by Arno Joubert
The fine dust puffed around his feet and drifted away. He checked his heart-rate monitor. Slightly over one fifty. Perfect. His father used to say that he wished he could have lived another twenty years, then he would have been able to repair his own dying body. Not that the man gave himself a chance. He was an alcoholic and had a sweet tooth. But himself? He was going to live forever. He simply needed to finalize his research in pluripotent cells and refine the process of growing organs in the lab. Ten years, twenty, max.
He had already grown a kidney and an earlobe. Now he was decoding the process of injecting stem cells directly into affected areas to rebuild the entire organ. Why do an organ transplant when you could simply treat the affected organ with an injection?
And it was working on the lab subjects. Five One Three’s immune system had developed antibodies against the HIV virus he had injected her with. Six Two Six took a while, but the leukemia was gone. It was a bit hit-and-miss, because Three Five Nine didn’t survive the breast cancer, so he didn’t have enough confidence to inject himself with anything yet, but the prognosis on the lab subjects looked promising.
He breathed deeply and wiped the sweat from his brow. The sun was rising over the desolate Karoo landscape. He fucking hated it here. The place was too warm in the day, and at night it dropped to below zero. The air was dry and smelled like dust, and the food was shit. South Africans wanted to burn everything on a fire, even his favorite dish, fish. What an unhealthy way to eat.
But the location was the best he could have hoped for. Their cover was that they were a fracking operation, exploring mining possibilities in the Karoo. He had a couple of ministers in his pocket, which didn’t come cheap, but it was all worth it. He could perform his tests without being bothered by the law and regulatory agencies.
South Africa didn’t have any legislation banning research on embryonic stem cells, so technically he wasn’t breaking any laws. The government knew about his research, but they were going to benefit from it as well. As AIDS proliferated and desecrated the country, he had promised them a cure. And he was working on a tight deadline. He needed to see results soon.
He jogged over the airstrip and onto the blacktop of the admin parking lot. Hannes Petzer’s Porsche was already parked in front of the lab. Good. Wattana sprinted the last three hundred meters and stopped in front of the automatic sliding door that led to the lab.
Andre`, the security officer, looked up and greeted him with a smile. He stood up and swiped a card over the access control scanner, and the double doors to the lab swung open then sucked closed behind him.
It was cold inside, regulated at eighteen degrees Celsius. Petzer looked up from a microscope when he heard Wattana come in, and he waved a greeting. “Dr. Wattana, I wasn’t expecting you this early.”
Wattana shook his hand. “I brought back Eight One Three. A certain General Laiveaux from Interpol delivered her to my doorstep at Happy Sunshine.”
Petzer’s eyebrows shot up. “Problems?”
“No, I paid him. He’s got our backs. Your memo said we had some security issues?”
Petzer nodded. “Yes, but I handled it.”
Wattana studied him for a while. “Good. And our competition?”
“No spies. We’ve been lucky. One of our competitors, GlaxoCell, is filing for bankruptcy. After we caught their man, they gave up. They know they’re too far behind.”
Wattana smiled. That was good news. Maybe they wouldn’t be bothered again. “OK, change the patrols to twice a day.”
Petzer nodded.
“Any results on the chorionic grafts?”
“Excellent results.” He waved Wattana over to the microscope. “The cells are fully pluripotent and able to morph into any cells we want.”
“Good, good. And the delivery mechanism?”
“A virus.”
“OK, simple. Case studies?”
“Three subjects infected with multiple sclerosis, a one hundred percent success ratio in curing the disease.”
“HIV?”
Petzer sighed. “The fucking thing keeps morphing so we can’t grow a culture to treat it. We’ll have to decode the DNA and maybe find a mechanism to halt the messenger RNA so that it doesn’t replicate.”
“But that could take years. Can’t you simply halt mitosis by radiating the mitochondria?”
“Tried that.” He turned around and leaned on the table. “We could do something else.”
“What?”
“I’ve managed to breed some antibodies that would show up positive if the subjects were tested.”
