Killer of Killers (15 page)

Charles turned around to put the tray on an
adjacent table. He picked up the syringe and removed its plastic
cap. When he turned around again, Abraham’s coat was gone from his
back, and his shoulder bared of its sleeve. Charles punctured the
atrophied arm. Abraham’s eyes closed and then reopened with a
shiver across his brow.

After returning the expended syringe to its
place atop the linen, Charles lifted the platter and observed his
elderly mentor. “We’re ready to leave whenever you are, Abe.”

Abraham responded with a nod. “I’m almost
ready.”

Charles appreciated the fact that he was no
butler or servant, nor was he Abraham’s bodyguard. Charles was
Abraham’s most trusted administrator and second in command of their
business empire. He knew Abraham would have no one else inject his
body with the drug from his lab, and that’s exactly what he did
with every sunrise.

Charles pivoted to exit the sumptuous office.
After he walked to the doors at the far end of the room, he paused
to look at a framed picture hanging on the wall. It was an old
photo of himself clad in a basketball uniform holding a trophy of
champions. Standing next to him, a younger Abraham Soriah, in suit
and tie, shared the moment of glory. He smiled as he remembered
that day.

Once inside the adjacent room, Charles put
the tray on a countertop and cast the spent hypo into a designated
container. He slipped off his coat, rolled up a sleeve, and took a
fresh syringe from a small black case into his hand. The cases were
stacked neatly amongst many in the cabinetry of the room. He
uncovered the needle and pushed the point into his bicep. With his
eyes clamped, and his teeth clenched, Charles endured the rush for
several moments. Then he opened his eyes, relieved.

* * * *

Ever higher climbed the celestial orb,
lifting with it night’s shadow from the sprawling metropolis.
Inside her apartment high-rise, Susie Quinn, wearing her baby-doll
nightgown, peered into the mirror of her make-up stand. She looked
at the needle she held in her hand and sent its liquid contents
deep into her thigh. She closed her eyes and parted her lips to
take a slow and steady breath. A lengthy exhale followed.

Behind Susie, a nude Connie Perez was sitting
up on the bed with a lit cigarette in her hand. Susie produced
another syringe and plucked its plastic cap. Connie nodded. Susie
joined her on the bed and pushed the needle into her shoulder.
Connie scrunched her eyes tight and sucked the air through grinding
teeth. Susie smiled with anticipation. When the rush passed, and
Connie’s eyes reopened, their time together was at its best.

* * * *

Trent lay awake for several minutes. Samantha
slept soundly beside him, so he remained unmoving while mentally
calculating the means by which he would twice deliver justice in
the Twin Cities. Two men, one in Minneapolis and one in St. Paul,
would get their due. He figured once he killed the first, he’d be
sure to kill the second to preclude a return to the state.

But there was some kind of a lab,
and it
was in Minnesota
. Just as Trent pondered its connection to the
senator, he felt Samantha slowly moving to the edge of the bed.
With her feet on the carpet and her back to him, she reached for
her purse and set it on her lap. After a backward glance failed to
divulge that Trent was awake, she ferreted through its contents.
Out came the police gun. Next, she pulled out a thin black case and
clicked it open. Trent saw the tiny syringes packed like
cigarettes. She removed one, popped off the casing, and plunged the
needle into her thigh.

Trent seized her wrist and yanked it away
from her leg. Samantha gasped in astonishment as he snarled, “Is
there anyone who isn’t using this damn stuff?” He couldn’t keep his
voice from rising.
“Anyone?”

“I thought you were asleep.” She sounded
groggy and detached.

“I wake up easily,” Trent snapped. “Was I
next?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean were you going to stick me next?”

“No, I wasn’t. Do you want me to?”

“No, I don’t want you to. How do you even
know this stuff is real? How do you know it won’t make you sick?
How do you know?
”

“Because the FBI told me. That’s how I
know.”

“What did they tell you?”

“They told me it’s not toxic. Besides, Josh
has been using it for years now, and look at him. Does he look sick
to you?”

“You said federal agents are still analyzing
it.”

“They are,” Samantha said, now lucid and
clear-eyed. “They’re trying to evaluate the composition of the
serum. They’re still trying to figure out what’s in it and how it
works. But they do know the healing properties are real.”

