Project Zulu (2 page)

The security of the conference hall is twice as
intense as the entrance to the building. Passing a body scan, x-ray, physical
pat down, radio wave sweep and retina scan is the only way in. Jimmy takes his
seat at the table, behind his name plate, ‘James Gaston, R&D’. Jimmy’s boss,
Dr. Ross Gandle, will be running the meeting. Ross is the acting Director of
Research and Development for Syscorp East Coast operations. Ross does a quick
headcount, confirms the number with his console screen, and presses the enter
key on his keyboard. The door closes and a series of bolts engage. The lights
in the room dim, and a random sampling of ‘cover music’ begins to play on the
overhead speakers. Everyone in the room puts a head set on. Each headset has an
onboard random DNA analyzer that validates the wearer. The entire meeting will
be held via computer synchronization. Participants will type what they want to
say on keyboards in front of them, and then the text will be encrypted and converted
to audio. The audio will then be delivered only to the headsets that have been
validated.

Ross begins by calling the meeting to order and
introducing the key guest, General Michael Balchor, Advocate Assistant to the Chairman
of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. “General Balchor is here today for an update to
project RE-AN, so that he can persuade the President to release more funding. I
am going to turn the presentation over to Jimmy Gaston since he is heading up
the project.”

“Thank You Ross. Ladies and Gentlemen, General, I
will keep this as concise as possible. Project RE-AN is proceeding on schedule,
we have successfully conducted isolation on what we believe to be the primary
vector strain of the DNA, and are prepared to begin trials on laboratory
subjects. As everyone here knows, security is the most important phase of the
laboratory trials. We are probably one week away from final selection of the
security team. Secondary background checks are being initiated…”

“Excuse me Mr. Gaston,” General Balchor interrupts,
“I know a thing or two about security and security clearances. Don’t you think
running secondary background checks on Secret Service Agents, Navy SEALS,
Marine Snipers and Air Force One reserve pilots is a little bit redundant and more
to the point, a waste of tax payer’s money?”

“General, with all due respect, what we are dealing
with has the potential to change all mankind; I do not think that we can be too
cautious when it comes to security.” Jimmy pauses for dramatic effect. “Now, as
I was saying, we hope to have the security team in place by late next week.
After that, we will arrange for the transfer of the test subjects and begin
phase one of testing. The encrypted dossier on each of your computers will be
available for review up to one hour after the meeting adjourns. It should give
you a general idea of the clinical timeline we hope to achieve during phase
one. Are there any questions? Yes, General.”

“Aw hell Jimmy, sorry about busting your balls over
security, I should know better. My boss would like to know what percentage of Specimen
Zulu is being utilized for phase one and more specifically what piece?” (Specimen
Zulu is the declassified codename for Specimen Benin-Nzambi-001.)

Jimmy graduated from West Point with Mike Balchor,
so he knew that the security dig was coming from the White House, not him.
“Mike, there is approximately 95% of Specimen Zulu still intact at the storage
facility. It was decided to utilize 5% for testing purposes, we chose the left
hand, and four researchers were given a digit. The remainder of the hand is
being kept onsite, in auxiliary storage.”

Actually, that was not 100% true, but then even Mike
only had so much ‘need to know’. The thumb was actually severed from the hand,
separated at the knuckle joint and suspended in cryogenic animation. Each
section is stored inside small cryogenic storage freezers located in Jimmy and
Ross’s offices. It was Ross’s idea; he called it a job security blanket, just
in case the White House ever decided to deny access to Specimen Zulu.

Mike walks Jimmy back to his office after the
meeting. “Again, sorry about the security crack Jimmy.”

“No hard feelings Mike, I know who you work for.”
They both laugh.

“You want to go grab something to eat?”

“I would love to Mike, but I had a terrible headache
when I came in this morning, only reason I didn’t bail was because of the
meeting. I am going to go home. Stop up next week, we will get together and have
a celebratory drink, if all goes well.”

“Jimmy, listen. You have to make sure everything
goes well. I am hearing scuttlebutt that funding is becoming an issue. You have
to show some progress, or I am afraid that you are going to get cut off.”

