Pressure

by Brian Keene

  “Are you, really?”

  “Of course,” she admitted. “Paolo, I still care about you. I don’t think I could ever stop caring about you. I just wish you weren’t such a goddamn asshole.”

  “I … I wish I wasn’t, as well.”

  They were each given a private room, as well as clothing and toiletries. In some ways, it felt like they were vacationers checking into a hotel, rather than fugitives on the run from a criminal corporation. Mostly this was due to the allegations they’d brought forth, but Carrie’s minor celebrity status certainly didn’t hurt. It turned out that many amongst the embassy staff were admirers of hers. One even claimed to have met her years ago at a book signing in Melbourne, when she’d been on a publicity tour for her memoir.

  After they were settled, the three of them met up again in Carrie’s room.

  “I’m going to shower and change,” she said, “and then, while we wait for the embassy to confirm our story, I have to meet up with Jessamine to go over the details of Alpinus’s malfeasance. I want to make sure she has everything, just in case. Did you guys want to join us?”

  “I’m going to head down to the lounge,” Abhi replied. “I’m too wound up to sleep. Those guys from the network, Hank and Khem, invited me to play cards with them. Hopefully, there are some free drinks in it, as well. My stomach feels like I drank battery acid. I need something to set it right again.”

  “Just be careful you don’t get drunk,” Carrie warned.

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  Carrie smiled. “I just mean, be mindful that they work for the media. Loose lips sink ships.”

  “No,” Abhi said, “weird, pissed-off sea monsters sink ships. But don’t worry. I won’t reveal anything more than what you’ve already told Jessamine.”

  “Perfect.” Carrie turned to Paolo. “What about you?”

  He shook his head. “I’m still exhausted, and my face really hurts. So does my ankle, for that matter. I think I’m just going to go back to my room and sleep.”

  “Okay,” Carrie replied, “but … we need to talk at some point…”

  “Agreed. But I need to sleep first. Fair enough?”

  Carrie nodded. “Fair enough.”

  “Okay,” Paolo said, “then I will see both of you later. I’m off to bed.”

  * * *

  Paolo shut the door to his suite and locked it. He sighed, staring at the queen-sized bed with overstuffed pillows and crisp, clean sheets. More than anything, he wanted to collapse upon it, press himself into the mattress, and just sleep. Blissful, peaceful, comforting sleep. Never had something looked more inviting than the bed did right now.

  Unfortunately, it would have to wait.

  His lip throbbed in time with his pulse, and his leg ached from all the walking he’d done over the last few hours. The flesh around the stitches felt hot and tight. He dry swallowed a few pills to help manage the pain, grimacing at the chemical taste as they slid down his throat. That just made his lip hurt more. He paused, waiting for the pain to subside. When it did, he took a deep breath.

  “Okay,” he muttered. “Let’s have a look.”

  Paolo walked around the room, meticulously checking every corner and cranny. He peered under and behind furniture and inside drawers. He pulled back the curtains and studied the windows. Standing on a chair, he examined the smoke detector and fire sprinklers. He investigated the electrical outlets and appliances, and rapped on the walls at certain intervals. He even stripped the linens from the bed and looked over the mattress and pillows. Then he did the same in the suite’s adjoining bathroom, checking every inch of the space, including the vent in the ceiling and inside the toilet tank.

  When he was finished, although he couldn’t be one hundred percent certain the room wasn’t under surveillance, Paolo felt secure enough to open the top dresser drawer and remove his hospital gown, which had been balled up and placed inside the dresser when he’d changed clothes earlier. Then he carried the gown into the bathroom and shut the door. He turned on the exhaust fan for noise. Finally, as an afterthought, he turned the spigot on the sink, confident that the running water would provide some additional shielding.

