“Nonsense,” Jameison replied coolly. “And keep your voice down. You said it yourself—he died of heart failure. There’s nothing connecting him to us.”
“Not legally,” Thornton said.
“That’s right. And that’s what matters. If you keep your head, this thing will blow right over.”
“That’s not all that matters to me.” Thornton looked away, rubbed his forehead.
“Listen, Professor, you’re jumping to conclusions. You don’t know that my drug caused this kid’s death. The report said ‘unexplainable trauma,’ right? It didn’t say ‘unexplainable foreign substance.’ That means they didn’t find any traces of the drug in his system. Anything could have triggered this septal defect. It was just the boy’s time.”
“Jameison. He was only twenty-two years old.” Thornton looked away again.
Jameison did not reply at first, then calmly said, “What makes you think the drug killed him? Think it through. Haven’t you given it to four people?”
“Yes.”
“And by now, to some of them even twice?”
“Yes, two of them.”
“Did any of the others die of heart failure?”
“No.”
“Have any of the others shown any signs of difficulty or distress?”
Thornton thought a moment. He so wanted to give into Jameison’s persuasion, to salve his aching conscience. “No. They seem fine.”
“There you go. We didn’t kill him.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I am not a killer,” Jameison calmly replied. “And neither are you. I’ve tested this drug again and again, and I know it’s safe.” Jameison got up and walked to the door. “Come. I want to show you something.”
28
Thornton got up and followed Jamieson. “Where are we going?”
“Since you’re here, I want you to see the animals you’ve read about in my reports. You did read everything I gave you?”
“Several times,” Thornton said. They walked through the door and turned left down the hall. It looked like any other doctor’s office. “Shouldn’t there be sleeping people lying around in little rooms hooked up to monitors?”
“They’re in the adjacent building. This is our administration and research office.” They came to a door unlike any of the others: black steel, with a digital security lock beside it. “Here we are.” A sign in large red letters: No Unauthorized Admittance. Jameison ran a keycard through the lock, punched a few numbers, then opened the door when a buzzer sounded. It slammed behind them with a thud.
Several monkeys immediately began to hoot and howl. They were in a large windowless room, a typical laboratory with stainless steel worktables in the center. To the right was a desk and computer. Beside the desk were bookshelves filled with manuals and notebooks.
“These are my students,” Jameison said, pointing to the monkeys.
“Students?”
Jameison walked to a row of five cages, each with a different monkey inside. They showed genuine affection for Jameison as he neared, jumping up, reaching for him through the cage openings.
“Professor, these are pygmy chimps. They share ninety-nine percent of our DNA. Each of them has been given a dose of this drug every night for the last two months. Before them, I used it on dogs, and before that, mice. I haven’t had one incident in all that time. Not one animal has died or even gotten sick. Not one. Look at them. Do they seem disturbed or deranged? Do they look sick to you?” Jameison reached into the first cage with his fingers and scratched the chin of a grateful chimp.
“No. They look normal to me.”
“Whatever happened to your young student happened because it was just his time to go.”
Maybe Thornton had overreacted. He desperately hoped so. Jack did say he felt fine. So had the other two students the last time he asked. Maybe it was just a terrible coincidence. Thornton decided right then that it had to be.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Jameison asked cordially. He led them back to his office. Thornton nodded. When they reached it, Jameison piped into his intercom, “Kathy, is that coffee ready yet?”
“Yes, Doctor. I’ll bring it right in.”
Thornton sat in one of the chairs in front of Jameison’s desk and tried not to think. Moments later the attractive blonde wheeled a fancy cart through the door and handed fresh cups of coffee to both men.
“Thank you, Kathy.” Jameison looked at Thornton. The young girl walked out and closed the door. “I’m sorry you came all this way, Professor. There was really no need. You must let this thing go now. I mean that.”
He said this last sentence not as Jameison the comforting friend, but as Jameison the extortionist. And Thornton received it that way.
“It’s imperative we stay on schedule with these tests. Some very important plans are resting on your results.”
Thornton was so disoriented. How could he go from hating this man to cordial cooperation in a matter of moments? But it seemed he had no other choice. There wasn’t any proof connecting Jameison’s drug and Riesner’s death. And he knew Jameison was entirely serious about ruining his career if he didn’t cooperate. More than losing the promotion to Dean, he could lose his job, his tenure, and be unable to find a meaningful position in any decent university. He was too old to start over. “Tell me, Jameison,” he finally said, “who else knows about…what you’re doing, what we’re doing?”
“I’m not at liberty to say. But I’m sure a man with your background and in your position can appreciate the significance of this discovery.” Jameison seemed to be trying to charm Thornton now. “When you’re through with your testing, I will be putting a proposal together for the military that will be worth millions of dollars. Maybe tens of millions.”
“Well, can you at least tell me anything about how this drug works? What it does? You’ve never explained it.”
