The Gene of Life

by Tetsuo Ted Takashima

  The door burst open. A shadowy figure leapt in, and Max hit him with the poker with all his strength. He felt the recoil in his arms, and the man collapsed. A gun with a silencer fell to the floor. Max picked it up and aimed it, but the man was motionless. Max, seeing Katya was about to get up, motioned for her to stay down.

  They heard more glass breaking and another man jumped through the broken window. Katya screamed. He was wearing night-vision goggles and holding an automatic rifle.

  “Get down!” Max shouted.

  Katya fell to the floor, and Max’s gun fired simultaneously. The man fell backward.

  The shooting started again. Bullet after silenced bullet ripped through the logs, tearing through the books and figurines on the shelves. Max crawled closer to Katya, hugging her shoulders and hiding behind the sofa. He felt a burning sensation on his left arm.

  Suddenly the shooting stopped.

  There was a faint creaking noise from the deck. Max picked up his gun. He could sense Katya’s trembling.

  “He’s coming,” she said.

  “Stay here.” Max lifted his hand from Katya’s shoulder and moved toward the wall.

  He touched his left arm. It felt wet, but he wasn’t in pain.

  More rounds blasted through the logs. Max repeatedly pulled the trigger, aiming at the darkness outside, but soon the chamber stuck. He’d run out of ammo.

  They heard the screech of tires and the braking of several cars. They heard a car door open, and the sounds of multiple people getting out. They heard a mix of footsteps, gunfire, and barked orders. No silencers this time.

  Once again, a hush. Now they could hear the sound of the waves. A figure appeared on the deck. Max put down the gun and picked up the poker.

  The door flung open, and a man wearing a ski mask and holding an automatic rifle jumped in. He trained his gun on Max. Katya screamed and jumped up. Max pushed Katya away and stood in front of the man. The muzzle was pointed at Max’s chest. Max closed his eyes as a shot rang out.

  “NO!” Katya’s scream rang in his ears.

  When he opened his eyes, the gunman toppled toward Max, blood pouring from the holes in his back. A man in night-vision goggles holding an automatic rifle stood in the door. Max took the gun from the fallen man and aimed it at him.

  “Don’t shoot! It’s me!” The man took off his night-vision goggles.

  It was Feldman.

  Just then, the fallen man’s eyes opened and looked at Feldman. He tried to speak, and lifted his arm, but Feldman nonchalantly lifted his own arm and pulled the trigger. The man reeled back, and his eyes closed.

  “You didn’t have to shoot the guy,” Max said.

  “I know a lot of good souls who died thinking the same.”

  The beams of flashlights intersected and lit the room. Two men with automatic rifles came in behind Feldman, keeping an eye on the area. Max turned on a large battery-powered lamp. Glass shards and debris were scattered all over the room, and white feathers from the ruined cushions blanketed the floor like snow. Katya squeezed Max’s hand. Her eyes were bloodshot.

  “You’re injured!” she cried, looking at Max’s arm.

  “It’s just a scratch.”

  Katya sat him down on the sofa and examined his wound.

  “I told you not to act on your own.” Feldman’s tone was uncharacteristically harsh.

  “We just came to rest here, that’s all.”

  “I suppose that’s fine, if you plan to take the kind of break that lasts forever,” Feldman said, as he helped Katya tear off Max’s shirtsleeve.

  A man came in and raised his right hand toward Max. It was Jake. He gave Feldman a box the size of a cigarette pack.

  “This was attached to your car, Professor. It’s a transmitter, locatable via GPS.

  “Did they set it?”

  “It wasn’t us. But we did make use of it.”

  Max told Katya where to find the first aid kit. Feldman signaled for Jake to open the front door to several men in black clothing to start putting the corpses in body bags.

  “This is the second time,” Feldman said. “What would’ve happened if we’d arrived a minute later? Work with us a little more, the both of you.”

