by PJ Vye
“That’s not why you’re here.”
“Yes, it is. You want me to sell you the process. Teach you how to make it so you can sell it to the highest pharmaceutical bidder. I understand you completely.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
It’s why they kept him locked up—to trial the theory to see if they needed him or not to recreate it. They must have had trouble, because now they wanted to buy his knowledge. “I haven’t considered selling the formula, but I’ll let you know if I do. Thanks for your time. I’d like to leave now.”
The suits gave each other knowing looks and Mataio wondered what his chances were of getting home in one piece today.
Jim answered carefully, “We don’t want you to sell us the product. We want to bury it.”
Mataio had only been half listening. “You what?”
Jim took a clicker from his pocket and pointed it at a projector. It looked out of place, temporarily set up on the only table in the room. A series of images of statistics and graphs beamed onto a semi-white wall. Jim said, “Did you know diet-related chronic diseases are the most common cause of death in the developed world? They result in more people dying than everything else put together.”
Where’d they pull that statistic from?
The graph showed estimated future projections as Jim continued to speak to the wall. “If we let people eat whatever they want, with no consequence of weight gain, how do you think that’s going to affect the health industry? A magical weight loss product is a band-aid effect and will only put our health and agricultural industry under further strain. It’s a potential global disaster.”
“We want to buy your silence on the discovery,” said the man in the cream suit with wide lapels. “So it never goes public.”
The bastards already know it works!
Mataio had known it was too easy—like the compound was so obvious it couldn’t have been missed. The diet and pharmaceutical industry controlled everything. A product that took away all the necessity for diet and nutrition and exercise—well they were right about one thing—it could change the world.
“You want to pay me off, to keep this quiet?” said Mataio.
“Yes. And to never speak of it again.”
“What about the money you could make?”
“We’ve done the sums and we make more money selling diet products and pharmaceuticals to combat the illnesses associated with obesity, than we would by selling this one product.”
“How many others discovered this compound before me? Who else have you paid off?”
“A few.”
“How many?”
“Three.”
“Individuals or research companies.”
“Research companies.”
“That must have cost you a lot of money.”
“It’s surprising how the promise of funding hundreds of other projects can be more appealing than the potential of one unproven compound that may or may not get through human testing. We tend to be generous with our offers. It’s hard to turn down.”
“I understand.” Mataio hadn’t really given much thought to what came next when—and if—Junior got well.
Once The Rules ended he would’ve been free to sell the patent anywhere he wanted. Maybe he’d have buried it anyway, given his human trial was illegal and he’d lose his medical license for testing it without approval.
Did he really want to continue practicing medicine once The Rules lifted?
The suits shifted on their feet a little when Jim finally asked, “So how much will it cost us to bury this? Your best offer.”
“I’m guessing you have a figure in mind—somewhere around the price I would get on the open market plus the value of loss of notoriety.”
“We have a price in mind. You need to make the first offer.”
“What if you pay me and someone else speaks out?”
“You mean your family? Or that carer…”
“Bernadette,” offered the short, bald suit to Mataio’s left.
Mataio wasn’t surprised they knew his close contacts. Bernadette was probably the reason these men heard about it.
Jim continued. “Yes, Bernadette. If anyone you’ve been in contact with speaks out, no-one will believe them. Not without evidence and we’ve taken care of that. Sure, you could re-create it, but they can’t, so it’s really only your silence we’re buying. If you accept our offer and don’t live up to the terms and conditions, well…let’s just say we’re pretty firm on the terms and conditions.”
Jim looked out at Mark through the glass and Mataio read his unspoken threat. They had ways to keep him quiet and with what was at stake, he wouldn’t be surprised if they’d silence him the old-fashioned way.
“What’s your price?” The thick eyebrowed man sneered.
Jim frowned at him.
Mataio stayed focused on Jim. “I need some time to think about it.”
“What’s there to think about?” Someone yelled. Mataio didn’t catch who it was but everyone in the circle seemed to agree.
“Mat, this is your best option. Sure, you could sell to the highest pharmaceutical bidder, but then your life will never be the same again. You’d be known as the guy who cured obesity and with that comes a shit load of trouble.”
Jim took a step closer, put a hand on Mataio’s shoulder and lowered his voice. “You live a solitary life, Mataio. You’re almost a recluse; no friends, no social life, no vices. What could you possibly want with that kind of notoriety? We both know what we’re offering—money, peace and quiet—it’s a great option for you.”
Mataio knew he was right. He didn’t want to be the guy who cured obesity. He wanted to find a quiet place to live that didn’t involve The Rules or grief or guilt.
“This cure could help a lot of people,” he said eventually. “My cousin is just the first. People with type II diabetes, heart disease. People could have their lives back again. Shouldn’t the world have access to something that could make their lives better?”
“Sure, if it’s monitored carefully and closely. But who’s going to do that? Not the government. They’ll want to make as much money as they possibly can. Which means only the people with enough cash will be able to buy this drug.”
