by Brad Murray
“Tell us how yer counteractin’ the viruses,” said the Sister, her spit vulgarly flying through her teeth and landing on his nose.
Minkowski eyeballed the picture of Dr. Brumeux, as if begging for his forgiveness.
“Shoot ‘er, Sis!”
“No stop! Please!” said Minkowski, tears welling. He was defeated. One eye was swollen shut, his nose bloodied and broken, his fingers and toes smashed by hammers. He had endured five hours of physical and emotional torture that few could comprehend – and he hadn’t offered them a word. But they were going to kill Tatiana, and it was too much to bear. He wanted it to end. And, more than anything, he wanted Tatiana to live. He wanted it more than the he cared about the vow of secrecy he’d made to Benoit. He realized that what he would say next could instantly obliterate a lifetime of his work. His work for the Order had been the one thing in his life that had truly fulfilled him; but it was all worth sacrificing if it would save Tatiana.
“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” said Minkowski miserably.
“For fuck’s sake, its ‘bout time,” said one.
“Go on then,” said the other. “The anti-viruses. Spit it out!”
“We possess a panacea,” whispered Minkowski. He watched Tatiana carefully while he spoke.
“A what?” said both Sisters simultaneously.
“Panacea. A cure-all in the form of a human being. In layman’s terms, his blood not only resists but counteracts every virus known to man.”
The Sisters looked each other and smirked. “Ye take us fer fuckin’ plonkers? Ye better start tellin’ the truth or Blondie ‘ere gets a bullet,” said one, pointing the gun at Tatiana.
“Aye, and then we’ll hang ye by yer ringpiece!” said the other.
“I’m telling the truth! I swear! We discovered him years ago and we’ve been using his blood ever since.”
“Who is this fella?” said one.
“And where is this pana – pannus -“ said the other.
“Panacea,” Minkowski corrected dejectedly. “He lives a few hours from here. And who he is isn’t important – he doesn’t even know we’ve been using his blood.”
The closest of the Sisters backhanded Minkowski across the face. “We decide what’s important, ye prack! Keep talkin’, and don’t skip over no details.”
“His name is James Porter,” said Minkowski exhaustedly. “Lives outside of Springfield, Missouri. His family physician works for us. Every time he goes in for a checkup, his blood fills our syringes and is stored in our test tubes. We treasure every drop. We use it to counteract sickness, to stem the tide of pandemics. We use it for the greater good.”
“But ye say he doesn’t know ‘bout this? Why ‘aven’t ye told ‘im?” said one.
“Aye, if what yer doin’ is fer the ‘greater good,’ then why ‘aven’t ye made ‘im awares? Surely he would love to hear ‘bout what a bigshot he is.”
Minkowski sighed. “There were some misunderstandings that occurred years ago, I don’t know the details. But Brumeux feared the Porter family would run. We couldn’t take the risk of losing them, so we have operated covertly all this time.”
“And I ‘spose this Porter fella is under watch at all times?” said one.
“Of course,” said Minkowski. “He is under our constant surveillance. We have people in close proximity. You wouldn’t be able to get to him, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I guess you’ll ‘ave to figure out a way to get ‘im out in the open then,” said one, untying Minkowski’s bound hands.
“Aye, you’ll phone ‘im later and get ‘im away from yer protection,” said the other. “But fer now, we’re leaving – before more of yer friends turn up.”
“Phone him?” said Minkowski, “I can’t…we’ve never even spoken to each other!”
“You’ll get ‘im to come to St. Louis. Alone. I’ll write down the address fer ye when its time.”
“What? He doesn’t know me! Why would he listen to me?”
“You’ll think of somethin’, if’n ye know what’s good fer yeh and yer little friend,” said one.
“Put that big brain of yers to work,” said the other. “Yer a fuckin’ doctor for Chrise’sakes! In the meantime, yer gonna help us carry Goldilocks up the stairs and out to yer shitebox auto in the garage.”
“Aye, and if ye try anything stupid, we’ll cut yer balls off and watch ye bleed out.”