  “I’m thankful for your impeccable timing.” Max finished treating his wound and put an arm around Katya’s shoulders. He could feel her heart pounding.

  Max looked around the room. “It looks like a hurricane and a tornado struck at the same time.”

  “These are people whose ideology revolves around ethnic cleansing. They don’t blink at the thought of killing you.”

  “I’m just a scientist.”

  “The scientist that knows their secrets.”

  “You mean Father Yunov’s DNA and cells?”

  “I bet the results are in by now. What did you find?”

  “It was just as he said. He was kept alive by a girl. The priest’s cells had Aska’s genes integrated into them. Aska’s bone marrow cell transplantation increased his telomerase secretion, created unique proteins, and repaired genetic damage. The cells continued to divide without becoming cancerous. That’s the secret of his youth. Though it’s much more complicated to explain.”

  “Mightn’t this information be useful in treating your own disease, Professor? I sent them to you with that in mind.”

  Max didn’t answer. Jake and the others had finished putting the bodies in bags, and were carrying them out.

  “They’ll handle it. Nothing happened here. It’s just a quiet lakeside vacation house. You enjoyed some time off with a beautiful woman. Unfortunately, you tripped on the stairs and hurt your arm. Accidents happen.” Feldman shrugged.

  “Why did you come back to the States?”

  “I want to protect you, Professor. I am rather fond of you. And, the world needs you. I want you to live longer. I don’t want you to die because of a daft little accident.” His expression turned harsher as he stared at Max. “And, we are getting closer to Benchell. I can smell it. No matter how many times he changes his face, physique, or voice . . .” He clasped his hands in front of his chest and struggled to keep in his emotions.

  Max remembered Feldman’s words: If they and I end up in the same place, that’s fine by me. So long as I get to bury the Nazis.

  “There was a problem with Aztec Labs after all.” Feldman took a deep breath. He returned to his calm tone of voice.

  “I want to get closer, but this is our problem. If an amateur pokes his neck in, his life is over.” Feldman looked around. The windowpanes were gone, and all but the bullets that had burrowed into the walls had been cleaned up. “We will be watching tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll leave at dawn and get you home. We will provide you with bodyguards at home. Sound reasonable?” Judging by his tone, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Max had no choice but to nod. Feldman yawned conspicuously and left the cabin, massaging the space between his eyes with his fingers.

  CHAPTER 28

  In the morning Max and Katya returned to Allon, their car sandwiched between Feldman’s vehicles. An unfamiliar tinted-glass van was parked in front of the house. When they went in, Nancy greeted Max as if nothing was unusual. But she knew something was up.

  That night, Max sat at his computer. On the screen were the results of the DNA analysis from the Eoghan Research Institute. Katya was beside him, staring at the screen with the same frown on her face as Max.

  “There is no laboratory or equipment we can use,” Katya said. “All we have are DNA and cell samples.”

  “But sitting around is fruitless.”

  “I think we should infiltrate Aztec again.” Katya pushed Max out of the way and took over, typing away like a jazz pianist. The contents of the screen changed. Katya looked intently at the website she’d pulled up.

  “Pacific Construction.” Max read. “This is the company that built Aztec Labs, isn’t it?”

  “Bingo!”

  “They should still have blueprints. It was built five years ago.”

  T
he screen changed again. For two hours, photos, drawings, specification documents, and price estimates appeared. Katya got up and stretched. There were shadows under her eyes, and fatigue was written on her face.

  “Let me do it,” Max said.

  “You should use your talents for more important things. We each have our own area. This is mine.”

  “You shouldn’t put yourself down. You’re more than talented.”

  “That’s what my elementary school teacher used to say. My middle school and high school teachers, too. In the eyes of most, I’m really talented. My teachers, classmates, neighbors, and relatives still believe in me. But no one knows me better than myself. And I know I’m not as talented as you are.”

  “Talent is for the outside world to appraise. It’s not for you yourself to label.”

