The Gene of Life

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The Gene of Life Page 21

by Tetsuo Ted Takashima


  A shaft of light moved beyond the shroud of dust. It was a flashlight.

  “Over here!” Max shouted.

  “The emergency exit won’t open!” the guard shouted, coughing as he ran from the emergency exit. “Go to the main exit!”

  Just then, flames shot up from the hole in the floor. Max ran back to the room in a hurry as the sprinklers went on. He tore a piece of cloth off a lab coat and wet it to cover Katya’s face, then dashed through the smoke toward the main exit. In the lobby they passed firefighters on their way in.

  Max grabbed one of them by the arm. “What happened!?”

  “There was an explosion underground.”

  “Is anyone injured?”

  “Three that we know of. They’ve been taken to the university hospital.”

  “Is anyone else still here?”

  “We’re going to find out now.”

  Outside the building, there was a mass of parked fire trucks, ambulances, and police cars.

  “Stay away from the building,” blared a police megaphone. “There could be more explosions.” Officers pushed back the crowd that had begun to gather.

  Katya was waking up. A paramedic tried to take her into an ambulance, but she refused.

  “Why?”

  Max stood there, stunned. Katya’s question echoed in his otherwise blank head. There was a strange odor in the air, a mix of burnt chemicals, plastics, organic matter, and more. From the building’s wreckage, white fumes that could be smoke, or perhaps dust, rose to the sky.

  The next day, newspaper headlines sounded the alarm.

  START OF GLOBAL BIO-WAR?

  WORLD WAR III BREWS OVER GENES

  LEADING-EDGE AMERICAN BIO-LAB TARGETED

  That afternoon, the fire department and the police began their inspections. The bomb had detonated under Max’s experiment room. Of the twenty-seven lab rooms on the first and second floors, the one that had sustained the most damage was Max’s. The adjacent cell storage room and equipment warehouse were also partially destroyed. The power to the cell storage room was out for half a day, and all the frozen samples were now useless.

  The center of the floor had collapsed underground, and the heat of the fire almost completely destroyed the computer data. Miraculously, the other experiment rooms had suffered little to no damage.

  “Several bombs were set in the basement,” explained one of the firefighters. “Looks like there were also fire-starting explosives such as napalm. Whoever’s behind this seems to have broken into the lab disguised as someone inspecting the air-conditioning system. A few security guards have corroborated that. They knew the inspection was scheduled Saturday night. The car the bomber drove and the uniform he wore weren’t fakes, and the maintenance company reported the theft. When a guard called the company, he was told they’d dispatched the worker. The company’s switchboard was evidently tampered with, so that any call made to the company would be redirected to the bomber.” The firefighter closed his memo pad.

  A plainclothes detective was standing by the firefighter. “The hit was meticulously planned. The criminal’s car carried a few pounds of explosives into the building’s basement service entrance. He used the latest plastic explosives, too, and the time bomb was an elaborate IC-based bomb. They’re not easy to get. It was set on an underground pipe, and it was like a napalm bomb, basically. Think of it like a time bomb filled with combustibles to deliberately start a fire. It was set to go off a few minutes after the first explosion. Destroy the place, then burn it down. This was the work of a terrorist organization, no doubt about it. Still remember the Oklahoma City bombing. One hundred sixty-eight people killed, five hundred or so injured.” The detective was looking into the hole opened by the explosion, but turned to Max. “It’s like they were aiming for your room specifically.”

  “Then they could’ve just set those bombs in the experiment room itself.”

  “It’s hard to get inside the lab. You can’t enter without a card and PIN. But all you have to do to get to the basement is pretend to be with a company they do business with. Makes sense, doesn’t it?” the detective said matter-of-factly, “it happened at midnight on a Saturday. That’s why there were zero deaths, unbelievably enough. Only five people got injured, and one of them’s a guard who fell down the stairs. Usually, the kill count of an explosion on this scale is in the double digits. It couldn’t be clearer they were only aiming to destroy the facility.”

  Max looked at the hole. Bent and dented steel girders were poking out from the concrete, and they could see the underground parking lot in between the gaps. The stench of burnt plastic and rubber was still hanging in the air.

  The detective scowled. “Any idea who did this?”

  Max didn’t know how to reply.

  “It’s possible a rival lab did this to delay your research, wouldn’t you say? There’s got to be a lot of competition when it comes to genetic research. I hear there’s money in it.”

  “We’re scientists, not barbarians. This attack has set back the whole world’s genetic research by a few years,” he said, the words coming fiercer than he’d anticipated.

  “Which I’m sure loads of people are thrilled about,” pressed the detective. “What about an environmental group? Like, say, Green Lands. The extremist group that opposes biotechnology. The police haven’t gone public with it yet, but they have declared their intent to turn to crime. Don’t trespass into God’s realm, they say. Though you’ll forgive a scientific illiterate like me for thinking they’ve got a point.”

  “Yeah, well, sometimes God’s whims cause outrageous suffering. Should we just sit down and take our licks? Maybe people have a right to fight against God’s cruel jokes.”

  The detective was taken aback by Max’s outburst.

  The investigation was over, and Max drove home.

