Hunt for Jade Dragon (27 page)

“You are back, Michael,” he said with a thick Asian accent. “I am pleased you are back. Now we can get to work.” He reached over and pulled a metal cart next to me. I could hear the squeaking of the cart's wheels, but I could not see what was on it.

“We don't know where acupuncture began. But it is ancient. Very ancient. Much older than Western medicine—even older than your gods. There are records of it being used for more than three thousand years. Some attribute it to Shennong, the emperor of the five grains. But that sounds like superstition. Unlike many of my order, I am not a superstitious man. I am a man of science.

“A more reasonable explanation is that the Chinese doctors of the Han dynasty observed that soldiers wounded by arrows were sometimes cured of illnesses.

“I do not know why acupuncture was never accepted in Western culture. Maybe they were afraid of the unfamiliar.” He lifted something from the cart and held it above me so I could see it. It was a simple steel needle about six inches long. I closed my eyes.

“Yes, you prove my point,” he said. “You Westerners are squeamish about needles. You act as if this fascinating art were barbaric. It's not. Acupuncture isn't about pain. In truth, if done properly, most patients report feeling a pleasurable sensation.” He moved his face closer to mine and looked into my eyes. “
Most
. But that would not be true for you. You see, acupuncture is about directing the electricity in your body. But where there is an abnormal amount of electricity, it tends to cause pain. Sometimes great pain.

“We have observed that you have more electricity than the others, so your pain might be especially exquisite.” He held the needle a few inches above my chest. “There are three hundred and sixty acupuncture points. This one is called the
Wuyi
.” With a slight twisting motion he inserted the needle about an inch into my skin. Immediately, electricity shot through my body toward the needle. I yelled out.

“Yes, you see, I was right.” He lifted another needle from the tray. “Now, if we place a needle here, it will create a circuit between the two points.” He poked another needle into the skin between my neck
and clavicle. It felt as if a live high-voltage electric wire had been inserted through my body. I screamed. “Stop!”

The man seemed intrigued by my reaction. “The challenge is to keep the pain as high as possible while still keeping you conscious.”

“Please, stop,” I cried.

“We are only beginning,” he said clinically. He inserted another needle near my groin. The electricity created a triangular current that contracted my stomach muscles. Involuntarily my body heaved forward as if I were trying to do a sit-up, but the leather restraints held me down. I felt as if I was going to vomit. Sweat streamed down the sides of my face, and already my hair and skin were completely drenched. My eyes felt locked shut.

“
Hen you yisz
,” he said. “Very interesting.”

I forced my eyes open as he lifted another needle. His eyes scanned my body like it was a map and he was searching for a destination.

“What do you want from me?” I cried.

His eyes settled on mine in a curious gaze. “Nothing. What would I want from you?”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“I told you, I am a man of science. For thousands of years we have believed there were three hundred and sixty acupuncture points. I believe the number is closer to five hundred. With your hypersensitivity to the needles, I believe, together, we can find them all.”

The thought of hundreds of more needles stuck into me paralyzed me with fear. “That will kill me,” I said.

The man was quiet for a moment, then said, “That is a possibility.” He breathed out slowly. “But there is a cost for all knowledge.”

He looked back at my body. “Now, we continue. If I place a needle here . . .”

I shut my eyes as I felt the cold tip of the needle against my neck. He began to slide it into my skin when someone shouted, “Stop!”

“Sir . . .”

“Take those out, now! Or I'll have you fed to the rats.”

“Yes, sir.”

He immediately pulled the needles out. The pain stopped.

“Now get out of here.
Ma shang, ba
!”

“
Bau chyan
,” the man said. “
Bau chyan
.”

I could hear him running from the room, his soft footfalls echoing down the corridor. There was a moment of silence; then whoever had entered the room sat down next to me. “Barbarian,” he grumbled. I was still too weak to open my eyes. I could feel a dry cloth being dabbed on my head and face. “I'm sorry, Michael. I had no idea they were doing this to you. Trust me, they will pay for this atrocity.”

The voice sounded oddly familiar. I forced my eyes open. Though my vision was blurry I could make out the visage of a man, not too old, maybe a few years younger than my mother. His hair was light brown, almost the same color as mine, and he had thick eyebrows.

When I could speak I said, “Who are you?”

He didn't answer but continued to wipe the sweat from my neck and face. Then he said, “Are you sure you don't know who I am?”

“No.”

“I know your vision must still be blurry, but look more carefully.”

As my vision cleared I could make out the details of his face. He looked so familiar. Then I remembered. I knew who he was.

“No,” I said. “I'm hallucinating.”

“It must seem . . . odd,” he said. He ticked, his face contracting in a grimace. “Or maybe impossible. But I am who you think I am.”

My eyes welled up with tears, but this time not from pain. “Dad?”

“Y
ou have no idea how much I've missed you,” my father said as he unlatched the straps that held me down. I slowly rubbed my wrists, then tried to sit up.

“Not too fast,” he said. “I'm sure you're still dizzy. Is the ice helping?” My father had set ice packs where the needles had been used.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“You must be thirsty. Let me get you some water.” He reached down and brought up a plastic bottle. I drained the whole thing.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” One of his eyes twitched and he gulped like I sometimes did. “How are you feeling?”

“I don't know. Confused.”

“I'm not surprised, after what they've done to you. You'll feel better in a few hours.”

