Perimeter

by M. A. Rothman

  He pulled out a chair and harrumphed as he sat. “I was there a full three days, and all they did was take my blood pressure, temp, listen to my heart, and make me drink the water that comes out of that darned thing.” He pointed to the device on the table. It had a chrome spout on its front and a long hose trailing from the rear. “And if that’s all they’re gonna do,” he continued, “I can do that just fine in my own house, with my family.”

  He gave Kathy a wink. “Can you get me my crescent wrench? I need to hook this thing up to the water line.”

  Kathy just stood there, staring at her father. She was at a loss for words.

  He glanced back and forth between the two women. “Well? Do I need to get the damned thing myself?”

  Kathy found her voice. “I’ll get it, Dad.”

  As she left for the tool shed, she heard her mom shouting behind her, “You’ve just plumb lost your mind, Franklin O’Reilly!”

  ###

  Frank sat in the recliner with Jasper’s big head on his knee. Kathy handed him a large clear glass of water.

  “It’s time for your medicine, Dad.”

  He grimaced as Kathy stood over him, waiting. Sometimes he swore he could see a swirl of something in the water, but today it looked perfectly clear.

  “Fine,” he grumbled. “Bottoms up.” He downed the water and handed her the glass.

  “Thanks, Dad.” She returned to the kitchen where she’d been helping Megan with dinner.

  The water didn’t taste any different going down, but sometimes after drinking it, he felt as if he’d swallowed a copper penny. And then there was the burning.

  Jasper whined and Frank gave him a scratch on the top of his head just as the burning hit.

  Frank closed his eyes as the dull aches in his joints transformed into balls of fiery pain. He breathed slowly in and out, but even that was a chore as the burning sensation spread throughout his body.

  Jasper whined again, as if he could sense his pain.

  It had been two weeks since he’d left the hospital, and though he didn’t feel any better, he reckoned he didn’t feel much worse. Basically, he’d replaced one pain with another. Instead of the aches and shooting pains he used to feel every time he walked or moved, now he felt a dull, non-stop burning sensation everywhere. It was going to get worse, peaking at about two hours after drinking the water.

  “Frank, how are you feeling?” Megan called from the kitchen.

  “I feel like I’m dying,” he yelled back.

  “Dad, you’re too stubborn for that,” Kathy shouted. “Are you hungry?”

  Frank pondered the question. Maybe the burning pain he felt in his stomach was partially due to hunger. “I suppose I could be convinced into eating something.”

  “Food will be on the table in half an hour,” Megan announced.

  Something caught Jasper’s attention and he padded over to the women.

  Frank put his chair into a reclining position. Through the burning pain, a wave of fatigue washed over him.

  By the time dinner was ready, Frank O’Reilly was peacefully snoring.

  ###

  Two weeks after the move to DC, Juan had finally settled into a comfortable routine. The new lab was tremendous—three times the size of the old one—and he had four new interns at his disposal, none of whom were scared of handling rats. Things were looking up.

  And that wasn’t even the best part.

  The best part was Kathy.

  Juan sat in his new office, talking to her on the phone, smiling like a teenager talking to the prom queen. She sounded so much happier than the last time they’d talked.

  “And Dad’s eating like he hasn’t been fed in ages! It’s awesome. I can tell he’s still in pain, but I sometimes think I see glimpses of the way he was before the cancer hit. I know I’m probably imagining it, but this stuff he’s on might be helping.”

  “I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear it, Kathy. I really hope everything turns out well. But… just keep in the back of your mind that he has a serious condition. You understand what I mean?”

  “Oh, I do. I mean, I’m trying to keep my expectations in check.” It sounded to Juan as if she’d failed in that regard. “So, how are things with you? You’re up in New York, right? Getting ready for a white Christmas?”

  Juan laughed. “Normally, I’d say yes. But my work has transferred me to DC, and we’re having some warm weather right now.”

  “No way! That’s awesome. I mean… I hope the move’s good for you. Is it?”

