The Memory Painter: A Novel Page 20

  A quiet knock on the door interrupted them. Finn’s assistant came in and placed a tray of green tea between them. Then the door whispered shut.

  Finn nodded to Bryan. “Please, go on.”

  “Back then, the general consensus was that the brain didn’t have the capability to generate new cells, but studies in animals had begun to show otherwise. Michael believed that if animals possessed an innate ability for neurogenesis, humans must as well. His work centered on developing compounds to trigger the growth of new neurons—later it was considered light-years ahead of its time. He wanted to keep things quiet until he was certain of what he had and only shared his results with Diana and you,” he said, gesturing to Finn.

  “So he never published,” Linz said.

  “No. But the compounds he created and tested in preliminary animal studies showed four times the number of proliferating neurons as the control animals. And the mice exhibited a ninety percent improvement in memory skills.”

  Linz looked astonished. Her words tumbled out of her mouth with excitement. “Those findings are phenomenal. Neurodegenerative disease results in the slow death of the brain’s nerve cells. If it could be combated, it would revolutionize treatment across the board.”

  Bryan saw Finn studying Linz with a curious frown, probably wondering how she knew so much. Bryan continued, “Only one other scientist at Harvard conducted research that dealt with neurogenesis.” He cleared his throat. “Conrad’s goal was to create a protein that would not only keep nerve cells in the brain from dying but also increase their ability to function. In a move that was even more unorthodox, he introduced the protein as a virus.”

  Linz remained silent at the mention of her father. Finn still had no idea who she was.

  “Conrad’s approach intrigued Michael,” Bryan said. “He reached out in the hope that they could become colleagues.”

  For the first time Finn interrupted Bryan; he sounded bitter. “Conrad was an arrogant loner who thought he was God’s gift to science. I accepted the new addition to the group with less pleasure than Michael, even though I recognized his genius. No one could afford to be an isolationist. When our program at Harvard came to an end, the big question loomed—what to do next. Michael had the idea. Instead of pursuing the usual avenues—moving to a research institute, pharmaceutical company, or a hospital—he proposed that we combine our research and apply for a joint grant.”

  Bryan remembered the night Michael had pitched the idea over beers at Doc’s. He explained, “Michael’s protein had proven to be incredibly effective and would be the cornerstone for the whole study. His proposal was to use Conrad’s delivery system with his protein to create a virus and couple it with the compounds developed by Diana and Finn.”

  “Forcing the body’s immune system to respond by creating new neurons,” Linz summarized. “Basically, you attempted to create a super virus to combat all neurodegenerative diseases.” She shook her head in wonder.

  Finn smiled. “The proposal Michael drafted was too tantalizing for the National Institute of Aging to resist, and we received a sizable grant. After development, we entered a phase-one clinical trial, targeting severe Alzheimer’s patients in a double-blind, randomized control study. Within weeks, it became apparent which subjects took the placebo. The effects of the drug were that dramatic. And once we were well into the trial, we started preparing to present the first-round findings to the NIA review board to determine if we could broaden it. There were twelve test subjects taking the drug. By the final test stages, their symptoms had virtually disappeared.”

  “They all had Alzheimer’s? And it just went away?” Linz’s voice rose. “This never went public? Why?”

  “Because of what happened after Michael took the drug. By the end, we all had taken it.” Finn got up to pour them tea. As he held the teapot, the tremor in his hand was detectable. He set it back down. “When it became apparent Renovo had the ability to repair damaged minds, Michael began to ask what it would do to a healthy mind.”

  Linz leaned forward and burst out, “That’s insane.”

  Finn gave a grim smile of agreement. “But you can’t condemn our curiosity. We had yet to see a side effect on an animal or human. The risk seemed minimal. Within days, we began accessing remote memories of other lifetimes as real as our own, from people who lived hundreds, even thousands of years ago.” He stared hard at Linz. “You know your mother as your mother. But what if you suddenly remembered her as your wife? Your sister? Your husband? Your killer? Lifetimes became crossed. The human psyche, the ego, is not equipped to process such information.”

