THE PRICE SHE'LL PAY: For the secret she never knew she had...

by Cara Charles

  “If you’re up to it. I have my doubts. But, yes. I’d say a big bash is much deserved by all,” Dr. Wise said his focus back on his centrifuge.

  “My team and I will arrange it, won’t we Carlos?”

  D, Kenny and Carlos smiled and nodded, like the three monkeys.

  “Get Ms. Kimirov to her doctor, Carlos. Dr. Wise? Doctors? Shall we say, eight p.m. tomorrow night? Black tie, in the auditorium?” D asked.

  They all nodded from their stations, without losing their concentration.

  “Get that tape translated D. I’d like to be able to read the transcript to the scientists at the banquet,” Mavra said as she left holding her nose. D handed the camera bag to Kenny.

  Janitor swept the corridor outside the lab with his special i-Pod on.

  D held the door for Carlos. Mavra left the lab with Carlos. D saluted Carlos and he smiled and nodded, so glad to be on the last leg of his duty.

  D caught Kenny’s eye before he closed the door behind them.

  Kenny blinked, acknowledging D with his eyes. Kenny entered the office.

  Shanti leaned back against the wall.

  “Elvis has left the building,” Janitor entered and said in his best Memphis accent.

  The scientists laughed, releasing tension.

  Shanti caught his eye.

  He went back to his janitor duties. Feeling her eyes on him, Janitor nodded.

  Shanti followed Janitor with her eyes, when Kenny was not looking at her.

  The wide-eyed scientists gathered like children at the zoo, to watch Shanti and smile at her.

  Kenny stood back in the corner of the small glass office, marveling at her demeanor and the awe in their eyes when he realized not one female scientist was hired, perhaps because they were more principled than these men.

  ‘They are falling in love.’ Kenny knew why. Kenny watched Janitor at his duties. He needed to know, if he was friend or foe. A showdown was on the horizon.

  Kenny watched the scientists. There were a few, whose eyes said they were completely engaged with their intellect, measuring her like any unique lab specimen. Those men were the ones that worried him. He’d surprise them later, checking their rooms for signs they were talking with someone on the outside.

  Shanti left the office to shake each scientist by the hand, saying nothing. Her eyes spoke for her.

  Kenny took Dr. Wise aside. “Where can the Professor lay down and refresh herself?”

  “It’s been prepared,” Dr. Wise said smiling at her. “Come.”

  Dr. Wise offered her his hand. They took Shanti to the upstairs dorm rooms that he had prepared. Kenny’s room was next door.

  Thirty minutes later, “Dr. Wise, please come to the lab,” his walkie said.

  Dr. Wise ran down the stairs, terrified of what the urgency could be.

  His Chief lab assistant met him at the door report in hand, shaking his head, “It’s A pos. She’s gonna flip out.”

  “You’re sure?” Dr. Wise read the machine results of the typing, and the CBC.

  “Ran it twice. A pos. She’s gonna flip out.”

  “Anastasia Romanov. Like I thought. Get me another typing kit. I’ll re-draw her and type it myself, manually.”

  “I typed it manually too, with same result. Type A. She’s gonna flip out.”

  “I’ll handle Miss Priss. Go to the next test, everyone. Throw this DNA up on the screen. She won’t know the difference and she’ll be too drugged up from surgery.”

  A vacant look came over all of them. Their dream life was unraveling. Dr. Wise grabbed two needles, two syringes, lab tubes, a buccal swab kit, went back upstairs, lab results in hand, then burst in Kenny’s door.

  Kenny bolted up gun in hand, awakened from much needed sleep. His gun pointed at Dr. Wise. He saw the paper dangling from Dr. Wise’s hand.

  “Nice try. So you’ve had a change of heart? What about the others?” Dr. Wise asked, closing the door.

  “Yes, both Dimitri and I. That’s why I tried. But, we need a favor. Carlos. He’s out of our way, going back home as soon as he dumps Mavra at the surgeon’s, he’s had enough.”

  “Welcome aboard. I’ll take care of it. I need your blood sample and I’ll get hers. And Carlos? Dead or alive?”

  “Alive. His memory wiped back two weeks at least. Is that even possible? You can find him in a small town called San Francisco near Costa Careyes resort, north of Puerto Vallarta, Nayarit, Mexico.”