16
Today - May 29, 2011
Jimmy never relinquished his grip of the arm of his chair during the entire thirty minute helicopter flight. But it wasn’t just the fact he was riding in a helicopter for the first time that unnerved him. It was the not knowing where he was going, who these people were and, most of all, what they intended to do with him.
The group sat in relative silence as the chopper soared over the green canopy of the Ozarks. Stern and his slightly smaller carbon copy sat on each side of La’Roi, arms crossed. Each time Jimmy glanced their way, his eyes met theirs. Brumeux stole his share of furtive glances as well. Jimmy was the center of attention in the suffocating confines of the helicopter, and he didn’t like it one bit.
At takeoff, La’Roi could barely hold the weight of his own head. But by the time they landed later he was rejuvenated, as if the epileptic episode from the interstate had never occurred. Oddly, the bruising and swelling of his eye had virtually disappeared. He sat up attentively in his chair nervously fidgeting, glancing intermittently between Jimmy and Brumeux.
The chopper descended over a gleaming glass tower that rose high above a complex of a half dozen two and three story glass buildings. The colossal complex was surrounded on all sides by a thick growth of trees, and Jimmy noticed it was accessed by a lone road that snaked its way through the heavy woods. A runway stretched the length of a vast clearing that was connected to a large airplane hangar. Sitting outside the hangar in a perfectly uniform row were three black business jets; the sun glinting brightly off their windshields.
The chopper aligned with a helipad on the roof of the glimmering black tower. The pilot expertly lowered the craft dead center onto the pad. Stern and his security guard replica flicked off their seat belts, opened the door, and climbed out. Brumeux followed the men and climbed out as well, turning to Jimmy while smiling. He held his fedora in place under the whirring blades, and beckoned for Jimmy to follow. Jimmy looked at La’Roi searchingly, as if looking for advice. La’Roi shrugged his shoulders and leaned forward, exiting the chopper.
The pair followed Brumeux to the edge of the roof as the helicopter’s engine quieted. Looking out over the complex, they were nearly blinded by a vast sea of glinting car windshields that stretched across a mammoth parking lot. Perfectly manicured flower beds lined each office building that were tended by a crew of landscapers; busily mowing, raking, planting. A gated entrance to the compound, ostensibly the only entrance, was manned by security personnel who wore Stern’s same black uniform. As Jimmy surveyed the campus, he spotted dozens of security personnel. They dotted the landscape, collecting in dark thickets at the entrances to each building, and scurried like tiny black ants around the forested perimeter.
Mounted at the top center of each building was a logo; a different logo for each. On the closest building, the words “InVivo” were displayed in a brilliant block-lettered red. The emblem on the next building announced in orange cursive the location for “Bioprint, Inc.” Behind that, a stately red and white insignia elegantly proclaimed “OrganGen, Ltd.”
“Magnificent, isn’t it?” said Brumeux. He held out his arms proudly, as if looking down upon his kingdom. “Welcome to our headquarters, James.”
“Headquarters for what?” asked Jimmy.
“This complex is the central location for over a dozen global corporations – all privately held of course. This location is the world headquarters for our cause.”
“Your cause?”
“Yes, James. We are a group of people dedicated to preserving life. Huma
n life. More on this later James, but just know that we are a movement energized by an idea. An idea centered around improving the human condition, to unlocking the untapped portion of our brains and transcending our current understanding of what it means to be human. And this is the nerve center of the movement. ”
Jimmy and La’Roi glanced at each other with the same puzzled expression.
“We picked this location because of you,” said Brumeux. He lifted his sunglasses from his face, exposing the blind eye. “We’re not far from your home, James. Not even half an hour by automobile.”
Brumeux turned and began walking towards a door on the far side of the roof. “Follow me, I’ll explain along the way.”
Jimmy and La’Roi trailed him, shouldering past Stern, who was talking in hushed tones into a cell phone. The group exited the sweltering heat, entered through a rooftop doorway, and were met by the refreshing coolness of air conditioning. They descended a flight of stairs, where Brumeux anxiously led them to an entryway to the top floor of the tower. Brumeux stopped at the door and turned to face La’Roi.
