"No, they weren't. But you could argue that after the crimes they had committed they weren't given any choice about going to jail or death row either. The criminal subjects might not have been aware of the tests, but almost all have benefited. Kathy, consider one thing. No one has been harmed by the treatment. Some sixteen thousand convicts have been tested, and not only does it work, but it's safe."
"How the hell do you know? The effects could manifest themselves years into the future. God, our own research indicated that testicular and prostate cancers could be caused and accelerated by the early vectors. Not just in the subjects themselves but their children too. Male babies born with testicular cancer could be--"
Alice Prince shook her head. Her voice was almost pleading. "Kathy, I saw your early reports. Causation was never proved. I've looked into it."
"How can you say that, Alice? You know it was."
"OK, OK. But the percentage risk was minute. Come on, Kathy, the difference between the early vectors and the final Version Nine is negligible."
"Negligible? What gives you the right to say that?"
Alice looked flustered and looked toward Naylor. She had always hated conflict.
"Why don't you wait outside, Alice?" said Director Nay-lor. "Let me handle this."
Alice paused, and then with a look of shame and relief on her face she stood up and walked out.
Without missing a beat Naylor continued. "Kathy, the negligible differences are vital for gaining official FDA approval, I grant you, but hardly necessary to be safe. Kathy, the money and lives that have already been saved by doing what these people did more than offset any minute risk involved. And after Pamela's preelection announcement all future treatments will use the FDA-approved Version Nine anyway."
"What announcement?" said Kathy. She couldn't believe this.
"This Friday, Pamela Weiss--"
Kathy stopped her pacing. "Is that what Weiss was talking about on yesterday's TV debate?"
Naylor nodded. "Yes, and that's what we want to talk to you about. Once we learned that the unauthorized tests worked and your Version Nine had received full FDA approval we decided to use the crisis to the project's advantage. A scandal could push Conscience back decades, but a brave visionary announcement that seizes the opportunity might not only save the project but actually accelerate its acceptance.
"So with the full support of President Burbank, Pamela Weiss will take responsibility for the successful results of the criminal tests, putting an end to all the speculation about the positive California crime figures. She will also announce a proposed policy to treat all convicted violent criminals across the nation with your FDA-approved version of Conscience. She will tell the American people that if they elect her, she can guarantee to reduce crime across the country. What's more, Kathy, Alice, who is just as horrified about the unauthorized trials as you are, suggested you share full credit for the successful tests.
"Think about it, Kathy. You'll be famous. A Nobel Prize isn't out of the question. But more important, with the full political power of the presidency behind it, you will see your life's dream of a cure for crime realized sooner than you could have imagined. Not just in this country but worldwide. However, it's important that no one is left in any doubt that the tests conducted over the last few years were done with the FDA-approved vector. Although we know the trials were safe, we have to be seen to have known all along. Pamela Weiss must appear as a bold visionary taking calculated risks, not as irresponsible or dangerous."
This was unbelievable. Kathy walked back to her desk and leaned against it. "But she is being irresponsible and dangerous."
For the first time Naylor looked angry. "No, she isn't. The future President still isn't aware of the minor differences between Version One and Version Nine. As far as Pamela Weiss knows, the FDA approved what was tested in the unauthorized trials. And that's the way it has to stay."
"You can't do this to me. It's completely unethical. You want me to lie about my life's work?"
"No, of course not. This whole project is based on your life's work. We just need you to see the bigger picture and make the most of the opportunity. This irresponsible test threatened to ruin the credibility of everything you worked for. But this way you can use it to your advantage to make the world a better place. How can that be a bad thing?"
Kathy sat on the desk and shook her head. Minutes ago her future had been bright and challenging, but most important of all, it had been her own. Now all her dreams were being ripped from her. "But it's a lie. I'm not sure I can go through with it."
"Come on, Kathy, you have to be pragmatic to protect your ideals. The choice is simple. You can embrace what has happened and make the world a better place. Or you can denounce it, merely because some petty rules were broken, and a tiny percentage of convicted violent criminals were possibly exposed to a negligible risk of disease. If you do the first, you will achieve everything you've ever dreamed of, including the realization of your vision of a gentler world. If you do the second, then you will destroy any hope of your vision becoming a reality."
"But it's still wrong. Don't you see that?" Kathy said, her mouth dry with anger. "You want me to commit a crime to promote something that's supposed to stop it."
Naylor stood slowly and spoke calmly and forcefully. "What's done is done. The question now is, what do we do next? Do we build on your work or destroy it? Think about it. This is important. I need to know your decision by six o'clock tonight. Is that clear?"
Kathy said nothing for a moment. Her head ached with the unfairness of it all. If she kept her integrity, she would compromise her life's work, perhaps destroy it. But if she compromised her integrity, she would see her dreams realized in a fantastically short space of time. It was a deal with the devil.
"Six o'clock. Is that clear?" Madeline said again, her face impassive as she opened the door to leave.
"No, it's bloody not," said Kathy eventually. "Nothing's clear anymore."
