by David Dun
The two women went in the marble-tiled bathroom and climbed in the shower. From the sound of it they were greeted with a powerful spray of water. Sam stripped and found pants and a shirt that fit him and then found clothes that looked like they might fit the women. He tossed them through the bathroom door.
In about three minutes Haley was out of the shower and helping Sarah into the bed.
Sarah was still shaking and beyond exhausted. Sam and Haley sat on the bed and opened the laptop. It took sixty seconds to find the recipe for Sargasso stew. Below it they found information about sorting through Arc genes using Venter's computer technology. At the bottom of the page was a stand-alone notation: Archaea — closer than you know.
Haley put her chin on her fist, deep in thought.
"What do you see?" he asked after what seemed a reasonable time.
"Archaea is an organism that makes methane-or consumes it-that lives almost forever and for whom oxygen is poison. So he says they are closer to me than I know.
But their DNA is circular, I believe. It's primitive even if it's closer to ours than, say, a five-thousand-gene bacteria. But none of that leads me anywhere. It's just a bunch of facts. For some reason Ben's sorting through a bunch of different Arc genes from different Arc species. If only I knew why. This is a stew, for sure. I see why Ben likened it to the Sargasso stew."
"Sarah, where are Ben's files on this computer?"
"Look under 'Ben,' in My Documents." Her tongue's swelling had reduced enough to make her easier to understand.
"These are password-protected documents," Sam said. "What's the password?"
"Don't know," Sarah said. "I never looked at 'em."
Sam tried the word Haley and got nothing. Then he tried ARCLES and they opened.
There were five documents and they were all blank.
"Damn it," Sam said.
"He thought I'd be opening them," said Haley. "So what do I know that would help?"
"Nothing if they're blank," Sam said. "Unless they are specially programmed to look blank when they aren't. Like a program within a program."
"I have a wild idea," Haley said. "Ben has a code for the burglar alarm in his house. It's 2872, my birth date. When he wants a longer password for something, like the Internet, it becomes 42872 Haley. He uses it on the Internet and everyplace he needs a long password. It's way too obvious, but why not try?"
"But who else knows it?" Sam said.
"I think only Ben, Sarah, and I know it."
Sam closed the blank document and typed in the code. This time the document opened to another dialogue box, which asked for another password. He typed ARCLES. This time the actual document opened.
Before them lay a map of the North American continent with red dots around it. Sam guessed these represented all the known methane hydrate deposits. Below were calculations and some text, which Haley studied.
"They start out telling where methane is, et cetera. Like an executive summary. I'm guessing these are elaborate mining techniques, here." She pointed at the relevant pages.
"Look at all these sketches: giant anchored ships and barges. It's like what I saw Ben and Nelson looking at."
She pointed.
"They say here that using their methods… God, get this… One 50- by 150-kilometer area off the coast of North and South Carolina is estimated to hold enough methane to supply the needs of the United States for over seventy years. Can that be true? That's unbelievable."
"So they think they know how to mine it," Sam said. "No more energy crisis and worth a fortune, if they can pull it off."
"Let's open another file," he said.
They opened the second. Once again Haley started reading, then scrolled through pages of calculations.
"We're back to aging again." She paused and a look of shock came over her face. "Oh, my God. He is giving it to people."
Sam looked over her shoulder and read Ben's notation: I have interviewed all thirty-six men and the two women on the life-extension regime denominated Arc for short.
"Interesting that there are only two women." "He's got some general material about how they chose these people for the program," Haley offered. She pointed to the text:
Of paramount importance, however, are the psychological impacts, which are as yet only partially understood and documented.
"Then he's got some comments about other reports that are related, and then he goes on some more."
A more surprising development is the complex of psychic issues that arise from taking the regimen and reorienting one's thinking to an extended life span. None of those currently on the regimen can be expected to add more than fifty years to their lives because much of the genetic damage and transformation of age was accomplished before they began the regimen and, hence, the outlook is much different for the late middle-aged and elderly participants than for those who in the future will begin the regimen before age thirty-five.
I have not yet personally begun the more robust portions of the regimen because I did not want any altered state of consciousness that might be associated with the regimen while I was evaluating its effects on my colleagues.
I am sorry to report that there seem to be significant changes in mental orientation from the onset of the regimen. However, they seem much more pronounced in the men than in the women.
First, there is a great sense of well-being that seems to be experienced by all those on Arc, including the two women.
Second, they seem to have developed a strong emotional focus on continuing self-supply
— similar to that of an addict, although this seems much less pronounced in the women.
Third, one cannot overstate the universal sentiment among participants. Perhaps belief is a better word. They view themselves as a distinct group, distinct from the rest of the human race. It is a bit disconcerting that they have such a strong us/them consciousness. I am finding that, because I am not on the regimen, I am not considered one of them.
Haley and Sam looked up at the same time, searching each other's eyes. Sarah lay asleep beside them. They continued silently reading:
On the positive side the regimen seems to foster great energy and optimism that is prevalent, unless one gets on the subject of scarcity — medication scarcity.