  “The bombing was laser-focused to destroy my experiment room,” Max said.

  “You’re being paranoid, Professor. Where the bombs were placed was pure chance. You heard what the police said: it was an act of terrorism against biotechnology.”

  “Is that what you honestly believe?”

  Katya didn’t answer.

  “They wiped away one of mankind’s treasures,” he groaned.

  “The institute stored one hundred seventy-five thousand items of genetic information and research data, the result of decades of research by eighty-seven researchers. People’s lifelong research, their blood, sweat, and tears—all gone.”

  “But no one died. And that’s a miracle. As long as we’re alive, we can continue researching.” Katya gently put her hand on Max’s shoulder.

  “This may be my opportunity to call it quits. The idea we humans can bend life to our will is just hubris.”

  “That sounds like what the Nazis are doing, not us.”

  “Are you telling me to fight the Nazis? That’s what spurred them to develop the atom bomb.”

  “You have to fulfill that promise to your brother.”

  “It’s like Medusa’s blood,” he muttered.

  “Medusa, as in the Gorgon?”

  “Medusa’s blood was so cursed that when it hit the ground, it spawned venomous snakes. Maybe I should just die and take my cursed blood down with me.”

  “But Medusa’s blood also gave birth to Pegasus—a beautiful white horse that flies through the sky,” Katya said.

  “In any case, this bombing is my responsibility.”

  With that, Max kept quiet and drove down the road. Katya also was silent.

  The summer sun was shining down on the Californian vista.

  That evening, Max was in his study at home. He had barely slept since the bombing, as he’d been swamped with drawing up the documents he had to submit to the university and the state. His head was swimming; he had no idea what to do, and he no longer even had a grasp on what was unfolding. The only thing keeping him going was his sense of responsibility regarding the laboratory.

  Suddenly, he heard a clattering noise. He look
ed up to find the door to the study open and a man standing there. A tall, strong, well-built man.

  “Joe?” Max said.

  “Your front door was unlocked. And your security’s off, too. This may be a good neighborhood, but you’re being careless, particularly at a time like this.”

  “I just don’t care anymore.”

  “You went through a nasty experience. I sympathize.” Feldman walked over to him unhurriedly. “This is how they do things.”

  “Why are they destroying my research?”

  “Because your research got to the heart of their operation. This was a warning. Next time, they’ll take your life. I take that back—they were aiming for your life. You’re a lucky man, Professor,” Feldman said coolly. He took a seat on the sofa in front of the desk. The not unpleasant aroma of cigars wafted faintly. It stirred in Max a strange sense of nostalgia.

  Feldman continued. “What did you discover? Would you be so kind as to inform us?”

  “Are you telling me your syndicate doesn’t already know?”

  “We have a general idea, but even that’s just the conjecture of laymen. I may have intelligence men and dealers of destruction for allies, but I don’t know any pro-life scientists.”

  “I can’t continue my research anymore. Everything’s gone. I’ve got nothing left.”

  Feldman sighed. “Professor . . .” He tapped himself on the head. “You still have it all right here. And the world’s greatest intellect. Data and specimens are mere matter. You have something here that is more valuable. You have wisdom and creativity. No supercomputer or library or laboratory can top your mind. I’ll add a third—courage. You ventured into the depths of the Amazon and came back with something to show for it.” Feldman was calm, but what he’d said, he’d said with passion.

  “Did you pressure the newspaper to publish those corrections about that ‘scandal’ article? Are you the one who pulled strings with Theodor Roemheld?”

  “I was gathering evidence corroborating Jake’s report, and investigating what sort of organization attacked Domba,” Feldman said, his tone reverting to calm. His reply evaded the question. “Unfortunately, we still haven’t reached any conclusions. About a dozen white people were wearing the same camouflage uniform as the left-wing guerrillas of neighboring countries. The copter they were in was a medium-sized UH-1 transport copter. UH-1s are used by the US military to transport soldiers. And they were armed with Kalashnikovs. When they rounded up the inhabitants, they shot them indiscriminately. That’s all we know.”

  “That’s all the info you need to identify them. That, and familiarity with the lay of the land. There must be a base nearby. The incident didn’t get much international attention, they blamed it on guerrillas. This group must have sway with Brazil’s government,” Max said as Feldman listened silently.

  “In our world, we can’t act based on assumptions. The higher-ups aren’t so brave.”

  “There’s somebody higher up than you?”

  “An organization that gives us money and manpower.”

  “Are they able to catch the guys that blew up the lab?”

  “I fight because I believe they can.”

  “In that case, send me to them. I’ll negotiate with them myself.” After witnessing the violence at the farmhouse and the lab, and the firefight at the old factory site, he knew this wasn’t a war he could wage alone.

  “Professor,” Feldman fixed his eyes on Max, “that’s not your concern. Leave those sorts of things to us. Besides, you’re still hiding something. Tell us everything you know. Our organization won’t cave in to them, either.” Feldman placed the newspaper he’d been holding in front of Max.

  The paper’s headline jumped out at him: IS EVIL UPON US AGAIN? FAR-RIGHT PARTIES GAIN POWER ACROSS EUROPE. The article detailed how France’s far-right party had gained power in the recent election. In celebration, neo-Nazis were holding rallies all over the continent.

