Chapter 18
Bennet Estate
Hamilton County, New York
Alexei was back to feeling annoyed and taken advantage of.
He alone was out in the barn toiling away while the others were up in the house playing cards or reading or just loafing around to pass the time.
Earlier even Alexei had been enjoying himself to an extent.
He and Dmitry had been down in the basement game room fully engrossed in a hard-fought Ping-Pong playoff by ultimately winning six games out of ten.
Conveniently enough, they were remarkably closely matched in terms of Ping-Pong ability, which made playing particularly entertaining, especially since both were equally competitive.
At that point in the match they had each won five games and were about to start the deciding game.
But Viktor had put an abrupt end to their Ping-Pong “world series” when he’d suddenly appeared and demanded that Alexei drop everything and immediately head out to the barn to check the theta prion level in the fermenter.
“But it’s only been twenty-four hours!” Alexei had complained. “There’s not a chance in heaven or hell that there would be adequate production after only twenty-four hours.”
“I don’t care,” Viktor had said. “I want to know how the batch is doing right now. So, get your butt out there and check it out or there’ll be hell to pay.”
For several seconds Alexei had had to forcibly restrain himself from throwing a fit. He’d even looked down at the Ping-Pong paddle he had in his hand and had to actively suppress himself from throwing it at Viktor.
But Alexei didn’t do anything except put down the paddle, roll his eyes for Dmitry’s benefit, and dutifully head out to the barn, where he’d remained for the last several hours.
What he’d been able to accomplish so far was get an aliquot out of the fermenter while maintaining the carbon dioxide, oxygen, pH, and temperature levels with precision.
He’d then subjected the sample to a run in the sonification chamber Dmitry had cleverly devised since they hadn’t been able to order one within an appropriate time frame.
This was to break apart the contained yeast cells.
Then he’d used the centrifuge they had been able to get in Albany to separate out the theta prion that the yeast had been dutifully fabricating since he knew its molecular weight.
He was now about ready to add the colorimetric analyzer, which would give a reasonable approximation of the theta prion concentration.
Before he began working, he’d donned an impermeable protective gown, a face shield, and latex surgical gloves.
The last thing he wanted to do was contaminate himself, knowing full well if he did, he’d soon suffer cognitive decline leading to dementia.
He also knew full well the unbelievable stability of prions in general, which were resistant to all the things that viruses, bacteria, and fungi were sensitive to, including all the usual antiseptics and sterilization techniques.
Prions were almost indestructible, which was one of the primary reasons they were the perfect bioweapon.
Positioning himself under adequate light with the centrifuge vial in one hand and the pipetted amount of dye in the other, plus a colorimetric chart front and center on the improvised bench top, he was just about to mix the two when the barn door slammed open, shattering the sustained silence and causing him to literally jump.
Almost simultaneous with the sudden racket, Dmitry loudly yelled Alexei’s name.
Literally counting to ten silently with Dmitry again insistently calling out his name, he ignored his co-worker while he carefully emptied the pipette back into the dye container.
“Alexei, I’m talking to you!” Dmitry snapped, coming up behind him, obviously irritated he was being ignored.
After putting the cap on the dye container and slipping the vial back into the centrifuge, Alexei finally turned to the insistent Dmitry. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m busy!” he snapped back. “I think that’s obvious.”
“Whatever,” Dmitry said with a wave of dismissal. “Viktor wants you back at the house on the double.”
“Wait a second,” Alexei said, rolling his eyes. “He insisted on immediately knowing the current prion concentration in the fermenter a few hours ago. I’m in the middle of finding it out.”
“It has to wait,” Dmitry said. “Viktor wants you up at the house now! He made that perfectly clear, believe me. JD surprised us by showing up unexpectedly, pounding on the door, and making demands. Since you are the one who has dealt with him the most from day one, Viktor wants you to come handle him.”
“What the hell is JD here for?” Alexei questioned.
The news definitely took him aback. He immediately but carefully snapped off his gloves, making certain they stayed inside out.
He started to undo his gown, thinking that JD showing up was certainly out of the ordinary and not welcome, especially so close to their departure.
“Something about his taking on the reins of the Diehard Patriots,” Dmitry said. “But Viktor managed to distract him by insisting he have a beer first.”
