The Ghost Pattern

…29

Dr. Wu Shen Teng watched the screens with deep concern ridging his forehead. The source of his worries was different from what the other doctors shared. The others obsessed about the ethics of their actions. They debated, under the dire circumstances they were facing, whether they should take actions that led to drug experimentation on human subjects, or risk everyone’s lives by saying no. However, Dr. Teng was concerned with the ineffectiveness of the compound they were testing.

The others didn’t have their families with them; they could afford to be concerned with ethics, the Hippocratic Oath, and the core issues of preserving their humanity in the face of hardship. They could do that all they wanted, while their families were safe, somewhere in the United States, Germany, France, or wherever. His wife and child were locked in a dungeon, hopefully still breathing, and most likely scared out of their minds.

So far, they’d managed to persuade the Russians that the first test subjects were supposed to be men, for the drug tests to be relevant. Women would be useful later, Dr. Davis had said, when they were going to add a hormonal component to the drug mix. Some scientific mumbo-jumbo had made the case sound plausible, when in fact the doctors were trying to protect the women and children. That Dr. Davis could lie like a son of a bitch, not a blink in his eye.

Wu Shen Teng stared at the screens, troubled by what he was seeing. Mostly nothing was going on with the test subjects. Some of the men had gotten into an argument; some were shoving, and cursing took place, but no real violence. The two men who had taken the antidote sat quietly on the floor, leaning against the wall, a little spaced out. The rest paced the room impatiently, or mumbled oaths under their breaths.

How long would it take the Russians to figure out they were being played? How long before they started shooting people? How long before they’d kill his family, just to teach the doctors a lesson?

The doctors were pushing it too far. There should have been some significant effects. This lame result was ridiculous. This was dangerous. Stupid bleeding hearts were endangering everyone.

The lab door unlatched noisily, giving Wu Shen a start. Dr. Bogdanov walked in, followed by one of the fiercest looking Russian goons, a monster they had dubbed Death. Just like King Cobra, his nickname had originated from one of the man’s ink jobs. His entire back was tattooed with a twisted image depicting death holding a child in the same manner that Mary held baby Jesus in the well-known depictions of Madonna and child seen on church walls.

Death closed the lab door and remained watch in front of it, holding his machine gun with both his hands, ready to engage.

“This,” Dr. Bogdanov yelled without any preamble, pointing at the monitors, “this is ridiculous. This is der’mo, this is crap! This is not the drug you have promised me. This is not what I expected after a week of work!” Bogdanov spat on the floor angrily. “This is shit! Lame shit!”

The doctors stood flocked together, watching Bogdanov grow angrier with every word he spoke.

Wu Shen felt the grip of fear taking a fistful of his guts and twisting it. He could barely breathe. What was going to happen to them?

“Make no mistake,” Bogdanov continued. “If you don’t give me what I want, I will start again. With others, who can give me what I want. The way I brought you here, I will bring others, as soon as I’m done waiting for you to deliver and I kill you all. That’s an easy job.”

Bogdanov looked at them with a threatening glare, then said, “Be ready for another test batch tomorrow. And make sure it works next time.”

Then he turned and headed for the exit, as Death opened the massive door.

Wu Shen didn’t think much. He just reacted, his intestines still knotted with fear. He jumped ahead and caught up with Bogdanov, and grabbed his sleeve, just as Death shoved the barrel of a Kalashnikov in his chest.

“Can I please speak with you, sir?” Wu Shen asked humbly, keeping his head down and his spine bowed, in typical Chinese mannerism to show utmost respect and deference in front of a superior. “In private?”