The Oven

By Dwain G Fuller

Atwood "Woody" Stressel is a newly trained CIA clandestine operator who has been embedded in the first-year class of Grantland Medical School in an attempt to solve the mystery of disappearing undercover CIA personnel. Woody is only told of a strong suspicion that there is a mole in the CIA who has been turned by Russian agents and who is finger

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dwain Fuller
• Release date: May 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9781088024355

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

GROSS ANATOMY

Shoemakers! Shoemakers! the animated gray-haired anatomy professor shouted with a thick German accent. The freshman medical school students in the incoming class of 1963 had just received the scores from their first gross anatomy test. They sat silently, shocked by Professor Kreizler’s tirade. You lazy people who flunked this test should drop out of school and learn to repair shoes!

Wolfgang Kreizler was a legend at Grantland University Medical School. He was in his seventies but was still perfectly lucid. The man had a severe hearing problem, and students had to shout for him to understand them, even with a bulky hearing aid protruding from each ear. Professor Kreizler was a magician at the chalkboard. He could use each hand simultaneously to draw two totally different anatomy images that were detailed and in multiple colors. But he had no tolerance for students who struggled with gross anatomy.

Atwood Stressel sat at the back of the class with a small white card in his hand, making no attempt to hide it.

Lowest passing score: 70

Your score: 55

Atwood, or Woody as he was called, had flunked the test badly. Only one student had made a worse score on the examination than he. The man sitting next to Woody leaned over to peer at Woody’s low score and gave a low chuckle.

Woody, we all know that you shouldn’t be here. I don’t think anybody who ever made a C in organic chemistry in college has ever been accepted at Grantland Medical School before. And we all know that the only reason you were admitted as a late alternate is because your grandfather was a dean here many years ago. You need to follow old Kreizler’s advice and withdraw and try to learn to cobble shoes, my friend. You have zero chance of passing the first semester. Just wait until we start neuroanatomy.

Woody smiled at his seatmate. Justin, you are such an annoying little prick. We all know that you brown-nosed your way through college and sucked up to the old maid pre-med advisor. Our buddy John Klinger made the lowest score and has already decided to withdraw from school. But you can be sure that I won’t wimp out like him. Perhaps I’ll need to find time in my busy social schedule to study for the next anatomy test.

Gross anatomy was known as the killer first-year class. Dissecting cats and frogs in college biology had little relevance to the cadavers. On the first day of anatomy class, each student had been given a wooden box full of human bones to learn every little prominence and canal. That was difficult enough, but once the students started dissecting a cadaver, there was a hopeless number of body parts, nerves, arteries, and veins to master. To make things harder, at examination time the cadavers were always draped to expose only the structure in question, which was marked with a colored pin. There was also an alarm clock that dinged when time was up to move to the next station.

Woody had not studied very hard for the anatomy test, hoping to scrape by with a low, but passing, score. However, his effort had not been helped by one of the exam proctors sidling up to him at the second station and whispering, Woody, you just got an emergency call from home. Immediate concern. But then the proctor laughed and said, Just kidding, little buddy.

Another issue was the fact that Judson and Woody were the last two to finish the test stations. When Judson was on the last one, Woody was one station behind trying to determine if the pin was stuck into a nerve or a small artery in the chest. Woody clearly saw Judson look carefully around, then quickly move the pin at the last exam spot to a new location on the cadaver.

After dinner at the Kappa Kappa fraternity house, Woody headed for his room early. He had a busy night ahead of him. For two hours he poured over the Krebs cycle for biochemistry and then spent thirty minutes looking at the thorax in Grant’s Atlas of Anatomy. Woody set his alarm for 2 AM and then quickly fell asleep. He woke up just before the alarm went off, dressed all in black with a hood, and stuck a small Beretta pistol into his pocket. He silently left the fraternity house and walked three blocks in the cool night air to the medical school. The door to the administrative building was always open at night with a sign-in sheet for students who might want to study late in the medical library.

A night guard patrolled the building. Woody stayed in the shadows until the guard disappeared down one of the long hallways. Then Woody entered the building, ignored the sign-in sheet, and quickly took the stairs to the basement where the gross anatomy laboratory was located. The lab was always locked at night. Woody put on thin, black latex gloves. Using a lock pick, he had no trouble opening the lab door. He closed the door behind him and relocked it.

The lab was pitch black and had no windows. A strong smell of formaldehyde came from the twenty cadaver vats that were covered for the night. Woody used a small flashlight to find his way to the back of the laboratory, where there was a thick iron door with two very heavy padlocks. These locks were more of a challenge, but Woody patiently worked with his small metal pick until both locks were open. The heavy door creaked ominously as Woody used force to make it swing inside. An immediate overwhelming stench of decaying flesh almost made Woody vomit.

The room was larger inside than one might have guessed. Woody’s flashlight showed a number of cadaver vats. In the very back of the room there was a vat partially covered with a tarpaulin. Woody removed the cover and saw three, two-piece hasp locks welded to the top and side of the tank with very large padlocks.