  “It is. I mean I really haven’t had much chance to get to know DC. Been hammered at work. Actually…” Juan’s stomach churned as he built up the courage to step over a line he hadn’t expected to have the opportunity to cross. “Maybe when you get back, you can recommend another nice place to go in DC. We could, uh… maybe we could explore it together.”

  The line fell silent for a second. When Kathy spoke, her voice was softer, almost timid. “I’d love that.”

  Juan’s cheeks were beginning to ache from the smile on his face. He glanced up at the clock. “Okay. Great. Listen, I’ve got a meeting I need to get to, so I have to get going, but Kathy, I’m really glad to hear about your dad’s progress. Please keep me posted on how both of you are doing. It’s really been great talking to you.”

  “Juan, thanks again for everything. I really mean it. Go catch your meeting. I’ll go back to doing chores in the kitchen.”

  Juan laughed. “Have fun, Cinderella.”

  “Cinderella, eh?”

  “If the shoe fits—”

  Kathy groaned. “Oh lord. Goodbye, Mr. Prince Charming.”

  As he hung up, Juan punched the air with jubilation. He couldn’t remember ever being so excited at the prospect of a date.

  His desk phone rang, and Juan snatched the receiver off its cradle. “Hello?”

  “Juan.” It was Carol. “I just completed the metabolic panel on the new batch of specimens. You’ll want to see this.”

  “I’m just now on my way to a meeting.”

  “Be a few minutes late.”

  Juan laughed. “Okay. Be right there.”

  ###

  Juan scanned the rats as he walked past the rows of glass cages. All the animals had been seeded with cancerous cells, and in the control group, the result was as expected: every rat had obvious subcutaneous tumor growth. But the test group had first been given a viral cocktail that had changed their genetic makeup. And they showed no tumor growth.

  The first specimen that had exhibited any level of tumor immunity had been Hercules. In addition to tumor suppression, the changes in his genetic makeup had made him grow much larger than normal. His metabolism had also significantly changed as compared to the norms of his species.

  He stopped beside Carol. “So, what do the tests show?”

  Carol handed him a printout with a complete blood chemistry workup and metabolic test results. “I think we’re practically there. We just have one test that’s a bit off.”

  Juan skipped over the iron levels, bilirubin, protein and other miscellaneous tests that all proved to be in normal ranges. His finger floated across the sections of the report that Carol had highlighted and rested on the BMR row. “So, basal metabolic rate is just barely above the control range. Is that the case for all of them?”

  “All of the oxygen consumption rates are relatively high. Out of the ten test specimens, seven have a BMR that’s above normal.”

  “The other three are in range?”

  Carol nodded. “They’d just barely squeaked under the top end of normal.”

  Juan frowned. What could be causing the anomaly?

  He looked over the rest of the highlighted rows. “So, there’s definitely something going on. Thyroid, glucose, potassium, albumin, calcium, all normal. BUN and creatinine are normal, so the kidneys seem to be working okay. Electrolyte levels are normal. Hmm.”

  “You have any other id
eas?” Carol asked.

  Juan shook his head as he wracked his brain for anything else that might explain the off-kilter metabolic results. “I suppose it’s possible that while the body’s immune system is destroying the tumor cells we injected, it could affect the test results, but that’s just a guess.”

  Tapping her fingers on one of the clear cages, Carol peered at one of the seemingly healthy rats. The rat glanced up at the disturbance and went back to eating his food pellet. “If that’s the case, maybe if we repeat the tests in a week, the results might change.”

  Hopping off the lab stool, Juan gave Carol a fist-bump and said, “That’s a great idea. Let’s do that. In the meantime, have the interns prep another dozen specimens for inoculation. I want to triple-check everything we’re doing and have another round of tests at one-week intervals. Maybe we’ll see the BMR change over time. I’ll go do more research and see if there’s anything else I can come up with.”

  “You know,” Carol said, “I think we’re on the brink of something here.”

  An electric tingle of anticipation flushed through Juan. “I really hope so.”