But it could also save lives, he wanted to say. Rule No. 10—Community Service. It was why he’d become a doctor. He was bound by The Rules to save lives, at least for the next two days. “I need some time to think about it. And I need everything put back in my lab. I haven’t finished there yet.”
“We can’t do that, Doctor Brinn.”
“The time or the lab?”
“Either. The longer this is out there, the more people will find out.”
“I need to keep my cousin alive. That’s a priority for me.”
“We can’t let you set up that lab again, Doctor.”
“Then I don’t agree.”
“$100 million dollars.”
Mataio didn’t hesitate. “You can’t put a price on my cousin’s life.”
“Are you sure? You could buy him some pretty good care—the conventional way—with that kind of money.”
Mataio’s mind raced. He could hire a private jet and fly Junior and his aunt back to Samoa. Junior would get well again there. He could go too. Maybe practice medicine in Samoa. “I need time to think about it.”
Jim looked at the other suits—some shrugged, some shook their heads. “I’ll give you twelve hours.”
“I’ll need forty-eight.”
If he decided to take the offer, he couldn’t accept it until The Rules had expired.
“We’ll meet back here twenty-four hours from now.”
Mataio nodded and glanced around the room. There weren’t a lot of smiles and no-one was negotiating further. He turned his back on the suits and left the room, half expecting to be stopped.
Mark handed him his phone and led him onto the street. The daylight surprised him—like he’d expected that kind of negotiation only to be at night.
$100 million seemed like an improper amount of money. How do you even transfer that much money? How do you explain to the taxation office where it came from? Would Junior and his aunt agree to return to Samoa without La’ei?
What would Sunny think?
Mataio grit his teeth and boarded a bus. As the streets flashed past, he began scribbling his choices on the back of an old receipt.
Didn’t matter which way he looked at it, all options led to breaking The Rules. If Jim had given him another twenty-four hours, he’d have been free to do whatever he wanted.
He counted driveways mindlessly for a while, his mind too restless to settle.
When the idea came to him, it seemed like the perfect solution. By the time he had the details sorted, he’d arrived at the train depot. He took out his phone, spent several minutes working out how to dial a number, and made the call.
Forty-Four
MATAIO
2 days to go
He knocked gently on Junior’s door—a habit he’d started before he’d gone away. The formality of it seemed necessary now Junior was becoming more mobile.
“Come in, cousin,” came his deep rumble. Mataio couldn’t help but notice the difference, even just in his voice. It brimmed with easy acceptance and a dash of enthusiasm.
“Bru,” said Mataio and took his cousin’s outstretched hand, thumbs wrapped around each other like they used to do. “How you feeling?”
“Do you ever get tired of asking that question, Bru?” Junior asked. “Do you get sick of the answer? Your job must really suck, Bru.”
He said it all with a grin on his face and Mataio laughed—the first time he could remember laughing since…he couldn’t remember when. He was sure Sunny had been there though.
“There are worse things, Bru,” he said as he placed his stethoscope on the man’s chest. “Nice shirt. Is purple really your colour?”
“I haven’t been able to wear a shirt for over a year, my friend, so I’d wear pink with purple unicorns if it fit me,” said Junior as he leaned forward to allow Mataio access to his back.
“Do you still need the lifter?” asked Mataio. “You’d have easier access in and out of the bed if we moved it out.”
“Get rid of it. I won’t need it again.”
“Really?”
“I’m never going back, Mataio. You’ve no idea how good it is to move until you can’t.”
“You think you could monitor your diet yourself now? No more serum?”
“I didn’t say that. I still need all the help I can get. But Ma and I have talked a lot over the last few days and we’ve come up with a plan. She’s going to help too. Less food, less mothering.
In a few weeks, I’m going to be able to be a bit more helpful around the house. Fix a few things. Paint the place. Maybe even cook a meal for you and her every once in a while.”
“What if there was no more serum from now on? Do you think you could manage?”
Junior stopped smiling. “Don’t do that Mataio. That’s not fair. Why? Are you going away again? You always do this.”
“Slow down. I’m just…I’ve just…got to make some decisions. And the supply of this serum is going to be more difficult to produce.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
Mataio wanted Junior’s sole focus to be on his recovery. “What if I told you I could get you to Samoa. You, me and Aunt. By the end of the week?”
“Ufa,” said Junior and punched Mataio on the arm, much harder than he thought him capable.
“I mean it, JJ. A private jet. No squeezing into a commercial airline seat.”
“Se chef ia? Where you gonna get the money?”
“Private jet hire would be supplied. In return for an interview.”
“An interview with who?”
“Someone from the Nine Network.”
“With me?”
“No. With me. But I’d need your permission. They’d want photos—before and after. Statistics. They might come and ask a few questions. You just need to tell them the truth.”
“Hang on. I thought you told them I was dead.”
“I did. I have to prove now you didn’t.”
“Won’t you lose your medical license?”
“Yeah. That’s why I’m coming to Samoa with you.”
“Shit man, you’d do that for me?”
“And for Aunt.”
