Pursuit

By G.C Anderson

The mapping of the human genome yields the cure for the most dread disease of all, death...but that doesn't mean you can't be killed. Naturally, there is nothing more fleeting than a secret and soon information that could be used to duplicate the formula is stolen and the chase is on! Will the beautiful young thief escape with the goods and just

• Language: English
• Publisher: Book Writing Experts
• Release date: Nov 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781088003107

Book preview

Montag Mai 22, 2:05 p.m.

He stands in the sunny window watching the gardener tend the nearby flowerbeds. It has been a long time since he’s felt the sun on his face. It’s been a long time since he’s been able to stand without assistance.

He was born sometime between the two World Wars, the heir to what was then and still is one of the world’s largest fortunes. His family’s business interests span the globe.

The ‘treatments’ are working. He flexes his muscles and feels strength returning to his once feeble body, it is truly a miracle! A miracle that has taken some of the world’s finest scientific minds over twenty years to discover. It is a miracle that has taken every bit of his considerable influence to broker. Yes, it was his vision that made the miracle possible in the first place and now he is reaping the benefits.

He is getting younger!

The infirmities of his seventy plus years are dropping away like a snake shedding its skin. He is being reborn.

He has everything anyone could ever want. Untold wealth, power, he even has an ancient title. Now he eagerly anticipates recovering the one thing that he misses the most, his youth and the resultant vigor and good health that are taken for granted by the young.

He looks into the full-length mirror in his dressing room and sees a man in his middle years looking back at him. Two weeks ago he’d undergone emergency by-pass surgery. His latest MRI shows no signs of the operation ever being performed. Even the veins they’d removed from his legs to use in that surgery have grown back!

Perhaps miracle is too strong a word. Life is a miracle! What is happening to him is just an applied scientific principle. Defeat the ‘death hormone’ and your body would rejuvenate itself indefinitely if not forever!

He is rolling the dice by undergoing the treatments now. Testing of the elixir is far from the point of being safe for humans. The emergency surgery had forced his hand; he feared that if he waited much longer it would be too late.

He considers the mapping of the human genome his own personal accomplishment. For the past twenty years he’s been the driving force behind the combined global effort to unlock the mysteries of humanity’s genetic code.

Regardless of his doctor’s fears, he feels better than he has in years.

Theoretically, he’ll regress until he is in his mid-twenties. The treatments could potentially take him all the way back to his late teens; the research and opinions are varied and inconclusive.

He will know soon as he has shed forty years in the past fortnight. This phenomenon has already created a problem with his security forces. He’d been wandering the halls of his castle when a guard confronted him and demanded to know who he was and how he’d gotten in!

He temporarily solved this issue by transferring most of his old loyal retainers to his other properties and hiring new temp ones to replace them.

He’s also contracted to have the temps replaced regularly with each new crew being given an updated photo of him so none would become suspicious of the incredible process that is taking place here.

His inner circle knows there was no avoiding it. These people are sworn to secrecy and would hold their tongues if they wanted to keep them. There are fates much worse than death.

If this procedure is successful, he holds the keys to a whole New World in his hands. He is becoming the world’s first immortal but even if he cheats death by natural causes, he can still be killed. Secrecy is of the utmost importance.

Who will he share eternity with? He doesn’t need to sell the secret as he already has all the power and wealth a single man can wield. This is a question that has vexed him since he first learned that the aging process could indeed be reversed.

Bestowing this gift on the great, un-washed masses is out of the question. There are already far more people than this tired old planet can comfortably provide resources for. Now there is eternity to think of...

So far the list is incredibly short, just himself and the doctor who developed the genetic elixir. He has his misgivings about the doctor but he can’t erase the knowledge from the person who developed the technique.

Erasing the doctor can be arranged easily enough but not until he’s sure the process works and the formula is well documented. If it doesn’t, the doctor is dead anyway.

He can’t think of anyone he wants around permanently and sometimes he wonders to himself if a single planet is big enough for two immortals.

He has heirs. They live with their mothers, scattered around the globe. None of these spoiled creatures has proven themselves worthy of sharing such a secret with. Not one of them has a care for their poor father; all they care about is his money.

Perhaps in a world without lawyers he will sire and raise a child worthy of joining him in defying death. There is plenty of time now to consider this problem.

