Cellular Activity- The Djinn Read online

  Ivanov focuses the eye on both, thoughtfully, as if to consider what to say and what to keep to himself. «During the last winter, Pyotr, our radio operator, caught a message from the American camp. The communication was mostly incomprehensible due to statics and interference, but the voice seemed troubled, and it really looked like a kind of SOS. Then nothing, complete silence. The polar winter and the storms made it impossible to communicate anymore and there was no way to investigate further. To be honest I had not thought of that episode anymore. After the discovery of the woman I remembered it, so, two days ago, I sent Andre and Sergei to take a look at the American base...»

  Alexander Ivanov awaits for a while, putting his papers in a folder, aware that the eyes of the two interlocutors are on him. «It's gone, just like the Norwegian site. We're going there right now. We have to see what happened. If there is even the slightest possibility that the story of the woman is true, we must hasten to also inspect the remains of the US base, before their rescue team reaches it.»

  The heavy helicopter touches the ground, a few dozen meters from the area that, not more than a few months ago, hosted the US research complex. The burned fragment of a small tattered sign still says "...OST # 31".

  The soldiers, bundled up in heavy white suits, haste to come out, bringing bulky backpacks and large bags containing various equipment.

  The three scientists move forward, leading the column of armed soldiers into what once was the center of the outpost.

  Ivanov stops the group with a wave of his hand, after walking about thirty meters. The men look at the place all around. «It's obvious that something strange happened, perhaps an accident», he says, pointing to the many remains of charred wood protruding from the ground. «The site has been burned to ashes and the snowstorms buried and dispersed almost everything that survived the fire.» Then he turns to one of the soldiers next to him, «Comrade Captain Pavlov, begin the inspection of the entire area. Your men should just look for any evidence, without touching anything. Let me know if they find anything strange. Call me immediately if you find corpses, and don't let anybody approach them.»

  The soldiers split up at a court order of the group leader, and they begin the inspection.

  «Captain, one more thing: make sure that everyone is always in plain sight, no one must remain isolated.»

  Arsentiev and Dmitriev share a questioning look. The boy shrugs then prepares to set up a small camera taken out from his briefcase. A few moments later he begins to film an overview of the site.

  Eve Arsentiev's look, the only woman in the group, is now worried. Instinctively she shrugs, while a shiver runs down her spine. She is the only one to call Ivanov by name. «Alexander, about the writing of that woman... What happened at the Swed... Norwegian camp, do you think it might be connected with this in some way?»

  The man slowly shakes his head, unsure. His gaze is away, lost in thoughts. «I don't know, Eva. I hope not, but I wouldn't rule out any hypothesis.»

  A sharp voice breaks the silence after a while. One of the soldiers shouts from somewhere behind a snowdrift. Others flock, struggling on the soft snow layer, not more than one day old. The scene before their eyes seems grotesque and improbable, as just the sudden and unexpected encounter with death can be.

  Two figures emerge from the white ground, half way through. Soldiers equipped with shovels are already working to carefully remove the snow that partly covers them.

  The frozen bodies of two men emerge slowly from the white. They're sitting facing each other, one still clutching a bottle of J&B.

  «It seems they are the only visible corpses in the area, sir. We can't exclude that there are others buried in the snow.» Reports one of the soldiers. Ivanov dismisses them with a nod.

  «They stood here, freezing to death...» Eve's voice sounds full of anguish while viewing the details of one of the two corpses: a white man, bearded, with his face covered by a thin layer of tiny ice crystals, his lips blackened and his eyes half-closed as in the act of focusing a view faded out since many months. His eyes' expression is that of one concentrated on watching carefully the man sitting across him.

  Yuri Dmitriev actually points to the latter, a black man, whose head is partly covered by the hood of his parka. He also has open eyes, pointed at the other man. «That one was armed. There, can you see? It seems a flamethrower... and it's like he was pointing it at the other.»

