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“I THINK YOU ALL KNOW why we’re here tonight,” Frank began, studying the faces of each of the board members gathered at the conference table.
On Frank’s right, Marcus leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin, a picture of calm and surety, while the less than honorable William Fillmore sat stiff and ramrod straight beside him as if a ruler had replaced his spine. To Frank’s left slouched Philip Anderson, once a tough, Vikings Football hero, now an overweight drunk with a head of fake hair called a weave. At least he’d invested his money wisely enough, so he could afford to buy hair and a seat on the board of Howard Pharmaceuticals. Patricia Miller, a retired psychiatrist, and Clancy Tillman completed the table.
Frank was well aware that these men and woman, hesitant to begin with, were clearly uncomfortable with continued experimentation without sufficient proof that SensilineU40 would be worth the wait or the chance of prison time if things didn’t go well. Since Marcus was the only board member who knew the true nature of the drug and what they were trying to do, he was also the voice of reason when dissention broke out. But tonight, it would take more than reason. They needed results. Now.
Dr. Carl Devlin faced Frank from the opposite end of the rectangular table. He’d left his lab coat downstairs and sported a dark suit and open-collared blue shirt. His prematurely gray head made him appear older and wiser than Frank had ever thought he was, but Marcus had a lot of confidence in the man. Hopefully, tonight Marcus’ opinion would be justified.
“We’ve been in the testing stages with SensilineU40 for nearly seventeen years now and Dr. Devlin believes we are nearing completion.” There was a snort from Judge Fillmore, but Frank ignored it. “I know you are all worried about the amount of money that has been designated toward research, especially given the state of the economy. It’s been a long and winding road we’ve traveled together, with all of you brave enough to hold your personal opinions in check and chance something phenomenal happening. I know you will be very glad you did.” He waved a hand in the doctor’s direction, “Dr. Devlin, would you bring us up to date, please?”
Frank sat back in his chair and tried to look confident, but he had a bad case of heartburn and wished he could just go home and let Marion take care of him like she always did when he wasn’t well. Sixteen-hour days were starting to get to him.
Devlin nodded, a slight smile curved his lips. “SensilineU40 is our next wonder drug. Not only will it make the company exorbitant amounts of money, but it will also pave the way for more research and cures in the field of mental illness. The work that we have been doing behind closed lab doors, as it were, is unheard of in most companies, but this board has made possible the key to unlock the secrets of the mind. I thank you for this awesome responsibility and opportunity.”
He paused. “Our subjects have grown up with SensilineU40 in their blood system. They know nothing else. Physically, they are normal boys. Mentally, they are normal boys. But... as you can see in this graph I’ve brought with me,” he pushed a pile of papers toward Judge Fillmore, who took one and passed them on, “they are not normal. U40 has very markedly changed this center of the brain,” he pointed to the graph in his hand, “the Amygdala, a tiny but influential portion. Its main involvement is in producing a fear response or other negative emotions. Studies have been done on the Amygdala in regard to children with anger or violence problems. We believe it is also the area that harbors a precursor to mental illness.”
The board members glanced down at the copy in their hands trying to decipher the doctor’s markings. Frank wondered if anything Devlin said was even close to the truth. He picked up his copy and feigned interest, but his heartburn was worsening. He fished in his breast pocket for the antacid tablets he kept there.
Devlin moved to the projector, flipped the lights off and turned on the slideshow. A picture flashed on the white screen across the room and everyone turned in their chairs to better watch. Two young boys, tow-headed and thin, sat across from one another at a small table. They were each writing something in a notebook.
“Here are two of our subjects about six years ago. They naturally have similar inclinations, similar tastes, similar brain waves. The remarkable thing is they also have mirror emotions. If one cuts his arm, the other feels sharp pain. If one is angry, the other feels the same.”
“Well, of course,” Marcus interjected, “they’re twins.”
Devlin nodded. “Yes, some twins have been known to show phantom pain when their sibling is injured, but it isn’t the norm.”
“What does any of this have to do with Sensiline, or why we’re here?” Philip asked, his words softly slurred. He cradled his head on his palm. “Is this what our money has brought about? A drug to make twins more twin-like?”
“Be patient, Phil. We’ll be done soon, and I’ll take you out for a drink,” Marcus promised with a wink.
“Make it a double and I won’t say another word.”