There are several families scattered around the globe that control empires similar to his. None of their empires is as vast or as powerful as the one he alone controls.

His ‘top dog’ status has forced him to lay low and watch his back his whole life as the other ‘Great Houses’ watch his empire as closely as he does, probing for weaknesses that they can exploit.

These predators have been sniffing his gate ardently for the past few years, waiting. Waiting for him to die. It looks as though he is going to have the last laugh.

His father accomplished making the planet ready for its first immortal. The empire he inherited controls the world’s financial markets. A few simple manipulations and the world gone mad will crumble to dust.

The needy, greedy masses will annihilate themselves! Only the cunning and resourceful will survive. It will be a long overdue cleansing, an event that he and his ‘peers’ have spent the past decade paving the way for.

Dienstag Mai 23, 10:23 a.m.

Dr. Sophia Cohen anxiously watches the sample under the powerful microscope. The ‘old man’ has requested that the elixir be improved. He wants to know if it is capable of modifying specific genetic traits. She smiles to herself as she recalls the conversation.

What characteristic would you like to modify Sir? Is your nose too long? she asked.

No, I’d like to be taller, he answered.

I’m not sure how to do that. Perhaps we could experiment with a specific feature like the color of your eyes, she suggested.

If you want to work with a specific feature, how about doubling the size of my cock! he suggested lewdly. Apparently his testosterone levels were elevating.

Bigger than it is now? she remarked with a smirk, as it was obvious he’d become mildly aroused. His jaw had flapped wordlessly for a moment and then he smiled and said, You have that effect on me.

She returned his smile but thought to herself, Geez Pal, it’s too bad you give me the Willies!

The ‘old man’ was neither handsome nor ugly now that he was getting younger. He could use a massive overhaul in Sophie’s opinion, but she was secretly pleased that he hadn’t chosen to let her change the color of his eyes. They were his nicest feature.

****

Dr. Sophie Cohen is considered the foremost genetic scientist in her field. Her insights into recombinant DNA and quantum theory are revolutionary.

She has been compared to Madame Curie. She is also regarded as a modern day Dr. Frankenstein depending on where you go with her theories.

Sophie turned twenty-six on her last birthday. Her Doctoral dissertation stood the genetic world on its ear. She was working towards a professorship at Stamford when she received the offer to work in Germany. Besides tripling her salary, one of the intriguing features of the offer was that her expense account was ‘unlimited.’ She still isn’t sure what that means.

Her new job requires that she live ‘on-site’ but she’s been given a suite of rooms larger than her parents’ house to use as her private quarters right in the castle.

Upon accepting the position as the head of genetic research for the Zoegen Corporation, she was given a credit card.

So far, she has charged a Porsche, a top of the line Mercedes, and several designer outfits to the card without anyone batting an eyelash.

On the rare occasion she took it into her head to go to town, she charged lavish meals and weekends of non-stop partying to the card and still no one said anything.

Then there is the lab; she has Carte Blanche! Perhaps it is just the impetuosity of youth but she often purchases the highest priced instruments and supplies just because she can.

Born to a working class family in Boston, her academic achievements are legendary. Her father is a design engineer for General Electric and her mom is a freelance bookkeeper.

Sophie is the controversial ‘middle kid.’ She outshined her siblings by graduating from high school at fifteen and receiving a full scholarship to Harvard the following year. She hadn’t broken any records in this department but she was definitely right up there with the best and the brightest.

While Sophie is the middle kid, her parents are both the youngest of their clans and Sophie had grown up in a house of perpetual mourning as her multitude of relatives succumbed to the rigors of old age.

Sophie enjoyed a strong bond with her maternal grandmother. Her Nana was the one who first recognized Sophie’s uniqueness and encouraged her while Sophie’s parents doted upon their other children. It had been extremely painful for Sophie to watch her beloved mentor slowly lose a long battle with Alzheimer’s. She’d be sharp as a tack one day only to be in a world of her own the next.

Nana passed away the year Sophie was accepted into Harvard. She vowed to herself then that she would find the cure to this devastating disease. Technically, she has accomplished her goal with the creation of the elixir. Her creation is the property of her employer but there are ways around that, or so she thinks.