Alice Prince squirmed inside as she waited in her car in the parking lot. She felt like a coward for walking out, but she was secretly glad to let Madeline deal with Kathy. Alice knew she owed Kathy so much. It made it difficult to lie to her. But Madeline didn't care. She was fearless.
Alice could remember the first day she met Madeline as clearly as if it were yesterday. She had arrived at St. Joseph's School in Baddington, in upstate New York, the oddest-looking girl Alice had ever seen.
Madeline was only thirteen when the principal introduced her to Alice's class, halfway through the fall semester. She had the whitest hair Alice had ever seen in an aggressive spiky cut and dark, defiant eyes that stared out of her long face. All the other kids laughed at Madeline because she looked so odd and because she lived with her grandmother, Mad Mrs. Preston, the stern old lady who lived in the rambling old house on Oxford Street, not two houses from Alice's family.
No one knew then that Madeline was staying with her grandmother only because her own mother had abandoned her when she was a toddler and her policeman father had been shot dead in front of her two weeks earlier, the shock of which had turned her hair white. Instead they teased and bullied her. Alice was glad at first because it took the heat off her.
But when the two biggest boys in the class, the Tyndale twins, picked on Madeline in the yard, Alice felt sorry for her. At least until Madeline turned on them like a wildcat, scratching them and punching them, not stopping until the boys limped off. Afterward, Alice picked up the bag and books the boys had knocked out of Madeline's hands and returned them to her. "Hi, I'm Alice," she said. "So, what's it like living at Mad Mrs. Preston's? Is it true she's got dead bodies buried under the floorboards?"
Brushing herself off, Madeline shrugged. "I don't know," she said. "Let's go take a look."
Alice still loved Madeline's fearlessness and was still frightened of her. She only hoped she wouldn't do anything to Kathy.
Striding into the sunlight of the Stanford University parking lot, Director Nay
lor wasn't too disappointed with the meeting. In a perverse way the fact that Kathy Kerr had been so openly combative pleased her. It made her decision easier.
Naylor had lied about who was responsible for the criminal tests on Project Conscience, to probe Kerr's true feelings. She had feigned innocence of the unauthorized tests to convince Kerr they were on the same side and were both forced to make the best of the situation. But Kerr hadn't bought the pragmatic approach. She was opposed on a matter of principle. Naylor had learned that when it came to compromises, people with principles could never be trusted. Whatever she said at six o'clock tonight Kerr was too much of a risk. Not only would she jeopardize Conscience, but she could also raise doubts in Pamela Weiss's mind when Crime Zero was activated. Kerr had to be taken out of the mix. Fast.
Approaching her official car, she saw Alice Prince sitting in the backseat of her Mercedes, her driver sitting obediently in front. As soon as Alice saw her, she got out of the car and came over to her.
"How did it go?" Alice asked.
"You heard her. Kerr isn't listening."
"Really?"
"Don't feel bad about it, Ali. I gave her every chance, but she's adamant."
"Are you sure?"
"As sure as I can be."
"So what do we do?"
"Don't worry, I'll handle it."
A note of panic appeared in Alice's voice. "You aren't going to hurt her, are you?"
"No, of course not," said Naylor. "I'll just make sure she's put somewhere safe until after the election. It's nothing for you to worry about." She looked around the parking lot, searching for Jackson. He should have arrived by now. "It'll look like she's gone away for a short vacation. It's all arranged."
There was a pause. "If it's the only way." Alice looked unhappy but resigned.
"It is, Ali. Trust me, it is. Anyway, we'd better get ready for our meeting with Pamela. I'll see you there."
As Naylor walked back to her official car, two agents, classic G-men in their dark suits and short haircuts, stepped out. The taller agent opened the door for her. But before she stepped in, she watched two other cars enter the lot and park next to each other a short distance away. The first was a gray Chrysler. A powerful black man with a handsome face and fierce eyes sat in the passenger seat, a weasel-faced agent at the wheel. The second car was identical and contained three men.
That was one of the things she most liked about Associate Director William Jackson; he was always exactly where she wanted him to be. Jackson had been with her for years. His team were all highly motivated agents who had faced disciplinary charges in the past that, if pursued, would have landed them in jail for a long time. Naylor had used her influence to lose the charges, and they were now unquestioningly loyal to her. Through the buffer of Jackson they kept her informed of what was happening within the bureau and sorted out any local difficulties without there being any trace back to her.
Jackson and his men didn't leave the cars.
"Banion, get me a phone," she said to the agent holding the car door open for her.
As soon as Naylor was seated in the car and the door closed behind her, a handset was passed to her. She dialed a number. Across the lot she saw William Jackson pick up his cell phone.
"Jackson," he said in a deep, distinctive nasal voice.
"I want you personally to handle this," she said. "Don't forget, only Dr. Peters is to know about it. Don't involve anyone else there." She paused, leveling her gaze at the fierce eyes across the lot. "And, Jackson, don't disappoint me."
Chapter 11.
FBI Field Office, Downtown San Francisco. Thursday, October 30, 1:56 P.M.
