Catnip (25 page)

He also recognized the scars from the bullet
holes. Tillman had hit him at point blank range as had the
hunter…and then to his shock, the wounds had suddenly closed up and
healed, just as Anastasia’s had. Enhanced regenerative capacity, he
thought, and then the bear creature smiled, his teeth and fangs
yellow and dirty with the remains of something he’d recently eaten.
Harry didn’t think it was worth asking if the thing was a
vegetarian.

The bald man had a tiny smile on his face.
“Come into the main laboratory, please.”

He followed the man and Ivan into a
combination cellar-laboratory and recognized the same lab equipment
he’d used both at the university and at the FBI labs, along with a
computer on a table in the far corner. A heavy duty gurney with an
IV-drip stand sat in the opposite corner. And yes, wooden walls,
cables, and a string of overhead light bulbs completed the
picture—Anastasia’s only memory of this place.

So this was where the madness had all begun,
the madness that resulted in his girlfriend and Doug being
transformed into what they were. This whole thing was just sick, a
twisted dream by a psycho.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” the man
said.

In the harsh light, the man appeared to be
older than Harry had initially thought, somewhere in his late
sixties. The language, the foreign accent…he quickly figured it all
out. “You’re Mr. Nurmelev?”

His captor bowed. “I am, but my correct title
is
Professor
Nurmelev. It is my honor to meet you. I knew
your father only slightly, but that was years back, and only
recently did I learn of his passage.” The professor gave another
slight bow. “He was a great man.”

As sincere as the compliment had been given,
it didn’t exactly make Harry feel warm and fuzzy all over. This man
had to be a whack-job in the first degree, Harry thought, but he
did his best to mask his disgust. “Uh, thanks.”

Nurmelev waved off the reply. “It is true.
Your father was on the verge of doing something of historic
proportions, and you, his son, have carried on his good name.”

Talk about hypocrisy! The whole thing set
Harry off. “I don’t create monsters. You’re just sick!”

His host’s smile disappeared for a fraction
of a second, but it soon returned. “If you call improving on
humanity sick, then you might just as well call all medicine
perverted and all pharmaceutical researchers insane. I am simply
improving upon what Nature has given us.”

He turned to the bear creature. “Watch the
girl.” Ivan obediently went to the prison room to stand guard and
did not turn his head in their direction.

The professor gestured with his hand to the
far room. “Come with me and we will have our talk. There are many
things which must be made clear to you.”

Nurmelev led the way through the lab and
through a doorway that opened up into a slightly more spacious room
replete with two couches and a coffee table between them, a
kitchen, refrigerator, and a television set along with a few more
pieces of scientific lab material. A whole host of textbooks on
biology, chemistry, human reproduction, and more sat on a shelf in
the corner of the room. Harry recognized the texts. He’d read all
of them.

The scientist seated himself comfortably on a
sofa and Harry took the opposite one. As he sat, he felt distinctly
ill at ease, as if the madness this man possessed could somehow
infect him. “Are we still in the Catskill Mountains?”

Nurmelev spoke quietly and in the same manner
as a university lecturer would.

“Yes, that is correct. You are not too far
from where you first arrived. This is a cabin which I purchased
with my multiple backers’ help many years ago. The original owner
passed away, his widow needed money, and it was the perfect place
I’d envisioned, a place where I’d be left free to do as I wished.
With some laborers I hired, we built this underground laboratory.
They thought I was just building a cellar. I had other things in
mind.”

“Like these experiments, or is there
something I missed?”

The Russian laughed. “The people here think I
am an eccentric retiree. I tell them that I am a former
international trading company official and they believe me. My
passport and other documents say the same thing. I have a car
parked not too far away from here. It is American-made, something
to help me fit in more with the populace. I drive into town once a
month, shop for things like everyone else, and then drive home. You
have not seen the upstairs yet, but it looks like an ordinary cabin
with a trapdoor that leads down here. No one has ever suspected
me.”

