Agent M: Project Mabus (The Agent M Series Book 1) Read online

  “Yes sir,” was all Donald could mutter given the circumstance with a resounding hum of defeat. The Secretary of Defense hung up without so much as a word of encouragement. Donald responded by placing the handset back to its original position.

  As if the thought of failure wasn’t already looming in his mind, Donald was busy trying to entertain the thought of what has gone right instead of what could go wrong. This project is just like a child to Donald Viseman, literally and figuratively. Funding had been approved nearly days after its proposal. The Cold War with the Soviet Union showed no signs of slowing down. To deter the war from escalating to a nuclear level, the United Soldier Initiative, or U.S.I. as it is referred to by every party involved was enacted. This was created to suit some personal military tastes.

  Many bureaucrats believed that wars were won by men, not weapons. Nuclear technology, while utterly effective, was easily emulated and therefore created a great threat in this arms race known as the Cold War. Instead of battling with missiles that threatened their country’s landscape, the definitive goal of the U.S.I. was to create the ultimate soldier. Many drafts were proposed but ultimately it was Donald’s initial idea that had teleported him from the happy university professor from four years ago into the present mess of a man who hardly knew if this project would succeed let alone of its moral repercussions to society.

  From a scientific standpoint, the most important aspect of the project was selecting a healthy egg. After testing thousands of potential candidates, a perfect sample was chosen from a bloodline that was free from any personal or family history of diseases or abnormal medical conditions. The donor remained nameless but as far as anyone else was concerned, they were more than happy to be working with such a qualified specimen.

  The sperm, on the other hand, required more scientific research and testing then anything. A solid year was spent analyzing and carrying out theories that would make this sperm the most viable candidate for enhancement. Toying with the twenty-three chromosomes was no easy task. Donald slaved for months trying to implement and manipulate the genetic structure of some of the most intelligent people on the planet as well as the most athletic. What he created was not merely a combination of the best and brightest mankind has ever created. It exceeded even the wildest of imaginations. The results were worth more than any weapon, satellite, or supercomputer under the government’s control. It was the blueprints for the perfect human being.

  To say that this idea was brilliant would be as easy as calling it blasphemous. After solid testing, Donald learned that the altered sperm would be immune to any type of disease known to man. In fact, the evolutionary principal built into the chromosomes would allow the body to resist any new forms of illness that should happen to manifest.

  Most importantly, Donald learned through vigorous testing in the second trimester that once fully developed, these soldiers could regenerate every cell in their bodies, including brain cells; a feat at which no human thought possible. Of course, the specimen’s physical abilities will be nearly beyond limitation. Regenerating injuries would happen over days instead of weeks. Their bodies would be able to withstand any type of extreme weather conditions, from the searing heat of the Sahara to the frozen tundra covering their enemy's homeland. Bones will have the tensile strength of solid steel and their physical strength and agility easily dwarfs any Olympic athlete in the world today. Rounding out their many physical gifts, Donald made sure to infuse the sperm with D.N.A. from some of the greatest and most intelligent minds in existence. A soldier needed a good intellect just as much as they needed a strong body. With a solid foundation in place, curing cancer and extending the average human lifespan will be easier than swallowing a pill.

  “Excuse me, sir,” Donald’s assistant said knocking him out of his trance. “What is that?” She asked.

  Without even thinking, Donald was holding all of the documents to his first proposed project which were the building blocks of this one. He created a drug that would molecularly enhance the physical abilities of a human for a short period of time. This drug, when injected into the bloodstream, would infuse the body with billions of living and synthetic nutrients hand coded by Donald, altering their D.N.A., temporarily allowing them to move faster, give them a tremendous boost in physical strength and stamina, and remove any sort of negative emotion like fear or anxiety within a single dosage.

  He called it Agent M. A title affixed with a warning no one would bother heading.

  “Just an old experiment that didn’t live up to expectations.”

  Donald didn’t have to look up at his assistant to know she wore a confused expression on her face. Agent M had failed. Miserably some might say. While the effects in the initial trials were positive, further testing proved that the human body would be unable to survive a single dosage. The body would break down, skin would melt off of the bone and that would be after the heart exploded from continuous strain. More or less, the drug was a glorified lethal injection. One that would have a hard time finding a home in today's political climate.

  Despite its disappointment, Agent M gave a major contribution before its death. The chemical formula used in that drug was too unstable for use in a developed body. However, this was not the case for an undeveloped body. Infusing the sperm with this substance, after masterfully splicing the genetic code, Donald instantly created the ultimate set of chromosomes ever conceived. Those same cells were used to fertilize and impregnate the very patient screaming wickedly before them.

  Looking deeply at the packet, his assistant had one last question for him. “What does the M stand for sir?”

  This time, Donald offered his assistant a disappointed yet somewhat cheerful look. He had hoped never to answer this question but thought of the most ambiguous answer to give her.

  Donald let out a deep sigh and said, “This was the most subtle disclaimer I could think of.”

  Puzzled, his assistant attempted to inquire about his reply but after a brief moment of pondering, decided that it would be best just to drop it all together. Donald didn’t look very happy discussing it and with the added pressure of the current project it was best not to continue to push any more stress upon the poor soul.