Donnerstag Mai 25, 3:08 p.m.

Sophie idly flips the memo in her hand as she listens to the phone ring. The ‘old man’ wants to know when he can have his next ‘treatment.’

Guten Tag, Keith Grover, says the voice on the other end of the phone.

Herr Grover, this is Dr. Cohen, how are you today? Sophie asks, attempting to be pleasant to the rigid man she answers to.

I’m fine Fraulien Doctor, what can I do for you? he replies with a barely perceptible sigh in his voice. Keith Grover is the CEO of Von Hapsberg Worldwide and the old man’s personal assistant.

Um, I received the memo you sent me regarding Mr. ‘X’s request for another round of treatments. I don’t think it’s prudent to push the process at this time, Sophie says as diplomatically as she can.

There is a brief silence on the other end of the phone as Herr Grover formulates his response.

Our employer is not a man you say ‘no’ to, Fraulien Doctor. I suggest you at least run some tests and confirm that the process is still moving forward, Keith Grover replies dryly.

Okay Herr Grover, tell him to drop in any time tomorrow morning, Sophie replies with a little sigh of her own.

Fraulien Doctor, our employer will be there promptly at 3:30 this afternoon, Herr Grover informs her. Sophie is about to protest when she hears Mr. Grover hang up. She places the phone back in its cradle and glances at her watch. It is 3:10.

These ‘Public Service Announcements’ are almost as annoying as not knowing the name of the man she works for. She had asked the old man once, just before his last treatment. He had told her to call him anything she liked that is all the answer she’d ever gotten.

Then there is Herr Grover. The man has a very condescending attitude and every time Sophie tries to warm up to him he turns the glacier that passes for his personality up another notch. Sophie has tried to determine if this is a German ‘macho’ thing or if the man is just being an asshole.

So far, asshole is winning.

Sophie makes a call to her friend Cindy and postpones the shopping trip they had planned for later that afternoon.

The Boss arrives right on time and Sophie does a double take when she sees the man cartwheel through the door.

Literally does a cartwheel.

Sophie can’t do cartwheels. Well, she probably could if she tried but it hasn’t occurred to her to do one since the second grade.

Hello Sophie! Mr. ‘X’ exclaims triumphantly. Everyone here speaks flawless English while Sophie can barely order her own dinner with her poor German.

I see we’re feeling chipper! Sophie remarks sarcastically, not sure what to make of this juvenile display.

Their last session had been two days ago and she is astonished to see the changes between then and now. He doesn’t look a day over thirty. The regression is accelerating by itself. Sophie speculated that once the tired old glands had healed themselves, the process would speed up. What she sees now is beyond her wildest imaginings. In less than two weeks this man has gone from his deathbed to full vigor!

His once baldpate has grown a full head of thick, blond hair. He also isn’t wearing his glasses. His medical records, the ones she’s been allowed to see, clearly note that the Boss is acutely nearsighted and has been from birth. He’s worn glasses or contacts all his life. Sophie drops a coin on the floor.

Heads or Tails, she asks.

Heads! he answers without straining to see the coin a few feet in front of him.

Sophie takes a step closer to see if he is wearing contacts.

He isn’t.

Sophie decides to go on the offensive.

You know, there is a possibility that we could regress you straight to infancy if we’re not careful. Sophie lies. His shocked expression tells her she’s hit her mark.

I’ve looked like this all day, I think it’s stopped! the Boss replies defensively.

All day, Sophie mouths soundlessly. Sophie does her best to disguise her annoyance and says, Let’s get Doctor Brahms in here and we’ll check you out!

Sophie isn’t a M.D. and she has been working closely with Dr. Brahms who is the Boss’s personal physician. Personal meaning the Boss is Dr. Brahms’ ONLY patient. Like Dr. Cohen, Dr. Brahms lives here at the castle and is on call 24/7.

Sophie gives the Boss a johnny and steps out of the room so he can change in private. Maybe she is reading something that isn’t there but it seems to her that the Boss is a little perturbed that she chose to leave the room rather than stay and admire her handiwork. She’ll be seeing more of him than she wants to as soon as Dr. Brahms arrives.