  ###

  It was just past seven in the evening as Juan found himself driving southbound on I-395 after a long day at work. The rain had turned to sleet as he took exit 7 into Arlington. He was only minutes away from his new two-bedroom apartment and a comfortable bed.

  As he pulled into the apartment complex, he wondered why the lights in the parking lot hadn’t come on like usual.

  Juan eased into his covered parking spot, hopped out of the car, and climbed the steps to the second floor. It began to snow.

  As he approached apartment 2B, he pulled out his keys and spotted his door slightly ajar.

  His blood ran cold.

  He took his phone from his pocket and prepared to dial 911. Then he slowly pressed the door open.

  The place was in chaos.

  His medical books had been pulled off the shelves and strewn across the floor.

  The stuffing in the sofas had been ripped out. Holes had been cut out of the drywall.

  With his heart racing, Juan stepped out onto the landing and away from the door. He dialed 911.

  “911, what’s your emergency?”

  “My name is Juan Gutierrez. I just got to my apartment and someone broke in and tore the place apart.”

  “Sir, do you know if the intruders are still there?”

  Juan’s heavy breathing blew jets of steam in the cold night air. “I have no idea. I didn’t go in. I’m at 2350 26th Court South, Apartment 2B, in Arlington.”

  “I’m sending police officers to your location right away. I want you to stay on the phone with me until they get there.”

  From out of the corner of his eye, Juan noticed movement below in the parking lot. A group of four men converged at the base of the stairs.

  “Um, some people with FBI windbreakers just arrived.”

  “Did you say the FBI?”

  “Dr. Gutierrez?” called one of the men. He flashed something that might have been a badge, and he wore a pistol in a shoulder holster.

  The three other men entered his apartment.

  Juan nodded. “I’m Dr. Gutierrez. I’m on the phone with 911.”

  “Juan, the police are two blocks away.”

  The man’s chiseled features grimaced as the sound of a siren blared in the distance. He pressed a button on something against his throat and whispered something Juan couldn’t hear.

  The sound of breaking glass sounded from inside his apartment, followed by what sounded like swearing in German. The three men who’d entered his apartment came back out, and then all four men raced down the stairs.

  “Juan, what’s going on?”

  “I have no idea. The FBI came, entered my apartment, and then left!”

  Two black-and-white cop cars raced into the parking lot with their lights flashing just as a black-paneled van passed them on its way out.

  “Two cop cars just arrived.”

  “I’ve just received confirmation that officers Taggart and Wilson from the Arlington PD are at the scene. They should be able to handle this from here on in.”

  “Okay, thank you.”

  The cops raced up the stairs. One had his gun drawn and aimed at the ground.

  Juan stepped back nervously. “I’m Juan Gutierrez, I called this in.”

  “Mr. Gutierrez.” The lead officer approached, keeping about ten feet between him and Juan. “Can you please show me some ID?”

  Juan showed the AgriMed picture ID that was still clipped to his lab coat. “This is my work ID. I have a driver’s license in my wallet, but I’d have to reach into my back pocket.”

  The officer leaned in close enough for Juan to read the name “Taggart” on his uniform.

  Taggart nodded. “Please stay here while we enter and clear the scene.”

  Juan’s heart thudded loudly as the two officers, both with guns drawn, entered his apartment.

  ###

  “I’m sorry to call you at night, Dr. Winslow.” Juan’s voice shook as he pressed the Bluetooth earpiece that was linked to his cellphone into place. It crackled with some static as several newly arrived policemen took photos of the devastation in his apartment.

  “No, you did the right thing. The FBI were there?”

  Juan shook his head as he stared at the broken furniture, torn-up mattress, and books with their spines ripped open. “They wore FBI windbreakers and flashed a badge, but I don’t know. It’s all kind of surreal.”

  A cop approached with a clipboard. “Mr. Gutierrez, I know it’s hard to tell, but did you notice anything missing?”