Jameison eyed Thornton warily. Again, he formed his hands into a steeple, a slight grin finally appearing. “I can tell you this much, Professor. The drug works with the information most recently stored in our short-term memory. The more that information stirs the imagination, the better.” Jameison rose to his feet and stared out the window through deep burgundy drapes. “I envision classrooms of young soldiers one day filling their minds with videos and reading materials on a certain battle or some strategic mission—the possibilities are endless—then my drug is administered. They then get up and go off to sleep in a specially monitored environment.”
Jameison looked away from the curtains and turned back toward Thornton. “And here’s the wonder of it…they will actually relive the entire event in the safety of their dreams. The drug temporarily links different components of the brain so that all the senses are alive and active in the dream state. I’m not talking about the weird, disjointed kind of dreams you and I and everyone else has.”
Jameison sat down again. “These soldiers will see, hear, feel, and touch everything going on in their dream. As if they were right there—flying the strike mission, fighting on the battlefield or house-to-house in the streets of Iraq. No mock city built out in the desert could begin to touch the realism we’re talking about here. No computerized simulation system—no matter how powerful—can compete with the human brain for image generation. And when these students awake, they will remember everything. They’ll know they have been dreaming, but the drug causes the brain to interpret these images as actual memories, overriding the brain’s tendency to delete the dreams once the subject is awake. Think how prepared for action soldiers like these would be. And all of this for pennies on the dollar compared to the billions now being spent on military training.”
Thornton sat in stunned amazement. He had never imagined a military application before. But now it made sense. That’s why Jameison had selected him. “How do you know all this? Your monkeys can’t tell you about their dreams. How do you know your drug can do all this?”
“Because I’ve tried it myself, s
everal times. And as you can see, I’ve lived to tell the tale. But obviously, my…clients will need more proof than my word on this.”
Thornton was confused. “So the military asked you to get someone to do the field tests this way, secretly using people who don’t even know what’s going on? That doesn’t make any sense.”
Jameison hesitated momentarily, the stern look returning to his face. “It is a long, drawn-out, and very complicated tale, Professor. I can’t go into it now. I’ve already told you enough. What you need to know is this: My drug does everything I’ve said it can do. And it is perfectly safe. Of that I’m sure.”
“But why hasn’t anyone talked to me about their dreams yet? If your drug was that effective, why hasn’t anyone said anything to me?”
“You haven’t been asking them any obvious questions, have you?” Jameison asked.
“No, you said just keep my ears open. Well, I have and nothing’s happening. No one has said a word.”
Jameison stood up. “Think about it, Professor. If you started having wild and crazy dreams, and there was no logical explanation, would you confide in your history professor of all people? Unless you’ve been to some personality classes since the days I attended Culpepper…well, let’s put it this way…I’m not surprised no one has come to you.”
Thornton winced at the insult, but Jameison was right. Why would anyone confide in him? “Excuse me, but do you have a restroom?” He felt like he was going to be sick.
29
After returning from the bathroom, Thornton noticed Jameison standing up. He seemed ready for their meeting to end. Thornton was, too. Jameison approached and began shepherding him toward the door. “I know we got off to a rocky start, Professor, but we’re both reasonable men. There’s no reason our arrangement must remain adversarial.” He escorted Thornton as far as the reception area but stayed in the shadows of the hallway. Nighttime had come, most of the lights in the office were off.
Thornton pushed the front door open. He stood in the doorway, trying to think of something clever to say.
Jameison motioned for him to come back. The waiting room was empty, but Jameison talked quietly, almost in a whisper. “One more thing, Professor. Do you have access to the health records of those you are testing, including the one who died?”
“I don’t, but I’d think three of them—the three students—are on the school’s computer somewhere. I don’t have any way of getting Jack Turner’s.”
“Could you get hold of the ones you can then?”
“I suppose so.” It could take a while for him to figure out just how.
“Then please do it as soon as you return to Culpepper. I’d like you to get them to me right away. It would help with my research.”
“I suppose I could do that.”
“When is your next test taking place?” Jameison asked.
“I have one scheduled for tomorrow night.” Thornton looked down at the floor mat, stalling as he waded through his conflicting emotions. He looked up and said, “Jameison, are you absolutely sure—”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Jameison interrupted. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, Professor. I’m sure we will have no more problems from here on out.”
“I hope not.” Thornton said. He walked into the night back to his car, loathing himself.
His flight home left in two hours. Before driving back toward the airport, he pulled into a 7-Eleven parking lot two blocks away to use his cell phone. He was calling one of his test students, Jared Markum, to invite him over for dinner tomorrow night.
Before he lost his nerve completely.
# # #
Jameison walked back into his office proud of the way he’d handled the situation. He had no conscience problems with anything he had said or done. Certainly, no remorse for the death of Ralph Riesner, who had already been relegated to the rank of mere data in his ongoing experiment.