  Paolo sat the soiled robe down on the counter and slowly unfolded it. Inside was a sealed plastic freezer bag, covered with tattered duct tape. Stuck on the tape’s adhesive was a tangle of black hairs. The hairs were his, ripped from his chest when he’d pulled it off while changing. His skin was still red and irritated from where the bag had been taped to his chest all night. Paolo had affixed it just moments before Abhi, during his delusional rescue attempt, had burst into his hospital room at the Alpinus facility. Thank God he had also heard the commotion in the hallway between Dr. Barbet and Ochse, and Carrie and Abhi’s subsequent conversation.

  He’d panicked when they reached the embassy, unsure of how he’d get the bag and its precious cargo past security. He was beyond relieved when his gambit of faking a fainting spell had worked. Paolo had been certain that it wouldn’t work but he couldn’t think of another option. When they’d gotten him to the infirmary, the soldiers had left him unattended for a few minutes, lying on the gurney behind some closed curtains. He’d ripped the bag free, biting down on his burst-and-bleeding lip as the duct tape tore his chest hair from his pores. He’d been looking around for a place to hide it when a nurse walked in. Paolo had frozen, terrified that he’d been caught, but the nurse, obviously assuming the bag had already made it through the security screening, had simply offered him a drawer to put his belongings in.

  Paolo chuckled to himself now, remembering. His first instinct had been to snap the woman’s neck and make a run for it. It had taken him a moment to realize that she suspected nothing out of the ordinary.

  He winced in pain. Laughing made his lip hurt. Focusing again, he turned his attention to the task at hand.

  Inside the bag were two portable hard drives and a small phone. Paolo unzipped the bag, and removed the latter. Then he turned it on, and was relieved to see that it still had plenty of battery life left. That might be a problem later, given that the charger was still back at the Alpinus facility. The phone, according to his employer, was surveillance-proof—scrambled, encrypted, invisible from traffic analysis and network monitoring, unable to be tracked or listened in on by any third party.

  Paolo caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror. He didn’t like what he saw. Split lip and the abrasions on his forehead aside, he still looked like shit. His complexion was still pale and dark circles remained under his eyes. He looked as tired and haggard as he felt. Some of that was due to the after-effects of the toxin. But the rest …

  Well, if it wasn’t something money couldn’t cure, he didn’t know what could. And soon he would have all the money he’d ever need.

  The mirror began to fog over with steam from the hot water flowing out of the tap. That was good. It added yet another layer of protection, in case there were any hidden cameras in the bathroom that he’d been unable to detect.

  Paolo dialed a phone number from memory. He didn’t pause to calculate the time difference. Regardless of the hour, the person he was calling—William Bevill, the head of Alpinus Biofutures Research and Development—would answer. He was always available to receive calls from this particular phone.

  Paolo was all too aware of what a dangerous position he was in now. He’d been secretly spying on Carrie and the entire operation for Alpinus to make sure they didn’t discover the man-made nature of the catastrophe. Getting attacked by the creature hadn’t been part of the plan, but then again, discovering the egg hadn’t been either. The fact that the creatures were breeding had been unanticipated. He’d gambled that his employer would want all of the data related to that unexpected development, and it was a gamble that had paid off. His only mistake had been in assuming he wasn’t expendable. After learning that, he’d decided to let Carrie and Abhi see a few of his cards. But he hadn’t been foolish enough to tell them everything, nor had he revealed every
thing to Alpinus. Recognizing what a peculiarly profitable position he’d now found himself in, Paolo saw little benefit in solely aligning himself with either side of this marine arms race. Now, like a good mole, he intended to report in as though his past days at death’s door hadn’t changed his relationship with his employer.

  The phone was answered on the third ring.

  “Yes?”

  Bevill sounded breathless. Paolo wondered what activity he had interrupted.

  “It’s me,” Paolo said.

  “So it is. Where are you right now?”

  “I’d rather not say. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Of course, of course. Though, I have to admit, I’m surprised to hear from you. We still don’t have a complete handle on what exactly has happened in the last few hours. Perhaps you can fill in some of the blanks for me?”

  “Your men were sloppy. Two of the loose ends found out, and escaped. They’re with me now.”

  “Escaped?”

  “That’s correct. But as I said, they are currently with me.”

