by Bruce Buff
“There are a lot of people around. You don’t want a scene.”
“Nor do you. Take a look at this.” With that, the muscleman produced a tablet. On it was video of Stephen’s house, focused on Ava’s window. “And if that isn’t persuasive enough, remember that two knights always defeat a lone bishop. As your colleague found out six months ago, it doesn’t pay to try to run away. The outcome can be much worse than the alternative.”
Stunned with the truth of what he had always feared—that Alex’s crash wasn’t an accident—Stephen realized that things were beyond anything he could handle.
With one man in front of him and another behind, Stephen started walking toward a panel truck parked in the biology building’s back lot. The first man opened the rear doors and gestured for Stephen to get in. Stephen and the two men stepped inside and closed the doors. There was a small window in the front through which Stephen could see only a little of what was ahead. Directed by an unseen driver, the vehicle drove off slowly through the thinning crowds and traffic, toward Boston and an uncertain future.
Chapter 36
Dan reached the other side of the bridge and had less than a quarter mile to go. Acrid smoke from the fire had drifted all the way over, and periodically he got strong whiffs that made him recoil.
A ping from the Bluetooth earbud in his right ear notified him of an email from Stephen. Although the message indicated that Stephen was not in danger, Dan wanted to talk with him to be sure. A glance at his phone’s screen showed that Stephen’s cell phone was in the MIT biology building. Dan sprinted the short distance remaining. All the office lights were out. If Stephen was there, he was in the dark.
Again Dan tried calling Stephen. Again the call went unanswered.
Meanwhile, police were directing the few stragglers in the area to go home and get off the streets. One policeman approached Dan and motioned for him to move on. Dan pointed at Stephen’s building, made as though he was getting out keys, and walked to the front door.
The policeman nodded and walked on.
Dan knocked progressively louder on the glass doors until he was pounding on them. No response. Increasingly concerned, he walked around the outside of the building to see if he could find a way in. He reached the back corner just in time to catch a glimpse of someone who looked liked Stephen, being escorted by two men into the back of a panel truck.
Dan yelled and sprinted after the truck as it pulled out. Within moments, it was gone.
Out of breath, Dan stopped, slapped his hands on his thighs, and bent over, breathing heavily. He pulled out his phone. The dot that represented Stephen, or at least the cell phone Dan had given him, crossed into Boston, headed south on I-93, and toward the tunnels that ran underneath the city.
Then signal from the phone was lost.
He waited a few minutes for the vehicle to leave the tunnel and for the signal to reappear, but nothing showed up. He didn’t know what that meant. Was the phone destroyed, or was the signal masked?
Dan looked for a taxi, but there were none to be found.
Jogging slowly into East Cambridge, he came across a teenage boy sitting on an old, beat-up, ten-speed Schwinn bicycle. Dan paid him eighty dollars for it and rode off toward Boston and along the path that the truck had traveled.
Chapter 37
Dr. Bishop, thank you so kindly for joining us. Momentous events today, don’t you think? Even life-altering for some, and perhaps world-changing for many,” said a voice from the shadows that Stephen recognized.
Stephen yelled out, “Reveal yourself!”
“You have known me for a long time in one capacity, but I have another identity. You may have heard of The Commission. I am one of its leaders, known to them as Sarastro, and will be dealing with you now in that capacity.”
Even after a day of incredible and terrible events, Stephen was stunned anew, learning of the person’s alternate identity and the organization he belonged to. Gathering himself, he said, “I suppose I should have suspected something.”
“Then you also recognize the seriousness of the predicament and my disappointment in you.”
Silence descended as Stephen reflected upon his dilemma. He was in a huge basement of an old building that was part of a run-down industrial complex that was being torn down to make way for an upscale development. Since the completion of the Big Dig, the area was considered attractive and trendy.
The basement was empty save for the chair he was sitting in, the small table to the side of it, some scattered debris on the floor, the two men and one woman who had escorted him down, and the man who referred to himself now as Sarastro. The lone light was aimed at Stephen’s face, mostly blinding him while providing limited illumination of the surrounding area. The driver of the truck that had brought him there was outside, presumably keeping watch.
Before Stephen had been placed in the chair and the light turned on him, he had been able to make out wood bracing on the far wall and an open window next to it. His first impulse had been to make a run for it, but he realized he would be overtaken.
He blinked against the painful light and searched for the face that belonged to the voice. All he could make out was the familiar silhouette of Sarastro standing off to the side, while the one who looked like he was in charge of the muscle side of things stood in front of Stephen.
Stephen was dazed by the turn of events and knew he had strong reason to fear what was coming. Yet doing anything drastic would be counterproductive for Sarastro and his team. They needed Stephen’s willing cooperation. Still, there was no telling what people who considered themselves beyond all norms would do. Perhaps it had been a mistake to expect rational behavior. Surely by the looks of things, he’d overestimated his advantage and underestimated the potential outcomes. Nonetheless, he’d have to pose as though he had leverage over them without being forced to turn over what he knew he could not. Grimly, he realized that the belief in control of one’s life was an illusion that almost everyone held until it was shattered.
