Immortal (3 page)

Bowman hung up and waved him in. "Dr. Logan, have a seat." His voice had an intelligent rawness to it.

"Thank you." Josh sat.

Despite most people's discomfort around Bowman's blunt demeanor, Josh found him very likable. He was the exact antithesis of Josh -physically imposing, charismatic, and practicing medicine without the need for praise that Josh so craved.

Bowman removed his glasses and gazed at him.

"Dr. Logan, I guess you were surprised when you got my page?"

Josh shifted in his seat. Bowman was known for getting right to the point. "Well, I was a little, but it's all right. I'm anxious to get started anyway."

"Indeed," Bowman said. "I'm pleased to say we had the foresight to purchase a sizable condominium complex a couple months ago. It's very pleasant. I think you'll like it. You're welcome to one of the units for as long as you like. We use it for visitors and patient's families. How does that sound?"

Josh exhaled silently. "That'd be great. Is it close by?"

"Two blocks." Bowman smiled warmly.

"That's very thoughtful," Josh said. He was finding the hospitality hard to believe.

After reviewing general policy and procedure for a half hour or so, Bowman stood, pacing now in front o his window. "Dr. Logan, you know here at Ford we have a certain reputation to live up to. There are outside forces that would love to see us fail."

Josh frowned. Bowman's statement was unnerving on its own account, but it was the look of concern on his face that really worried Josh. "I assume you mean, competing hospitals."

"I sure as hell do!" Bowman showed a rare flash of emotion. "There are only so many research dollars out there, and everyone and their aunt wants them. So I tell you this. Trust no one. And give
no one
any information about this facility. That is the most important thing. What goes on at Ford stays at Ford. Do you have a problem with that?"

Josh found Bowman's on again off again charm hard to deal with. "My oath is to provide my patients with the best care I can give them. Not to get involved in hospital politics. And confidentiality is the trademark of any good hospital. It's a matter of self-preservation. My lips are sealed."

Bowman paused a moment. "You are not exactly silent about your views on advanced technology medicine."

Josh had written a long dissertation to Bowman on his views of future technology and advanced biology and how it would affect the doctor's role in deciding when clinical death actually occurred in the patient. At the time, Josh had found it to be an odd request, but surprisingly found his own views gave rise to opinions he never knew he had. He felt certain his paper had cinched the job. Bowman had told him as much.

"That's a different matter," Josh said. "I believe I made that clear in my letter."

Bowman looked unimpressed. He gave Josh a stern stare. "Be that as it may, Dr. Logan, if you find yourself amidst conflicting opinions at any time, I strongly urge you to consult with me before you say anything you might regret later."

Josh felt a distant chill. "I understand."

"My concerns are simple," Bowman said. "I have a responsibility to the board members of this institute to protect our assets. I intend to do that, and I expect my employees to do the same. It's in everyone's best interest."

"Sign me up," Josh said, half joking.

The smile returned to Bowman's face. "Now with that out of the way-"

Suddenly the door burst open and a nurse rushed in. "They're ready in the ER, Dr. Bowman."

Bowman leapt to his feet. "Come along, Dr. Logan. You might as well get acquainted."

Four minutes later, Josh Logan stepped off the elevator onto the first floor. Before the door even closed, he looked down the hall and saw a knot of people gathered outside the ER and felt his pulse rising.

It would have been easier if he had known what to expect.

Chapter 5

Josh Logan's thoughts were lost
in the morning's bizarre developments as he stared down at the dead man in the ER. He had seen plenty of dead bodies before, but there was something particularly unnerving about this one. Instead of the usual practice of shrouding the body, two medical personnel in blue scrubs stood over him frantically intubating his windpipe, despite the fact he was obviously beyond resuscitation. The eyes had not yet found their vacant, lifeless gaze and seemed to be twisted up toward the ceiling in a freeze-frame of terror.

Two additional scrub-clad attendants arrived with a small machine that looked to Josh like a centrifuge. The initial flash of confusion instantly gave way to trepidation.

"Hey, are these guys for real?" Josh asked Bowman in amazement.

