by Nick Carter
Out in the hall I looked at my badge. My name was Heinz Kruger and I was assigned to Department F, whatever that meant. I wondered how close to Dr. Z and Li Yuen that would get me. I moved down the corridor toward the far end, where there were large swinging doors. A young woman with spectacles came out of a side corridor, glanced at me and spoke in English, which apparently was the second language of the facility.
“Good morning,” she said as she passed, giving me a second look, as if she wondered why my face was not familiar.
I snatched a glimpse at her badge. “Good morning to you, Miss Gomulka.”
The use of her name seemed to reassure her, and she smiled briefly as she moved on. I did not look after her. I walked quickly down to the end of the corridor and the double doors.
The long room I entered was a ward, the beds filled with Arabs and a few black Africans. They looked like the flotsam of their world or any world. And they all looked very sick.
I glanced down the aisle between the beds and saw a male nurse giving a shot of something to a patient. The nurse glanced at me and nodded but paid no further attention. I returned the nod and moved down the aisle in the other direction. What I saw made my stomach turn.
There was no attempt to keep the bedding clean in this ward or even to keep litter off the floor. And it was clear that the men in these beds were not being medically treated, since many of them had the open sores and malnutrition they had been brought here with. But there was something about them that was much more unnerving than these visual marks of neglect. These people were deathly ill. Their eyes had a dull, bloodshot look, their skin was flaccid and dry, and many of them were in obvious pain. They moaned constantly and asked for medication as I passed. One bony black man lay motionless on the bed, his soiled sheets kicked off. I walked over and looked at him. His eyes were open and glazed over. His tongue protruded halfway from his mouth and was swollen and dry. His face had been wracked with the marks of excruciating pain, and there was almost no flesh on his body. I touched his wrist. The man was dead.
So that was what was going on in there. These poor devils were being used as human guinea pigs. They had probably been picked off the streets of villages with the promise of clinical treatment and then brought to the lab to be experimented on. They had been injected with Omega and represented final proof of Zeno’s success.
My insides twisted up, thinking about what these wretched men had been put through. As I stood looking at the corpse, I thought of a large city in the United States after the Omega Mutation had struck. Gray-skinned men and women dying in the streets, unable to get help, writhing in agony, hollow eyes pleading for mercy, dry lips mumbling for some miracle to end the suffering. Hospitals clogged with groaning victims, the staff itself unable to function because of the attack of the disease. Government offices closed, transportation and news services inoperable. No trucks or planes moving to get precious medicines to the hospitals.
“Can I help you?”
The voice startled me, coming as it had from just over my left shoulder. I toned and saw the male nurse standing there. His voice was high-pitched, his manner saccharine.
“Oh. Just taking a look at results,” I said. “How is everything proceeding this morning?”
“Quite well,” he said in an effeminate tone. He was trying to remember me, like the girl in the hall. “We have several third stages now, and the symptoms are remarkable. It appears that the en-tire procedure requires only about four to five days to termination.”
This man had to know what was really happening. He wasn’t one of the dupes, so he was more dangerous to me. “That’s good,” I said authoritatively. “You have a terminal over here.” I pointed to the dead man.
“Yes, I know,” he said. He looked me over with cold appraisal.
“Well, have a good morning,” I said briskly. I turned to walk away. Then his voice stopped me again.
“Why are you wearing Ringer’s badge?”
My mouth went dry. I had hoped I could avoid this kind of confrontation. I let Hugo slip into my palm as I turned back to him. I looked at the badge.
“Oh. I borrowed a coat of his and forgot to take the badge off. I’m glad you saw it.”
“You’re new here, aren’t you?” he asked.
“That’s right. I’m Derek Beaumont. Brought to the project under Dr. Zeno’s orders just last week.”
“Yes. Of course.”
He didn’t believe me. I sensed he was just waiting for me to leave, so he could get on the inter-com. I had no choice. I stepped a bit closer. “Well. See you around.” I clapped him on the shoulder heartily and moved my right hand forward in a quick thrust to his rib cage. His eyes saucered as the cold steel entered, then he fell heavily against me.
