“Go to Pascal for money?” said Isaac, frowning. “Believe me, I tried several times. He always refused and the last time I hated him for it. I went to borrow money for Vicky’s surgery. He still has our photos together standing around the place, plenty of them. He is sort of fond of me and he remembers Vicky well, but he didn’t give me a dime.
“Or rather, he promised he would if his administrator told him to. His administrator, though quite a decent woman, explained that the contract with UNICOMA has a clause that specifically prohibits lending or giving away money that belongs to a Veggie.
“They’ve got themselves a really smart set-up. COMA has its own bank, and it has probably been the most powerful bank in the world for a long time. They pump money from account to account, and in reality, hardly any money gets spent at all. All the large fees paid out to the Veggies just lie there unused. The way the Swiss banks once quietly buried the money of many Jews. The Veggies sign a contract, and afterwards, with rare exceptions, they don’t spend anything much. Pascal said that if it wasn’t allowed, there was nothing he could do. I tried to explain to him that the administrator wasn’t allowed to do it, but he was. I even said I’d pay it back with interest. And this asshole asked: ‘Why would I want interest?’
“It’s like they’ve erased his conscience. And you wouldn’t believe it, but he can laugh at the jokes in a TV show and watch a movie. He is a gung ho soccer player. Only he doesn’t have jokes of his own any more, just enough brains to go ask his nanny, as I call her, to do anything he cannot handle himself.
“It’s ludicrous, but he has some really good gear at home, all these latest computers and gadgets. And it all gets replaced regularly. He stipulated in the contact that it would all be the very latest models. Before he downloaded, he said his girl Eva deserved the very best, and he was going to do everything to make sure they had that. Only Eva took off, and the gear is still there. He doesn’t even switch it on now. And he doesn’t have the wits to stop them from delivering new stuff.
“He watches TV all the time, plays sports in the evening, when his nanny tells him to. Eats simple food and is a vegetarian now. That’s in the contract too. He has everything he needs and he is happy with everything.”
“A kind of happy bus driver. Riding along the same route all day and delighting in life.”
“At first I tried so many times to shake him out of it. Looked through our school photo albums with him, remembered adventures we had together. He remembers everything. ‘Those were great times,’ he says. ‘I’ve changed now,’ he says, ‘and I like different things.’
“I hate the stinking COMA. And I started hating Pascal too. We were like brothers, and Vicky was like a sister to both of us. I trusted him like I trust myself. And his indifference now is like a knife in my heart.
“A long, long time ago, when we were students, there was this incident when we went swimming in a storm, and he started drowning. I dragged him out. I would never dreamt of deriding him for it, but I did remind him about that incident when I asked for the money for Vicky. And he still refused. I hate him for it. Veggie or not, downloading his energy was his own decision and he basically told us all to go to hell.”
“So you’ve succeeded in making me waste several minutes of my life on listening about this worthless idiot.” Bikie responded, but the sympathy in his voice was clear.
“Losing creativity made him like that, and when the professor pumps his OE back, who knows what will happen?”
“That professor has some brain!” said Bikie, changing the subject. “He really radiates charisma. He seems like an ordinary middle aged guy who’s getting on a bit, with this strange expression on his face. Drinks his coffee, puffs on his cigar. But when you think of that juggernaut he blitzed us all with, it’s terrifying!”
Isaac understood what he meant. It always feels a bit strange when someone you have only known by reputation simply talks to you, accepts you as being no fool, someone worth talking to, even working with. Especially such a behemoth of science! Associating with someone like that sets you on the next step up in your life. You are not the old you any longer, you are new, updated, on a different level.
It’s especially flattering if that person is a genius who has made his mark in the history of mankind. The name Jeremy Link was inscribed in the annals of the age to which he belonged. The generations to come would undoubtedly venerate his greatness, study his life in school, and name streets, buildings and stars after him. He was a living legend who had put the world on its head. Isaac’s head started to spin at the thought of Link becoming a member of his team. Just imagine!
After driving the van onto the ferry, the pair went to the upper deck to watch the boat sail off. The engines hummed, the water seethed and the ferry pulled away from the shore. Ciao, Sardinia! A few hours later they reached the mainland, then drove quickly through the center of Genoa and out onto the autostrada.
Bikie expressed his feelings about what had happened on the island in his own way, converting his euphoria into the speed with which he drove the van. His facetious comments became far coarser too.
Isaac sank back into thoughts about Pascal and what he wanted from him. On the one hand, it was clear, to see the old friend he loved. On the other, to tell him about everything. Of his resentment. Of course, Pascal had been locked in a brain jail. But Vicky! How could he be so unconcerned about her life?
Another question was what he would be like after all this. What if he didn’t give a damn about their idea? Or he might say: “What have you done, you dorks, I was so happy! What have you dragged me into without even asking?”
And what if he died as a result of the experiment? Or became a total idiot, not even a Happy? Isaac tried to drive these thoughts away. God was on their side, as they say. There was no reason things should go wrong.
Somehow he did not believe that Pascal would tell them to go to hell. He downloaded his creativity for Eva’s sake and now he lost her. Surely that was a reason to hate COMA.