Devlin began again. “Because they mirror emotions, they’re the perfect subjects. Many biological factors can contribute to a person’s emotional makeup. We just stacked the cards when we chose women who had already been diagnosed with mental illness. Instead of injecting both of the twins with SensilineU40, we only injected one of them. The other is drug free and is becoming hopelessly schizophrenic, just as his mother before him.” He clicked to the next slide. “As you can see from this brain imaging photo, subject number one has been cured of schizophrenia. His recent brain scan shows this portion of the brain,” he indicated the area with a laser pointer, “in shades of red for normal activity. Subject number two is projecting increasing signs of paranoid delusional behavior. He hears voices telling him things. His brain scan shows the emotion center lit up mostly in blue. This tells us that the activation patterns in his brain are not functioning correctly. He’ll soon be incapable of living a normal life.”
“What are you saying, Doc? You made another drug to keep mentally ill patients sedated? Big deal. There are a thousand pills on the market for that already. The streets are full of people who’ve gone off their meds. What makes this drug special?”
“It’s not a temporary fix. It’s a cure.”
Frank sucked in a breath and slowly released it. His chest felt like someone was squeezing it in a vice. He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing.
“A cure?” he heard Fillmore say in that condescending voice he used when he was a sitting judge. “If I understand this correctly, that boy has been on this cure for seventeen years. That’s an exorbitant amount of time. I don’t think consumers consider a cure to take quite that long.”
Devlin’s look would probably heat metal, but he answered calmly enough. “SensilineU40 has been changed many times over the years, as we learned more through psychological testing, etcetera. Which is what this program was all about.”
“I think... you should call 911,” Frank mumbled and collapsed against the table.
*****
“I TOLD YOU TO GO SEE the doctor,” Marion lectured, pulling the blanket up over his shoulders. “You were complaining for the past three days. All of this could have been avoided.”
Frank shoved the blanket back down even though his arms were cold. He didn’t need a nagging wife to tell him he’d been pushing it lately, working more hours than even a younger man would deem advisable.
“I’m fine,” he muttered and turned his head toward the machine beeping beside the bed. Right now, he was fine. The monitor kept tabs on his worn-out heart and would shrill like a banshee if he weren’t. Doctor Larson had told him surgery was definitely in his future and if he didn’t change his lifestyle he wouldn’t be around to worry about the company. But what did he know?
“You weren’t fine yesterday. You scared us all to death. Marcus was so flustered when he called, I hardly recognized his voice.” She patted his hand and smiled.
Frank inwardly cringed beneath her attention, knowing he didn’t deserve it. Marion had put up with a lot from him over the years. She took care of his needs, respected his authority even when she didn’t agree, which was most of the time, and loved him in spite of it all. Why she stayed with him for thirty-some years, he didn’t know. But right now, he was glad.
She’d been beside him last night too, until Marcus took her home so she could rest a while. Now, here she was back again, worrying about him as though he were worth it.
He noticed the way her fingers curved this morning, unable to straighten without pain. Her smile was bright and warm as always, but she was moving slower than usual.
“How’d you get here anyway? Take a taxi?” he asked, knowing she no longer felt comfortable driving.
“Oh no. I don’t understand a word those taxi drivers say. They’re all foreigners. How could they possibly find the hospital? Besides, I have Zander. He brought me.”
“Zander? Well, where is he?”
“Out in the hallway. He didn’t want to barge in. I told him it was all right, but he insisted on giving us a few moments alone.” Her eyes twinkled with laughter.
He waved his hand toward the door. “Get him in here. We’ve had our alone time. It’s not like we’re newlyweds or something.”
Marion laughed and bent to kiss his whisker-roughened cheek. “No one would ever guess that deep inside you’re a real softy.”
“Hmph. Hardly.”
She went to the door and motioned to Zander. The boy stepped inside the room but remained close to the door as though he might need to make a quick exit. He crossed his arms. “Hey, Uncle Frank. How do you feel?”
The question brought the worst out in Frank. “How do you think I feel, boy? I had a heart attack, not a tummy ache. I’m sure you and your dad were hoping I’d kick the bucket, so he could take over my company, but as you can see, I’m not stone-cold yet.”
Zander grinned and moved closer. “Yeah, Dad was pretty excited when he heard you collapsed. He thought about having the plaque on your door changed right away, but figured as mean as you are, it was probably premature.”