  “If I work myself to death, can I leave behind research achievements on your level?”

  “It’s not impossible,” he replied. “New discoveries are 20 percent talent and 50 percent effort.”

  “What about the remaining 30 percent?”

  “The whims of God. Pure luck.”

  “You’re too nice, Professor.”

  Katya put her finger on Max’s lips. Resignation, loneliness—Max could sense them in her smile. He’d experienced those same emotions for different reasons.

  Katya slapped herself on the cheeks and turned to her computer again. After an hour, she took her fingers off the keyboard and heaved a sigh.

  “There’s a record of the construction of Aztec Labs, but there are no documents left.”

  “The disposal of the plans must have been a condition for the lab’s construction. What security company are they using?”

  “They have their own security. Former SS and Gestapo officers. Security is their strong point.”

  Max moved the mouse. After a few clicks, a column of names came up.

  “It’s a list of Pacific Construction designers. There are probably laboratory designers in this list. Maybe the designer of Aztec Labs has the plans.”

  “As a designer you wouldn’t want to delete your own blueprints, but how do we find who was in charge?”

  “Few laboratories can perform genetic manipulation. Aztec has P4 laboratories. You should search for designers who have experience designing P4 laboratories.”

  She searched for about an hour, but couldn’t find anybody matching that description.

  “Wait!” she shouted, just as she’d been about to give up. “Maybe they were outsourced!” Katya pulled up a list of outsourced designers. “Daniel Allson. He also designed P4 labs at Stanford University and the University of California, plus some of the major West Coast labs. He’s with Allson Design Office. He’s the director, too.” When Katya searched the office name, dozens of results appeared.

  She went to the website. “Director Allson seems to like the limelight.” His career history showed photos of him receiving architectural awards, wearing a cowboy hat, kissing golf and fishing trophies. “I know talent and appearance have nothing to do with each other, but here the gap is really wide.”

  “Look at that photo of him in a yacht race,” Max said.

  “A guy like that isn’t going to ever delete his blueprints.” Katya scrolled down the page to read his past work. “No record of Aztec Labs. He deleted it. He kept his promise to destroy the material.”

  “No,” Max said, “he just hasn’t got the balls to put it on his website. Would you delete your own paper and data after presenting your thesis? No, especially, if you’re proud of them.”

  “Apples and oranges,” said Katya.

  “It’s just human psychology, and this guy’s especially susceptible.”

  “Maybe we can access the office’s directory.” Katya sat down again.

  Another hour passed. Max brought two cups of coffee, and Katya leaned in close to the screen, tracing the text with a finger.

  “This is the one thing I’m better at than you, Professor. I’m inside the network at Allson Architects.” Katya took her cup. “Five years ago, he was working with Pacific Construction. Look, it says ‘La Cruz Bay Park.’ But there is no park by that name around there.” With a click, dozens of photos appeared. “Aztec Labs!”

  A beautiful lab complex with the sea in the background. The photos chronicled the process of laying the foundation on bare rock and gradually forming the shape of the buildings.

  Max typed, the screen changed. The building on the side of the road was a research facility for genetically modified plants.

  “Here, the plants are genetically modified and new species of plants are artificially created. This building is the face of the facility.”

  The middle building, meanwhile, was just an office building.

  “There’s no sign of the third building, the one by the sea,” said Katya.

  “It’s the same size as the other buildings. Which were you taken to?”

  “I don’t know which building it was in, but they took me to a medical office. I think it was in the basement. The current was faster than I’d expected, and I’d swallowed way too much seawater. But I have to say, the facilities were top-notch. Comparable to any large hospital. I looked around while pretending to be unconscious. There was an X-ray machine, a CT scan, and an artificial dialysis machine. All the latest stuff, too.”

  Max stopped typing. Drawings appeared on the screen. The third building on the sea side. The drawings were detailed, even describing the types of locks on the main doors. “Room layout, size, power distribution equipment, plumbing, everything is special.”