It took Woody almost twenty minutes to pick the locks. He carefully raised the lid of the cadaver tank. The smell of putrefaction made him gag. He shined his flashlight into the tank and gasped when he saw the decaying body of a naked young woman with a lead weight on her abdomen to keep her submerged in the formaldehyde. Even in her present state it was obvious that in real life she had been beautiful. It was also obvious that she had been in an advanced state of pregnancy when she died. Woody used a small flash camera to take a picture of the woman’s face, chest, and abdomen.

Suddenly there was the sound of someone shaking the front door of the anatomy lab. Woody took the Beretta out of his pocket and flattened himself on the floor.

The noise stopped and there were receding footsteps in the hall as the night watchman continued his nocturnal rounds. As soon as the watchman was gone, Woody used his flashlight to scan the small backroom. Strange. All of the cadaver vats in the backroom were secured with hasps and padlocks. Woody replaced the locks on the vat containing the young woman, relocked all doors, and exited the building quickly. He was back in his bed by 3 AM and fell asleep quickly.

Breakfast at the Kappa Kappa fraternity house was at 6:30 AM. Woody was a little late and found that the only open seat at the table was next to the always annoying Justin Noble, who had urged him to quit school after his poor showing on the anatomy test.

Well, well, said Justin loudly. Look who’s still here. I fully expected you to withdraw yesterday afternoon after your debacle on the anatomy exam. The test really wasn’t that hard. I made a 94 without even breaking a sweat.

Justin’s father was a prominent neurosurgeon in town, and Justin had been programmed to become a doctor from the time he was old enough to talk. One of his early childhood Christmas gifts had been a Littman stethoscope. He and Woody had been classmates in college, but never even remotely friends.

Woody ignored Justin and began eating his breakfast. But Justin was not through with the one-sided conversation.

Woody, there is something really strange about you. You started Trenton University two years before I did, then mysteriously dropped out of college after your junior year. My sources tell me that you were a pre-law major and making pretty good grades before you quit school. When you came back to Trenton 18 months later, you had experienced an epiphany of some sort and started cramming in pre-med courses as fast as you could. However, the required courses were too hard for you, and you almost flunked organic chemistry and made low Bs in the other science courses. Clearly, you don’t have the IQ points to be a doctor. Maybe it’s not too late for you to become an ambulance-chasing lawyer.

Woody looked at Justin and said, You have a large mouth, Justin, but there’s not much else going for you. Tell you what. The next gross anatomy exam is in three weeks. Here’s a hundred dollars that I trounce you on that test.

The fraternity brothers around the table had stopped eating to listen. Woody took a hundred dollar bill from his wallet and placed it on the table.

I’ll give this money to our house mother, and you can do the same. Unless, of course, you are afraid to take the bet.

Justin said, Talk about a sure thing. I can use an extra Benjamin. I’ll give my money to Clarissa before we head out to school. Unless you have an emergency brain transplant, there is no way you will ever beat me on any test in medical school. A fool and his money are soon parted, sucker.

Woody got up from the table and headed back to his room. The fraternity brothers were definitely interested in the one hundred dollar anatomy test wager and began buzzing.

Mel Turner had been a football player two years behind Woody in high school. He said, Justin, your money may not be as safe as you think. Woody graduated as valedictorian. And, he was an all-state linebacker and had several Division I scholarship offers. I personally would not want to mess with him.

Big friggin’ deal, Justin replied. I’m just as big as he is, and probably a lot tougher. And for damn sure I’m a whole lot smarter than he is. I’m going to head up to my room and get one hundred dollars for Clarissa. I’m counting on a very nice return on this little investment.

CHAPTER 2

DOUBLE TASKING

Woody slipped out of the afternoon biochemistry lab early and took a circuitous route to Gunderson Park. There were lots of people at the park since the zoo had a new baby giraffe that was meeting the public for the first time. Woody walked toward the middle of the park and sat down on a bench. After a few minutes a gentleman with early graying of his hair sat down at the other end of the bench. The man appeared to be in his early fifties, but was tanned and surprisingly muscular. He looked over at Woody and asked quietly, Are you certain that you were not followed?

Woody shook his head once. I was very careful and took an indirect route. Last night I was able to get into the backroom of the gross anatomy lab. I have a roll of film that should prove very interesting.

There is an old newspaper on the bench. Pick up the paper and read it for a few minutes, then lay the paper down with the film beneath it as you leave. Then walk over and blend in with the crowd at the giraffe cage before you head back to class. Be certain that you are not being shadowed. Good work so far. But we have a problem that you need to address.

Problem?

Yes. You flunked the gross anatomy test, which calls attention to you. Our plan was for you to disappear into the first-year class as an average student with nothing remarkable about yourself. You don’t want to be at the top or the bottom of your class. So, take care of the gross anatomy score.

Woody bristled and said sharply, Do you have any idea how hard it is to be even in the middle of the class in a tough medical school like Grantland? There are a lot of sharks here that have been grade gunners all of their lives. And it’s not like all I have to worry about here is studying.