Bowman smiled. "Relax, Dr. Logan. This is a common occurrence around here. That's why I wanted you to see it. They're preparing the body for cryonic suspension. Dr. Hech, one of our neurologists, actively promotes it."

"Isn't that kind of a conflict of interest?"

"Not really. It's just an alternative to traditional burial. You may want to ask Dr. Hench about it, though. I don't get involved too much. Enough to deal with, here. But since you'll be working with Dr. Hench, I thought it would be a good time to meet him."

Surrounded by a phalanx of nurses, Dr. Arthur Hench strolled into the ER cubicle.

"Ah, Dr. Hench," Bowman said. "I was just talking about you."

"What's new, Larry, aren't you always?" Hench grinned.

"I was just telling our new man here about your side project."

"This must be the Josh Logan you've raved about."

Josh felt himself blush.

"And for good reason. He's going to make a fine addition to our team here," Bowman said.

Hench gave a tentative smile. "I'm sure he will."

Hench looked toward the room, where the group continued to work on the dead patient. "I take it you've seen our latest acquisition?" Hench asked, directing the question to Bowman.

Josh could see they had now wrapped the man completely in plastic and he was being lowered into a long vat of dry ice that rested on a gurney.

"Mr. Klien, right?" Bowman asked.

Hench nodded. "Yes, the four million dollar man, Mr. Klein."

Hench's callousness staggered Josh. Acquisition? Four million dollar man?
What an asshole.
That man was somebody's son, and maybe, husband or father. Hench excused himself, then pushed his way into the room. When he was out of earshot, Josh turned to Bowman. "Compassionate fellow, isn't he?"

Bowman chuckled. "Don't mind him. What he lacks in tact, he makes up for in practice. He's actually done some fine things for Ford in the way of neurological pioneering. That's what led him to this fascination with cryonic suspension. He believes if he can preserve the brain immediately after death, that eventually, as science progresses, man will have the technology and resources to restore the individual to a youthful and healthy condition. It's quite remarkable, actually. But beyond my expertise."

"Sounds to me like he's in it for the money."

"Well frankly, Josh, it's all voluntary. Dr. Hench offers them a chance they wouldn't have otherwise.
The only chance.
He doesn't ram it down their throat, but you have to admit, it is a convincing argument. A chance to be resurrected at a later date versus being put into the ground permanently."

Josh nodded. "I see your point. What's your opinion of it? I mean your
non-professional
opinion."

Bowman's eyes glazed over and he looked away. "There are worse things than death."

Chapter 6

After a late lunch where
he was introduced to various staff members, Josh headed to the elevators to leave. Bowman gave him a 24-hour reprieve to get unpacked and settled into his new condo. Despite Josh's feelings of exuberance over his new position, he couldn't help feel a sense of unease with what he'd seen. Cryonic suspension was hardly new to Josh. The concept had been around since the early sixties and he'd read different papers on it over the years. Mostly for entertainment. But now, with the lead neurologist at Ford actively promoting it, Josh had been stunned into silence. The scientific and philosophical implications astounded him, forcing him to rethink everything he had ever believed about death. Despite Hollywood's propensity for casting corpses that come to life on the drop of a dime, no one who has experienced brain death has ever been resuscito h by cryonic or any other means, period. Consider the alternative, he thought.

As Josh stepped off the elevator and dismissed those thoughts for the moment, he found himself almost walking into an attractive redhead about to get on the elevator.

She gazed at Josh's new ID tag. "Excuse me, Dr..." She leaned in and looked at his name. "Logan. I was wondering if you could give me some information."

"And you are?" Josh asked.

"I'm sorry. Marty Branigan. Phoenix Sun."

Josh was mildly amused. "You're a reporter?"

"Yes."

"I'm not sure I'm the right one to be asking. I'm new here myself. You might want to try upstairs."

The girl frowned. "Bad idea. I don't think they want me up there. They're very secretive here."

"Are you saying you snuck in?"

"No, you said that."

"But you did say they don't want you here."

