10
At first, Martin Tyler considered to house Baker elsewhere rather than in his own house. He believed it better and safer to bring the Schizophrenic straight to the clinic. Not that he was afraid to be around a mentally ill person, but this man was something else, he was unpredictable. One minute he behaved like a rational human being and then suddenly he flipped.
If the things were true he‘d read in Baker’s files, the man was dangerous. Baker regularly needed to be escorted by three or four staff members to the isolation cell in St. Joseph’s.
Despite all the negative information in the files, Baker hadn’t caused any trouble during the journey to the US. He occasionally talked to an invisible person.
For long periods of time Baker stared at the seat in front of him, deep in thoughts, his eyes hollow and empty. However, he also answered several questions. Not all the answers were quite what Martin expected. Some of them were rather extraordinary and completely irrational. Making real conversation proved to be hard, even impossible at times. He had to pull most of the words out of the man.
Moving his chair back, Martin stood up. “I suppose we can leave him alone for a while,” he spoke without looking at the man sitting beside him. They’d both been watching Anthony through a one-way window. Martin shut the blinds.
“Do you suppose he’ll sleep much longer?” The man’s voice sounded dark, his blue eyes pierced through Martin. He rather got one of the other men to assist him to observe Baker.
“He’ll be all right; he was exhausted when we arrived,” Martin said.
“We can always give him some of the tranquillizers the psychiatrist gave you.” The other man smirked.
“Like I said, Victor, leave him alone. Go home if you want. I can handle things here on my own. He seems harmless. I don’t see why he should give me any trouble when he wakes up.” Martin looked at Victor, hoping he’ll leave sooner than later.
On the contrary, Victor wasn’t eager to go at all. He made this rather clear to Martin. He stretched himself and found another comfortable position in the armchair he’d been sitting in for the past few hours. Next, he took a silver box from his waistcoat to roll a cigarette. When he finished, he lit it, inhaled, and finally blew out a large puff of smoke.
“Ok, suit yourself,” Martin sighted trying not to sound too disappointed about Victor’s reaction. “If you don’t mind, I’m going for a walk, I need some fresh air.” He picked up the tranquillizers and dropped them into his trouser pocket.
Tyler had never agreed to recruit Victor Rogozihn. He had distrusted the man from the moment they’d met. Something about Rogozihn gave him the creeps. His cold blue eyes were like tiny coals sitting deep in their sockets, his red hair sleek, was greasy most of the time. Martin didn’t know much about Victor Rogozihn’s past. He wasn’t the kind of man to let other people close to him. He was a very private man. Martin was sure he concealed a dark secret.
Light shone through the curtains when Anthony Baker woke up. It took a while before he remembered where he was. Leaning on his elbows, he looked about the room. Yesterday evening, or was it this morning, he had been too tired to bother what his new room looked like. The room smelled fresh. Besides for a bed, there was a comfortable chair, a TV set and a small fridge. On a cabinet sat a tray with a teapot and a set of coffee cups and saucers. The wallpaper had a colourful motif.
He felt great and his head felt a lot less foggy. His medication had been reduced the morning he’d left the institution. However, it was still early days; it could take a long time before he was completely weaned off the anti-psychotics. He couldn’t just stop taking the tablets; even he knew that was too dangerous. He had been on them too long to do that. He was thankful he didn’t have to be completely drug-free before he received the new treatment at the clinic. He was on the verge of a completely new life.
Anthony noticed his hands were trembling like they used to do, although Dir. Greystone promised this tended to cease over time.
Nevertheless, he was thrilled with the chance the clinic was offering him. Tired of living like a shadow he was pleased with the luxury of the room. At St. Joseph’s, everything had been grey and lifeless. He had felt dead in there.
Sometimes he’d cut himself with a sharp item (if he was able to get hold of something); only just to see if he was still alive.
*
With the work in the lab ceased George Malthouse was having difficulties filling his days. He wished he was still married then he could at least annoy his wife. Being jobless was not the only thing which bothered him.
They were obliged to move the press conference to a nearby hotel. John and he decided no matter what happened the conference should go ahead.
When the police sealed off their lab, George had worried about the animals. Who’d look after them? They couldn’t be without food for too long. There were precious animals and, over time, he’d taken a special liking to the mice.
The first lot of mice had lived an extra seven weeks after they’d been injected with the Caryo.32 virus. Their cancerous bodies underwent a magnificent change during the first three weeks of the experiment. If the mice appeared without energy and lack of appetite before the injections, the animals were lively soon after the treatment. The minute he administered the virus, it launched a war against the cancer cells in the mice tiny bodies.
To his great delight, the mice regularly used the tube system, which he’d made himself. Even more important some of the mice produced healthy offspring. When big enough the little ones were separated from their mothers and monitored in another dwelling.
Malthouse recalled the first trial of the Caryo.32 virus; he’d never thought the results were going to be so important. Although the living conditions of the mice were superb and their cancer only in its beginning stages, the outcome had been beyond expectation.
“Mr. Kinsella, what is the name of the new medication?”
“When is the medication coming on the market?”
The questions sprouted one after the other. Television crews, local, national, and even international reporters were ready to bring the breaking news of the discovery of the miracle cure to the world.