He sat back and waited for the inevitable
questions. “Your backers,” Harry said. “Are you talking about the
Russian government?”

Nurmelev slashed the air with his hand. “Fah,
they know nothing! They are only good for providing money, but they
have no vision, no understanding of what I am trying to achieve!”
He cleared his throat in disgust for his country’s leaders, Harry
imagined. “I expect I shall have to give you a history lesson
first.”

He began to talk about his early days
studying at university in Moscow, his interest in chemistry and
biology, and his appointment to a salaried position as a professor
of biology. “It is a position and nothing more,” he lamented.
“Tenure is sought after, very few obtain it, and when they do it is
a dead end unless one is truly brilliant.” He sighed. “I was never
that brilliant.”

“So how did you get into the espionage
game?”

Nurmelev went on with his story and spoke of
living with his parents until the age of thirty, his research, and
his eventual recruitment by the Russian secret service. “Of course,
the KGB is gone, but some elements remain either in security or in
scientific research. After
glasnost,
the names of the KGB,
the
Spetznatz
and other entities had all been besmirched,
but a few true believers continued the fight.”

Nurmelev relaxed, and Harry saw the light of
nostalgia shine in his eyes. Good times, meals with killers, drinks
with assassins, research on producing monsters, and now this. Then
he realized the man had started talking again.

“…they came to my house in Moscow,” Nurmelev
said. “They told me I could have a place with them in their
organization, and because I wished to further my studies, I
accepted. They placed me in a science research position at a lab in
Siberia. I was allowed to study and experiment to my heart’s
content. I studied English, as the best work had always been done
by American researchers, and I had the dream of one day meeting and
conversing with your father.”

His eyes gleamed with the light of someone
who was either certain of his cause or certifiably crazy—Harry
didn’t know which. “Did you ever meet him?”

The professor nodded. “I did. A number of
years ago, my wish came true. My backers—ex-KGB, wealthy
businessmen who shared my dream, fellow scientists—sent me to the
United States, and at a conference I met with your father. Like
him, I saw the possibilities of using transgenic research to cure a
whole host of human diseases, and after our meeting—sadly, we only
had a brief time together in order to discuss the various
theories—I knew this was a viable line of research. It was many
years ago when you were perhaps three or four, so obviously you do
not remember me.”

No, of course Harry didn’t…but after today,
he was sure he’d never forget this man…if he lived.

Nurmelev went on to detail his early
successes and many of his failures. “Even though the KGB had been
officially disbanded, some loyal followers hid in the shadows of
glasnost
and continued their work privately, secretly. Every
Russian government since the new millennia has denied its
existence, but it does exist, only in a different form.

“As for how I arrived to the point where I am
now, the answer always seemed to be just out of my grasp,” he said
and his eyes were still aglow, “like the star a child thinks it can
touch by reaching up to the heavens. I was close…and after one
outstanding experiment about twelve years ago the backers within my
organization placed me here so I could continue.”

Now it all became clear. “You mean, continue
making the perfect hybrid?” Harry asked.

Nurmelev nodded. “Exactly so, you are
correct, that is exactly so. These days, people spy on each other
using cyber systems. They are effective to be sure, but they can
either be overridden or blocked. You can spy on one another using
bugging devices, but they, too, can be discovered.”

He rested his arms on his knees and his hands
formed a steeple under his chin. “My plan was not original. Far
from it, but
because
it was so unoriginal I knew it would
work. I had a two-fold purpose in mind. First, I wished to create
the perfect warrior.” He waved his hand at the door. “My bear
friend, Ivan, is the perfect warrior, is he not?”

Ivan the Russian Bear, Harry thought. Now
he’d heard everything. “He doesn’t talk, does he?”