Yet, he would have to explore Riesner’s death, to some extent. Even a small percentage of fatalities would not be good for business. Of course, no one would fault him for an unknown congenital defect. He had already considered his drug could place undue stress upon certain physical profiles. Perhaps Riesner was just too fragile a specimen. If so, knowing this in advance would be most helpful.
Besides, military personnel routinely place physical restrictions on a host of training assignments. Why should his program be an exception?
The drug was safe. The lad had a congenital heart defect, a miniature time bomb waiting to go off at any time. His heart simply chose that moment to explode. Everything was still on track.
Jameison reached down and pressed his intercom. “Kathy, you can go home now. I’ve got a few more things to take care of first.”
Then he called Nigel Avery in Culpepper. When Avery picked up, Jameison briefed him on his surprise visit with Thornton. If Avery had been a little more stable, Jameison would have chewed him out for not catching this in advance and giving him fair warning. But things seemed to be back under control. He instructed Avery to be extra vigilant with Thornton, and the remaining three test subjects.
# # #
Rachel was sitting on her sofa, scratching Tuffguy’s bumpy head. She had just hung up the phone after talking with her mother in Charlotte. The news was better than she could have imagined. That afternoon she had called to ask her help setting up an appointment for Jack with her sleep disorder doctor. Turned out, tomorrow’s last appointment cancelled and, as a favor to her mom, he’d be happy to see her daughter’s friend. He would leave it open until he had heard back from Rachel’s mom in the morning.
Rachel reached for the phone again to call Jack, then was startled when it rang. She was surprised to see who it was. “Hello?”
“Rachel, I hope I haven’t called you too late.”
“Not at all, Professor. It’s not even nine o’clock.”
“I’m glad. Listen, I’ve got some good news. At least I hope you’ll think it’s good.”
“What is it?”
“Well, I’m actually feeling much better. I think I can take my classes tomorrow.”
“That is good news, Professor.” In fact, it was perfect.
“Did you have any unusual challenges today?”
“No, not at all. But I’ll happily turn the reigns back over to you. Since you’ll be back, I think I’ll take my mom up on an offer she just made and go visit her tomorrow in Charlotte.”
“I really appreciate you covering for me.”
“No problem.”
After hanging up with him, she dialed Jack’s cell phone. Please pick up. He did.
“Hello?”
“Jack?”
“Rachel? Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine. Actually, I’ve got some great news, at least I think it is. I just got off the phone with my mom about her sleep doctor in Charlotte.”
“Really? His office is open at night?”
“No. I called her right after we talked this afternoon. I guess she has more clout than I realized. The doctor’s office called her back before they closed. This guy usually books out three to four weeks. But they had a cancellation tomorrow at 4pm if we can get you there. I’m supposed to call her back, so she can call them first thing in the morning. But we don’t have to do this if that’s too short a notice.”
There was a long pause. Rachel was just about to jump back in and repeat her offer to drop it.
“That’ll work.”
“You don’t sound too sure.”
“Like you said, it’s short notice. But I really would like to get someone else’s opinion on what’s happening to me. Did you mention to her the idea of us staying the night and driving back the next day?”
“Yep. As expected, she’s fine with that. We have four guest bedrooms.”
“But wait,” Jack said. “How can you go? Aren’t you subbing for Thornton?”
“He just called me. Apparently, he’s feeling better. He’s taking his classes back, so I’m free tomorrow. My
mom said if you said yes, they’d wait till we’re done at the doctor’s so we could have dinner together.”
“That’s nice of them.”
Still, he didn’t sound all that eager. “Jack?”
“Yes?”
“You don’t sound too happy. Am I being too pushy here? I am, aren’t I?”
“Really, that’s not it.”
“I can call her back and tell her it’s not going to work out.”
“No, don’t do that. Call her and tell her I’m grateful she went out of her way to call her doctor and for the dinner invitation, and for putting me up for the night.”
“Are you sure?
“Yes.”
“Do you mind if I ask what the hesitation is about?”
A brief pause. “To be honest…it’s your father.”
“My Dad?”
“Yeah, it’s your Dad. When I think of your father, I see myself back in Ramstein, Germany, standing at attention, saluting the base commander. Now I’m jumping from that to…he can’t wait to meet me, and I’m having dinner and staying overnight at his house?”
“Jack, you’re going to do fine. My father will love you.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because…I just know, that’s all.” Rachel was just about to say, Because I love you. That would have been a disaster. And she wasn’t sure this was love anyway. Just that her teenage crush had never gone away, and those feelings had only gotten stronger each day since they reconnected. “You’re not the same man who used to salute the big general in Germany. It’s time to take a new snapshot of yourself, Jack. You are a brilliant, accomplished historian, lecturer, and soon-to-be bestselling author. That’s what he’ll see you as, because that’s who you are.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad.”
Rachel laughed. “So, we’re good?”
“All right. We’re good.”
“How about I drive over to your place tomorrow by 12:30. I’ll leave my car at your place. Can we take your car? It’s so much nicer.”
“Sure. See you then,” Jack said.
Fatal 5 Page 127