Текст книги "The Cure"

Автор книги: Douglas E. Richards

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There was another long silence on the line.

“You’re out of your mind,” said Erin.

“It’s the only way. It has to be done empirically.”

“Sure. And I go to jail.”

“No one will ever know. I’ll give you the therapeutic cocktail, and separately, the eight genes whose precise modulation is critical, at a wide variety of expression levels. You just have to add them to the mix in every possible combination until you find the one that works. It won’t be easy, since we can be all but certain the delicate balance of these genes that does the trick in mice won’t be the same balance needed in man. It took me hundreds of experiments, and it might take you the same. But when you’ve found the right combination, you’ll see a complete reversal of the condition. The brains of your psychopathic subjects will read as normals. Their amygdalas will light up when given emotionally charged words. And as I mentioned, these abnormal genes would not only be replaced, but expressed correctly. So their brain structures will revert to normal—they will be normal—at the level of their DNA. Right down to their sperm and ova. And your MRI data will be there to document the entire thing.”

“That’s how it’s supposed to work. But if there is one perfect combination of gene expression levels, I’m guessing there’s at least one imperfect combination. A combination that is lethal. How many mice did you kill along the way?”

“Surprisingly few,” said Raborn. “The vast majority of the wrong combinations do nothing. And as I’ve said, the therapeutic window with mice is very tight. It should be wider in man. So there is even less chance of hitting a lethal combination.”

“But you have no idea really. Less chance doesn’t mean no chance.”

Erin heard a sigh at the other end of the phone. “No. There are never guarantees when testing experimental medicines. Test subjects have lost their lives in the name of clinical research and will do so again. It’s unfortunate that this has happened. But that’s the nature of drug development. It’s a risk we have to take if we ever want to bring important new drugs to the world.”

“This is true, but in FDA-sanctioned trials, these patients give their informed consent. The benefits and risks are carefully explained to them before they sign on. They know there is a chance things could go wrong, but they are volunteers. Going in with their eyes open.”

“Look, Erin, you know that even if the FDA would allow a trial, psychopaths would never volunteer. They’re all convinced there isn’t anything wrong with them—it’s the rest of us who have the problem.” He took a deep breath. “Erin, you’re working with violent offenders, most of them repeat offenders. And when they get out they’ll do it again. You know they will. They have no conscience, no soul. If a few of them don’t survive our trial, this will be a tragedy. But nothing like the tragedies they’ve already caused in countless lives. And will again.”

“I won’t do it,” said Erin emphatically. “There is nothing you can say that will get me to change my mind about this. Period. I agree with what you say. And I have a history with a psychopath myself. I decided early on to study this condition, but not at the cost of my own soul. I vowed not to ever let this work erode my own moral standards.”

Just after she had decided on the course her life would take, Erin had stumbled across a famous quote from Friedrich Nietzsche: a warning. Battle not with monsters lest you become a monster, he had written. And if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes into you. She had taken this admonition to heart, determined not to let her work with monsters turn her into one herself.

“I’m not asking you to lower your moral standards. Just to reconsider them. I’m asking you to look at the big picture. Think of how many lives you’d be saving if you could wipe this scourge from the face of the earth. I’m not suggesting you kill psychopaths to get rid of them. All I’m asking is to cure them. Turn them into humans. Give them back a soul. You’d be doing them the ultimate service.”

Raborn paused for just a moment to let his points sink in and then pressed forward. “And think about the thousands and millions of victims around the globe you’d be saving. Not just the victims of violent crimes, but of swindles, and heartbreak, and manipulation. Now and for all future generations. If you knew the death of a few of these remorseless killers you study in prison would save tens of thousands of lives, tens of thousands of rape victims—often children—wouldn’t this be worth it? And again, not just for this generation, but for all eternity. The total decrease in human pain and suffering would be monumental. Incalculable. And I’m not even saying any of your subjects will die, because I don’t think they will. But if I’m wrong, and a few did end up dying, are you saying they wouldn’t have died for a noble cause?”

“I won’t do it,” said Erin.

