Lethal Profit

by Alex Blackmore

  ‘Gentlemen, thank you for coming.’

  When he spoke it was with the cut-glass confidence of the highest echelons of British education. There were nods from around the table and John Mansfield nervously downed the remainder of his creamy coffee from the delicate bone-china Worcester cup.

  ‘Today is something of a momentous day for us,’ the CEO announced, his smooth tone and open gestures intended to set at ease those around the table who might be having any last minute doubts.

  ‘Thanks to the excellent groundwork of our board member,’ he gestured at Mansfield, who nodded at the assembled heads that immediately turned his way, ‘we have our approval.’

  There was a wave of recognition around the room.

  ‘As of this moment, the Medicines and Healthcare Products Regulatory Agency has certified us free and clear to go ahead with the manufacture and sale of PX 3.’ The CEO paused for several seconds to let the implications sink in and the financial rewards be calculated.

  ‘We have already begun building the algae pools in locations around the UK and the first set-ups are complete. In just a few days the plants themselves will follow from our storage facility in Africa.’

  ‘When will it be ready for sale?’

  ‘As you know, thanks to the genetically modified design of the algae, they bloom on contact with oxygen. The bloom will yield algae in triple quantities in around a fifth of the time it would normally take to grow. Once the ponds are established, we can trigger the bloom, harvest the plants and begin the manufacturing process.’

  ‘How long from harvest to delivery?’

  ‘Roughly two months.’

  There were nods around the table.

  ‘We are almost ready to sell the people of the UK their youth back. Your investment is about to pay off, gentlemen.’

  Mansfield could almost hear the collective exhalation of relief around the room. To many of these industry heavyweights, their connection with Bioavancement S.a.r.l. may have created a sense of unease, in spite of the fact that it was always a somewhat rocky road that pharmaceutical companies trod when it came to launching new supplements. The PX 3 was by no means the first supplement to claim to preserve, or engineer, youthfulness in those who took it, but because it was made from a genetically engineered plant, there was an extra hurdle of distrust to overcome. Nevertheless, they had invested heavily in its development, predominantly because, with the right marketing, it had enormous mass market appeal, and the potential to generate billions in profit.

  Few of those around this table had believed at the beginning that the company could ever obtain approval for the product without palms being greased somewhere along the line but somehow, although the CEO had never mentioned any inside connections, he had still managed to convince each one of them that their investment would yield results that were worth the risk to their businesses and their reputations. No doubt the enormous profits had been a fairly substantial carrot; and the fact that Bioavancement S.a.r.l. held all the patents on the ground-breaking genetically engineered plant was probably a pretty big stick. Mansfield had always had the impression that many of those present felt rather swept away by the force of the CEO’s charm and, afterwards, had perhaps regretted both the capital outlay and the association with the company. Now, however, they were about to receive the ultimate reward for the investor in risky ventures: an enormously high return.

  Mansfield watched as the CEO closed the meeting and then made his way around the room, oiling the wheels of his investments, congratulating, flattering and exciting all those in the room. He really was quite a piece of work. When he came to Mansfield, his smile was bright.

  ‘Minister. Congratulations. I really can’t tell you how happy I am that you have been of such great assistance.’

  ‘As am I.’

  ‘Is anyone aware of your involvement with us?’

  ‘No, ’ the MP replied confidently. ‘And I would like to keep it that way.’

  He laughed nervously and the CEO smiled.

  ‘Of course,’ he said, locking Mansfield’s hands in his own cold grip. ‘Well, I hope we make it worth your while at the very least.’ He released Mansfield’s hand, bade him goodbye and walked away.

  Eva was jolted out of her sleep by the sound of a new email arriving on her laptop. She sat up stiffly and checked the time on the small travel clock by her head. It was 9pm; she had been asleep for several hours. Rubbing her eyes and stretching her limbs, she tried to get the blood flowing into her sleepy body. She felt terrible. She hated sleeping during the day, it always made her feel grumpy and irritable. She realised she must have fallen asleep searching for information on Bioavancement S.a.r.l.; another wasted hour spent fruitlessly tapping in different combinations of words into search engines. She didn’t understand why there was no information at all on the company. It was almost as if it didn’t exist. She reached into her bag for her phone and checked for new messages, but there was nothing, not even from Leon. Unwilling to drag her heavy limbs off the comfortable bed just yet, Eva turned her attention to her computer. Her email inbox told her a new Facebook message had arrived. Quickly she navigated to the website, glancing over a news feed full of gurgling babies, tropical beaches and drunken revellers and opened her messages folder. It was Sophie. At first, the message she was reading made no sense to Eva. It seemed almost as if it had been written in code.

  ‘It is never safe. You must understand. Soon.’

