The Case of the Mad Scientist

Chapter 13: Facing the Boss

Chapter 13: Facing the Boss

It was early evening and lights from the privileged few homes overlooking the lake were reflecting off the still water. From the second floor of Janichi Watanabe’s mini-mansion, the view out over the lake was quite pleasing. His classic Japanese style house was close enough to the lake’s edge that he had a short set of stairs leading down to a small dock. There were no boats at that dock, but he could have walked down and gone fishing any time he wished. Janichi Watanabe did not want the trout jumping in the twilight; he fished deeper waters - and more dangerous waters.

“You promised me results,” he said softly as he picked up a small cup of fragrant tea. “So far you have not delivered any.” He sipped, and in doing so, sent a message to the doctor in the wrinkled lab coat. To not offer tea to your guest was an insult of the first magnitude. If Sorren realized it, he did not seem to care.

“My research is progressing,” he offered. “I have perfected the virus that will enter the human body and alter the DNA. I am working on coding that virus to alter the DNA into patterns we want.”

“Indeed?” Watanabe reply was cool, to say the least. “I have given you a research lab and provided you with all the equipment you asked for. I have even provided you with ‘test subjects’, as per your requirements.”

“You have been most generous, Watanabe-san. Much more so than my homeland colleagues. I am sure that results will be forthcoming.” Nervousness was beginning to show on Sorren’s pale face. “I promise.”

Watanabe took his time finishing the cup of tea. An elderly man, slender with wrinkled skin and age blots on his face and hands, he settled back in his chair. Although looking like someone’s great- grandfather, his black eyes were sharp and his brain still functioning like a steel trap. Always the picture

of politeness, he had, nevertheless, destroyed lesser businessmen who went up against him. His business empire had grown so large that it was doubtful even he knew just how big it was.

“It is dangerous,” he began, taking another tack, “to keep supplying you with young women. With every one you use in your experiments, the danger increases that someone will notice our activities. And it is expensive. We now have to go some distance to procure your subjects.”

“Aren’t there still many in the earthquake area that you can take? Those who no one will miss? So many people are still listed as ‘Missing’.”

“For the first few weeks, that was so. But now the authorities are better organized. We have started to send men to Tokyo and other cities. Best not to take too many from one place.”

“I see. Then it is wise to seek them elsewhere.”

“Indeed.” Watanabe paused, his black eyes staring up at the scientist standing before him. Making a person wait and squirm was an old tactic. So was making threats.

“I want to see some results. I want to see a subject where your virus has made a change in the DNA. Some change that is obvious.”

He was referring to prior claims of Dr. Sorren’s that displayed no visible signs that the DNA had, indeed, been altered. Only readings on a chart.

“Yes, sir.” Sorren hated to grovel before this old man. Watanabe dismissed him with a casual wave of his hand. As Sorren turned to go, he was silently cursing that he had to put up with non-scientists, people who did not understand how difficult it was to alter the human body on the most basic level. In the corridor leading back down to his lab, he continued fuming, this time at Maurice Batton, the Director of Research at Swanson Labs, a bastard who was so blind that he could not see the obvious value of Sorren’s research. It was he who had denied additional funds for more testing and more equipment.

Here in Japan, both he and Watanabe wanted very much for the new processes to yield results, though for different purposes. Sorren wanted to be able to cure genetic diseases by modifying the DNA. And, in doing so, become incredibly rich and famous. Watanabe, however, wanted something quite different. The ability to alter the human body and its functions could be used for much more than just curing a few diseases - so much more. One could create a race of super soldiers who could far outperform normal humans, who were easy to train and totally fearless in the face of death. Or workers who were not encumbered by personal desires and wants; workers who would day in and day out perform their duties and be content with some food and a place to sleep. There was even lurking in his mind the idea of creating super women. If the DNA could be manipulated properly, you could have a woman who was incredibly beautiful, with a centerfold body, a fantastically high sex drive, and totally obedient and submissive.

In the dim light of his den, Watanabe mulled over the possibilities, a faint smile lifting one corner of his lips. Turning to Gato, who had been standing in the shadows all the while, he inquired, “You are sure he is not using these women for other, more lustful purposes?”

“Sir, as far as I can see, he has not touched any of them sexually. It is almost as if he has no sex drive at all.” Unlike Gato himself, who had often used the subjects kidnapped for experimentation.

“Is he gay?”

“No, sir. I was curious about that myself, so one time I offered to get him a young man or a boy. He did not want that.”

“And you are sure that you are using men who will not allow any trace to point to us?”

“Yes, sir. They are very good men. And one of them was kidnapping women for a prostitution ring. ‘White slavery’ the Americans call it. I trust them.”

“I hope so.” He paused to look out at the few homes showing lights along the mountains surrounding the lake. “Very well, we shall allow him more time. See that he gets the subjects he claims to need. But be careful. In this day and age of modern communications and databases, it is not as easy to make a person disappear as it used to be.”