The man replied firmly, We spent two years grooming you for this assignment, and we are expecting a lot from you. Your work has great national security implications. I know that you won’t disappoint us. We will meet at 1 PM Saturday in two weeks at the downtown bus station. Dress like you are a loser waiting for a bus to Omaha. I’ll be wearing a Houston Astros cap. Be absolutely certain that you are not being followed.

Woody was stretched very thin trying to stay in the middle of the first-year medical school classes of gross anatomy, histology, physiology, biochemistry, and neuroanatomy. His goal was not to finish medical school, but he definitely could not flunk out. Somehow, he had to neutralize his failing grade in gross anatomy, as well as beat Justin on the next practical test as he had promised. Biochemistry was almost meaningless to Woody. Mastering the Krebs cycle and understanding how the Watson and Crick DNA double helix related to genetics and disease was challenging even for the full-time gunner students.

The man he met at Gunderson Park was his case officer and known to him only as Sanderson. Woody had a special telephone number that he was never to use except in a dire emergency. He thought back to the call he had received toward the end of his junior year in college from a federal recruiting officer. The call led to an intelligence/ aptitude test, medical examination, polygraph test, and a very thorough background check before Woody was offered a chance to train for the CIA clandestine service. His intelligence and physical condition, as well as the fact that his lawyer father had served as a combat officer in the Korean War, had attracted the agency. One other plus was Woody’s fluency in Russian, courtesy of his mother, who was a professor of Russian history at Yale.

That began an amazing eighteen months of clandestine service training and included six months of isolation under an assumed name at Camp Peary near Williamsburg, Virginia. The CIA has a covert training facility there known as the Farm that the United States never acknowledged for many years. Woody was extensively schooled in clandestine operations tradecraft, both for his personal need and for possible training of other agents. He learned the art of surveillance and surveillance detection. Woody developed hand-to-hand combat skills and became proficient with a number of weapons. He learned escape and evasion techniques, tactical driving, interrogation methods, cryptography, how to survive without sleep, and the art of exchanging secret information with coded writing using dead drops and brush passages.

All Woody had been told regarding his assignment was that the agency was desperate to identify Russian intelligence agents who apparently had been responsible for the disappearance of several CIA operatives over a period of four years. It was assumed that the agents had been killed, but no bodies had ever been discovered. It was thought that someone at Grantland Medical School might be involved.

Woody had no specific assignment until after meeting Sanderson again. This enabled him to buckle down and study his first-year courses until well after midnight every night. He decided that he could at least pass each of them.

However, there remained the little problem of beating the boy genius Justin on the next gross anatomy test. Each night at dinner at the fraternity house, Justin delighted in taunting Woody.

The night before the test, Justin stood up at the dinner table and proposed a toast to Woody, who was soon to be flunking out of school.

Kappa Kappa brothers, let’s toast Woody tonight before he crashes and burns tomorrow on the anatomy test. I figure two straight horrible scores will earn him a trip to the dean’s office and probation. Woody, if I were you, I wouldn’t waste any more time on anatomy. If you were smart, you would start studying for the LSAT tonight and forget about medical school. Any dummy can get into law school. What say we place an extra hundred on your beating me on the test?

Woody gave Justin a penetrating stare and replied, You are on, big boy. I’ll give Clarissa another hundred tonight if you do the same.

Done deal, my little loser friend. I’ve got this cadaver stuff down cold. You are soon going to be in a world of hurt.

Woody excused himself from the table. He had important plans for the late-night hours. After cramming as much anatomy as he could stomach, he slept for a few hours. He sat his mental alarm clock for 2 AM and awoke as planned. Once again, he dressed in black and quietly exited the fraternity house and headed for the medical school. Getting past the night guard was no challenge. Woody took the back steps to the dark second floor and found Professor Kreizler’s office. Picking the door lock was quickly done. Once in the pitch-black office, he used a tiny flashlight to find the locked middle desk drawer of the professor’s desk.

Just as he had hoped, the exam key was on the top of some papers in the drawer.

There were thirty questions and answers. Woody quickly memorized them, relocked the desk drawer, and was just about to enter the hall when he saw the light of the night guard’s flashlight shining on the office doors. The guard moved toward Professor Kreizler’s office, checking each door to make certain it was locked. Trouble. Woody could not afford to be caught in the building this late at night. He locked the door from the inside and quickly got under the big desk and sat motionless. The guard tried the door and found it locked. But something must have bothered him since he opened the door and was about to turn the light on when the small walkie-talkie on his belt suddenly gave a shrill whistle. The guard quickly left the office, leaving the door open, and ran down the hall to the stairs. Close call. Woody hastily went to the other end of the hallway and took those stairs down and waited until the short-of-breath guard reappeared near the front desk and headed back upstairs. Fifteen minutes later Woody was safely in his bed for three more hours of sleep.

CHAPTER 3

COMEUPPANCE AND GRISLY INFORMATION

Just prior to the start of the gross anatomy cadaver practical the next morning, Professor Kreizler addressed the class in his thick German accent and said ominously, "Students, I made this examination very hard to weed out any more shoemakers who are not fit to be doctors. The passing grade has