But she said it with far less conviction this time. And she made no move to end the conversation.

8

ERIN PARKED THE Ford rental car in the large parking lot shared by Asclepius Pharmaceuticals and several other biotech companies in the industrial park. The sky was a vibrant blue, and exotic, tropical vegetation could be seen everywhere a visitor looked. Streams and small fake waterfalls wound their way along the common grounds of the biotech park, and the modern buildings were all four stories tall and made of blue-tinted glass, only the engraved marble obelisks in front of each differentiating one from another.

Here goes nothing, thought Erin nervously. Would Raborn be in? How would he react to her surprise? And where would she be spending the night?

She tried to convince herself that it was fun not knowing. Her life had become too programmed, she decided.

During her last conversation with Raborn, he had made no mention of travel, so she had high hopes that he would be in. If not, maybe she’d treat herself to the zoo or SeaWorld before she met Courtney for dinner. One way or another, she was determined to have a fun, relaxing vacation, and stay well clear of any of the local prisons. In fact, as far as she was concerned, she was done with prisons forever.

She eyed Asclepius’s lobby for a moment, but decided against this route. In for a penny, in for a pound. No use coming this far only to spoil the surprise by having a receptionist let Raborn know she was here. Sure, it was awkward to meet in the flesh after two years of a great Skype relationship. But Courtney had insisted that once Raborn saw Erin in spectacular 3-D, he would never be satisfied with Skype again. Especially if she was able to seduce him.

Raborn’s office was inside Asclepius’s vivarium, located within a nondescript building not officially affiliated with the biotech park, a few blocks away from their main offices, unlabeled so as not to attract attention from animal rights activists. She approached the entrance, a glass double-door, and pulled. She wasn’t entirely surprised to find it locked, especially since there was a key-card scanner affixed to the wall nearby.

She peered inside. As expected, she couldn’t see any animals, but she did spot a young technician in a white lab coat walking purposefully toward a door leading deeper inside the facility. But he was walking away from her.

She quickly rapped on the glass. A few seconds later, the tech changed directions and opened the door halfway, his body blocking the entrance. “Can I help you?” he said.

Erin smiled. “Yes. I’m an old friend of Dr. Raborn. In from out of town. But I was hoping to surprise him.”

The tech eyed her up and down, but didn’t find anything suspicious about her. She was wearing light cotton pants and a blue blouse, fairly form-fitting. The outfit was tasteful, but left little room for hidden weapons, cans of paint, or other items a militant animal rights activist might bring. And her beauty was disarming. If she was an activist, the tech decided he might consider joining the movement himself. “Old friend, huh? You don’t look old enough to be anyone’s old friend,” he said flirtatiously.

She threw him a thousand-watt smile. “Okay, you caught me,” she said. “I’m actually a young … ish … friend of Dr. Raborn. He told me his office was at the back of your vivarium. Is he in today?”

The tech threw the door open and stepped to the side. “You’re in luck. I just saw him in his office fifteen minutes ago. Do you want me to take you to him?”

“That would be great,” said Erin.

The vivarium was an expansive stainless-steel complex. A high-throughput, fully computerized animal-processing plant. It was designed to facilitate animal experimentation and it performed its function flawlessly. Erin had never been in one, but she knew all about them. Animals were routinely sacrificed for the sake of science across the world, in immunology classes in undergraduate and graduate school, and for experimentation of every kind.

Pharmaceutical companies were typically filled with well-meaning animal lovers who had no choice but to develop a clinical callousness toward the many animals that were sacrificed. The FDA required that experimental drugs be tested in animals, and even required companies to administer higher and higher doses of their drugs until exactly half of the animals tested were killed—a dose called the Lethal Dose 50, or LD50—before allowing a drug to be tested in humans.

“Would you like me to tell you about the facility while we walk?” asked the young lab tech.

Erin realized she had been openly gawking. “That obvious I’m a tourist?”