Marion stifled her laughter with a cough and excused herself from the room to get coffee.
Zander sank into the chair by the bed. “I guess it must suck to get old, huh?”
Frank realized the boy had finally figured him out. He was giving as good as he got. “More than you know.”
“You aren’t going to live forever.” Zander’s grin disappeared, and his face became impassive. He leaned forward and held Frank’s gaze. “You might as well come clean now before it’s too late. How many others are there besides me?”
Frank looked toward the door, hoping Marion would return and divert this conversation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course, you do. We both know your company is illegally experimenting on children, and I’m the living proof. What if I go to the authorities and tell them? Do you think Aunt Marion would stick by you if she knew?”
“Are you trying to blackmail me, son?”
Zander didn’t reply. He just looked at him.
“Maybe you should talk to Daddy about this. He’s not an innocent bystander, you know. Would you want him to spend the rest of his life in prison?”
The boy flinched. “The punishment should fit the crime. As far as I can tell, my dad has been paying for a long time. You, on the other hand, have yet to show remorse. What makes a man so hard and uncaring?”
“Life. Once you’ve lived a little you might feel the same.” Frank wanted to look away but found his gaze linked with the boy’s in a tug of wills. Zander was a smart kid. Probably smarter than any of them really knew. He definitely had Devlin snowed. The man resented the fact that the boy was not conceived in a test tube like the others. He seemed to think the twins were far superior in their abilities. But according to a private conversation he’d had with Dr Kapoor recently, Zander held back his true potential. His great-nephew was the star of the show.
Zander released a quiet sigh. “I’ve carried the feelings of the world around for so long. Sometimes I wish I’d never been born. But no matter what I do I can’t stop caring. Do you know what I mean, Uncle Frank?”
“No.” The word came out as a croak. He cleared his throat. “My brother was the caring one. Your grandfather. He said we were like two peas in a pod, except God had set him free and I was still stuck inside the world’s shell. I’m not sure what he meant. I always thought he was weak, tied to the crutch of religion...now...I don’t know.” He closed his eyes and tried to relax against the pillow. He’d give a lot for a nice Cuban cigar right about now.
“I wish I could have known him. I know he wasn’t really my grandfather, but I think I would have liked him.”
“Everybody liked him. Even me,” Frank admitted, eyes closed.
“Am I the only one?’
The sudden change of subject was tactical. He could tell the boy thought he was pulling one over on his old uncle in a moment of weakness. He opened his eyes and grinned. “You’re pretty clever, but you can’t trick the old man. You know I can’t tell you anything. I’ve grown very fond of you, Zander, but you’re still the property of Howard Pharmaceuticals.”
“I’m not anyone’s property. And I warn you now that my abilities will never be for sale.” He stood up and took Frank’s hand in his. “Your feelings betray you. You do care.”
“What are you—Yoda?”
Marion pushed through the door with two Styrofoam cups of coffee. “I had to go down two floors and wander for ten minutes before someone was kind enough to point me in the right direction. Would you like some coffee, Zander?”
“Thanks.” He took the proffered cup. “I think I’ll take a walk.”
Marion watched him leave the room then turned toward Frank, a frown creasing her forehead. “What did you say to him?” she demanded.
*****
A SLOW SMILE STRETCHED across Zander’s face after he let the door swing shut behind him. Uncle Frank might be closed-minded about some things, but he couldn’t shut off his thoughts. Not to him. Not anymore. They didn’t know how far he’d progressed, what he was really capable of.
He took the cup of coffee and tossed it in the nearest receptacle. He wasn’t the only pawn. There were two more just like him—twins. He couldn’t remember ever seeing twins around the lab even when he was a little boy. For some reason Devlin wanted no contact between subjects. Well, that would change soon enough.
His dad had inadvertently let another little secret out of the bag the other night, after the bridge accident and Dr Kapoor picked him up at the hospital. His dad’s thoughts reflected the past, revealing a fact Zander had not known until then. He had been born in this very hospital. Certainly, his birth records would be here, some sign that he existed other than as a lab rat for Howard Pharmaceutical.
He stopped a nurse to ask directions. She sent him to the fourth floor. He entered the elevator, impatience like a live current snapping through his veins. When the doors opened, he was the first one out. Sixteen years had gone by, but surely someone still worked here from that time. Someone who might remember a woman who died after giving birth to a baby boy. Someone who could tell him where he came from.