Feng Shui Assassin

  *

  Professor Saul Anderson knocked timidly on the meeting room door and walked through. The boardroom was dark, with the only illumination the pale glow of a laptop screen at the far end of the table. The figure slumped in front of the glow turned to him.

  'Welcome, Professor.' Duvalier beckoned him into the room. Anderson sat at his usual place setting, looking blankly around at the empty chairs. In the semi darkness he could almost believe the shadows of the dead trustees sat at their places, accusing him with hollow stares.

  'What do I need to do?' Anderson asked, his voice cracking with nerves.

  'Everything is in hand. As it has always been.' Duvalier turned the laptop toward Anderson. 'Enter the necessary codes into the account access sites, if you please.'

  Professor Anderson stared at the screen and tapped in an eight digit number. He pressed enter and watched the screen flicker and roll onto the Trust accounts page.

  Papa Doc reclaimed the laptop and drifted through the accounts tabs, clicking and tapping at the keyboard. Anderson watched him for half an hour. Papa Doc worked in silence, hunched over the laptop like a vulture, his black eyes hungry.

  'What happens now?' Anderson asked.

  'Now?' Papa Doc glanced from his work, eyes wide and face shiny. 'Now, we reap what we sew. Decades of preparation building up to this one glorious moment. This is the moment that the buttons are pressed and the world ends. Or at least my world begins.'

  'You mean that disease ends. The end to all suffering. A cure to the ills of the world.'

  'Ah, yes,' Duvalier resumed tapping at the laptop. 'That.'

  'We are investing in the Genome project and the technical access that it provides, aren't we?' Anderson asked. 'I signed the final documents as sole representative to the Trust. I have a responsibility to know that these things are being done.'

  'Charting the ancestral stepping stones for the Book of Life?' said Papa Doc. 'Yes, yes. It is all going forward as planned. The workforce in Karachi is now under our employ, dedicated to serving up the remaining gaps in our knowledge tree. We will have the entire population of the world accounted for by tomorrow morning. And then the fun begins.'

  'The fun?' Anderson said. 'You mean the analysis. Tomorrow our work starts. Identifying every disease and disorder, every malfunction and illness. All mapped out to every individual in the world. The glory I will receive when we reveal the one true map of life to the scientific community, and the world.'

  'Your glory?' Papa Doc smiled. 'Ah yes, your glory.' He paused. 'I am going to die in a few day's time. Natural causes, if you are interested. No cards necessary. A gift to your favourite charity in lieu of flowers, thank you.'

  'Die?' Anderson said, his train of thought derailed by the admission.

  'I have extended my life for as long as I can. Through the death of innocents. Many pacts with the Devil, you might say. But there is only so much this earthly frame can withstand. And my time is nearing.'

  'I . . . I'm sorry to hear that,' Anderson said.

  'Sorry? I think not.' Papa Doc cracked his knuckles and smiled. 'But then, I have secured my future in the afterlife, Professor. Bought myself the ability to withstand the tides of hatred that awaits my death.'

  'Does this have anything to do with your junk DNA project? Do you have an answer?'

  'An answer, yes. And one that may well surprise you!' Papa Doc removed a purple kerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his forehead. 'You see, I know the secrets of the so-called junk DNA.

  'The evidence has been all around for your scientific community - alas, too aloof to hold much credence in alternate medicines, eastern practices or new age theories.

  'As the genome project is mapping the known DNA and calling it the Book of Life - we are currently mapping the junk DNA and calling it the Book of the Soul.

  'As we can determine the DNA sequences for the physical in an individual, so we can identify the DNA sequences of his soul. His spirit. His very being. We can look into the very heart of a man's soul.'

  Duvalier gritted his teeth as he spoke, a glimmer of madness in his eyes.

  'And once I know it, I can own it.'

  Professor Anderson stood in shocked silence. 'This really is ridiculous. You can't measure a man's soul. Let alone manipulate it or . . . or own it.'

  'Just cannot let go of that empirical thinking, can you Professor. But what if the soul can be measured? And weighed, and considered and, even, dissected. This little project of ours will account for every living person's junk DNA. The Genome project mapped the useful DNA - we will be mapping the rest. Every blood sample ever taken, logged and scanned and traced through the population of the world.'

  'And you think that will show you what a man's soul looks like?' Anderson could barely keep the mocking scoff from his voice, 'I would dearly like to see that.'

  Duvalier clapped his hands together. 'Well. You are in luck, Professor, because I can show you exactly what a man's soul looks like.'

  Papa Doc snapped the laptop shut and walked to the door. He turned and waited impatiently until Anderson followed him. They strode through the quiet corridors to the lifts, where Papa Doc punched the button for the top floor.

  They travelled to the top floor in silence. The doors swished open and they walked into a glass-roofed office. Anderson had never visited this top level and he gazed above him at the stars, pale yellow moon and the black outline of clouds that scudded gently across the night sky.

  A glass top dome amplified the star-light within the large room, and Anderson appreciated the architecture of the construction. It gave the impression of the interior of a cathedral, albeit open to the skies.

  'Very impressive.' Anderson said, turning to Duvalier. But he was nowhere to be seen. It was then he took in the rest of the room. It certainly had no place in the modern city office.

  A strange stone idol dominated the far end, hewn from red and grey clay, with spots of shiny wetness around the edges. It resembled some ethnic fertility god with teeth. There was also the acrid aroma of poultry close by.

  A hand clamped Anderson's head to one side and a sharp pinprick jabbed into his neck. His body buzzed and became like runny dough and he was lowered to the floor by unseen hands. Papa Doc loomed out of nowhere and leaned in close to him, smiling his bleached white, tombstone smile.

  'Not long now, Professor. Then all will be revealed and you will finally, truly understand.'