Still Born said nothing. He was looking down at the mottled brown carpet, deep in thought. Like a doctor who doesn't know how to break bad news.
'What?' Virgo asked after a few seconds' silence. 'What's the matter?'
Born took a deep breath, and looked up.
'I'm not sure your daughter's going to make it to a police guard,' he said. Born's tone was hesitant but deliberately matter-of-fact: I don't want to tell you this, and you don't want to hear it. But this is how it is.
'What makes you say that?'
Born held out his hands, defending his line. 'I told you I'm not sure,' he said. 'But just after you left, I followed Genovsky to a restaurant downtown. After lunch she came out with a man – tall, with long grey hair in a ponytail. They were going separate ways, but at the last minute he shouted something to Genovsky. He told her not to worry about the girl, that she would be one of hundreds. He said nobody would make the connection.' He looked up. 'Genovsky looked a bit scared or maybe just annoyed, or something. Like he was slighting her. She didn't say anything. She just walked off.'
No. Born must be mistaken. Or lying. They were both tangled up in lies and half-truths. Was Born lying?
'I spoke to Katie,' Virgo said. 'She was getting on a plane. The guy putting her on the plane said everything would be OK if I just sat tight.'
Born arched an eyebrow again. 'Who's the guy? Maybe he doesn't get to decide?'
Yeah, maybe.
'I'm sorry, Nathaniel.' Born's voice was soft and unsure, like he had never had to show kindness before. It seemed genuine. Maybe that part was. After a couple of moments, Born lifted his gaze.
'Did you ever find out what happened to Gupta?' he said. He seemed to have his enthusiasm back. 'That's why I'm here. I think they're wiping out the opposition. The best quantum cryptography people. The only ones who can keep data secret if there's a quantum computer. And if they've got a quantum computer, they're not going to let anyone live who knows about it.' He paused. 'I'm right in the frame: Genovsky knows what I know. I came over to stop her before she kills me. That's still my plan. And now, I think, it has to be yours.'
Slowly, thoughtfully, Virgo shook his head.
'No,' he said, with a tone of defiant resolution. 'My plan has to be to get Katie safely off that plane.'
Born pursed his lips, and looked up. 'OK,' he said. 'Your plan first. Then mine.'
A silence hung in the air between them. After a couple of seconds, Born broke it.
'I can get us in,' he said. 'Into the warehouse, I mean. I found a hole in the side of the building. I think it must have been overlooked – it's some kind of goods exit, and there's a half door inset into it. The lock's broken.'
'How did you get that far? I thought you said there were armed guards?'
Born smiled. 'I think this set-up has been put together in a hurry. There's security at the front, but the perimeter patrol's lazy. I dived under the fence – there's several places where the ground has been dug out under the wire. Must be . . . I don't know, raccoons or something.' His eyes scanned Virgo's frame. 'If I can get my fat belly through, you can certainly make it.'
'And then what? We walk in and ask Genovsky to halt her dastardly deeds? Where's our bargaining power?'
Born raised an arm and pointed to the bed. 'Right there,' he said. Virgo turned his head and looked down at Gierek's machine.
Born had no idea what it really did. Neither did he. But he knew what Genovsky believed. That was enough.
'OK,' Virgo said. 'We should go.'
He bundled the machine back into the blanket, tucked it under his arm once more and followed Born out of the door. They walked side by side down the corridor to the elevator lobby.
Kenmore Square was looking more miserable than ever. It was already getting dark, and a cold rain began to fall as they emerged onto the sidewalk. People were shuffling hurriedly along the street, newspapers covering their heads as if they knew this was only the start of things. Virgo could see his breath condense against the red neon signs of the diner across the street. He thought of Rachel, and Katie, and shivered. Born pointed down the street, away from the square.
'My car's down here.'
CHAPTER 56
OH GOD, NOT TODAY. Thomas Wheelan pulled over, leaned his head against the steering wheel and tried to fight the nausea. Should he get out, get some air? At least with the rain and the late afternoon dark nobody would see him throwing up on the side of the road.
