Tarnished Image (36 page)

A prayer bubbled to his lips.

More hot water. Aldo washed his face again, then, after patting his face dry with a towel, he took a cotton ball, doused it with an astringent cleanser and rubbed it on his face. The sharp liquid burned as it touched his freshly shaven skin. He ignored it. He was lost in the labyrinth of his mind, of his plans, of the death he would soon cause.

Taking a woman’s thigh-high nylon, he twisted it until it formed a band. He studied the picture again, taking special note of the eyes. He then placed the soft nylon cord to his forehead and wrapped it around his head, stretching the material as he did. The tension had to be right. Too tight and he would cut off the circulation. A quick knot at the front of his head finished the job.

He studied his eyes which had taken an almond, cat-eye shape. He examined the picture again, then his reflection. He was satisfied.

Sleep remained an inch from David’s reach. It beckoned his weary and stressed mind. Still he could not let go of the uneasiness, guilt, apprehension, and confusion. Those emotions and scores like them swirled within David like tumble-weeds in a dust devil. Despite his prayers with Kristen and despite his private petitions, he still had no peace.

Something he had memorized many years ago rose to the front of his mind, like a cork emerging from the ocean depths. A psalm written by a man who had known the fear of attack, who understood betrayal, who had fathomed the depths of faithfulness—King David.

The words of the ancient song floated between his conscious mind and the nether world of his subconscious:

It was Psalm 27. David had memorized it as part of his classwork in seminary. Then it was drudgery; now it was life and hope.

Aldo moved faster now. Moisturizer was followed by flesh-tone concealer that he applied under his eyes to mask the darkened skin of age. Satin-beige foundation came next. He took special care to apply the thick fluid along his dark beard line to mask any remaining shadow. Next came the eyeliner pencil. During his practice sessions this had always been the most difficult step. He was unaccustomed to putting pointed objects near his eyes.

The transformation was working as planned. He applied powdery eye shadow to his eyelids and the area just below his eyebrows. The eyebrows were the only things that caused him concern. His dark hair might provide a noticeable contrast. He had planned to bleach them tomorrow, but now his schedule had been unexpectedly pushed up by that interfering college kid. The eyebrows were a risk he would just have to take.

After applying blush to his cheeks, Aldo took a red lip liner and carefully traced the edges of his lips. He then applied pink passion lipstick and gently blotted his lips on a tissue.

With the makeup skillfully applied, Aldo stepped to the closet, swung open the mirrored doors, and removed a Styrofoam head from the shelf above the clothes rack. A red wig rested on the head. Aldo removed the wig and placed it over his scalp. The hair felt soft as it brushed against his bare shoulders. There was still more to put on before the transformation was complete: press-on nails, the silk shell top, blue woman’s blazer, and black pleated pants, but even now the look was convincing.

Aldo’s lipsticked lips parted in a grin as he stared at his altered image. “Well, Kristen. It looks like you have a twin.”

“I’
M SO GLAD YOU COULD MAKE IT
.” A
BERDENE ROSE FROM
the stool on which she had been sitting and stepped away from the lab bench. “I know it’s late, and you’ve been working so hard.”

Archer felt uneasy. Something wasn’t right. Being summoned from the editing suite in the basement of the building to Aberdene’s private laboratory was ominous. “What’s up?” Archer asked with more bravado than he felt. Aberdene was being nice, which meant that she had something frightening up her sleeve.

“Did Jack tell you why I needed to see you?”

Archer shook his head and looked at the man standing by his side. His expression was grim. “No, just that you wanted me up here right away.”

“That’s good. I wanted to discuss this with you myself.” Aberdene’s eyes narrowed. “It seems that we have a problem.”

“Problem?” Archer’s heart began to pound fiercely.

“Oh, yes. Quite a problem. It seems that someone in our circle has decided to betray our operation. Any idea who that might be?”

He had been found out. But how? Archer swallowed hard. “No. No idea at all.”

“I’m told that Dr. O’Neal received a phone call tonight by
a young man named …,” she trailed off and looked questioningly at Jack.

“Greg Cheney,” Jack said filling in the blank.

“Yes, that’s it. Mr. Greg Cheney. “It seems that young Mr. Cheney is … was the industrious type.”

“Was?” Archer felt ill.

Aberdene ignored him. “Somehow he got hold of a copy of the videotape you made.”

Archer shrugged with a confidence that he did not feel. “The tape was broadcast on all the television stations. He could have made a copy. Nothing unusual about that.”

“That’s how I see it. But that’s not the real problem. You see, he was examining the tape. Running it through all sorts of tests. He found something.”

“Not possible,” Archer said defensively. “There’s nothing to find.”