“Mr. Dawkins, I’m afraid this is where we must part company,” said Brumeux. “Stern, have Mr. Dawkins escorted to the medical bay for observation. James, you’ll be coming with me.”
Jimmy and La’Roi locked eyes. Jimmy didn’t want to go it alone, and he hoped La’Roi felt the same. La’Roi turned back to face Brumeux.
“Thanks for your concern,” said La’Roi, “but I’ve never felt better in my life. I’d like to stick with Jimmy if you don’t mind.”
“I must speak with James privately,” Brumeux insisted. “Our conversation is of little concern to you…”
“I’d like him to stay,” interrupted Jimmy.
Brumeux huffed, looked disapprovingly at Jimmy and then at La’Roi.
“So be it,” said Brumuex, forcing a smile. “This is the 16th floor, and my home. Please, after you.”
He held the door open wide and motioned them forward, beckoning them like an excited child. They entered a long corridor of black tiled marble and dark, rich hardwood walls. Soft lighting and whispery musical tones created a light and cheerful ambiance. Closed office doors lined the hallway, the office presumably shut down for the holiday weekend. Their occupant’s names were etched importantly in a bold, golden font. Jimmy casually eyed the names on each door as he passed - Davis. Holden. Madison. Minkowski.
Minkowski. Jimmy stopped and eyed the name plate.
“Dr. Dmitri Minkowski,” said Jimmy. “He works for you?”
“Of course,” replied Brumeux, turning to reply. “Dr. Minkowski is one of our most outstanding employees. His contributions to the Order have been immeasurable. In fact, Dr. Minkowski is the individual who found you.”
“Found me?”
“Yes! Without Dr. Minkowski’s vigilance, I shudder to think of what might be today. He discovered you at birth. Let’s talk while we walk.”
Brumeux placed his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder, guiding him forward through the corridor.
“I remember that night in Kansas City as if it were yesterday,” said Brumeux. “Our people were distributed throughout most of the major hospitals in North America at the time. It was Dr. Minkowski’s great fortune that your parents happened into his hospital. His assignment, which was the same assignment given to hundreds of others like him, was to test the blood of all newborns, looking for certain special traits. And when he tested the blood of one very special boy, well – needless to say we were all very excited to have discovered you. Yes, those were quite exciting times for our organization indeed. So much has happened since that fateful day James. And all because of you.”
“Wait a minute,” said La’Roi. “You mean to tell me y’all got people workin’ for you in hospitals near and far lookin’ for this guy?”
“Well, not at present, Mr. Dawkins,” said Brumeux, smiling. “We’ve already found him. The search has long been over. But yes, once upon a time, that was most definitely the case.”
“Well hell Jimmy,” said La’Roi, astonished. “I knew there was somethin’ different about you the minute I laid eyes on you. But I had no idea you were the anointed one! Shit, I feel like I’m standin’ next to Elvis or somethin’!” La’Roi grinned and winked.
A perplexed expression filled Jimmy’s face. “Minkowski called me at home last night,” said Jimmy. “Said he had important information about my father and that I had to come to St. Louis today to meet him in person. After the accident he called and tried to warn me. Said I was in danger.”
Jimmy clenched his jaw and offered a sharp glare to Brumeux. “I assumed he wasn’t on your side. I assumed he was trying to warn me about you.”
“As I mentioned earlier,” said Brumeux, a hint of apprehension on his face, “Dr. Minkowski has been compromised. He didn’t appear at work yesterday, which is quite peculiar. In fact, Dr. Minkowski hasn’t been known to miss a day of work in his entire life. Needless to say, alarm bells went off immediately. And even now we have not been able to locate him.”
Brumeux exhaled and looked at the floor. “I am quite fearful for his safety, James. When you mentioned he had contacted you, well…my greatest fears were confirmed. ”
“Maybe he decided he no longer believed in your cause –“ started Jimmy.
“Dr. Minkowski is as dedicated to the cause as anyone in the Order!” growled Brumeux. “He has sacrificed everything for his work – given up any semblance of a normal life. And all for you!”
Jimmy swallowed, taken aback.