“I shall.”

“Go now. Continue to keep an eye on him.”

Gato bowed low and quickly left the room. Belonging to NôvelDrama.Org.

As he descended the stairs to the basement laboratory, he was smiling. He knew what Dr. Sorren wanted that virus for, and that his boss wanted it for a different purpose. The old man, he reminded himself, expected to find some miracle in this new technology that would prolong his life. Already his body was failing him, and in not too many years there would be no more Watanabe-san to run his business empire. Gato had been making plans to grab what he could from Watanabe’s stupid sons and stake out his own empire. They were far too interested in sake, whiskey and prostitutes to ever make good businessmen. They would be content to let him run the businesses so long as he made sure they had all the money they wanted to waste on pleasure games. By the time they realized it, he would own what they had thought theirs.

Turning a corner, he came to the prison section. Dr. Sorren called it the subject containment section, but it was nothing more than a handful of steel-barred cells such as you would find in any jail or prison. There were currently two subjects incarcerated therein, a young, slender girl from outskirts of Morioka, and another prostitute from Tokyo. That one was in her late teens but had apparently had a hard life because she looked older. The doctor would not be happy with her, but was just too bad. Gato, in his own mind, thought this whole medical research thing was a bunch of hogwash, to use an American term. He could not see how a tiny virus could change a human being - actually change the body and

mental state. As far as he was concerned, nothing would ever come from this American doctor. But, so long as the supply of women kept coming and Watanabe was happy, it was fine with him.

He looked down at the prostitute huddled in the corner of her cell. As he did with all the new subjects, he had stripped her clothing from her body and shackled her with a goodly weight of steel chains and locks and tight bands around her wrists, ankles and neck. Take a woman’s clothes away, and you make her feel more vulnerable. Let her keep them, and she’ll fight you. Women should always be kept naked, he felt.

The prostitute looked up. There was a spark of defiance in those dark eyes, but not much. She would be easy to handle. He moved to the other cell. The teenager looked up. Her chains made clinking noises as she shifted her position on the floor. He had made sure that the cells contained nothing to give them comfort. There was no bed, no chair, nothing but a small drain in the middle of the floor. The walls were bare concrete and there were no windows. A single light in the corridor shed some light into each cell, but very little. Each naked woman was also denied a blanket. At night the cells became cold, but only enough to keep them miserable. He kept the air temperature just high enough to keep them from becoming ill.

The slender girl opened her mouth but no words came out. She saw the look in his eyes, the look of a predator who cared nothing for his prisoners. She closed her mouth, the plea left unspoken. She lowered her head.

Just then, Dr. Sorren came in from the other end of the corridor.

“I’ll need a subject, Gato,” he said, looking down at the clipboard in his hand. “What have we?”

Gato pointed to the two occupied cells. The doctor studied each woman for a few seconds, and then pointed to the prostitute.

“That one. This is a new technique and I’m not at all sure it will work. And it may cause a lot of pain. Better test it on a poorer example of a subject.”

He turned and went back to the lab.

Gato took a key ring from his pocket and began unlocking the cell door. It was a good thing, he told himself, that these girls did not speak English, or this one would not just be looking fearful. She would be screaming and clawing at the walls.

Reaching down, he grabbed her by the chain to her neck collar and dragged her to her feet. The heavy weight of chains made walking unpleasant, but with him tugging on her neck chain she was forced to follow him into the lab. Her eyes grew wide when she saw all the laboratory equipment. Perhaps she had expected to see a bedroom where she would be fucked. Prostitutes get used to that and come to believe it is the only thing a man could possibly want with a woman.

The chamber with the airtight door was at that end of the lab so he did not have far to take her. Once inside, he unlocked some of her chain locks, reattaching them so that she was standing with her back against one of the poles and her arms locked behind it. He did not bother with her feet; they were fairly immobile from the shackles on them. He did, however, add a short piece of chain around her neck and the pole to keep her head upright. The doctor liked to be able to see the subject’s face during the experiment.

When he was finished and about to turn to leave her, she spoke the first word he had heard her say: “Dozo…”

He smiled and closed the chamber door. Please, she begged. But please what? Please let me go? Please fuck me? Or maybe even, “Please hurt me.” Some prostitutes are that way, he had heard. Hell, some women are that way. The more you hurt them, the more they love you. He chuckled as he went to tell the doctor his subject was ready.

Apparently the doctor was right. This new procedure, this new batch of the virus, did cause a large amount of pain. Shortly after the injection, the chained, naked woman was screaming loudly and thrashing around. Gato enjoyed the wild display of bouncing breasts, and was disappointed when the show did not last very long.

“Hmmmm… Have to change the…” Sorren muttered, the words trailing off as he turned and walked away, head down and his whole attention to the notes on that clipboard.