  Keeping his hands in his pockets like he’d been told to earlier, Juan scanned for the obvious things people would steal. His flat-screen TV was still there, though it had been knocked to the floor. His shoes crunched on broken glass as he walked into his bedroom. His nightstand had been ripped open, its drawers emptied; yet the delicate gold chain with the cross-shaped medallion—it had been his mother’s—lay on the floor. They hadn’t taken that either.

  He breathed a sigh of relief.

  Then his eyes widened. “The laptop I keep on my nightstand. I don’t see it.”

  The officer nodded. “Laptops are easy to sell. Though…” His gaze settled on the golden cross. “It’s curious that they didn’t take the jewelry. That’s also easy to fence.” The man from the Arlington PD looked up at him and asked, “Have you talked with anyone you didn’t know recently, or noticed people in this complex that aren’t normally here?”

  Juan shook his head. His throat felt dry and the cold was seeping through his jacket. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’ve only been in town for a few weeks, so everyone is new to me.”

  Winslow’s voice sounded in his ear. “Juan, did you have anything we need to worry about on that laptop?”

  Turning away from the officer, who was busily scribbling on his clipboard, Juan whispered, “No, I mostly had some games and audiobooks on it. Nothing work-related.”

  “Listen to me, Juan. I’m going to call our security folks and make some arrangements. I don’t like what I’m hearing. Hold on a second, and let me make a quick call.”

  As one of the officers walked past, Juan asked, “Can I pack up some clothes? I obviously can’t stay here tonight.”

  The cop called out across the apartment, “Hey, Ed. Have you dusted the bedroom yet?”

  “Ed” was wearing street clothes with an Arlington PD jacket, and had been dusting for fingerprints at the sink in the guest bathroom. “Yup, the bedroom’s been processed.”

  The officer turned back to Juan. “Go ahead, sir.”

  Juan was grabbing some shirts when Winslow’s voice came back in his ear piece. “Juan, Carl is on his way to pick you up. He’ll take you to the hotel you stayed at before. We have a corporate suite there, and it’s yours until we can confirm this wasn’t related to work.”

/>   “Do you think it could be?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll call the FBI tomorrow morning and see what they have to say. When Carl arrives, give him your car keys and he’ll arrange for your car to be waiting for you at the office.”

  “Dr. Winslow, thanks for everything.”

  “And Juan, don’t worry. This is probably nothing, but just in case it isn’t, that’s why the company has security resources. We take care of our own.”

  Juan’s phone beeped. “Dr. Winslow, one second, I’m getting a second call.” He pressed a button on the earpiece and the second call connected.

  “Dr. Gutierrez, this is Carl Weatherby with AgriMed security. I’m turning in to your apartment complex now. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be at the base of the stairs.”

  “Wow, that was quick! I’ll talk to the cops and see how much longer I’m needed. They’ve already taken my statement.”

  “Roger that.”

  Juan pressed the button on his earpiece and reconnected his prior call. “Dr. Winslow, Carl’s here. I think everything is under control now, thank you.”

  “Good. Tomorrow morning, come to my office first thing. We’ll talk to the FBI together and see what they have to say. Goodnight, Juan.”

  “Goodnight.”

  Juan hung up and panned his gaze across what was left of his apartment. Even his brand-new king-sized mattress had been ripped to shreds, metal coils exposed. He couldn’t bring himself to believe this was a simple burglary. To destroy so much, and take so little…

  What the hell were they looking for?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nate pursed his lips as Juan Gutierrez gave his sworn testimony about the burglary. The man was clearly shaken by the event, but Nate pressed him for every last detail. He’d already read the preliminary police report and visited the man’s apartment. And he agreed with the victim’s speculation about motive.

  Someone had been looking for something specific.

  They sat in a private conference room at AgriMed. The fifteen-foot-long wooden table and the plush leather chairs spoke of money. However, Dr. Gutierrez didn’t have the look of a corporate type. He was younger, probably in his mid-thirties, and Hispanic. His disheveled appearance and mussed hair fit the description of someone who’d just been displaced from his home.