Monkey Games
By Vince Coyner
Chapter 5. The best laid plans
Thirty years after the team was assembled it was preparing for its greatest test, which involved the ultimate, a cloned human transplant, between Estaban and Michael. Two weeks before the transplant was to occur, a strange set of accidents on opposite sides of the earth conspired to throw a wrench in the works for Alexander’s perfectly choreographed plan. Estaban was hiking with his wife on a trail at the foothills of Andes when a stone upon which he was standing gave way. He tumbled almost straight down the 78-degree incline to the rocky bottom 125 feet below. He was killed instantly. It took two days for the rescuers to recover his body. The experiment would have to be scrapped, at least as it related to Estaban and Michael. There was another cloned duo available, but the necessary pre-transplant physicals and measurements had not been done for them and therefore it would take an additional two months of preparation. A new date was set for exactly two months later.
That date too would prove worthless, but for entirely different reasons. Just days after Estaban’s untimely demise another accident occurred on the streets of Paris. Alex was in the French President’s box for the Formula One Tour de Paris. He had stepped into the next box to say hello to a young lady when he heard a screaming noise. As he turned, there was a flash of black. The pride of all Spain, René “Le Pistol” Pistolero had lost control of his car coming around the fourth turn. The car went flying end over end breaking apart as it did. One of the pieces of flying debris was the left rear axle, which went hurdling at 200 miles per hour into the luncheon box. Alex turned in time to see the still attached tire heading his way. He attempted to hit the ground. Although the tire missed his head, the universal joint at the end of the axle clipped his spinal cord at the bottom of his back as he was diving towards the floor. Six people, including the “Le Pistol” died in that accident, three of whom were in the box with Alex. Alexander was the only one in the box to survive, and frankly only time would tell if that would hold.
He was immediately taken to the Paris’ premiere, if troubled, health care facility, the Pompidou Hospital. It took doctors thirty six hours to stabilize his bloodflow and to arrest the leakage of spinal fluid that threatened to paralyze him from the neck down rather than from the waist down which was the best they could hope for. Two days later Albert, Alex’s assistant and confidante had him transferred to the Alexander Resources South Centre research facility, part of the company’s headquarters in Fontainebleau. While not a traditional hospital in the typical sense of the word, the facility had the best medical equipment and personnel money could buy. Spinal cord research and neurological studies were the center’s specialties and there was no doubt that that was where Alex was going to get the best evaluation possible.
This development literally rocketed forward the timetable for the project Alex had spent the last 30 years funding. Fate had stepped in and there was simply no more time to test. Albert immediately contacted the “Group of Eight” and had five of the eight on private planes headed for La Playa Arena within hours. Two were already on the island, one was just finishing up his month on at the facility and the other was just starting. The last member was David Smith, who happened to be visiting friends in London at the time of the accident. Upon hearing the news he immediately flew to Paris and was with Albert when Alex was transferred to South Centre. He would accompany Albert and Alex to La Playa Arena in a couple of days.
Just as Alex’s private ambulance was arriving at the Pompidou Centre, Albert called Laura who he knew had just returned from an inspection of one of the company’s facilities in the Ivory Coast and likely hadn’t heard about the accident. “Laura, it’s Albert” he said into the phone as he was walking out the front door of the hospital trying to be heard over the din in the lobby. “Listen, I know you are on your way to the mountains for a couple of days, but Alexander has been hurt and I need you to postpone the trip and do something for me.” “Sure, no problem. I know, I just landed about two hours ago. I just heard about the accident last night. How is he?” She asked. “Better. Stable” he said “We’re leaving the Pompidou Centre right now. We’re moving him to the South Centre for a couple of days. David Smith is here and he thinks that it may take a little while before we know the full extent of that damage, but that Alex should regain most of his movement above the waist. The Axle severed his spine. It was as clean a break as one could hope for in such a situation. It could easily have been fatal.” “Good... what do you need from me?”
