To her right, she saw a trunk with her father's name stamped on the lid. She recognized it from when she was a child. He had kept it crammed with books in his study in the United States. It was locked. She reached for her father's keys, picked one that looked as if it might fit and put it into the padlock. It turned smoothly. When she released the catch and opened the trunk, the fusty smell was achingly familiar. But it was no longer filled with books.
One side was stacked with photograph albums and sheafs of letters tied with faded blue ribbon. She flicked through the photos of her mother and father when they were a complete family, and a rush of emotion overwhelmed her. She was an obvious blend of both parents.
The letters were from her mother to her father. Most had been written while he was away on lecture tours, but the older ones dated back to their courting years. All were love letters. As she glanced through them she felt joy that her parents had shared such a love -- the love that had produced her -- but also a crushing sadness that they were both gone.
An old black folder, held together with an elastic binder, nestled in the other half of the trunk. It felt thick and heavy when she placed it on her lap. Inside she found paper covered with her father's handwriting. The leaves were dated and went back many years. Each entry began 'My dearest Lauren'. They were letters to Isabella's mother -- written after her death. It was touching to think of her father coming up here with a glass of wine to write to his dead wife, as though she was simply in another country.
They were candid letters, which recorded her father's uncensored thoughts. As she flicked through them she saw her own name and read of her father's concern when 'that fool, Leo, broke Isabella's heart' -- 'I try to comfort her but I was never any good at that sort of thing. I wish you were here to help her, Lauren, as you always helped me.'
Fascinated by this unique glimpse into her father's view of the world, she picked out pages randomly, careful to replace each one. Some saddened her because they expressed his disappointment with his work, and bitterness against the pharmaceutical companies, long diatribes, complaining of how he was undervalued and unappreciated. Isabella had always known that her father hungered for recognition but not of his desperation to make his mark on the world before the years slipped away from him. The tone of one entry, however, was different, triumphant. It caught her eye because it was underlined. 'I've done it. I've taken the NiL drug and tomorrow I'll know the effects.' A later entry read: 'Tonight I injected Maria with NiL #072. I'm sure I've done the right thing. How can love be bad?'
She began to search out references to NiL, going back to the earliest pages, where her father had summarized his discovery, using diagrams and fragments of formulae. She read each scribbled page with growing unease and disbelief. Her father was a brilliant man, and as she read his detailed notes, her own knowledge of neurology and genetics told her that his nature-identical love project was far from the ranting of a madman. But surely it was too bizarre to be genuine.
She flicked forward and theaded together the history of his project from the drug's conception in the research laboratories at MIT in the States to its development in his own laboratory in Turin. After a near disastrous trial with the forty-second version, which had almost made him scrap the venture, he had developed two stable variants, temporary version sixty-nine and lifelong version seventy-two. When he had successfully tested the temporary version on himself, falling madly in love with a variety of women, he had used seventy-two to fall permanently in love with Maria. He had then injected it into Maria -- without her knowledge -- to make her love him.
Isabella put down the letters. This was unbelievable. Her father believed he had chemically induced his love for Maria and hers for him. He was so convinced that he had created a world-changing drug that he had approached the Kappels to finance his vision.
She went back to the letters and saw something that made her catch her breath. The letter, dated five months ago, explained, 'Lauren, I have to believe that Max Kappel is an honourable man. Otherwise I can't justify what I've done. If Isabella ever learns of it I pray she understands my intentions were good. I harbour the hope that the Antibes test with NiL #069 will not only prove to the Kappels that the technology works, but also teach Isabella to love again. After losing you and then being betrayed by Leo, she deserves happiness in her life. Like the happiness I found with Maria.'
Isabella had to read the words three times to digest their meaning. Whatever his justifications, she couldn't believe her father had used her as an unwitting pawn to prove the effectiveness of his technology and gain funding. She found it harder to deny that NiL was real, though. She had indeed fallen for Max in Antibes. Something cold slithered in her stomach. She could no longer be certain now of her feelings for Max, or his for her. Which tainted even her father's love.
Her father, whom she had loved so much, had not only kept his momentous discovery from her, he had used it to abuse her love. Even Max had known about the experiment in Antibes. He, too, might have been a pawn, but at least he had been aware of what was going on. Whom could she trust? What could she trust? She felt dizzy and nauseous.
Willing herself to focus, she went back to the letters and sought out all references to nature-identical love. She lost track of how long she pored over the pages, switching on the lamp as the light faded. The notes were too general to explain the science in detail, the States, but the first recorded samples of NiL #069 and 072 were those he had tested on himself and Maria. Apart from the early trials, the samples were most listed in pairs for testing on couples.