Sophie stands there considering this new wrinkle in the treatment while she waits for Dr. Brahms. His vision has repaired itself! This was akin to the amazing MRI that showed no indication of his several heart attacks or any evidence of his recent surgery. The elixir is displaying qualities she hadn’t figured on! So far these unknowns are good things, very good indeed, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a downside hiding in there somewhere.

Dr. Pieter Brahms is a heavy set, balding man in his late fifties; his father had been the Boss’s personal physician before him. Unlike Herr Grover, Dr. Brahms is an amiable man who left a thriving pediatric practice to walk in his father’s footsteps.

Guten Tag Fraulien, How is Das Master? greets Dr. Brahms.

You’ll have to see it to believe it! Sophie replies.

I don’t know if I’m ready to see more after the last time! jokes Dr. Brahms.

The ‘metamorphosis’ is a bit incredible to witness.

He did a cartwheel into my office! Sophie reports.

Das Master? he asks in an astonished tone.

Sophie nods.

What’s the problem? Pieter asks.

He thinks the process has stopped and he wants another treatment. He complains that he’s looked as he does now ‘all day,’ Sophie responds.

Ach! Has he lost his mind? Dr. Brahms asks.

Sophie nods her head again, vigorously this time.

I told him if we weren’t careful we may regress him all the way back to infancy! Sophie adds.

Is that possible? Pieter asks, alarmed.

Theoretically, no. But I didn’t expect all traces of the surgery to vanish along with the scars of his past heart attacks. There’s been another ‘interesting’ development. He no longer needs his glasses. Sophie states.

Dr. Brahms scowls at this latest bit of news.

Should I alert the MRI crew? Dr. Brahms asks.

Yeah, I think we need another look, Sophie agrees.

Sophie is worried that if the elixir is flawed, her employer is a dead man. The thought occurred to Sophie after she had administered the first treatment. If the old man dies, she is back to square one as far as finding someone else to sponsor her research. It could take her years just to get to where she is now.

Dr. Brahms holds the door for Sophie to enter the examining room. Sophie isn’t sure if he is just being gentlemanly or if he doesn’t want to be the first one in the box.

Hey! I’m not getting any younger over here! jokes the Boss.

Dr. Brahms struggles not to gape.

Sophie notices the Boss has an earplug stuck in his right ear. What is he listening to? She is sure it wasn’t there when he ‘tumbled’ in. The Boss plucks the earplug from its lodging and places it with his nearby pile of clothes. Sophie realizes she’s ‘telegraphed’ her concern and the Boss had picked up on it, removing the earplug.

Shall we begin? the Boss asks casually.

Donnerstag Mai 25, 3:55 p.m.

Dr. Brahms takes the lead. You look marvelous Sir. How do you feel today?

‘Better than I look!" he quips.

No aches, pains or discomfort? Dr. Brahms prompts.

No, he replies.

Sophie isn’t happy with this answer. She theorized that the patient would be bed-ridden during most of the regression as every gland in his body kicked into overdrive to erase the effects of decades of exposure to the death hormone.

Dr. Brahms puts his patient on the scale. You’ve been eating well I see! Dr. Brahms remarks as he records the number in his notes. The Boss goes to step off the scale and Dr. Brahms stops him.

Just a moment, Sir! Dr. Brahms uses the scale’s built-in ruler to measure his patient’s height. This time he makes no comment but his raised eyebrows speak volumes. He checks the number three times before logging it in his notes.

Something wrong Pieter? the Boss asks.

This scale is off, Dr. Brahms sighs. The Boss looks at the scale and smiles. The reading is four centimeters taller than he’s ever been.

Sophie is making some observations of her own. The ‘age spots’ have disappeared from his skin. So have any moles or freckles, at least where she can see. Sophie noted during the last exam that the Boss had a large hairy, pre-cancerous patch of dark brown skin on his upper left shoulder blade. She waits until Br. Brahms removes the blood pressure cuff and asks.

Could you remove the robe for a moment, Sir?

The Boss reaches behind himself and deftly plucks the two Velcro strips apart with the agility of a cat and slips the johnny to the floor. When Sophie made this request during the last exam, Dr. Brahms had been obliged to assist.