“Thanks for the heads up Mike, see you next week.”

“I am sorry honey; it is a business dinner, work
thing, you know.” Jimmy is explaining (lying) to Julie why he has to go out.
“You like Mrs. Fenton, and you like pizza, so what is the big deal?”

“I don’t know; something just doesn’t seem right.”
Julie answers. “Who are you meeting with?”

“Julie, I don’t have time for twenty questions, I
will be back by ten at the latest, see you then.” He kisses her on the forehead
and walks out of her room.

Julie knows her Dad is not telling her the whole
truth. She is sure it is a business dinner, but her dad is not meeting with
anyone from work. She reaches under her pillow and pulls out the crumpled
letter. She wonders if her dad is meeting somebody from the insurance company.
She folds the letter up and puts it back under her pillow. She has decided that
if he doesn’t tell her about it before he says goodnight that she will show him
the letter. Of course then he will know that she has been out of her bed and
downstairs, which would blow her cover; a risk she is willing to take.

“Thanks again Mrs. Fenton, I will be back by ten.”
Jimmy says as he walks out the front door toward his car. He pulls out of the
driveway, and heads toward Farachis.

As he pulls up in front of Farachis; a valet meets
him and trades a ticket stub for his car keys. He walks up to the front
entrance, and reads the printed sign taped to the door,
Closed for Private
Function
. He tries the door, but finds it locked.
Shit, why the hell did
the valet take my car if he knew the restaurant was closed?
He gets his
answer a second later when the valet reappears. “Go down the alley, around back
to the loading dock, someone will meet you.”

Jimmy walks down the alley, cautiously, to the back
of the restaurant; a tall man in a suit is standing at the end of the alley.

“Mr. Gaston, so glad you could make it. Jacob Smitz
at your service; we spoke this morning. Please come on in, the first course
should just be arriving.”

Jimmy follows Jacob into Farachis. They walk through
the kitchen, past the bar out into the main dining area. The room is empty,
except for one man sitting at a round table sucking oysters out of the half
shell. He calls them over to join him. Jacob stops halfway, “have a pleasant
meal Mr. Gaston.”

The man at the table looks up, and points to the
only other chair at the table. “Have a seat Mr. Gaston. May I call you Jimmy?” Jimmy
just nods. “I am glad you came, hopefully I can help you and your daughter out
of this predicament you are in.”

“Look, I do not know who you are, but obviously you
have some kind of clout to get Farachis all to yourself on a Friday night. I
only came to tell you that I am not interested in whatever you are selling. No
disrespect, but no thank you.” Jimmy gets up from the chair.

“Jimmy, please, sit back down. Have something to eat
and let me talk. What harm is there in eating a good meal and listening to a
lucrative proposal?”

Reluctantly, Jimmy sits back down. Out of nowhere a
waiter appears and places a plate of steaming pasta in front of him. Just as
quickly, the waiter is gone.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I prefer anonymity. I am
not sure if you know who I am or not, but I do not intend to introduce myself.
Just call me Mr. V. First of all, I know all about project RE-AN. I know what
it is, what you are trying to do, and most importantly I know about Specimen Zulu.”

Jimmy is in shock. Project RE-AN is classified Top
Secret. That means that nobody, not Jimmy, not Ross, not even the President knows
everything about it. That is the purpose of layered security; each person only
knows enough to do his or her own part.

Mr. V smiles. “Surprised? Don’t be. I am like an
octopus, a hand stirring every pot. Now, I believe my associate gave you a
price, which is not negotiable, so now I will tell you what I am interested in
buying. You may think I want your notes, or some classified documents…nothing
that complicated. I just want the piece of severed thumb that is in the
cryogenic freezer in your office.”

Jimmy drops his fork and tries to get up from the
table. A firm hand on his shoulder helps him back to his seat.

“Thank you Bobby, but I think we will be fine now,
right Jimmy?”

Jimmy nods in agreement, and once again is alone
with his host. “How can you possibly know about the thumb?”