  “Should be easy enough. It will be done.” Dr. Wise took Kenny’s blood, then left for Shanti’s room.

  Kenny was relieved but troubled. Now he couldn’t return to sleep.

  Dr. Wise knocked on Shanti’s door.

  Later, with everyone napping except Dr. Wise’s personal microbiologist, within minutes he was hard at work again on Dr. Wise’s newly acquired samples.

  Dr. Titus escorted his new friend into Janitor’s village apartment.

  Janitor was sweeping the entrance hall when an elderly bi-speckled wild haired man of seventy breezed through the front doors, searching for the head mistress’s office.

  “May I help you sir?” Janitor said in his best Cosmopolitan accent.

  “Oh? Hello. I’m Dr. Grover Henry, Professor Emeritus from UCLA, expert in Nilo-Saharan languages. I was told to report to an Australian chap. Kenny? His name escapes me because I’m jet lagged from my two plane trips. A private jet brought me to translate a videotape. Wanted an urgent Ge’ez metaphrase translation. Luckily I’d just arrived in Cambridge for a language symposium when I got the summons.”

  “Yes sir, would that be Kenny Smithe-Jones?” Janitor said taking the professor’s coat.

  “Yes. That’s the chap.”

  “I was instructed to get you started in that office. Tape is cued up. Just push play on the video camera and push stop. Tape recorder for your translation is there. Both of us can assist you with the unfamiliar equipment. I’ll return straight away with Mr. Smithe-Jones.”

  “Thank you. I don’t usually drop everything for just anyone, but…”

  “Much appreciated, I’m sure. I’ll return with a tea tray, as well,” Janitor hurried upstairs, with his coat and the wallet he had pick pocketed from the professor, “…the money was simply too good to refuse.”

  Dr. Grover Henry was under pressure to return to his Cambridge symposium. He had a paper to present at nine a.m. the next morning. He’d told the pilot and driver to wait. He was no fool. Of course, he took her money.

  Dr. Henry pushed play on the camera’s cued videotape. There on the small screen was a beautiful young African woman, possibly Ethiopian he presumed by her bone structure, rolling her head side to side, obviously drugged. Alarmed and angered, he was about to bolt when this beautiful Ethiopian said in Ge’ez --

  “They called me Nana Bubu. They called me Sheba. I’ve lived many lives. Again I’m a prisoner of the powerful and greedy…”

  Dr. Henry had to create an alternative to her true confession, in real time. If he gave Miss Kimirov the real translation, she’d never let the woman go. Kimirov needed him to confirm this woman was not an African Anastasia and confirmation the woman was confessing to be the Queen of Sheba, and the Ethiopians revered Earth Mother, a claim the woman herself was making. He didn’t want his reputation sullied by any association with this beautiful, delusional woman, or Miss Jet Set, or this lab, smacking of the taboo science from the war years.

  “I come from a remote village in the highlands of Ethiopia. There the ancient language of Sheba, the Ge’ez language is still taught mother to daughter for generations…”

  Janitor brought a nice tea tray and tea goodies. Janitor poured as the good doctor nodded, appreciating the tea, but continued creatively translating.

  Dr. Henry nodded yes for milk, two sugars. Dr. Henry sipped, keeping his throat moist, toasted the butler posing as a janitor on his perfect cup of English tea, keeping a neutral smile on his face, his mind creating in spite of what he was actually hearing.

  Dr.
Henry continued, “…Ge’ez is the language of Sheba the Queen of Ethiopia, the most powerful woman of her age and the ages that followed. But long before Sheba, was our Creator mother, Nana Bubu from which all language and power flows…” Dr. Henry said into the recorder. Dr. Henry went on for thirty minutes.

  Janitor cleaned windows.

  Kenny entered, nodded to the Professor, but remained quiet.

  Finished now, nervous Dr. Henry signaled Janitor for his coat.

  “Coat, please my good man. I had heard this story, long ago in my undergrad days, and of this passing down of their language, an ancient practice amongst the females in her village. I’d forgotten all about that. Thank Miss Kimirov for this opportunity to hear this ancient language in its living form.”

  Janitor helped Dr. Henry hurry into his winter coat.

  He shook hands with Janitor and Kenny, left the office not making eye contact again.

