The Death Gods (A Shell Scott Mystery) (15 page)

“
Yes. It was a great
unpleasantness I had with the great Dr. Wintersong. I guess I had
not mentioned that yet.”

“
I guess.”

“
Six of us visited the
research center, as a delegation from POCUEA, to observe the
animals. Sheldon, perhaps you would be free to come here again, to
my office? I have not another patient until half past one o’clock.
I should probably explain some of this.”

“
You sure should,” I said.
“I’m on my way.”

CHAPTER NINE

In my car, turning on the
ignition, I took a last look at Mrs. Brewster. When I’d gathered up
the newspapers in front and carried them around behind the house,
Mrs. Brewster had been approaching her front door, sliding one
stick and slippered foot forward and then the other. I’d walked up
next to her, told her the Vungers were not inside their home so
that whatever condition they were in they were in it far from Mrs.
Brewster, watched her pleasant face light up with a smile and
listened to her effusive thanks, then saw her face crinkle with
pain as she turned, supporting much of her weight on those walking
sticks once more.

She was a nice old lady
with a pretty though puffy face, and I hoped, I really hoped, those
three miracles and two wonders would make her well
again.

Then I jammed the Cad into
Drive and headed for Hank’s.

“
No, no, and no,” said Dr.
Henry Hernandez reasonably. “I am not blind to his virtues, since
he does not possess any worth mentioning. And I am not prejudiced
against him merely because he is a rabid killer of his animal
superiors. No, I am also prejudiced against him because I have
examined numerous hemorrhoids that displayed more charm than does
the eminent Dr. Wintersong.”

“
Well, okay,” I said. “I
withdraw my accusations of possible bias, prejudice, paranoia, and
imminent galloping psychosis, since it is obvious you’ve arrived at
your conclusions logically by astral osmosis and without any
emotional imbalances whatever.”

“
Do you have to talk like
that, Sheldon? You are supposed to be a detective, not a
librarian.”

“
Do I have to talk?” I let
it go. It was a no-win situation. Another one.

I was again seated in the
leather chair before the battered oak desk in Hank’s office. But he
wasn’t at the desk, he was pacing the floor, hands clasped behind
his back, pausing now to gaze down at me. He had just finished a
five-minute explanation, interspersed with occasional brief
tirades, about his and POCUEA’s visit two weeks ago, on October 10,
to the Omega Medical Research Institute, headed and supervised by
Dr. William Wintersong.

It had taken POCUEA a full
year to get permission from Wintersong for a visit to the
Institute, their phone calls and letters having been ignored until
Hank enlisted the aid of the Congressman representing his district,
whom he informed that animal experimentation being conducted at the
Institute was not only unconscionable but also violated
restrictions and guidelines of the National Institutes of Health.
Whatever the documentation Hank provided to his Congressman, it
resulted in permission for a half-dozen representatives of POCUEA
to visit the Omega facility at a date and time designated by Dr.
Wintersong.

Hank had described what
he, and the five other members of his group, found in the two
buildings in which the animals were caged, experimented
upon—“senselessly tortured and brutalized” in his phrase, or rather
one of his many phrases—and in most cases “sacrificed,” which is
doctorese for killed when the experimenters had finished
experimenting. POCUEA had not found evidence of any experiments in
clear violation of “official restrictions and guidelines,” but it
would have been surprising if they’d done so, since Dr. Wintersong
“had weeks or months to conceal or bury his mistakes, which if
Justice could see would have included self-immolation”—according to
Hank.

In a momentary pause, I
said, “You were going to fill me in on your altercation with
Wintersong. What was that all about?”

“
Ah, yes.” Hank turned
away, marched behind his desk, sat erect in the swivel chair. “He
did not meet us when our delegation arrived at Omega. Instead, he
had designated two very large Sumo wrestlers, both wearing white
jackets and expressions of aggressive imbecility, to accompany us
during our visit. We proceeded through the two separate buildings
where there are laboratories and where most of the several thousand
animals are confined or caged. There are three buildings, two
connected like a letter ‘H’, plus the central Administration
Building where are most of the offices, including Wintersong’s two
operating rooms, offices for other doctors and research scientists
of various specialties—plus one special laboratory in which a few
additional animals are kept, presumably for truly cosmic
experiments aimed at improving the health of our entire solar
system.”

“
Hank, if you could sort of
zero in on the basic facts, without a whole lot of wonderful
embellishments—”

“
I zero. Doctor Wintersong
has his office in this central Administration Building, but when he
emerged to see us, he emerged not from his office but from behind a
door to the right of it, which door had upon it a red circle with a
line through it and the words ‘Danger, Lethal Radiation’ and ‘Do
Not Enter!’”

“
He came out of a room
where there was some kind of radiation?”

“
No, this warning is a
large baloney. It was from the ‘Do Not Enter’ door that Wintersong
exited, and—which was a most unusual opportunity, for I was by
chance in the right place at its right time—I was able to see past
him, for one whole second maybe, before the door slammed shut with
a great crashing like when a train starts up. And inside, on the
left from me, I could see counters, equipment, wires and tubes—and
a dog. Some kind of experiment.”

“
Dog?”

“
White and with black
spots, a Dalmatian I think. I am not sure, I could not see all of
him, a green cloth covered this dog’s body, but the handsome face
and head were that of a Dalmatian. But the astonishment, the thing
that most exercised me, is that to the top of this dog’s skull—or
maybe into the brain itself, I could not see if the skull was all
there or not—were wires and tubes, like when an animal is fed
nutrients and a record is kept of heart beats, blood flow, brain
waves and such functions, recorded on moving papers. You
know?”

