Asylum Page 39

  Langheim considers himself to be the only true genius of the group. The others were focused on projects to develop new types of energy and new weapons, whereas Langheim was always working on the human body. When he was forced to flee Berlin, he was close to making a breakthrough on two key technologies: he had the prototype for a new chemical that could aid the body in regenerating and healing wounds rapidly, and he was preparing to carry out the world's first transplant of a living brain from one body to another. He's convinced that his work was going in the right direction, and he's certain that he'll eventually manage to perfect not only these techniques, but also others. If he'd been able to work faster, he might even have changed the course of the war, handing victory to the Germans. As things stand, however, he consoles himself with the thought that he will at least be recognized as a great scientist. One day, the world will understand his work.

  Walking quickly, Langheim hurries away from the village, heading into the forest. He knows that soon the dead American will be found, and a search will be made of the whole area. The other Nazi scientists will be quickly found, which means the Allies will be busy processing them. For Langheim, this means an opportunity to escape. He plans to go first to South America, where he believes he can find many sympathetic allies, but his ultimate aim is to reach the United States. He wants to conduct his experiments in a country that has the latest scientific equipment, not in some South American backwater. He already has the connections needed to get most of the way, and he's confident that he can complete the journey without being caught. Smiling as he makes his way through the forest, he senses that he might finally be able to escape from the Allies and find somewhere else that will allow him to complete his work. He's absolutely certain that one day, he'll be considered a genius, and the world will bow down before his achievements.

  Prologue 2

  Lakehurst Psychiatric Hospital - Six months ago.

  Every time Nurse Kirsten Winter comes down to the basement, I feel... uncomfortable. Like, deeply, deeply uncomfortable. There's just something about her that makes me worry something really bad's about to happen. Added to that, there's the fact that I dream about her every night, and the dream is always the same: we're in bed, making love, and eventually she tells me she loves me. I always wake up with this sad, deflated feeling. The weirdest part of the whole thing is that sometimes I feel like she knows about my dreams. The way she looks at me, it's as if she understands my deepest thoughts. Today, for example, she's come to the basement to see the latest developments in my work, and the way she looks at me is kind of seductive. Maybe it's just her way of trying to exert power over me, in which case... well, it's working.

  "I have to tell you, Jerry," she says after I've been fiddling with buttons and dials on the machine for a few minutes, "that so far, I'm not very impressed."

  "You know whose fault this is, don't you?" I say. Cupping my hand over the microphone, I sigh. The whole set-up down here is ridiculous. All this old, faded equipment is a nightmare. How can we expect to get decent results when we're using transmitters and receivers that would have looked out-of-date during the Nixon administration? Seriously, I found a spider's nest in one of the antenna boxes the other day.

  "Stop blaming people," she replies. "It's a very unattractive quality, Jerry." She sits next to me and reaches out, adjusting one of the dials.

  "Don't do that!" I say, pushing her hand away. "You don't know what any of this stuff does," I add. "You hired me to be in charge down here, so let me be in charge."

  She stares at me for a moment, a slight smile forming on her lips. "Has anyone ever told you that you seem quite different when you're angry, Jerry? Less like a boy and more like a man. It's something you should try more often." She pauses for a moment. "What were you doing up near my office earlier? Did anyone see you?"

  "It's okay," I say, reassuring her. "I only came to tell you that it's starting." I tap the top of the transmitter. "The signal is out there."

  "You're ahead of schedule," she replies. "Are you sure you're not rushing things?"

  "It can't be stopped," I tell her. "The signal marks the start."

  "Fine," she replies. "Clue me in. How far's the range?"

  "It's clear for miles," I reply, watching as she picks up a dynamometer from the workbench. "Wait a moment. Julia, put that down." I grab the dynamometer from her and put it out of her reach.

  "Julia?" she says, frowning. "Are you okay, Jerry? Why did you call me Julia?"