  Bryan challenged, “And yet we are processing it. Look at us now.”

  Finn nodded, conceding Bryan’s point. “Your ability to remember is beyond what we thought possible. Michael died under the drug. His mind must have remained opened and all those memories, that ability his higher mind was perfecting, must have carried over into this life. In essence, you inherited this capability from your previous self. You share the same higher mind. I have no other theory to offer.”

  “What about Diana?” Linz asked. “Did she die under the drug?”

  Finn shook his head no, as if the question were too painful to answer.

  “I don’t remember things, like him,” Linz clarified. “It’s just a recurring dream of one life.”

  “And you can speak Greek,” Bryan reminded her, shaking his head. He couldn’t believe she was still holding out.

  “You have fluency as well?” Finn asked Linz, looking surprised.

  “I think she has the ability to remember more, but her mind is holding back,” Bryan answered. Linz frowned at that.

  “Out of all of us, Diana took the least amount of Renovo, so perhaps her ability in this life is limited. After remembering ancient Rome, Diana was too terrified to move forward.” Finn stared at Linz like an exotic insect under a magnifying glass. “You’ve had that same dream your whole life? Fascinating.”

  Linz shifted in her chair, uncomfortable with Finn’s scrutiny. She changed the subject. “After Michael and Diana died, what happened to the test subjects?” she asked. “In the project file it says they were all from Forest Green Psychiatric Center.”

  Finn started in surprise. “How did you gain access to the file?”

  “My father…” she admitted, “is Conrad Jacobs.”

  Bryan held his breath, unsure of how this little bombshell would impact Finn.

  Finn swallowed several times before he said, “Your father is Conrad? You’re…”

  “Linz Jacobs.” She nodded, her eyes growing intent. “Did he take the drug too? As much as Michael?”

  Finn didn’t answer. Bryan explained, trying to fill the deafening silence and keep the conversation going, “Michael took Renovo over the longest period of time, but, yes, Conrad increased his own doses.”

  “Why has all of this been kept secret?” she demanded. “My father will barely admit he even knew you.” The questions tumbled out of her. “What happened the day they died?” Her eyes zeroed in on Finn. “I find it hard to believe you and my father are no longer speaking. You’re both happy to leave Renovo buried in Medicor’s archives?”

  Finn looked like he was at a loss for words. He stammered, “Your father and I lost touch over the years. I’m sorry for subjecting you to the ramblings of a crazy old Buddhist. Now, I’m very tired.” He looked agitated and ready for them to leave.

  Bryan leaned forward and spoke in Wardaman. “I know you’re afraid. Help me.”

  Finn replied in the same tongue. “He’s a very powerful man now. I didn’t realize … you need to leave Boston. Right away.”

  Bryan chose to continue avoiding English. “I can’t leave her.”

  “She’s his daughter. You’re the one in the greatest danger. He wanted us all dead, but you the most.”

  Bryan frowned in bewilderment. “Why? Why me?”

  “Come back tomorrow, alone. We’ll talk then.” Finn stood up and rifled through a book cabin
et, looking for something.

  Linz sat fascinated and bemused as they carried on in Wardaman.

  “These will confirm everything you remember about Michael’s life.” Finn handed Bryan five leather-bound journals. “Come again tomorrow. We have much to discuss.”

  Bryan stood to leave. They could talk at length when he returned. He signaled Linz that it was time to go.

  Linz held back. She wasn’t ready to go yet. “Dr. Rigby, I’m sorry if we’ve brought back pain from the past, but we really need answers.”

  “I’ve already said too much.” Finn declined to shake her hand as she held it out to him. “Don’t tell your father you came to see me. Please.” He left the room by a different door, leaving Bryan and Linz to find their way out.

  * * *

  Linz and Bryan were headed back toward his car when her frustration finally got the best of her. “Can I get a translation please? How many languages do you speak?”