  Kenny knew the Doctor was spooked as he chased a fleeing Dr. Henry to the main doors, where his town car was still idling. Kenny watched the town car speed away, then went to the office to type up the translation, troubled by what it said. Kenny was confused by Shanti’s ordinary life story he was transcribing.

  Janitor listening to her audiotape again from his i-Pod, understanding Ge’ez, astonished by what Shanti was saying. Dr. Henry had lied, thereby protecting her.

  Hours later at 0630, London time, Dr. Henry was awakened in his Cambridge flat by his cell phone alarm. Today at 0900 he would present his paper.

  Janitor had wired the Doctor’s Zurich earnings to his usual charity. Janitor had gotten his bank account info from his wallet. Its origin traced back to Mavra’s hidden account. The thank you letter would be a surprise. He’d think the extra zeros were an underling’s mistake and forget all about it.

  Dr. Grover Henry would have no memory of the last twelve hours. The two pink pills in his tea did their duty, marvelously.

  Dimitri bolted upright in bed. He texted Kenny. ‘Madre Dios! Janitor is Colonel Torsen GCHQ!’

  Mavra was out, in a drugged sleep.

  Kenny returned, ‘You’re right. It all fits. We’ve got two more allies.’

  ‘Good. Mavra’s stopped vomiting from the surgery. Determined to party tonight.”

  ‘Ballsy broad. Glad she’s ur problem. C u later. Wanna sleep til 1900. ZZZZ.’

  D couldn’t sleep. He was developing the most brilliant plan of his life. He took his computer to the downstairs office and hooked it up to the printer.

  Later, as Mavra’s celebration party kick-off approached, Dr. Wise’s personal printer was spitting out his report as he showered.

  He had time to jump into his tux, and rush downstairs to the dining hall before the village clock tower struck eight.

  The tuxedoed scientists were milling outside the closed gymnasium doors, whispering, arguing their hypotheses.

  The string quartet chamber musicians were playing Op 20 No. 4 in C Major by Haydn.

  As the clock tower in the small village struck eight, the doors were opened by the white face mime Louis XVI look a like maître ‘d, dressed in a dove white satin brocade waist coat trimmed with bands of gold, plain dove white satin breeches, stockings, buckled shoes, and a powdered wig.

  “Entrée vous,” the Maître ‘d said, bowing as they entered.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN -- LET’S PARTY

  THE SCIENTISTS WERE LIKE KIDS at Disneyland, awestruck as they entered the gym.

  Billowy tangerine, pink, and gold draping hung from floor to ceiling. The room looked like a sunrise. The lighting was mysterious, soft, and romantic. Crystal prism droplets hung from the ceiling sending a million tiny rainbows around the room. Chandeliers hung everywhere suspended from a hidden steel ceiling frame. Huge ice sculptures rivaled the museums of Florence. Hors d’ouevre and sushi tables also overflowed with shrimp as big as your fist. Exotic flower arrangements adorned every table, only the best and scarce for Mavra Kimirov, despite the winter season.

  Ten servers in Louis XVI costumes, white-faced and powdered wigs stood at ease, behind an elegant elevated dais waiting for Mavra, Dimitri, Shanti, Kenny, and Dr. Wise. The costumed servers were dressed in her required serving costumes of Baroque metallic brocade double-breasted jackets, lace cravats, silver lame′ pantaloons, white stockings, buckled shoes, and white gloves. Dimitri knew her standard requirement for every function Mavra wanted her servers matching the décor, amusingly elegant, and deferential. Marie Antoinette would have been envious.

  A hush fell over the room. They’d arrived.

  Mavra dressed in a teal brocade ball gown entered, a veil covering her face bandages, on the arm of Dimitri in a silver brocade cut away.

  Shanti entered dressed in a gold brocade ball gown looking regal on the arm of Kenny, wearing a navy blue brocade cut away, followed by Dr. Wise in a Tom Ford black tux, carrying a hardcover report.

  The five of them parted the applauding crowd and sat on the dais, Shanti in the center, the honored guest.

  The servers brought trays of hors d’ouevres to the guests of honor and then their scientists were served.

  Dimitri approved the wine. They poured, leaving the Champagne flutes empty.

  Mavra sipped her wine.

  Dimitri took the glass out of her hand after a few sips.

  “Save yourself for the toast. Pain meds and alcohol don’t mix, Princessa.”

