Escape from Baghdad! (29 page)

“And him?” Ali Mazra pointed the cleaver at Hoffman. “Who is this rat?”

“CIA,” Sabeen said. “Dr. Sawad was an important man. This project is of international importance. We can take care of everything if you let us.”

“The doctor…”

“He's really dead,” Sabeen said. She removed the autopsy picture gently from her case. “There is nothing else.”

Ali Mazra stared at the picture and as acceptance finally clouded his eyes, the weariness of the past weeks caught up with him, and he sat abruptly against the cardboard boxes. This was a man who had survived purely on adrenaline and hope, and now it crashed away, leaving him broken.

“We are going to airlift you and the patient both to America,” Hoffman chimed in. “Straight to Washington DC. Get you into the program.”

“Patients,” Ali Mazra said. He waved to the dark interior. “You think Taha was the only one?”

28: THE STRANGE ISLAND OF DR. SAWAD

T
HE STENCH OF ROTTING FLESH AND MORGUE CHEMICALS HIT
Hoffman, an olfactory assault coiled around the room like a serpent. There was, cutting through it all, the sharp edge of chlorine, strong enough to make his eyes water and his nose tingle. Behruse, of a frail constitution, went so far as to gag discreetly in the corner. For a fat man, he had a surprisingly weak stomach.

Mazra was limping through in the dark, his torch light wavering. “They don't like the light,” he said in passing. Hoffman dreaded to think whom he was referring to. The chamber ran through the breadth of the apartment and was furnished with four large laboratory tables, each one scarred with beakers, Petri dishes, varieties of chemical stocks, and reams and reams of papers.

This, the inner sanctum of Doctor Sawad and Mazra, revealed an unruly side to the great man. Everything was in chaos. No thought had been given to tidiness. Books, journals, references lay haphazardly wherever they had been last used. Blackboards along the wall were covered in scientific shorthand, some of it chemistry, some of it Arabic, some of it unique to Sawad.

There was an abandoned fish tank in one place, with the fish and water out, replaced by stacks and stacks of dirty Petri dishes and test tubes. Another bin was full of used syringes, like a graveyard for heroin addicts.

As his eyes got accustomed to the dark fugue, Hoffman saw that one-third of the room was closed off by a curtain, a great green dirty thing, half dragged on the floor, and splotched with dull red stains.
Beyond this, lay three cots, hospital issue, no doubt stolen from the Al-Rashid, with makeshift shackles welded on.

Two of these were side by side, occupied by a man and woman. They were hooked up to life support machines. In the vague green light, Hoffman could see tumors on their faces. They were skeletally thin and ill cared for. Their diapers stank, and they were covered in bed sores. Multiple drips fed into their veins. He could judge that they were not far from death. The shackles were undone, for in truth they were no threat to anyone. The third cot, ominously, was empty, the sheets covered in dried blood and feces. Behind was a padlocked door with a small barred cutout. Hands extended out from here, raw with wounds, and an unintelligible moaning ensued.

“Dog Boy,” Mazra said, “too dangerous to let out without tranks.”

Mazra led them on into a corner of this section, where his own bed lay, a more comfortable version of the hospital cot, minus the shackles. He slumped into it, with unfeigned weariness.

“You poor man,” Sabeen said.

The Kurd glared at her. “Three weeks, all alone. Every day I thought the doctor would come. We are out of food, tranquilizers, almost everything. And the constant moaning. I haven't slept in days.”

“You'll be alright now,” Sabeen said. “We'll make a list of everything you need here and get it to you. You'll have help too, trusted men. Plus security.”

Dog Boy saw them through bars somehow or just saw the wavering light of Mazra's torch, because he started howling right then, shouting obscenities and pleas, begging for water, begging to be let out or put to sleep or killed.

“He's gone mad,” Mazra said. “Patient 3. I'm supposed to keep him under, but he uses up the tranks too fast.”

“These patients, are they from the Al-Rashid too?” Sabeen asked.

“No. At the Al-Rashid we only had Taha,” Mazra said. “We got these after.”

“What exactly happened with Taha?”

“The doctor was close to success with Taha,” Mazra said. “And then he became afraid of the Old Man. He had to hide all his research. Said there was someone after him to steal the research and kill all of us. He told me to find a safe place. I set up this apartment, and we moved all the equipment here bit by bit. We had a schedule, but the Al-Rashid got broken into, and we decided to move Taha then.”