  “Here. Their secret research is being conducted in this building,” Katya said, pointing at the text: “P4, computer room, shower room.” She pulled up detailed shots of the interior. “They still have all the blueprints and photos, even the restrooms and the shape of the door keys. I have to thank Director Allson for his pathological meticulousness.”

  “If his clients ever found out, he’d get shot. And if he ever found out they were Nazis, he’d be scared shitless.”

  “It’s inaccessible by sea.” Katya traced the coastline with her fingertips. “I couldn’t do it.”

  “When I was in elementary school, I almost drowned in an Olympic-size pool, so I decided to do athletics and stay away from pools.”

  “Al from the boathouse says they’re watching the ocean by radar. If anybody gets too close, they tell you to keep out through the speakers. No mercy for trespassers.” Katya drank her coffee as she typed. “Some of these files are about security.” The big-picture blueprint of the complex detailed the locations of surveillance cameras and infrared surveillance devices mounted on the surrounding walls. “It was here that the guards stopped us before,” she said, pointing.

  Max put a ruler on the blueprint and drew some lines—the effective range of the cameras and infrared surveillance devices. Max’s car had definitely been monitored when they were there.

  “These surveillance cameras eliminate any potential blind spots.”

  “These are the basic specifications of the security system he proposed. If these plans were modified by the active-duty Gestapo, then there really is no way to get in.”

  The two surfed around the architect’s website for a while.

  “Do we have no choice but to blend in with the food suppliers?”

  Katya typed and pointed to the screen. She found the website of the food company that delivered to Aztec Labs. At the beginning of the week, they brought in a week’s worth of food.

  “So, we suit up as T-bone steaks and sneak in that way, huh? I don’t know about you, but cabbage suits me better.”

  “Don’t be silly. Is there no other way?”

  “It’s as Feldman said—we are not professional spies.”

  “So, you just want to rot and die? Even if that means breaking your promise to your brother?” Katya said.

  “I have never once forgotten about my brother.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Max mulled it over. Chisele
d into his mind was the image of a wheelchair-bound Alex staring at his own impending death. “Let’s call it a night. I’m sure Alex will forgive me for getting some sleep.”

  He turned off the computer and went to the window. Vans were parked across the street. Were they protecting or watching them?

  Katya was about to say something, but instead she stood up with her own computer in her hand.

  Max sat looking out the window. It was a quiet residential area, with no sounds of passing cars. Bright lights illuminated the road, making the grass look greener and the walls whiter. It was after two in the morning. He turned to the desk, picked up the phone, and dialed. After the thirteenth ring, the other end picked up—just like old times. And, the voice on the other end didn’t say, “Hello?” This was just like old times.

  “It’s me.”

  “Is that you, Doctor? I’m doing fine, so don’t worry about me,” came a slightly high-pitched but calm voice. However, behind that calm, Max could sense a joy that couldn’t be fully concealed. “Thank you very much. An oddball named ‘Einstein’ is always sending me magazines. I especially enjoyed that German cryptographic book, and for a whole week.”

  Max was about to reply, but he couldn’t find the words.

  “What’s the matter? You call me out of the blue, and now you clam up? That’s not like you.”

  “I have a favor to ask. It’s just that it’s a pretty big ask.”

  In a dimly lit room in a large house’s basement in the New York City suburbs, the screens of several computers emitted pale light, and the keystrokes sounded like a techno-incantation. In front of those computers sat a pale boy with thick glasses who looked as tall and thin as a straw—or at least, that was the scene Max was picturing. The boy was over six feet tall, and weighed 140 pounds.

  “I promised I’d do anything for you. You saved my life.”

  Max talked for about thirty minutes. The boy listened silently. People talking to him for the first time never knew whether he was listening or not, and Max had been no exception. He knew now, however, that the boy was absorbing every single word he uttered.

  “Can you do it?”