Not only has the nasty looking growth completely disappeared but she can’t make sense of the well-built man who stands naked before her. There is a well-equipped gym in the castle and Sophie uses it daily. She has never seen the Boss in there but it looks as though he’d spent every waking moment since receiving his first treatment working out.

It couldn’t hurt to ask.

Have you been exercising, Sir? Sophie inquires.

Just a little, I started this morning, he lies.

Dr. Brahms raised eyebrows speak even more volumes. The gym in the castle had been his idea and he’s never known his employer to take advantage of it. The Boss’s idea of exercise is walking eighteen holes. The gym is over fifteen years old and all the expensive equipment is pristine from lack of use. Sophie is the first to visit it regularly.

The Boss’s medical history indicates that the boss not only suffered chronic nearsightedness but he is also prone to be roly-poly as his weight was consistently thirty to fifty kilos over ‘ideal.’ He had been underweight for the first time in his life when he had undergone the emergency surgery two weeks ago.

It was concluded that he was dying.

Dr. Brahms sits the patient down again and is drawing blood samples. Sophie continues her visual scan; there isn’t a mark on him!

Even babies have birthmarks. The Boss’s skin is like a blank piece of white paper and is almost the same color save some faint tanning on the face and forearms.

All of his ‘Gorilla Hair’ has fallen out and it’s been replaced with fine blond fuzz over his legs and pubic area.

Sophie has never seen a man with blond hair there before. She recalls the Boss suggesting that he wanted her to make his penis larger. If she doubles the size of the monster that is hanging between his legs now, he’ll have to restrict his sexual activities to barnyard animals!

She had expected him to just get younger. The man before her is being rebuilt. It is as if the elixir is ‘optimizing’ him, activating only the best traits of his genetic inheritance.

Dr. Brahms marches the patient over to the MRI area and Sophie waits patiently for him to return.

I see it but I don’t believe it! exclaims Dr. Brahms, shaking his head as he re-enters the examining room.

That makes two of us, Pieter. I was totally unaware the elixir would alter his genetic make-up to this degree, Sophie replies.

What do you suppose the ‘film’ will tell us? Dr. Brahms asks.

By itself, I’ve created Superman. Compared to the last film, a miracle in progress! Sophie exclaims.

Dr. Frankenstein I presume? needles Dr. Brahms with a smile.

Sophie makes no response but stares down at her feet feeling there is more truth said in the joke than either of them realizes.

Sophie picks up the clipboard with the Boss’s medical records attached to it and flips through the pages until she finds the section she is looking for.

Like most ‘Bluebloods,’ the Boss has a list of allergies as long as your arm. She scans the list, seeking something the Boss is allergic to that is easily obtainable so they could test for a reaction.

Says here our patient is allergic to...Latex? Sophie asks Dr. Brahms.

Jah, that is correct, Dr. Brahms confirms. He breaks out in hives where ever it touches him.

Don’t have a condom on you, do you? Sophie smirks.

Dr. Brahms searches one of the drawers and finds a box of latex exam gloves. They cut a small piece from one of the gloves and stick it to a larger piece of surgical tape. Together they enter the MRI room to place the impromptu ‘patch test’ on their patient.

Dr. Brahms thought to bring the remainder of the glove with him and he rubs it momentarily against the Boss’s upper arm. According to the records, this is enough to provoke a reaction. Both doctors observe the area for a couple of minutes. The Boss has fallen asleep and is snoring lightly. The scan is almost half done. Convinced there has been no immediate reaction, they place the homemade ‘patch’ on the same spot and leave the Boss to finish his scan undisturbed.

Donnerstag Mai 25, 3:42 p.m.

The Boss listens intently as his doctors converse in Dr. Cohen’s office. They must be awfully stupid not to realize that the office is bugged, he thinks to himself.

So Dr. Cohen fears her creation is flawed. That would be tragic, very tragic indeed! He deduces from their conversation that the Fraulien Doctor is unaware of the elixir’s most intriguing property.

It responds to his thoughts.

He discovered this unexpected side effect by ‘accident’ himself. Dr. Cohen wasn’t far off in her theory that the regression process would take its toll on the patient. He has done little more than eat and sleep since the original treatment.

After his last meeting with Dr. Cohen two days ago, he went to his study to rest. He stretched out in his recliner to take a nap and just as he was drifting off, his thoughts had turned to his discussion with the doctor about genetic traits.