I replaced Hugo and dragged the limp figure to a nearby empty bed. There were at least a dozen pairs of eyes on me as I threw him on the bed, but nobody made any attempt to cry out or move in my direction. I threw a sheet over the limp figure and strode hastily from the ward.
I moved down a side corridor to the left. There were few doorways there. When I got down to the end, there was a closed door with a simple sign on it: DIRECTOR. No admission.
This had to be Li Yuen’s office. I hesitated a moment, wondering what my next move should be. I could run into so much trouble there that I’d never find the lab or Zeno. But I decided to take that chance.
I opened the door and stepped into a reception room. A secretary sat at a desk, a Chinese woman in her forties, and a big, husky black African stood guard just inside the door. Another door, to my right, led into the private office of Li Yuen.
The guard looked at my badge but made no comment. The woman looked up, smiled uncertainly and spoke. “May I help you?” Her English was excellent.
“I must see Li Yuen,” I said.
She scrutinized my face. “I don’t believe I know you.”
“I’ve just joined the research team. Kruger. Perhaps the director has mentioned me to you.” I was going on pure bluff again. I had to use Kruger’s name because the black man had already seen the badge. I could only hope that this woman was not too sure who Kruger was.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “But I’m afraid Mr. Li is in conference with Dr. Zeno at the moment. May I ask what you wish to see him about?”
I searched for a plausible answer. “The computer found a small discrepancy in data. Li Yuen asked me to come directly to him in such a situation.” I was implying that Zeno was being by-passed.
“Yes, I see,” she said, her face impassive. “Well, Mr. Li will be finished shortly, I believe. You may wait if you wish to.”
“Yes, thank you.”
I sat down on a hard chair, planning my next move. The first problem was removed without any action on my part.
“Bomboko,” the Chinese secretary said, “would you please deliver this file to Department C? Mr. Kruger and I shall guard the inner sanctum during your brief absence.” She gave me a small smile.
The big black man glanced sourly at me and took the manila folder she handed him. “Yes, memsahib.”
He gave me another look as he passed, and disappeared out the door. As soon as the door closed behind him, I pulled out Wilhelmina and aimed it at the woman’s head.
“I’m sorry to take advantage of your misplaced trust,” I said. “But let me assure you that if you make the slightest sound or attempt a warning of any kind I will shoot you.”
She sat rigid at the desk as I walked quickly around in back of her to be sure she had no warning buzzer. I noticed a large metal cabinet with full doors on it. I opened it, and there was little in it except for a first aid kit on a high shelf. I got it out, put it on the desk and opened it. There was a roll of tape inside.
“Tear a six-inch length off and place it over your mouth,” I told her.
She followed orders carefully. In a moment she had the tape across her mouth. “Now get into the cabinet.”
She got in, and I turned her back to me, grabbed her
wrists and wrapped some tape around them, binding them together. “Try to stay quiet in there,” I said. I closed the door as she squatted on the cabinet floor.
I moved over to the door to Li Yuen’s office. I put my ear against it and could hear the two voices inside quite distinctly. The first voice was American; it obviously belonged to Damon Zeno.
“You don’t seem to understand, colonel; my work is not yet complete.” There was undisguised irritation in the voice, which had a nasal tone to it.
“But you have accomplished what we brought you here for, surely,” the high, slightly metallic voice of Li Yuen came through. “You have created the Omega Mutation.”
“My experiments are not yet proved to my satisfaction,” Zeno argued. “When we send our report to Peking, I want to be sure of what we have done.”
“You do not accept the findings of your own difficult labor, doctor,” Li Yuen said in an unchanging, unmodulated voice. “One can be too great a perfectionist”
“The Omega Mutation will be the most effective biological weapon ever created,” Zeno said slowly.