Isaac had started to hate Pascal, and maybe Pascal had already changed a long time ago. What made Isaac think his friend would be the same great guy as before? What would he say when he discovered that they had risked his life for the sake of an idea?
Maybe they should shoot a video of the way he looked and behaved when he was a Veggie? Yes, they definitely ought to do that. Let him get an eyeful of that.
The doubts tormented Isaac so badly that he was even afraid to share them with Bikie. He would only twist everything again.
“Bikie, have you ever had any real friends?” Isaac asked, coming at things indirectly.
“I had one. Even two.”
“And where are they now?”
“One went away to California. His parents moved there. We were teenagers back then. We stayed friends until twenty-one. We used to race our mopeds like crazy.”
“And the other one?”
“The other one turned out to be a scumbag.”
“How come?”
“I thought he was my friend. But apparently he was not. David Suleiman. I trusted him, and he used my trust to rob me. Turned out to be a bastard. When I was restoring my Harley, he offered to buy some spare parts for me. Said it was interesting to see how to make a super-stylish bike out of an old frame and a heap of metal. And then I found out he had been ripping me off big-time on the parts. Bastard. Some friend. Like they say, with friends like that, who needs enemies? I would have smashed his head in, but he didn’t cross my path for a long time, and I cooled off. Screw him, I reckon it’s bad for your karma to touch filthy scum.”
“I see. I’ve only had Pascal. And to be honest, it’s really bothering me right now. We’re putting his life on the line. It’s not like a friendly thing to do.”
Isaac started telling Bikie again about their friendship, how they had fun and fought shoulder to shoulder. He got so carried away that Bikie started getting angry.
“How come you guys didn’t get married, if you loved each
other so much?”
“Drop it, Bikie,” said Isaac, catching the note of jealousy. “He was a great guy and you would like him”
“I doubt it, you make him sound so perfect, and it’s sickening.”
“Not perfect, just my best friend. He was,” Isaac added, after a moment’s thought. “Until he became a Veggie.”
“I don’t give a shit. Right now we need him for business.”
“Bikie, I’ll tell you honestly, I don’t know what he’ll be like after being a Veggie. He might even go running to the police. He’s so straight and proper now. We can’t imagine what changes have taken place in his brain these last few years.”
“Then I’ll definitely smash his head in.”
Isaac stopped talking and didn’t bring the subject up again: Bikie was too crabby. But the thoughts about Pascal didn’t go away. Bikie was clearly also musing on the possible consequences, but neither he nor Isaac wanted to discuss them.
“And another point. I didn’t want to mention it in front of Link, and then it slipped my mind. I got a call from the police about that old incident. Some commissioner who emphatically requested me to contact him when I get home.”
“You were right not to tell Link. The old fogey would have shit himself. What was it they wanted?”
“I don’t know, nothing special. Just, call us when you get here.”
“Well, that doesn’t mean a thing. Why would they scare you ahead of time? What have they got on you?”
Isaac related the events of that day blow by blow, recalling all the details he could.
“So no one knows the board’s decision went your way?”
“Nope. That crazy Elvis-guy isn’t likely to have told anyone. Again, in their eyes he’s just an ordinary madman.”
“OK, I’ll think about it. So far I don’t see any problems, to be honest. I was surprised how easy it was to copy the lists onto the computer. Usually information like that is kept on the server or in the cloud. The guy in the office who copied it onto his computer is a common idiot. He either won’t remember what was there, or just to be on the safe side he won’t admit he kept the lists on his own machine instead of on a protected server. I found all sorts of other trash on that card, terabytes of files and folders. The absolute mess some folks have on their computers is worse than the history of the Middle Ages.”
The next half hour they drove in silence and Isaac fell asleep. After a few kilometers, Bikie shook him awake and they swapped places. Isaac took the wheel and struck up a conversation.
“What kind of world do you want to live in?”
“You keep going on about the world, the world. Why don’t you think about chicks instead? Or about how to sell your invention for more dough? If you have money for drinking and eating, you can live in a world of dreams if you like, or in Hollywood, or set up Hollywood at your villa, like Wolanski. You and I don’t have any money, we have different concerns, but we can live in a world full of struggle and adventures. For a good job, for a girl, for our own thoughts and ideas. Or you can become an ordinary nine-to-five guy, living on a schedule like a robot. But then what’s the point?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Richard Bach has this book called Running from Safety. At fifty-nine, Bach mystically meets himself, at the age of nine, and they spend time together. The boy takes him to task very strictly for the life he’s lived: What have you achieved, have you stuck to your principles, what wishes have you realized and, most importantly, what dreams ‘of mine/of ours’ have you made real? The grown-up Bach can’t really answer, just makes excuses. Almost across the board he got caught up in work and the problems of the day and he didn’t achieve much of what he wanted as a child, he forgot all his childhood dreams. He tries to prove something to the little kid who is he. He gives him advice, explains something. But he can’t overcome the starry-eyed boy’s disappointment, and the boy rejects this version of himself in the future.