This had happened before, just occasionally, but today was not a good day for it. Could he call Eleanor, ask her if there was anything different about these pills? Not today. He would have to get through.
He chugged a couple more down. Maybe they were lowdose. Eleanor couldn't always control the supply, he knew that. She relied on her maid. What was he doing, a future president, relying on his sister's maid? When today was over, when everything in his future was clear, he would check into the clinic. He had friends at church who would swear they were on vacation with him for those few weeks. That was the beauty of the United Methodists: they understood the power of addiction. They were always ready to help.
Wheelan lifted his head and grimaced. The fog in his mind was clearing now. He wasn't going to throw up. The pills were a low-dose benzodiazepine; that must be it. Ellie wasn't to know; he would just have to take more of them today than usual. He opened the door and got out of the car, then grabbed at the black-painted metal of the door: standing up made his head spin. It was a cruel twist, that he was in this state after all that had happened to Joshua. But better that he knew how it felt to be so powerless. When in power – and clean – he would never forget. He would be a stronger leader for it, more empathetic, more understanding of America's problems than any president in history.
The rain soaked his hair, cleared his head. Wheelan watched the cars rush past. These people, the souls passing him by, were everything that today was about. It was going to be tough, but it was the right thing to do. By the end of the day, at the cost of just a few hundred lives, America was going to be on the right track again. No regrets.
Not even about Gabriel MacIntyre. It wasn't that Wheelan was comfortable with the plan. Eleanor was a good sister, and he would never do anything to hurt her. Or little Jennie. When all this was over, he'd make sure that they were taken care of.
But Gabe was out of his depth. Always had been, ever since he started dating Ellie. What was it their father had said? You can take the boy out of Arkansas . . . And Gabe's own father had just talked about 'them black folks'. Right up until the day he died, he had hated Gabe for marrying into a 'nigger' family. For years, all the years the old man was in the care home dying his slow, spiteful death, Ellie would cry over the kitchen table while Gabe went to sit at his bedside.
It was a shame about Gabe. You had to hand it to him: he had stood up to two fathers to marry his sweetheart. But there had to be a scapegoat, and it's not like he hadn't already strayed from the straight and narrow. He had become greedy, lost sight of that bigger picture. There was no room for regret: this was vital work. Wheelan knew he would have no trouble standing tall in a courtroom. Not that his case would ever make it to the judicial system. He had been too careful for that.
The rain started coming down harder, sharper, like wet steel spikes. The pills were kicking in now. It was time to go.
The thing at the burger joint still bugged him. Marinov hadn't said anything about needing another meeting with Gabe, and his people were too late to get anywhere near the conversation. If there was something amiss, he wanted to be in on the move to put it right. He had plugged plenty of holes at this stage in an operation. He used to do it himself, back when he wore a uniform to work. Suits were OK, but there was nothing like a uniform to focus the mind on a job that needed doing.
That was the trouble with seniority: he missed the action. You got good at something – anything – and they put you in a job where you took responsibility for people who couldn't cut it. They doubled your salary, put you in a su
it, and employed someone else to do your old job half as well. Government: the maintenance of mediocrity. Still, he could change that. And then there would be no more waste. He might have failed his own family, but he would stop the waste from ruining others.
Wheelan shook the rain from his hair and lowered himself back into the car. At least he could trust Marinov. That was the beauty of a single-minded, profit-seeking entrepreneurial partner. Marinov wasn't interested in Washington politics: he just wanted the money. But all he had so far was Wheelan's deposit – $18 million; nothing compared with his full asking price. He had waited seventeen months so far, and in a couple of days there would be a miracle: money would be tumbling out of the Washington sky. And as long as there were no leaks or catches, Thomas Wheelan's stock would be rising as fast as the black budget cash was falling on Marinov's head. He would check in at the ranch, kick the pills, and hit the ground running, heading straight up Pennsylvania Avenue.
CHAPTER 57
'NICE,' VIRGO SAID, CASTING an eye over the tan leather interior. The Lexus smelled new and luxurious.
The rain was hurling itself from the sky, obscuring the view through the windscreen and drumming insistently on the roof.