“So Five One Three wasn’t cured?”
Petzer shook his head.
“But it would look like they were cured?”
Petzer nodded. “Exactly.”
“Mortality ratio if they stopped taking the ARVs?”
Petzer chuckled and Wattana smiled as well. “One hundred percent after six months.”
“So how do we get them to continue taking the ARVs after they’re ‘cured’?”
“Well, I haven’t thought of that yet.”
“OK, leave that up to me, I’ll figure out something. Tell them it’s part of the study, placebos or something.”
“I know you will, Dr. Wattana, you always do.” Petzer remembered something. “Oh, Moolman and Dlamini are in your office.”
“This early?”
“Yes, they mentioned something about being paid.”
Mitsu studied herself in the full-length mirror. She looked good for a woman of forty. Her breasts were still perky. She turned around; she had no cellulite, and her bum was firm. Thak’s medicine was keeping her young, as he had said it would. She noticed the photo stuck to the edge of the mirror. She didn’t know who had taken it, probably someone at the base. Eben stood there hugging Alida’s shoulder, and they were both smiling like lunatics. Could anyone ever be that happy without pretending to be?
She pulled the photo from the mirror then tossed it on the bed. She yanked open a cupboard and moved her underwear to the side. She pushed the upper half of her body into the shelf as far as she could then rummaged around and found what she wanted. She hauled out several objects, dropping them all on the bed.
Mitsu picked up and unfolded a large, blue, handwoven cloth, then laid it on the bed. It was speckled with Alida’s blood and splotches of candle wax. She could still smell the smoke. She admired the intricately-embroidered golden raven for a moment. It had been a gift from her mom, a tablecloth, but now she used it to cover the altar during her ceremonies.
Next, she placed the silver dagger on the cloth. The handle was shaped like a question mark, and the pattern continued into the blade, forming a squiggly crucifix. She picked up the vial filled with Alida’s blood and placed it ceremoniously next to the knife.
She fetched a mortar and pestle and a cup of boiling water from the kitchen. She popped the vial into the water, measured five tablespoons of cannabis, poured it into the mortar, then ground it to a fine powder. The powder went into a gold chalice, followed by the blood. She could only get a drop or two out of the vial, so she filled it with warm water and shook it, then she emptied the bloody mixture into the chalice as well.
Finally, she filled it to the brim with vodka and stirred it with her finger.
She quaffed the mixture in a single gulp then lay back on her bed, waiting for it to take effect.
She studied the photo of Alida and Eben. Such a beautiful girl, exactly as she had been in her teens. But Alida turned out different than she had hoped. She was spending so much time with Eben, obviously trying to get away from Mitsu as much as she could. She had fine manners, and she was always so prim and proper. Mitsu tore the photo to shreds and tossed it on the floor. She felt a pang of jealousy.
Oh, Mitsu had tried to change her, bringing fine young men from town, telling them they were allowed to screw her daughter, she only wanted to watch. Obviously Alida refused, but then Mitsu found her leverage with the stupid girl. She threatened to kill Eben.
That had the poor child eating out of her hand. Mitsu giggled. Oh, Alida would do anything for her after that. She screwed whomever Mitsu ordered her to. Mitsu enjoyed watching them; sometimes she would touch herself as well.
Alida would fetch Mitsu her drugs, clean the house, and every time she refused, Mitsu would take out the gun and load it. “The first shot will be in his stomach. I won’t kill him immediately, I’ll make him suffer first.” And Alida knew she would, knew what she was capable of.
How many kids had she killed? She tried to remember. It must have been around twenty, one every six months for the past ten years.
They would all gather around the altar and say the prayer like she had taught them to:
“Dear Mother Earth, I hereby offer you my blood as a sacrifice to appease you. We know we are all sinners, and we know that you could extinguish our flame instantaneously if you so wished. We pray for your blessing in our lives, and we pray that you bless your disciple, Mother Mitsu. We thank you that we are tools in her hand, and we thank you for using our bodies to make you healthy and strong. Amen.”
