The Devil's Vial

by Brumbaugh,Byron

  Oscar hit another couple of buttons and the screen changed to a table showing text indicating location and a number with a percent sign. “I wrote this program to keep track of where he goes and what percent of the time he spends there. It keeps track of any spot where he spends more than ten minutes. It also keeps track of travel time.” Oscar reached out and grabbed a piece of pizza. “Thanks for the pizza, man.”

  . . .

  The sun was down, Doug was back, and the five of them gathered together in the living room after dinner. Alex sat with Emily on an old upholstered couch; Richard was sitting in an easy chair next to them; Oscar was lying stretched out in a chair opposite. Doug was pacing the carpeted floor.

  “Alex, Richard, you guys come up with anything new and promising?”

  Alex looked at Richard. He let out a sigh. “Nothing.”

  Doug bit his lip and kept pacing. “Oscar, how are the bugs working?”

  “Like a charm. They haven’t been up long enough to give us anything meaningful yet, though. Last I looked, Todd is still in his office at Harvard.”

  Doug continued pacing, arms folded. “Emily, did you get any vibes from the post doc he might have some information we’d find useful?”

  “No. My educated hunch is he is as advertised, a post doctoral fellow trying to make a career in research and nothing else.”

  “How about the Simian Research Center?”

  “That’s harder to judge. I haven’t been able to really look around there. Security is tight and we won’t be able to move around unescorted without notice. But I have made a friend and I’ve been invited for a tour. I think I should be able to bring company.”

  Doug paced some more and then stopped. Looking over at Emily, he said, “Okay. Tomorrow, you and Alex go to the facility and look around as much as you can. Make up some kind of story about how Alex is a physician and is interested in the research going on. I’ll wait outside the grounds and monitor you from the van. Can you do it?”

  Emily looked over at Alex. “I don’t think it’ll be a problem at all.”

  “Sounds boring, compared to recent events,” said Alex.

  “Hell,” said Doug, “we don’t even know if Todd spends any significant amount of time there. And we have no idea where he goes when he’s there. This is simply a fact-finding mission.”

  “I can live with boring,” said Alex.

  “We will have to make you up again, though. We’ve been lucky so far. All we need is for some lucky slob to recognize you and the jig is up.”

  “Can I help?” asked Oscar.

  Doug turned in his direction. “Can you come up with some small video cameras we can easily conceal and record images of what they see?”

  “No sweat,” said Oscar.

  “Range might be a problem,” said Emily. “The buildings are set back from the main gate a good half-mile or so. Can you get a signal that far from inside a building?”

  Oscar thought for a moment. Rubbing his hand over his stubbled chin, he mumbled, “You’d have to carry a battery and a transmitter with a bit more power… That shouldn’t be an issue with the nanotubules. Yeah, we can do that.”

  “Does anyone have any other ideas about how we could proceed from here? Any other suspects we might be able to latch onto? Any places mentioned in Todd’s computers look promising?”

  Everyone sat silently for a few seconds.

  “Alex, any progress with that edge you’re working on?”

  “Not yet,” said Alex. “Give me a little more time.”

  “I don’t like this,” said Doug. “We’ve got all our eggs in one basket and no backup plan.” Doug took a few more paces and then stopped. “Oscar, you put together some kind of plan for getting into the government’s computers – I know the FBI is involved, we can try there, maybe NSA, CIA; I’m not sure where to look. From your experience, you probably have a better idea than I do. We’d be looking for anything having to do with a secret project involving deadly viruses.”

  Oscar rubbed his hands together and licked his lips. “Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about!”

  “But don’t take any action just yet,” warned Doug. “Just come up with a plan. And while you’re at it, see if you can’t come up with some way we can share what we know openly with the world. If we get caught, that might be all we have.” He looked around the room and added, “There's one other thing. We’d better change venue, while we still can. We’ve been here too long. Oscar, start packing up while you’re putting together your plan. When we get back, we’ll get everything together to move.”