Mr. V just smiles again. “Jimmy, just hear me out.
And please do not give me any of this I love my country bullshit. Has your
country ever loved you back? I know exactly who you love…you love your
daughter, and she is dying right in front of your eyes, so you decide do you
want to love your country and go to your daughters funeral, or do you want to
make a deal?”

“Even if I wanted to, there is no way I could get it
out of the facility, the security is relentless. Look, I do not think you have
done your homework here.” Mr. V just laughs. He reaches into his pocket and
tosses something, a small shiny package, on the table. Jimmy picks it up, and
looks at Mr. V.

Jimmy shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t get it.”

“And they told me you were smart. Let me give you
the rundown. Now what I know is that a cryogenically frozen thumb will remain
completely stable one hour after being removed from the freezer. I also know
that nothing that isn’t organic is going to make it past the security scans. So
let me tell you how you are going to get that thumb out of your office, and
back into this portable freezer in under an hour.” Mr. V places a cylinder,
which resembled a soda can, on the table.

Jimmy picks up the can and smiles. “Didn’t I see a
guy use something like this in a movie? I don’t like how it ended for that
guy.”

“That was a movie, this is real. Now wipe that smile
off your face and listen up or you will end up like the guy in the movie.”

Jimmy listens in absolute amazement as Mr. V lays
out his plan. It is actually ingenious. Obviously, whoever this Mr. V is, he
has someone deep inside Syscorp; probably more than one person based on the
details he has.

Jimmy leaves Farachis in awe. After almost 25 years
in the business, thinking he knew all there was to know about security, Mr. V
blew that theory out of the water. Mr. V indicated that he wanted an answer
before Monday. If the answer was yes, he was to go to a Mom and Pop ice cream
stand, Creamers, across town, and ask for an Italian ice. He was to say that
Mr. V recommended the place. He would be given a package with instructions, and
a down payment of $250,000 in cash. If the answer was no, he was to do nothing.
He decided to make one stop on the way home; he wanted to check out the ice
cream stand. He got Julie two scoops of her favorite and went home to face the
inquisition.

The digital dashboard clock reads 9:56pm when he
pulls into the driveway; one promise kept. He thanks Mrs. Fenton, pays her and
sends her on her way. He transfers the pistachio ice cream into a serving dish
and drizzles it with chocolate sauce. Before he leaves the kitchen he opens the
cabinet above the refrigerator, takes out a bottle of bourbon and swallows a
deep draw of liquid courage.

“I brought my favorite girl her favorite treat.” He
says walking into bedroom.

“Bribery, huh? Well, this outta be good.” Julie
smirks as she sits up and reaches for the ice cream.

“Listen Jules, I got something I need to talk to you
about. Something I’ve been putting off.” Julie puts the spoon down. “I heard
from the hospital, they found a donor, the procedure could be scheduled as
early as next week.”

Julie smiled, “Ya, but?”

“Ya, but what?”

“Come on Dad, if there wasn’t going to be a ya, but;
then there wouldn’t be any ice cream. So give it to me straight.”

“You are too smart for a little girl. Ya, but the
insurance company needs the co-payment before the surgery, $250,000.”

Julie picked the spoon back up. “So, there will be
another donor. I am sure that there is someone who needs the kidney more than I
do anyway.”

This is why Jimmy loves her so much. “Why am I not
surprised to hear you say that? There may never be another donor with two
kidneys that are a perfect match. No sweetheart, this is it.” He moves closer to
her on the bed. “That is what my meeting was about tonight. I have an
opportunity to make some money, enough to pay for your surgery, and then some.”

“Doing what? You are not going to have to work more,
are you? I mean…Daddy you look so tired. I can wait.” She begins to cry. Jimmy joins
her.

“Not this time. No more waiting. You do not have to
worry about anything; I am going to take care of everything.” He made up his
mind right then, he was going through with it, to hell with his country; he
wants to see his daughter blow out the candles on her 12
^th
birthday
cake.

Saturday came and went. Jimmy got up early Sunday
morning and made breakfast, pancakes and sausage, for him and Julie. He carried
Julie downstairs to the dining room and they sat and talked away most of the
morning while eating. Julie is none too happy to learn that she is going to be
flying to California to have the surgery. Jimmy does his best to explain that
the medical facility in Los Angeles is the best in the country.