Unfortunately, the treatment for aging is expensive, never ending, and complex. Any hint that there might be a problem with supply seems to arouse anxiety and a mental state bordering on paranoia, particularly in males. To this group, the paramount value seems to be securing continuing availability of Arc.
An expert in the field might be able to counter some of these mental effects with drugs, but for the present I have to deal with it psychoanalytically to the best of my ability.
Members of the group seem to have retained their sense of humor and self-awareness and they are often able to laugh about their seeming paranoia over losing the supply of regimen drugs.
In all other regards mental performance of subjects remains as high, if not higher, than it ever had been.
Lately, however, they've become extremely concerned when they do not know my precise whereabouts. In the beginning I kept the various recipes for the various portions of the regimen in a vault at the foundation, but recently I destroyed the hard copies and then had only the copies on my computer and on Sarah's computer. Recently I also destroyed critical portions of the electronic documents on both computers so that I now possess the critical information only in my memory. (I was able to access the escrow and did the same.) My mistrust of Sanker necessitated these actions. I tested Sanker 's integrity and, unfortunately, it failed, thus giving me reason to thwart the escrow. I am concerned about the reaction of the male subjects when they learn what I've done.
For specific interviews and psychological test results, see the main body of this report.
Sam took another look at Haley. She seemed taken aback to the point of shock.
"I can't believe he's done this," she said.
"It's bold to the poin
t of recklessness, I agree. It should make you feel better, though."
"How?" she said.
"You can see now why he kept you out of this," Sam said. "Right? I'm sure he was afraid of your reaction. In addition to your safety. Interesting that women don't seem to have the level of paranoia."
"Two women is too small a sample. It's anecdotal."
"Spoken like a scientist."
She closed her eyes and nodded, as if clearing her mind for the work to come.
"Let's open another."
There were three left. Haley typed in the codes this time. The third popped up a third dialogue box, asking for another code.
"Uh-oh," Sam said. "He hasn't made this one easy and we don't have a code breaker."
They tried a dozen words and then the computer flashed a sign that said no more opportunities to open were available.
"We're cooked," Sam said. "We'll never get in without help. And maybe not then. I'll try for the help, but it's a long shot."
Frick was wondering whether McStott was worth a 1 percent offer, let alone the 20 percent of the take he and Khan had discussed. At Khan's insistence Frick took a call from Rolf.
Rolf spoke first: "Hello?"
"Talk quick," Frick said.
"Okay. Two things: Ben Anderson has been corresponding with people from Homeland Security and various other branches of government. We just have indications of the discussions and meetings, not the substance of them. I'm sure he destroyed any notes.
The bulk of this activity started months ago. It's real," Rolf added unnecessarily.
"What else?"
"I'm closing in on Anderson's meeting place. You know, hideout, or lab, or whatever."
"Enlighten me quickly."
"This first part could be trivial, but we read everything coming in from the field. We asked the deputies to put out an APB for Ben and they threw in his old boat, the Mallard. Someone saw divers going in over the side off a forty-something-foot boat that sounds from the description like it might have been Ben's old boat. But they said its name was Alice 5."
"Why the hell didn't you tell me?"
"I'm telling you now," Rolf said.
Frick's cursing pounded in his head. He wanted to break something. Then he spoke in patronizingly measured tones. "Then let's have a deputy call the people who saw this boat and get a precise location."
"We told Khan about it."
Khan answered immediately. "The boat was between what they call the old lime kiln and Turtle Mountain in a sparsely populated area. There's several different roads in that vicinity. We have some Anderson photos that also help."
"Is there anything in there that might be a laboratory?" Frick asked.
"Yep. That's why I got Rolf on the line with you. They're not done yet, but they've got this preliminary indication."
"I say we go there," Frick said. "Full force. Now."
"That's putting our eggs in one basket," Khan said. "It's a huge gamble, but I'm with you. I have one suggestion, though."
"Keep the real deputies on Lopez? Take our guys to Orcas?"
Khan chuckled. "I like how you think, my brother. But I'd change that just a tad. We keep the deputies on the roads going through this whole area, but we send our guys the last half-mile down all the roads."
"Then do it."
Frick hung up on Rolf.
It was time to go.
CHAPTER 37
"I found another file that's not even protected," Sam said. "It's in a CAD program and it's huge. There's a floor plan, and there's a photo."
He showed Haley and Sarah.
"I know that place," Sarah said, sitting up in bed. "We went on picnics. Waldron Island is across the way." She pointed.
"Yes, it is," Haley said. "I wonder if that's the place?"
"Deer Harbor Road, near Turtle Mountain-Orcas Nob. No Trespassing signs."
Sam and Haley listened carefully as Sarah explained how to get there.
"You know things that don't seem significant," Sam said to Sarah. "That's often the way we find something that nobody wants found."
Haley jumped off the bed. "I need to check on the Harlasens."
"The men took me, but they didn't hurt them," Sarah said, finally wearing out. She looked groggy.
"When you were there, they didn't hurt them," Sam said.