“Well, I could have told you that.”

“What? How would you know?”

“Never mind.” Trent took a deep breath and
made a conscious effort to calm down. “How long have you been using
it?”

“Not so long.”

“Your friend, Manoukian... He’s on this
stuff, too, of course.”

“Manoukian, Soriah, and most everyone at
Eternity Labs.” Samantha paused for a few moments and then beamed
with enthusiasm. “Trent, come on, it stops aging! You can live
forever!”

It was clear to Trent she really believed.
Could it be true? He couldn’t bring himself to accept it. “You have
to stick yourself every day,” he argued. “I can’t buy that.
Intravenous injections? No way.”

“But it’s not intravenous,” Samantha
countered, her enthusiasm refusing to wane. “It’s administered
intramuscularly; otherwise, the blood level changes would be too
sharp.”

“I don’t care, a needle’s a needle,” a
seething Trent insisted, “and I never met one that
wasn’t
too sharp.”

To the rebuttal, Samantha didn’t respond, and
Trent regretted his volatile reaction. It was clear she preferred
he didn’t know she used the drug. But now that he did, it was also
clear she wanted him to be a part of it.

Samantha reached for his hand and said,
“Trent, didn’t you have a good time last night? Look at me.”

Trent looked. The morning sunlight, trickling
through the window, painted a classic chiaroscuro across her nude
figure, which was perfectly proportioned in every detail. Her
complexion was immaculate, and her long blond hair, thick and
vibrant, fell into place even after a night of vigorous
lovemaking.

“You are so beautiful. It’s undeniable,”
Trent professed. But he understood Samantha knew that already. What
she wanted him to realize was she could stay that way forever.

Then something dawned on him. Despite their
obvious racial differences, nearly everything else was identical
between Samantha and Susie. Their height, their figures, the tight
skinny waist, their full breasts and legs, everything could have
been cast from the same mold. He had to ask, “Is this the real you?
To what extent are the side effects? I don’t mean the pheromones. I
mean the desirable side effects, the physical ones?”

Samantha paused and then took a hold of
Trent’s hand. “It’s a transmuted steroid,” she said. “Men become
more muscular and more masculine. Women become more voluptuous and
more feminine.”

“So what would you look like if you stopped
taking this stuff?”

“Like when you met me.”

“Like when I met you?” Trent frowned. “When I
met you, you looked just like you do now.”

“You don’t see the difference?”

“Samantha, there is no difference. You are as
beautiful now as you were then.” Trent needed to make her believe,
so he added, “Look, it’s impossible for any woman to be more
beautiful, or become more beautiful than you already are. Or were.
Or... Well, it’s as simple as this, you don’t need drugs. That’s
what I’m trying to say.”

“But for how long?” Samantha asked. “How long
will I be beautiful? Ten years? Twenty years? Then I’ll get old,
withered, and gray. Thanks to Karl Manoukian, that doesn’t have to
happen.”

Hearing the name disgusted Trent. “Manoukian
and Soriah... As far as I’m concerned, they’re both the same.”

“Karl is nothing like Abraham Soriah. I admit
he’s creepy, but he would never willingly withhold the serum. He
just doesn’t have a choice right now. He has to remain a part of
the program; otherwise, he risks losing everything.”

“But it’s Soriah’s program.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me more about Soriah’s plan.”

“He wants to engineer a secret society of
super humans who will live forever. His immortal supermen will
watch the rest of the world age and die. He never intended to make
Eternity available to the public. He’s an evil man, Trent. He must
be stopped. Any time he can cut off our supply. Karl is completely
dependent on him.”

Trent wondered if they wanted Soriah out of
the way because he was an evil man or because at any time he could
cut off their supply. It also stuck in his mind that Soriah was
aware of Manoukian’s schemes. He asked, “Why does Soriah bother
keeping Manoukian around?”

“Because Karl is the perfect fall guy if
Soriah’s operation runs afoul of the law,” Samantha pertly
answered.

“Ha, a failsafe,” Trent responded, amused.
“That makes sense.” Being unfamiliar with the two-sided operation,
Trent could only speculate the old man’s bribes may actually have a
limit, but there must be more to it. “He has everything under
control. What’s he worried about?”

