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Monkeyhead

Mike Rader

    The foothills of the Himalayas guard many secrets. The ancient temple of Kra-k’n is one of them, a series of stone ramparts and structures clinging to the edge of a plateau. The monks of this temple conducted many medical experiments over the centuries, noting their successful results on great scrolls stored in the most sacred hall.
    When the Russians invaded neighboring Afghanistan, soldiers captured the temple. The monks were lined up and machine-gunned. That very same day, the soldiers discovered a hidden underground chamber. What they found in that grisly space was enough for the Kremlin to send a team of Russian scientists to the desolate location.
    Over the years, Directorate 7, so numbered in honor of President Putin’s birthdate, secretly extended the knowledge recorded on the temple scrolls. Ultimately, according to rumor, a mere handful of men achieved what hundreds of ancient monks had only dreamed about.
    One morning, their leader, General Orlovsky, arrived at the Kremlin. Orlovsky is derived from the Russian word Oryol, meaning eagle, the symbol of royalty and power in Tsarist days gone by. As head of all the military and secret services, his presence aroused no suspicion. He was ushered into the president’s company.
    Putin reclined in a chair in his private apartment. He listened for only a minute, then raised his hand irritably. “I’ve heard all this before, comrade.” His opaque gaze fell on the general seated opposite. “A chamber of monkeys suspended upside down, their heads drilled.”
    General Orlovsky nodded. “That is so, comrade President. Our scientists also found a trove of ancient manuscripts. It seemed the monks of Kra-k’n believed that drilling such holes relieved brain blood volume, by allowing the brain more space to grow, and more oxygen.”
    Putin’s impatience was clear. “Yes, Orlovsky. And we in turn conducted similar experiments on our Chechen friends, not that their brains expanded by any noticeable degree,” he commented drily. “So, get to the point. You have not come here to give me a history lesson.”
    “Comrade President, the monks also extracted a fluid from the brains of monkeys. After years of research and testing on Siberians, we have finally managed to reproduce a serum in military quantities. The serum is capable of destroying the brains of our enemies and converting them to our will.”
    Putin leaned forward. “Can we rely on this serum to destroy American land forces?”
    “The serum will destroy any army on earth.”
    Putin’s gaze narrowed. “You understand that in all the rules of war and under the Geneva Convention, chemical warfare is prohibited. However, there is no reference to a prohibition on monkey brain fluid.” He roared with laughter and slapped his thigh. “Our friends in the West could never have imagined such a weapon!”
    “Exactly, comrade President. This serum will put Russia in the most enviable position.”
    Putin’s voice was a harsh whisper. “How many people know of its existence?”
    “The four scientists who discovered the formula unfortunately died last week. As of this moment, comrade President, only you and I know of it. Give the order and I will order its mass production.”
    “I think not.” Putin reached into his desk drawer. “I would prefer to ensure your silence too.”
    But when his hand rose with the revolver, the general gripped his arm and plunged a hypodermic syringe into his flesh.
    The president dropped the gun. He stared in disbelief at the head of his military. “You will not get away with this,” he tried to say, as the serum raced through his arteries to his brain. He slumped back lifelessly.
    Orlovsky rose. Mother Russia was his to command. How amusing, he thought. Monkey brain fluid be damned! Those scientists had labored fruitlessly for years; they deserved to die for wasting billions of rubles! His syringe had been filled with potassium chloride, worth mere kopeks, a perfect way to terminate one’s opponents, as had been proven for generations in the Lubyanka Prison.
    He slipped the needle back into his pocket and went to inspect the body.
    A soft click spun him around.
    Vladimir Putin smiled in the doorway. “Well, well, Orlovsky, it seems my double has earned his pay at last.” He snapped at the white-coated man beside him. “Comrade, the monkey fluid, please...”

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