“Well, well,” said Fritz, patting Georg’s shoulder, “you’re a good boy. Continue in the path of obedience and I shall reveal wonders to you some day. We shall remake the world, nephew.”
Georg nodded, keeping his gaze subservient.
Fritz patted his mouth with a painfully white linen napkin and rose from his dinner. “For the time being, thanks to my father’s errors of judgment, it falls to me to rebuild the public face of Geneses. That is the first step toward our future, my boy.”
Georg tossed his own napkin casually over the remains of the beige fish and beige vegetable. His uncle might prefer plain, healthy food, but Georg was planning to fill up at KFC or McDonald’s after Fritz left.
“Do you know,” mused Uncle Fritz, “I think I’ll travel by helicopter. That should rattle the rabble. You’ll be all right on your own? Have you sufficient occupation for the long weekend?”
Georg kept his smile to himself. “Oh, yes, Uncle.”
Fritz nodded. “Good, good.” He seemed to be considering something, and then he spoke. “I’ve decided to leave your door unlocked while I am away. I trust you will not abuse my dependence in your good behavior? The building will remain in lock-down.”
Georg dipped his head in a bow. “I will not disappoint you, Uncle.”
A few moments later, Georg was escorted from Fritz’s office. His uncle made a point of securing the office door. Georg wished Fritz a pleasant journey and walked to his chamber. After twenty or so minutes, Georg felt a slight vibration humming through the walls of his room. The helicopter arrived and departed, rumbling off with his uncle, who would spend the long Columbus Day weekend in some dreary conference center in Fresno.
“Now, let’s have some fun,” Georg said to the quiet building.
16
TO THE VICTOR
The timing of Uncle Fritz’s absence could not have been better. The previous week Georg had independently tested and confirmed the contents of the enzyme treatment vials hidden in Uncle Fritz’s desk drawer; he knew what the enzyme was, and he knew where to steal more. He had also, if Uncle Fritz was to be believed, made his way through everything written by Helmann and his daughter Helga.
Thus, when Fritz announced he would depart, Georg was ready to leave his uncle for good. He had some regrets that he hadn’t determined exactly what Fritz was up to, but he reasoned he could always return to the building and observe his dear uncle at a later date.
If Georg was ready to leave Fritz, a good deal of that readiness had to do with Katrin, with the idea of her at his side. It seemed ludicrous that he’d contemplated life alone. Alone, his darker moments left him dangling from the cliff edge of madness; Katrin would be the belay, securing him from that drop into the abyss. He needed that second voice, that steadying companion, that shelter when his mind raged like an angry sea. And there she was: placed in his path for this purpose. Yes, he was ready.
After the helicopter departed, Georg kept busy all through the night, gathering digital copies of materials compiled by Helmann and Helga and even a few of Franz’s handwritten documents. He wasn’t sure what might prove useful. He had made a cursory and then a determined search for any records left by Dr. Pfeffer. Curiously, he could not find any. Uncle Fritz must have purged anything created by Pfeffer or hidden it very, very well. Georg’s mouth twisted with indecision. Should he make one more attempt to find things he might have overlooked?
No. He had gathered the research materials he needed. There were, however, a few last things he preferred to gather off-camera. And that meant paying a visit to the security office downstairs. He thought for a moment and decided to do that now, while the new security guard was still on duty.
“Good morning, sir,” said the hulking boy, Skandor Dusselhoff.
Georg tipped his head in acknowledgement. The boy had a look Georg didn’t trust. It was something in the way he looked at you turning only his eyes and not his head, mused Georg. That and the never-quite-absent tiny smile tugging at one side of his mouth. As if there were a joke only he was party to. As if he was about to stir up mischief.
“My uncle has asked me to make some mid-month checks to our systems.” Georg made a noticeable effort to check his watch. “It’s 6:43. You may leave. I’ll clock you out at 7:00.”
The young guard’s dark brows drew together. “I wasn’t notified of the need for mid-month checks—”
“Yes, well you wouldn’t be. It’s not something that requires your approval. Or your presence.” Georg gave what he thought of as an imposing stare. It was somewhat marred by the twitch in his left eye.