  “You mean I’ll have to leave all my stuff?” said Oscar.

  “We can’t leave you here,” said Doug. “If those people out there find this place, you’re implicated. If you stay, you’re dead.”

  Oscar took a deep breath and raised his eyebrows. “Well, I do have equipment elsewhere. It’s just… This is my favorite safe-house.”

  “Figure out how to erase everything we’ve got and put the data somewhere else. We don’t want those guys to know what we’ve been doing.”

  “Gotcha. I’ll get right on it…” Oscar’s mind was already someplace else. Probably off in cyberspace.

  “Richard, why don’t you stay and sift through everything we’ve got and see if you can find anything that might point us in another direction to go.”

  “Oh, man, I was hoping to get out for a while. Just for a ride in the van. I’m really getting cabin fever.” Richard slouched down in his chair.

  “Is that really what you want to do?” asked Doug. “You’ll be increasing your risk of getting into some uncomfortable situations, you know.”

  Richard sighed heavily. “You’re right, of course. I’ll stay.”

  “Also, we need you here. We need to find options.”

  Alex cleared his throat. “Tempus fugit,” he said. “Time flies.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Alex and Emily stood beside the eighty’s vintage Dodge Oscar got for them. It was a blue/purple color that was neither attractive nor describable in any language Alex knew. He could not imagine what possessed someone to buy the thing when it was new. Now, with its parking lot rash and well-worn interior, the best label that could be put on it was functional. Most important for them, though, was its nondescript nature. Despite its lack of fuel economy, it would serve nicely.

  They waited in Piccadilly’s parking lot, just off the Marlborough exit of Interstate 495, for Emily’s Brazilian friend. The restaurant was currently closed and the lot empty, except for the two of them. Emily thought it best if they were standing outside the car so they could be seen when the Brazilian drove up.

  “So, how did you meet this guy?” asked Alex.

  “Armando? Oh, he’s sweet and harmless,” she answered.

  Why is it women have a tendency to answer some question other than the one you asked? “Okay, but how did you meet?”

  “Hmmm? Oh, on the first of my trips out here, I got as far as the gate to the primate center and pulled off the road. I timed it so it was shortly before eight AM, thinking I might catch someone going to work. This car pulled up to the gate and I went over to the driver and told him I was lost. One thing led to another and I was able to pump him for some information. He gave me his number and I’ve been occasionally in touch with him since, just in case he might be useful.”

  Alex opened his mouth to make a comment, but was saved from his lapse of better judgment by a red Japanese car pulling into the parking lot. Emily waved. The car pulled up next to them; the driver’s side window was open. In the seat behind the wheel sat a dark-haired muscular young man possessing a wide happy grin.

  “Emily! How are you? My! You look wonderful!” Armando had only a barely perceptible accent.

  Damn it, Emily did look good. Her thigh-hugging flares and second-skin polo shirt were… a distraction.

  “Armando! Good to see you!” Emily grabbed Alex by the elbow and pulled him over to the car. “Armando, this is the graduate stud
ent I told you about. His name is Alex Rheinhart and he’s interested in doing research on viral diseases in monkeys. Did I say that right, Alex?”

  “Yeah, pretty much. Nice to meet you, Armando.”

  Alex could not read Armando’s reaction as he reached out his hand in greeting. Not that it was likely Armando would identify him – Alex was heavily made up by Doug and even if Armando knew who he was, which was highly improbable, he never would be able to recognize him. Rather, there was this awkward moment when the two men eyed each other, each doing his best to take the measure of the other.

  “Please, get in,” said Armando.

  Emily got in front with Armando and Alex sat in the back. They moved out of the parking lot and went left on route 20 toward downtown Marlborough. They were soon moving down residential streets to the southeast. The area had the familiar old New England look to it - multistory wooden houses pushed in together so close, it was possible to touch both houses while standing between them. There were a lot of balconies, built in the days before radio, TV and air conditioning - the triad that destroyed neighborliness and, with the automobile, the need to interact with the family next door. Even though they were right there.

