by Bruce Buff
Looking at the man who had arrived with him, Sergei said, “And that is Willy.” Willy was setting up a camera and microphone on a tripod, both aimed at Sam.
Sergei continued, “We know all about your involvement with Stephen Bishop and your own research. You will do your country, and yourself, an important service by being as forthcoming as possible. Do I make myself clear?”
Sam shuddered. He had never played sports as a kid. Instead, he had read lots of books to escape teasing from the athletic boys, and found his calling in science; he had always intended to use his mind, not muscles. He knew more than he could handle was coming his way, and it petrified him. In a shaky voice, he replied, “Who are you? What organization do you represent?”
“Dr. Abrams, do not try my patience. You need to recognize the seriousness of the situation. Dr. Bishop violated the trust placed in him by the government and by others, even you. He’s placed this country at grave risk by his unauthorized research, the biological weapons his work was leading to, and by his association with Viktor Weisman, whose work has now made the US a target of every regime in the world. Do you understand?” Sergei said in a low voice that rumbled with violence.
Sam nodded.
“Good. That’s wise. Now, answer our questions with complete honesty. Then we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement, and you will be allowed to leave. Is that clear?”
Sam nodded again. He thought the best approach would be to mix in bits of truth, pretend to be uninformed in others, and mislead in the remainder. After all, what could they really know? And therefore, how could they tell if he was being truthful? And what he knew was too important to disclose. Stephen had been emphatic about the danger of sharing information, had probably died trying to protect it, and Sam understood the implications of what he knew too well to give it up now.
“Let’s start from the beginning. What was the nature of your relationship with Stephen Bishop?”
“I knew him by reputation when he was at MIT. When he started at HBC, Viktor Weisman, who was in my synagogue, referred me to him. Stephen hired me, and we worked together on genome decoding for about nine months. Things didn’t work out. The research went in directions different than I had signed up for, we had a disagreement, and so I left. We spoke once in a while after that, but that was it.”
While Sam was being questioned, Elena and Willy searched the room.
After a long pause, during which he glared intently at Sam, Sergei said, “All right, then, tell me about Dr. Weisman’s work. You are of course familiar with what took place at his MIT lab.”
“I didn’t know him well. His fusion research was more than a job or interest for Viktor; it was his life. He treated it like a vocation and believed that it could change the world. I don’t know anything about what he was doing at the time of the explosion,” Sam answered. That was absolutely true.
“What was Dr. Bishop’s involvement with Weisman’s work?”
“Absolutely none, of course. Why would you think they were related?” Sam answered.
“You are not complying with the terms I offered. There are penalties for that.”
“I swear I’m telling you the truth,” Sam pleaded.
Sergei, after listening to his earpiece, continued, “My superior, who is more temperate and forgiving than I am, thinks I should give you another chance. Let’s try a different topic. How do you know Dan Lawson and the woman traveling with him?”
“I just met him. Stephen had arranged that. Did Lawson tell you I was here?”
Sergei laughed. “We’d lost him a day ago. Thank you for leading us back to him. Perhaps we’ll talk with him next.”
“Then how do you find me?”
“We’ve been keeping an eye on all of Bishop’s relationships. You made contact with one here. That was all we needed. I tell you this so you know the power of our organization. Now, tell us about Stephen Bishop’s research! We know it had strayed into dangerous territory, and that he had breakthroughs that can both revolutionize and devastate the world. He took things that weren’t his and withheld what he owed others. This is your chance to redeem yourself for your part in this. We know you went into hiding for a reason. You want to be on the right side of this—and us, I can assure you,” Sergei said, his face now inches from Sam’s, his heated breath washing over Sam’s face.
Sergei stood up and his shadow fell over Sam and blocked the light. “Tell me again about your work with Dr. Bishop. Do not leave anything out.”
“I was hired by Stephen at HBC to analyze gene sequences to identify patterns. I found blocks of genetic code that seemed to function like subroutines in a computer program. Stephen surmised that if we could discover their functions, we could reassemble them to perform any task that we wanted. Our efforts failed. After his daughter got sick, he wanted to redirect his research toward stem cells. I didn’t want to do that, so I left,” Sam said, continuing to mislead.
“And you have had no contact with him since then?”
“Just an occasional hello, how are you doing type of thing,” Sam said in a shaky voice.
“Then why did you just meet with his oldest friend, Dan Lawson, whom Dr. Bishop had recently sought out for assistance?”
Sam answered, “Stephen’s daughter is sick again, and Lawson is searching for a treatment that he believes Stephen had found. It doesn’t exist, and I told him that.”
“And yet you decide to come to this motel, in the very room where Lawson and Ava Bishop’s doctor are staying, to continue a conversation with someone you don’t know about a man you say you weren’t much in contact with, who died under mysterious circumstances, and about research you say you wanted nothing to do with.”
Sam didn’t answer. He started to move his mouth, then stopped.