None of the reporters at the press conference knew the new drug was currently under serious threat. The missing sample could either be launched on the world market by the criminals, or even worse, be used as a lethal weapon. The only way to stop this from happing was to bring Caryo.32 to the attention of the press.
“Our team is working day and night to bring the new drug on the market before the end of the summer.”
Kinsella quickly glanced at Malthouse. He knew it was impossible to have to new drug ready for the market in such a short period. In response, George gave a shoulder shrug, followed by a grimace. Photo cameras flashed in rapid succession, blinding the scientist.
Once the conference ended, Kinsella and Malthouse gathered their belongings. Relieved the reporters were gone, George remarked, “That was a stupid thing to say. Our team is working on it. You’re lucky you didn’t say which summer.” He sighted deeply, shaking his head, he walked to the exit.
“You better get a move on. This summer isn’t going to last forever.”
*
The hotel room was quiet; Anika Jansen could only hear the sound of the air-conditioning, it rotated constantly. She felt peaceful lying in bed. Things could have been worse, much worse.
Upon their arrival in LA, she and David Jacobs had crashed in the room in the early hours of the morning. Nothing or nobody could spoil the night David had given her. On top of it all, he’d promised to show her the city in the morning.
Anika studied the ceiling fan. She’d somehow slept through the noise, but now it began to annoy her. Getting up from the bed, Anika searched for a switch to turn it off. When she pushed the button, instead of turning the fan off, it started to rotate faster. Quickly, she turned it back to its original position. She looked at David, who still slept like a baby. How can he sleep with all that noise in the background?
She crawled back into bed and lay there with her eyes closed for a few minutes. She remembered the earplugs she bought at Schiphol. She got up again, this time she switched the light on. The brightness made her eyes squint. The earplugs were a god sent she couldn’t hear a thing anymore. Before long, she fell asleep again.
Several hours later she heard a sound in the distance. She realized it was from the alarm clock beside the bed. She turned the alarm off and took an earplug out of one of her ears. The other earplug was missing.
Again she got up this time she pushed the window open. She rested her hands on the windowsill. When she turned to face the bed, she checked if David was still fast asleep. She tiptoed through the room as she got dressed. In the meantime her stomach was making wild accusations at being ignored for too long. Eying the alarm clock again, Anika noticed it was five minutes past two. No wonder she felt hungry. For a moment, she contemplated whether to wake David and wait for him to join her in the dining room, but then she exited the room and let David be.
When the lift reached the ground floor, Anika hurried in the direction of the dining room. In her haste, she managed to run into one of the walls when she turned a corner. A few guests stared at her in astonishment.
David Jacobs held Anika’s hand ascending the steps of the Delphi Clinic. He was glad he’d given her a couple of days to explore the city before she went to the clinic and start the experiments.
She was going for an interview today. The actual operation was going to take place in a couple of days, depending on several factors. They entered the premises and proceeded in to a hall. A lift brought them to the consultation room.
They took their place in the waiting room. David got tea for the both of them from a vending machine he asked, “Are you nervous?”
“Not more than when I go to the dentist,” Anika‘s face registered a feeble smile.
Chewing on the corner of her mouth, she placed the tea in front of her on a table. A few magazines were laying on one of its corners. Am I doing the right thing? What if I don’t wake up from the operation? Questions filled her head, she felt sick. Why did I ever agree to sign the contract? No matter the outcome, either she or her family was about to receive $ 10,000, just for being a human guinea pig.
“Did you know men are already interfering since the 1940’s with the human brain?” David asked.
“Well, they are always doing research, so that doesn’t sound like it is something special,” Anika answered after she swallowed a speck of sour.
“I think you misunderstand me. I’m reading here that a Dir. Carl Sanders invented an intelligence manned interface biotic, which was injected into people.”
“What do you mean, because that is all abracadabra to me?” Anika asked.
“Let me read further,” David said.
Anika face turned seriously grey and the silence grew around them. David finally answered, “It’s a kind of Rambo chip which was used to mind control soldiers during the wars in Vietnam and Iraq. They were monitored via a big computer somewhere here in the US.”
“Why are you telling me this? Do you want to frighten me”? Anika asked. She moved restlessly in her chair. I need a toilet before it’s too late.
She sprang up and bolted off in the direction of the rest rooms. Before she reached the door, an overwhelming explosion containing tea and toast, erupted from her mouth. Bits of bread lay in a light brown pool. When she was finished vomiting she wiped her mouth with her sleeve.
David handed her a tissue.
“I don’t believe that they used chips in the 1940’s, the technology wasn’t that far yet,” Anika said like nothing had happened. The vomit lay behind them, a few steps from the toilets.
“They were more advanced than we thought. Brain electrodes were used during the second world war doing research on the behaviour of twins, homosexuals, the mentally ill and the like.”
“I like to know who those likes are. Yes I know terrible things went on back then,” Anika said.
“Hmm, anyway the first chips which were implanted were approximately one centimetre in diameter. The one you will get is only 5 micro millimetre. You must know that a hair is 50 micro millimetres.”
“I hope there is no wind the day I get my implant,” Anika joked.
“Yeah, it’s remarkable how far humans have developed. I’m proud to be part of your recovery.” David put an arm around Anika.