Jack looked at his watch. It was 12:48P.M., which explained to him why he was hungry. He wished he’d taken the time to get some takeout from the coffee shop on his arrival, as his stomach was complaining. But he’d made up his mind. He wasn’t going to move until Ted emerged.
Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how Jack looked at what ended up happening—Ted did not appear. Instead a group of four rather large, serious-looking, spiffily uniformed Asian security guards suddenly materialized. Jack had not seen them coming, as he was desperate enough to be actually reading an article about the economics of running an outpatient clinic. He became aware only after they had silently congregated in a semicircle in front of him. They were all youthful, trim of figure, and athletic-looking. All of them wore sunglasses. There were no smiles. It was a humorless, no-nonsense quartet.
In contrast to most hospital security personnel with whom Jack was familiar, these men were armed with holstered sidearms. As Jack was later to learn, they were part of the detail tasked with providing the security around GeneRx and the Farm, not part of the regular hospital security team.
“We would like you to come with us,” the guard with three stripes on his epaulets said. He had no accent. His colleagues had either one or two stripes. He was clearly the leader.
“Sorry,” Jack said. “I’m waiting to speak with Dr. Markham.”
“That is not going to happen. Stand up!” the guard said. There was no inflection in his voice. It was clearly an order. “We are here to escort you.”
“Escort me to where?” Jack said. He had the impression he was about to be forcibly deported back to New York City. With the sense of having been used vis-à-vis the autopsy and then summarily discarded, he felt his anger begin to rekindle.
“I was told to accompany you to Dr. Wei Zhao’s home,” the guard said.
“Oh, well, then. How apropos,” Jack commented. Apparently, he wouldn’t need Ted’s help in getting to Zhao after all. He started to get up but then hesitated. All at once the guard’s wording struck a chord. It sounded as if it had been an order, which evoked a reflexive pushback. Jack felt as if he’d been ordered around much too much of late, culminating in his administrative leave.
“If this is for another luncheon, I think I’ll pass,” Jack said superciliously. He reclaimed his seat and pretended to go back to his reading.
The guard barked a few orders in what again sounded to Jack like Mandarin. Jack was aware of a series of snapping noises, which he realized were the other three guards unsnapping the tabs holding their sidearms in their holsters. He then heard a jingling, and when he looked up the chief guard was clutching a pair of handcuffs. When Jack looked at the other three guards he saw they were all holding on to the butts of their holstered weapons. He got the message. These guys were not fooling around. Worse yet, facing these guards was bringing back last night’s shooting episode in searing detail, a memory Jack was trying his best to avoid thinking about.
“Stand up!” the guard said. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
Jack nervously glanced at the eight unblinking eyes boring into him. He stood and did as he was told. If it had been one security person, he might not have been so amenable. But four was an overwhelming force. “This seems like a major overreaction,” Jack said. He winced as the handcuffs were applied.
The guard then forcibly gripped Jack’s left upper arm and urged him forward. One of the other guards picked up his jacket. As a group,they marched the length of the crowded clinic. Patients waiting to be seen glanced up at him. He wondered what they were thinking. He thought of some great comments—“This is what they do here if you don’t pay your deductible on time”—but he didn’t say anything. It was all rather embarrassing.
The final indignity was that they didn’t use the regular elevator. They marched him down to the freight elevator, which they used to get to the basement and a freight dock at the rear of the building. There they had yet another black Suburban. Jack was put in the backseat between two of the lower-ranked guards. The chief guard got in the front passenger seat, and the fourth man drove. It was all very sober. No one spoke.
38
THURSDAY, 1:20 P.M.
Somewhat reminiscent of the silent ride from Manhattan out to Dover, the first conversation didn’t occur until the SUV stopped at the security gate on the driveway into Wei Zhao’s home. It was between the driver and the guard in the gatehouse, who made visual contact with everyone in the car. Jack had no idea what was said, because it wasn’t in English. He assumed it was Mandarin, just as he assumed his guard detail were all Chinese.
The same as yesterday, they parked at the foot of the flagstone walkway that led up to the house. Everyone piled out. It was a little difficult for Jack due to the handcuffs, but one of the guards who had been sitting next to him lent a hand. Once outside the car, the chief guard told Jack to turn around. When Jack did so, he removed the handcuffs.
“Handcuffing me certainly was unnecessary,” Jack said as he rubbed his chafed wrists. It had not been a comfortable ride. The guard did not respond. Instead he handed Jack his jacket and merely pointed up toward the house. Jack got the message and started up the walkway. He sensed all four guards were following but didn’t turn to look. Their heels clicked against the slate in a staccato fashion as if they were marching in step.
Once again, the door was opened the moment Jack approached. Kang-Dae bowed while Jack stepped within. When he turned around, he saw that the four guards were right behind him. They, too, entered the foyer.
“The boss is again in the gym,” Kang-Dae said to Jack. Clearly, he had expected him. “I will show you.” With another bow, he started off exactly as he had done yesterday.
For Jack it was a déjà vu experience that wasn’t all that pleasant as he followed Kang-Dae. Since his last visit had been only the day before, his aggrieved mental state when he had left was all too poignant. He vowed to be in more control today, although things were hardly starting out on the right foot.
After only a few steps he realized the guards were not following, which was a relief. Their single-mindedness and silence made Jack distinctly uncomfortable. Jack relied heavily on the power of words and communication as the way to control circumstances.
As Jack entered the gym, he was again surprised at its size, despite it being less than twenty-four hours since he’d been there. It was so unexpected in a private house. He could see Wei in the distance using a piece of exercise equipment. Without saying a word, Kang-Dae stepped aside and gestured for Jack to proceed on his own while he took a seat at the door.
As Jack passed the line of exercise machines he wondered if there was a separate machine for every muscle in the human body. To him it all seemed excessive and unnatural. It was his opinion that a good workout on the basketball court was better, as it forced muscles to work together in tandem the way they had evolved to function. At the same time, he thought any exercise was vastly better than no exercise.
It was apparent to Jack that Wei had to have seen him coming, but the bodybuilder didn’t stop what he was doing. As Jack got nearer he could hear the man speak with each repetition. Jack guessed he was counting in Mandarin.
The exercise that Wei was doing was for his back and gluteal muscles. With his hands clasped behind his head and holding a fifteen-pound weight, he was lying prone in an apparatus that supported his thighs and held his heels in place so that he could alternately bend at the waist and then raise his torso to the horizontal. Such effort seemed to Jack a poor substitute for the fun and camaraderie fostered by team sports. It even reminded him of the myth of Sisyphus.
While he waited, Jack had to admire once again the man’s physique. He was dressed as he had been yesterday, in sweats and a V-neck black top, possibly with a bit of spandex, that showed off his muscles. Noticing the girth of his biceps made Jack wonder if Wei had ever been tempted to take anabolic steroids, despite their associated dangers.
After watching Wei complete fourteen repetitions—Jack counted by reflex—Jack felt his patience wearing thin, especially since his presence was a command performance via the chief guard. Despite his vow to keep himself under control, Jack felt his ire rising. Was Wei’s ignoring him a way of putting him in his place? As if sensing these thoughts, Wei suddenly stopped and disentangled himself from the apparatus. He was breathing reasonably heavily and perspiring.
