Mutation

by Robin Cook

  Before the drying was complete, Victor got one of the laboratory timing devices and a battery pack and hooked up a small ignition filament. The next step was the most trying. There was a very small amount of mercury fulminate in the lab. Victor carefully packed it gently into a small plastic container. Carefully, he pushed in the ignition filament and closed the cap.

  By this time the nitroglycerin was dry enough to be packed into an empty soda can that he’d retrieved from the wastebasket. When it was about one quarter full, Victor gently lowered the container with the ignition filament into the can until it rested on the contents. He then added the rest of the nitroglycerin and sealed the can with parrafin wax.

  Taking everything back to his lab office, Victor started a search for some appropriate container. Glancing into one of the technicians’ offices, he spotted a vinyl briefcase. Victor opened the latches and unceremoniously dumped the contents onto the individual’s desk. He carried the case back to his office.

  With the empty briefcase on his desk, Victor wadded up paper towels to create a cushioned bed. Carefully he laid the soda can, the battery pack, and the timing device on the crumpled paper towels. He then wadded up additional paper towels to fill the briefcase to overflowing. With gentle pressure, he forcibly closed and latched the lid.

  From the main part of the lab, Victor got a flashlight. He took out the plans that showed the tunnel network. He studied them carefully, noting that one of the main tunnels ran from the clock tower to the building housing the cafeteria. What was especially encouraging was that close to the clock tower, a tunnel led off in a westerly direction.

  Carrying the briefcase as carefully as possible, Victor crossed to the cafeteria building. Access to the basement was in a central stairwell. Victor went down into the basement and opened the heavy door that sealed the tunnel to the clock tower.

  Victor shined his flashlight into the tunnel. It was constructed of stone blocks. It reminded Victor of some ancient Egyptian tomb. He could only see about forty feet in front of him since the passageway turned sharply to the left after that. The floor was filled with rubble and trash. Water trickled in the direction of the river, forming black pools at intervals.

  Taking a deep breath for courage, Victor stepped into the cold, damp tunnel and pulled the door shut behind him. The only light was the swath cut by his flashlight beam.

  Victor set off, determined but cautious. Too much was at stake. He couldn’t fail. In the distance he could hear the sound of water running. Within a few minutes he’d passed a half dozen tunnels that branched off the main alley he was in. As he got closer to the river he could feel the falls’ throb as much as hear it.

  Victor felt something brush by his legs. Forgetting himself, he leaped back in terror, flailing the briefcase precariously. Once he’d calmed himself, he flashed a beam of light behind him. A pair of eyes gleamed in the beam of the ray. Victor shuddered, realizing he was staring at a sewer rat the size of a small cat. Summoning his courage, he pressed on.

  But only a few steps past the rat, Victor slid on the floor’s suddenly slippery surface. Frantic to maintain his balance, he had the presence of mind to hug the briefcase tightly as he fell against the wall of the tunnel. Victor stayed on his feet; he did not fall to the ground. Luckily, his elbow had slammed into the stone, not the case. If the briefcase had hit instead, or if he had fallen, it would undoubtedly have detonated.

  A second time, Victor began to make his nerve-racking way through the subterranean obstacle course. Finally, he came to the path that left the main tunnel at the proper angle; it had to be the tunnel that went west. With some confidence, Victor followed this tunnel until it entered the basement of the edifice immediately upriver from the clock tower building.

  Victor turned his flashlight off after noting where the stairs were located. He could not take the risk of the glow from the beam being seen by someone in the clock tower.

  The next forty feet were the worst of all. Victor moved a step at a time, advancing first his right foot, then bringing up his left. He skirted the debris as best he could, ever fearful of a fall.

  Finally, he got to the stairs and started up. Once he reached the first floor, he went to the nearest window and glanced at the clock tower building. A sliver of moon had risen in the eastern sky almost directly in line with the Big Ben replica. Victor surveyed the darkened hulk for ten minutes, but saw no one.