“All right, let’s go,” Alexei said after he’d responsibly put aside the soiled gloves and gown, which they buried in a deep pit they’d created behind the barn.
He planned on dealing later with the plastic face shield using concentrated sodium hydroxide, which was one of the very few compounds capable of denaturing prion protein.
As they hurried up the path to the house, Alexei prodded Dmitry further about what JD had said. What he learned was that JD wanted to set up a definite schedule for upcoming maneuvers and lectures, and he wanted to talk about money.
“Jesus Christ!” Alexei complained. “What’s come over him? JD’s always been so reliably lackadaisical. If we’re forced into doing any more of the maneuver nonsense, it’s obviously all going to fall to you and me.”
“Don’t I know it!” Dmitry answered.
Entering the house, Alexei and Dmitry found JD sitting at the expansive kitchen island nursing a longneck Bud Light with both Viktor and Nikolai.
Viktor had JD carrying on about his parents’ hardware store, which had been started by JD’s maternal grandfather.
It was where he worked when he worked. The association had been definitely beneficial to the Russians, as Dmitry had used JD innumerable times to order non-scientific tools when putting together their makeshift microbiology lab, including the fermenter itself.
“Hey, JD! What’s up?” Alexei voiced, making a point of using the syntax he’d learned from dealing with him and Ethan.
He went into the refrigerator and grabbed two Bud Lights, one for himself and one for Dmitry.
After handing off Dmitry’s, he took a barstool across from where JD was sitting.
From Dmitry’s appearance alone, Alexei sensed a distinct difference in the man’s mindset.
Gone was the normal impression that he’d just taken a hit of weed, as he was obviously surprisingly alert. Even his posture was more erect.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking over the last couple of hours,” JD was saying as Alexei and Dmitry popped the tops off their beers and made themselves comfortable.
“What about?” Alexei questioned, taking a slug of his beer. He glanced briefly at Viktor, who nodded imperceptibly, giving him the authority to take over the conversation.
“About Diehard Patriots,” JD said. “I met up with Janet Huber. Actually, she made a point of finding me. Did you ever meet Janet?”
“I don’t believe I did,” Alexei responded.
“She was Ethan’s girlfriend,” JD said. “They were living together out near where I live at the garage. She wanted to provide me the papers and whatnot Ethan kept about the Diehard Patriots. She said she’d given all the other stuff to his mother and father, like his clothes and a couple of guns.
Looking through everything, I realized somebody’s got to take over where he left off. You know what I’m saying?”
“Of course,” Alexei said. He glanced at the others, particularly Viktor, but Viktor’s indifferent expression didn’t change. “Will you be our major contact from now on?”
“I guess you could say that,” JD said with a nod. “I mean, I talked with Nate Morrison, the other founder, but he said he’d gotten a new job and didn’t have the time or whatever. So, I guess I’m it.”
“Congratulations,” Alexei said, trying to sound enthused.
“Luckily my name was already on the bank account,” JD said, “so that’s not going to be a problem. But funds are getting low, and I don’t think we can hit up the members with more dues, especially since we’ve been requiring them to buy their own ammo for our maneuvers.”
“If they are buying their own ammunition, why do you need more funds?” Alexei asked, trying to be understanding.
“The biggest problem is this property, the Bennet Estate,” JD said. “Paying the rent, which is due, is going to break the bank. I didn’t even know we Diehard Patriots were paying for it. Ethan kept secrets from Nate and me and the rest of the gang.”
“That’s not a problem,” Viktor said, suddenly speaking up in his deep, commanding voice.
“We’ll be happy to pay the rent, provided we pay you in cash and not the landlord.
We’d even be more than happy to pay a bit extra for your help in handling it, which we appreciate.
We’d much prefer not having to deal directly with the managing company. ”
“Okay, terrific! That will be great,” JD said with a broad smile of relief.
“Problem solved!” He then lifted his Bud Light bottle in a toast before taking a healthy swig.
After he swallowed, he looked at the label and asked: “How come we’re drinking Bud Light?
What’s up with your homemade brew? I was hoping to give it a try, knowing what I know about what that fermenter cost.”