“Alexander has a son who lives on Aislado, an island a couple of hundred miles from our facility on La Playa Arena. I need you to bring him to meet Alex”. “Uh...OK” Laura said, surprised that she had never heard that Alexander had a son. “Do you want me to bring him here?” “No, he can’t come here yet.” Responded Albert. “He has a disorder that limits his contact with people and where he can travel. It’s an immune system problem...” Albert started to explain the condition but then decided he didn’t have time. “Listen, Alex and I will be leaving for La Playa Arena on Saturday. We will arrive on Sunday.” “I want you to take Jonathan there so they can be together. You’ll find a complete report on the plane.”
“No problem.” She said “I’ll leave first thing in the morning.” “No, I need you to leave tonight. Now if you can.” She looked down at her watch and just as she thought, it was Thursday. Not certain what 12 hours difference would make since Alex wasn’t going to arrive until Sunday anyway, She considered asking why she had to leave immediately but she let it drop, “Uh... OK” she said. “Great! Thanks” “No problem” Laura said as she was hanging up the phone. “Oh, two more things” she thought she heard Albert say. She lifted the phone back to her ear “Yes, what is it?” she asked. “Jonathan doesn’t know anything about Alex, so please don’t mention him. He wants it to be something of a surprise. It is a long story; I’ll explain later. The other thing is that Alex doesn’t want news of his trip to get out so don’t mention any of this to anyone, particularly the press.” “No problem” she said, not at all surprised that even on what might be his deathbed Alex was as secretive as always. “I’ll see you there,” she added before hanging up the phone. The idea of flying Alex halfway across the world in his condition struck her as rather odd, but if that’s what Albert and David wanted, so be it. Although that was one of the few Alexander Resources facilities she had never been to, she knew that La Playa Arena was one of the best facilities on the planet and despite the stress induced by the flight, Alex would get the best care in the world there.
When Albert called Laura had just returned home but she was getting ready to leave again. She had just spent a week inspecting the security situation of Alexander Resources’ Ivory Coast facility. It was a small facility but it was easily one of the firm’s most prodigious. Ivory Coast, once the heart of a rainforest that covered 320,000 square miles in Western Africa, is now home to the Tai National Forest, which is practically all that remains of that erstwhile grand expanse of nature. The Alexander Resources facility abuts the forest and has easy access to its disparate types of fauna and wide array of organisms from moss to monkeys. The inspection was a follow up to some changes that were made after it became clear that the facility required unusual security measures to deal with potential threats from passing poachers, guerrillas and refugees. While there was little threat of a significant attack because of a military facility not far away, there were occasional breaches to its integrity that needed to be stopped. Laura inspected the fences and monitoring system that had been built to her standards. She was now confident the facility could withstand all but the most brutal of attacks, with government troops nearby if relief was necessary.
Although the temperature during the trip did not get above 93 degrees, the humidity was stifling and Laura returned to her apartment almost salivating at the prospect of spending a few days at her favorite place in the world, the Swiss ski resort of Champéry. She had been finishing her up packing when Albert called. She loved the resort and had had this trip planed for almost a year. As she hung up the phone she picked up a stuffed oversized pillow that sat on her 17th century ottoman. She threw it into the bedroom where it slammed into the bright glass panes of the French doors leading to the balcony. The thump caused the pigeon sitting on the rail of the balcony to take flight. As she watched him take off over a nearby roof, Laura wished she could just fly away too. Unfortunately she couldn’t. She felt a flash of despondency at the notion that rather than relaxing in front of a fire after a day on the slopes she now had to fly halfway around the world to bring Alex’s mysterious son to meet a father he’s never met. The gloom lasted for only a split second and again she focused on the task at hand and the fact that Alex was laying in a hospital bed. It seemed pretty easy, and if nothing else it would give her an opportunity to inspect one of the few facilities she had not visited. As the Gulfstream IV-SP took off in the direction of the setting sun, she cheered somewhat with notion that it might not be so bad getting a bit of a tan before going to the Alps. At least she’d stand out against the snow.
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