  Ivanov crouches near the white man, removing the snow and quickly revealing his other hand that was still hidden. A revolver is in plain sight, prominently pointed at the figure who sits in front of him.

  «And this one was pointing a gun...»

  A few moments of silence go by, with the hum of Dmitriev's camera and the hiss of the wind. Then Ivanov nods, very slowly, without taking his eyes off the two frozen corpses.

  «Two men aiming at each other, until death by frosting occurs. What is the point?", Eva murmurs.

  Ivanov replies, his voice almost a whisper. «The camp was destroyed... they were probably the only survivors, but for some reason they couldn't trust each other...»

  The words written by the woman echo in the mind of the scientist, with her desperate attempt to leave a record of terrible events and warn who would retrieve her legacy. Her struggling calligraphy overlaps for a moment the view of the two frozen men in front of him. A flash of awareness enlightens the eyes of Ivanov for a second. He caters to the soldiers who gathered around the scene. «Yuri, Eve, let's move away. Captain, check out that there aren't any other remains. Contact the base and order them to bring here the dogs as soon as possible. They can sniff out for other corpses buried in the snow. Meanwhile, load these two bodies on the helicopter. We're going back to the laboratory. When you have finished with the task, just wipe away all traces of our presence. Now hurry up, the Americans won't be long in coming.»

  The soldiers hasten to obey. Dmitriev moves away to store the camera in his bulky black plastic case. Ivanov and Arsentiev move away from the group. The questioning gaze of the woman explores the face of the scientist. His hawk-like predator gaze now seems to harbor a hint of worry.

  Moscow - February 2014

  Time and vicissitudes have not been lenient with the face of Alexander Ivanov. The man seems to have barely exceeded sixty. His look seems tired and worn. His stare is haunted and almost absent, as those who have experienced and continue to relive unspeakable horrors through their mind's eyes. His blond hair now has a splash of gray on the temples, yet, despite everything, his appearance still instills a certain feeling of extremely determined authority. The scientist wears an anthracite-colored dress and sits with is back upright.

  The room is lit by an anonymous fluorescent tube, the walls are gray and bare, there's no unnecessary furniture, with the exception of one large table in the center of the room. On the other side sits a stocky man, dressed in an impeccable suit smelling of laundry. He's almost completely bald, only a clear hint of fuzz runs around the lower part of his head, like a too wide crown. Clear eyes look at the other with the piercing stare of those accustomed to see beyond the people's pantomime, every day.

  He talks with the slowness of who's leading the game. «So, Dr. Ivanov, let's recap again the whole story. We must be absolutely certain that we won't overlook anything.»

  The other takes a breath in between the impatient and exasperated, and bows his head in his hands, as if to rub his temples. «Captain Leonidovich, I've told over and over how the events took place. We should concentrate our efforts to find that man before...»

  The other raises both hands as if in a gesture of surrender, interrupting him abruptly. «Dr. Ivanov, we know who you are, and how much the nation is in debt to you for your research. You are a well-known distinguished scientist, no one doubts it, however personally... well, forgive my frankness, but I don't like your field of study. According to the information I have, it's since...» The man browses documents, pretending to look for information that has already been imprinted in his mind. «
Here it's. Well, since 1983 you direct a research center in Antarctica. The nature of your experiments – I read here – is "such that it's unwise to perform them on the inhabited continent." Your information access level is so high that you can only report to state leaders. Now... I don't care what you do at that lost and forgotten by God place and, although I find it hard to believe it, I read in your report – "a few cells of the TH1-N6 organism can trigger an infection that can wipe out the entire animal population of the planet, in an estimated time of about three years", what interests me is to understand how someone managed to get down there, break into an underground laboratory that is supposed to be very well protected and steal a capsule with a sample of this goddamn virus!»

  The scientist's expression is unreadable. His dark eyes fix those of the government agent in front of him for many long seconds. «The man», Ivanov answers slowly, like recalling an unpleasant memory, «had an accomplice inside the lab, one of my most trusted assistants. I believe that...»