Nurmelev shook his head. “He still has the
vestiges of vocal chords, although his ability to speak is not
important. During the process, in order to maximize efficiency, I
considered certain areas of human development non-essential, such
as speech. In crossing Ivan’s genes with those of a bear’s, he
received enhanced eyesight, strength, speed and stamina, and, like
Anastasia, enhanced powers of recall. He has the bare minimum in
terms of intelligence. He can write down what needs to be written
and that is all, but his first and foremost mission is to be an
efficient tracker and killer. In that, I have succeeded beyond my
wildest dreams.”

How Ivan had managed to hide remained a
mystery, so he asked the professor and Nurmelev offered a brief
shrug. “An animal’s instincts are to hide whenever danger is
present, even so large an animal such as a bear,” he explained.
“Ivan was trained to hide and did so—quite successfully, I might
add—in the back alleys of New York. It is a large city, one with an
infinite number of places where one might obtain refuge. The sewers
are just one route. In any case, Ivan already had implanted images
of where to go in that city. But always—
always
—his primary
objective was to return here. It was never to kill you or
Anastasia. He could have done so at any time. It was not
necessary.”

The explanation all made sense. Ivan had
grabbed Anastasia in a bear hug and could have crushed her like
he’d done with Callaghan, yet didn’t. And he’d taken an awful lot
of punishment, yet he still lived. These facts solved the riddle of
the Russian Bear. “So where does Anastasia fit in?” Harry asked.
“And where did Doug fit in?”

The scientist got up and went over to the
fridge and pulled out two cans of Coke. He came back to the table
and set the drinks down. “Please, take one.”

As Harry let his hand dangle over the can,
the scientist added, “No, this refreshment is not tainted or
drugged. I use my drugs for other purposes.”

The Coke turned out to be Coke. Harry took a
few sips while Nurmelev continued his lecture. “This is where the
second part of my plan began. My dream was to create the perfect
spy who would be able to enter into any terrain, any area, any
household, and instantly map out who and what existed there. The
process began with dogs as they are more easily trained than cats,
with larger craniums, more strength, and more reliability. I
achieved some success with Doug, but he proved to be a little too
resourceful and escaped.”

Harry listened and the more he did, the more
he wanted to lay a beatdown on this man, but he kept his rage under
control. He could probably beat this man, but he didn’t stand a
chance against his bodyguard. Doug had been a decent guy and he
didn’t deserve to go out the way he had. Anastasia had been
blameless as well and didn’t deserve to be used, either.

The mad doctor snapped his fingers. “Pay
attention, young man. This is where the tale becomes more
interesting.”

Harry nodded. Play along, get the man to
‘fess up some more—and Nurmelev obliged him. “We always had a
backup plan. Just in case our initial attempts with a dog failed,
at roughly the same time we started the experiments with him, we
also started the experiments with Anastasia and found a distinct
advantage in using felines. They are smaller, yes, but more agile,
quicker in many cases, and when angered, no less vicious than
canines.

“My superiors and I were convinced that the
idea of transgenics would be foolproof and our plan was hatched.
They recommended using Ussuri cats. That breed of feline in Russia
is very rare, but if you can find one, you will find it to be
strong, fast, and intelligent. Unfortunately, their genes have been
crossbred so many times that it is difficult to find a purebred.
Nevertheless, living in Siberia, I managed to procure one. It is a
handsome animal.”

“I want to know who Anastasia was,” Harry
demanded. “She had a life. Who was she?”

Nurmelev stroked his chin and offered a brief
smile. “She was a prostitute. To be honest, I do not even know her
last name.”

“She was a…?”

Harry sat back, shaken by the truth, and
couldn’t find any words for a few seconds. The professor stared at
him through heavily lidded eyes in the same manner a snake would
just before it pounced on a mouse. “You are surprised, yes?”

“Yes.” Harry said dully, acutely depressed by
the revelation of his girlfriend’s personal history. The person
he’d come to care so much about, someone who meant everything to
him…he couldn’t think of anything to say.

Nurmelev shrugged and waved his hand
dismissively. “Girls like that are like nothing!” He snapped his
fingers sharply. “They are street trash. They serve a purpose for
lonely men and that is all.”