  “It’s got nothing to do with me.”

  “That’s what everybody says, Professor. And that’s how the world’s tragedies happen.”

  “So, the ends justify the means? They still haven’t caught the Dörrenwald bombers. Neo-Nazis aren’t the only ones who are violent. I think your organization was more than capable,” Max said.

  Feldman lowered his eyes and paused to think. After a moment, he looked up and stared at Max.

  “I like you, Professor. I respect you. I want your cooperation. I believe mutual trust comes from a relationship where neither party keeps secrets.”

  “I knew it. That bombing was done by you guys.”

  “It happened because of the recklessness of Simon and his subordinates. After Simon’s death, a Galil sniper rifle was found in his apartment. Galils are Israeli guns. Semtex, a plastic explosive, was found there, too. It must have been left over from the bombing. The organization itself had nothing to do with it. Simon simply hated Nazism with every fiber of his being.” Feldman’s voice shook. “Cancer had spread throughout his body. I told you how the Nazis experimented on him. They bathed his body in radiation, supposedly to learn about the connection between radiation and sterilization. And then, those Nazi scum took his . . . he knew he was dying, so he took action. He wanted vengeance on Gehlen and Benchell while he still drew breath.”

  Feldman looked down and said nothing. Max stood up and pulled a DVD out from between two books on the shelf. He inserted it into his laptop, and an image appeared. Aska’s vermiform appendix, video of cell division, and the results of the DNA analysis also showed on screen. Then Max appeared, speaking about the telomeres and telomerase in Aska’s A-cells, and about embryonic stem cells.

  Feldman stared at the screen. The video ended, and Max turned the computer off, but Feldman continued to think. Soon the sunlight disappeared, and the room turned dark.

  “Benchell’s alive,” murmured Feldman. “And they’re going to stay alive indefinitely. We can’t let that happen.” His hands were shaking.

  “God let them live,” Max said.

  “God wouldn’t do that. They cheated God!” he said, glaring up at him. “I don’t mind selling my soul if it means I can kill him with my own two hands.” For a moment, hatred flashed across his face. But just as suddenly, his characteristic calm returned.

  “What are they trying to accomplish?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

  “If you ask me, you’ve got both an organization that can oppose them, and the passion.”

  “Many are skeptical about digging up the ghosts of the past.” Feldman sighed, before steeling his face. “Can I have that DVD?”

  “No. This is just conjecture on my part. We’ll be gathering the scientific proof from here on out.”

  Feldman nodded weakly. “Something is starting to move on the world stage. I can feel it. Neo-Nazi activities around the world are getting more forceful and more energetic. Given that, Benchell really must be alive.”

  “I said everything I know. It’s your turn now. You’re hiding something.”

  “I can’t say anything for now. We need time. We’re looking into their objectives, their base of operations, their funding, their connections. Please wait a little longer. All I can say is that they’re on the move. And that I will need your help to stop them.” Feldman heaved a deep sigh. “Hitler was extensively psychoanalyzed. He was calm and cautious. He was also cunning. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have survived so long. He used body doubles, and always had escape routes planned. On paper, he committed suicide, shooting himself with a pistol on April 30, 1945, in an underground bunker, and was doused with petrol and burned to death along with his wife. But there’s no evidence to support that story.”

  “Who are you looking for, Hitler?”

  “Perhaps.”

  A long pause. Feldman was walking aimlessly in the darkness. Max suddenly had a thought: This is the ghosts’ resurrection.

  “The Fourth Reich is coming back,” Feldman said from the shadows.

&n
bsp; “The Fourth Reich?”

  “The empire they plan to create in the wake of Hitler’s Germany.”

  “No! It can’t happen!”

  Feldman pushed the newspaper at Max. “The signs are here, and all over the globe, too. The stirrings of the neo-Nazis, the criticisms against Jewish organizations, and the gathering strength of right-wing groups. Some are even trying to justify Hitler’s crimes. I don’t think all of it is about creating the Fourth Reich, but the world is moving in a dangerous direction.”

  “Where’s Jake?”

  “In Europe. France, Germany, Italy. After he returned from Brazil, he’s been flying all around. We’re not playing. And all this calls for communing with God as well.”

  Max frowned, and his head began to ache. His body grew heavy, and something that felt like tar stuck inside him. He closed his eyes and massaged between his brows. By the time he opened his eyes, Feldman was gone, and the door thunked to a close behind him.

  The comeback of the Fourth Reich. That dreaded empire’s name echoed ominously in his mind.

  ● ● ●

  V

  * * *

  THE LABORATORY

  CHAPTER 18

  A week had passed since the bombing. With the help of university administration and the state government, the institute was repaired ahead of schedule. All new research equipment had been brought in as well. Dr. Owens played a central role, working not just for the US but for all the world to see that the facility was ready for new research.

  Researchers had lost heartbreaking amounts of data, materials, and samples, but they were pleased with the initiative to rebuild. Dr. Owens tapped his wide network of contacts and planned a new laboratory complex with all the latest equipment and facilities—and in record time, too.

 

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