“What happened after that?”

“It was stupid,” Mazra said. “Taha is almost immune to tranquilizers. We both knew that. The cell was a temporary structure. It wasn't strong enough. Taha broke out one day.”

Mazra lifted his sleeve. “He gave me this scar, nearly killed me. The doctor was enraged when he got back.”

“Where did you get these other patients from?”

“I got those two in the beginning. They used to live in this building. Quiet couple, no family. I drugged them and brought them here,” Mazra said. “We got Dog Boy later, after Taha left. But things weren't good without Taha. The doctor said we needed him to finish the work.”

“We will find Taha, don't worry,” Sabeen said. “The work will be finished. How far along exactly was the doctor?”

“He thought that with Taha's blood and the Old Man's papers, he could make these two work,” Mazra motioned at the hapless couple. “But they kept getting worse. It was my job to monitor them for improvement. I kept charts of everything, even the Dog Boy.” He motioned at a neat stack by the foot of his bed.

“Very good charts too,” Sabeen said. “You are as good as any nurse or lab tech, Ali Mazra.”

“The doctor taught me,” Mazra said. He sounded very pleased to be compared to a nurse.

“Where are his papers, Mazra?” Sabeen leaned forward. “Where is the research of the brilliant Dr. Sawad?”

“He told me to destroy his formulas,” Mazra said, “if he ever went missing for more than a week.”

“You destroyed all his work??”

“He memorized everything,” Mazra said. “He didn't need the papers.”

“But he's dead!”

“That's not something he anticipated.”

“Well what are we supposed to do now?”

“He didn't leave any orders for after this death.”

“What papers are left?”

“I didn't destroy his personal journals,” Mazra shrugged. “You can have those.”

29: THE JOURNALS OF DR. SAWAD

L
OG
1, D
AY
13. A
L
-R
ASHID
, B
ASEMENT
W
ING
. S
TUDIES ON
S
UBJECT
0, Afzal Taha, continuing at fast pace after initial breakthrough. OM help invaluable. Telomere mutation expected to be main cause of Taha rapid cellular healing and age. OM suggests to study telomerase levels present in Taha cells. This is the enzyme that extends telomeres in cells. High levels are most often found in cancer cells, which is one of the reasons cancer cells don't die. Performed tests by replacing cancer patient's blood sample with Taha's. Lab returned positive result. Must be careful to erase tracks. Might be necessary to bring in geneticist into study at some point. Dr. J, perhaps. I shall definitely get promoted for this work.

Log 3, Day 21, Al-Rashid, Basement Wing.
Telomerase present in large quantities but no cancer. Very unusual to find high levels of telomerase in healthy cells. Have written to the American genetics company Geron to gain preliminary technical information. OM seems to know a lot more than he is telling. It's just like him to obstruct medical progress.

Log 8, Day 23, Al-Rashid, Basement Wing.
Research at a complete halt. No working theories as to why S0 (Subject Zero) has high levels of telomerase in cells but no cancers. Consulting OM again. Threefold
situation likely: (a) Telomerase increased initially in host body by some unknown means, (b) hyper immune system developed to suppress cancers and prevent late onset mutations, and (c) telomerase levels kept stable to prevent cell death without continued input of telomerase-making enzymes.

Log 10, Day 28, Al-Rashid, Basement Wing.
Taha is highly resistant to disease, highly resistant to tissue damage, with faster than normal regeneration powers. Also confirmed reduction of senescence. Discussions with Dr. J. Might have to bring him in soon. Need blood. work confirmed 100% for research papers. Taha's immune system alone is remarkable. Nobel Prize possible. Could he just be a genetic freak of nature?

Log 11, Day 29, Al-Rashid, Basement Wing.
OM quashed research paper emphatically. Refuses to understand what a marvel Taha is. Has become unreasonably autocratic. OM having me watched, I think. Forbade me to speak to anyone, even consulting specialists. I cannot work in a vacuum anymore. This is high level genetics. I have demanded more explanations. Am certain OM knows everything. Asked my Mukhabarat supervisor discreetly. That bastard told me to follow OM's directions explicitly. What the hell are they interested in genetics for? Biological weapons perhaps?