Acting indignant, Stephen said in a firm, determined voice, “Why have you brought me here this way?”
“I see we have your attention. Good! We want you to understand the gravity of the situation and what we’re prepared to do to protect our interests. A more ‘polite’ approach might have left you thinking you have other options than full cooperation.”
“I have acted as we’ve agreed. You have no cause to think otherwise,” Stephen answered, knowing that it was false, but hoping they had no evidence to the contrary.
“I’m afraid that is where we disagree. My colleagues and I aren’t sure of the details, but we believe you are connected to what happened at the MIT fusion center tonight. Not only that, but you’ve been conducting your research in secret, withholding important information from us. You can imagine our confusion, curiosity, and disappointment, especially after all we have done for you and were still prepared to do for your daughter, Ava,” Sarastro said.
“That’s ridiculous. My genetic research has nothing to do with fusion, or, for that matter, anything to do with physics.”
“Is it really? As far-fetched as it should seem, we think you’ve made incredible scientific connections we need to know about. But no matter. We will find out shortly. Would it surprise you to learn that we know about all of your meetings with the regrettably late Dr. Viktor Weisman?”
“So what? I’ve been friends with him for over ten years.”
“Yes, we know that. But as the explosion at the fusion research center demonstrated dramatically, something changed decisively.”
“Yes, I lost a good friend. A number of other good people died, and the center was destroyed, too.”
“Stephen! We know the fundamentals of what happened. Disappointingly, you have left out critical details. A powerful fusion reaction took place in a reactor that should not have been able to produce it. Satellites from num
erous countries picked up all the requisite signatures. At this very instant, world powers are mobilizing to find out what happened and to get hold of the technology that made it possible. We are going to beat them to it. Before anyone else figures out the link between you and Dr. Weisman, we’re going to know everything you know, about all your research, all your relationships, anything you’ve exchanged with others and all that you possess. That is the easy part. The more difficult part is doing it in such a way that your work continues, with your effective cooperation and well-being. Your responses and evasiveness are not encouraging,” said Sarastro.
“I’ve held up my end of the agreement. In return, you spy on and threaten me?”
“We’re prepared to do a lot more than that.” Turning to his men, Sarastro said, “Sergei, show Dr. Bishop the contents of the bag.” The man nearest the table picked out and slowly organized the contents of the bag on top of the table. There were various medical instruments, some long-handled and blunt, some sharper.
Stephen’s insides twisted.
“With what you know of me, do you really think this is necessary? I don’t have whatever you’re after. And if you even think of using these on me, all bets are off, ” Stephen said defiantly.
“You’re the one who will determine what is required, including whether these are used on you or someone close to you as you watch. Normally, we use more subtle methods, but events are rapidly overtaking all of us, thanks to you and your collaborators. You must know that we will get what we’re after. Things are too important not to use all means necessary. And rest assured, we will.” Continuing, Sarastro said, “I hope that we don’t have to use these devices. They’d leave marks that would invite questions that are best avoided, especially while we think that you can still be useful to us. But make no mistake about it, you should do everything within your power to maintain the high expectations we have in the value of you and your work. Without our belief in that, your prospects would be nonexistent.”
“What happened to your oath to use technology to make a better world?”
“I’m honoring it. There are far more important things at stake than a few individuals.”
“What about your soul? In the end, that’s all you’ve got,” Stephen said in a low, gentle voice.
Laughing with scorn, Sarastro said, “Despite your display of piety and concern, in the end, when push comes to shove, your own actions are based strictly on worldly interests. But don’t worry. I do have much higher aspirations than a simple, temporal destiny.”
Picking up Stephen’s damaged cell phone, Sarastro tried different buttons. Then he said, “You need to be more careful with phones that are old enough to be relics. What a shame about the broken display and jammed keys. But wait—I think the speed dial works. Let’s try number two.”
Placing his hand over the mouthpiece, Sarastro turned to Stephen and said, “It’s your wife. I’m afraid I can’t tell her when you’ll be home. Unless you change your attitude, this may take a while.” Then Sarastro hung up.
• • •
Unnerved by the voiceless call from Stephen’s cell phone, that she had been unable to return, Nancy tried to come up with a reasonable explanation for why Stephen wasn’t home yet. If something had come up, he should have communicated that to her. Perhaps the cell phone network was overwhelmed by people trying to contact their loved ones. Or maybe it was blocked for law enforcement reasons. Perhaps traffic outside the city was worse than it looked on the navigator maps she’d checked online. Still, he would have found a way to let her know. His dependable, sure way of handling things was one of the things that had first attracted her to him. All she could do was watch the news reports, showing the fire being brought under control, while she prayed nervously.
Desperate for answers, she called Dan.