“Pretty much,” said the tech. “But that’s okay. We’ve all given plenty of tours to friends and relatives.” He began walking and turned back toward Erin. “So we house seven different species here: rats, mice, rabbits, guinea pigs, gerbils, hamsters, and Yucatan mini-pigs.”

“Yucatan mini-pigs?”

“Yeah. They’re about eighty pounds and they look like fangless wild boars. So don’t be thinking of the adorable little pink ones that you see in children’s zoos.”

“Got ya,” said Erin.

“Animals are delivered, put in cages with barcodes, and placed in separate rooms by species. Water is purified and piped into each cage automatically—computer controlled. Humidity, temperature, air quality, and lighting in each room are carefully monitored as well.”

“Right. Making sure you eliminate all extraneous variables from your experiments.”

“Exactly.” He waved his arm toward a doorway. “Those are the surgical suites. I won’t take you in, but they’re pretty much what a human surgical suite would look like. We go beyond government mandates when it comes to anesthesia and are as humane as we can possibly be.”

She nodded grimly. Billions of chickens and other food animals were killed each year, maybe even each week for all Erin knew, but for some reason a vivarium run by a pharmaceutical company just seemed more like a horror chamber. She wasn’t sure why.

What was truly remarkable was her mind’s ability to partition itself. To create a nearly impenetrable barrier to block out, not just the memory of the night she lost her family, but the emotional content of these memories as well. She was now in a facility that did experimentation on animals, which might be expected to trigger her memory of a mutilated puppy. And it did. But only for an instant, before another part of her mind was able to clamp down on this and push it away. After years of nightmares and debilitating fear and mistrust of others as a child living with her aunt and uncle, of waking in the middle of the night screaming, drenched in sweat, her mind had, mercifully, made an adjustment that had allowed her to live a normal life—free of her demons.

For the most part.

“Carcasses are taken out through the unsterilized side of the building,” continued the lab technician, “bagged, and thrown into large freezer units. We have an outside service remove the ones we make radioactive during the experiments.”

“Where do they take them?”

The tech tilted his head in thought. “Good question,” he said. “I really don’t know. Wouldn’t you rather ask where the nonradioactive ones go?” he added with a smile.

“You read my mind,” said Erin, returning the smile. “Where do the nonradioactive carcasses go?”

“I’m glad you asked. These are donated to the San Diego Zoo and put on the menu for the carnivores there.”

Erin raised her eyebrows. “I guess if their polar bears start glowing in the dark, you know you’ve mixed up the carcasses.”

The tech laughed and continued walking. As they approached a long black lab table, made of a substance that was smooth and seemed as hard as concrete, the tech said, “You may find this a bit … grisly.”

A row of glass cylinders were aligned on one of the black benches, one every two feet. Attached to each apparatus was a single pink, throbbing, disembodied reddish-pink mass, about the size of a small pebble, continuously being bathed in a solution, half of which contained experimental drugs. Each fleshy mass, which could only be a heart, continued beating rhythmically as though unaware it was now without an owner. A thin wire led from each heart to a computer monitor that recorded the frequency and force of each contraction.

“Rat hearts,” said the tech.

The hearts beat with inhuman speed. Thump thump! Thump thump! Thump thump! Erin’s lips curled up in disgust. Grisly was an understatement, she thought. “So rat hearts will keep beating, even without the rat,” she mused. “Who knew?”

The tech took a quick detour into a doorway where a female lab technician in a long white lab coat held a rat by its tail. She set it down and deftly placed a two-pronged metal probe, which resembled a small tuning fork, quickly into the rat’s beady red eyes, while simultaneously pressing a button that delivered a powerful jolt of electricity directly into them. The rat went into a convulsion and she carefully recorded the duration of this in a lab notebook that was open on the table.

“Ah … I think I’ve seen enough,” said Erin. She was able to seal off her traumatic memories, but there was no need to push it. “Not that I don’t appreciate the tour. This was really interesting, in a torture-chamber-straight-out-of-a-horror-film sort of way. But I should be surprising Dr. Raborn while the surprising is good.”