“Gradually they start patching things up and then, looking back over the years, the man points out his own mistakes and gives the boy tips.
“The main conclusion of the book is one should not live a sated, contented life in a straight line, but take initiative. Life is not a preset route like a railway. Life is a movie and living it like a humble extra in it is the most boring thing that can possibly happen to you. Run from a full belly, tranquility and safety. By the way, that is what our Prince Albert is like: he’s been to the North Pole, competed in the Paris-Dakar rally, even taken part in the Olympics five times.”
“Why are you telling me all this?”
“So you’d realize that by taking a risk with Pascal, you’re doing him a favor. He’s playing an extra’s part with no highs or lows. If you offered him a chance to switch from being a desk drone to being the lead character in a wild financial venture, what do you think he’d say? You’ll be betraying him the same way he did you, if you don’t hoist him out of there, or, at least, try. What sort of friend are you if you won’t lend him a hand?”
Isaac said nothing for a long time, then he pulled over onto the shoulder and gave Bikie a hug.
“You’re a real friend, Bikie.”
“More slobbering. I already know I’m a real friend,” Bikie remarked, but without a drop of his trademark acidity.
Italy, the border, France, Monaco. And then there was the house up ahead. The road back had seemed really short. They reached Wolanski’s villa running on adrenalin they each felt in their own way, but essentially they shared one feeling – the excitement and joy of success and the anticipation of what comes next.
Isaac dashed straight to the hospital to see Vicky, where he learned that her condition had not changed, and she was still stable. He was relieved that she has not gone worse while he was away.
Previously he had been thinking all the time about her surgery and the money he didn’t have. Now his head was more occupied with Link and Michelle. It came to his mind that it was cowardice on his part to be glad that everything was still the same that Vicky had not gotten worse.
He sat down by her bed, the sensor measuring her pulse rate chirped quietly. The transparent mask over her mouth and nose made it hard for Isaac to imagine that she was simply asleep. Isaac realized how badly he missed her. He took Vicky’s hand and started talking to her quietly. He told her about Sardinia and the vigilant old woman. About how he met a man who was unique. About Bikie’s stupid jokes. He told her everything he would have told her if she could hear him. Apart from one single thing – that he’d had a hallucination, a moment when he thought of Vicky as not his sister, but as a coveted girlfriend. That absurd delusion was completely gone by now, thanks to Michelle. He told his little sister about his new relationship too.
And suddenly his mobile phone rang. The number wasn’t identified and it was Pellegrini.
“Already back in Monaco? Can we meet?”
“Yes,” Isaac replied as neutrally as he could, trying not to transmit his agitation over the phone.
“I’ll expect you tomorrow at eleven. Don’t be late,” said Pellegrini and then, feeling pleased, he filled out the paperwork for another trip to Monaco.
He ought to call Grace Kelly Hospital later and thank them for their assistance. Pellegrini had learned that Isaac was back in Monaco the moment the hospital called and told him Monsieur Leroy had come to visit his sister. In the most polite tone that he could muster, Pellegrini asked them to always call him in the future when Isaac shows up and also, if he does not come alone, to take a note of the names of the people with him.
In the evening, Isaac and Bikie discussed the summons to the police, but came to the conclusion that nothing terrible could happen. If Isaac insisted that he hadn’t been given anything – and no one could prove he had – there wasn’t any particular problem, they thought. He could go with a lawyer, but that would arouse the police’s suspicions of something shady. They decided that Isaac would go alone, but just to be on the safe side Bikie promised to clean
up the computers and erase all traces of the lists including the results of the search and other indirect evidence.
The interest from the police had to be snuffed out before it took hold. The last thing they needed was for the police to decide to visit Isaac at home, with Link just about to arrive.
***
The commissioner asked various questions, seemingly innocent. To most of them Isaac had the answers ready.
“Have you remembered anything after the terrorist attack that you didn’t mention before?”
“No, nothing.”
“Have you suffered any post-traumatic syndrome?” “No, I’m fine, thanks.” “Any nightmares?”
“No, they don’t bother me.”
“Where are you staying now?”
“At Peter Wolanski’s villa.”
“Just taking it easy at Wolanski’s place?”
“Working.” “What do you?”
“Security, we keep an eye on the house, the pool, the lawn.”
“Who with?”
“Bikie, Just a friend. We work together.”
“Have you known him for long?”
“No, we met at the job.”
“How did you find the job with Wolanski?”
“From an ad.”
“Who do you spend time with?”
“No one in particular.”
“Where did you go to?”
“To Spain, to Ibiza. Then to Italy, Napoli. To see a friend.”
“What’s the friend’s name?”
“Alfredo.”
“Does he have a surname?”
“Yes, of course. Martinez.”
“It must be a nice place.”
“For a break, not for working. Of course it’s nice.”
“Did you talk to Elvis?” Suddenly said the commissioner, changing his tone abruptly.
“Who is Elvis? That schizo?’
“Yes. The terrorist. You were in the same cell for several hours. Did you talk on that day?”
“My head was killing me. Your idiots – sorry for that – clouted me so hard I got concussion.”
Collective Mind Page 22
