by R Arundel
“You guys already got him in custody?”
“Did you meet the man who called on the telephone?”
“No. Tom met with him. Tom would not tell me much, said it was really strange. The guy stayed hidden, talked in a funny voice. The debt would be forgiven if Tom did them a favor, transplanted a face. I begged him not to do it. Let me pay my price. I didn’t care, let them kill me. I had a bad feeling this was going to turn out wrong. Tom told me he would make it right. He told me to never speak about this again.”
“Thank you for your help.”
“Am I going to jail?”
He makes the final checks. He has calculated the trajectory of the bullet. He is fortunate there is no wind. He aims for the “apricot.” The medulla oblongata, part of the brainstem. The first shot will be all he needed. The second is insurance.
He concentrates on making his body still. He listens to his heartbeat and his breathing. He will fire each shot in between heartbeats. He closes his eyes. He reminds himself to pull smoothly back on the trigger. When he opens his eyes, he will fire the first shot.
Patricia says, “Tom was innocent. I thought they were just going to have him do the transplant and forgive my debt. I was going to stop gambling. I loved Tom. I know he loved me. I never intended to get him killed.”
Matthew says, “We need some more information on the man who talked to Tom.”
Tap, tap. The glass shatters with very little noise. Two small holes in the window pane. Matthew grabs Sarah and hits the ground.
The tall, thin man in the tartan cap relaxes. The shots were perfect. Patricia is dead. There is no need to kill the others. She hadn’t had enough time to tell them anything. Nothing that could identify him or his plan. Besides the plan is well underway. Killing two extra people would be foolish. It would draw too much heat. Even if they start to figure it all out, it is too late.
He methodically takes apart his rifle. He congratulates himself on his good judgment, his good shooting. He puts on his flat cap and quietly closes the door to the Anderson house. He had researched the whole street and is so fortunate that this family is away for an extended stay; the house was a perfect location. Maybe this is destiny. He’ll call the clean up crew to drop by later and make sure the place is back to normal before the Andersons come home.
Matthew really isn’t surprised. He knows he wasn’t followed, but whoever is behind this wants no loose ends. By coming back to Patricia, posing as federal agents, they sealed her fate. Patricia had some useful information. They didn’t get a chance to get it all, but she confirmed enough. Matthew is now a little closer to finding the killer. Maybe he should have come here as Matthew, a long-time friend paying his respects for a dead mentor. That may have spared Patricia’s life.
Sarah reaches out to Matthew. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re not responsible.”
“Really?”
“Patricia had a gambling habit. Whoever wanted that transplant knew that. She was set up. This person leaves no loose ends. She was going to meet this end whether we showed up or not. Just as Tom chose his fate as soon as he agreed to do the transplant.”
***
Jason has a smile on his face as he heads to Quentin’s office. He has him. The golden boy is now finished. Jason got on a flight to Palo Alto as soon as the news broke: Patricia is dead. Shot in the head. The detectives at the scene said they had Matthew’s prints at the scene, no weapon, but Matthew had been there. It happened late at night. There were no witnesses. In the morning someone noted the broken window. Unusual for this part of town and they called it in, thought it was a burglary. The local police found the body. The forensics crew also identified a second set of prints, as yet unidentified. Bullets were from a military rifle. Matthew had been to the house recently for Tom’s death. His prints at the scene were not unexpected. However, the circumstantial evidence is strong. Men have hung for a lot less. Jason smiles and thinks, how the mighty have fallen.
Jason hates Matthew, a primal hate. Matthew MacAulay had beaten him in all that mattered in life. Celerie still loves Matthew; it is obvious. Celerie would take Matthew back in a minute. Jason is the second choice. Matthew stands between them. On the wedding day, Matthew will be standing right in the middle of them at the front of the church. He will always be there, right between them. Jason will kill Matthew. He will, of course, tell Celerie that someone else has done it, but he will do it himself.
***
Jason has the forensic team work nonstop. A partial shoe print at the scene is identified as belonging to Matthew; it was made around the time of the murder. There is no doubt. Matthew MacAulay is finished. As he walks into Quentin’s office, he knows what the only option left is. Quentin will have no choice.
Quentin is already reviewing the documents when Jason walks into his office. “The ballistics report is conclusive.”
Jason says, “Military rifle. Standard issue to snipers.”
“His shoe print at the scene.”
Jason adds, “We have an eyewitness who states that a man and a woman visited in a police-type car that evening.”
“Matthew with Sarah Larsson.”
“The woman had black hair. The man matched Matthew’s height, but the witness couldn’t say much more.”
Quentin says, “She dyed her hair. The white hair would be too easy to identify.”
A long pause.
Quentin can’t make all the pieces fit together. “Why would an anesthetist join him? She’s only been in New York a few months. She’s definitely not involved in selling secrets.”
“I have a forensic psychiatrist on it; he will give us a report in a few hours. Matthew knows how to deceive women. I think he’s got some kind of mind control on Dr. Larsson.”
“I find it hard to believe.”
“Believe it.”