“I mean about you,” I said.

He hesitated a moment, then said, “I understand.”

“How are you . . .” I couldn't think of the right word.

“Alive?” he said. “It's simple. I never died.”

“But I went to your funeral. I remember it.”

“How was that?” he said, sounding slightly amused. “I would have liked to have been there. I even considered going in disguise, but it was too risky.”

I didn't find what he was telling me amusing. “Was Mom in on this?”

He was quiet a moment; then his voice softened. “No. She believes I'm dead.”

“But you had a death certificate. I saw it.”

“That's not hard to get when you work at a hospital.”

Suddenly anger welled up inside of me. “I cried every day for a year. How could you do this to us?”

“Not
to
,” he said calmly. “
For
. It's a big difference. And I had my reasons. After we discovered that the MEI had malfunctioned, we had reason to fear for our lives. Not just mine and James Hatch's, but yours and your mother's as well.

“We were working with unsavory people, like Giacomo Schema, who had lost hundreds of millions of dollars. We had board members who could potentially lose millions of dollars more in lawsuits. You have to understand that these were ruthless men and women who were willing to kill not only my colleagues and me but even my wife and newborn child. In fact, they openly threatened me that if the deaths the MEI caused were discovered, they would take you from me. That, I couldn't risk. So James Hatch and I—”

“Hatch is a demon,” I blurted out. “He tried to kill me.”

My father seemed disturbed by my outburst. “No, he just pretended to, or you wouldn't still be alive.” He let the words settle. “Michael, sometimes things aren't as they seem. James Hatch did what he had to do. He pled with the board not to use the MEI until it could be safely tested. We both did. So did Dr. Coonradt. But they wouldn't listen. They forced us to use the machine before it was ready.

“The MEI could have saved millions of lives a year. It would have
allowed us to detect and treat cancer months, even years, before it was a threat. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. The three of us doctors—Hatch, Coonradt, and I—were certain that we could make the MEI work if we had the time. But the Elgen board wouldn't wait. And when things went wrong, they blamed us for doing what they forced us to.”

He took a deep breath. “I could have resigned. I should have. But hindsight is always twenty-twenty. I was young and employed in a good job. Your mother's and my dreams were coming true. Your mother was pregnant and we were about to start our family. It wasn't the time to quit my job—especially when there was a chance that the MEI might have worked.

“Had I known what the machine would do, I would have quit. But there was no way of knowing.” He breathed out slowly. “The weight of that decision has been crushing. You might say that I was one of the lucky ones, because you could have been one of those babies killed. But I had to lose you just like those other parents did.” His eyes welled up. “But now that we've stopped Schema and his jackals, it doesn't matter. No one can take you or my wife away from me. That's why we came looking for you. Not because you're electric, but because you're my son and I couldn't bear not having you.”

“Hatch told me I killed you.”

“I wasn't happy about that. But he said what he thought he needed to in order to protect us. And you.”

“What about Mom? Why would Hatch kidnap her?”

My father frowned, then his jaw began ticking. “Things got a little out of hand,” he said.

“A little?”

“A lot.” He put his hand on my arm. “Michael, never forget that what I did, I did for you and your mother. I sacrificed everything I knew and loved to protect the ones I loved most.”

We looked at each other for a moment; then my father said, “Oh, before I forget.” He held up my watch. I hadn't seen it since I'd been captured in Peru by Hatch. “I thought you'd want this back.”

I took it from him. I looked at it for a moment, then handed it back. “You should keep it. It's yours.”

My father seemed a little taken aback. “No, I want you to have it.”

I put it on my wrist, which was still red and indented from the leather strap I'd been tied down with. “It got kind of beaten up,” I said.

“Like you?”

“Yeah,” I said.

We were quiet for a moment. As I looked at him, he ticked a few more times.

“You have Tourette's too?” I asked.

He nodded. “You know it's genetic. You had to suspect that I had it, since your mother doesn't.”

“I never thought about it.”

“I'm sorry I gave that to you.” He lightly grinned. “But I also gave you your good looks. You've got to take the bad with the good.”

“I think Mom helped.”

“Helped,” he said, laughing. “She was ninety-nine percent of your good looks.”

As I looked at him I suddenly broke down crying. My father looked at me for a moment, then he put his arms around me and held me. I wept for a long time before we parted. When I could speak I asked, “Now what?”

He shook his head. “Things have gotten a little . . . sorry,
a lot
out of hand. Now this whole crazy resistance thing has started. . . .”

“They said
you
started it.”

He looked at me. “Why would I start a resistance against myself? Who told you that?”

“Simon.”

“Simon? I don't know any Simon.”

“He said he worked with you.”

He looked down to think. “Right. It's been a long time, but I think I know who it is. Simon Kay. He worked at the hospital.” He looked back at me. “It's time we rescued your mother. Now that we've taken back our company from Schema, we can all be together again. We can fulfill the dream that started all of this, and save millions of lives.”

My eyes filled with tears again. “I've done such bad things.”

“You can't blame yourself, Son. You're only fifteen. You've done what you were told to do by Simon.”

“It wasn't Simon,” I said. “It was the voice.”

He looked at me quizzically “What's the voice?”

“I don't know. It's just a voice that talks to us.”

He looked at me quizzically then said, “We need to save your mother before they hurt her. Where is she?”