by Piotr Ryczko
Anne wasn’t doing this for her daughter. It wasn’t done out of concern. But out of fear for her own name.
Viola took in several deep breaths, and her head began to clear.
After she had come out of the clinic, her mind had been tainted with serious doubt. But now everything crystallised. She felt herself reaffirmed on her course of action. She needed to do the opposite of what her mother had told her.
She needed to find Marianne.
Chapter 28
Late evening
She had waited all day outside his lab. She was hoping he would exit alone, and for once, something had gone right. The scrawny man made his exit with no company, leaving the way open for Viola to go after the lab technician from Aurora Biobank.
Before he managed to reach his ride, she slid herself between him and the door. With an innocuous smile across her face, she made an attempt at formulating her first plea for help.
“Hey, Lady! I told you to leave me alone,” he hissed at her as he stepped back.
“Please. This test. I need to know the results. There are lives at stake here.” The guy seemed unhinged, and her jumping him in the back alley didn’t help.
“What? You bring those phoney samples to me, and now what? You people from the Health and Welfare department are some piece of work, huh? Leave me alone, once and for all, okay?” He spat the words out at her and pushed his way towards his car.
“Hold on. Please. Please.” She flashed her journalist credentials in his face. And as he glanced at it, he recognised her true identity.
“Uh-huh. Okay, I get it. You are not from the department?” He shook his head in dismay. “And you are not here to check up on me or our business? Or do a story on us?” He still had trouble grasping the simple truth behind her identity. She nodded impatiently.
“Listen, Lady, why do you think I reacted the way I did? Especially when you bring me a sample that couldn’t possibly be human. Someone else...”
“Hey, hey, stop! Did you just say ‘not human’?” she said.
“Similar. Think 99.9 percent similar. But that’s how far it got. Would quicker go for an ape than a human. Both females.” He summed up the facts, which suited his world view completely.
“Wait, wait. Is it feasible this was human after all?” She pushed an alternative version of truth at him. But his initial expression told the whole story.
“Lady, do you realise what 0.1 percent means in this case? Monkey for sure. Unless they had the best from MIT at their disposable and millions worth of high-tech gear for some kind of gene editing. Not for another ten years, and certainly not in Norway.” He smirked.
“Like Clustered Regularly Interspaced Short Palindromic Repeats – editing and splicing? In other words, CRISPR?” she interjected, instantly stopping his ironic chuckle. “Did you do a pass for the mito-disease?” She disregarded his baffled face, and pursued the matter further.
“Yeah, I did. Mother had mitochondrial disease, as you suspected.” He pursed his lips.
“And what about her child?” Her eyes strained with great force at him. And it struck her how much she needed to know this. How much she longed for this answer to be something other than what she expected.
“No traces whatsoever.”
He shook his head.
As Viola heard the final confirmation, she felt a surge pass through her body. She suspected there might be some doubts as to the results. She was prepared for a no. God, she was used to them. They had covered her life like an impregnable carpet.
So the next best thing would be an approximation. A ballpark figure. A fifty-fifty chance would be fantastic.
But this? An unequivocal one hundred percent. This only left her body trembling. The impossible had indeed been made possible.
* * *
Viola squeezed herself into the car. She fumbled the keys into the ignition. The car was freezing, so why was she burning up? This was no ordinary fever yet, at this moment, she didn’t care. She had all the confirmation she would ever need from the techie.
Maybe, just maybe, she had warped everything inside out. Maybe she had mistaken the past twenty years for being real.
And what was happening now was the very first real thing in her life. Yes. That’s how it was.
* * *
She was about to start the car when a set of headlights blinded her. She squinted her eyes and soon enough glimpsed a dark figure approaching her. She clutched at the steering wheel, realising the car in front of her had blocked her exit.
Before she could do anything else, a stocky palm knocked on her side shield. She was about to start screaming when a familiar face pressed itself up against the glass – the Chief Inspector from the police station.
Her mind gorged on all the paranoid configurations imaginable. What was this man doing here at this late hour? How did he know she was here? He must have followed her. And if he had, he must have seen her with the lab technician.
“We need to talk,” he practically growled at her, and before she could protest, he heaved his body inside the car and threw a tablet onto her lap. Her body bristled at this behaviour, but his nod wouldn’t take no for an answer.
She gripped the tablet, and several images were revealed to her. Viola recognised them as the English couple she had seen while she was in the waiting room at the clinic.
“London based. Wealthy. And about to raise hell. Legal dispute over a breach of contract. But InviNordica is making sure this gets squashed before it hits trial.” The Chief Inspector didn’t mince any words, and judging from his composure, he was about to bulldoze over Viola’s lack of cooperation.
“Contract? What contract?” she queried, wanting to get at the core of the truth. He smirked back and pointed at the next page of the pdf document.
This answered her question. An official agreement that laid out the legal terms of the IVF treatment. At first sight, it had all the standard legal stuff, disclosing nothing out of the ordinary.