  “I don’t understand. Could you elaborate a bit more? How did this happen? Do you have any idea what tipped them off?”

  “Yes,” Paolo replied. “As I said, it was a breakdown of operational discipline. Your men lacked the necessary discretion at a time when it mattered most.”

  “I see.”

  “Oh, you see? Well, I’m glad that you see. But I’m even gladder that I saw. Otherwise, I think we both know that I wouldn’t be talking to you right now. I wouldn’t be talking to anyone. I’d be another scientific curiosity—an experiment gone wrong.”

  “Listen, about that…” Bevill sighed. His tone turned conciliatory. “You need to understand, your situation, while precarious, was unprecedented. We didn’t know what would happen to you, but given your dire medical prognosis at the time, we had a scientific obligation to follow through and learn whatever we could about your condition.”

  Paolo laughed. “So, it wasn’t personal?”

  “Absolutely. I assure you it was not. It was purely scientific. We had to make the most of things, given the situation. Remember, we didn’t expect you to recover.”

  “But I did recover.” Paolo was careful not to sound too forgiving, lest he show his hand.

  “Indeed, you did. And I am very grateful for that.”

  “As am I. And let me be clear—I expect to be well compensated for the medical limbo your people left me in.”

  Bevill paused. “I think something can be arranged. What figure did you have in mind?”

  “You tell me. I’ll decide if it’s fair enough.”

  “I’m sure we can reach an agreement. However, before we do that, there are still other matters to attend to. I still don’t have a clear picture as to what happened at the facility. I gave orders to bring everything to a conclusion. The lead agent was to transmit all of the current data, prepare the remains for shipment, and handle any outstanding … obligations.”

  “Yes, I know,” Paolo reminded him. “I was one of those obligations.”

  Bevill ignored this. “Several hours ago, the lead agent communicated that there had been a major security breach, and they were taking steps to contain everything. We’ve heard nothing since, and he never transmitted the final, conclusive report. We still need that data. It’s absolutely essential. So, perhaps you understand why I’d be very grateful if you could fill in the blanks. What happened?”

  “The lead agent didn’t transmit the report because he was locked in the back of a delivery truck. Given that you have since spoken to him, I have to assume he got out, and took countermeasures to make sure your company wasn’t implicated in anything. As far as I know, he still has the biological specimens, but as for the data? I have that now.”

  “Say again?”

  “The data is in my possession. I extracted all of it earlier yesterday, when I first noticed your operational procedures going into effect. When the private contractors began disappearing, it wasn’t hard to figure out just what was going on. So I acted.”

  “I see. And just how were you able to obtain all of that data without being caught?”

  Paolo laughed, ignoring the pain it caused. “You really should have assigned more personnel to that facility, overall. They were so distracted and spread thin dealing with the freelancers and the staff, that they never noticed me slipping out of my room. As I said, they were sloppy.”

  “So, you have all the data? Everything?”

  “That’s correct. I stored it on two hard drives. I have them in my hands right now.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you now? Then I can assume you also see just how valuable I am to you.”

  “I think we can agree to double your compensation to account for the, uh, unanticipated biological data you are able to provide for us.”

  “That is fair,” Paolo replied, “but there is still the matter of the past few days. You agreed earlier that I should be compensated for that, as well.”

  Bevill paused longer this time. When he spoke again, he sounded tired.

  “Yes, of course. I’m sure I can get approval for another fifty thousand to cover your … medical costs.”

  “Fifty thousand? That’s not at all satisfactory.”

  “Well, what would be satisfactory?”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of triple my original compensation.”

  “Triple? Now, see here!”

  “Given the sensitive nature of things, it’s a small price to pay to ensure this data doesn’t fall into the wrong hands—especially, the hands of one of your competitors … well, I think we both know what that might lead to.”

  “Fine. Enough. Agreed.”

  “Excellent.” Paolo smiled. “I was hoping you’d see things my way.”

  “So, when can you deliver?”

  “I’ll be in touch to set a time and place for the hand off.”

