Immortal (4 page)

He paused to focus on one member in particular: a dry emotionless man in his mid-sixties whose cold eyes were dark-circled and whose pale bony hands looked like dry parchment. The man's name he remembered was Jacob Crane. He had been on the board less than a year.

The man spoke up, his voice tinged with condescension, although had he known who he was talking to, he would have been anything but.

"Mr. Director, I regret I have a certain problem with your optimism. Especially with regard to the board being kept in the dark about how the money is being spent. I believe I speak for everyone here when I say we are tired of vague claims about neuro-regeneration and about equating that possibility with complete body synthesis. I just don't see it, based on my information."

"So, are you saying you want the research to stop?"

The man's face flushed. "Of course not, I'm just saying-"

"Perhaps a tour of the facility would be in order at the proper time."

The man set his mouth in a half-smile. "Perhaps."

The other members nodded in agreement. The director had got the reaction he wanted. He called their bluff and they relented. The remainder of the meeting went without incident, though it had been unduly long. And tense.

A half-hour later, he was back in his own luxurious office one flight below the boardroom. He sank into the high-backed leather chair and prepared for the nxt meeting. This one would be less tense, he knew. Unlike the board of Aurora, everyone on the GPO board
knew
how the money was being spent.

Chapter 8

Jacob Crane was still steaming
as he drove from the meeting at Aurora. Not only had the director embarrassed him in front of the other board members, he had also insulted Crane's intelligence by insinuating he didn't understand the science behind the foundation's mission. When the meeting had closed, Crane demanded the tour of the facility that had only been suggested in the meeting. As a Dean of Academics at Arizona State, he was not used to anyone questioning his authority. And even though he was new on the Aurora board, he expected more respect from the director.

Now, as he drove away from the facility, he had a more immediate problem. Some type of bug had stung him on the way to his car and suddenly his arm seemed to be going numb.

What the hell?

What had started as a tiny pinprick of discomfort, now rapidly flowered into a riot of agony that was spreading throughout his whole body.

By reflex, Crane gripped the steering wheel of his car more tightly and somehow managed to stay in control of the weaving vehicle as he gasped for breath.

Instead of pulling over, instinct told him his only hope was to get to a hospital.

But it was too late.

Crane's head felt like it was being crushed. He started to cry out when there was an explosion deep in his brain and darkness descended like a lead blanket.

The car, now out of control, careened off the freeway and down a steep embankment, end over end, finally blowing apart in a blinding eruption of flames. Burning tires rolled into the desert in every direction.

* * *

Less than a mile behind Crane and already accelerating away from the area, Diego Salvez called the director of Aurora. His message was brief.

"Subject eliminated."

Chapter 9

Tonight's dinner would be the
first time Josh had been out socially since before Lori had died.

Unable to make their first meeting a day earlier, Josh had called Marty Branigan, apologized, been chewed out for standing her up, and now stood outside the Mesa Grill waiting for her to arrive. Josh felt like a proverbial fish out of water. He'd stuck his head in the bar, but immediately chose to wait outside instead. A steady stream of well buffed young guys, usually in groups of two and three, passed by him on their way inside, all of them hungrily checking out every female in sight. Each one looked like a carbon copy of the other. White, clean cut, dressed in tailored slacks and Oxford or Polo shirts, starched crisp. Most were probably from Arizona State College, two miles away. While he stood there, Josh only saw one or two couples. The Mesa Grill was obviously a hot spot. Especially on a Friday night.

So this is what Marty Branigan had in mind? Oh well, he needed to unwind, anyway. What difference did it make?

At 7:10 Marty finally showed up. In the twenty-four hours since they'd met, she had transformed herself into someone Josh might not have recognized had he not been specifically looking for her. Instead of her straight shoulder length hair, her current style had it swept around in a chignon with spiked up bangs. Her lips were heavily lined and her eyes were no longer behind wire rim glasses. And, instead of jeans, she wore a slinky flowered dress with a low cut front that flattered her ample figure.

