Michael Palmer: Side Effects

Becker slid the dish across. Here he was, bewildered, apprehensive, and totally off balance, and still with no idea of the reason for Millier's visit. Inwardly, and grudgingly, he smiled. The man was slick. A total bastard, but a slick one. "I believe in my research, if that is what you mean."

"Precisely."

"And your research, Franz, how does it go? " Time for a counterthrust.

"It goes and it stops and it goes again. You know how that is."

Sure, sure, but mostly it doesn't exist, Becker wanted to say. Instead, he nodded his agreement. "Willi, my friend, I fear the war will be over anytime now. Weeks, days, hours, no one seems to know. I have no notion of what will happen to us-to those in our laboratory-after that. Perhaps our research will be made public, perhaps not. I feel it is crucial for each unit, Blue, Green, and Brown, to know exactly the nature and status of the work being done by the others. That way, we can be as well prepared as possible for whatever the future brings." Becker's eyes widened. "I have decided to start with your Green Unit, " Miiller went on. "A meeting has been scheduled for twenty-one hundred hours this evening in the Blue Unit conference room. Please be prepared to present your research in detail at that time."

"What?"

"And Willi, I would like time to study your data before then. Please have them on my desk by nineteen hundred hours." Miiller's eyes were flint. Becker felt numb. His data, including the synthesis and biological properties of Estronate 250, were sealed in a dozen notebooks, hidden in the hull of a certain Rostock fishing boat. His mind raced. "My… my work is very fragmented, Franz. I… I shall need at least a day, perhaps two, to organize my data." This can't be happening, he thought. Nineteen hundred hours is too early. Even twenty-one hundred hours is too soon. "Let me show you what I have,"

Becker said, reaching toward the drawer with the Walther. At that instant, Dr. Josef Rendi stepped inside the office doorway. Rendi's aide, a behemoth whom Becker knew only as Stossel, remained just outside in the hall. They had been somewhere out there all the time. Becker felt sure of it. Rendl, a former pediatrician, was a short, doughy man with a pasty complexion and a high-pitched laugh, both of which Becker found disgusting. Becker's information had it that Rendl's mother was a Jew, a fact that had been carefully concealed. For a frozen second, two, Becker sized up the situation. Miiller was but two meters away, Rendl three, and the animal, Stossel, perhaps five. No real chance for three kills, even with surprise on his side, which, it seemed now, might not be the case. The battle would have to be verbal… at least for the moment.

Becker nodded at the newcomer. "Welcome, Josef. My, my. The entire Blue Unit brain trust. What a pleasant honor."

"Willi." Rendl smiled and returned the gesture. "Leutnant Stossel and I were just passing by and noticed the two of you in here. What do you think of the meetings? A good idea to present our work to one another, no?

" You smarmy son of a Jenv whore, Becker thought. "Yes. Yes. An excellent idea, " he said. "And you will honor us by presenting the Green Unit biochemical studies tonight? " Rendi, though an oberst, exactly the same rank as Willi, often spoke with Miiller's authority dusting his words. Becker, fighting to maintain composure, sucked in an extra measure of air. "Tonight would be acceptable." Both of the other men nodded. "But, " he added, "tomorrow evening would be much better."

Because, he smiled to himself, I intend to be a thousand kilometers away from here by then. "Oh? " Franz Miiller propped his chin on one hand.

"Yes. I have a few final chemical tests to run on Estronate Two-fifty, Some loose ends in the initial set of experiments." As Becker scrambled through the words, searching for some kind of purchase, an idea began to take hold. "There's an extraction with ether that I was unable to complete because my supply ran out. Late yesterday, several five gallon tins arrived. You signed for them yourself." Miiller nodded. Becker's words became more confident. "Well, if you would give me tonight to complete this phase of my work, I shall gladly present what I have tomorrow. You must remember that what I have is not much. Estronate Two-fifty is far more theory than fact. A promising set of notions, with only the roughest of preliminary work on humans."

Miiller pushed himself straighter in his chair and leveled his gaze across the desk. "Actually, Willi, I do not believe that what you say is true." The words, a sledgehammer, were delivered with silky calm. "Wh..

what are you talking about? " The question in Becker's mind was no longer whether Miiller knew anything, but how much. His trump card-Blue Unit's falsified data-would have to be played. The only issue now was timing. "What I am talking about is information that your work on Estronate Two-fifty is rather advanced."

"That's nonsense, " Becker shot back. "Further, that you are lacking only stability studies and the elimination of a troublesome side effect-some sort of bleeding tendency, is it? — before more extensive clinical testing can be done. Why, Willi, are you keeping this information from us? You have here, perhaps, the most awesome discovery-even the most awesome weapon-of our time, yet you claim to know nothing."

"Ridiculous."

"No, Willi. Not ridiculous. Information straight from a source in your laboratory. Now either we receive a full disclosure of the exact status of your work, or I shall see to it that Mengele or even Himmier receives the information we have."

"Your accusations are preposterous."

"We shall judge that after you have presented your work. Tonight, then? "

"No. Not tonight."

It was time. "My work is not ready for presentation." Becker paused theatrically, drumming his fingertips on the desktop and then stroking them bowlike across one another. "Is yours?"

"What?"

Becker sensed, more than saw, Miiller stiffen. "Your work. The Blue Unit radiation studies. You see, the two of you are not the only ones with-what was the word you used? — ah, yes, sources, that was it.

Sources."

Rendl and Miiller exchanged the fraction of a glance. The gesture was enough to dispel any doubt as to the validity of Becker's information.

"Willi, Willi, " Miiller said, shaking his head. "You try my patience. I shall give you until tomorrow night. Meanwhile, we shall organize our data and present them at the same time."

"Excellent, " Becker said, reveling in being on the offensive at last.

"And, please, do try to have some of your human subjects available for examination. It would lend so much to the understanding of your work."

This time, Miiller and Rendl shared a more pronounced look. "You don't really care, Willi, do you?" Miiller said suddenly. "I… I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, Franz."

"You see only yourself. Your place in history. The here and now mean nothing to you. Germany, the Reich, the Jews, the Americans, the prisoners, your colleagues-all are the same to you. All are nothing., @ "You have your mistresses, and I have mine, " Becker said simply. "Is immortality so homely that I should throw her out of my bed? You are right, Franz. I do not concern myself with petty day-to-day issues. I have already reached planes of theory and research that few have ever even dreamed of. Should I worry about the price of eggs, or whether the Fiihrer's hemorrhoids are inflamed, or whether the prisoners here at Ravensbriick are pathetic inside the wire or without, on top of the dirt or beneath it?"

"Willi, Willi, Willi."

Miiller's voice and eyes held pity rather than reproach. Becker looked over at Rendl, and there, too, saw condescension, not ire. Don't you dare pity me, he wanted to scream. Revere me. The children of your children will prosper because of me. The lebensraum for which so many have fought and died will be attained not with bullets, but with my equations, my solution. Mine!