  Alex leaned forward. “What kind of research do they do at this place?”

  “We can do level one through level three biohazard research,” said Armando in a voice of authority. “They’re also doing some research in drug addiction, working with cocaine, alcohol, and heroin right now.”

  “Alex explained to me about the levels,” said Emily. “Will it be safe for us to visit?”

  “Well, we'll need to dress appropriately, but, yeah, it's safe,” said Armando. “Level one includes infectious diseases requiring minimal precautions – gloves and face-mask only. Level two is the mildly infectious stuff – a suit, mask, double gloves, bonnet, and so on to go in there. Level three bacteria and viruses can cause more virulent or fatal disease in humans, but have vaccinations or treatments - we'll have to wear special full suits with HEPA filtered hoods.”

  “What about level four?” asked Alex.

  “That, we don’t have. They’re the really nasty bugs that cause severe to fatal disease in humans and have no vaccines or treatments.”

  Alex and Emily looked at each other.

  “Bugs like those that cause hemorrhagic fevers, Ebola, hanta viruses, Lassa fever and other hemorrhagic diseases. You can’t work with that stuff without Hazmat suits and self-contained oxygen supplies.”

  “Have any of those diseases ever been worked with here?” asked Alex.

  “No way,” said Armando. “They have to be in specially designed facilities. To go in and out, you have to take multiple showers, go through a vacuum room, and an ultraviolet light room. They have to have autonomous detection systems, and a whole lot of other crap that’s a real pain in the ass. We don’t have any of that and I’m glad for it. I don’t ever want to deal with those really nasty bugs. Way too scary.” He shuddered, then glanced quickly at Emily as if to see if that last revelation made him seem less of a man in her eyes.

  Alex was disappointed. It would have been a simple connection… Oh, well. “So exactly what diseases are you dealing with right now?”

  “Level two right now is working on SIV – simian immunodeficiency virus. It’s the monkey version of the AIDS virus.” He briefly eyed Emily; apparently, he was trying to impress her with his knowledge base. “Level three is dealing with yellow fever.”

  “So how many monkeys are there at this place?” asked Emily.

  “I don’t know, hundreds. We have several buildings and one building is dedicated to breeding them. Not all are used by Harvard scientists. Other researchers can come in and use the monkeys, for a price.”

  They went around a corner and were suddenly thrown into forested land, seemingly untouched. And within just a few miles of downtown Marlborough. Emily turned around to look at Alex. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “How did all this escape development?” asked Alex.

  “Harvard has owned it from way back,” said Armando. “They also own some tracts of land further north and west that they use for forestry research.”

  They made a right turn and drove up to a barrier suspended across their path. Armando reached out his window and swiped a card through a slot, punched a few buttons on a keypad and the barrier lifted. They drove in. There were no signs anywhere advertising where they were.

  “Why so much security?” asked Alex.

  “Animal rights activists. I guess there were some problems in the past.”

  “We’re not going to get you in trouble by doing this, are we?” asked Emily.

  “No. I checked with my supervisor, we’re okay – as long as you’re not part of a protest group.” Armando smiled.

  The paved road moved up a gentle slope and curved off to the left. They were surrounded by evergreen trees, bushes, and grass. If Alex didn’t know there was a research facility here, he wouldn’t be able to guess; somebody’s mansion, maybe, but not a lab. It was well hidden.

  Going around another corner, they came to a two-story building, hidden in foliage, and pulled into the parking lot in front. Alex got out of the car and looked around. There were other buildings buried in the greenery, and other parking lots. Nowhere were there any signs.

  “This building is for the level one monkeys.” Armando pulled out a key and let them into a large foyer. In front of them, behind plate glass, was a tree and hanging from it were three marmosets. “The glass keeps them from throwing… uh… stuff at us,” he explained. On the right hand brick wall was a large poster showing pictures, along with the scientific and common names, of several species of monkeys. These included squirrel monkeys, marmosets and macaques. A door to the left led into the back and a stairway led up to second floor.