Her legal knowledge was as barebones as it could get, but there it was, in plain sight, measured with the clinical precision of an AutoCAD architectural drawing: the exact expected measurements of a child’s body. “And no less than one hundred fifteen cm at age three and four months.” These measurements proceeded to trace the baby’s physical evolution up to the age of fifteen years. A myriad of different body measurements were given their own expectancies. All done with little room for error.
“What the hell is this?” The words somehow stumbled out of her mouth, but there was no afterthought. Her mind began to feel muddy. Uncertain. What did this mean? Was this even real? And if so, then where did she stand in all of this?
The Chief Inspector grinned at her, apparently amused at her confusion.
“These people aren’t suing InviNordica for failed IVF attempts. But because they had a dream. If you can call it that. With swimming quickly becoming one of the major elite sports in the UK, they set out to for their girl to become a top-level swimmer. But things didn’t quite go according to their plan.” He recited the facts, yet beneath the words was unabated scorn. This man had made his judgement a long time ago. And it was without compromise. His finger raced to the next page and pointed towards even more data, to some foetus measurements expectancies.
“Get this. Their two-year-old daughter’s body is not performing up to the contract’s spec.” He guffawed at his own words, “So they are suing InviNordica’s ass to kingdom come.” He delivered his punchline, and gave off another hoarse chuckle. Viola locked gazes with him and threw the tablet into his lap.
“This is some sick joke, right?” she hissed at him, with no more patience for this. This was enough to extinguish his laugh. He shook his head in denial.
“Miss Voss, this is very real.” He flung the words at her.
Viola realised he wasn’t a man to waste anyone’s time with some petty evidence. The document he produced was real. All the more reason for her to get him out of her car. As soon as possible.
But as she nodded him out, he drilled his eyes into her, making sure he got her undivided attention.
“If our suspicions turn out to be true, the women involved in this thing are risking a minimum sentence of five to six years. And you are looking at three to four years for obstructing justice. But if I have any say, and believe me, I will, then I will see to it personally you get way more. Just so you remember what it is like to use sick people for your own agendas. Are we on the same page, Miss Voss?”
All of a sudden, Viola felt caged, blocked at every corner. However she turned this whole thing around, the implications would leave her life in upheaval forever. She needed to breathe, needed some focus, but this car, this man, everything was crushing in on her.
“I will make you a deal. I will get you off on probation, two to three months. You walk away all clean.”
“In exchange for...?” she croaked out at him.
“For telling me what is going on inside there.” He stated this as plainly as possible, without a grain of emotional baggage. And as she eyed him, she knew this man would carry out his threat without even the slightest flinch.
“Officer, I was at the clinic for one day only. They treated me professionally, and I have nothing to add. Now, if you please?” she whispered, then pushed his door open.
Without any protest, he climbed out of the car. Relief passed through her as he slammed the door behind him. But then he leaned his head against the window.
“Pity about your mitochondrial disease and Markus, huh? If I were you, I would probably do the same thing. Only this time, Mummy won’t be around to save your ass. And the only rehab you will be doing will be behind bars.” He grinned at her, then nodded her off.
She stamped on the gas and revved away.
If there was one thing she was certain of, it was that if their paths ever crossed again, it would be her downfall.
Night
Her foot was still glued to the gas pedal when she realised she was running on empty. She had driven blindly, hoping this endless, lightless forest road would lead her to some answers.
She hadn’t expected to be ambushed by the Chief Inspector. The threats were simple and direct this time, but she didn’t expect any less. She had earned them, after abandoning Pål like she had.
But this didn’t shake her. What turned her world upside down were the simple, yet undeniable facts about InviNordica.
Surely this document had to refer to something other than a living and breathing human. A being of flesh and blood, with chromosomes threaded through each of its cells. With a soul radiating from the deepest recesses of its being. A marvel of life. Someone who would put all their unconditional trust in her mother from day one.
Yet, having seen that contract, she realised this child was little more than a piece of re-engineering, a proof of concept, set up to some ideal specification by people who expected more.
A lot more.
She felt queasy just thinking about it. Her mind was spinning into the dark corner tainted by the memories of her son. There was a clear border that separated her and those parents. She was certain of that. After all, these people had clearly made their baby into some twisted construct. They had done this out of some desire that she couldn’t quite grasp. A superficial want.
Then she held herself back. Because she realised it was easy enough to judge their choices.
But when she thought about it, wasn’t it every parent’s unvoiced wish? Didn’t we all yearn for our kids to be more resilient, smarter, stronger, more attractive, more able to handle the tough hurdles of the current world? And didn’t we invest all our savings, and our time, to give them the best chance possible, the best shot at a future? Sending them to the most prestigious schools, giving them the best tutors, feeding them the most nutritious food, and showering them with the latest educational toys. All done in the name of giving our loved ones a head start in this rat race. And did anyone judge this course of action?
So why shouldn’t these people be allowed to do what she had just seen laid out in that contract? Were they any different to the rest of us?
She had no problems with this part. She could maybe even see a part of herself in their actions. But then the other sort of questions appeared. The ones that weren’t so easily answered.