Her head felt light, and she could feel the cold tendrils of anxiety lift. She touched herself and groaned.
Her grandfather used to play with her, then her father, and later her brother. Alida told her that it wasn’t right, but Mitsu said just because her dad didn’t do it, it didn’t make it wrong. Alida would snort defiantly, then Mitsu would cock the weapon. “I’ll blow him to bits.”
She stood up and gathered a fresh set of underwear in a bag, stuffing it in together with a tootbrush and toothpaste. She needed to get out of this hellhole.
Wattana buttoned his collar and pulled the silk tie around his neck.
“What did Moolman want?” Mitsu asked, tenderly patting her lip with a tissue. She was lying on the bed naked, purring like a contented cat.
“Money, what else? I told him to go screw himself,” Wattana said, pulling on his pants.
“You hurt me again,” Mitsu said, touching the swelling beneath her eye.
Wattana chuckled. “What, you didn’t like it?”
She shook her head. “No, I loved it.” She stood up and picked up her bra and panties. “Like always.”
“I need some somatic cells again,” Wattana said. He rummaged through his medical bag and produced a scalpel.
Mitsu nodded then stuck out an arm. Wattana made a short incision on her forearm, pulled some skin off with tweezers, then dabbed a piece of cotton wool over the wound. He popped the skin and cotton wool into a plastic bag, which he tossed into his medical bag. “Did that hurt?”
She shook her head. “Why don’t you just make me pregnant and use the embryo?” she asked.
He cupped her chin. “No, no. You need to stay perfect, exactly as you are now.”
She rubbed his arm. “Do you love me?”
He grabbed her bottom and pulled her closer to him. “Of course.” He kissed her deeply, his tongue dancing with hers.
She pushed him away then turned her back to him. “Then why don’t you take me away from this place? I’m so bored.”
He folded his arm around her tummy, pushing his crotch into her bottom. “Because you need to keep an eye out for me. See that everyone is behaving as they should.”
She brushed her hand through his hair. “Those two agents visited me, asking a lot of questions.”
Wattana felt the knot form in his belly.
“They wanted to know why Alida was using drugs. Apparently they found some in her satchel, and Theron told them that he had sold it to her.”
He turned her around, holding her at arm’s length. “What did you say?”
She shrugged. “I said I didn’t know why.” Her lips pouted like a naughty child. “Theron doesn’t want to give me any more. He never said no to Alida. Alida always got me my sweeties when I told her to.”
Wattana inhaled deeply. “The only reason she got them for you was because you threatened to kill Eben.” He turned around and studied himself in the mirror. “You manipulated her psychologically. She would do anything you asked her to.” He plucked at his shirtsleeve, straightening it.
Mitsu nodded. “I’m sick and tired of that old fart.”
Wattana chuckled then searched through his medical bag again. “You need the cover, you know that.” He took a vial from the bag and handed it to her. “Here, this is enough for a couple of days. Try to make it last this time.”
Mitsu grabbed it from him. “I’ll try, but I’m so bored.” She held the vial in the air, shaking it. “This helps met get through the days.” She cupped his crotch with her hand. “This and you, of course,” she said and breathed huskily into his ear.
He gently pulled her hand away. “I’m late,” he said and picked up his medical bag.
She pouted again. “They asked if Eben beat me.”
He turned to her, tracing a finger down her cheek. “I’ll be more gentle next time.”
She shook her head. “Oh no, I like it that way.”
“OK, I need to get back to the office.” He pecked her cheek. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
She cupped her breast. “I can’t wait.”
Alexa tapped her lower lip as she watched the red blip on her tablet. It had entered South African air space at 5:00 a.m. and had then landed at the PEP airstrip. But now the signal was weak, less than seven kilometers accuracy. Yumi had to be underground somewhere.
A question had been bothering her, so she asked Neil to accompany her back to Mueller’s. As they drove, he put his hand on her leg. She glanced at him and smiled. “I’ve been thinking about the case a lot, Neil.”
