Night's Favour (43 page)

When that happened, this would all be a distant memory, a forgotten bout of teething pain.
 
Birkita was worth any price and this would be transitory.
 
Change and growth were always hard; her success secret was that she was not afraid to pay the full cost of change.
 
When the boat man came, she paid in full, and enjoyed the trip.
 
It’s what made her better than most people, wealthier, and ultimately, more successful.
 
Biomne was in the Fortune 500, a stock darling.

So why wasn’t she smiling?

Elsie tapped the small square of paper in front of her with her glasses.
 
It was bright pink, the Post-it staring up at her.
 
A single number — no name — was written in precise numerals on it.
 
Sam’s handwriting, of course.
 
Like the rest of his work, it was neat, meticulous, even the small details important.
 
It didn’t need a name — she knew who she was going to be calling.

“Would you like me to make the call?”
 
Sam broke the silence.
 
Despite his worth, he was still a man, and fell into the trap of needing to fill silence with action.
 
Sometimes, silence was action.

“No.”
 
Elsie put her glasses on.
 
“I’m not looking forward to this.”

“I’m…
 
I’m happy to do it.”

“I wouldn’t think of asking you to.
 
It’s my daughter.”

“We’ve shared the risk this far.”

“Even so.”
 
Elsie pushed a button on the phone, the tone carrying over the sound of the clock — thank God.
 
“This is his number?”
 
She didn’t really need to ask; if she was being honest, she was stalling.

“Yes.”
 
Sam sat still in his chair.
 
A lesser man would have offered to leave.

Elsie tapped out the numbers written on the paper in front of her, fingers only touching the buttons on the phone.
 
A sign of stress was to use force, to punch buttons or rush through the numbers.
 
The ceremony of dialling was one she used to still her thoughts before these sorts of difficult calls.
 
Hitting the phone didn’t solve anything, except make other people in the room with you concerned that you weren’t capable of doing the job.

Not that Sam would think that.
 
Even still.
 
She turned the phone onto speaker.

The call connected on the second ring.
 
“Caller ID blocked.
 
Nice.”
 
The man’s voice sounded confident.
 
Strange.
 
She thought he’d be less at ease.

“Mr. Everard?”

“What do you think?
 
You dialled the number.
 
Did you want a pizza?”

“How droll.”
 
A smile tugged at the corner of Elsie’s mouth.
 
In other circumstances, a man this punchy would be useful on her staff.
 
This wasn’t other circumstances.
 
“Pizza is not on the menu, however.”

“Great.
 
Who is this?”

“Names aren’t important.”

“Look lady — you’re right.
 
I’m not really interested in who you are.
 
But I’m super interested in
what
you are.”
 
She heard the emphasis in his voice.

“Perhaps I’m being rude.
 
You may call me Elsie.”
 
Everard’s manner was making her punchy herself, her usual caution falling by the wayside.
 
Sam’s breath hissed across the table.
 
He was right to be concerned, but it wasn’t his risk.

“Hi.
 
Look.
 
Elsie.
 
It’s been great talking, but I’m expecting a super important call.
 
Unless you’re that call, I’m going to need to hang up.
 
No offence.”

“None taken.”
 
Elsie paused.
 
“Mr. Everard, I have a young lady named Adalia in my care.”

There was a pause, no sound coming down the line for a moment.
 
“In your care?
 
Can I speak to her?”

“No.”
 
Elsie pushed the scrap of paper around the desk in front of her.
 
“I don’t think that would be appropriate.
 
But I think she misses her mother.
 
We have her at one of my… facilities.
 
I’d like to return her to Ms. Kendrick as soon as possible.
 
If you’d be willing.”

“Sure.
 
Drop her around.
 
We’ll be here all day.”

“Ah.
 
It’s not quite that straightforward, I’m afraid.”

“I figured.”
 
Everard paused again.
 
“So do we have to pick her up, or what?”

Damn the man’s pluck.
 
How was she losing control of this conversation?
 
“I think it would be best if you came to collect her, yes.
 
But we’ll need something from you.”

“Ok.
 
I’m listening.”

“Listening?
 
I hope that you’re going to do more than listen.”

“Sure.
 
You’ve got some kid, you want something.
 
We’ll see where this goes.”

“It’s not just ‘some kid,’ Mr. Everard.
 
Don’t be coy.”
 
Elsie smiled at the phone.
 
The man was overplaying his hand.
 
“This is Ms. Kendrick’s daughter.
 
Her only daughter.
 
As a mother, I understand what that means.”

There was some kind of noise on the other end of the line, something muffled, and then a door closing.
 
“Sorry about that.
 
What was that?”

“I said, as a mother, I understand your children are the most important thing in the world.”

“I don’t think you get it.
 
She’s not my kid.
 
Why do I care?”

Elsie leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling.
 
“Mr. Everard, we know a great deal about you.
 
I’m not a hundred percent sure why you might care, but I do know that you ran through eight city blocks after her, chasing men with guns, who were shooting at you.
 
That shows an… unusual level of commitment.”

Another pause, but shorter this time.
 
“Fair enough.
 
Let’s agree I have an interest in Adalia.”

“I’m glad we agree on something.
 
Perhaps we can work towards more mutual agreements.”

“Keep talking.”