  As she read it again Eva tried to put it in context. Sophie could well have written this in a rush from a location in which she didn’t feel safe and where she wasn’t confident that she wasn’t being overlooked. That would explain the short sentences and the urgency of the message: ‘It is never safe.’ However, whilst the fact that she had replied at all was positive, as was the fact that she seemed to want to meet, it wasn’t the kind of response Eva had hoped for. Sophie hadn’t named a time or place, or even a method of communication so, once again, Eva could do nothing but wait.

  She flipped her laptop shut in frustration, leaned back against the bed and ran a hand through her long hair. For some reason her skin was tingling with adrenaline. Sophie’s message had made her nervous. Every step Eva took seemed to fall short of getting her any closer to what was really going on. And yet here she was, ‘never safe,’ as Sophie had phrased it. She stood up and pushed her laptop aside, paused at the edge of the bed, then stalked around the room for several minutes. Finally she drew the curtains shut, threw off her T-shirt and headed for the shower.

  Outside Eva’s hotel, Tahir watched as the light flicked on in the room he knew was her bathroom and then he waited until he saw clouds of steam starting to rise through the extractor fan. He regretted volunteering for this kill, but he was well aware that Wiraj felt he had not yet proved himself. During the execution of the British man in the suburbs he had taken up a position by the door, his back to Joseph Smith as he did his devil’s work. Wiraj had been visibly unamused by Tahir’s apparent cowardice, ashamed almost. Tahir had tried to ignore the sense of shame it created but Wiraj had a way of making one see one’s own faults so clearly.

  Sometimes the fervour in Wiraj’s eyes frightened Tahir. Back in the Sudan they had all been insurgents, apart from Nijam who had been somehow swept along by his brother’s fire. During those long nights when they had discussed the injustice, their cause had seemed valid. A new administration for their country, one that would open it up to business opportunities, wealth and progress for all, not just the corrupt few. But here, in Paris, Wiraj’s plans seemed almost laughable. Even with the money they would make from doing this job for Joseph Smith, Wiraj’s conviction that they could be crusaders against their own broken nation seemed ambitious at best.

  Not for the first time, Tahir wondered whether Wiraj had really thought through the association with Joseph Smith. Tahir remembered Joseph Smith from school. He had been a loner as a child, the kind of boy who liked to pull the wings off birds and torture stray dogs. Tahir felt little em
pathy for the creatures that were hurt, but he thought that this behaviour showed that Smith did not understand how the world worked. He left the victims of his torture sessions on the road for all to see, and worse, he did what he did in public. Whilst Tahir was no saint – once he had beaten his girlfriend so hard after a disagreement that she was hospitalised for a week – he was at least clever about what he did. He had simply claimed there had been an intruder, a burglar. He filed a police report for lost cash and a stolen watch and ensured no one would ever speak of it by implying his girlfriend had let the man in to sleep with her. No one had ever challenged his version of events and the blame – as well as the shame – had fallen squarely on her. But Joseph Smith seemed to lack both sense and foresight and, as far as Tahir was concerned, that made him a bad associate. He didn’t understand what Wiraj thought Smith could offer them in the way of assistance, unless there was something he knew that he hadn’t shared with the rest of the group. But now was not the time for doubts. Tahir knew he had to act. He had done this kind of work before and the best time to catch a victim was when they were at their most vulnerable – asleep, having sex or engaged in any activity in the bathroom, where most people tended to feel they were safe. Eva Scott had just turned on the shower, which meant that now was his moment, the best chance he was going to get to do this cleanly.

  According to Wiraj, the receptionist had been bribed so there would be no trouble getting in or out of the hotel as long as he made no mess. The hotel security cameras were off, only two other rooms were occupied, and there was no CCTV in the vicinity, so the risks were few.

  He tucked the leather syringe case under his arm and walked towards the end of the alley where he had been hiding, turning in the direction of the entrance to the hotel. But as he went to step onto the pavement, he suddenly found himself being pushed backwards and propelled in reverse into the alleyway. A fist crashed with incredible force into the side of his head, shattering the bone of his left cheek and he dropped the leather case to bring up the flick knife in his pocket. Hearing the sssssh of Tahir’s blade, his assailant expertly head-butted him, sending rivers of pain shimmering across the front of his nose and skull. Tahir grunted, stumbled back, one hand still brandishing the knife, the other pressed against his nose. He tried to get a glimpse of whose fists he was on the receiving end of, but the narrow street was dark and the assailant was dressed all in black. Tahir took several steps back, then positioned himself defensively, ready for the mystery attacker’s next hit. The man in front of him did not hesitate. He aimed a sharp kick at Tahir’s wrist, sending the knife skittering away. As Tahir hit out, making contact with the assailant’s chest and left arm, the man delivered a sharp, disabling blow to the side of Tahir’s head that made him see stars. With unnatural force, a shaky, disorientated Tahir felt himself being pulled towards the man and locked into a strange embrace. He felt one arm wrap around his torso, the other around his head and he was held for just a second. Then his neck was broken.