Marty Branigan threw up her hands. "All right, you win. But can you just verify something for me?"

Josh's mind shot back to his interview with Bowman. What happens at Ford stays at Ford.

"What is it you want to know, Ms.Branigan?"

"It's Marty ... and I was wondering about Norman Klein. I have a source that claims he died this morning. Can you verify that?"

"I cannot," Josh said.

"I also have information that he's on his way to Aurora Life Extension."

Josh heaved a sigh. "Look Marty, I'd like to help, but I can't verify it one way or the other. But if he is, it was his choice."

Marty Branigan shifted her weight. "Well, see, here's the thing, Dr. Logan. I'm an investigative reporter. And Norman Klein is ... or was, a big shot in Phoenix social circles. He had a ton of money. And it seems Ford Institute has some ties to Aurora, which, well, let's just say, has been under close scrutiny lately."

The comment took Josh by surprise. "What kind of scrutiny?"

"Dr. Logan, you work for Ford. I can't reveal that until my investigation is complete. But I will tell you this. Aurora was on the verge of bankruptcy last year. Now, since their affiliation with Ford, they're flush with cash again."

"Maybe they got a loan?"

Branigan glanced sidelong at Josh. "Banks don't lend money to places that freeze people for the future. It's not exactly a popular form of commerce. I checked. No one would touch them."

"Ms. Branigan, Dr. Bowman is a man of great character. I'm sure he wouldn't be involved in anything with conflicting interest."

Branigan nodded. "Yes, I've met Bowman. He seems like a nice guy. Sad about his son, though."

"What do you mean?" Josh asked.

"I thought you said you work for him?"

"Well I do, but our relationship is more on the professional level. He doesn't talk about his personal life."

Branigan paused. "He had a son. He was grooming him to take over at Ford someday. He was in his last year of medical school. On his way home a couple years ago, he got killed when a drunk driver hit him on I-80. Bowman was in seclusion for nearly six months."

Josh felt his body flush. "That's too bad. I had no idea."

"Yeah. Anyway, Bowman doesn't have anything to do with Aurora, but Hench, that's a different story."

Josh barely heard the last sentence he was so stunned by the revelation of Bowman's son's death. "Yeah, listen Marty, I really gotta go. Maybe we could get together later and finish this conversation?"

"Are you asking me out, doctor?"

Josh smileddquo;We can call it that."

"Okay," Marty said. "How 'bout you meet me at the Cowboy Grill at eight? It's right up the street from where you're staying."

Josh furrowed his brow. "How do you know where I'm staying?"

"I have my sources. See you then."

Chapter 7

The director of the Aurora
Life Extension Foundation took his seat in the oak-paneled boardroom, his twelve-member board waiting silently the length of the long table for him to speak. The expressionless faces of several previous board members, preserved for posterity in expensive oil paintings above them, seemed accusatory.

As director, he had ample time during the last few months to dwell on the reasons for the trouble and prepare to deal with it. Two years ago, he pressured the board to go outside the normal scope of Aurora's acquisition process and allocate five million dollars for a special brain-reanimation program. Success in the research program, he promised, might well offer the world what many felt was light years away.
Immortality.

But time was running out. Due now for completion, the program needed at least another year to produce concrete results. According to the figures contained in each member's gold-embossed folder, it had, due to spiraling inflation, now cost twelve million dollars to date. Aurora was no exception to the nation's economic problems and on the printed page; the figures stood out like an offending sore.

With clear appreciation of his past leadership, the director knew his board would let him defend the huge cost overrun. After all, hadn't they also accepted the unparalleled secrecy he imposed on the project? None of the twelve at the table had a clear understanding of anything the project involved except its goals.
And they never would.

He stalled a last moment, adjusting his rimless glasses. The glasses were tinted and he found that to be an advantage. It made it difficult for others to read possibly betraying expressions.

He took in the gray and balding heads and lined faces looking back at him. They represented a unique group with one common goal: to have a second chance at life.

He exhaled silently and said, "The figures before you are indeed unsettling and I understand your concern, although I assure you our research is close to a final breakthrough."