  Leonidovich interrupts him again. «Oh yes, here he is, Yuri Dmitriev. According to the video recordings he died by a close-range gunshot in the neck, probably inflicted by his accomplice as soon as he put his hands on... the vial, or whatever it's. Why, I ask, would one of your most trusted assistants, betray you, and the whole nation, and endanger the entire human race?»

  «I have no answer for this, Leonidovich, I can only hazard a guess. Dmitriev had changed over time. He became nervous, prone to pessimism, his mood progressively darkened. I thought all this was due to stress. It's hard to live in a continent where even just looking at the sky outdoors puts your life in danger... Months and months in an underground laboratory, not to mention the experiments and the things of which we were witnesses, as well as the implications of some discoveries... I can't go into details with you, officer, but I assure you that even the most steadfast man might falter. There are thresholds that should never be crossed.»

  «That same man – sorry for interrupting you again – I read here that he voluntarily caused an accident that resulted in the loss of two lives, although I couldn't view any surveillance video recording....»

  Leonidovich looks up to Ivanov as if to push him to go on.

  «Yes, I have already told you several times how the events took place. He needed a diversion, so he tampered with the containment suits of two of my assistants, who were exposed to the infection. Fortunately, we were able to intervene immediately, to contain the spread. The laboratories were designed for this kind of drawback. The mess that ensued was planned by that man, to facilitate the theft of the sample.»

  «Drawback... For Christ's sake, are you human beings? There are people who died, Dr. Ivanov, they were not laboratory mice! »

  Leonidovich shifts in his chair, crossing his legs in a vain attempt to assume a more comfortable position. After a quick glance to the last one of the sheets of his dossier, he looks up at Ivanov, however, keeping his head down. «Among other things I understand that among the victims there is also Dr. Eva Arsentiev, one of the scientists closest to you, or rather your companion... Talk about a trusty assistant, Ivanov! What is the reason that prompted him to do all this? What's really behind this? A kind of personal vengeance? You tell me!»

  Dr. Ivanov's gaze is as cold as ice, as he watches the agent, almost like a guinea pig ready for vivisection. «I already said I don't know why Yuri Dmitriev did what he did. Now listen to me well: there is no time for these games, Leonidovich, there is no time for bullshit or for pain. In a few years no one will remember our feelings, our sacrifices and our points of view. Only the consequences of our actions have weight, both in the present and in the future, and it's to these that we should pay attention. If that sample is released or put into contact with an animal, life as you know it will end forever, in no time. The last things that you and the people close to you would see – before you die – would be horrors that you can't even imagine in your worst nightmares!»

  Moments of silence, while a baffled Leonidovich observes Dr. Ivanov, apparently undecided about his judgment.

  A beep breaks the tension. The agent approaches one hand to his headset. A female voice is barely audible on the other end of the table.

  Leonidovich nods, while listening to the message, then imparts some instructions to the operator.

  Once the communication ends he turns back to Ivanov. «Let's pray to God that your predictions are overly pessimistic, Dr. Ivanov. By analyzing the video of the laboratory surveillance system in Antarctica, we have identified the man we seek. It's a Chechen terrorist, linked with some cells of Islamic extremists. His name is Pyotr Dmitri Zaytsev. A bloodthirsty asshole, sought by government agencies across the world. Your virus, or what-the-hell it is, could not have come into worse hands.»

  «You have to alert the other nations, Leonidovich, we can't risk that...»

  «Yes of course», the agent interrupts him for the umpteenth time. «To tell them what? That we let a man blow a dangerous viral agent from under our nose, and now it's in the hands of a terrorist? You are over, Ivanov, and I don't think that you fully realize it. You have jeopardized the credibility and prestige of the entire nation!»

  «There's something else at play, Leonidovich. The prestige of a nation or any other matter relating to the human sphere is nothing compared to the risk of destroying the whole life on the entire planet. We are all in danger now, and it's you who doesn't realize it!»