  Bryan thought seriously about it before giving up. “I don’t know.”

  She stopped walking. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

  “I stopped counting a long time ago.”

  “Well, can you take a wild guess?” she asked, growing even more exasperated.

  “Over thirty?”

  “Thirty? You speak over thirty languages?” she yelped, on the verge of having a meltdown on the street corner. “Which ones?”

  “German, Russian, French, Dutch, Spanish, Chinese—Mandarin and Cantonese—Korean, Farsi, Italian, Latin—”

  “Okay, stop.” She held up her hand. “Just translate what he said.”

  “He said to be careful and gave me Michael’s journals.”

  “I know he said more than that. He had a coronary when he found out who I was. Why is he so afraid of my father?”

  Instead of answering, Bryan handed her the journals. “These were Michael’s diaries. I already know everything in them. They’re for you.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  DAY 31—MARCH 8, 1982

  Tonight Conrad finally admitted to recalling lifetimes. More than any of us, he has lost his way in the mire of memories. His attack on me was shocking and terrifyingly real. Who had he remembered, another one of the monsters who destroyed my life?

  I now believe a soul can hate another soul, wrap itself around the other and suffocate its light, releasing tragedy and pain as its venom.

  I can no longer reconcile the lives I’m remembering with my own. I fear I am losing my identity altogether, and I am not sure how much longer I can stay sane.

  Last night, when I dreamed of the Egyptian queen, I thought about my death again. I have begun to think it will happen soon. I’m not ready to die, but if I do, then at least this whole experience will be mercifully forgotten.

  Diana and I are meeting Finn at the lab tonight to pack our equipment and leave Boston. Simply changing the locks won’t do. We need to disappear in order to survive. Conrad is dangerous to us all.

  * * *

  “He wrote this entry the night he died?” Linz put down Michael’s journal and thought for the hundredth time, This can’t be true. Each word had shattered her heart.

  Bryan sat next to her on her sofa, remaining quiet. He gave the slightest nod.

  Her fingers fidgeted with the journal cover. Something inside of her snapped—she had reached her threshold. She stood up and threw it on the table. “Now I’m not only supposed to believe I’m this Diana woman, but that my father may have killed me?” She knew she was screaming but couldn’t stop herself. “Do you realize how insane this is? I can’t believe it! I can’t!”

  “Calm down.” Bryan reached out to her. “I know—”

  “What I’m feeling?” She jerked away from him. “No you don’t. I just read old diaries suggesting my father is Dr. Evil. Hell, you wrote them. Right?” She searched his face. “What happened after this?”

  Bryan kept silent. Linz stared at the journals, hating them, hating Bryan, hating herself for feeling what she felt. A bitter seed of doubt about her father had now been planted inside her and she could not stop its growth.

  She paced up and down the room, becoming more distraught as she tried to expel the implications of Michael’s journals. “If reincarnation is real, maybe I haven’t always been a saint either. Maybe I’ve killed. Maybe I’d become confused, crazy if I remembered everything at once. Who are we to judge?” She angrily wiped away her tears. “How do you even know my father did anything? How can you be sure I’m even Diana?”

  “Don’t get angry at me. You read it yourself. Diana’s memories of Juliana are the same as your dreams.”

  “So you expect me to believe the worst of my father without any proof? Well I won’t.”

  “Finn thinks if Conrad knew who I was, he’d kill me,” Bryan countered.

  Linz barked out a laugh. “Please, now that’s delusional.”

  “He told me to leave town.”

  “Fine. Go back to Canada. Do us all a favor.” She winced as she said it. She had never argued like this with anyone in her life.

  Bryan had lost all of his patience. “Linz, I am trying to explain to you what the hell is going on. Stop being so damn defensive!” He grabbed her shoulders.

  “Get your hands off me.” She wrenched herself away from him.