“Mr. Everard, do you understand the gift you can give the world?”
 
It was always good to deliver a solid teaser, to hint that there could be a greater win than just personal gain at stake.
 
There wasn’t, of course.
 
At least, not for Valentine Everard.
 
His fate was both certain and unfortunate.

“My good looks?”

“I’m thinking something longer term.”

“You’re referring to my recent feats of manly valour.”

“Something like that.
 
Mr. Everard — may I call you Valentine?”

“You can call me whatever you like.
 
Valentine’s not the worst thing people have called me.”

“Quite.
 
Valentine, you were exposed to a very rare, very special virus.”

One heart beat.
 
Two heart beats.
 
Three.
 
“A virus?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not sure I follow.
 
I’m just an IT guy.”

“You graduated with a PhD in computer science from MIT.”

“Like I said, I’m just an IT guy.
 
I don’t understand what’s good about a virus.
 
They’re never good.”

Elsie chewed that over.
 
Never good
.
 
There was truth, and then there was truth.
 
“I acquired a… sample from overseas.
 
It was imported here recently, but the carrier fell outside my control.”

“He escaped.”

“Ah.
 
You’ve met Volk?”

“I think so.
 
We didn’t talk much.”

The hospital.
 
Of course.
 
“We believe that in Volk’s escape attempt, he managed to infect you.
 
There was a significant impact at a local bar, where you might have been drinking.”

One beat.
 
Two.
 
“The Elephant Blues?”

“The Elephant Blues.”
 
Elsie thought for a moment.
 
“My advisor has suggested that in Volk’s… state, that he might have infected you.”

“I don’t recall.”

“Volk is a serial killer, Valentine.”

One beat.
 
Two.
 
Three.
 
Four.
 
Five.
 
“Mr. Everard?”
 
She normally let a silence linger, but she thought the line had gone dead.

“I’m here.”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“I heard you.
 
I’m not sure I understand.
 
How did you get…
 
No, that’s the wrong question.
 
How the hell did you let a serial killer escape?
 
That’s a… That’s cost a…
 
People are dead.”

Excellent.
 
The man was finally flustered.
 
“Volk was being detained in another country, and we extradited him.
 
He has exceptional value, value that was not well understood by his jailers.”

“Because he has the virus.”

“Yes.
 
He has the virus.
 
And now you have the virus.”

“How do you know?”

“Valentine, I have received a video showing you being shot with an assault rifle.”
 
Elsie paused.
 
How should she put this?
 
“Our subcontractors try to keep detailed records of their activities.”

“I hope you guys don’t get audited by the IRS.”

“I don’t think the IRS is of great concern at this moment.”
 
The smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
 
She wished she didn’t like Everard.
 
It made a hard thing harder, in the end.
 
“Do you know of many people being shot by an assault rifle, and talking on the phone the next day?”

“Can I be honest with you, Elsie?”

“I’d prefer it if we could be completely honest.”

“I’ve been around a bit, known a bunch of people.
 
Drank a lot of booze.
 
A lot, and I’m not just telling you that like it’s some alcohol hero story.
 
I meet people drinking, crazy people, clever people, even met an actuary once.
 
That guy — well, that guy was more depressed than me.
 
But never once have I known anyone who’s been shot.
 
Not with a BB gun, not with an assault rifle.”

“Except you.”

“I don’t recall.”

Was the man deliberately trying to rile her?
 
“I said I preferred it if we could be honest.”

“We are being honest.
 
I don’t recall.
 
Elsie, I don’t know what you think this virus can do.
 
I don’t know what you want it for.
 
But I don’t think it’s what you think it is.”

“My situation is bleak, I’m afraid.
 
Without the virus — well, I’ve exhausted my options.”
 
Time to get this back on track.
 
“I need the virus, Valentine.”

“What do you think it does?”

“I think it transforms humans.
 
Makes us stronger, smarter.
 
Healthier.”

“Ah.”

“Ah?”
 
Elsie stared down at the phone.

“Ah.
 
You’re sick.”

“I’m not sick.”
 
Elsie tapped the square of paper.
 
“But I need the virus nonetheless.
 
The virus can be used to cure disease.
 
Extend the human lifespan.
 
Make us healthy, strong, slim, the dream of humanity.”

“You want to market it as a weight loss drug?”

“That’s one possibility.
 
It’s not without it’s impact, of course.”
 
Elsie looked at Sam.
 
“But I have a team of capable people who can bring this thing under control.
 
In a few short years, strains of the virus will be out in the market in pill form.
 
That is your value, Mr. Everard.
 
You get to turn your… condition into an asset.
 
You’ll cure diabetes and cancer overnight.”

“You want the money.”

Let him think that.
 
It was as good a story as any.
 
“I want the virus, Valentine.
 
And for that, I need you.”

“The truth at last.
 
So you’ve already got my biopsy, I’m guessing.”

“Yes.
 
Unfortunately, that was unsuccessful.”

One beat.
 
Why was he pausing here?
 
Two.
 
It was unexpected.
 
Three.
 
“Unsuccessful?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know a little girl named Amy?”

“No.
 
Valentine, I really must insist that we bring you in.
 
We haven’t been able to identify the cofactor.
 
There’s something special about you, something different that —”