  TWELVE

  AT 4AM, EVA AWOKE WITH A START in the cold dimness of her room. There’s someone here. Her heartbeat spiked as she sensed movement in the thick darkness. She had turned out her light an hour before, after finally forcing herself to ignore a barrage of fearful thoughts about everything that had been happening to her. But she knew she wasn’t imagining it and there was someone else in the room. She resisted calling out or shouting for help. As long as the intruder thought she was asleep she had a slight advantage. Very slowly, she began pushing herself upright on the bed, her left hand stealthily reaching for the bedside lamp, the only weapon she could think of. Just as she felt her fingers close around the wire at the base of the cheap, pottery lamp, a figure appeared out of the shadows and moved like lightning across the room to the bed. Quickly, Eva yanked at the lamp and heard the loose plug pop out of the socket. She tried to get out of bed, but the oval of a face loomed over her and she was pushed backwards. She brought the lamp heavily into contact with the shadowy figure but it seemed to have no effect and, as a piece of material was shoved into her open mouth, she started to choke. She hit out again with the lamp, this time with more force, and heard a grunt as the pottery base broke against a shoulder. But the pieces of the shattered lamp just fell on the floor and the dark force above her kept on pushing her down, covering more of her face with the strange-smelling piece of material that now filled her mouth. Weaponless and barely able to breathe, Eva beat out with her fists and kicked with her feet but she could feel herself becoming nauseous and dizzy. She tried to scream through the material but the strong arms pinned her to the bed and her strength faded as the room started to spin.

  Suddenly there was a light bright in her eyes and she felt whoever was holding her down loosen their grip as they turned towards the overhead light. She fought the nausea and dizziness drowning her and lashed out with one arm, willing her eyes to adjust quickly to the bright overhead light. Her eyes cleared and she could see the dark skin of an enormous hand holding the drugged fabric over her mouth and nose. Weakly she tried to push the arm away and then the man stood up, dropped the piece of fabric and gripped her head instead, pulling her backwards and upright in the bed by her hair. Woozily, Eva saw the bright flash of a knife in his left hand. Then everything seemed to just stand still. The man dropped the knife harmlessly onto her chest and began to fall forward over her; with the last of her energy she scrabbled out of the way and fell over the edge of the bed and onto the floor on the other side, her vision swimming. When she looked up over the side of the bed the man was face down on the bed, breathing heavily, his eyes closed.

  ‘Get up.’

  Leon’s voice. She turned her head and looked up at him as he loomed at her fuzzily in front of the light.

  ‘Turn the light off,’ she said breathlessly and leaned back against the bed trying to draw deep, stabilising breaths.

  Leon leaned over her and flicked on the switch for the remaining bedside lamp that was positioned on the table by her head then strode back across the room and turned off the main light.

  The two stared at each other from opposite sides of the room. Eva was fighting a heavy combination of adrenaline and dizziness.

  ‘I have no idea what the fuck you are doing, Leon. Or what the hell is going on.’

  She was still breathing heavily and her mind was unable to focus.

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘This amateur special ops crap is really wearing me out.’

  Even as she spoke in a voice that sounded nothing like her own, and despite the heaviness in her head, Eva was acutely aware of the unconscious man on the bed and her body was rigid with tension. But her head still felt dizzy and she could feel herself going into shock. None of this felt real. Leon slowly walked towards her and crouched in front of her on the floor.

  ‘Eva.’ He handed her a bottle of water from the bedside table.

  ‘Eva, I don’t know much of what is going on here either.’

  She drank the water and tried to focus on his face. She started to feel better.

  ‘I hope you understand that I had to let you experience this. It was the only way to flush these people out.’

  She looked at him uncomprehending. Then the penny dropped. ‘You’ve been using me as bait.’

  He nodded.

  ‘That‘s just great.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be such a fucking idiot. Do you think this is a film?’

  ‘That’s why I tried to warn you before… ’

  She laughed. ‘That was your way of warning me?’

  ‘It is a complex situation.’

  ‘You really need to take some lessons in communication.’

  A flash of anger rippled across his face.

  ‘What have you done to him?’ she said, nodding at the man on the bed. She heard herself speak – matter-of-factly, in a calm, thick voice – and she wondered how on earth she wasn’t having some sort of panic attack after what
had just happened. But she wasn’t, and that was good.

  ‘Tranquiliser.’

  ‘Why not just kill him? Add another to your tally?’

  ‘I had enough trouble disposing of the first body. We have fifteen minutes until he wakes up.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘You have to come with me now. I have a safe house, in the country.’

  ‘You must be joking.’

  Leon looked at her. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘I’m not sure I feel any safer with you than on my own. You behave like a psychopath.’

  A tense silence fell in the room. Eva felt impressed at her own honesty. But she just wanted him to leave. Wherever Leon was there seemed to be chaos.

  ‘If you stay on your own they will kill you today.’