The Noble Mercenary

by Patrick John Donahoe

  He closed his laboratory daily log and remained at the console. He thought, if only Brandt hadn’t been such a fool and partnered with al-Qaeda fanatics, he would be available today to continue his work. Even the Baron’s lawyer’s lawyers have to maintain distance from Brandt in prison, to prevent a connection being made between Brandt and the Select. If Karl Brandt were here now, I could assist him, and we could make breakthroughs together. I never claimed to be a brilliant research scientist. The Select have no patience for long term science. They only want results, especially the Baron, the pompous old fool.

  He reopened his personal daily log. He had had aspirations to become a famous doctor-author, writing prize winning books on medical science. His ruminations filled many pages in the Appendix of his personal log. Once he hit upon an idea he felt he could elaborate on to book length, he planned to try. Karl Brandt’s research on the serum of the fountain of youth would be ideal for his purposes, but the Select would realize what he had done, and he might find his fifteen minutes of fame, like Andy Warhol claimed everyone could have, but he wouldn’t have more than fifteen minutes of life remaining to enjoy the fame.

  He started his ruminations with -

  ‘I should have taken that position at Monsanto and worked on new weed killers. I would never have run out of work at Monsanto. Barnyard grass has changed dramatically over time; originating on dry land, it has evolved to tolerate waterlogged roots, and look like rice, blending into rice fields. Parasite plants make good weeds. They wrap around plants, send their roots into hosts, and steal nutrition. Just like some of the human parasites on this earth.

  Or, I could have bio-engineered new food plants like Golden Rice with enhanced vitamin content. Once humans began to farm, they created new habitats for plants to grow fast, become weeds, and make lots of seeds.

  Wild beets in Europe release pollen that fertilizes domestic beets miles away. Farmers have domesticated plants from the wild, and they have undomesticated themselves, but they don’t return to the same DNA as their wild ancestors. Their genes mutate to new and different genetic configurations. Weeds keep evolving.

  Monsanto genetically modified crops to be resistant to their own Glyphosate weed killer, Roundup, but 24 species of weeds are now resistant to Glyphosate. Today, over 200 species of weeds are resistant to at least one herbicide. Mother Nature can’t be fooled; she retaliates. Man’s tinkering could lead to his downfall. Even the ‘fountain of youth’ could lead to Man’s downfall.

  From George Washington’s time to 1900, man’s lifespan nearly doubled, and from 1900 until today, it has nearly doubled again. Medical science has essentially doubled the human life span in the last hundred years, could we double it again in the next hundred years? Moore’s law predicted the doubling of computer power every two years by doubling the number of transistors in integrated circuits, and his prescience has been holding up for the past 50 years. Why can’t medical science continue to double man’s lifespan every hundred years? Doctors are at least as intelligent as computer geeks.

  Of course doubling man’s life span sounds like a noble cause, but what about our planet and its limited resources, we would need to reduce the number of people as we increase their life span, or else we would deplete the planet. Wars and plagues have helped keep overpopulation at bay, and man seems to be on a self-destructive binge. Although the Select’s ideology seems harsh, maybe they have the answer, improve the human lifespan for those, a Select few, who honor our planet. I would like to think it’s possible to increase man’s lifespan, and to participate in making it happen.

  If I can be successful with my research, perhaps they will take me in as one of their own. Having to do their dirty work making deadly poisons, gases and viruses is a vile way to get in their good graces, but I do enjoy researching the serum of the fountain of youth and having access to the Brandt’s life work.

  I still can’t believe the Brandts developed so many antibiotic resistant CRE bacteria. They purposely bred bacteria to resist every known type of antibiotic known to man by exposing the bacteria to a variety of antibiotics over and over again and growing killer strains. I don’t know what they intended to do with these superbugs, but it makes me nervous to not only have samples of their deadly viruses, but also samples of their pernicious germs. I can’t wait to turn this whole hellish research over to Kurt Brandt.’