“
Like when the doc does an
EKG and those little wavy lines squiggle on—”

“
Yes. It is possible
Wintersong was doing some terrible experiment upon this dog.
Something barbaric and most—”

“
Dammit, there you go—if
you just wouldn’t always jump to the most villainous conclusion,
Hank. Plain common sense says that if you—anybody—could see inside
that room when Wintersong strolled out of it, if there was any
experiment at all it was probably innocuous. Otherwise he’d have
made sure nobody could see whatever—whatever you think you
saw.”

“
He did not...stroll. I
have concluded Wintersong was caught unaware. It was not exactly as
though he let me see. It just happened in a fortunate accident when
he came rushing through this doorway, all excited, that I chanced
to observe inside those things I mentioned.”

“
Hold it. Excited? He came
rushing through the doorway? Hank, did you leave something
out?”

“
Eh...ah, mmm. Yes,
something. Maybe I had better tell you the something.”

“
No maybe about
it.”

“
In my coat lapel I had
this small button or badge-like thing, which was of glass, a lens.
In my pocket was the rubber bulb, which I squeezed when I
wished—”

“
Good God, you were taking
pictures?”

“
Yes. I had some good ones.
Well, bad. Horrible. One of these large muscular globs accompanying
our POCUEA group observed my squeezing, became very physical with
me—lifting me up, rattling me somewhat. He found the bulb, the
little camera....”

Hank paused again. “It is
unfortunate. I had some photographs of the most gruesome
ugli—”

“
What happened then—where
did Wintersong come in?”

“
Well, there was
considerable frenzy. I was being shaken, individuals were crying
out things like ‘Bastard spies!’ and ‘Goddam miserable stinking
mouse-lovers!’ and ‘Camera, he gotta camera!’ in that mode, very
loud. Mostly I recall the loudness, which was probably sufficient
to penetrate through the steel door marked with the
Radiation-Danger warning I mentioned. But I suspect somebody phoned
into that room where Wintersong was, for he came rushing out and
rapidly up to me yelling ‘Camera! Where is the camera?’”

“
Can’t say I blame
him.”

“
You would, if you knew
him. However, I comprehend your point. Even Dr. Wintersong’s point.
But I had made no promise not to photograph anything.”

“
True. But neither had you
promised not to blow up the entire establishment with tons of TNT,
or bombard it with mortar fire, or dip Wintersong in hydrochloric
acid—”

“
You are a difficult man,
Sheldon. I hate it when you are right. Of the pictures, I felt I
should be the one to chance it, the doing was my responsibility—it
was a calculated risk. Not sufficiently calculated, I now
perceive.”

“
What did Wintersong do,
throw you out?”

“
Yes, not bodily through
the air, but with firm conviction. When he initially burst in upon
us—and I perceived briefly the interior from which he had burst—he
shouted for several moments into my face. I shouted back into his
face. Naturally, neither of us could understand what the other was
shouting, but when the steel door closed crashingly it became at
that moment very quiet. Many people were standing around in this
quiet.”

Hank paused briefly, then
went on, “And Doctor Wintersong spoke, with words flying like
flakes of blizzard, saying he had known it was a mistake to allow a
bunch of quacks—that’s us, Physicians Opposed et cetera—to visit a
scientific research facility, and obstruct true physicians and
scientists in their vital work essential for the good of all
mankind. He really does talk like that. The good of all mankind
seems to be on his mind a lot. He also said he would not make the
same mistake again—that I, and any others from POCUEA, and any
other crazy animal freaks or medical quacks, would not under any
circumstances ever again be permitted into Omega
Research.”

I sighed. “I suppose you
agreed with him sweetly, promised not to inconvenience him ever
again, and quietly departed?”

“
Oh, sure. Exactamente.
Plus I kneeled down and licked his shoes, saying, “Whatever you
wish, O Great One.”

“
So you all left
then?”

“
A little...after then.
Eventually. First I responded to Wintersong’s angry words in my
face by informing him that he would succeed in preventing citizens
from monitoring his monstrosities several years after hell froze
solid enough for angels to ice-skate upon it.”

“
You actually said
‘monitoring his monstrosities’?”

“
Well, in that general
area. I am making this up from memory. Additionally, I told him I
would personally return, sounding I suppose something like General
MacArthur contemplating the shores of Luzon, even if I had to
blackmail the dictator of the FDA, even if I had to get orders from
a court, even if I had to join the AMA, I would return and bug
him.”

“
You think that was wise,
Hank?”

“
No. Unwise. I, too, was
angry. I had been shaken. Lifted up and rattled like somebody
making cocktails.”

“
You really threatened him
with a court order?”

“
Among other things. I seem
to recall saying if my dreams came true I would supervise the
strapping of him to a chair and the banging of his head with a
piston-hammer, for the good of all mankind. Also the dripping of
glue into his eyes, as they do to rabbits, to determine
scientifically if lids stick when—”

“
I think you can skip some
of the incidental dumbness.”

“
Dumbness is valid. I am
not usually so unaware of myself, so uncontrolled in demeanor. But,
Sheldon, it is not merely those things I have described, but that
there is something ghastly in Wintersong, something chilling as
snow winds, a repulsion from him that others feel. Certainly I felt
it when near him—and he was like two inches apart from my face,
spitting icicles—and this thing from him displaced my aura, or
disturbed my energy body, caused me to itch all over. Well, what in
truth happened, I blew my cool as some say. Should be blew my warm,
I think. So I regret, not what I said to him but that it was said
uncontrolled.”

“
Yeah, and I think you
mentioned a bunch of other people standing around? Paying close
attention?”

“
Yes. Fifteen, twenty. Lab
workers, doctors, many others.”

“
My point is, if Doctor
Wintersong is anything like the character you’ve described, I’d
guess he enjoyed your dressing him down—in front of his people, the
workers he has authority over—about as much as gargling
Drano.”