  "Ignore that," I say. Damn it, what's wrong with me? I need to keep focused, to keep my different work compartmentalized. I've probably just blown the whole thing now. If this bitch gets any idea about the stuff I'm doing in another part of the basement, there'll be trouble. I turn a few dials, causing some more static to blast over the speaker. And she needs to stop pretending she doesn't know who Julia is...

  "What are you doing?" she asks.

  "There was interference," I say. "It's the end, anyway. The transmission is already into its second cycle. Three should be enough."

  "I thought you had something important to show me," Nurse Winter says, sighing. "I'm busy, Jerry. There's a lot of stuff happening, and I don't have time to help you play with your knobs." She pauses, smiling. "After all, when was the last time you repaid the favor? I help you with your knobs, but when was the last time you turned with my dials?"

  "You don't understand," I say, getting frustrated. "You don't get it. You don't realize what's happening, do you?"

  "Why don't you explain it to me?" she says. "Like I'm a fucking idiot, Jerry. Talk to me like I'm a baby."

  I sigh. "The range we've achieved here is unlike anything we've ever managed before. I'm picking up a receiver hundreds and hundreds of miles to the west. This is unprecedented." I pick up a second microphone and get busy adjusting the wires that link it to the machine. "This could be huge," I add. Sometimes I wish I had an equal, someone who understood the technology I'm talking about. Unfortunately, there's only one other person at Lakehurst who fits that description, and he's not exactly chatty. He just sends notes occasionally, from his room up in the attic.

  "So when you said we're into the second cycle..." she says, before her voice trails off. "What exactly does that mean?"

  "The second cycle is locked down," I point out. Jesus, why doesn't she understand? It all makes total sense. You just have to look at the schematics, at the various cables running between the machines, to understand what's going on here. I check the read-out on my laptop. "This is no good," I say. "The packets are getting scrambled."

  She sighs, grabbing the second microphone. "Is this even working?" she asks, before leaning close to it. "We need to be able to see the other end."

  "Well, we can't," I say. "Not yet. Maybe with the third cycle."

  "Isn't that unethical?" she asks, grinning.

  "This whole fucking thing is unethical," I say, laughing. I point at the transponder. "Turn it up full," I say. "Replace the signal."

  She turns the dial. "I love it when you talk dirty, Jerry," she says quietly.

  Slowly, the levels start to rise. If we're lucky, we might get a visual transmission as well as audio. It's a long-shot, but I guess now's as good a time as any to give it a go. Even if we fail, there should be plenty of data. If the signal can get over forty, maybe fifty units, there's a chance we can generate a visual image packet that will cover the distance. If we do that, we're home and dry. This is what we've been working toward for so long, and now it genuinely feels as if we're on the cusp of a breakthrough. Suddenly I'm struck by a shocking thought: what happens once we've done it? What do we do then? My whole life has been about this project. What the hell do I do if we succeed and it's all over?

  "I'll tell you something, Jerry," she says. "If you manage this... I mean, if you really get it all up and running properly, I'll give you something very special as a reward."

  I turn to her.

  "Something you've always wanted," she continues, parting her legs a little
. "Something you've come so close to, but never quite been able to touch."

  "No kidding," I say, trying not to let her see that I want it.

  "Only if you get the machine working properly, though," she continues, pushing her knees back together. She smiles. "You have to really earn it."

  For a moment, all I can think about is finally getting her into bed, but suddenly there's a beeping sound from my laptop. I turn and see that one of the other programs is showing spiked readings.

  "What's wrong?" she asks.

  "Wait," I say. "The signal's all over the place." Something's interfering, but it takes me a moment to realize the root cause of the problem. "It's Julia," I say eventually. "She's phasing in and out. This is all wrong." I pause, realizing I've said too much. Quickly turning the laptop so that Nurse Winter won't be able to see it, I check Julia's readings. She's experiencing some kind of trauma. Damn it, why does this have to happen now, at the one moment when I can't do anything about it?