Sitting at one of the desks provided for visiting agents, Luke Decker tried to keep his mind off Kathy Kerr's test. Instead he placed his laptop computer into the docking station provided and proceeded to check out the thirteenth victim mentioned in Axelman's letter.
First of all he reread part of the relevant section:
. . . This last girl, the thirteenth, recognized the place I left all the girls. She told me her parents took her to play near there. The tree that covers the entrance to my tunnels was just one of many, but she called it a name. She told me she and her mom called it the Snake Tree. It's in a large forest near their home. Contact the girl's parents; they will know the place. That's where you will find the bodies--all thirteen. That's where I kept them safe.
I don't want you to go straight to the bodies. I want you to approach the parents of this last victim. Please make my peace with them. I will die soon, and only now do I realize what I have done. The knowledge is killing me, but the one thing I cling to is that my evil produced something good. I produced you. Perhaps as my son you can help me find peace by helping me make amends for my crimes....
Decker dropped the letter, an unclean thing, onto the desk. He hated the very notion of somehow helping Axel-man find redemption. Going back to his computer, Decker used slow movements of the mouse to run a search on the FBI case files database, entering the victim's name and abduction date given in the letter. As the files were retrieved, he printed them out on the printer by his desk, favoring the lowest-tech option available.
He pulled the four-page document from the printer and scanned the text. It confirmed that a girl of the same name had been abducted at the time given in Axelman's letter and that her body had never been found. But her disappearance would almost certainly have been reported in the newspapers, so that proved nothing. Decker could visit the girl's family and ask about the tree. But if this was a hoax by Axelman, a clever, cruel attempt to inflict more pain after his death, then Decker wanted no part of it. Instead he read all the available details about the victim and her family and studied the photographic images in the case file. One of the saddest consequences of Decker's work was that whenever he walked down a street and saw a young girl or woman, he unconsciously graded her for risk, instinctively knowing signs of vulnerability. Clothing, age, looks, makeup, bearing, and personality all played their part. Knowing the victim was as important as knowing the killer. The girl in the file photographs was high risk for a person like Axelman. She looked young, pretty, and innocent. It was possible Axelman was telling the truth about his thirteenth victim. But why weren't her personal effects in one of the boxes found in his house?
Decker now used the mouse to move the cursor over the Internet icon and clicked twice. After keying in his America Online password, he used a search engine to enter the area where the thirteenth victim's family still lived. In seconds he was looking at a list of possible data sources. He clicked on one: the Los Altos Verdes Community website. The home page was decorated with a stunning picture of soaring trees in a forest. A forest not unlike the one described in Axel-man's letter.
Los Altos Verdes, San Bruno Mountains,San Francisco Bay Area.One Hour Later
Eight miles from Palo Alto, Luke Decker stood by the rental Ford in a clearing overlooking one of several multimillion-dollar houses that studded the wooded estate of Los Altos Verdes.
From the website he had learned that some thirty years ago these luxury houses had been built over what was once a vast private zoo. Despite the beautiful natural setting, the zoo had fallen on hard times, and eventually the owners had sold out to a real estate company that built ten prime properties on the site, using the existing terrain and replanting new trees. It was a magical place, but the prospect of visiting the house below gave Decker no pleasure. It belonged to the family of the thirteenth victim.
Taking a deep breath, he looked up the hill to the towering trees that lined the denim blue sky. The website had made no mention of any Snake Tree, and if it did exist, then it had to be a name known only to the victim's family. Scanning the oaks, firs, and bay trees, Decker knew he would never find it without their help--if Axelman had been telling the truth.
Telling the truth.
Just the notion that Axelman was telling the truth about anything in his letter was chilling.
Checking his watch, he wandered
back to the car and picked his cell phone off the driver seat. He punched in Kathy's number and waited for her to pick up. His heart was pumping so hard he was sure the whispering forest could hear it.
The phone rang five times before it was picked up. With each ring he braced himself for the news.
"Kathy Kerr." Her voice sounded strained.
"Kathy, hi, it's Luke. I was wondering if you had the results yet." There was a pause. "Kathy? Are you there?"
"Sorry, Luke. Yes, I'm here." But she sounded distant as if her mind were elsewhere. "Yes, yes, the samples. I'll just get them. I'm sure they're ready by now."
Her apparent diffidence only made him feel worse. She sounded more focused when she came back on the line. He could hear her fingers tapping on a keyboard. "Luke, hi, I'm now in front of the Genescope. I'm scanning for the top line results and--"
"Yes? What is it?"
"Hang on, let me just double-check something."
He could hear surprise in her voice. If his heart had been beating fast before, it was racing now, a gallop of anticipation. "Well?"
"Luke, is this official?" She sounded guarded.
"What do you mean?"
"The samples in one of the bags you gave me have thrown up a virtual match with a subject on the FBI DNA database. A killer on death row. What's going on here, Luke?"
"Kathy, trust me. You don't want to know. Just tell me. Is there a relationship between the samples?"
"Luke, there's something very weird here--"
Crime Zero (aka the Crime Code) (1999) Page 10