CHAPTER 3
Autism Research Center (ARC)
Jakarta, Indonesia
Playroom four buzzed with activity. The scene was typical: toys strewn everywhere with about a dozen children scattered throughout the room, each playing alone, focused intensely. In the corner, an eight-year-old child named Adi rocked back and forth as he built a puzzle with ease. When he placed the last block, he looked up at Ben, a proud smile on his face.
Kate couldn’t believe it.
The boy had just assembled a puzzle her team used to identify savants — autistic individuals with special cognitive abilities. The puzzle required an IQ in the 140-180 range. Kate couldn’t do it, and only one child in the study could — Satya.
Kate watched as the child quickly built the puzzle, tore it down, and built it again. Then Adi stood up and took a seat on a bench beside Surya, a seven-year-old in the study. The smaller boy got up and completed the puzzle with just as much ease.
Ben turned to Kate. “Can you believe it? You think they’re doing it from memory? From watching Satya?”
“No. Or maybe. I doubt it,” Kate said. Her mind raced. She needed time to think. She had to be sure.
“This is what you’ve been working on, isn’t it?” Ben said.
“Yes,” Kate said absently. It was impossible. It shouldn’t have worked so quickly. Yesterday, these children were classic cases of autism — if there was such a thing. Increasingly, researchers and physicians had begun recognizing autism as a spectrum of disorders with a wide range of symptoms. At the core of autism was a dysfunction in communication and social interaction. Most affected children avoided eye contact and socializing, others wouldn’t respond to their names, and in severe cases, children couldn’t stand any contact. Yesterday neither Adi or Surya could have completed the puzzle, made eye contact, or much less taken turns.
She had to tell Martin. He would make sure that their funding wasn’t cut off.
“What do you want to do?” Ben said. The excitement was clear in his voice.
“Take them to observation two. I need to make a call.” The disbelief, exhaustion, and joy fought a battle in Kate’s mind. “And, uh, we should administer a diagnostic. ADI-R. No, ADOS 2, it will take less time. And let’s film it.” Kate smiled and gripped Ben’s shoulder. She wanted to say something profound, something that would mark the moment, words like she imagined brilliant and now famous scientists say at the breakthrough moment, but no words came, just a weary smile. Ben nodded and then took the children by the hands. Kate opened the door, and the four of them walked out into the corridor where two people were waiting. Not people. Monsters, dressed head-to-toe in black military gear: a helmet that covered a cloth mask, dark ski-like goggles, body armor, and black rubber gloves.
Kate and Ben stopped, glanced at each other in disbelief, and corralled the children behind them. Kate cleared her throat and said, “This is a research lab, we don’t have any cash here, but take the equipment, take whatever you want. We won’t—”
“Shut up.” The man’s voice was rough, like someone who had spent a lifetime smoking and drinking. He turned to his smaller black-clad accomplice, who was clearly a woman, and said, “Take them.”
The woman took a step toward the children. Without thinking, Kate moved into her path. “Don’t, take anything, take me instead—”
The man took out a handgun and pointed it at her. “Don’t, Dr. Warner. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will.”
He knew her name.
Out of the corner of her eye, Kate saw Ben move closer, making for the gap between her and the monster with the gun.
Adi tried to run, but the woman grabbed him by his shirt.
Ben moved beside Kate, then in front of her, and they both rushed the man with the gun. They tackled him as the gun went off. Kate saw Ben roll off the black-clad man. Blood was everywhere.
She tried to get up, but the man had her. He was too strong. He pinned her to the ground, and she heard a loud crack—