He is just finishing up the dishes, and draining the
last of the coffee when Julie calls him back into the dining room.

“Daddy, how are you going to get the money for my
operation? What do you have to do?”

He sits down across the table from her. “Listen
Jules, you don’t have to worry about it. I’m a pretty smart guy, and I got it
all figured out. I might even retire, we can move down to Florida, maybe out to
California.”

“OK Daddy, but not California, too many weirdoes out
there. It is bad enough that I have to go there for the surgery, I don’t want
to live there!”

Jimmy laughs. “Ok, let’s get you back upstairs, I
have to run a few errands. Will you be alright, or should I call Mrs. Fenton?”

“I will be fine; just don’t be gone all day!”

Jimmy leaves the house and begins to drive back to
Creamers. His cell phone rings, he looks at the caller ID, expecting it to be
Julie, it is Ross. “Hello.”

“Jimmy, sorry to bug you on a Sunday, I tried the
house and Julie said you were out; everything ok with Julie?”

“Ross everything is fine. I am just running some
errands. What can I do for you?” Jimmy thinks to himself that it is very
strange to hear from Ross like this.

“Jimmy there has been some timeline changes,
adjustments. I can’t really elaborate more than that, you understand why.
Anyway, we need to review the final reports on the security team and make our
decision by 8 a.m. tomorrow; that means we have to get together today. Jimmy I
am sorry, I know the last thing you want to do is work on a Sunday, I promise
to have you home for dinner.”

“Ross, I have to take care of something, and then I
will be right in, probably in about an hour, maybe ninety minutes. I’ll call
Julie and break the news, see you in a bit.”

He is just finishing talking to Julie as he pulls
into the parking lot at Creamers. His plan was to take her back a pint of
pistachio, so much for that. He waits until a young couple places and gets
their order before he gets out of the car to approach the window.

“Hello there, what can I get you? Hey wait a minute,
two scoops of pistachio, right?”

“Excuse me?”

“You were just here night before last, right? Two
scoops of pistachio in a cup.”

“I am sorry; you must have me confused with someone
else. I have not been here before today.” Jimmy doesn’t know why he just lied
to the old man; it just seemed like the thing to do.

“Strange, I almost never forget a face. Well, what
can I get for you?”

“A friend of mine told me you have the best homemade
Italian ice, let me get one of those.”

“Sure thing, what flavor?”

“I don’t know, Mr. V didn’t specify a flavor.”

The old man sticks his head out the window and looks
around. He pulls his head back in, “the specialty of the house is a rainbow,
give me a minute to make it.” He disappears into the back of the store. When he
returns he hands Jimmy an overstuffed manila envelope, and a rainbow ice in a
cup.”

Jimmy gets back into the car, sets the cup on the
console and opens up the envelope. Inside is a $250,000, a key and a piece of
paper. The paper has five words typed on it;
Bus
Station, 5
^th
and Liberty
. Jimmy takes a closer look at
the key and notices that it is for a locker, locker number 912. He pulls out of
the parking lot, tosses the Italian ice out the window, and drives toward
Syscorp.

His cell phone rings, unknown caller. “Hello.”

“Jimmy, Jacob Smitz here, how are you? Listen I
can’t talk long, just wanted to congratulate you and welcome you to the team.
Once you fill the can, use the key. Just lock it back up, and drop the key in
the trash can outside the station. The balance is already waiting for you
inside the locker. Oh, and Jimmy, our timeline has been moved up, make the drop
by tomorrow night, understand?”

“What, tomorrow night, are you nuts?”

“Gotta go Jimmy, tomorrow night it is, see ya.”

He drives up to the gate, waves to Ralph –
does
this guy ever get a day off
—and pulls into his spot. He gets out of his
car, and steps on the moving sidewalk. Ross is waiting for him on the other
side of the x-ray belt.

“Jimmy thanks so much for coming in. General Balchor
is already here too.”

“What, Mike is here? Ross what is going on?”

“Downstairs Jimmy, I will explain it all
downstairs.”