Dusselhoff seemed to consider Georg’s words, Georg’s position within the company, and then he nodded. “You got it, sir.”
Dusselhoff turned away and exited the building’s large glass doors. Georg watched him until he’d passed out of sight, and then he disabled all the video monitors on the tenth floor. It was time to retrieve Katrin.
A phrase danced through his mind: to the victor belong the spoils. There hadn’t been a battle, per se, but to leave his uncle was a sort of victory. The sort of victory wily Greek heroes pulled off in the stories, stealing treasure—and concubines—as they fled. A thrill ran through Georg. Katrin was only his half-sister, after all. To the victor, indeed. Georg smiled and cloaked himself in darkness.
17
THE ART OF THE SARCASTIC REPLY
It irked Georg that Katrin would not leave without her foster sister Hanna. All of Georg’s old possessive feelings regarding Katrin were returning now; he didn’t want to share her with Hanna any more than he had wanted to share her with Martina. It was to be just the two of them, embarking together on Georg’s brave plans to change the course of human history, to channel human evolution in the direction in which it ought by rights to flow.
Georg didn’t see the trembling Hanna as forming a part of his ideal future. Nonetheless, he could only secure Katrin’s cooperation if he also helped Hanna. He entered the chamber where Hanna was kept and brought her into solid form. Her dark eyelashes covered darkened bruises below her eyes. Georg recognized the signs of Paucher disease. Even though she’d been placed in a suspended state, her body was already crying out for the enzyme it could not produce on its own.
As he prepped her arm to receive the enzyme treatment, Georg felt something like pity. He remembered all too well the pain of returning into his physical form the handful of times he and Hansel had come solid to research their condition.
Georg had known his uncle was lying about the injection he’d given Hanna six weeks earlier. If her body had begun showing signs of Paucher disease, Fritz must have brought Hanna solid often since then. Georg would offer to set Hanna up with a large sum of money somewhere sunny. He felt magnanimous as he laid his plans, and Georg liked feeling magnanimous. He was certain he could convince Katrin.
Today, of all days, it wouldn’t do to present a sickly Hanna to Katrin. Georg waited in the room for half an hour, observing Hanna’s slumbering body as it responded to the treatment. When the bruised color beneath her eyes had begun to lighten, he decided it was time to awaken her and present her to Katrin.
“Svegliati,” he murmured.
Her eyes remained closed, her breathing slow and shallow. That was … unexpected.
“Svegliati,” he said, much louder this time.
Still, Hanna remained under the hypnotic spell. Georg placed his hands on his hips and stared at her, willing her to awaken. He repeated the Italian command half a dozen times before finally admitting it wasn’t working. Had Hanna been injected with something that countered her body’s ability to rouse itself?
No, surely not. The fact that her condition had degraded meant she had spent a non-trivial part of the past six weeks in solid form. Fritz had been in this room, and he would have had to awaken her to do whatever testing he’d been doing.
So why wouldn’t she wake up?
Georg swore loudly and kicked the floor.
Hanna slumbered on, heedless of Georg’s tantrum.
Would Katrin know the word or phrase that would awaken her foster sister? She might; Fritz had uttered the word out of her hearing the last time Georg had been present, but that didn’t mean Uncle Fritz was always so careful. After all, Georg had learned the first phrase simply by being in the room at the opportune moment.
Placing his arms around Hanna, Georg vanished with the girl, taking her into Katrin’s room. Perhaps the sight of Hanna, slumbering in her hypnotic state, would jog something loose in Katrin’s memory. If any of this was going to work, Georg needed that word.
Seconds later, he re-solidified inside Katrin’s chamber and placed Hanna on the floor, prone and sleeping. Next, he repeated the process of bringing Katrin solid. For a brief moment, it occurred to him that his uncle might have changed all the passwords. Maybe this was something Fritz did with regularity. His heart beat like a hummingbird’s as he spoke the word to awaken Katrin: Svegliati!
It worked. Katrin’s eyes fluttered open. “Oh,” she said. “You?”