“We both have.”
“You know how the guards reacted when they saw us?”
“You mean by shooting without any warning?”
Alexa nodded, tapping her lower lip. “Yes. They were obviously protecting something that they deemed important.”
“Yes, they were protecting the pipelines from being vandalized.”
“That’s bullshit, Neil. They would never get enough water for fracking and supplying the surrounding towns from that dam. They would need a massive underground well, or lay pipes to the ocean.”
Neil nodded, not looking convinced. His phone rang. “It’s Latorre, hang on a sec.” He answered, listened intently, then hung up. He glanced at Alexa. “You’re not going to believe this.”
“What?”
“The forensics came in. Remember that photo of Alida posing with her classmate? The one Mitsu gave us.”
“What about it?”
”Latorre thought it strange that someone would still use a Polaroid camera these days, so he had the photo carbon-dated.”
Alexa nodded slowly. “Yes, that was strange, wasn’t it?”
“Apparently it had been taken in the late eighties. He then ran a facial recognition routine on it. The exact same photo was in a yearbook of the Okayama Secondary School in Japan.”
“Who was it?”
Neil chuckled. “It was Mitsu.”
Alexa tried to wrap her mind around this new information. Mitsu had been lying about a lot it seemed. But why?
“That’s not all. That tissue that you grabbed at Mitsu’s home yesterday? They did a DNA analysis on the fluid it contained.”
“The snot?”
Neil smiled and nodded.
“OK?” Alexa said apprehensively.
Neil glanced at her sidelong then frowned. “It’s identical to Alida’s. They’re exactly the same.”
Alexa frowned. “Alida is Mitsu?”
“Exactly.”
This was getting stranger by the moment. Mitsu was lying about her drug usage, and now her DNA was exactly the same as her daughter’s, which was impossible. Alexa opened the window and allowed the warm air to blast her hair back.
It was a sweltering day, mirages shimmering hazily on the road ahead. Neil slowed down and crunched to a stop on the bend in the road where the water pipe meandered up the side of the m
ountain toward Mueller’s Dam. Someone had recently mended the wall beside the road where their rental car had crashed into it.
Alexa sauntered across the road to the pipe and held her hand to it, then she walked back to where they had stopped. She called Neil over. “Feel, it’s warm in the sun; you can hardly touch it. If there was water in here, it would extract the solar energy from the pipe and heat the water, which would cool the pipe down.”
Neil put his hand on the pipe then removed it quickly. “I don’t understand.”
“OK, imagine a hose in your garden. It lies in the sun the entire day. When you touch it, it’s hot, right?”
“Yes.”
“That’s because the sun heats the water in the hose. But when you turn on the tap, the water runs through the hose and cools it down, taking away the warm water.”
“OK, I get it. Maybe the water in the pipe is running real slow.”
She tapped her lip. “I don’t think so. Plus it’s way too thin to supply a constant stream of water that they would need for an entire week to complete the fracking project.” She frowned. “Something isn’t right about this pipe.”
Neil scratched his chin. “Maybe they’re saving the water in a reservoir at the plant?”
Alexa shook her head. “They’re not. I looked.”
“So what do you think is in there?”
Alexa nudged the pipe with her toe. “Something much less conducive to heat than water.”
Neil shrugged. “I guess the only way to find out is to see where it goes.” He held on to the edge of the ledge then let go and dropped two meters down to the next ledge. Alexa retrieved her backpack from the trunk then followed Neil.
The pipe zigzagged downhill, and Alexa and Neil took shortcuts down the mountain, jumping from ledge to ledge where they could. They kept alert, but didn’t run into any security guards.
They followed the pipe for seven klicks. In the distance Alexa saw that it wound its route toward a small building on the horizon. The sun blasted them from above and the ground baked them through the soles of their shoes. When they finally reached the building, they saw that it was molded concrete, the same type used at the dam. It had a solid-looking, blue metal door with large, rusty hinges. A barbed-wire fence was wrapped around the building. It seemed brand new and shiny.