'It's just a rental.'
A conversational cul de sac. Virgo tried not to think about Rachel. And failed. His fingers ranged over the blanketcovered box of electronics on his lap. What was this about? Why had Rachel died?
At Heathrow, Genovsky had said Rachel would be sent home. She'd lied. But lying wasn't the surprise. The surprise was that he had walked away from her office. Why would she try to murder everyone who knew about a couple of missing computer disks but then just let him go?
They were on the Mass Pike, heading east towards the Expressway. As the roadway dipped into a tunnel under Massachusetts Avenue, the drumming of the rain halted. In the sudden quiet, he heard Born singing quietly along to a song on the radio, some soft soul number.
Born shot a glance at him. 'You know this song?'
Virgo shook his head.
'Ray Parker Junior. 1980. Arista records.' Born paused. 'Great song.' He smiled. 'I got laid to this record once.'
Was this guy for real? He listened to a few lines as Born carried on singing.
'Inside you and inside your mind? She fell for that?'
'Hey, in 1980 I was pretty cool. What were you, eight? Nine?'
'Older. Fourteen.'
'Yeah? Well I was nineteen, an undergraduate whiz-kid at Oxford, and well on the way to a glamorous career in research. I did OK with women.' They were coming up to the Expressway. Born hesitated, then switched lanes: I-93 North. 'Are you telling me physics didn't ever get you laid?'
'Didn't Ray Parker Junior do the Ghostbusters theme?'
Born laughed. 'OK, so he wasn't cool for long. Anyway, he was past his best by then.' He glanced across again. 'Come on – you never went to a party and told girls you were unlocking the secrets of the universe?'
Virgo stared through the windscreen. What had happened to Born? He seemed too positive, too excited.
'That line must have worn thin long before I got to use it,' Virgo said.
They lapsed into silence, and listened to the rain and the radio. The flashing lights of a plane appeared below the cloud, coming into Logan.
The city was darkening fast, and the streetlights blurred with the smears and drops on the car windows. The heavy traffic was a mess of washed-out tail lights. Eventually, Born broke the silence. 'Do you know why I agreed to do that interview with you?'
Virgo shifted in his seat. 'Because you were so pissed off at the university?'
'No. Well, yes. But mainly it was that article you did for Playboy. I meant to ask you about it, but never did. How did you get an article on physics into Playboy?'
Despite himself, Virgo laughed. 'It was the Polish edition. It's not like I was partying with Hugh Hefner.'
'No, but still . . .'
'Anyway, how did you get to see that?'
'Laszlo. Laszlo Gierek sent it to me. He thought it was hilarious.'
'He reads – read – Playboy?'
'I don't know if he read it, exactly, if you know what I mean. He had it sent from Warsaw. Reminded him of the old days back home, I suppose. Anyway, he thought I'd be interested to see physics in among the porn. And then you emailed me a couple of days later.'
'It was syndicated.'
'What?'
'Playboy bought the story from the Herald, translated it, and bunged it in. Did you see my picture on the contributors page?'
Born shook his head and laughed again. 'So you've had your picture in Playboy? That's fantastic. That, surely, must have got you laid?'
'I was already married by then.'
Born's smile evaporated. 'Of course.'
They fell silent again. They passed Exit 26: Storrow Drive and the Museum of Science.
'I nearly got married once.' Born said it softly, wistfully.
Virgo let it hang for a moment. 'What happened?'
'I chose physics. I just spent more and more time working, got obsessive – it was when I thought I was about to crack the quantum computer. You know, work out how to build one. In the end, she just walked away.'
'I saw the room. Upstairs in your house.' Virgo threw the phrase out as if it was a question.
Born grimaced. 'I could never bring myself to clear it out.'
'Are you still in touch?' Virgo already knew the answer.
'No.' Born's jaw tightened.
They drove on in silence for a couple of minutes before Born spoke again.