  “Is that all Ms. Wells?”

  “Yes sir,” she replied, “Thank you sir.”

  Ms. Wells. Nicole Wells he pondered. Despite the three years they’ve spent working on this project together, he hardly ever used her name. Donald felt dissatisfied with himself for not being more of a gentleman. They rarely had time to exchange pleasantries or even talk about their personal lives. She is, for the lack of a better word, ordinary, from her figure to a slightly attractive face. The only unique feature she had was the reddish-orange locks of hair tied neatly into a typical and uninteresting ponytail.

  Thinking back to it, Donald hardly knew anything about Nicole other than the fact that she was directly appointed by the Secretary of Defense. That wasn’t a bad thing necessarily. She was a brilliant assistant and knew her way around all of the devices while leaving the heavy science to the professionals. After all, this is a very important project with hundreds of millions of dollars on line. Neither he nor the government could afford another failure.

  The rest of his team had backgrounds that were more fleshed out since Donald carefully selected each candidate. Unfortunately beyond business, he hardly spoke to any of them. They were so engrossed with their work and following his orders that social interaction became an afterthought. This is a government project in every aspect. Everyone followed orders and procedures as if their lives’ depended on it. A little to militaristic for Donald’s taste but such was the life in the defense sector.

  Donald rested his chin on his thumbs and gripped the bridge of his nose with both index fingers. The suspense was killing him. Too much stress enveloped this project; it hardly seemed worth it. He began to ponder why he even bothered in the first place. Donald knew he walked a dangerous line. His wife would be sorely disappointed if she ever found ou
t what he’s been working on. Mainly since his initial research turned out to be so selfish.

  “Sir! Sir!”

  A voice cried instantly snapping Donald out of his painful thoughts. He stood up and looked over at the woman who was now violently thrashing about. Her cries and screams were almost numb to Donald minutes ago yet now they were loud enough to wake the dead.

  “What’s going on?!” Donald lashed out as he approached the examination area. His eyes felt like they were swarming with a deadly plague and no amount of rubbing could quell the pain. Adrenaline rushed through every available vein. Donald's heart had reacted to what his mind didn’t yet comprehend.

  “We're impending birth sir!” the doctor stated just as Donald arrived beside him. “The child is crowning!”

  Instantaneously, Donald’s mouth went dry. The miracle of birth, a sight he had witnessed three times already, was beginning again. Though all of the tests and ultrasounds reported positive, worry ate away at him. His mind plagued with unthinkable questions moment after moment. Would the child survive after leaving the womb? Will there be any abnormalities? Can the mother endure the entire process?

  Donald swallowed hard and realized that he wasn’t asking himself all of these questions as a scientist, but rather, as a father.

  “The child is coming out!” Another doctor screamed. “One more push!”

  The woman let out a final horrific cry as the baby exited the womb. Immediately, she was surrounded by everyone gathering around the equipment. The moment they’ve been waiting over three years for had finally arrived.

  Continuous whines surfaced as the child slid past the final hurdle and into the waiting hands of the doctors. Donald desperately tried holding back the tears because even though he knew the gender beforehand, this proved his theory was indeed correct. It is possible to code the gender preference before inception. Finally witnessing the birth of a child that wasn’t a girl became a little overwhelming.

  As Donald enjoyed this victory, the doctors continued with proper post-birth procedures. They cut the umbilical cord and cleaned off the excess fluids from his tiny body. Witnessing this was sort of a routine now for Donald but still, he couldn’t help but smile.

  “All vital signs normal, no physical abnormalities detected,” one of the doctors stated. This swept Donald with a rush of relief as each and every one of his doubts was finally being cleared one by one.

  Donald couldn’t turn his eyes away from the newborn. He didn’t even notice the patient resting peacefully after the labor of a lifetime. Being a surrogate mother was more then what she bargained for but after this project was completed, Maria Solano was promised an early retirement at the tender age of twenty-one.

  As the initial tests finished, Donald took one long breath and felt a great weight lift from his shoulders. The baby boy had survived the birthing process which, up to this point, was a remarkable feat. Of course, this was only the beginning of the project entirely but Donald’s participation would be limited from here on out. Things were going to be a lot easier.

  “Excuse me sir,” one of the doctors said approaching Donald, both flaunting a satisfying grin. This clearly was a huge success for all of them. Emotions could not be contained.

  “Yes doctor,” Donald replied. He looked back and noticed the rest of his staff carrying the child towards him.

  “I understand this is a monumental moment for you sir but if you’d like,” stated the doctor as he took a brief step aside. Another doctor stepped forward with the child in his hands wrapped around a blanket and presented it to Donald. “Would you like to hold the child?”

  Suddenly it became hard to breath after hearing that. This child represented years of hard work, frustration, torment, blood, sweat, and many sleepless nights Donald suffered through during this entire fanatical process. All of his moral implications against this project faded away the moment he witnessed birth. Donald wasn’t about to hold some military specimen or laboratory project. This was his child. His baby. His son.

  “Yes,” the geneticist answered hardly able to keep his voice professionally pitched, “I would.”