  Doctor Ehrlich entered a break in his notes, then continued.

  ‘Mankind seems to be on the path of self-destruction and will probably obliterate itself eventually without any assistance with their wars over land and resources, and foolish religious notions. A finite number of environmentally conscious individuals with the long view of husbanding the earth seems like the logical future for mankind. Perhaps I don’t have to be one of those who eradicate mankind, just be ready to step in when they eradicate themselves. I will focus on developing the ability to double man’s lifespan and ingratiate myself with the Select to partake of the benefits, after all, I am not a Monster.’

  Doctor Erhlich realized his musings were getting in the way of his quitting work for the day. He gave his lab the once over before locking up for the night. He continued to rationalize his involvement in the Select. What is the higher good? he wondered. He stopped at the door to his laboratory, visually scanned the room one last time, stepped into the small foyer, then closed and locked the laboratory’s inner door.

  Nineteen

  Jacques looked forward to meeting with his old friend, Colonel Beauchene, at the French Foreign Legion headquarters in Paris. Colonel Beauchene and Jacques met when they both served in Viet Nam prior to US involvement. Jacques had saved the Colonel’s life in the Battle of Dien Bien Phu in 1954, when they were both privates in the Legion. The Colonel had moved up in the ranks from private during his 40 years of dedicated service. He retired, but not by choice, and became an emeritus Legionnaire and consultant to the Intelligence Branch.

  The Colonel had helped Jacques create a new identity multiple times over the past fifty years and Jacques trusted him with his life. He never directly asked Jacques for the secret to his longevity; Jacques had volunteered he didn’t understand his longevity, either. All he knew was he had to use it for good, which was an adequate enough explanation for the Colonel.

  “A new mission, I assume,” said Colonel Beauchene. He handed Jacques a large manila folder addressed to Jacques in care of the Foreign Legion with no return address on the upper left outside corner, but the stamps were postmarked Arlington, Virginia.

  Jacques opened the folder under the Colonel’s watchful eye. He pulled out a dossier on Baron Frederich von Hapsburg and family.

  Jacques began to read aloud to his longtime friend. “Baron Frederich von Hapsburg is a descendent of Heinrich the Fifth. His claim to royalty includes Uradel or Upper, and hoher Adel, or ancient royalty and although the August 1919 constitution ended legal nobility in Germany, the Baron holds onto his title with fierce tenacity.

  The Baron, Frederich von Hapsburg, born on September 18, 1958, is 56 years old and has been married for 3l years to Giselle von Hapsburg nee Giselle Müller. Giselle is from Austria. They married just prior to his eldest daughter’s birth, after living together for two years, when the Baron was 25 years old. They have two daughters, Katherine, nicknamed Kat, 29 years old, who works as her father’s executive secretary, and Aloisia, 27 years old who just completed her medical internship at the Medical Center of the Ludwig-Maximilians University in Munich.

  The Baron’s father, Arnold von Hapsburg was born in Austria in 1933. His grandfather, Geoffrey von Hapsburg was born in Austria in 1908. Geoffrey was a military munitions manufacturer during WWII for the Germans. His factory was destroyed during WWII, but rebuilt after the war. The Baron’s father was instrumental in rebuilding the factory from 1948 until the late 1950’s when the Baron was born. The Baron worked for his father until 2001 when his father was 68 years old. His father retired and let the Baron run the company at the age of 43. If his father were
still alive he would be 81 years old today, but he died at 70 of Mesothelioma from working with asbestos.

  The Baron has taken a small munitions factory and built it up into a major munitions and military supplier supporting the French, the Germans, and the Italians, and is developing business with many other countries. The Baron has his own ‘skunk works’ where he uses his own, and company money, to develop special military products. The latest product being drones.

  The Baron is non-religious. His grandfather was one of the founders of a group of military industrialists and financial czars. The group either disbanded, or went underground, during World War II. The group despised the Nazi’s even though their ideals were similar. The Baron had his sperm saved in a sperm bank to be used with a surrogate mother when he gave the order, so that he might have a son to carry on the name.

