions right now, Armando,” Dr. Vaughn said. “We know you’ve had some trouble with SYMBIOS 1 and then we switched to SYMBIOS 2, but as long as you don’t go into Psych to deal with it, we can’t help you.”
She hadn’t imagined it, after all, Helen thought. There was some kind of tension in the room, hidden behind the relaxed discussion, and the man causing the uneasiness was Armando Chang. Even T. was watching him very carefully.
“I’ve been to Psych,” Armando said. His wry grimace was dismissive. “A waste of time. First they play with your brain, then they play with your thoughts. Besides, I passed all their tests, minus a few headaches. I apologize, I forgot to behave. Miss Roston, ask your questions. Although I’m relatively new among my peers, I assure you I know what I’m talking about, or they wouldn’t have wanted me here. The two words to fear—synthesize and assimilate. However, now that I’ve met you…I don’t think you can be frightened away that easily, can you?”
“No. Is that what they fear you would do?” Helen asked.
“They fear I would make you disappear.” His face unexpectedly broke out into a smile of pure amusement, transforming the cynical bad boy expression for one unguarded moment. It was gone before Helen could release the surprised intake of breath in her lungs. He put his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Quickly, quickly, before I disappear.”
The man was walking a fine edge, although Helen had yet to figure out what the two points of that edge were. He was obviously ordered to show up here. His reluctance was very subtle, but she felt it. T. had a lot of explaining to do.
“What did both the serums do for you? Specifically SYMBIOS 2.” Since she would have that injected into her….
“For me?” Armando straightened up, steepling his hands under his chin. His eyes were hooded. “Well, for me, once I had the misfortune of being in the way of a bullet which left me with a severely bleeding leg. I didn’t feel the pain I should have. Instead I was able to carry on with the mission without limping, or if I did limp, I didn’t notice. I should add that the operation included a five-mile hike.
“Then there was the time when I was caught between two warring hostile parties fighting over a shipment of illegal arms. My job was to destroy the shipment, but you can imagine the fireworks flying around me while this was happening. For me, that moment to make the decision as to what my next step was…”
Armando closed his eyes. With his hands still clasped together under his chin, he looked as if he was praying. “It was perfect. Like executing a perfect three and a half somersault dive.” He opened his eyes and gazed directly at Helen. “Like making everyone believe you sawed a girl in half. Like making a perfect two-hundred-miles-per-hour pass of a rival race car for the checkered flag. It’s a high that’s quite memorable. I’m sure it will do similar things for you.”
Helen didn’t blink. Yet another racing reference for the day. She chewed her bubble gum thoughtfully, ignoring the avid attention that was on her now. “I read the possible adverse reactions—headaches, dry mouth, disorientation. Did you suffer from these side effects?”<
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“There are always side effects to drugs.” He lowered his hands.
“I know that. But did you have any that you would like to share with me?” She lowered her voice a notch, arching one brow mockingly, as she touched his notepad lightly, suggestively.
Standing there in his black T-shirt and jeans, thumbs through the loops of his belt, he didn’t seem so strange. It was only when he moved, or when he spoke, that somehow jarred with that bad boy image. It gave Helen the odd feeling that his mind wasn’t totally there.
Armando looked at her hand lying on his notepad. “The effects vary. Alice in Wonderland had Alice taking pills. The first time, she went very small. Later, the magic pill made her huge. Yet she was never fearful of her situation or was aware of how disorienting her sudden change in size was. I think she was on the SYMBIOS potion myself, but saying it was magic simplified the procedure.”
Helen relaxed in her chair. “Thank you. Your answers helped tremendously.”
“That’s all? Dismissed already by the High Priestess? The mantle has been passed on, just like that?” Armando mocked. “Don’t you want to know more? There’s always more.”
She shrugged. If she wanted direct answers, she had to find another way to get to Mr. Chang. He wasn’t going to share in front of an audience. “You’ll be around for questions later, right?”
“Affirmative. Later can be better.”
“Thank you, then.” She gave the group a smile in an attempt to break up the awkward silence. She had a feeling they were playing audience, keeping quiet as they watched the two of them. She caught T.’s eye an instant longer before moving on. “Is it my place to just get to the operation specifics themselves so we could end this meeting earlier? I need some time to myself. Can I talk to someone to move the Psych session?”