  He then looked toward the river. Lowering his gaze, he saw his goal. About forty feet from where he stood was the point where the old main sluice left the river, running toward the clock tower and into its tunnel.

  After one last look at the clock tower building to make sure there were no guards about, Victor left the building he was in and hurried over to the sluice. He kept as low to the ground as possible, knowing he was at his most vulnerable.

  When he got to the sluice he quickly went to the steep steps just behind the sluice gates. With no hesitation, he made his way down the steps, hugging the granite wall to stay as out of sight as possible. Reaching the floor, he was pleased to see that he could only make out a portion of the clock tower. That meant no one at the ground level could spot him.

  Wasting no time, Victor walked directly to the two rusted metal gates that held back the water in the millpond. There was a slight amount of leakage; a small stream dribbled along the floor of the sluice. Otherwise, the old gates were watertight.

  Bending down, Victor carefully laid the briefcase on the floor of the sluice. With equal care, he unsnapped the latches and raised the lid. The apparatus had survived the trip. Now he just had to set it to blow.

  Too little time would be a disaster; but so would too much. Surprise was his main advantage. But there was no good way to guess how much time he’d need for his next task. Finally, and a bit arbitrarily, he settled on thirty minutes. As gently as possibly, Victor opened the face of the laboratory timing device. On his hands and knees, he shielded the flashlight with his body and turned it on. In the spare light, he moved the minute hand of the timer.

  Victor killed the light and carefully closed the briefcase. Taking a deep breath, he carried it to the sluice gate and wedged it between the gate on the left and the steel rod that supported it. A single rusty bolt kept the steel rod in place. Victor felt that this bolt was the Achilles’ heel of the mechanism; he pushed the briefcase as close to the bolt as he could. Then he headed up the steep granite steps.

  Peering over the lip of the sluice, Victor looked for signs of life in the darkened clock tower building, but all was quiet. Keeping his head down low, he scampered back to the nearby building and descended into the tunnel system. He groped back to the cafeteria, already wishing he had given himself more than thirty minutes.

  Once out in the open air, Victor ran toward the river, slowing as the clock tower came into view. In case someone was on watch, he wanted to appear calm in his approach, not anxious or stealthy.

  Completely winded, Victor arrived at the front steps. He hesitated for a moment to catch his breath, but a glance at his watch horrified him. He only had sixteen minutes left. “My God,” he whispered as he rushed inside.

  Victor ran to the trapdoor and rapped on it three times. When no one came to open it, he rapped again with more force. Still no answer. Bending down, he felt around the floor for the metal rod he’d used on his last nighttime visit, but before he could find it, the trapdoor opened and light flooded up from below. One of Martinez’s people was there.

  Victor hopped down the stairs.

  “Where’s VJ?” he asked, trying to sound as calm as possible.

  The guard pointed to the gestation room. Victor started in that direction, but VJ pushed the door open before he got there.

  “Father?” VJ said with surprise. “I didn’t expect you until tomorrow.”

  “Couldn’t stay away,” Victor said with a laugh. “I finished up what I had to get done. Now it’s your mother’s turn. She has some patients who need her. She hasn’t made her hospital round
s.”

  Victor’s eyes wandered away from VJ and once again surveyed the room. What he needed to decide was where he should be at zero hour. He thought he’d have to be as close to the stairs as possible. The instrument that was the closest was the giant gas chromatography unit, and Victor decided that he’d allow it to occupy his attention when the time came.

  Directly in the middle of the wall facing the river was the opening of the sluice with its makeshift hatch constructed of rough-hewn timbers. Victor made a mental calculation of the force that would hit that door when the sluice gate blew and the water rushed in. The preceding concussion wave would be like an explosion, and combined with the force of the water, it could loosen the foundation and topple the whole building. Victor figured there would be an approximate twenty-second delay from the explosion to the moment the tsunami struck.