  The Baron developed a love of flying from his grandfather who flew for the Luftwaffe during WWII. His grandfather was in one dogfight and shot down a P-51 with a secret German built Messerschmitt 262 jet aircraft when he was 36 years old.

  The Baron is having a sales presentation for the military higher ups of several countries in five days. We suggest you attend as a representative of the FFL and learn what you can about their products and plans for the future.”

  Jacques noted the next paragraph was marked. ‘For your eyes only. Do not share with the Colonel.’

  Jacques read the next paragraph to himself in silence.

  ‘According to our Intel, the Baron is developing drones for major sales, and working on developing stealth capabilities for drones in secret. These drones would be used for surveillance and special operations warfighting. The Baron may be envisioning the spread of the Brandt’s viruses through the use of drones launched simultaneously around the globe.’

  The Colonel, seeming to realize Jacques was reading some ‘for your eyes only’ information, waited patiently for Jacques to restart the conversation.

  Jacques looked to his longtime friend, and asked, “What can you do for me?”

  “How about you attend the sales presentation with the entrée of representative of the Legion interested in buying drones for us. I’ll work up a findable Legionnaire dossier on you that indicates you’re qualified to fly any aircraft the Legion owns, and some we don’t, that you are soon to be discharged after faithfully serving five years in the Legion, rising to the rank of Captain. What name would you like?”

  “How about Roland Jacques Armand. If I respond to Jacques by mistake, I can always say most people call me Jacques, but my first name is Roland, without raising suspicion.”

  “Done. Ahh, if only I could have your life, one adventure after another, instead of turning into an old man.”

  “If I could make that happen for you, I would. But, believe me you might find it’s not a bed of roses.”

  “I know you would, and it probably isn’t. You’re an excellent friend, and I’m satisfied to live vicariously through you when you confide your adventures, even if you don’t let me in on all the facts.” The Colonel gave Jacques his ‘you didn’t read everything aloud that was in the letter’ look.

  Jacques pretended to not hear the Colonel, and continued, “Let’s wrap up the ID’s and dossier and go out for a grand night of wine, women and song.”

  “That’s another reason you’re an excellent friend. No one, but you, invites me out for grand nights anymore.”

  “Their loss, my friend. Their loss.”

  “Let me lock up your package and we’ll hit the town.”

  “Go slow with me, Colonel, I may not be able to keep up.” Jacques smiled his Errol Flynn smile at the Colonel.

  “You’re so right . . . sonny.”

  Jacques tried to keep his outward attitude of aloofness, and devil may care, up front at all times, but when he was alone, especially when he was not in the company of Ian, or Serena, or Desiree, he often felt lost and unsure of life. He kept the Colonel out until the wee hours the night before, and escorted him safely home having had the best time, he said, in many months.

  The Colonel needed two days to work up Jacques fake ID, so Jacques decided to spend his free time in the Musée D’Orsay and the Louvre. He had toured the museums many times in the past with his three long time companions, but had never been through the museums by himself.

  He especially wanted to see the Mona Lisa and some of the French Impressionists’ work at his leisure. When he walked into the Musée, he was impressed again, as he always was, how an old train station had been converted into a grand museum. He went to the ticketing desk and signed up for the 90-minute tour. He learned something every time he had taken a tour. After the tour he planned to visit his favorite paintings and sculptures on his own.

  A young woman wearing out of style cats’ eyes glasses was copying the painting of Vincent van Gogh’s Bedroom in Arles. Jacques felt an urge to leave the tour and start some kind of art discussion with the woman. He had spent many hours developing his engineering concepts, including drawing them, and often longed to learn to paint in watercolor and oils. In his younger days, he would not have thought twice about pursuing his impulses, but as a 934-year-old man in a 25-year-old man’s body, he had become more reserved. He leaned down to her, and said, “Hello.”

  She looked up at him, and replied, “Hello,” and smiled a wide beautiful teeth smile.