  He took the child into his arms as an overwhelming amount of pride swept through him. Donald's heart began to swell as the fruits of his labor rested majestically, like a little angel.

  A loud pop exploded ceasing all of Donald’s calm thoughts. Similar sounds rang out in quick succession, crippling his sense of hearing. Survival instincts took the driver’s seat. Donald quickly ran over to his desk and ducked behind it with the boy tucked safely in his arms. The sounds were deafening. Live gunfire was far more intense than he ever imagined. Panic swelled through. Bullets continued to fire and Donald could hardly make out anything else besides the faint screams of his colleagues as they collapsed one by one.

  Breaths escaped Donald’s lips quickly and erratically. His heart raced frantically, trying to come up with a way to keep his child safe. Blood slowly began trickling under the faint cracks of his desk. Watching the audible cues this nightmarish scene play out was more than this scientist could handle.

  Suddenly, as quickly as the shots came, they ceased. The ringing of his ears was thankfully subsiding. An eerie silence crept in. Donald felt a minor tug of relief but soon faded when he heard the faint tapping of footsteps approaching.

  Sheer horror stabbed against Donald's chest. He had no clue what had just occurred but quickly formulated a hypothesis and to a scientist that’s all it takes to develop a conclusion. Not wanting to suffer any longer his mind demanded that he stand up. Donald could barely envision the scene that was laid out before him but his eyes and mind were ready for hard verification. The results blew away every rational expectation.

  Donald rose slowly. His eyes bore witness to a true massacre. Every member of his medical staff suffered multiple gunshot wounds. Their bodies nearly drowning in pools of their combined blood as it drained out of their lifeless shells. Even Maria wasn’t spared. A single bullet passed through her skull, decorating the pillows and wall with crimson brain matter.

  Air choked into his throat as his continued to stare. With the child still in his arms Donald begged for his mind to come up with a reasonable conclusion as to why this was happening. It only took a mere peek to his left to find an answer.

  Nicole Wells held an empty pistol in one hand. The residual gunpowder was still smoking from its barrel. She placed the weapon down on the desk and picked up the phone. Her fingers tapped a familiar number and within seconds the recipient answered.

  “Mr. Weinberger,” she stated. It was as if answering to him was a programmed function. “The child is secure.”

  The overpowering sense of elation brought new life in this dank pit. He said a few more inaudible things before Nicole responded. Donald couldn’t catch much of what was said. Fear still had its firm grip on his rationale.

  “Thank you sir, clean up will commence momentarily.” The way she calmly stated those words rocketed a shiver up Donald’s spine; as if his fate were sealed.

  “As you wish. We will proceed as planned,” Nicole replied. Donald had lost track of their conversation while dealing with his own thoughts of survival. This information could be the key to it all.

  “That is correct. Project Mabus is a success.”

  Project Mabus? MABUS?

  The very name tagged onto his previous failed experiment had been stolen and reused only to torment him once again. That project was a failure and a disgrace. Donald left the current project nameless for that very reason. To hear its vile name being called once more was, for the lack of a better word, disturbing.

  Nicole placed the handset back on top of the phone and gave Donald a cold glance. Almost as if her mind already processed his destiny. Succumbed by the horror of that thought, Donald didn’t even notice her smile as she said, “The Secretary of Defense wishes to extend his most heartfelt congratulations.”

  A sense of security began creeping in. Donald couldn’t confirm it yet but evidence was sug
gesting that his life wasn’t in jeopardy at the moment. Something about the circumstances of the project almost made him feel like this was the intention all along.

  “I apologize for the abruptness of the situation but secrecy is a resource that can be easily overlooked during these times,” she began. Donald followed her words closely as this was probably the only explanation he would ever get a chance of hearing. “The Soviet’s intelligence has grown immensely as of late. There have been many leaks regarding some of our most important experiments and designs. This project was deemed Security Code W.O.A.T. Meaning, it is imperative that only those with high level clearance and responsibilities be involved.”

  That ate at Donald. Those words cut through his already damaged heart. Fear turned to rage. Being told that the murder of four innocent people was standard operating procedure did not sit well in his conscious. Donald still had trouble deciphering it all. Essentially, he was told that taking human lives was the only way to prevent security leaks. It reminded him of a famous Benjamin Franklin quote.

  Three can keep a secret, if two of them are dead.

  Even the logical words of an ancient intellect couldn’t quell Donald’s anger.

  “Who are you?” He asked with a slight scorn attached as it ended, emphasizing his growing distaste with his assistant’s attitude. Donald couldn't even tell if she was human anymore.

  “Who I am is irrelevant at the moment,” she replied, “All I can say is that I work for a section of the government you’ve likely never heard of nor will you ever. Our immediate goal was to see to it that your project be completed and as the evidence of that rests quietly in your arms,” she stated while nodding towards the child, “I am assured our goal has been met.”

  “Shut up!” He scolded. “What the hell is the matter with you? You just killed four innocent people. Have you no soul?” Donald didn’t even realize he was still holding the child. Even despite all of the gunfire and chaos that had just occurred, the boy slept quietly in Donald’s arms. Which made him question whether or not this child had a soul either.