The Click

It was well past the dinner hour when Elana Wu finally left Charlottesville for

home in the outskirts of Georgetown. She gave Barnaby a hug good-bye and zipped away in her black Trident Racer. After swerving around the corner, she discovered a VAMA hearse tailing her. All the way through Virginia it followed close behind as she switched from one lane to another. At one point she swerved to the right and climbed up an exit ramp, successfully losing her tail, she thought. After travelling along a number of side streets paralleling the speedway she jumped back on … and VAMA was waiting. “How in the …”

Finally, somewhere just before her speedster reached the Potomac River it disappeared. She took a deep breath and crossed the bridge into the District wondering what she was getting into. It seemed forever ago that she received her student visa, a challenging but straight forward feat with no complications. Her work visa after graduating number one in her class with a PhD was another matter, more like navigating the top edge of the of the Great Wall from end to end on one foot. The Chinese government paid for her entire education and wanted their investment back, the deal she agreed upon and was comfortable with before her parents were killed, before she and Barnaby became so close. She kept requesting extensions on the grounds that what she was learning in her position at the university was invaluable. They would do anything to get her back, she thought while periodically glancing in her rearview mirror and not seeing any signs of a tail. How long would she be able to stay, especially if she winds up doing battle with the Cūtocracy and VAMA?

Less than fifteen minutes later she dropped to the ground, rolled into her designated slot, 27A, and stepped out of the speedster when a VAMA hearse, maybe the same one, came to a SCREECHING halt less than three feet away. Startled, she recoiled as Oedipus and a new partner jumped out and grabbed her. With one very large hand that smelled like a mixture of bacon lard and shrimp peels cupped around her mouth, she

could do nothing but struggle in the arms of both men who dragged her into the hearse and sped away.

By the time she found herself sitting on a backless stool in a small room filled with all types of contraptions, her legs ached and her head sagged from exhaustion. A hot light shined down, like that in a dental office, practically blinding her to the strange face just inches away. The words kept echoing around her. What were you doing there, there, there? What did you talk about, about, about, about? How do you know Oliver Hitchcock, Cock, Cock, Cock? Why were the three of you meeting, eeting, eeting? She could hear herself respond. We’re all friends, friends, ends, ends. That’s all, all, all, all.

Rousseau turned off the hot light and stepped back. “You’re lying!”

Oedipus jumped in between them and gave Elana a backhand across the face with such force she fell to the floor, causing her glasses to fly.

“Get up, bitch,” Rousseau demanded as she picked up Elana Wu’s glasses and threw them at her.

Elana did as she was told, tasting the blood oozing from the edge of her mouth. When the room finally stopped spinning she saw Oedipus hand Rousseau a transparent plastic bag filled with white powder. Rousseau dangled it in front of her, back and forth, back and forth, much like a hypnotist looking for answers. “Interesting. How did this high grade China White found its way under the carpet in your trunk?”

“It’s not mine and you know it.”

“Ah, but it is, and this little bag may just be your one-way ticket back to Shanghai?”

“No one who knows me would believe that.”

Rousseau laughed. “I’m sure you will be long gone before anyone who knows you is told. So tell me the truth! … And wipe that hellish blood from your mouth.”

Oedipus threw her a box of tissues.

“I told you the truth.” Elana insisted as she pressed a tissue to her lips. “Hitchcock, Bloom, friends? You told me nothing. The three of you were

conspiring to …”

“Yes. We were conspiring to have a lovely day and evening. They played chess most of the day and I read.”

Rousseau jumped back into Elana’s face. “Chess, my ass. Now, if you want to stay out of a Chink dungeon, tell me about your work and how Hitchcock is involved.”

Elana tried her best to explain what it meant to be professor of immunology and her focus on recombinant DNA techniques, cell fusion, and bioprocessing techniques in hopes of boring Rousseau to death, but clearly avoided vaccination science and anything else that could be tied to the Click. This seemed to go on forever. She lost count the number of times she had to repeat herself and continuously insisted her work had nothing to do with the ERAM-V vaccine.

Finally Rousseau sat back, as if she were terminating the inquisition. The Clock read 2:55 in the morning. Elana, weary and exhausted, yet defiant, fidgeted on the stool and glared at her. She may wind up back in Beijing but she was going to go with dignity.

After that brief respite, Rousseau jumped from her chair. “One last time. What do you know about the ERAM-V vaccine?”

“Again, about as much as I know about chess … nothing.”

Clearly frustrated, Rousseau grabbed Elana by the collar, yanked her across the room, slammed her against the wall, and looked over to Oedipus. “Drag the bitch downstairs.”

Oedipus gripped Elana by the shoulder and led her to another room. He pushed a keypad on the wall and a sliding door opened up to a downwardly spiraling staircase. He pushed her down the staircase to a series of empty dungeon cells and locked her in one of them.

CLINK! The small steel door, more like a child’s playhouse door or large doggie door, seemed to seal Elana’s fate. The only light snuck through the door’s small window exposing a mattress sitting atop a wooden frame. She could barely see the cruddy toilet and sink in one corner. As she approached the mattress and saw how terribly soiled it was, she quickly turned to the toilet and vomited.