  Armando, Alex and Emily got dressed in paper from head to foot and went into the main part of the building. There were many rooms off several hallways. Each room had a door with a large glass window. The rooms were about ten feet by twenty feet and each was full of cages that ran from floor to ceiling. In each cage was a monkey; most were squirrel monkeys. Some of them were attached to long wires that led off to equipment somewhere out of sight. None of the monkeys seemed happy and some were making aggressive faces, baring their large canines, shaking the cage bars and screaming loudly - apparently trying to warn the visitors off.

  “They don’t look very happy, poor things,” said Emily.

  Armando shrugged. “We treat them well, and try to be humane, but I suppose a life locked up in a cage in a lab isn’t the happiest.” He waved his hand down the hallway. “This building is filled with these types of rooms and monkeys. Mostly squirrel monkeys, but some macaques and marmosets.”

  “There any labs in this building?” asked Alex.

  “No. Just monkeys,” said Armando. “Vet-Techs draw blood from the monkeys and do tests on it in another building. Except for some monkeys wired to monitors, all that’s here are just monkeys in cages.”

  “I was hoping to see some labs so I can get a better idea of the research they’re doing here.”

  “Sure, we can do that, but we have to go to another building.”

  “So who actually handles the monkeys?” asked Emily. “They’re kinda cute.”

  “Mostly people like me. There are some veterinarians who take care of the sick animals, but that’s about it.”

  “Are there any nice monkeys I could hold?” asked Emily.

  “I’m not supposed to let that happen. I’m sorry,” said Armando. “Too much of a liability.”

  “So, can we go look at the labs?” asked Alex.

  “Sure. What’re you looking for?”

  “I’m interested in doing research on simian viruses and I’m curious about the details of what people are doing here. If I see the labs they work in, maybe I can get a better idea. If I can get some names off office or lab doors, I can look them up on the web and get a better idea what they’re into.” Alex to
ok a breath. “Do you know of a guy named Dr. Griffin Todd? I heard he was the guy to talk to about viral research. He ever come out here?”

  “The name’s familiar.” Armando stuck his hands in his pockets and looked at the floor. “Yeah, I know who you mean. I see him out here maybe once or twice a year. Not often.”

  “That’s too bad. I'd like to meet him.” Alex looked at Emily and a flash of disappointment passed between them. “You know, Emily, I bet Doug would've liked this. He was into live animal research. I wonder what he's doing right now?”

  “I’m right here, getting good audio and even good video from your cameras,” Doug answered over the headset hidden in the glasses Alex wore. “Just keep panning the cameras back and forth slowly so we can go over the images later.”

  “Who’s Doug?” asked Armando.

  “Oh, he’s a friend we both know,” answered Emily. “The three of us were undergraduates together and met in classes in college. We’ve each gone our separate ways since, but we keep in touch.”

  For the next twenty minutes, Armando showed them what was in the level-two and three buildings. They saw offices and, after being re-garbed, the level-three monkeys in cages like before. In the back of the level three building was a small lab containing the equipment and paraphernalia you’d expect – test tubes, centrifuges, spectrometers, bottles and bottles of reagents, computers, printers - all on stone-topped tables. There were a few people busily working who ignored the visitors. Alex stopped some of them and asked questions about the research they were doing, and though interesting in their own right, the answers provided no further clue to the real problem he was struggling with.

  Alex was getting pretty discouraged. “Armando, have you ever heard of a group called ‘The Survivors’?”

  “Alex!” said Doug over the radio. “What the hell are you doing?”

  A horrified look flooded Emily’s face that morphed into consternation.

  “No,” said Armando. “What kind of music do they play? You ever listen to Brazilian music? Roberto Carlos, Joao Gilberto?” Armando looked hopefully at Emily.