"Look at you," Josh proclaimed. "You're gorgeous."

Marty blushed.

"You don't look so bad yourself there, Dr. Kildare."

Josh laughed. He liked Marty's sense of humor. He'd noticed it when squo;d first met. It was disarming and any pretense he might have had, vanished. "I was getting worried for a minute, I was afraid you'd stand me up."

"Sorry to keep you waiting. I was working on a story and I got caught up in it. And then there's getting ready." She giggled. "You know how that is."

They found an empty table, and the two of them made their way through the crowd and sat. Marty ordered a margarita, Josh chose beer. The walls were lined with western memorabilia, but there was no country and western music, it was pure rock and roll. Two huge speakers hanging in opposite corners blasted out a Bob Seger tune. The noise was deafening, making it difficult to talk, but both knew it would be awkward to be silent for long, so they just leaned in and raised their voices.

"So, are you happy with your new position so far?" Marty asked.

"Yes, it's my dream job."

"How about Arizona? I bet you miss the East Coast."

Josh looked away. "Sometimes."

"Did I say something wrong?" Marty asked.

Josh leaned in. "No, I'm sorry. It's a long story. Maybe I'll tell you sometime. Meanwhile, how about something to eat? I'm starved."

They ordered, then sat and pretended to be interested in what was going on around them for a while. The crowd was getting louder and more raucous. Josh found the whole scene totally depressing. Marty on the other hand seemed to be enjoying herself.

Josh set down his beer glass and looked up. "I really didn't come here to talk shop, but something you said the other day is still bothering me."

"What's that?" Marty asked.

"Hench. You seemed to question his motives. And to tell you the truth, from what I saw the other day, I feel the same way."

Marty leaned in. "I find it odd that all his patients have been dying lately. And not a single one of them have gone to the morgue."

"How do you know this ... wait, let me guess, you have your sources."

"Yes, I do, but there have also been complaints from families. Some say their loved ones were coerced into signing an agreement with this, Aurora Life Extension Foundation. The problem is, the place is so secretive, no one really knows much about it, aside from their tax records."

Josh heaved a sigh. "Well, I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but I know that Aurora gives Ford money for their research, which is a huge conflict of interest, yet as long as the patient signs the agreement, it's all perfectly legal and the family can't really do a thing about it."

"It sounds like the Ted Williams fiasco a few years ago. The family fought to keep him from being put in the deep freeze, but they lost because he'd already signed an agreement."

"Exactly. But I'd be curious to get a look at Hench's patient files. Trouble is, I'm so new there, I can't make a move without being scrutinized. And Hench is my supervisor, unfortunately. And I don't like him at all. Very condescending."

"You mean
he's an asshole,"
Marty said.

Josh grinned. "Thank You."

After their meal was finished, they had a couple more drinks and talked for an hour or so. Josh paid the bill and walked Marty to her car, promising to see her again soon. Before she got in, she reached up and gave Josh a hard kiss. He watched her drive away, then went to his own car. He fumbled with the keys, then finally unlocked his door. He was pleased Marty had come into his life, and for the first time since Lori's death, considered the possibility of a real relationship.

At the same time, a disturbing thought occurred to him about Arthur Hench.

What if ...

He flushed the grim scenario from his d.

Chapter 10

After one week at Ford
, Josh was starting to get used to the routine. He was usually in by seven, scrubbed by seven thirty, and in the OR assisting Dr. Hench or one of the other surgeons. He was a little late this morning.

Today, the first case was a nineteen-year-old with a neuroblastoma. The surgery was fairly routine, but complicated by the fact that the girl was a hemophiliac. Any bleeding in her dura would be almost impossible to control. With a distant chill, Josh entered OR six.

At that moment, he saw Dr. Hench step back from the table. The craniotomy was done and they were ready to begin the main procedure.

Hench looked over at Josh. "Glad you could join us Dr. Logan. I thought perhaps you'd taken the day off."

Josh felt himself flush. "It's only seven forty-five."