The tech nodded. “You got it.” He led her another thirty yards, took a left, and stopped in front of an office. The outside had a placard that read Dr. Hugh Raborn, M.D./Ph.D., Vice President, Neuroscience.

Erin’s pulse raced. The moment of truth had arrived.

Raborn’s door was open and he was busily typing into his computer as they approached. Erin stood at the door, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach and hoping her face wasn’t flush from the excitement she was feeling.

“Dr. Raborn, an old friend of yours is here to see you,” said the lab tech, gesturing toward Erin standing slightly behind him.

Raborn looked up from his computer and his eyes fell upon Erin. He looked her up and down for several seconds, his face expressionless. Finally, he turned back to the technician. “Troy, if this is some kind of joke, I’m afraid I’m missing the punch line.”

Erin’s jaw dropped open at the sound of his voice. For just a moment she was unable even to speak.

“She said she was an old friend of yours and wanted to surprise you,” said the technician, inching away from Erin and now studying her suspiciously.

Raborn shook his head. “I’ve never seen this woman before in my life,” he insisted.

9

ERIN FELT DIZZY and could barely breathe. This was certainly the face she had seen on her computer monitor for years, there could be no doubt about it. Same name, same credentials, same company.

But it wasn’t the same man.

She could hear the difference in his voice immediately. The man she knew so well was more of a tenor, whereas this one had more bass. The other spoke perfect English, but there was a hint of an accent that she had never been able to really define—although since he had been born and raised in the U.S. it must have been a regional accent that he was trying to change or conceal. The man in front of her spoke with no accent whatsoever.

What was going on?

What kind of game was he playing?

It was totally impossible for him not to be the man she had worked with for two years. Not only was he Hugh Raborn in appearance, but his title and company were those of the man she knew. People could put on different voices if they wanted. Celebrity impersonators could sound exactly like just about anyone.

But if he was just acting, just screwing with her mind for some reason, he would still have betrayed at least a hint of recognition during the first instant he had seen her outside of his office. And he had not. No one could fake their reaction to a complete surprise that well. No one.

On the other hand, this had to be him. No other explanation was possible.

So should she challenge him? Make a scene and insist he use his real voice? Her instincts told her not to. She needed to have time to think things through.

All of this analysis flashed across her mind in seconds. “My mistake,” she croaked. “I guess the surprise is on me. I feel like an idiot. The friend I wanted to surprise is also named Hugh Raborn, and also lives in San Diego. But it just goes to show, you shouldn’t Google people and try to surprise them without checking first.”

Both Raborn and the tech named Troy eyed her as though she were a terrorist with a bomb strapped to her chest. Raborn looked as if he was deciding if he should call the police.

“Sorry about this,” continued Erin. She immediately turned to the lab tech. “Troy, if you could lead me out of here, I’ll get out of your hair right away and find the right person.”

Raborn’s eyes narrowed. “She didn’t take any pictures, did she?” he asked Troy.

The lab technician shook his head. “None.”

“Did she have her cell phone out at any time? She could have snapped off a bunch without you realizing.”

“No. She never had it out.”

Raborn caught Erin’s eye and sighed. “Look,” he said, “I know you’ll never understand this, but we try to be as humane as we can be. Testing in animals leads to drugs that save millions of human lives throughout the world. Most of us are animal lovers. Really. I have two dogs at home that I love like children. But we don’t have any choice. We’re required to test our drugs in animals before we test them in humans.”

Erin winced. “I’m really not here about animal rights,” she said. “And I don’t mean you any harm. I just made an innocent mistake. You can both escort me out of here if you’d like.” She frowned deeply. “I’m just as eager to leave as you are to see me go.”

10

ERIN PULLED OFF the road into a mini-mall and parked so she could take stock of what had just happened. Her mind was reeling.

She was faced with two impossible conclusions. Either Raborn had an identical twin, a doppelgänger—who just happened to share his name, title, and company—or he was playing some kind of sick game. She still didn’t believe he could have faked his initial reaction to her so completely. So maybe he had known she was coming. As unlikely as this was, it seemed to make more sense than the alternatives.