"We need to make sure they're safe now before we run over to Orcas. I'll take the ship's tender," Sam said. "It's fast and will get me close in a hurry."
"On the water you'll be a sitting duck. Not to mention, you're crippled when you get ashore," Haley said. "It's getting worse. I can see it. You won't be able to run, so you'll fight. Outnumbered. Don't go by yourself."
Sam's cell rang, but the signal was bad and the caller disappeared. The phone recorded the number. Using the yacht's satellite phone, he called back.
"This is Eugene."
Harlasen, Sam mouthed to Sarah and Haley.
"Where you at?" Sam asked.
"Out in the forest, up on a hill. I didn't want you to come looking."
"You got away?"
"Yep, and we'll be a little trigger-happy here, I'm afraid. We've got guns. In this forest at night, I think we can take them down."
"I'm sorry about all this, Eugene. Stay put and good luck. Do you know where we get a boat to head to Orcas? I'd like something really fast and a little bigger than a Zodiac tender."
"Neighbor over there on Aleck Bay has a big Boston Whaler anchored out," Harlasen said. "He's really a hobbyist and not a fisherman, but he has some crab pots and runs a couple long lines. Sometimes when he's away, I check them. He's normally got a key under the driver's seat, right-hand side. It's on a ledge and hard to get to. Sometimes I have to put another key in the crack to get it out. If you wreck it, we'll have to replace it."
"Understand." Sam wished him well again, hung up, and called Ernie, who would be craving his sleep by this time. Ernie answered on the first ring; Sam began by explaining what had happened in the meantime. He emphasized the torture: more civil-rights violations for Ernie to pursue.
"My boss wants me to call the Washington State attorney general first thing this morning. He probably won't be home. I don't know what to tell you."
"We have got to get some independent law enforcement in here," Sam began. "You would be good."
"With no official jurisdiction and against orders?"
"Uh-huh. This is so egregious, somebody is bound to do something. You might as well be here, Ernie, and get the glory. We are talking big things, Ernie, very big."
"Like what?" asked Ernie.
"Like terrorists blowing up the ocean."
"Are you out of your mind? It sounds hokey."
"Maybe."
Sam proceeded to give Ernie a breakdown of all Ben's discoveries, with an emphasis on the methane angle.
There was a very long pause.
Sam could imagine Ernie with his chin in his hand, squeezing it so tight his knuckles were turning white.
"This is serious."
"This involves the most important secrets to overcoming aging. And it's not just the future we're concerned about. We have people killing for Ben Anderson's knowledge,"
Sam said.
"All right. Hell. I'll probably get fired. Actually, I'm already in San Francisco. It automatically rings through to my cell. I hope my career survives this. Friday Harbor on San Juan Island, is that where I go?"
"Come there and I'll call you on the cell and tell you where we are. But if something goes wrong, we're going to Orcas Island, around Lime Kiln Road, or the Sawmill Road.
Somewhere in there is an unmarked road. It has a couple branches. Follow the biggest No Trespassing signs."
"What I don't do for you." Ernie sighed. "Out of my jurisdiction, out of my mind-I tell you."
"Well, there is one more thing."
"Of course. There always is."
Sam knew he wouldn't like the next part.
"I'm on the Internet with a laptop through a
satellite uplink. I need Grogg, wherever he is, to remote control Big Brain and then use Big Brain to remote control this PC and download the contents of this PC and break into some files."
"Are you kidding me? They'll have my ass."
"Don't go through channels; just call Grogg. It'll be on us."
"I'll tell Grogg what you need," Ernie said. "And let's be clear: I am not authorizing it."
"Perfect; that will insure Grogg's full commitment to the job," Sam joked. Another pause followed; then Sam explained how to get to the files and Ernie took notes.
Sam set up the computer online through the ship's satellite network so that it would be ready for a Grogg job.
From the resort on Lopez, Khan launched Sheriff's Boats 1 and 2 with sixteen of the hired men and made for Orcas. Others took vehicles on the morning interisland ferry.
Frick sent Khan ahead without him, wanting to stay at a command center until somebody found something.
Orcas already had four deputies and five patrol cars. The sergeant remained drugged in a basement. They would keep the real deputies on the roads and checking leads. They'd use the special deputies for assaults on suspicious properties.
The cold air chilled Frick's skin as he stood on the back deck of the resort, sipping coffee, anxious for the caffeine to take hold. On the eastern horizon the black night sky was giving way to morning and he could see the first signs of light off in the west.
His radio crackled. Delia had McStott for him.
Frick tried not to sigh audibly.
"What is it?"
"I still don't know what Anderson's been making here in the lab, but I'm beginning to think I know what he's using it on."
"Yeah?"
"People." McStott let that sink in.
Big surprise. Frick almost laughed. "Is that so?"
McStott missed the sarcasm. "I think so. I mean, I'm pretty sure."
"If it turns out it's true and this stuff works, you'll be a rich man, McStott. If not, you may be a dead one."
Frick let McStott think on that. Once an egghead, always an egghead. McStott still didn't understand that he was dead meat either way.