“You’re surprised to see me again?” asked Georg.
“No, I’ve been sleeping here expecting to see you the next time I came solid.”
Katrin had perfected the art of the sarcastic reply years before the rest of the children had begun to try. How angry it had made him at the time, that quick wit of hers.
“Well, I’m here,” said Georg.
“Oh my goodness!” said Katrin, noticing Hanna. Katrin sat up and rushed to her foster sister’s side.
“Yes, I brought Hanna as well. I didn’t think you’d leave without her.”
“Leave? With you?”
“Yes, obviously.”
“I see.” Her brows knit together as though she had something else to say, giving Georg the distinct impression she might not be so easily persuaded to do as he wished. But instead of discussing the matter, Katrin knelt beside Hanna.
“Why is she sleeping?” Katrin asked.
“Because the password that works on you doesn’t work on Hanna,” said Georg, He didn’t trouble to hide his feelings of exasperation as he spoke.
“Of course,” said Katrin, frustration coloring her tone as well. “Why would Fritz do anything in a simple and straightforward way? Ugh! He’s as bad as Aunt Helga was.”
Georg grunted in agreement.
“But you’re telling me you’re ready to leave?” continued Katrin.
“I have the enzyme—enough for a lifetime—” This was an exaggeration; he didn’t have it, he only knew how to acquire it. But if he said that, Katrin would ask what the enzyme was and Georg wanted to keep that information to himself in case Katrin should need … persuasion to remain with him at some point.
“What about our uncle?” asked Katrin.
“He’s gone for two days.”
“No, I didn’t mean where he is. I meant, have you discovered what he’s been plotting?”
Georg felt his face grow warm. “No.”
“I asked you—” Katrin cut herself off with a heavy sigh. “Oh, never mind. I’m not going anywhere with Hanna like that. She’s stuck, Georg. I’m not going anywhere until we figure out the word that awakens her.”
“Figure out? Figure out?” Georg threw his arms wildly to the side. “You can’t be serious,” he said. “I’ve done what you asked. I got the medicine, I brought Hanna to you. Uncle Fritz is gone, and who knows when we’ll have another opportunity like this?”
“Shouting at me won’t change my mind,” said Katrin, her tone icy. She spoke with absolute authority, her expression regal. How well he remembered that look.
“Before we can think of escaping,” continued Katrin, “we have to find out what the password is for Hanna. And for Michel and Leopold as well.”
“Michel and Leopold?”
“My foster brothers. You didn’t think I’d go and leave them here to the tender mercies of our Uncle Fritzi, did you?” Katrin regarded him with a look bordering on disgust.
Georg turned from Katrin, scowling. He hadn’t considered she would want all her siblings set free. What if they each had a separate password?
“It might take months for me to learn the words that will awaken them. Months, Katrin. How long do any of you have here with Fritz?”
“I don’t know, so you’d better figure it out quickly. I’m not leaving them behind to suffer the wrath of Fritz Gottlieb. How could you think I would do that, knowing him as you do?” She crossed her arms. “Honestly, Georg, I shouldn’t have to remind you what Fritz is like.”
Georg swore. He knew exactly what his uncle was like. But he’d seriously failed to understand what Katrin was like. Staring at Hanna, stretched out on the floor of the room as though she were without a care in the world, Georg cursed under his breath.
“Listen,” said Katrin. “You should have an opportunity to learn the passwords soon. Uncle Fritz said he’s planning to do something to the boys. Maybe the same thing he did to Hanna—the thing that stopped her from being able to vanish.”
“I don’t want to wait,” said Georg. “I’m ready to leave now. I need to leave now. Uncle Fritz might figure out I’m planning to betray him if I stay longer. He returns in less than thirty-six hours.”
“Maybe the boys know one another’s passwords,” mused Katrin.
“Well, that doesn’t matter, seeing as they’re asleep,” snapped Georg.
He turned away. He shouldn’t lose his temper at Katrin. She was already more interested in staying with her foster family than in joining him. He couldn’t afford to antagonize her further.