"Well, be that as it may, Dr. Logan, when I'm running the OR, we start at seven-thirty. If that's not too much to ask, of course."

Josh could feel his anger building, but he resisted the urge to verbally spar with Hench. "No problem."

"Good, then let's begin. As you can see the craniotomy has already been done, so the first thing we need to do is to tent up the dura."

Deftly, Hench bent over and made a small opening in the dura while Josh held it back. A pinkish-gray mound of brain could be seen through the hole. His relatively small hands worked quickly and deliberately and within a minute had exposed the cover of the patient's brain. He gently palpated the surface of the brain with his index finger.

"Ah yes, I feel that bad boy right there. Nurse, suction please. Now let's have that nitrogen needle."

The nitrogen needle was not a needle at all, but rather a cryogenic scalpel that Hench himself had invented. It actually froze tissue instantly as it dissected it, leaving virtually no blood, and unlike the electric knife that cauterized tissue as it cut, the cryo-needle left the perimeter of the wound undamaged.

"Would you like to have the honors, Dr. Logan?" Hench asked.

Josh stepped forward and took the needle from Hench. The device was no bigger than a toothbrush and the tip was as fine as a human hair.

"Just cut like it was a scalpel," Hench said. "It will do the work for you."

Josh visualized the tumor through the craniotomy window and slowly began to dissect the outer edges of it. He was shocked at how easily the cryo-needle cut through tissue. "This is amazing."

"You see, I told you."

What Hench hadn't told Josh was that he really didn't invent the nitrogen needle completely by himself. His affiliation with Aurora Life Extension had provided him with the means to acquire several pieces of their equipment, which he then modified. Josh had found that out himself.

Continuing around the perimeter of the tumor, Josh made a final incision and lifted the walnut size tumor from the skull. A few small veins could be seen underneath, but there was no bleeding. Josh heaved a sigh. "That's it, let's close her up."

"Nice work," Hench said.

Josh was too stunned to speak. It was the first compliment Hench gave him since his arrival. Perhaps he could work in peace with him after all.

Chapter 11

The accident OCCURRED at precisely
6:00 P.M. The exact location was the Arizona Route 101, ten miles west of Tucson. The weather was clear, the road, bone-dry. It took all of ten seconds to occur.

The young girl driving the Honda Accord never saw the oil tanker, laden with two thousand gallons of diesel fuel, bearing down on her. With her mind somewhere else, she was driving at only fifty, perhaps not fast enough for the heavy traffic on the Interstate.

She was in the right lane and southbound when the road widened at the exit ramp to Route 52, which traversed beneath it. By the time she woke up to where she was going, there was only just enough time to swerve back onto the parkway itself.

A scream of tires, and the tanker's right front slammed into her. The Honda slewed diagonally and smashed against the high curb separating the Interstate from the descending exit ramp. The impact launched the Honda into the air. It hit a utility pole, then slid down the ramp on its side, slamming roof-first into the rear of an SUV. The SUV catapulted forward with a violent eruption of metal on metal, and the Honda, now upside down, slid a dozen more yards and shrieked to a halt.

A flicker of light, and its gas tank exploded.

Behind the melee, drivers screeched to a halt and were scrambling toward the Honda, some with fire extinguishers in hand. The first to reach the girl was a middle-aged man who went to work putting out the fire that now threatened the driver's compartment. The Honda's whole rear chassis was an inferno, but the driver was momentarily protected by the jammed up front and back seats.

Unfortunately the fire extinguisher was pathetically small and it was empty within seconds. The fire continued to rage and the Honda's seats began to burn. Men had gathered and tried to get to the girl but the heat was too intense.

Screams erupted from inside the burning car as the inferno roasted the girl alive. The screams became continuous and horrifying. Like the shrieks of the damned being sucked into Hell itself. People nearby retched and turned away.

When the fire department finally arrived with the ambulance, the girl's body was already black from the chest down and smelled like grilled bacon. One of her feet was nearly gone, with just charred bone showing. She was conscious but confused, and in such shock, pain did not register.