  "Where's my brother?" says a voice suddenly, coming over the radio. I turn to look at the speaker, shocked. It was a female voice, filled with static. I feel my blood start to run cold.

  "What the fuck was that?" asks Nurse Winter.

  "Shit," I say, checking the dials. Julia's surge must have affected the system somehow. "Is this thing two-way?" I ask, thinking out loud. "Fuck." I pull a few leads out from the machine, and the AM frequency shifts along a different positronic relay route. "That should be better," I say.

  "Could someone hear us?" Nurse Winter says.

  "I don't know," I say. "Maybe. That wasn't the plan, but like I said, this stuff is experimental."

  "I want to know where the receiver is," she continues, her voice suddenly filled with concern. "I want to know exactly where this signal is being picked up. Right now."

  "It'll take a while to triangulate," I say. "Give me a moment." I open up a mapping system and feed in the data. The system churns the figures for a while before giving me a GPS co-ordinate, which I feed into another system and finally I get an image on the screen. "Huh," I say. "How about that?"

  "How about what?" Nurse Winter asks, leaning close to me. I can smell her perfume. "Where is it?"

  "A forest, two hundred and eighty-seven miles away in -" The screen flickers. "Fuck it, this machine is ancient."

  "A poor workman always blames his tools," she says.

  I turn to her. "Well I guess I'm your tool, huh? 'Cause you always blame me when things go wrong, instead of recognizing that there are limitations with this pile of shit equipment you keep giving me."

  "There's nothing wrong with the equipment," she says.

  "Bullshit," I reply, pushing her out of the way as I lean over and flick some more switches. "Do you know what that dial means?" I ask. "Seriously. It's been twitching for a while now." I pause for a moment. "I don't remember what it means," I continue, "but it definitely means something. Can you look it up? Oh no, you can't, I forgot. You'll just have to trust me. Relax." I turn the dial up to full. "I know what I'm doing. I'm the only one here who does."

  "This feels chaotic," she says.

  "Who are you talking to?" shouts a static-filled female voice from the speaker.

  "Who is that?" Nurse Winter says, looking concerned.

  "Shut up!" I shout at her. "She can hear us. I can hear her too, on the AM frequencies. Listen." We sit in silence for a moment, but it's impossible to make anything out. I lean closer to the microphone. "Can you hear me?" I ask.

  There's nothing but static.

  "Is there anybody there?" I continue.

  More static, and then the girl's voice comes through the speaker again. "Who are you?" she shouts. She sounds upset.

  "Who the fuck is she?" Nurse Winter says.

  "Stop that!" the female voice shouts. I turn the transmitter up to full power, hoping to overload whatever receiving system she's using. "Get out!" she shouts, her voice sounding scrambled. "Get out of my head!" I reach out to turn the transmitter back down, but Kirsten pushes my hand away.

  "These readings are totally wrong," I say, but Nurse Winter keeps my hand firmly away from the dials. "We have to stop this now and work out what's gone wrong. Don't you realize how much damage we could be causing here?"

  "Just a moment longer," Nurse Winter says.

  "Stop it!" the female voice screams from the speaker.

  I pull my hand away from Nurse Winter and hit the power-down button. The machine starts to go offline. "There's some residual," I say. "Should be another minute or two. The machine will return to a resting state and then we can work out what went wrong."

  "I never pegged you as a pussy," Nurse Winter says.

  "Fuck you," I reply, checking all the readings. "It should have shut off by now," I say. "Take a look. It's like there's some kind of residual energy loop. I don't get it at all. Not one fucking bit."

  "Who cares?" Nurse Winter replies, grinning. "This is exciting."

  Suddenly a gunshot blasts out from the speaker. Moments later, the signal goes dead.

  "What the fuck was that?" I say, stunned.

  "I have no idea," Nurse Winter says, smiling, "but I think we just achieved something rather interesting, Jerry." She stands up. "I trust you'll be able to deliver a report within the next couple of days, outlining what happened and where we go from here?"