  “You’re doing a fine job of copying van Gogh. Are you an art student?”

  “Yes,” she replied, laying her brush down on her easel, “I’m a third year student at the Paris College of Art.”

  She had fine long fingers and the face of a gorgeous twenty-year-old with her whole life ahead of her. Suddenly Jacques felt the weight of his 934 years. “Keep up the excellent work, perhaps your art will be displayed here someday.” Jacques turned to leave.

  “That’s it, you’re leaving?” she asked with disappointment in her voice.

  “My tour is moving on. Have a good day.” Jacques turned and hurried to catch up with his tour group.

  He explored the Musée D’Orsay until closing, and felt a quiet in his soul he hadn’t felt for a long time, enjoying the artwork. He loved the works of Manet, Monet, Renoir, and all of the French Impressionist artists. He didn’t think it was snobbish because he was French, but because the works spoke to him personally, and they were all incredible.

  The next day he went straight to the painting of the Mona Lisa in the Louvre, and stared at it for such a long time the other sightseers started to complain. A guard approached him and motioned for him to move on. What they did not realize was Jacques and his three semi-immortal friends had met Leonardo. Leonardo had been so taken with Desiree, he asked her multiple times to pose for him, but she demurred and told him she could not pose. He was fascinated by her enigmatic smile and wanted to capture it on canvas, so he painted his paid model accurately, except for the smile. He used Desiree’s smile.

  The four were surprised when they saw his completed painting, and recognized what he had done, but could never tell anyone. Jacques thought it ironic that the four were the most covert individuals who had ever lived on the face of the earth, yet millions of people have studied Desiree’s smile over the centuries. Several years ago, Jacques photo-shopped a digital copy of the painting with Desiree’s white teeth smile replacing her enigmatic smile, and hung the picture in his apartment. Desiree picked up on Jacques’ mischief as soon as she saw the picture, but neither Ian nor Serena noticed the change right away.

  Between touring the museums from opening to closing, and studying everything he could find about drone technology late at night using a fake Yahoo account, and the CIA account, Serena had set up for him, the two days passed too fast.

  Jacques sat across from Colonel Beauchene and thought about his many years of association with the old man. The Colonel was once young and sharp, a true soldier, and now old and bent. He could still outdrink Jacques in the dives of Paris, but Jacques did have to assist him up the stairs to his apartment after their al
l-nighter, drinking, singing, and carousing three nights before. Even mortal friendships lasting over 60 years were a challenge for Jacques.

  Mere mortals passed through his and Ian’s, and Serena’s, and Desiree’s lives like shadows. Jacques was always reluctant to make good friends with ordinary people, because of the pain he felt when they grew old and died. He didn’t necessarily want to join them in death, but felt the loss when they passed on to their next estate.

  The Colonel said, “A penny for your thoughts.”

  “I was thinking how you can still best me at so many things.”

  “You’re just trying to make an old man feel good. I was never as good at anything as you were, or are today.”

  “Remember when we would have pushup contests and you would always do two more than I did?”

  “Yes, I knew then, as I know now, you always let me win.”

  “I’m too competitive for that,” Jacques insisted, although in the back of his mind he knew he was lying.

  The Colonel handed Jacques a large manila envelope, and said, “Here’s the package we have put together for you. We can add, delete, or modify anything you deem appropriate.”

  “I’m sure you’ve done an excellent job.” Jacques opened the package and dumped the contents on the desk in front of him. Using the data provided by Serena and Desiree, the Colonel had created a complete identity for him to memorize.

  Inside the package he found a French passport, a French driver’s license, an honorable discharge from the Legion, and a Visa card imprinted with his new name, Roland Jacques Armand. Printed on a few sheets of flimsy, easily destroyed pieces of paper was a personal history he could memorize and destroy. Fortunately, since he was only 25 years of age, and according to his new ID, he had spent the last five years in the Legion, many complicating details were not necessary. He was an orphan, never married, and had no children.