“Anything?”
“Just name it,” he confirmed.
“Park your plane somewhere and let’s go to Tom’s. I need breakfast, and I need to think. You need to come with me,” she added, feeling embarrassed for manipulating him like that. “Just in case I have questions or I need resources, or something.”
“Done,” he replied, then turned toward the plane and signaled his pilot.
Minutes later, he was fast asleep in Alex’s car, as she drove on the Pacific Highway, heading north in the dawn’s brisk light.
…16
The massive door unlatched noisily, startling them.
One of the armed men walked in, his weapon hanging loosely, strapped on his shoulder. It was the one they called One-Eye. He still had both his eyes, but a long, purplish scar extended from his left ear to under his left eye, putting a deep ridge into his cheek, making them wonder how his eye survived that terrible knife wound.
One-Eye extended his hand, holding a small packet with insulin vials.
“Insulin,” he spoke harshly.
Dr. Gary Davis stepped forward, grabbing the box.
“Thank you,” Gary said, then opened the box. “Hey, this is just two days’ worth,” he said, showing the man the four vials.
One-Eye shrugged and replied dryly. “If you all behave, she’ll get more.” Then he turned and left, latching the door behind him.
He rushed to Dr. Crawford’s cot, while Dr. Adenauer brought a hypodermic and some alcohol on a piece of gauze. Dr. Crawford sat with difficulty on the side of her cot, preparing her insulin shot.
“Thank you,” she said, speaking weakly. “This will help.”
She shot the insulin into her thigh, then massaged the spot gently, while everyone kept their backs turned to give her some privacy.
“Thank you,” she repeated, “I’m done.”
They all huddled around her cot except the pilot, who remained crouched on the floor, not moving much or saying anything since they’d entered the makeshift lab. Lila, the flight attendant, kept as great a distance from the pilot as physically possible, quiet and grim, crying at times.
“Do you understand what they want us to do?” Dr. Crawford asked. “I was a little out of it and I couldn’t focus,” she explained apologetically.
They stood silent for a few seconds, looking at one another, various degrees of concern marring their expressions. It was as if the nightmare would become more real if one of them would put it into words.
“They want us to build a drug formulation,” Gary spoke, “a drug that will increase the violence drive in subjects in a controlled manner. Not too violent; just enough to cause damage, and controllable with an antidote. They also want the drug to be aerosolized, yet have precise, controllable response in subjects.”
“This is insane,” Dr. Mallory spoke. “I don’t even think that can be done. Not here, not like this. What they’re asking for requires years of work.”
“Don’t say that, please,” Dr. Teng spoke, his voice strangled by tears. “I–I have my family with me. My wife and my little girl… they have them. We can’t say no.”
“Indeed,” Dr. Adenauer spoke, arrogance seeping in his voice. “We all know we cannot say no to the malignant, sociopathic narcissist without taking considerable risk. We have to be judicious about our approach to this research.”
“Approach to research?” Gary snapped. “Are you seriously considering doing this? It’s against everything we have sworn to do as doctors.”
“What choice do we have?” Adenauer replied. “Compliance, in this case, is the logical, self-preserving thing to do.”
“But consider the consequences, for chrissake,” Gary insisted.
He felt Dr. Teng’s hand grabbing his sleeve. “Please,” the tiny man whispered, tears welling in his eyes.
“Ah, you are forgetting,” Dr. Adenauer replied, pedantic as if he were lecturing in front of young students, “I said research… I never said delivery of a drug formulation.”
“What do you mean?” Dr. Mallory asked.
Gary was starting to see Adenauer’s point. He was, indeed, brilliant, and, he had to admit, he stayed cool and rational better than most. Better than himself even.
“I mean we comply, we do the research,” Adenauer clarified with a parental tone, “but we will not be able to deliver results very soon,” he ended his phrase in a whisper. “We… stall. Isn’t that the right word in English?”
“It shouldn’t be too hard, considering how insanely absurd and complex this task will be,” Mallory added.
They nodded in agreement, and remained silent for a while.
“What are we hoping for, though?” Dr. Klaas Fortuin asked. “They’ll never let us go. If we are worthless to them, they will kill us all. There is no doubt about that.”
The harsh reality expressed so simplistically by the direct, almost blunt Dr. Fortuin hit hard. They bowed their heads and hunched their shoulders, desperation taking over.
“We don’t know that. We don’t know anything,” Gary said. “For now, let’s focus on immediate survival, right? Dr. Bukowsky, what would you say to a patient in this situation?”
“Exactly true, let’s focus on survival,” Howard Bukowsky confirmed. “Our situation has definitely improved,” he continued, trying to focus everyone on the very few positive aspects of their confinement. “We slept on cots last night, not on the floor, we have water, and we had warm food last night. Dr. Crawford has insulin for a while, and that demonstrates a very important point.”
“What?” Dr. Crawford asked.
“That we were able to negotiate with them. We asked for something and we got it. It’s important we keep that in mind,” Bukowsky concluded.
“Ah…” Gary said. “You’re right. Then let’s ask them to keep our lab rats healthy and well-fed, to ensure the tests will be relevant and successful.”
“You’re not saying… you’re not seriously considering testing on human subjects, are you?” Dr. Fortuin asked, barely containing his apprehension at the thought.
“No, of course not,” Gary replied. “But they expect us to use them as test subjects. If we ask for it that way, we can hope to negotiate better conditions for the rest of the passengers.”
“We might not have a choice, you know,” Dr. Adenauer said. “We might be forced to test on them. Who knows what they’ll do if we resist?”
“Then how do we prevent harm from coming their way?” Dr. Mallory asked. “We formulate weak batches?”
“Uh — huh,” Gary said, pensively, shoving his hands in his pockets. “That would work. Weak batches, using low-toxicity components with small halftimes.”
Dr. Crawford stretched her legs, as if to see if she was able to stand on her own. Then she spoke in a quiet voice, just above a whisper. “Let me ask you all something that might seem unusual. Are any of you good with hypnosis? I mean, really good, as in hypnotizing someone against their will?”
“Hmm…” Gary said, “interesting thought.”
“I’ve had some results,” Dr. Mallory replied, “but, of course, I’ve never tried it against a patient’s will. It’s unethical, illegal even.”
“Here, it doesn’t matter,” Dr. Crawford said. “Try, try it whenever you have a chance, let’s see what happens. Maybe some are more susceptible than others. It could be a way. But be careful,” she added. “They can’t suspect a thing.”
She stood and stretched her back a little. “In the meantime,” she added, “I will ask for any documentation they might have on previous research. Something tells me this isn’t the first time they’ve tried to formulate this drug.”