“Then, Professor, all we need is, like … human volunteers.”
Moheri nodded his head, this time in agreement, while Tina bit at her fingernails.
“If I volunteer, what do I get?” Tina teased.
Moheri paused. Ever since Tina was assigned to collaborate with Moheri on this project, she had developed a personal attraction for Moheri, disregarding the snide remarks of the other female employees.
“A cruise to the Caribbean?” Dr. Moheri said, looking directly at Tina and making an offer he knew she would not refuse.
“You’re kidding?”
“I’m very serious.”
“I’m going by myself?”
“I’ll go with you,” Moheri volunteered.
“You are not … kidding.”
“Look, we can accomplish two tasks together—one, a good test for the JRC-23–0018–2008 product, and another, a trip to the Caribbean.”
“But … but what if my fingers fall off?”
“I will personally get you the best plastic surgeon in Chicago to either reattach them or give you prostheses,” answered Moheri, with the self-confidence he was known for.
“Gee … thanks … prostheses?”
“Seriously, I doubt anything will happen except instant removal of the nail polish.”
“Okay,” Tina said, taking a deep breath. “Let me paint my nail first with my favorite color, red.”
“Oh, I love red nail polish on a woman,” Moheri remarked.
Tina’s heart skipped a beat. That’s sweet, she thought; if only Oliver could be that sensitive.
Tina was recently engaged to Oliver Edwards, a supervisor at the Luckiest Luck Casino and Resort. They met during one of Tina’s many trips to the casino. Although engaged for only a few months, they were already planning for a June wedding, next year. Oliver lacked sensitivity as far as Tina was concerned, but he made up for it in so many other ways.
“I’m ready,” Tina announced, showing her beautiful red nails.
“You painted all ten fingers?” Dr. Moheri asked.
“Yes, so that the test will be complete.”
“Okay.”
Tina immersed all ten fingers into the pink-colored solution. Within ten seconds, all the red nail polish disappeared. She withdrew her hands from the solution. Under close examination, there was no ill effect seen on any of Tina’s fingers.
After drying them with a paper towel, she spread them in the air in joyful exhilaration.
Simultaneously, she and Moheri reached for each other in a congratulatory embrace.
Suddenly, within the embrace, their eyes met and their lips locked in a sensual kiss.
Ten to fifteen minutes later, they both sat in the lab sweating and breathing heavily. After a few more kisses, while reaching for their clothes, they noticed a broken glass container on the table.
Apparently, neither had heard it break, except for the security guard who knocked on the door at that moment.
“Is everything all right, Dr. Moheri?” the security guard asked from outside the locked door.
“Yes,” Dr. Moheri said with forced calm. “We were just celebrating.”
“My,” whispered Tina, “isn’t that a good one?”
“That was really good, Tina,” Moheri commented, while clearing his throat.
“I’d like to do that again,” Tina replied.
“We’ll get plenty of opportunity on the cruise.”
5
DRIVING HOME THAT SAME afternoon, Moheri noticed that the sun was shining brightly over the lagoons of Lake Michigan. There were no clouds in the air. The temperature was unseasonably high, in the low eighties, an early April spring. The lake had a bluish hue viewed from I-90, and there were a number of people fishing along the inlets. A faint, foul, custard-like smell from the steel mills permeated the air, yet Moheri rolled down the car’s front windows to enjoy the April breeze.
Arriving home, Moheri found the house empty. Susan and the kids had apparently gone out shopping. Leaving his briefcase on his office desk, he went upstairs, showered again, and changed into his Saturday afternoon attire of jeans and pullover. He settled in front of the computer in his office, and wondered aloud what to name the new product.
Instant Nail Polish Remover?
Instant Johnston?
Tina Johns?
Immediately his mind reverted back to the sex in the lab. Not bad, he thought. Ever since Tina had started working on this project with him, he had imagined what it would be like to have sex with her. But because of his status in the company, he had been very cautious not to be perceived as making the obvious move, for fear of a sexual harassment accusation. He did not want to be accused of inappropriate sexual advances. Susan would go ballistic at that news.
In fact, Dr. Moheri had anticipated something this morning, but what he did not calculate was that it would actually happen. Tina took him up on his challenge and …
“Hi, honey.” Susan’s greeting startled him.
“Hi, guys,” Moheri said.
“How was the office?”
“The office…? Yes, we tested the new nail polish remover, and it worked fantastically,” Moheri answered with a smile and a thumbs-up sign.
As Susan pushed opened the door to the kitchen, she inquired skeptically, “How does it work?”
“You just dip your finger in the solution and, viola, all the nail polish disappears in less than five seconds,” an excited Marion explained. “Let’s assume you apply a nail polish and, for whatever reason, want to change to a different color—you could do so in an instant.”
“What about the fingers? Some discoloration or … you know, something,” Susan asked from the kitchen.
“Nothing happens. It does no harm to the fingers,” Moheri exclaimed.
He then rose up, buckled his belt tighter around his rotund waistline, and headed toward the kitchen. Their two boys, meanwhile, ran to the living room to finish playing their Nintendo games.