  Mavra nodded, a bit dopey on her pain meds.

  After lovely music, chat, and food, Dr. Wise clinked his flute with his salad fork. They took their seats. Servers stood at attention, staff refreshed the trays. The quartet took a break.

  “Our benefactor Miss Kimirov has set a monumental task for us. And… We have answered! Here are our department reports.”

  A cheer.

  The noise was getting to Mavra. She whispered to D. He leaned over to Dr. Wise relaying her message. He nodded. D signaled the Maître ‘d to serve.

  “Our preliminary report will be presented after we’ve had our meal,” Dr. Wise said. He set his report on the lectern.

  A disappointed groan went out amongst the scientists, replaced by delightful gasps as another ten costumed white-faced servers in brocade cutaways and wigs, entered carrying trays filled with enormous cracked lobster.

  There were two servers to each dais guest. Each pair served Shanti, Dimitri, Kenny, and Mavra, multiple courses of elegant food.

  The food made Mavra sleepier.

  D pulled a folder out of his jacket, opened a pen, and opened the folder, handing her the pen to sign a few documents. “Paychecks. And… Please sign and date the lease agreements for the car and the lab equipment.”

  “You know I don’t have my contacts in. Where do I sign?”

  D pointed.

  Mavra signed the checks, then signed and dated the contracts. D passed the checks and contracts to Dr. Wise who put them in his breast pocket. The last contract he left with Dr. Wise with instructions to leave it on the table. D whispered to Dr. Wise as the desserts with pink sugar crystals were set down.

  Mavra would be putting her head down on the table any second.

  D fed her a bite of cake.

  Dr. Wise stood, a bundle of unspent energy.

  He tapped his Champagne flute signaling to the servers to fill them for the toast. Magnums of Tete de Cuvee pleased the hushed room as the servers poured.

  Dr. Wise said, “Gentlemen…” And waited as the room hushed.

  Dr. Wise paused dramatically then began… “Our guest Professor Shanti Larsen’s Haplogroup is LO.”

  A cheer went up amongst the room.

  Dr. Wise turned to Mavra, “Professor Larsen has the oldest Haplogroup known to man. LO is the oldest, the original human group. The Tsumkwe and Bushman of the Okavango Delta, her closest living ancestors.”

  Kenny stole a look at D.

  D nodded slightly smiling, his attention on Dr. Wise. D’s hand dropped off his lap and slowly signed to Kenny, ‘look around.’

&nb
sp; Kenny looked around the room. One of the white-faced servers caught his eye. He watched him. Confused, Kenny furrowed his brow.

  D shook his head impatiently, ‘Closer.’

  Dr. Wise turns to a different table, “Her complete genome is still in analysis but, as our colleagues from Arizona State and Haifa’s, Rambam Medical Center will attest, Professor Larsen’s telomeres have the longest tails we’ve ever seen of groups known to have long tails.”

  Another cheer.

  Dr. Wise glanced at Kenny who was surveying the servers. He smiled at Kenny who smiled back…

  “We also have identified a variant not fully sequenced as of yet, but this variant may be responsible for the most telomerase ever recorded in one human. Ms. Larsen’s is off the chart, which explains why her’s are longest the telomeres we’ve ever seen. We have an extraordinary woman in our midst. We could be looking at the approach of immortality, coming closer to proving the hypothesis proffered by our benefactor Ms. Kimirov, and jump light years ahead developing telomerase-based therapies, and anti-aging therapies today, not years from now…”

  Their cheers exploded, washing over his words.

  “…Achieving Ms. Kimirov’s goal. I think it only proper to wait on the rest of the report until Ms. Kimirov is fully recovered so she doesn’t miss one interesting discovery. Agreed?”

  The room applauded.

  Dr. Wise looked at Mavra who was sleepy, but nodded. The wine was working. Dr. Wise looked at Shanti, and winked.

  Shanti held his eyes for several seconds measuring his message.

  Dr. Wise raised his glass, the rest followed.

  “To Professor Shanti Larsen, who has brought the biological sciences represented in this body of dedicated professionals to the threshold of a whole new world.”

  Dr. Wise drank down his bubbly. They downed their bubbly.

  As the applause washed over them, Dr. Wise plunked the report down in front of Mavra, “Please sign the report indicating you’ve received it.”

  D helped Mavra sign where he pointed in several places.