“Abraham Soriah owns the company and gives
the orders, but like I told you, the research center was originally
built by Karl Manoukian. Since Soriah took over, everything became
top secret. The old wolf probably thinks that whatever he’s hiding
can be pinned on Karl.”

“What makes you think he’s hiding
something?”

“Because Karl and Josh are both very
tight-lipped about what’s going on inside that laboratory. I can’t
even get them to take me there.”

“Can’t the FBI get you in?”

“That’s exactly what they’re planning. Zoning
laws require the facility to receive regular inspectors, and very
soon one of those inspectors will be me. By then, I’ll have a
contact already inside. Once I’m in, we’ll expose Soriah’s illicit
operation, and he’ll be finished.”

“But then you’ll lose your wonder drug,
no?”

“No,” Samantha stressed. “Karl will assume
responsibility, and he knows how to keep production safe and
legal.”

Trent narrowed his eyes with skepticism.
“Really.”

“Yes, really.”

Trent considered the big picture. Regardless
of the allegations against Soriah, if Manoukian succeeded in
killing him, what he would gain is control of the wonder drug and a
multi-billion dollar business. Soriah, on the other hand, didn’t
seem concerned about Manoukian’s conspiracies. “This is all very
interesting,” he admitted.

Another pause ensued, during which Samantha
leaned forward and again brought her face to within an inch of
Trent’s. He couldn’t help the entrapment. It was her eyes. They
sparkled more so now than ever before. “So will you see Karl,” she
implored, “just to talk, just to hear what he has to say?”

Trent gazed at the blond goddess and raised
his hand to caress her face. She responded by closing her eyes as
if relishing his lethal fingers applied so gently to her cheek.
Finally, he answered, “I will meet with your Karl. I will listen to
what he has to say, but I’m telling you now, I work for no one, and
that won’t ever change.”

Samantha appeared satisfied to hear as much.
“Thank you,” she said with a grateful embrace. She rested her head
on his shoulder. “That’s all I ask.”

“Well, not so quick,” Trent added. “I have
another appointment to keep first. Tell Manoukian I’ll see him. But
not until next week.”

Chapter Eight

All Along the Watchtower

A long, winding country
road was the only route to the research laboratory housing the
greatest discovery in the history of mankind. Some may argue that
nuclear power would warrant that distinction. Others would make a
case for the power of flight. It was Abraham Soriah’s opinion that
the world’s ultimate breakthrough took place right here in the
heart of Minnesotan outback.

His big-wheeled limousine, preceded by a
Mercedes G500, bounced and splashed through muddy puddles with yet
another Mercedes in its wake. Hidden cameras scanned the partially
paved and pitted path while each bump on every turn reminded
Abraham of renovation long delayed.

The twisting trail straightened into a
clearing upon which a glass-encompassed watchtower came into view.
An electrified wire mesh fence protruded from both sides of the
tower. Twelve feet high and topped in swirls of barbed wire, the
fence surrounded an expansive community of research buildings,
which totaled five wings connected at the center like spokes of a
wagon wheel. Each oblong section was the length of a football
field, but one stretched longer than the rest. At their
extremities, the wings were T-shaped. It was the hub that granted
entrance through a glass-walled lobby, and past the lobby was the
spacious master lab.

The procession stopped at the watchtower
where a security guard poked his head through an opened first floor
window. Reaching out a blue-sleeved arm, he received a magnetic
card from the convoy’s lead driver and slid it through a slot in
the security board. Activated electronically, the sliding gate
cleared the road. Without speaking, the security guard returned the
card and onward filed the motorized cavalcade.

* * * *

Within the master lab, Dr. Jason Benson pored
over the mathematical equations and chemical formulas displayed on
his computer screen. Shaggy blond hair, wire-rimmed spectacles, and
a light build produced the stereotypical characteristics that Jason
regretted as far back as he could remember. But those sentiments
were behind him. His scientific breakthroughs would prove to be
historic, and for that reason it was his work on which he focused
the last three years. In his company, two Chinese scientists worked
with equal diligence.