“It will make the hydrogen bomb obsolete.” There was a short pause. “But I will not send unfinished work to Peking!”
“Peking thinks you go too carefully, Dr. Zeno,” Li Yuen said in a tougher voice. “There are those who wonder whether you are reluctant to deliver the weapon now that you have created it.”
“That is utter nonsense,” Zeno protested harshly.
“Laboratories are standing ready all over China to start work,” Li Yuen went on. “They will be able to culture a significant quantity in a matter of weeks, thanks to your change in the genetic structure that allows rapid reproduction.” There was a rattle of paper. “I have a message from my superiors, doctor, suggesting that you forward your findings and cultures immediately and allow our laboratories to begin the breeding while you continue to work on the final proofs here.”
“But that’s not the way it should be done!” Zeno protested loudly. “If I find a flaw in the present mutation, the work they do in the meantime will go for nothing.”
“Peking is willing to take the chance,” Li Yuen’s flat voice came through the door. “They ask, doctor, that you have your report ready to send to them within twenty-four hours. They will have Chinese biologists check your findings in Peking.” The last remark was said acidly and was intended as an insult.
There was a brief silence in the room. Then Zeno’s heavy voice resumed: “Very well I’ll get something ready for them.”
“Thank you, doctor.” Li Yuen’s tone was sugary.
I moved away from the door just in time. Zeno came out of the inner office stiff-backed and angry. He looked at me briefly, standing in the middle of the waiting room, and then strode through the outer door into the corridor. I moved after him and watched the direction he took, which I presumed was to the laboratory. I stepped back inside the waiting room. I had to decide whether to go directly after him, or make a stop in Li Yuen’s office. I decided on the latter because I figured that at least some of the papers that recorded Omega’s ugly development would be located with the L5 man. Perhaps he even had a copy of everything Zeno had written down.
I turned back to the partially open door to Li Yuen’s office. I took the Luger out and walked through the door just as Li Yuen was opening a wall safe. I let him open it, then spoke up:
“Your worries about Peking are over, Li.”
He whirled about quickly, surprise on his round face. He was young, in his thirties, I thought. He focused narrowly on the Luger just as I squeezed the trigger.
The gun barked out loudly in the room and Li Yuen spun back against the open safe door, smacking his face into its edge. As he slid downward, he grabbed at the door with both hands and left a dark red stain on it.
I kicked the body and it did not move. I hoped the sound of the gunshot had not carried far outside the room, but I had had little choice because of time. I reached into the safe and drew out a sheaf of papers and two black files with silver stripes across their covers. One was lettered in Chinese OMEGA PROJECT. The other, in English, read simply DAMON ZENO.
I glanced through the file on Zeno and threw it onto the floor. When I opened the other file, I knew it was part of what I was after. There were some early notes of Zeno’s on the project, communications between Li and Zeno, and charts of letters and digits tracing the development of the Omega bug. I closed the file, turned, and left the room.
In the waiting room there was a muffled noise and some feeble kicking from the cabinet where I had put the Chinese woman. It didn’t matter now. Just as I turned to leave, the outer door opened, and the big black man stood there.
He looked at the empty desk and then at the file under my arm. I started to walk past him.
“Where is Madame Ching?” he asked.
I pointed to the inner office where Li Yuen lay dead. “She’s in with Li Yuen,” I said. There was a sound from the cabinet, and he looked toward it.
I brought the gun out again and chopped down against the base of his skull. He groaned and hit the floor.
“Count your blessings,” I said to the unconscious figure. Then I moved through the doorway and down the corridor in the direction Damon Zeno had gone.
ELEVEN
The tall, husky Almohad mountain man in the Moroccan army uniform barred the doorway to the laboratory. He wore a thick, black beard and earrings in his ears. His shoulders and chest stretched his uniform. His neck was as thick as some men’s waists. He looked down about an inch into my eyes, with what could only be described as arrogant hostility. Above his head over the closed door were painted several warning signs in English and Arabic. DEPARTMENT “A” RESEARCH. Entry Strictly Forbidden. Violators Will Be Punished.