  They stood three feet apart. Bryan was yelling loud enough for the neighbors to hear. “The problem is you don’t remember! And until you do, we’re going to have this wall between us that I can’t climb! All I can do is wait for you. And I will! I won’t go anywhere. I don’t care what the hell happens to me. I’ll wait!” He threw on his jacket and began to leave.

  Linz had never seen him so livid. But a part of her took grim satisfaction in it. She wanted him to hurt as much as she did. “Hey,” she called out. Bryan turned around, a slight look of hope on his face. Instead she held out the journals. “Get these out of my house.”

  Bryan took them and left without another word. Linz slammed the door behind him—and her eyes settled on the Renovo file. It was sitting on her coffee table. She needed more answers than Michael’s journals had provided and the scientist within her knew this would be the best place to look.

  Galvanized, she opened the file and read every page. An hour later, she read it again, this time taking notes at lightning speed, her mind in overdrive as she worked to break down the formula. She could see now that this was the only way.

  When she was finished, she gathered her computer, her keys, and the file with quick efficiency. She was ready to get her proof.

  * * *

  On the corner a street bum sang “Some Enchanted Evening” at the top of his lungs.

  Bryan put some money into the man’s cup and used it as an excuse to look back at the two men following him. After he’d left Linz’s, he had driven back to his place, dropped off the journals, and then promptly left to go for a long walk, hoping it would help him cool down. He had become aware of the men’s presence five blocks ago.

  Bryan kept walking. So did they.

  * * *

  Inside the Medicor building across town, Conrad’s office appeared deserted. His computer monitor flashed in the dark, casting a ruby light around the room that made the statue of Atlas look like it was covered in blood. The message on the screen read: “Security Override: Project File Renovo. Accessed by L. Jacobs.”

  * * *

  Downstairs in the lobby, Linz walked past the night guard toward the elevators. Her cell phone rang. She looked at the caller ID and froze—he never called her.

  She decided to pick up, forcing her voice to sound normal. “Hi … sorry I’ve been out of touch.”

  “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Conrad said, shutting the door to his office and heading to the elevator.

  “I’m fine,” she assured him.

  Neither spoke as each waited for the other to say something.

  Conrad finally asked, “Did you read the file?”

  “I did. You were right. It’s
better not to get involved. Clean break.”

  Conrad got into the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby. “Are you out? Do you want to meet for a late dinner?”

  “No, I’m already at home. Why, where are you?”

  “Leaving the office.”

  Linz looked around in dismay. She was right smack in the middle of the lobby and sure to run into him. The lights above the elevator bank showed that there was one on its way down, and there was a good chance that Conrad was in it. He asked again, “Sure you’re okay?”

  “Dad, I’m fine.” Trying not to draw attention to herself, she rounded the corner just as the elevator opened. He stepped out.

  “Well, I was just worried. Try and get some sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you.”

  He waved to the guard and walked out the front door. Linz peeked out from around the corner and watched him leave. “Me too.”

  * * *

  Bryan took note of his surroundings and saw he had entered the club district on Lansdowne Street. The men had not stopped tailing him. In fact, they were gaining. Bryan looked over his shoulder. This was bad. There was no choice—he broke out into a run.

  They chased after him.

  Bryan sprinted hard and was wheezing by the second block. He wasn’t used to running, and he could feel his body slowing down. He tried to focus his memories on Mandu, who was the fastest runner in the Wardaman tribe—Bryan might not have his body, but he did have his memories. Immediately his breathing began to slow, his legs relaxed, and the earth rushed beneath him as his speed increased.

  Stealing a look behind him, he saw the men break into a dead run. They were both in excellent shape. Bryan pushed even harder and managed to put a few blocks between them.

  Rounding a corner, he ducked into an alley and dove right into a dumpster and covered himself with garbage. Then he waited.

  Five minutes later, he heard the men outside. They were both breathing heavily from the exertion.

  One of them said, “Damn, that bastard’s fast. Did you see him turn?”

  They passed the dumpster and continued down the street. The second man ordered, “Check across. I’ll meet you at the next block.”