She was engaged in illegal activity for him, after all. Maybe he had decided to pretend not to know her. So if she were caught, he could deny everything. He hadn’t seemed the type. But the more she thought about it, the more she couldn’t think of any other explanation that could possibly fit the facts.

Her hands balled into fists of their own volition. So if she called him in private, would he suddenly admit that he knew her, and make up some excuse for his charade? Would he apologize profusely?

You’d think he could have given her some indication. A wink. Anything. He could have told Troy he wanted to personally escort her from the premises, and then while alone with her whispered that he wanted to keep their relationship clandestine for reasons he would explain later.

Or had she been working with someone who had multiple personality disorder? That would be ironic, she thought. Maybe one of his personalities was psychopathic, and the other was a crusader against psychopathy.

She removed her phone from her pocket and took a deep breath. She hit the speed dial to Raborn’s private cell phone. This ought to be interesting. She was furious, and if he thought she’d be forgiving him in this lifetime, he was seriously deluded.

So much for romance, she thought bitterly.

The phone was answered on the third ring. “Hi, Erin,” said an enthusiastic voice. “How are things?”

The voice at the other end was one she knew well, not the one she had just heard at Asclepius. “Don’t give me that shit!” she spat. “What kind of game are you playing here, Hugh? If you didn’t want to admit you knew me, you could have at least winked or something.”

“What are you talking about?” said Raborn.

“What I’m talking about is you pretending not to know me when I visited your office, you shithead. What I’m talking about is you putting on another voice all this time we’ve been Skyping. What, do you use a different voice for each of your accomplices?”

“You visited Asclepius?” said Raborn in alarm.

Erin shook her head in confusion. She wanted to reach through the phone and choke him to death, tell him that of course he knew she had visited Asclepius, but there was something in his tone that compelled her to take his question seriously. “Yes. I wanted to surprise you.”

“Uh-oh,” said Raborn. “That couldn’t have gone well.”

“You were there. You know exactly how it went.”

“I wasn’t there. You must have spoken to the real Dr. Hugh Raborn. Who had no clue who you were.” He paused. “I’m sure you’re pissed off beyond words right now. And I don’t blame you.”

“So why don’t you explain what the hell is going on.”

“Well, obviously I’m not Dr. Raborn. I lied to you. But I had good reason,” he hastened to add.

“Let me guess. You’re his identical twin—but with a different voice.”

“No. No relation. I just needed credibility when I contacted you the first time. And I knew you’d check my background. So I took his identity. When we video chat, I have software that turns my face into his for transmission.”

Erin shook her head adamantly. “Impossible,” she said. “No technology is that good. Your lips and expression match your words perfectly. If there was software out there that could instantly transform your every last expression and lip movement onto a template face, and do it so seamlessly that it could fool someone over dozens of calls, I’d know about it.”

“I’ll explain everything,” said the voice at the other end of the line. “Really.”

“What should I even call you?” she said angrily, her rage intensified even further by the extreme hurt she was feeling. She had been betrayed by someone she had come to think of as a friend and scientific colleague. A man for whom she had made a pact with the devil to assist.

“You could just stick with Raborn, if you want. After two years, using a different name for me might not be ideal.”

“Not ideal?” spat Erin. “Continuing to use the name of someone you’ve been impersonating, someone you’re not, isn’t exactly what I’d call ideal either. So what’s your name? Your real name this time.”

“Drake.”

“Is that a first or last name?” said Erin.

“Both,” he said, and then before they could discuss it further he added, “Look, Erin, I don’t blame you for being furious. But I know you’ll understand once I explain things. But before we go any further, tell me why you came to visit unannounced.”

“Are you suggesting this is my fault? Because I attempted a surprise? Look, I don’t have to explain my actions. You have to explain yours.”

“I’m not blaming you in any way,” he replied quickly. “This is entirely my fault. One hundred percent. I deceived you and I’ll explain why to your satisfaction. But before we go further, I’d like to know. A surprise visit to San Diego isn’t at all like you. So I have a guess as to what it might be.”