  Moments of tense silence between the two, then it's Ivanov to go on. «Analyze the records of flights and ships in traveling from Antarctica. It's a continent that hosts just research stations. Perhaps you might be able to find any plane or boat that has reached other continents. The man you're seeking moves by private means, I suggest that you focus your efforts on the nearest coasts: Chile, Argentina, South Africa.»

  Leonidovich pauses for a moment, watching Ivanov from above, as if observing an irresponsible schoolchild, then gets up and heads for the door behind him. Before he even reaches it, the door opens, and two armed officers enter, arranging themselves on either side. «Lead Dr. Ivanov to Section IV, and make sure that he stays there.» Then he turns to the scientist, «Dr. Ivanov, we still need you, consider yourself lucky for that.»

  A bitter smile ripples for a moment on the impassive face of the scientist. «I'm more than aware of that, officer Leonidovich.»

  Cape Town airport

  A chubby boy about seven years old and a slightly older girl run after each other, zigzagging in the bustle of people in a huge hall of the airport of Cape Town.

  «Stop, just give it back!», screams the boy, while the girl laughs and trots in front of him, just quickly enough to stay out of reach but at the same time just in front of him. They run around having fun, as the girl swerves left, narrowly avoiding running into an elderly woman.

  «Watch your steps!», shouts the boy behind her.

  She laughs, looking back to make sure not to be caught by the other. After two more steps she hits someone's legs. The girl turns around, dazed by the impact, and finds herself in front of a man. He isn't very tall, his skin is like honey amber, only slightly darker. He has curly black hair, very thick, almost 70's Afro style, and perhaps they are the reason why his head looks a bit too wide for the narrow shoulders. Two mild but bright eyes, hazel colored, look at the child. The man smiles and somehow even his smile seems somewhat disproportionate. He talks, saying something in an incomprehensible language and making a half curtsy. She blushes and murmurs an apology just before slipping away along with her friend who, taking advantage of her moment of confusion, finally reached her, taking firmly hold of her sleeve.

  The man hesitates for a moment, looking at the two that have already forgotten him and run between the people, when he suddenly feels an iron grip on his arm. The hold is energetic, nervous but decisive. He instinctively frees the limb and turns to look. Next to him there is a taller, pale-skinned man, his long black hair gathered in thin braids and tied neatly behind his head. His two-day bea
rd frames a goatee slightly longer. The newcomer looks around suspiciously. His nervous gaze flickers quickly, analyzing and checking the surroundings, the people, the ways out, and the surveillance cameras.

  «You shouldn't be here in plain sight, Amr, I asked for the utmost discretion.»

  «Take life easy, my brother», replies the other. «Who walks under the light of the one true God should never get too nervous.» Then he theatrically spreads his arms. «What better hiding place than in plain sight, and among the people?»

  «Shut up and listen», cuts the first, peremptorily and annoyed. «Tell me what time it is, then go and have a coffee. Come back in a dozen of minutes. Join me in the bathrooms. We'll talk there.»

  The other raises his left arm, sliding the sleeve to uncover a modern chronograph, then communicates the time to his accomplice. This one thanks him, accompanying his words with a nod, then turns to move towards the opposite side of the huge room.

  The man named Amr takes a few moments, as to rearrange his dress with nonchalance, then he takes his way to the cafeteria.

  * * *

  «You took it too easily, I told you a dozen minutes!»

  The two men are now in the bathrooms of the airport lounge. The taller of the two looks around, inspecting all the bathrooms to make sure that nobody is there. He seems apparently satisfied but always very nervous, as he speaks to Amr, who pretends to adjust his tie in front of a mirror. Before he can open his mouth, it's Amr to take the lead, smiling warmly. «You should learn how to enjoy every second, Pyotr. You never know when it's the last time you do something. Anyway... I've known you for some time now, and I understand when there is something wrong with you. Perhaps some unexpected problem?»

  «Not at all», exclaims the other. «And don't call me by my name.»

  «We're alone, no one listens to us, just relax.»