  “I think it might be too soon to let Marsha leave,” VJ said. “And it would be awkward for Jorge to be constantly with her.” VJ paused as his sharp eyes regarded his father. “Where is Jorge?”

  “Topside,” Victor said with a shiver of fear. VJ missed nothing. “He saw me down and stayed up there to smoke.”

  VJ glanced over at the two guards, who were reading magazines. “Juan! Go up and tell Jorge to come down here.”

  Victor swallowed uneasily. His throat was parched. “Marsha will not be a problem. I guarantee it.”

  “She hasn’t changed her opinion,” VJ said. “I’ve had Mary Millman try talking with her, but her obstinate moralistic stance is unshakable. I’m afraid she’ll make trouble.”

  Victor sneaked a look at his watch. Nine minutes! He should have allowed himself more time. “But Marsha is a realist,” he blurted. “She’s stubborn. That’s nothing new to either of us. And, you’ll have me. She wouldn’t try anything knowing you had me here. Besides, she wouldn’t know what to do even if she was tempted to do something.”

  “You’re nervous,” VJ said.

  “Of course I’m nervous,” Victor snapped. “Anybody would be nervous under the circumstances.” He tried to smile and appear more at ease. “Mainly, I’m excited—about your accomplishments. I’d like to see that list of growth factors for the artificial womb tonight.”

  “I’d be delighted to show it to you,” VJ admitted.

  Victor walked over and opened the door to the living quarters. “Well, that’s encouraging,” he said, looking at VJ. “You don’t feel you have to lock her in anymore. I’d say that was progress.”

  VJ rolled his eyes.

  Victor hurriedly went into the smaller room where Marsha and Mary were sitting.

  “Victor, look who’s here,” Marsha said, gesturing toward Mary.

  “We’ve already met,” Victor said, nodding at Mary.

  VJ was standing in the doorway with a grin on his face.

  “Not every kid has three legitimate biological parents,” Victor said, attempting to ease the tension. He glanced at his watch: only six minutes to go.

  “Mary has told me some interesting things about the new lab,” Marsha said with subtle sarcasm that only Victor could appreciate.

  “Wonderful,” said Victor. “That’s wonderful. But, Marsha, it’s your turn to leave. You have dozens of patients who are desperate for your attention. Jean is frantic. She’s called me three times. Now that I’ve handled my pressing problems, it’s your turn to go.”

  Marsha eyed VJ, then looked at Victor. “I thought that you were going to take care of things,” she said with irritation. “Valerie Maddox can handle any emergencies. I think it’s more important for you to do what you have to do.”

  Victor had to get her out of there. Why wouldn’t she just leave? Did she really not trust him? Did she really think he was just going to let this go on? Sadly, Victor realized that for the past few years he hadn’t given her much reason to expect better from him. Yet a solution was coming, and it was only a few frightening moments away.

  “Marsha, I want you to go do your hospital rounds. Now!”

  But Marsha wouldn’t budge.

  “I think she likes it here!” VJ joked. Then one of the security men called him from the main part of the lab and he left.

  Half-crazed with mounting anxiety, Victor leaned over to Marsha and, forgetting Mary, hissed: “You have to get out of here this instant. Trust me.”

  Marsha looked in his eyes. Victor nodded. “Please!” he moaned. “Get out of here!”

  “Is something going to happen?” Marsha asked him.

  “Yes, for chrissake!” Victor forcibly whispered.

  “What’s going to happen?” Mary said nervously, looking back and forth between the Franks.

  “What about you?” Marsha questioned, ignoring Mary.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Victor snapped.

  “You’re not going to do something foolish?” Marsha asked.

  Victor snapped his hands over his eyes. The tension was becoming unbearable. His watch said less than three minutes.

  VJ reappeared at the doorway. “Jorge is not upstairs,” he said to Victor.

  Mary turned to VJ. “Something is going to happen!” she cried.

  “What?” VJ demanded.

  “He’s doing something,” Mary said anxiously. “He’s got something planned.”

  Victor looked at his watch: two minutes.