Or maybe … maybe he should stop trying so hard to gain her approval. Maybe he should just … take her. Now. Eventually she would forgive him, surely. He turned back to face her.
Katrin was bending over Hanna.
She wouldn’t see him coming. He could utter the words that would make her sleep and be gone with her in an instant. He shifted toward her, his breath stirring a few of the red-gold hairs flowing over her shoulders.
Katrin wrapped one of her hands around Hanna’s still fingers.
He could do it. He could.
Katrin sighed softly, squeezing Hanna’s hand.
And that sigh decided everything. Katrin wouldn’t forgive him if he left Hanna behind. He pulled away and composed himself.
“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” he said, softly. “It’s just….”
“I know,” said Katrin. “It’s maddening. It’s unfair. Why couldn’t Fritz have died along with Franz and Pfeffer and—”
Georg drew in a sudden breath. “That’s it!”
Katrin regarded him with her brows drawn together. “What?”
“What you just said—they aren’t all dead. Uncle Pfeffer survived.”
“I thought you said they all perished—”
“Pfeffer betrayed Helmann and the others,” said Georg. “Pfeffer was playing his own game and obtained the original passwords. It’s how I was awakened, along with the others in my cadre.”
“You weren’t awakened by Helmann?”
“No. It was Pfeffer and Waldhart de Rochefort who awakened the five of us. We were in Montpellier, France. Our cadre was never activated by Helmann.”
“So you didn’t participate in the … inoculation program?” Katrin asked softly.
Georg shook his head. And then understanding dawned. “But you did,” he said.
Katrin had paled, visibly. And then, not because he was horrified by the fact she’d assisted in murdering others, but because he knew she would appreciate it, he murmured, “How terrible for you.”
“It was awful,” she said. “We treated them, and they died anyway. Because we treated them.”
“I’m very sorry,” said Georg. He forced himself to wait before turning the topic to the new one that was burning—burning—inside his brain.
Katrin gave her head a little shake and returned her gaze to Hanna’s sleeping form.
“Listen,” Georg said, unable to wait any longer, “what do you say we visit Uncle Pfef
fer—he lives nearby—and tell him about Hanna and … what did you say the boys are called?”
“Leopold and Michel.”
“Well, if we told Pfeffer, he could use the original passwords and awaken your foster siblings.” Georg smiled triumphantly. “What do you say?”
“Uncle Pfeffer would do this for you?” asked Katrin.
Georg’s smile faded and he felt his neck flushing with heat. He had not exactly left their relationship in an optimal state. Last time they’d met, Pfeffer had seen Georg with a gun aimed at a child; the time before that, Georg had shot Pfeffer with Fritz’s converted dart gun. He licked his lips, hesitating. At last he spoke.
“If you were there, I think Pfeffer would agree to help,” he said. “Pfeffer and I didn’t part friends, but I think, if you were there—”
Katrin shook her head. “I don’t leave. Not without them.”
“But, Katrin—”
“No,” she said. “If Fritz isn’t returning for another day, you have plenty of time to bring Pfeffer here so we can all leave together.”
“Pfeffer might prove … hard to find.” Georg didn’t say what he was really thinking: hard to persuade.
“All the more reason for me to stay,” insisted Katrin. She threw her hands in the air. “If Fritz returns and you and I are gone, what chance does Hanna stand?” She stared Georg down.
A heavy sigh escaped Georg. “Okay. I’ll find Pfeffer and ask him to come here.”
Katrin sighed as well, gazing at Hanna. “Thank you.”
“You’d better write a letter,” said Georg. “As proof you’re still alive. Put something in there that proves you are, well, you.” Georg hesitated, and then he added, “I think Pfeffer might know how to contact Martina.”
“I thought you said you didn’t know if she was alive,” Katrin whispered, bringing her hand to cover her mouth.
“I know what I said. But … well … I think she’s with Pfeffer. I just didn’t want to raise false hopes.”
Katrin’s eyebrows drew close and her eyes narrowed.
“Write the letter to Martina,” Georg said.
Knavery: A Ripple Novel (Ripple Series Book 6) Page 12