“I am certain there is no other explanation,” said Brumeux, his tone calming. “The Alicante have Minkowski in their possession, which means you – all of us – are in great jeopardy. We must assume Dr. Minkowski is under tremendous duress; likely tortured. And if he tells them what he knows about you, then everything we’ve done – all we stand for – is at risk.”
“The Alicante?” asked La’Roi.
“Yes,” replied Brumeux. “The Alicante.”
Brumeux stopped his brisk walk down the hallway. He turned to Jimmy and La’Roi, his solemn expression conveyed the seriousness of what he was about to say.
“They are the kings of this Earth. The Alicante are comprised of rulers whose wealth and power are unrivaled. They are world leaders, high ranking governmental officials, and billionaire entrepreneurs. They are, as you might imagine, enormously powerful and funding for their initiatives is virtually limitless.”
“What do they want?”
“What they want, Mr. Dawkins,” said Brumeux, “is to control you. And that’s in the best case scenario. At worst, they want to exterminate you – eradicate you as a pestilence. They wish to establish a world of conformance - conformance to the rules as they see fit. The Alicante are determined to control humanity in their own design. And their design is to control everything – global money supply, military, government, natural resources, education. You, Mr. Dawkins, are a consumer of precious and finite resources, and therefore you represent a threat. A threat who must either be controlled or eradicated.”
“A threat? I’ve never thought of myself as a threat to anyone,” said La’Roi.
“Naturally,” said Brumeux. “But to the Alicante, or at least to one particular segment of the Alicante, you are simply one of a few billion parasitic menaces who inhabit this globe. Human life, to them, is not precious; it is quite the opposite. They view humanity as a leech, rapidly sucking the lifeblood out of this planet. And they wish to implement a course correction – an adjustment to the destructive impact humanity is having upon itself.”
“A course correction?” asked Jimmy.
“Our intelligence indicates there are those within the Alicante who wish to eliminate as much as fifty percent of the global population. The fifty percent who remain, if their plans are ultimately implemented, will find themselves under an entirely reformed ruling structure. As you can imagine, with so much death over such a short period of time, the world will be a chaotic place. Governme
nts will fall, disorder will reign. People will thirst for order; starve for stability. And the Alicante will be there as the new world’s wondrous savior, providing the resources they control in exchange for subservience. The world will return to what they believe is its natural setting – to almighty ruler and serf; to master and slave.”
La’Roi shook his head. “Sounds like some X-files shit to me. I don’t buy it.”
“You study your history books Mr. Dawkins? It is a struggle as old as time really,” said Brumeux. “The powerful few endeavoring to control the masses. The difference is that, in the past, the powerful weren’t so secretive about their initiatives. Their intentions were open, clear, in your face. Wars were waged, blood was spilled. Nowadays, efforts are conducted covertly. And, if I do say so myself, if not for organizations such as ours, I am afraid the Alicante may have succeeded by now.”
“So what does this have to do with me?” said Jimmy. “Why would I be a threat to them?”
Brumeux smiled warmly. “Allow me to explain in the comfort of my office. Please, follow me.”
Brumeux led them down the remainder of the seemingly endless, stunning marble corridor to a set of magnificent polished steel doors. As if on command, the doors slid open as the group approached, revealing a cavernous, brightly sunlit room. A wall of windows that stretched from floor to ceiling on the far side of the room offered a spectacular view of the green brilliance of the Ozarks.
Despite its size, the room had the feel of a quaint den or study. There were rows and rows of antique books filling a dozen bookshelves lining the perimeter of the room. The distinct smell of their old, tattered pages lingered in the air. A plush brown leather sofa sat warmly in a corner across from a fireplace, begging for someone to lie on its cushions while engrossed in a good story. The hardwood floors were sprinkled with spectacularly colored carpets. A massive, intricately carved antique mahogany desk sat in the center of the room, its top covered in black leather, trimmed on its perimeter in gold. An assortment of pictures and paintings decorated one wall - faded faces of important looking men and women who smirked back knowingly. The room appeared to accomplish several functions; office, library, study. But a touch of personality pervaded the space – private elements of Benoit Brumeux whispered intimate details about who the man was. This was much more than Brumeux’s office - it was his sanctum.