She had wanted to experiment with the color of his eyes. He distinctly remembered thinking, just before sleep overtook him, "I wish I had asked her to fix my eyes. That would be useful indeed!"

When he awoke, he could see clearly. At first he thought he had fallen asleep with his glasses on. It wouldn’t have been the first time. His hand bumped an object on the arm of the recliner and it fell to the floor. He bent reflexively to pick it up and found it was his glasses! His hands shot to his face.

No glasses!

Perhaps I am just dreaming, he had thought to himself. If he wasn’t dreaming then his prescription has been off his entire life as he had never seen with the clarity he was now experiencing. He left the study, rushing to find Dr. Cohen and share this new miracle.

He was also more than just a little scared.

This is when the incident with the guard occurred. The night shift hadn’t been informed that the master’s ‘nephew’ was visiting the castle. He got a grip on himself while waiting for Keith Grover to come to his rescue.

The staff knew that the master was an only child but his many marriages had given him a huge extended family. Occasionally, these relatives by marriage would come calling. Most of the time they were young upstarts who had ideas they wanted backing for. The Boss knew ahead of time that a large percentage of these ideas were as hare-brained as the person who had dreamt them up.

There had been that one time when his third wife’s cousin had come to him for backing with a computer operating system idea. That had worked out very well for both of them.

Keith Grover finally came and ‘liberated’ him from the guards. The Boss had Keith ‘escort’ him to his private quarters. Keith had to make a couple of calls to other security stations to inform them that while the master was ‘recuperating’ from his surgery, his ‘nephew’ would have the use of the master’s private suite.

This was unusual but not without precedent. In his younger days, when the master traded in wives like some men trade in cars, there had been many occasions when he had let his new relatives play ‘King for a Day’ at the castle.

He invited Keith into the anteroom of his chambers so he could speak to him in private. His suite is one of the few places in the castle that isn’t under constant security surveillance. Once inside, the Boss told Keith how he wanted to handle the ‘staff’ problem.

While waiting for Keith, he became aware that he was famished. The miraculous restoration of his vision had thrown his incredible appetite temporarily on the back burner. Cooling his heels in the Guard station had brought it to the forefront with a vengeance. His body needed fuel for the regression and he was burning calories faster than he could eat.

I’m starving Keith! Get me the greasiest, fattiest sausage, noodles dripping in gravy and rolls and butter, lots of rolls and butter! he ordered. His stomach made a loud gurgling sound. Have someone get up here right away with the rolls and butter, call the kitchen NOW! the Boss barked urgently.

The Boss had shamelessly mooched an apple from the guard but it hadn’t put a dent in his voracious appetite. Keith did as he was bid without hesitation. Unfortunately, it was after midnight and it took three phone calls and some screaming to achieve his master’s wishes.

Keith made no comment about the Boss’s glasses and by now it was a secondary consideration after what happened with the guard. He decides to keep his little miracle to himself for the time being. For all he knows, the elixir is supposed to do this.

In just over two minutes a breathless guard passes a basket of warm rolls and butter through the door to the waiting Keith Grover. Keith graciously set the rolls where the Boss could get started.

Keith smiles as he watches his hungry employer tear into the ‘appetizer.’ It is not a smile of pleasure but rather one of irony. The cook left hours ago and he ordered the guards to ‘slip on the aprons’ and fix the Boss his dinner.

Herr Grover had been ‘entertaining’ when the guard called for him and he is anxious to get back to his room.

Fifteen minutes later a knock on the door signals the arrival of dinner. Keith takes one look at the dinner cart and quietly scolds the guard to run back to the kitchen and get the rest before the other guards scarf it down. There is plenty of food on the cart for a ‘normal’ man but Keith knows the Boss’s appetite is far from normal.

Another fifteen minutes pass before a second knock comes. Apparently the guard was too slow to rescue the original meal and they had to make a fresh batch. Luck is with them as the Boss is just polishing off the first platter. He’d been complaining to Keith while he ate that the first platter wasn’t going to be enough.

Keith smiles again as he wheels the second cart over to the Boss’s table. There is three times more food than the first serving and they even thought to include more rolls and butter without being reminded.

Perhaps Keith wouldn’t send