• • •
Dan biked over the I-93 bridge in between the car lanes. Traffic was crawling as people tried to get through the security and chaos.
When he reached the central Boston side, a call rang through on his regular smart phone. It was Nancy. He was glad that he had turned off location tracking and was spoofing the cell phone tower, otherwise it could later be used to track his whereabouts.
“Dan, do you know where Stephen is?” Nancy said anxiously. “He was supposed to be home already. I just got a call from his new cell phone number, only no one was on the line, and I couldn’t reach him when I called back.”
Dan tried to reassure her, despite his own doubts. “I’m sure he’s fine. The fire’s made everything crazy. He’s probably trying to make his way home and for some reason his phone isn’t working.” The good news was that Stephen’s special cell phone had placed a call and therefore was in signal range again. He looked quickly down at his special cell phone’s display and Dan saw that the blinking red dot had reappeared. He knew he had to get there as quick as he could. “Let me get back to you. I’ll check into it right away.”
“Thank you, Dan. I know it’s not rational, but I have this terrible feeling.”
“I understand. A lot of people are shaken right now. Try not to worry too much. I’ll call you when I know something.”
“I really appreciate it. And take care of yourself, too.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll call back soon. ’Bye,” Dan said, rushing off the phone before she could answer. He zoomed in on Stephen’s cell phone’s location. It was in a remote area of the last remnants of the Big Dig.
He was ten minutes by bike from Stephen’s location. What could he, one unarmed man, do once he got there? The heck with the consequences. He wasn’t going to chance losing his once-again good friend.
Using another one of his phone’s special features, Dan placed an untraceable call to 911, with a voice-altering filter, telling the operator that he saw a panel truck, loaded with large propane tanks, driving toward the Ted Williams tunnel. It had stopped at a nearby abandoned building on Haul Road and people were loading things into it. They looked like they were getting ready to leave and the only main road they could take headed toward the tunnel.
That would definitely get a big response.
• • •
“You were behind Alex’s death.”
“I think you should focus on your own interests,” Sarastro said. Opening a small case, he pulled out two vials of blood from a refrigerated box. “See these?”
Holding up one vial in his right hand, he said, “This contains the last of the healthy marrow that is the perfect match for your adorable Ava, should it ever be necessary. Let’s hope it’s not.” Glaring at Stephen’s wide-open eyes, Sarastro put the vial back in the box. His expression turning sinister, he grabbed the other vial and said, “This contains her tainted blood, rampant with leukemia. You’ll notice that the vial is half full. You might want to consider where the other half is and how it could be used, if it hasn’t already been. As I’m sure you know, relapses are much more difficult to treat. And of course there is the matter of the treatment we were helping develop and obtain. Fortunately, it wasn’t needed for your daughter, at least not yet.”
Stephen yelled, “You leave Ava out of this! She’s an innocent child. What do you think you’ll gain by harming her? Not what you think you will.”
“Really? We’ve already been successful. Our lab work led you to believe she was predisposed to leukemia and got you to start the research we wanted conducted. When we realized you were keeping the research secret, and our attempts to influence Alex Robertson, which you forced on us, failed, we injected Ava with a form of leukemia that we knew was easily treatable but you did not, due to more clever lab work on our part. After all, we didn’t want grieving to get in the way of your effectiveness. But it was enough for you to be open to our overtures, and did lead to our agreement to help you search for the treatment you thought you needed. Only you consider yourself more clever than you are and now we are forced by this evening
’s events to take more drastic measures.”
Raising the first vial of blood over his head, Sarastro threw it down, smashing it on the ground. “By the way: the reason it was a perfect match was that it came from her, before she became ill. Now we’re all at the point of no return.”
Face warped with rage and fear, Stephen spat out, “You’re a monster.”
“Why? Because we are willing to do what’s needed to benefit the world as a whole? It’s a rather simple equation. Recognize that one life is just one and many are many. Perhaps what happens to your child could yield discoveries that would benefit thousands of others. Why should they suffer because of your selfishness? But don’t worry, we have no interest in harming her. You are the one with the power to ensure your daughter’s well-being, and that of others, by simply honoring your agreement and sharing your work, and everything else, with us, tonight. Your fate and theirs is in your hands. All we want is to ensure the science is developed and used for as widespread a benefit as possible. Why object to something that would help humans flourish? I am being completely honest with our intent. I just have the courage to follow it to its logical conclusion. You don’t.”
“I told you, I have withheld nothing,” Stephen shouted, desperate to protect others but unwilling to place the power of what he had discovered in the hands of such people.
“Unfortunately, I don’t believe that. I wish I could, but then that would make me a fool. I hate fools, and no one is going to treat me like one. While I’m normally patient and forgiving, you are close to leaving me no choice but to act with extreme measures.”
“I have, and will, continue to honor our agreement. I can show you once I’m back at HBC,” Stephen asserted.
“Tell us what you know about Viktor Weisman’s work,” Sarastro said.
