somewhere. Were his captors using the Americans to carry out the execution, or did they have a new level of torture designed for him?
With his left cheek pressed against the cool, hard concrete, he could only make out the movements of the men with his right eye. Their actions were coordinated, more practiced and efficient than the brutal handling he’d received from his fellow Arabs. Their uniforms were devoid of markings, and they communicated with each other using nods and hand gestures rather than speech. After the man finished with the leg irons, he approached Mousa’s head. Mousa saw that he was carrying a black sack in his hand, about the size of an extra-large bag of rice. The man kneeling on his back shifted his weight and then lifted Mousa’s upper torso off the ground.
Just before they pulled the bag over his head, he noticed a movement high up on the wall. The beetle had reached the edge of the window. He watched as it crested the edge of the sill and disappeared through the iron bars into the light of freedom.
Then his world went dark.
CHAPTER 13
SSS, YALE UNIVERSITY
----
“S o then, I’m not crazy, am I?”
A woman in her mid-fifties, wearing simple black cotton pants and a black turtleneck, reclined in the green leather chair underneath the Logos. Her head was shaved, the stubble on top a silver gray. Her robes hung on the brass coat stand by the door.
“If only we were all as sane as you, Sister Terri,” Elijah said from his stool beside the Logos. He wore a white lab coat over a black T-shirt with red lettering declaring T HE SPARK OF G OD LIES WITHIN ALL OF US . T HE B ESHT .
Ethan glanced over Elijah’s shoulder at Terri’s file. The elder professor scribbled a note in a script legible only to him. He’d just finished reviewing the results of the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory that Terri had taken an hour earlier. Their protocol dictated that their subjects show no signs of a psychological condition that could be adversely affected by the experiment. Also, none could have a history of epilepsy. Although the monkey tests had gone well, they didn’t want to risk setting off an epileptic episode in someone preconditioned to it. His eyes fixed on the one cautionary note, written in red ink under the section titled “Other Medical History.”
“How are you feeling today, Terri?” Ethan asked.
Her forest green eyes locked onto his with a directness that, had it come from anyone else, would have made him uncomfortable.
“What you mean to ask is how is my cancer progressing?”
He nodded.
“Finished the final round of chemo five weeks ago. The treatments slowed the cancer but didn’t eradicate it from my lungs or spine.”
Her matter-of-fact delivery seemed incongruous with the information she revealed. He’d last seen Terri almost a year earlier, when they’d tested an earlier version of the Logos with lackluster results. Reviewing her medical history then, he’d felt a deep fear for the nun with the irreverent sense of humor. The cancer that had begun three years earlier in her breasts had metastasized throughout her body. He and Elijah had discussed whether her medical condition should disqualify her from this stage of the experiment, but she’d lobbied to be included. She’d been one of Elijah’s subjects five years ago in the experiments in which he’d first begun to develop his theory of a God part of the brain. Terri insisted that although her body may be suffering, her mind was clear.
“Ironic, isn’t it? Over thirty years ago I took a vow of chastity when I entered the order. I never needed my breasts for their original biological function, to nurse a child”—she waved her free hand across her flat chest, where both breasts had been surgically removed—“yet they will be the cause of my death.”
“I’m so sorry, Terri.”
What did one say to comfort the dying? He tried to push away the thought that this gentle woman had limited time left.
With his left cheek pressed against the cool, hard concrete, he could only make out the movements of the men with his right eye. Their actions were coordinated, more practiced and efficient than the brutal handling he’d received from his fellow Arabs. Their uniforms were devoid of markings, and they communicated with each other using nods and hand gestures rather than speech. After the man finished with the leg irons, he approached Mousa’s head. Mousa saw that he was carrying a black sack in his hand, about the size of an extra-large bag of rice. The man kneeling on his back shifted his weight and then lifted Mousa’s upper torso off the ground.
Just before they pulled the bag over his head, he noticed a movement high up on the wall. The beetle had reached the edge of the window. He watched as it crested the edge of the sill and disappeared through the iron bars into the light of freedom.
Then his world went dark.
CHAPTER 13
SSS, YALE UNIVERSITY
----
“S o then, I’m not crazy, am I?”
A woman in her mid-fifties, wearing simple black cotton pants and a black turtleneck, reclined in the green leather chair underneath the Logos. Her head was shaved, the stubble on top a silver gray. Her robes hung on the brass coat stand by the door.
“If only we were all as sane as you, Sister Terri,” Elijah said from his stool beside the Logos. He wore a white lab coat over a black T-shirt with red lettering declaring T HE SPARK OF G OD LIES WITHIN ALL OF US . T HE B ESHT .
Ethan glanced over Elijah’s shoulder at Terri’s file. The elder professor scribbled a note in a script legible only to him. He’d just finished reviewing the results of the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory that Terri had taken an hour earlier. Their protocol dictated that their subjects show no signs of a psychological condition that could be adversely affected by the experiment. Also, none could have a history of epilepsy. Although the monkey tests had gone well, they didn’t want to risk setting off an epileptic episode in someone preconditioned to it. His eyes fixed on the one cautionary note, written in red ink under the section titled “Other Medical History.”
“How are you feeling today, Terri?” Ethan asked.
Her forest green eyes locked onto his with a directness that, had it come from anyone else, would have made him uncomfortable.
“What you mean to ask is how is my cancer progressing?”
He nodded.
“Finished the final round of chemo five weeks ago. The treatments slowed the cancer but didn’t eradicate it from my lungs or spine.”
Her matter-of-fact delivery seemed incongruous with the information she revealed. He’d last seen Terri almost a year earlier, when they’d tested an earlier version of the Logos with lackluster results. Reviewing her medical history then, he’d felt a deep fear for the nun with the irreverent sense of humor. The cancer that had begun three years earlier in her breasts had metastasized throughout her body. He and Elijah had discussed whether her medical condition should disqualify her from this stage of the experiment, but she’d lobbied to be included. She’d been one of Elijah’s subjects five years ago in the experiments in which he’d first begun to develop his theory of a God part of the brain. Terri insisted that although her body may be suffering, her mind was clear.
“Ironic, isn’t it? Over thirty years ago I took a vow of chastity when I entered the order. I never needed my breasts for their original biological function, to nurse a child”—she waved her free hand across her flat chest, where both breasts had been surgically removed—“yet they will be the cause of my death.”
“I’m so sorry, Terri.”
What did one say to comfort the dying? He tried to push away the thought that this gentle woman had limited time left.
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