She and Max had been the first couple tested after her father and Maria. In his files her father had labelled their samples 'Romeo' and 'Juliet'. The dates tallied with her holiday to Antibes and when she met Max. She had been under the drug's influence for only two days but it now undermined her confidence in everything she felt. Her father's drug had been designed to promote love, but it had made her distrust it.
A small box appeared on the screen informing her that the data burn on her blank disk was complete. She ejected the disk and put it into her pocket. She was about to click on the mouse and switch off the computer when she glanced at the bottom of the screen. Her finger froze on the mouse: the next pairing on the NiL Trial Sample Schedule had been designed for Helmut Kappel and his last wife and both samples were permanent NiL #072 serums. One sample contained her facial imprint, the other his. The date indicated that her father had made them months ago, and a note in the comments column indicated that they had been handed to Helmut almost immediately. Yet since then Helmut Kappel had divorced his wife and become engaged to Phoebe Davenport.
A cold shiver ran down Isabella's back. But before she could develop the thought she heard a sound: tyres on gravel, cars parking outside. She checked her watch: 7:18 a. M. It was still dark. The slam of the first car door galvanized her to shut down the computer and rush for the laboratory exit. She closed it behind her and made for the outer door. Heart pumping, she ran outside and rushed into the trees just before three men appeared from the car park. She recognized them from Phoebe's surprise engagement dinner: Helmut, Joachim and Klaus Kappel.
'Why did we have to meet so early?' she heard Klaus mutter in the cold morning air.
We've got a lot to cover,' Helmut rasped. 'I'll explain inside.'
Head spinning, she watched them enter the laboratory and close the door. Part of her wanted to go back and eavesdrop, but the greater part was desperate to get away. She patted her pocket, feeling for the disk, then turned into the woods where she had left her father's bike. She ignored the thorns tearing at her ankles, and concentrated on the nagging thoughts in her head.
Her father had given Helmut Kappel the nature-identical love drug to be used by him and his wife. Presumably Helmut had asked for them. Why had he and his wife not used them? Why had they got divorced instead? And why had Helmut become engaged to Phoebe Davenport?
That was the wrong question, she realized, as the disk pressed against her thigh.
It was obvious why a diseased old man wanted to marry one of the world's most beautiful and desirable young women.
The real question was: how had Helmut Kappel persuaded Phoebe Davenport that she wanted to marry him?
HALF AN HOUR LATER
THEFINAL REVIEW MEETING BEFORE THEY FLEW OFF FOR THE wedding was scheduled for nine thirty in the morning, but the autoroute from the French riviera had been clear and Max had arrived over an hour early. He left his car in the main car park by the gatehouse so he could walk across the business park towards Bacci's laboratory. When he reached it he was surprised to see two limousines. He had expected Joachim to be there early but not his father. An alarm sounded in the back of his mind.
He punched the security code into the main door, careful to open it quietly, then crept into the main hallway and along the corridor to the laboratory. The door was open and he heard voices. His father and Joachim were talking. Then he heard Klaus. The meeting wasn't scheduled to start for over an hour, yet all three were there, clearly in the middle of something. When he heard Joachim say his name he paused outside the door.
What about Max? You sure he's okay?'
'What do you mean?' Klaus said.
Max stepped closer and peered through the crack in the door. He saw Joachim shrug. 'Given his weakness for Isabella Bacci, are we sure he knows where his loyalties lie?'
'Be careful what you say, Joachim,' Klaus warned. 'Max has taken far greater risks than you ever have. He injected all four target clients, including Hudsucker, and he retrieved all the blood samples so you could make your drugs for the bridesmaids, including the Bacci girl. Why would Max do that if he was compromised?'
'Because he wants her out of Ilium,' Helmut rasped, 'and he doesn't yet know the true fate of the bridesmaids.'
Klaus frowned. "What fate?'
Helmut sighed. 'Did you think I was just going to take our treacherous clients' money and let them live out their lives in uxorious bliss? They've betrayed us, Klaus. They've threatened the welfare of the bank and the family. And, as its head, they've threatened me. I don't just want to bleed them dry of their money. I want to punish them. And I want them to suffer for a long, long time.'
Klaus shrugged. 'How?'
'Joachim has made a modification to the permanent NiL Seventy-two version of the drug. He's spliced it with the genetic poison vector he created at Comvec to amplify and bring forward any inherited weaknesses in the bridesmaids' genomes.' Helmut rose from his chair and paced. 'It doesn't change the plan. We still inject them with the standard temporary version when they arrive at the wedding venue, ensuring they fall in love with their paired target client - who, of course, will already be smitten with them. Towards the end of the two-day trial -- on the eve of my wedding -- we will explain to the lovesick clients that if they wish to ensure their love's permanent devotion they must pay. The only difference now is that utter we have extracted the payments we will inject the bridesmaids with the modified version of the permanent Seventy-two. This means that, although each client still leaves with his prize, she will die in six months' time of whatever weakness rides within her genome.'