“I’m proud of you, honey. What are you gonna call it?” Susan asked. She laid the shopping bags on the kitchen countertop.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking when you guys came in. Listen to this, and tell me what you think. ‘Tina Johns.’”
“Tina Johns, and…?” Susan turned to look at her husband, hands folded across her chest.
“Tina Johns’ Nail Polish Remover,” Moheri responded, gesturing with both hands in a lecture-like fashion.
“You gonna sell that name to women?”
“Yes.”
“Bad, bad name. Too manly, cheap, bar-like name, and a cheap catch word.”
“Okay, okay, okay,” Moheri conceded. “What do you suggest?”
“How about ‘Instant Nail Polish Remover’? Nice, short, and simple, and it will appeal to all women.”
“Instant Nail Polish Remover,” Marion reflected, frowning. Pointing with his right index finger, he congratulated her. “That’s not bad. I like it.”
“You’re lost without me, aren’t you?” Susan asked, strutting her way to the refrigerator to retrieve cold lemonade.
“Yes, honey,” Marion answered. “Look, sweetheart, we should probably be announcing the product to the public in two weeks, and then the company plans an official launch.”
“Let me guess, on a cruise ship again?” Susan stopped her drinking and asked like she already knew.
“Of course—that’s where we get the most attendance.”
Moheri could not help but think of all the women he had lured to these cruises. The conquests, he called them. So far, since joining the company, he had netted three and counting. This time, Tina would probably travel on Moheri’s expense account.
6
THE SEA PRINCESS WAS not one of the larger ships on the sea, Moheri could tell. While docked next to the Royal Caribbean Brilliance of the Sea in San Juan, Puerto Rico, Moheri noticed that the Sea Princess looked rather small.
But no matter, all cruises are what you make of them, he conclud
ed.
To Moheri, they were all spectacular, especially the food and the entertainment.
He made sure Tina had a room less than five doors down from his. Tina certainly was entertaining, night after night.
On the third day of the cruise, the female announcer broke the silence of the morning, as always, with her routine early morning announcements. “Attention, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Island of the Dominicans. Today’s special excursion is to Mount Hibiscus Bay.”
Dr. Moheri was most interested in that spot. He had always wanted to visit Mount Hibiscus Bay.
Hibiscus Bay, a tiny hilltop location on the northeast corner of the island, was made famous by its mysterious pond. According to a National Geographic show that Moheri had watched on a cable channel a month ago, legend had it that the pond occasionally took a breath. It constantly emitted misty clear fumes, but every ten to fifteen minutes the pond could be seen heaving, just like it was taking a deep breath. The local government had ordered, for health reasons, that no one be allowed within one hundred feet of the pond. Most importantly, local legend said that a swim in the pond, whether accidental or otherwise, would result instantly in what the locals called “well-done cooked meat.”
Special permission, fees, and a security clearance were required by the Dominican government for anyone who wanted to obtain some lake water, and only half a liter of the lake fluid per person was allowed. Only bona fide scientists from countries listed in the Dominicans’ official government dossiers as safe could obtain the half-liter.
Dr. Moheri, through the State Department, was able to procure permission, and he paid the fees for his half liter. The solutions were usually not handed over to an individual, per se, but rather shipped directly to a verifiable, legitimate business address.
“That’s a creepy place,” suggested Tina, looking at the lake.
“It actually does breathe, doesn’t it?” Moheri asked as the group headed back to the boat.
“Yes.” A chorus of simultaneous responses came from other members of the excursion team.
“Luckily, this is at the highest elevation of the island, miles removed from the general population,” Moheri observed.
“I’m assuming this must be a gaseous fume from some volcanic activity below, but apparently the fumes are not deadly, wouldn’t you say?” Tina asked.
“Apparently not, otherwise those attendants that have worked here for years would have all been dead.” Moheri laughed.
Before returning to the boat, Moheri visited the American Consulate office on the island, signed all the necessary documents, was photographed, and then was issued a receipt for his half-liter bottle.
* * *
Back in Indiana, Moheri could not wait to get to the laboratories. It was, however, not until seven days after the trip that the package actually arrived.
Moheri ran an analysis of the sample solution to determine if previous analyses of the liquid done at other facilities were consistent. His lab only reconfirmed that the fluid indeed contained about 92 percent alpha amino cupric acids, 2 percent fumaric acid, 2 percent trace elements, 3 percent nitrogen, and 1 percent heavy metals, a solution not amenable to either human consumption or contact. He was not surprised. Those were the same percentages shown on the National Geographic show.
As a research scientist, Dr. Moheri, for the past four years, had been secretly working on a new acid. He wondered if a percentage of this new solution in combination with his formulated acid would result in anything interesting.
After eight weeks of different percentage combinations and concoctions, and a near disaster in the lab, Moheri formulated a new concoction comprising the Dominican fluid mixed with hydrochloric acid, citric acid, benzoic acid, and diethyl benzyl ammonium sulfate.
