Operation Jiddo

Chapter 14

THE WHITE-WALLED CRYO room gleamed in the low light, every surface spotless and

orderly. The brown cement floors glistened like solidified maple syrup, but not every corner was

clinically sterile. Squeezed behind the cabinet that held the pipes and wiring for the cryo beds, a

rat gnawed on a cable that led to bed number three. Gripping the rubber-encased cord in his

claws, he chewed the cable as if it were an ear of corn, stopping briefly whenever footsteps

passed in the hall. At 9:20 on a Friday morning, half of the Nova Bio staff had arrived to work

and the others were shuffling in every few minutes.

Soon all but a thread of a one-inch section cable had disappeared and the rat finished it

off with one final snap. At 9:30, current began to flow through the cable and stopped at the break

as another set of cords automatically shut down. The rat slinked backward and settled into the

dark, warm corner while a series of red lights began flashing on bed number three. Alarm lights

blinked in the lab next door, but the night technician, who had suffered from a migraine all night,

had left twenty minutes early without waiting for his morning replacement.

Vapor replaced the white frost inside the capsule of bed number three and swirled

beneath the transparent cover. Lights continued to flash in the empty lab next door. The

technicians absence was still unnoticed another twenty minutes later. At nearly 10:30, the lid to

bed number three opened with a whoosh. Latif coughed and hit his forehead on the Lucite cover,

popping it fully open.

He sat up, rubbed his damp face, and coughed again. What in Gods name? he

muttered, rubbing his legs together to fend off the cold. He swung himself out of the bed and

leaned against the wall until he regained his balance. Eyeing a set of scrubs on a chair, he slowly

put them on, and then covered himself in a robe hanging on the door. He pulled the rubber cap

from his head and swept his hands through his greasy hair. Still half-imbedded in a dream, he

opened the door and covered his eyes from the light with his forearm. Bracing himself with the

other arm against the wall, he shuffled down the hallway toward the bright red exit sign. They

are waiting for me. I left my notes to my speech on the podium. Im almost ready, but I must find

my suit.

Latif peeked below his arm to look for doors along the wall. When he reached the exit, he

walked through and began climbing the stairs. My black suit is upstairs. Ive only got five

minutes before they introduce me. Ive got to hurry, but why cant I move any faster? He pressed

against the walls with both hands and strained to take each step as if climbing through shin-deep

mud. Behind him and beyond the door, most of the staff was in the dining room having lunch.

The security guard rested an empty paper plate on his belly as he read the newspaper, ignoring

the stairway monitor and the figure inching across it.

At the top of the stairs, Latif pushed open the door and stumbled onto the sidewalk.

Squinting in the cold sunlight, he rested against a brick wall and slid along it toward the souvenir

shop next door. He mumbled to himself as he shuffled through a rack of sweatshirts.

Where is my SUIT? he said. Feeling as if he were still dragging his limbs through mud,

he lost his footing and tipped over the rack. A woman rushed out from the shop, took one look at

the swaggering man in scrubs with black hair matted flat against his skull and dark eyebrows

drawn angrily together.

Look what you do! she yelled, picking up the rack and running back into the shop.

Several people across the street stopped to watch. Both sides of the street were crowded

with people coming and going from the nearby courthouses and government offices, and the

flow of traffic on Latifs side of the street formed an arc to avoid him. He drew his forearm up to

shield his eyes and continued to mutter in drawn-out, sloppy speech.

Im late. Theyre waiting for me. He pulled a small, ornate letter opener from the

pocket of the robe but did not recognize it.

A woman standing nearby in a suit with a scarf wrapped around her shoulders called 911

on her cell phone. Passers by widened the space in front of Latif and dipped into the street to

avoid him. A man in a white apron came out of a restaurant across the street, looked at Latif with

the blade in his hand and ran up the street.

A few minutes later a patrol car stopped at the corner and two uniformed officers rushed

down the sidewalk. The woman pointed out Latif, who was partially hidden by a rack of

souvenirs.

Hes either drunk or on drugs, she said, walking quickly beside the police. Hes got a

hospital gown on and he looks Middle Eastern.

The policemen stopped a few feet from Latif and watched him for a moment as he

swayed from side to side, hiding his eyes with his arm.

Hes got a knife! the woman said, standing behind the Asian officer.

The officers moved in and swept him to the wall, face first. The black officer grabbed his

hands and cuffed them behind his back with a stiff plastic cord.

Erikson and Thalberg strode out of the unmarked door next to the souvenir shop and

stopped abruptly at the sight of Latif and the police. Erikson thrust his arm in front of Thalberg

to prevent him from moving down the sidewalk toward them.

He looks disoriented, Erikson whispered.

Thalberg pushed Eriksons arm away. We cant let them take him.

Erikson stepped in front of him. We dont have any choice. What are we going to tell

the police, that hes our underground drug trial subject?

They watched the officers grab Latif by the elbows and walk him toward them, then past

and toward the car. After passing Erikson and Thalberg, Latif struggled to get free.

Wait! These men are waiting for me! I have to get dressed first! I cant go in front of

them like this!

The officers turned their heads to look at the two men.

Do you know this man? shouted the Asian officer.

No, Erikson shot back. Ive never seen the poor devil before.

Thalberg pulled a cigarette out of his shirt pocket and shook his head at the officer

without saying a word.

Latif lost his footing again and sagged heavily in their grasp. The officers moved on and

pushed him into the back of the car. The black officer pressed a button on the radio clipped to his

shoulder and called the Fifth Precinct.

Middle Eastern male, aggressive and inebriated, he said. He switched on the lights and sirens

while the other officer swung the car around the corner and drove toward Elizabeth Street.