Sergei stared at him. Sam tried to hold Sergei’s gaze, to look like he had nothing to hide, but failed. Instead, Sam’s eyes flicked nervously about the room. He felt sweat form on his brow and coalesce into drops as it worked its way down his face. The lack of reaction from Sergei began to give Sam hope. Maybe they were satisfied with his answers. Whoever they were, even if they were with the government, they were people who carried out their tasks with extreme seriousness. He just wanted to get out of there.
“Perhaps we’ll wait for them to arrive and ask them? What do you think they’ll say?” Sergei asked.
“I have no idea. Before today, I had never met them,” Sam said, hoping this statement would ring as true as it was. “I don’t think they would find your presence welcoming. In fact, you probably wouldn’t get a lot of cooperation from them once they see how you are treating me,” Sam added in an attempt to assert himself.
“Unfortunately for you, I think you are correct,” Sergei said as he slammed his open hand across Sam’s face, knocking him to the ground, pulled out an aerosol spray, and squirted it into Sam’s mouth. Sam gasped for air, unable to yell. Sergei and Willy grabbed him by his armpits, yanked him up, and slammed him into the chair, then tied and gagged him. They searched through Sam’s pockets and placed a wallet and a few coins on a table next to his chair. There was no doubting now what side of the law they were on or the danger he was in.
Peter looked suddenly uncomfortable. Sergei, noting this, said, “Go outside and look out for them if you don’t have the stomach to do your job.” Peter hesitated before slowly leaving the room and closing the door behind him.
Weak and fearful as he was, his face throbbing, Sam knew he had to summon the resolve to protect what Stephen had entrusted him with. He resumed his internal deliberations about what to do about the thumb drive.
Sergei’s black eyes, the coldest Sam had ever seen, now glowered at him. Back in the chair across from Sam, Sergei moved closer. “Let me tell you how I view the world so you know what is about to happen. I think you will understand that you have no choice but to succumb, and that any hope of acting differe
ntly is an illusion that will be absolutely shattered.”
Sergei continued. “I have no use for the weak or those who cling to superficial ideals. Life is simply a battle, and you either win or lose. It’s about order and disorder. People can either be part of the superior order or join the mass of the lowly disorder. I hate disorder and weakness, and I will not allow it to prevail. I discipline myself in extraordinary ways to ensure I will win, that I will possess power, and that I will use it to obtain whatever I want. You are simply a pawn to me. What happens to you and those you profess to care about is no concern of mine. I cannot be appeased. You will be either useful to me or not. Do not doubt that I will extract everything from you. The only things in question here are the means that will be necessary to make you tell me the truth and whether you can convince me that you can provide further value once I am done.”
Sergei turned toward Elena and directed her toward the briefcases Willy had carried in. As Sam watched, working hard to breathe through the gag, Elena opened the cases and removed four speakers which she placed around the room. Then she pointed a microphone at Sam’s mouth. She connected the speakers to an amplifier, the microphone to a laptop computer, and the computer to the amplifier. Finally, she started a program on the computer, and music began to play. Then she repeatedly and loudly clapped her hands in front of the microphone, adjusting settings on the computer, until the clapping was virtually impossible to hear.
Realization hit, followed quickly by terror.
With a calm expression that still conveyed menace, Sergei said, “I see you understand the purpose of this apparatus. It is a simple application of the same principles that are used in sound-damping headphones, only it will prevent the pathetic sounds you will make from escaping this room.” Putting on the headphones, Sergei continued. “We will be able to hear you, but no one else will.” He took off Sam’s gag and said, “Go ahead and try it. Scream as loud as you can.”
Even though Sam knew it was pointless, and wanted to control himself and maintain dignity, fear overcame him, and he yelled out for help. Instantly, he felt painful electric shocks on his arms and neck where electrodes had been attached. These only accentuated his pain and fear. He regained control and went silent. Whatever sound had escaped his mouth was barely audible within the room and certainly was not heard outside it. The sound-damping apparatus was too effective.
Sergei smiled thinly and said, “Allow me to put these on you so you can participate fully in our conversation.” He put headphones on Sam, and then added, “Go ahead. Say something softly. You won’t be shocked.”
Struggling for thoughts, Sam heard himself via the headphones clearly say, “I don’t believe that Stephen would have knowingly worked with people like you and your associates.”
“That is an astute observation, though I am offended by the inference about my character,” Sam heard a voice say. Sam recognized the voice, though its source was not in the room. “Stephen, for his own selfish reasons, made certain arrangements with us, perhaps naïve on his part, that he decided not to honor. You benefited from Stephen’s arrangements, and now, by extension, must honor what he did not. My associates in the room with you will see to that. I offer you one last chance to influence the conditions under which that occurs and how you might endeavor to work with us enthusiastically, as part of a team that will transform itself and reshape the world. Your only choice is to decide what side of human history you want to be on. You cannot stop the inevitable. Now, describe in complete detail your knowledge of Stephen’s work, leaving nothing out this time.”
Sam’s mouth went dry and he couldn’t swallow.
Showing his first real emotion, a hint of pleasure, Sergei picked up a hot soldering iron and metal clamps.
Immediately, Sam drove the heel of his foot into the floor. Sergei heard the crunch of breaking plastic. He ripped off Sam’s shoe, tore off the heel, and then tossed the broken components of the thumb drive onto the table.