She considered her response for several seconds and then said, “Your guess is right. I found it. I found the combination that reverses psychopathy.”

“Outstanding!” he whispered exultingly. “Unbelievable! I thought it would take another year at least.”

“So did I,” she admitted. And then, as if testing it on for size added, “Drake.”

She had gotten lucky. She had won the lottery. There was no guarantee her efforts would ever succeed, since mice and men were not the same, after all. And even if a cure existed, it could easily have taken her years more to find. And there could have been more fatalities than just three, although given the suspicion that these were beginning to arouse, if one more fatality had occurred she would have had to pull up stakes immediately, with or without a cure.

“I found it about a month ago. I didn’t want to tell you until I’d confirmed it in a large number of inmates.”

“And it worked on all of them?” said Raborn/Drake excitedly. “Total reversal in each case?”

“Yes. Within a few days of administration. On over fifty subjects. Not just the physiology, but the brain patterns in response to emotionally charged words. Everything. We have the absolute cure for psychopathy.”

“Incredible.”

Erin nodded. In the grand scheme of things, this made the parting of the Red Sea seem like a cheap parlor trick.

“Congratulations, Erin. I know you took all the risk, and the heat. I’m forever in your debt.” He paused. “So what was the winning dose combination?”

“That’s one of the things I was coming here to tell you. But now I don’t know which end is up. I’d be an idiot to trust you with this after you’ve just admitted to a grand deception, starting the first second we ever spoke. I was prepared to tell Raborn. Not Drake,” she added pointedly.

“Whoever I am, I’m still the one who made this possible. This is the culmination of considerable time and financial resources on my part. You have to tell me. Right now.” There was suddenly a menacing edge to his voice.

“I don’t have to do anything. And I won’t. Not until I understand what’s going on here.”

A heavy sigh came over the phone. “You’re right,” he said. “Sorry. I’ve got some trust to earn back. Okay, keep the combination secret. That’s fine. But once I’ve explained why I’ve done what I’ve done, you’ll understand. Then you can give me the secret and we can cure this condition once and for all.”

“Are you even in San Diego … Drake?” she asked, purposely using this name more often than she normally would to begin to train her mind to a new reality.

There was a pause. “No. I live in Arizona, believe it or not. Near Yuma. Why don’t we plan to meet tomorrow afternoon at the University of Arizona Student Union. On your home turf. In front of the bookstore entrance. I’ll tell you everything. Say one thirty?”

Erin had the almost irresistible urge to agree, but as desperate as she was to get to the bottom of his deception, she couldn’t do that to Courtney. She wouldn’t do that to Courtney. Especially since her friend had called in favors to take the day off to be with her.

“I have business here in San Diego,” said Erin. “We’ll have to make it Wednesday at one thirty.”

“What business could possibly be more important…”

Drake stopped abruptly, and Erin could imagine him almost literally biting his tongue. He had spoken with a fanatic intensity she had never heard in his voice before.

“Okay,” croaked Drake, as though making a studied effort to speak calmly, but forgetting his teeth were clenched. “Wednesday at one thirty it is.”

“It occurs to me … Drake,” said Erin, “that I don’t even know what you look like.”

“I’ll send photos to your phone before our meeting,” he said. “I look forward to seeing you at the bookstore. Lunch is on me.”

“You’re damn right it is,” said Erin. “And this had better be good.”

“It will be,” he assured her. “Trust me.”

She ended the connection. Trust was the last thing she intended to give the man who had been impersonating Hugh Raborn. He had betrayed her for two years, and she had no idea what was really going on. She intended to take paranoia to ridiculous levels.

And he must have known she now had far less trust in him than she would have for a total stranger, which was why he knew to suggest a meeting place that was crowded and out in the open. Even so, even given her expertise at hand-to-hand combat, she intended to be prepared for this meeting, and take nothing for granted.

Something stunk so bad in Yuma that she could smell it in San Diego. She would go into this meeting with Raborn … with Drake … with her eyes open. And her concealed carry loaded.