“That’s a lot to give up, Tuagane,” said Junior.
Mataio didn’t hear him call him brother often. He felt a thud in his chest. “I don’t see any other way.”
Junior sat looking at his hands, turning them over and under. “I honestly never thought I’d get to touch anything new ever again. Just the things in this room. You. Ma. I thought this room would be the last thing I saw when I checked out. The idea that I might see the ocean again. Oh shit, is my passport still current?”
“Yep. Already checked. You alright with the whole media thing? They might ask questions you’re uncomfortable answering. Are you sure you’re okay with that?”
“If leaving this room on a one-way trip to Samoa is at the end of it, I’ll tell them any shitty detail they want. Flight to Samoa—when are we talking? This year?”
“This week, Tuagane,” said Mataio.
A small well of tears formed in the man’s eyes and he wiped it briskly away. “And Mum agrees?”
“I haven’t told Aunt yet.”
Junior’s chin sunk heavily into his chest. “Well, that fantasy was short lived. There’s no way she’ll go.”
“I was hoping you’d ask her.”
“Fiti, Mataio. Why’d you get me all worked up thinking it was happening. She’ll never leave, and you know I can’t go without her. If we left without her she’d fade away.”
“We have to go, JJ. There’s no other way. You’ve got to help me to convince her.”
“Convince me of what?” Aunt Tulula said at the door. “What’s going on?
Junior shared a look with Mataio—one that said it’s now or never.
“I see you’re back, Mataio. How nice for us.” Aunt ’s barrage continued as she straightened Junior’s bed covers. “I don’t suppose there’s any point asking where you’ve been? Or why you left me to deal with Bernadette on my own?”
“Ma come sit with me,” said Junior, his arm outstretched. Four weeks ago, he wouldn’t have had the strength to hold his arm up at all, let alone the ten seconds it took for his aunt to stop tucking and come to him.
She sat quickly on the bed where he patted, holding her son’s hand and pulling it close.
“Are you feeling alright? What is it? Is something wrong?" She touched his forehead with her other hand, then his cheeks. Without seeing any visible signs of distress, she looked to Mataio. Lines of distrust for him on her face more pronounced than ever. “What’s going on?”
Mataio turned to Junior and his aunt followed his gaze. “We’re going home, Momma,” he said, smiling sadly. Junior knew as well as Mataio that going back to Samoa for his mother meant giving up and accepting an unspoken truth.
“What do you mean? You can’t travel. Mataio, tell him he can’t travel. Tell him right now.”
Mataio stood at the top of the bed so she could see both the men before her in the same line of sight. How could she resist Junior’s expression?
“I’ve got a medical team and private charter plane booked for tomorrow to take us all—you, me and Junior, to Apia. From there a medical escort to Saletoga. I’ve spoken to Uncle. He’s expecting us. I can look after Junior and finish his treatment, away from the mess that’s about to erupt here. You can see your brothers and sisters again, Aunt. Home again.”
Her face stayed stony still, her eyes stuck on Mataio. He watched a slideshow of emotion pass behind her eyes without a single movement in her face. The only sign she’d heard him speak was the veins sticking up on the hand that clenched Junior’s.
“Momma?” asked Junior, his voice high pitched and childlike, like he was asking for
an ice-cream before dinner and knew there was little hope of getting it.
Like a turtle waking up from hibernation, his aunt’s neck slowly turned away from Mataio and towards her son, her eyes blinking slowly like she was completely drunk. “We wait, Junior. Until you are ready. A year from now you’ll be ready. We wait.”
“We can’t wait, Aunt.”
“I don’t care what you need to do, Mataio, but Junior and I need to wait. Any mess you’ve got us into, you will get us out of. We are staying.”
“Ma, I want to go now. I’m well enough. Be honest. It’s not me you’re waiting for.”
She clicked her tongue and gave Mataio an accusing look as if it were his words coming from Junior’s mouth. “I don’t want to hear another word about it,” she said, standing to straighten the covers again. “Now, what do you want for lunch?”
“I’m going Ma. You can stay here and wait for La’ei if you want to, but I’m going.”
“What’s the big rush? This is all happening too fast. What’s going on Mataio?”
“The serum I discovered—it’s about to come out. You need to be gone or this house will be a living nightmare. You remember the press don’t you, Aunt?”
“Why are you releasing the serum, Mataio? What are you doing?”
“I’m coming to Samoa, as soon as I’ve got a passport. You know I’ve never been and it’s time for me to go. Samoa is the best place to hide out until all this blows over.”
“Blows over? Your medical license won’t just blow back. I won’t accept it Mataio. All the sacrifices this family made for you to become a doctor. You just call up those newspaper people and take it back. We had a perfectly believable story beforehand. Why would you change that?”
“There’s some pretty powerful industries out there who want to keep us quiet.”
“Well, I agree with them.”
“But it’s not right, Aunt. This product works and they keep burying it. Imagine if Junior had access to it a year ago? Maybe he wouldn’t have gotten as bad as he did. This could save a lot of people. I have to release it.”