  “Understand something,” Bevill said. “While we still have the specimens under our control, that hand off has to include everything else…”

  “The hard drives are yours.”

  “And the other two factors, as well. Those two loose ends that are with you? They’ll still have to be neutralized.”

  Steam rose from the sink. Paolo stared at the condensation on the bathroom mirror, and thought of Carrie and Abhi. In the fog, it was almost easy to pretend that his reflection belonged to someone other than himself. He reached out and touched the glass, leaving his handprint behind. The moisture felt cool on his hand. The running water and the thrum of the exhaust fan both suddenly seemed very loud. With his index finger, Paolo slowly traced a smiley face in the condensation.

  “Are you still there?” Bevill asked. “I need you to understand—there’s no deal unless we have all three. That is non-negotiable.”

  “Relax,” Paolo replied, finishing his drawing. “They’ll be delivered with the hard drives. I guarantee it.”

  * * *

  Later that day, a representative from the embassy staff called for a meeting with Carrie, Abhi, Paolo, Jessamine, Hank, and Khem. They were led into a dark, secluded conference room deep inside the building. Two men were already seated at the large table. They stood up when the others entered. One introduced himself as Brett McBean, the Australian ambassador, and shook each of their hands, in turn. The other introduced himself as Mr. Brown, a member of Australia’s Secret Intelligence Service.

  Carrie thought it was strange that the ambassador had introduced himself by his full name, but the intelligence agent had only given his last name.

  Brown verified that two soldiers were positioned outside the door before he closed it. McBean, meanwhile, directed them to a small buffet, which had been set up in the corner, with crystal pitchers of water and juice, a pot of coffee, hot water and tea bags, and a row of silver platters heaped with a variety of fruits, vegetables, finger sandwiches, and hors d’oeuvres. Abhi and Hank helped themselves to the food, but nobody else partook. Before t
he meeting started, the two men looked up from their plates, noticed that no one else was eating, and then shrugged sheepishly at each other.

  “Miss Wheatley,” McBean began, after they were all settled, “I have to insist that this conversation be strictly off the record. Is that acceptable to you and your crew?”

  “Everything, or just what you and Mr. Brown say?”

  “Mr. Brown and I can only speak on behalf of the Australian government. What is said in this room during this meeting is off the record. If anyone would like to repeat it to you elsewhere, well, that would be up to them.”

  “Then yes,” Jessamine replied. “Of course.”

  “Very good. Well then, it is our position that the Australian government owes each of you safety, and I’m happy to report that we are approving your request for asylum.”

  “Even though not all of us are Australian citizens?” Carrie asked.

  “Of course, Miss Anderson. At this point, your nationality is no longer important. You are, after all, whistleblowers to a major crime being perpetrated on the Indian Ocean. Granted, it is occurring in Mauritian waters, rather than our own, but given the current social uncertainty and upheaval here, we feel that our government is better positioned to respond to this. Mauritius has its hands full, to say the least. They don’t have the resources to tackle this. Not to mention that these allegations, if true, will potentially impact our country, as well. It has become an Australian problem.”

  “However,” Brown added, “you have to understand that this is a short-term arrangement. While our initial intelligence lends some credibility to your story—satellite imaging of the trench, for example, which confirms the widespread hypoxia—we still need proof of these allegations regarding Alpinus Biofutures’ involvement in the collapse. Without that, the asylum grant will be reversed.”

  “Did you check out the facility here on the island?” Carrie asked. “All the proof you need should be there.”

  “We did investigate it,” Brown confirmed, “but first responders got there before us.”

  “First responders?” Jessamine asked.

  Brown nodded. “The clinic burned to the ground early this morning. It is estimated that the fire started around the time you got here. We found no one inside, and recovered nothing of any intelligence value so far. The ruins are still too hot to comb through, but our chances of salvaging anything useful appear to be slim indeed. Apparently, the blaze was aggressive. There is very little left standing. It was almost certainly arson, and expertly conducted, but that’s all we know.”