“Is there any doubt whatsoever he is the one?” says Quentin.
“None.” Jason barely holds back a smile.
Quentin nods. “Okay. Clean sweep. Him and anyone else helping him. Sarah Larsson, Liam Rasulov.”
“The mother?”
“Is she helping?”
“We don’t think so.”
“Then just keep an eye on her. I don’t think he’d be stupid enough to involve her, but who knows?”
Chapter Twenty
Ryan Smith recovers well from his physical wounds. The physiotherapy shows results. He walks well, with no pain. The only thing left is his face. He never takes the dressing off. It is a triangle in the middle of his face. A neat, clean white triangle. The rest of his face is normal. He is standing in front of the bathroom mirror when he hears his room door open. Ryan recognizes Dr. Spencer Lambert. He has been popping in for quick visits quite often. He never comes with Matthew.
“Hi, Ryan.”
“Hi, Dr. Lambert.”
“I have been reviewing your file. I will be taking over your case, effective immediately.”
This is not unexpected. Ryan has heard the rumors. Matthew is accused of some very serious things. He tries to ask around, but no one will say anything in the hospital. He knows Doc MacAulay is either in custody or on the run.
“Where’s Doc MacAulay?” says Ryan.
Dr. Lambert speaks in an authoritative voice. “Dr. Matthew MacAulay is no longer affiliated with this institution.”
“I’d like to speak with him, Dr. Lambert.”
“We have no means to communicate with him. I take it you read.”
The sarcasm is biting. Ryan thinks to himself, maybe I deserve it. Matthew is an accused killer on the run, and all the papers have the story. He killed his scrub nurse, probably in a love triangle gone bad. He is also a person of interest in a recent murder in Palo Alto.
“Fine. So what is the plan?”
“I have looked at Dr. MacAulay’s progress notes. Your physio is ahead of schedule. You were lucky to have such great physio. Your hard work has allowed you to recover quickly from these devastating wounds.”
“Thank you.”
“But we need to get you back home. I’m not sure your previous plan was well thought out.”
“What do you have in mind?” says Ryan.
Dr. Lambert pulls out something from his pocket. It is a nose and surrounding tissue, all made in plastic. “A prosthesis, just like this. Your previous surgeon did not discuss this with you. This is your best option.”
“A piece of plastic on my face?”
“It will get you out of here in no time. It’s cost effective.”
“Doc MacAulay discussed it. I would have no feeling and it would not be my own tissue.”
“That is true, but it is a good, simple solution. You are almost ready to leave us from your other wounds.”
“Dr. MacAulay wanted to do a partial face transplant. He said it was the best choice.”
“Well, the previous surgeon was wrong. His solution was the most complex solution to fix a simple problem. I looked at your scans and x-rays. The brain is perfect; you are just missing some tissue involving the midface.”
“Just missing some tissue? I can’t take my bandage off. I look like something out of a horror movie. My wife hasn’t hugged me in months, and I can’t go down to the cafeteria here without all the other people staring at me.”
“I’m sorry. I really, truly am. But look at the reality. Your bills keep climbing. You’ve almost finished the physio, and soon you will be walking normally. Your hands have fully recovered.”
“I want a partial face transplant.”
“There is no facial transplant program. The program has been suspended pending external review. There is no guarantee this program will ever be restarted.”
“It’s my best option. Doc MacAulay said.”
“The facial transplantation program was a very expensive frill. An opportunity for overgrown boys to play. It was experimental at best. The results they claimed were based on very few patients. Transplants were not done on a large enough group of patients to validate the results. Do you understand what experimental means?”
“Doc MacAulay showed me the results.”
The contempt rises in Dr. Lambert’s voice. “A patient. He showed you one patient. He didn’t show you all the ones that failed. The patients that died trying to look like they did before whatever injury they had. We don’t know how many failures he had for the one success; he was doing a lot of things none of us knew about. Dr. MacAulay’s entire research career is in question. You should know this.”
“Get out.”
Dr. Lambert is apologetic. “Look, I’m sorry it turned out the way it did. Dr. MacAulay was a competent surgeon. I agreed with the forehead flap when he presented it at rounds. It didn’t work. That happens.”
“Doc MacAulay almost got it to work. It was just too bad an injury.”
“ I’m sorry you were injured. Look, I know the work you guys do and I appreciate it. You get sent to a place you never heard of, to do a job that you don’t understand, for a reason you don’t believe in. The facts still remain, you need a simple, quick solution. I’m not trying to tell you it’s a perfect solution, it’s not. But sometimes good is the best we can do. Untried experimental surgery is not the way to go. Even if the facial transplant program were up and running, I would recommend the same thing.”
Ryan stares straight ahead.
“You don’t have to make up your mind today. I’m asking you to think about it. Don’t let your life slip away, hoping for some dream that some surgeon had. A pipe dream to further his own career with surgery that is untested and has little chance of success. My solution is practical. Let me help you go back to your wife and make a life for yourself. I know our country owes you. I get it—the work you did lets the rest of us sleep easy. Let me help.”