  VJ called over his shoulder for Security, then grabbed Victor’s arm. Shaking him, he demanded, “What have you done?”

  Victor lost control. The tension was too much and fear overflowed into emotion, bringing a sudden gush of tears. For a moment he couldn’t talk. He knew that he had utterly failed. He’d not been up to the challenge.

  “What have you done?” VJ repeated as he shouted into Victor’s face, shaking him again. Victor did not resist.

  “We all have to get out of the lab,” Victor managed through his tears.

  “Why?” VJ questioned.

  “Because the sluice is going to open,” Victor wailed.

  There was a pause as VJ’s mind processed this sudden information.

  “When?” VJ demanded, shaking his father again.

  Victor looked at his watch. There was less than a minute. “Now!” he said.

  VJ’s eyes blazed at his father. “I counted on you,” he said with burning hatred. “I thought you were a true scientist. Well, now you are history.”

  Victor leaped up, knocking VJ to the side, where he tripped on the leg of a chair. Victor grabbed Marsha’s wrist and yanked her to her feet. He ran her through the living quarters and out into the main lab.

  VJ had regained his feet instantly and followed his parents, screaming for the security men to stop them.

  From their bench it was easy for the two security men to catch Victor, grabbing him by both arms. Victor managed to give Marsha a push up the stairs. She ran part way up, then turned back to the room.

  “Go!” Victor shouted at her. Then, to the two guards he urgently said, “This whole lab is about to disintegrate in seconds. Trust me.”

  Looking at Victor’s face, the guards believed him. They let go of him and fled up the stairs, passing Marsha.

  “Wait!” VJ cried from the middle of the lab floor. But the stampede had started. Even Mary brushed by him in her haste to get to the stairs.

  Marsha got out, with Mary following on her heels.

  VJ’s eyes blazed at his father. “I counted on you,” he raged. “I trusted you. I thought you were a man of science. I wanted to be like you. Guards!” he shouted. “Guards!” But the guards had fled along with the women.

  VJ whirled around, looking at the main lab. Then he looked over at the gestational room.

  Just then, the muffled roar of an explosion rocked the entire basement. A sound like thunder began to build and vibrate the room. VJ sensed what was coming and started to run for the stairs, but Victor reached out and grabbed him.

  “What are you doing?” VJ cried. “Let me go. We’ve got to get out of here.”

  “No,” Victor said over
the din. “No, we don’t.”

  VJ struggled, but Victor’s hold was firm. Wryly, he realized for all his son’s vast mental powers, he still had the body—and strength—of a ten-year-old.

  VJ squirmed and tried to kick, but Victor hooked his free hand behind VJ’s knees and swept the boy off his feet.

  “Help!” VJ cried. “Security!” he cried, but his voice was lost in a low rumbling noise that steadily increased, rattling the laboratory glassware. It was like the beginnings of an earthquake.

  Victor stepped over to the crude door covering the opening of the sluice tunnel. He stopped five feet from it. He looked down into his son’s unblinking ice-blue eyes which stared back defiantly.

  “I’m sorry, VJ.” But the apology was not for what he was doing that minute. For that he was not sorry. But Victor felt he owned his son an apology for the experiment he’d carried out in a lab a little over ten years ago. The experiment that had yielded his brilliant but conscienceless son. “Good-bye, Isaac.”

  At that moment, one hundred tons of incompressible water burst through the sluice opening. The old paddle wheel in the center of the room turned madly, cranking the old rusted gears and rods for the first time in years and, for a brief moment, the giant clock in the top of the tower chimed haphazardly. But the undirected and uncontrolled water quickly pulverized everything in its path, undermining even the granite foundation blocks within minutes. Several of the larger blocks shifted, and the beams supporting the first floor began to fall through to the basement. Ten minutes after the explosion, the clock tower itself began to wobble and then, seemingly in slow motion, it crumbled. In the end, all that was left of the building and secret basement lab was a soggy mass of rubble.