“Oh, but there was. And not just one thing, but many things. We listened in on a phone conversation he had with O’Neal tonight. In fact, I have a copy of that conversation. Let me play part of it for you.” She walked over to a small cassette player and pushed the play button. The words were tinny but easily understood.

Archer listened as Greg told David of the hidden mosquitoes in the video and how it was his belief that someone was delivering a message. Nausea swept over Archer. He had been discovered.

“This causes us some concern,” Aberdene said easily, but there was a fire in her eyes and a hardness around her lips. “Why, Archer? After all I’ve done for you, why would you betray me?”

“Because what you’re doing is wrong,” Archer shouted. “I
can’t live with myself. I can’t go on knowing that innocent people are dying because of your experiments.”

“Those experiments will ultimately save lives,” Aberdene snapped back. “A few may die, but it will be worth it.”

“Worth it for you, maybe, but not to those people who die because of your supermosquito and virus.”

“Don’t you dare pretend to understand what I do!” Aberdene was shouting. “My research is important, significant, and beyond the understanding of a cretin like you! Do you know how long it takes to get a new drug on the market today? Do you? The red tape is enormous, the time lag cruel. People die every day for lack of medicines that have been demonstrated effective and safe but have yet to receive FDA approval. The drugs you take to keep your AIDS in check is unapproved. You’re alive today because I chose to give it to you anyway.”

“But your work in Belize is not curing anyone. It’s killing them with your special brand of dengue hemorrhagic fever. I don’t see how that helps anyone.”

“How dare you presume to second-guess me!” Aberdene’s face reddened. “DHF isn’t the point, you tiny little man. I genetically altered the virus and then genetically altered the mosquito that carries the virus. In doing so I have proved that insects can be used to vector human-altered viruses.”

“That way you can afflict entire populations with diseases that can only be cured by medications provided by Aberdene Pharmaceuticals. That’s one way to make a buck in this business.”

Aberdene laughed. “You’re not so dumb after all, Archer. But that’s just a side benefit. There are two other compelling reasons. One of which even you will approve.”

“I doubt it,” Archer snapped. The fear he felt was now
being supplanted by resignation. He knew he would not see the sun rise again.

“Think of the military applications, dear boy.” Aberdene began to pace. “Instead of dropping bombs and firing missiles, we can unleash a few million mosquitoes. Since they’re pesticide resistant and live longer, they can have quite an effect on a region.”

“You thought I would approve of that?”

“No, not that your approval is necessary. Come on, Archer, broaden your thinking. If I can genetically alter a virus to make it more virulent, why not alter a virus to make it weaker. That’s what a vaccine is. A weakened form of the disease. That’s how polio was defeated, except with polio and other diseases, the patient must come to the doctor. I plan to inoculate people against diseases by sending out mosquitoes that carry the altered virus. That begins the cycle. Mosquitoes then feed off their human hosts, obtain the new virus and then pass it on to other humans.”

“Won’t that put you out of business?”

“Not at all. There are plenty of diseases still left. And what nature doesn’t provide, I can. No, I’m not worried about going out of business. In fact, countries will beat a path to my door to pay me large sums of money. You could have been part of all that.”

“No thanks.” Archer said. “I doubt you planned to let me live anyway.”

Jack spoke up. “So you did plant clues in the video?”

“Of course I did, Jack. Don’t be so thickheaded.”

“I just wanted to hear it from your own mouth.”

With explosive speed, Jack brought a crashing blow to the side of Archer’s head. There was an explosion of pain and a
moment of darkness. When his senses returned, Archer was seated on the floor. The side of his head pulsed with pain, and his ears rang.

“That’s enough, Jack” Aberdene said. “You know how I hate violence.”

“I’m sorry. I have a problem with betrayal.”

“Your loyalty is commendable.”

“What should we do with him?”

“Make sure he doesn’t hurt us again,” Aberdene said.

Her words made Archer laugh. The laughter made his head hurt all the more. He closed his eyes.

Archer felt himself being lifted to his feet. He opened his eyes and found himself staring at a crimson-faced Jack.

“What’s so funny, little man?”

“You,” Archer said with a chortle. “It’s all over for you and the Mosquito Queen.”

“What do you mean?”

Archer laughed again. He passed the fear stage of dying and moved into insolence. “Go ahead and kill me, Jack. I’m a dead man anyway. I’ve been dying for years. Inch by inch, I’ve been leaving this life. At least I’ll die proud of one thing. I brought you down. Both of you.”

“He’s delirious,” Aberdene said. “You hit him too hard.”

“He had better shut up if he doesn’t want me to hit him again.”