  I take a deep breath. "Yeah," I say flatly.

  "Any more progress," she says, "and I might just be ready to give you your bonus for being such a smart guy." She leans down and kisses my neck, before turning and walking over to the elevator.

  "Where are you going?" I ask.

  "I'm going to check upstairs," she says, "and then I'm going to see if I can find out what we just heard. Someone hundreds of miles away just shot someone, and I think it'd be in our best interests if we keep on top of things, don't you?" She pauses for a moment. "Whoever that girl was on the other end of the transmission, I need to get her here. I need to bring her to Lakehurst somehow."

  Once she's gone, I double-check the machine. I still don't understand exactly what just happened, but at least we're making advances. Frankly, there's a part of me that wants to just switch everything off, destroy all the work we've done, and run from Lakehurst as fast as I can. This was fun when it was abstract, but now that we're getting close to the truth, I'm seriously concerned about the consequences of our work. There are some things that just shouldn't be allowed to happen. Usually, when scientists talk about ethical issues, I laugh, but this time I'm starting to understand what they mean. If this machine is fine-tuned and gets up and running properly, it could change the world. That's fine, I have no problem with that. But I'm not sure Kirsten Winter and her boss are the kind of people who should have so much power. I've thought for a while that there's going to come a time when I have to make a decision about whether these experiments should continue. I think that time might have just arrived.

  Part I

  Jerry

  Today.

  Wire goes in, wire comes out.

  Wire goes in, wire comes out.

  Wire goes in, wire -

  Fuck it...

  Something buzzes in the distance. Great. Barely a day goes by when something doesn't go wrong at this place. I swear to God, Lakehurst is falling apart faster than I can patch everything back together. There's no money in the budget for repairs to the crumbling old building; every cent goes into research projects. It's not the most efficient way of running things, and if I was in charge I'd immediately launch a six month period of proper renovations, but that's not Nurse Winter's style and nobody listens to me. I'm just Jerry, the mad guy in the basement. My job is to fix things when the wiring blows, or perform miracles when the old computers stop working. Sure, the doctors and nurses up on the ward are the ones who get all the glory, but they're not the ones who keep the place running.

  Setting down the wire that I've been carefully threading into a series of openings in the transducer, I head through to the main laboratory. T
he buzzing sound is coming from one of the laptops in the corner. Taking a look at the screen, I try to make sense of the readings. Something's causing the buzzer to go off, but I'm damned if I know what. There are more than ten thousand wire connections down here, each of them vitally important. In theory, this laptop is supposed to monitor them all and let me know if there's a problem; however, it's also supposed to tell me where the problem is, so I can fix it. Finally, after checking a few of the most obvious possibilities, I have a brainwave and go back over to the laptop. I pick up the buzzer that's connected to the back of the machine, and I disconnect it. The buzzing stops. Problem solved. Unless there's any evidence to the contrary, I'll just assume that the problem was caused by a faulty buzzer.

  Sometimes my job's pretty easy. Sometimes I just hit things until they start working properly. The irony is, that's kind of how Nurse Winter deals with her patients too...

  I head back through to finish my work with the transducer. It's dull, repetitive work that's likely going to take me half the day, but it's better than being up on the ward where all the psychotic assholes spend their time. I'm talking, of course, about the staff. The patients here at Lakehurst are kind of okay, even if that's because most of them are drugged out of their minds. The staff, though, can be a nightmare. It's like someone decided to gather together the most fucked-up mental healthcare professionals in the world, and put them together in one place, just for a laugh. That's not even including the guy in the attic. Whatever the fuck his problem is, I stay well away from him. I'm just the dogsbody down here, getting on with the hard work. On the off-chance that these machines one day produce a development that merits the Nobel Prize or something like that, I sure as hell won't be invited to receive a medal. I'll just get a small bonus, and a letter of recommendation, and then I'll have to find another job.

  Not that getting out of here wouldn't be a good idea...