Would their baby’s success make them more fulfilled? And who was this done for, ultimately? After all, how could they know if their needs and dreams would also be their kid’s? With such high expectations, how would these people feel if their kid turned out to be something less? Would they love it as much as if it had been perfect? Would they be able to love a cripple? And would they understand what unconditional love really is? That it wasn’t built upon wants, needs, or expectations, but on giving themselves to their little ones, loving them and accepting them as an autonomous entity.
Where was she in all of this?
There was the mitochondrial disease. While she didn’t quite understand these people’s actions, her Markus had come to be out of pain and necessity. Surely that had to count for something. If not for this necessity, Ingrid’s boy would never see into his mother’s eyes. She could question these parents’ motivations for building the perfect specimen, but could she question Ingrid for saving her child from a certain death?
Still, the doubt hammered away at her. Bit by bit, her conscience crumbled. Was she actually any better than them?
Suddenly, she stopped the car as the snowed-in forest road ended abruptly. She eyed the surrounding area.
And realised she was at a dead end.
Chapter 29
Thursday, 18th February 2016
Dawn
Viola stepped out of her car and ploughed through the knee-deep snow towards her apartment. She hadn’t made it to the door before she was greeted by Stine’s worn face. The old woman was shaking from the unbearable cold, yet she stood there as sturdy as a rock at Viola’s door.
“You wanna come in?” The last thing she wanted was Stine occupying her apartment for the rest of the morning. But as she glanced at her, she felt sorry for her. Fortunately, Stine shook her head to Viola’s offer but barricaded the entrance with her body.
As the old woman removed her wool hat, it struck Viola what terrible shape she was in. Feverish eyes, bloodshot from lack of sleep, sunken cheeks – she was falling apart. And it somehow struck Viola as ironic, each of them with their lives torn to pieces, each with their own drama playing out at a high note. Viola knew this wouldn’t hold for much longer. Stine’s heart wouldn’t hold, nor would hers.
“You found her, didn’t you, Miss?” Stine shrilled the words at Viola with a delirious insistence, while her trembling hands unpacked a container of Snus, probably the only way for the old woman to soothe her nerves.
“Stine, please. I have zero proof she is in there.” Viola sighed, hoping the softness of her tone would somehow take off the sharpest edge of Stine’s turmoil.
But upon hearing Viola’s resistance, Stine grabbed a huge chunk of Snus and started to cram it into her upper lip. Satisfied with a moist hit of tobacco, her body relaxed enough to collect her thoughts and continue.
“Miss! Why should I, a stupid farmer widow, have to explain the simple things to Miss? Huh? She is in there. One hundred percent sure.” She chewed through her Snus, then spat some in front of her.
“So now we have that settled. Yes?” Stine pursed her lips into a hard circle.
“And Miss is gonna go in there. And Miss is gonna get my Marianne back home. Right? Or I’ll have to go to the police. To get their help, of course. Maybe even today.” Stine added the words, but to Viola they seemed far from an afterthought. Had she miscalculated this woman’s intentions? Were they a part of some kind of scheme? Viola’s body strained at the mere thought.
“I told you I have no proof she is in there. But for the sake of argument, let’s say she is. Do you think the police will roll out the red carpet for her when they find out what’s happened inside there? She will be just as much
an accomplice as everyone else.” Viola pushed her argument, but immediately saw she wasn’t getting through.
“So maybe Miss should hurry, then? Huh? With me going to the police? Surely?” Stine smirked at her line of logic, which smelt nothing short of extortion. And one thing was sure, Viola wouldn’t be blackmailed, no matter how broken and desperate Marianne’s mother was.
“And your conscience? Isn’t that your daughter?” Viola questioned Stine, but the moment she uttered the words, she realised a simple fact. This woman lived by different ground rules. If she had a conscience, it was applied only when it was convenient.
And as if to confirm Viola’s thoughts, Stine chuckled hoarsely.
“Me, Miss? Me? I’ve killed animals with me bare hands since I was five. Small pleasure in every day. And I care for my whole family, even if some of them are alcoholics and wife-beaters. And after what that girl has gotten me through? All those years, all the worries and those sleepless nights.” Stine hissed at Viola, while baring her Snus-infested teeth. “No. No. No. Two years of this shit. Enough! She is in there! Mark my words! She comes home or I go to the cops. Then she and the rest of those mito-d sluts will end up on the front page of Miss’s newspaper.” The old woman spat the words with vehemence.
Yet it wasn’t the old woman’s deep-seated contempt that jolted Viola’s mind awake. It was the mention of the other women that fired off all the red lights.
Had she heard Stine correctly? How could the old woman know about the other women? After all, Viola had never mentioned them to anyone. Most of all not to Stine.
Viola locked gazes with Stine and searched her eyes for any clues.
Still, Viola wasn’t about to let this go that easily.
“Mito-d? What sluts?”
“Miss. I’ll go to police on Monday. That’s four days to find my daughter and get her out.” Stine’s eyes glared at Viola, letting her know their talk was finished.
Then she spat out the rest of her Snus on Viola’s shoes and left.