In a barely controlled rage he said, “You will help us obtain what you just sought to withhold, and suffer doing it!”
Elena held up the medical kit she had found in Trish’s luggage. She opened it with her gloved hand, withdrew a scalpel, and gave it to Sergei.
• • •
Twenty minutes later, Sam’s battered, burned, and cut body slumped in the chair, held up only by the straps used to restrain him. Resolve almost gone, he had somehow managed to withhold the most significant information from his torturers. His headphones had gone silent as a disembodied voice now conferred with Sergei.
Sound back on, Sam heard the remote voice say, “No reason to hold anything back at this point.”
Sergei set up a monitor on the computer. It was a webcam from the interior of a car parked outside Sam’s brother’s house.
Sergei picked up a syringe and two bottles. He drew fluid into the syringe and held it in front of Sam. “This first injection will revive and stimulate your physical condition and heighten your sensitivity to the pain you are already feeling. The second is a drug that will act as a truth serum. If they somehow prove ineffective, you can watch as one of your nephews suffers an unfortunate, prolonged, painful ‘accident.’ After that, you will have a short time before my associates enter your brother’s home. Then you will see what happens from there. Is there anything you have to say to dissuade me?”
Sam heard the remote voice say, “Something worth fighting so hard to withhold must not be left to those not suited to using it. You’ve seen the failures of the world’s governments and religions. Do you wish to hand over to them knowledge as powerful as you possess? Look at me and see who I am.” A face appeared on the computer screen, one that Sam recognized and now feared. It continued to say, “You know that I am the right person to be entrusted with this knowledge, this power. I only use these means when important interests are at stake. And you must know that if I’ve revealed myself like this to you, your choices are gone. Now make the right decision for humanity, your family, and yourself. If Stephen hadn’t foolishly tried to escape, he would have made the right decision eventually, without what you are going through. In the end, I will guide humanity to a new future.”
With the effects of the drugs kicking in, Sam’s pain increased, his heart raced, and the surprising mental strength he had found weakened. Something within him, not quite a prayer, called out to something outside of him. In response, he felt his chest tighten up, pain shoot through his right arm, and his peripheral vision narrow. He let out a big gasp and everything went black. His limp body sagged against the restraints.
Sergei cursed and checked Sam’s pulse, then punched repeatedly on Sam’s chest without response. He said to the remote voice, “He’s dead.”
“I pay you to succeed. This is twice you’ve failed,” the voice roared.
“Something gave him unexpected resolve to resist but could not help his weak heart. You saw it. There was nothing to be done,” Sergei said with a barely concealed hint of resentment.
“We can talk about your methods later. Leave the body and get out of there.”
“I want Lawson. He’ll tell us everything rather than watch his doctor friend face us,” Sergei said with enthusiasm.
“No. He doesn’t have what we need yet. If we act now, we’ll blow our only shot with him. And try to remember that this is business, not personal. Sometimes you seem to enjoy your work too much.”
“If it was personal, he’d be dead already.”
“Search the room again before you go. Make it look like Lawson was involved,” the remote voice ordered.
As Willy packed up and Elena resumed searching the room, Peter burst through the door and said, “They are on their way.” Then he saw Sam’s body, and a look of disgust crossed his face.
To Peter, Sergei said, “It was necessary.” To everyone, he said, “Grab the equipment and get out of here, now!”
As they left,
Sergei was concerned about Peter’s reactions. How much longer could he trust him?
On her way out, Elena jabbed the scalpel into Sam’s unfeeling right hand.
Back in their cars, they pulled out unobserved as Dan and Trish walked toward their motel room. Sergei called 911 and said, “A man and woman with a gun forced another man into room 211. You need to get someone over to the Ballpark Motel right away.”
Chapter 59
For the first time since Stephen’s death, Dan felt real optimism. He was on the verge of accessing all of Stephen’s work, and with it, a cure for Ava appeared within reach. There was increasing reason to believe that life might have meaning. And in ways he didn’t yet understand, he felt that the mysteries he perceived in Trish could help him become the person he now wanted to become, and perhaps more. There was a deep serenity in her that he was drawn to.
Still, he was cautious both in his hopes and security. Walking up the steps toward their room on the motel’s second floor, he looked around constantly.
When he reached the room, he knocked, expecting Sam to be waiting inside. There was no response. Apprehensive, he knocked again. Optimism now replaced by concern, he waved Trish away, squatted down, put the plastic magnetic key in the lock, and opened the door partway. A wedge of light illuminated a portion of the room. Before he could make out everything inside, Trish pushed past him and rushed over to Sam. His body was motionless, slumped forward against the straps that bound him to the chair.
After closing the door, Dan threw open the curtains so he could see anyone approaching, then looked swiftly around the room while Trish examined Sam. She had her hand on Sam’s wrist and her head against his chest. Dan picked up phone by the bed and called 911, only to be told by the operator that ambulances and police were already on their way. As he hung up, he realized that this meant whoever had done this to Sam had called 911, perhaps with the intent of making him and Trish the targets of suspicion.