“What do you want?” the big Moroccan asked in strongly accented English.
“Is Dr. Zeno inside?”
“He is.”
“I must deliver this file,” I said, showing him the file under my arm.
“Do you have Class One clearance?”
“I was sent by Li Yuen,” I explained.
“You must have a Class One clearance card,” he insisted. “If you do not, I will deliver the file.”
I shrugged “All right.” I handed the precious file over to him. As soon as both his hands were on it, I went for Wilhelmina.
But he was sharp. He saw the movement, dropped the papers and grabbed at my wrist as it came out of my lab coat. I struggled to turn the gun toward him, but he was too strong for me. He twisted hard on my wrist and the Luger fell from my grasp. I thought for a moment he had broken a bone. He grabbed me with both hands and smashed me against the wall beside the door. My teeth rattled, and I couldn’t focus my eyes for a minute. The big hands closed around my throat. His strength was so great that I knew he’d crush my windpipe before he suffocated me. I freed my arms briefly and brought them down hard onto his forearms, loosening his grip. I kicked at where I thought his left kneecap would be, connected and heard bone snap.
The Almohad yelled a dull yell and fell away from me. I chopped hard at his head with my right hand. He did not go down. I hit the same place again, and he fell to the floor.
But in a second he was going for the pistol on his belt, and he moved very fast for a big man. I landed on him just as the gun was clearing the holster. Hugo slipped into my hand as I hit him. As he fell onto his back and saw the flash of the knife, he brought an arm up to block it, but I knocked his arm aside long enough to make one quick plunge, driving the stiletto into his head, just under the left ear. There was a hiss from his open mouth, a violent shudder of his massive body, and he was dead.
I looked up, and the corridor was still empty. I walked a few steps and opened a door to a small office. Nobody was there. I went back to the guard, dragged him into the small room, and closed the door. Then I straightened my white coat, replaced my weapons, and gathered up the file. I pushed open the door to the lab and walked in as if I owned the place.
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br /> It was a large room, crowded with tables and equipment. On the tables were rows upon rows of small glass tanks, in which, I guessed, Omega was being grown. A large electronic machine of some kind stood at one end of the room, and an attend-ant bent over it. There were three other lab men in addition to Dr. Z himself, who was busy scribbling notes at a stand-up desk.
To my left was a tall cabinet constructed of metal and wood. The doors on this cabinet were reinforced glass, so that its contents were visible. There were hundreds of glass cylinders with labels affixed to them. Inside the containers were a greenish gray substance, which, I concluded, was the cultured Omega Mutation.
Dr. Z had moved over to a counter near the desk and was studying a beaker on top of a low flame. As I knew from the previous brief meeting and from AXE photographs, he was a tall, chalky-faced man with stooped shoulders. His hair was thick and iron gray. The nose was thin but prominent, and his mouth was wide, with a full underlip. Unlike most of the other men in the room, Z was without spectacles, and the dark gray eyes held a cold, brilliant intensity.
I remembered Hawk’s advice. Bring Zeno back if I could. Kill him if I could not. The choice was Zeno’s.
Nobody in the room had seen me, or if they had, they were paying no attention. I moved quickly over to Zeno, and as I approached him, I placed the Omega file on a table where it would be out of my way. I walked up beside him, putting myself between him and the other white-coated men in the room, so that they could not see what was going on. Then I pulled Wilhelmina. Zeno looked up just then, regarded the gun impassively for a moment, then stared at me with those hard, bright eyes.
“What is this?” he said coldly to me, in a strong, resonant voice. “What are you doing in here?”
“I’ll give you a small hint,” I said in a low hard voice. “I’m not with L5.”
His dark eyes narrowed slightly as he looked me over, and understanding came to his face. “So that’s it.” He tried to mask his fear. “You’re a fool. You’ll never get out of the laboratory alive.”