The final solution, alpha amino serpenteric acid, he called “Moheric acid.” The final mixed percentage of each solution he kept exceptionally confidential. He hid the piece of paper with the information inside the sole of one of his expensive work shoes, which he wore practically at all times. He figured that even if he left the shoe at home, he could not imagine anyone looking under the sole of his shoe for anything.
All ten rats and five rabbits tested with varying doses of Moheric acid died in less than thirty minutes, with the smallest kill dose at 2.5 millequivalent per deciliter. By accident, he discovered that less than half a teaspoon of Moheric acid in a quarter cup of coffee would kill a rabbit in one to two days, depending on the size of the rabbit.
Autopsies of the rabbits showed massive liver necrosis, or decay. Toxicology studies showed evidence of very high concentrations of ammonia and hydrogen chloride, chemicals normally found in the liver.
“To put it bluntly,” concluded Moheri to himself, “this is a clean death.”
PART
VII
1
ASHLAND AUDITORIUM, TRADITIONALLY USED for larger university lectures and for the weekly medical school Clinical Pathology Conferences, was packed with reporters. There were cameras mounted at all corners of the room. There were at least fifteen of them on tripod-like stands. The auditorium was standing room only. Media groups, students, and many faculty members and support staff were in attendance.
Information trumpeting the announcement of a major medical breakthrough was sent previously throughout the university and everyone was invited to attend. By 1:45 P.M., the auditorium was filled, and further admissions were denied at 1:55 P.M. when the standing room was also filled. The conference started promptly at 2:00 P.M.
The president of the university, who was standing on the podium, motioned for attention, and then went ahead and introduced Drs. Abramhoff and Dickerson. Both were seated at the table, in the middle of the stage, with about fifteen microphones between them.
“Thank you all for coming,” Dr. Laposite began. “Let me begin by introducing our distinguished professor, Dr. Abramhoff, who is the Chairman of the Department of Immunology and Oncology.”
Applause followed.
“And also, our distinguished guest, all the way from San Diego, California, Dr. Regina Dickerson, Chief of the Department of Hematology-Oncology and Immunology at the University of La Jolla, School of Medicine.”
Applause followed.
“Today, the Loop University of Chicago is, and has always been, at the forefront of medical research. The university called this news conference to announce a breakthrough in our joint scientific research with the University of La Jolla. These two prominent individuals have championed an important finding. They also have dedicated a lot of man and woman hours in order to achieve this monumental result. The university is highly indebted to both of them. And without further ado, I present to you Dr. Dickerson.”
Another round of applause followed as Dr. Dickerson stepped up to the podium.
When the applause finally died down, she methodically narrated her background and training. Finally, in more commonplace terms, she explained the research concept and their preliminary findings. She then relinquished the podium to Dr. Abramhoff for the conclusion of the presentation.
Dr. Abramhoff began by saying that all criminals are medically programmed at birth, and given the right environment, will perpetrate what they were destined to do.
“We have scientific evidence that proves our theory,” he concluded.
In the question-and-answer session that followed, Dr. Dickerson, however, managed to suggest that their findings might have implications far beyond medicine, possibly into the realms of religion and religious beliefs.
The news conference dominated the evening programs. Many commentators wanted to know exactly what religious implications Dr. Dickerson had alluded to.
The communications department at the Loop University Medical School received several calls requesting media appearances of Dr. Abramhoff and Dr. Dickerson.
Abramhoff arrived home that evening highly pleased. He surmised that the opportunity for national recognition had finally begun.
Flying back to San
Diego the next morning, Dickerson was upset at Abramhoff for suggesting that his laboratory was first on the HLA B66 scene. She cursed softly but decided not to do anything, for the moment. She arrived in San Diego to a hero’s welcome. She was mobbed at the airport when her itinerary was leaked to the news media. Luckily, Pinkett had arranged a police escort and a limo for the ride back to the university.
A hastily scheduled meeting of all department heads was held. After the congratulatory remarks, the university president directed that all future funding associated with HLA research be separated from the rest of the university’s general funds.
That settled, each department head pledged support for the research and offered whatever help they could.
Dr. Dickerson appreciated their support and went home satisfied.
“Doc, I’m proud of you,” congratulated Detective Pinkett on the telephone that night.
“Thanks, Pinky,” responded Dickerson.
“The whole department was talking about your news conference, you know. One thing everyone agreed on is that it would make our job a whole lot easier if we can use your HLA right now,” the detective said.
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” Dickerson said. “Every criminal in the United States now has to be tested and proven positive, then after that, we’d need to start testing the rest of the population to see who tests HLA B66 positive.”
“That’ll be an impossible task, and will require a lot of time, money, and energy. In fact, a social upheaval.”
“That is exactly my point.”
2
WHILE DICKERSON WAS IN the shower contemplating her next venture, the phone rang and rang. She ignored the ringing, choosing instead to bask in the water. Shower over, Dickerson finally sat down to eat breakfast, but the phone started ringing again. The caller ID signaled an unknown name and an unknown number. There were earlier calls from the same unknown caller, but the caller had left no messages.
“Hello?”
“Dr. Dickerson?” the caller said, through a strong foreign accent.
Mark of the Beast Page 11