Dr. Lambert walks toward the door. Ryan stares silently, like he’s in a trance. He begins talking in a strange low voice. Dr. Lambert turns and looks at him in the doorway.
“The night was dark. The jungle always had a smell. Even though we were in a small village, at night it always smelled like the jungle. During the day village sights and sounds filled the air, but at night, the smell always returned. It was in your nostrils, in your hair, you just couldn’t get it out. There were three of us on patrol. Frank, Austin, and me. Our job was simple: go around the village perimeter. Simple reconnaissance. There was intel, an upcoming attack on our forward position. They had to have guns, bombs. They were bringing them in at night. We were in the middle of our patrol when Austin saw it. Three in the morning, I remember looking at my watch as Austin charged in. I followed. Frank circled left. Before we reached the truck, they opened fire. Grenade went right through Austin’s chest. Hit him right here. Hole bigger than a football.”
Ryan continues, “I felt a burning, like my nose was on fire, then it felt blocked. Like I had the worst cold ever. Blood poured out of my face, blood in my eyes. I fell to the ground—my leg was hit. The bullets rained down. My left hand stopped working. My weapon fell to the ground. I had no chance. Out of nowhere Frank circles back. I’m lying behind a wall, trying to return fire as they close in. I can’t walk. I can barely see. Frank was untouched. He could have walked out of there. He picked me up and carried me. He should have left and saved his own life. He fires his weapon and pushes them back. Armored truck rescues us. The next day they go back and get Austin’s body. Getting out Frank got hit. He took it in the shoulder. He didn’t need to save me. He was not hit in the initial attack. Two days later Frank was dead. Had he just gotten out, he would be alive. Frank took me out of there. He saved my life.
Ryan begins to sob uncontrollably. Dr. Lambert bows his head.
Ryan then returns to the present. “Dr. Lambert, I’ve been through too much to settle.”
Dr. Lambert quietly leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.
Chapter Twenty-One
Edith has been a team player all her life. She believes in America. She loves her country. She finds it very strange to be making this call. Kofi and Edith go way back. But this isn’t for friendship; this is for America.
Edith asks, “ What do you know about The Binary Sequence.”
Kofi says, “What do I need to know?”
“The Binary Sequence refers to a file. It was created for the president and has only been seen by a select few. It is a detailed strategy outlining the integration of new warfare techniques for the next century. It represents a paradigm shift in our thinking of warfare and military weapons.”
Kofi is in his Palo Alto company office, using a disposable cell phone. He takes his feet off the coffee table and leans forward.
Edith continues, “The facial transplant program is one leg of the program. The other, which you weren’t aware of, is bioweapons. The Binary Sequence outlines in detail how these two new technologies can be integrated for military purposes. The technologies are synergistic and more than the sum of their parts. It is a detailed plan. It outlines algorithms and scenarios as well as how to integrate these two stealth technologies for warfare.”
“So The Binary Sequence plans how to use face-transplanted spies with bioweapons in military applications?”
“The power of these two technologies together is far greater than any nuclear program. The potential to infiltrate our enemies is vast. And our friends. It outlines, by name, who could be transplanted to gather sensitive information from a foreign or friendly government.”
Kofi asks, “And the bioweapons?”
“How to deter or, when the technology allows more precise control, how to eliminate specific threats.”
“This is why all the funding ramped up. Is this why Tom started to get nervous?”
“I don’t know if he found anything out.”
“Bioweapons coupled with double agents?”
Edith says, “The double would only need a few hours. Transplant the face of someone who has access to important information.”
“You would have to kill the person to take his face.”
“Not n
ecessarily, you could capture them, sedate them, and do the transplant. After you had the information, then reverse the transplant and put their face back on.”
Kofi thinks through the possibilities. “This is huge. We have drugs that can erase the memory for a few days, so the person wouldn’t even know what happened.”
Edith says, “The document outlines in detail how to use bioweapons to eliminate key personnel in other governments, with no trace to us. It presents detailed scenarios for the day when the bioweapon technology is perfected so that it can be targeted to specific individuals. The first part of the report details how these new technologies are overtaking and will pass conventional weaponry. Drones, tanks, guns will be replaced by these new technologies. The second part provides a detailed analysis of why these new technologies, specifically facial transplantation and biological agents, are the new weapons of choice. In the second half, the analysts have prepared a detailed document with step-by-step instructions for utilizing the new weapons.”
Edith turns off the cell phone and throws it into the river. It’s a long hike back to her car.
***
The files Quentin is handling are very intriguing. His weekly presidential briefing in the Oval Office is not at all routine. He is growing to really like his job. President Middleton asks, “Matthew is confirmed as the killer?”
“He’s our guy.”
There are a few unanswered questions and it is not really confirmed, but the president doesn’t need to know these minor inconveniences. He has to lead from a position of certainty.
“What’s his end game?”
“Best we can make it, he was selling classified information on our most sensitive technology.”
There was no solid evidence of this, but no need to bother the president with those details.
“The facial transplant program.”
“Exactly.”
“To whom?”
“We’re trying to work that out.”