'She was a bookbinder. She liked pretty things, old things, stuff you could rub your fingers over, feel textures and smell. She chose that house – the cottage. I'd live in a gasworks, but she had to be absorbed by the things around her. They had to fill her senses.' His voice had faded further, melting into the insistent patter of the rain. 'I was too far away. She didn't stay long enough to redecorate, even. We bought the cottage because it had so much potential. Like me, she always said.'
Virgo hadn't been listening. 'I thought you cracked the quantum computer in one night? That's what everyone says.' Even before he'd finished speaking, he regretted the words; it was insensitive.
Born seemed not to notice. 'Yeah, I heard that too,' he snorted. 'I think it was the press office made that up, just before they decided to fleece me for everything.' He shifted his weight in the seat. 'You know, it didn't bother me that the machine was all my work and they were claiming rights over it. But I was really fucked up at the time, taking all kinds of pills. Becca had just walked out, and the university knew I was on a knife edge. I couldn't leave the house I was so messed up. Some kind of aggravated agoraphobia, the doctor said. And they kept on summoning me to meetings about this machine that had cost me my future. I just lost it and told them they couldn't have it. Told my lawyer to stop them at all costs.'
He leaned forward, into the steering wheel, stretching out his back.
'Becca was the love of my life. Stupid to let some machine get in the way of that.' He glanced across again. 'But you've got to understand what it's like to work on something like the quantum computer. I knew Becca was the one. But then there was the machine. You know, even now, if I had the chance to choose again I'm not sure what I'd do.'
They were heading out of the city, crossing Bunker Hill Bridge in the rain. The streetlights were further apart, and the landscape ahead was as dismal and grey as the sky above them. The traffic had thinned to a trickle now; they were leaving the city behind. It made him nervous. Why weren't they just going to the FBI, the police? If Born knew where the operation was, surely they could get the authorities to close it down?
He couldn't take the risk: who knew what Wheelan had set in motion? Virgo was wanted in connection with two murders. But maybe Wheelan didn't even know about him. Most likely, Genovsky had said everything was in order: that she had the disk. Everybody likes to look competent in front of their boss. And it wasn't worth him risking an
appearance on Wheelan's radar when he didn't know what it would do to Katie's chances. Someone had wanted him to walk away from all this – that was what Rachel's death was all about.
And it wasn't Genovsky, he was pretty sure of that. Most likely, it was Wheelan. No, he had to keep his head down.
Wheelan. He was assuming it now, like there was a proven link. Like it wasn't just his hunch, a wild stab in the dark. He needed to know more, but how? Did Born know anything? Virgo felt a buzzing in the back of his head, like he was missing something. Something to do with Born. And Rachel. Something that wasn't quite right.
'So, who is Genovsky?' Virgo said. He tried to keep his tone casual, as if they were discussing someone they'd bumped into in the street. 'Who does she work for?'
'I don't know much. When she made me that offer I told you about, she said it was a job where I could work how I liked – alone, with a hand-picked team, or whatever. I would have all the money I needed for equipment. The only catch was that it wouldn't be public domain: it was private enterprise and I couldn't publish. But she wouldn't say what the enterprise was – we never got that far. Like I said, Laszlo told me to walk away.'
Virgo turned in his seat. 'So you never wondered about it? You never gave it another moment's thought?'
Born glanced over at Virgo and shrugged. 'I did check her out a bit. I dug into her history. She was a NASA administrator a while back. But that's not how she started: they brought her over from Bulgaria as a high-level programmer – hey, shit.'
A huge truck rumbled past them, horn blaring. Its spray drowned the Lexus, and Born fought with the wipers to find a faster setting. 'My God, this country is scary. The size of that thing . . .' He shuffled his weight in the seat.
'What was I saying? Oh, yeah. Did you know the Bulgarians had the world's best programmers? Stalin made them responsible for developing computing for the entire Soviet bloc. In the long run, he did them a big favour – they had to do it on a shoestring budget and they got very good at innovative thinking. It's like the Russians with theoretical physics: it seems like it's in the blood, but really it's just the product of harsh expectations.' Born paused and glanced in his rearview mirror, then over again at Virgo. 'People are capable of anything, given the right threat.'
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