Joachim checked the computer screen beside him. 'Two, including Isabella Bacci, will die of accelerated cancers, the other two of heart-related diseases.'
'You'll leave the treacherous bastards heartbroken and alone for the rest of their lives,' Klaus observed.
'And bankrupt,' said Helmut.
'But what about Isabella? You said Max wants her out.'
'That's not going to happen,' Helmut said. 'Isabella Bacci's face is our fortune. Not only is she worth over a billion dollars to us, she's also an unsettling influence on Max and a loose end that needs to be tied up. If she ever found out about her father's drug, or our role in his death, she might be a threat. By using her in Ilium we not only extract our payment from Hudsucker but eradicate any potential problems with her. It's neater this way.' 'But what about Max?' Klaus said. Helmut glanced at Joachim. 'We'll handle him.' Max stood still and silent, channelling all his energy into slowing his heartbeat. He had to stay calm and clear his mind. But as he stared at his father he could feel years of suppressed rage bubbling to the surface. Despite immense provocation he had never betrayed his father, and he had always subjugated his needs to those of the family. Yet now his father was not only questioning his loyalty, he was betraying him.
While he was studying for his MBA at Insead, a Canadian tutor had shown Max a psychological checklist used to identify psychopaths. It had itemized forty indicative traits, including social glibness, constant need for stimulation, lack of empathy and remorse. Anyone with twenty-six or more of these traits was diagnosed clinically psychopathic. A surprising number of business and political leaders scored in the high twenties and low thirties. Now Max had no doubt that Helmut Kappel was that rare creature who would score forty out of forty: a perfect psychopath who felt nothing, not even loyalty to his own kin.
Max wanted to demand that he spare Isabella, but he realized it would only reinforce his father's conviction that he was in her thrall and couldn't be trusted. Max saw then that he owed his family no bond of duty or loyalty. His only allegiance was to himself.
He took three silent steps back to the main door of the laboratory, noisily opened and closed it, then cleared his throat, walked to the laboratory door and threw it open.
All three looked up. 'You're early, Max,' Helmut said. 'Not as early as you. Have you started without me?' His father laughed. 'Of course not. Come in -- we've a lot to discuss.'
THAT NIGHT
Back in phoebe's milan apartment, the more Isabella explored the disk she had copied from her father's computer, the more its contents horrified her. His work was undeniably brilliant: she could see that. And it was obvious from his notes that he had believed he was creating a power for good in the world. But his assumption that nature-identical love -- triggered by a superficial fixation with the human face -- was the same as true love appalled her.
Even in purely scientific terms it was understood that, although synthesized nature-identical flavours and perfumes were indistinguishable from those found in nature, their creation was unnatural. Nature-identicals were chemical clones grown in a laboratory and were never as highly valued as the real thing. Nature-identical vanilla cost a fraction of the price that natural vanilla commanded.
Love, as she understood it, couldn't be chemically broken down into its component parts and synthesized. True love was as much about chance as it was about chemistry. The serendipity of that first meeting was what made it precious; the knowledge that if one had taken a different path one would never have found one's soulmate. But love was also about taking risks and investing something of oneself in a soulmate.
More fundamentally, the NiL drug gave the user absolute power and, as someone once said, absolute power corrupts absolutely. She believed that if she had the drug she wouldn't use it to possess the person she loved -- but she would be sorely tempted. The more she discovered about how her father's NiL drug worked, the more she saw it as a licence for abuse. It didn't promote love as giving and selfless, but as superficial and controlling. As she dug deeper into the formulae and the symptoms she became convinced that Phoebe had fallen victim to its malign influence.
From her father's shocked reaction to the news of Phoebe and Helmut Kappel's engagement, Isabella was satisfied that he hadn't been involved. Which meant that Helmut had taken the drug her father had provided for him to repair his marriage and injected it into Phoebe. But she had no proof.
The disk proved that her father had created a brilliant but dangerous control drug dressed up in the language of love. It also showed that he had used the drug on his second wife and Isabella. But it provided no evidence of foul play by the Kappels. If she went to the authorities or the press with it, she would only destroy her father's reputation.
And there was always the chance that Phoebe's love was genuine and Helmut had done nothing wrong. But when she recalled him abusing Phoeb
e on the night of the engagement party, she thought that the chance of that was slim.
She flicked through the folders until she came to one labelled 'Prosopagnosia'. She opened it, saw the contents, and almost cried. In the midst of her father's madness he had thought of her. He had itemized every area of his research that might be beneficial to her research into face-blindness. But even that didn't justify what he had done.
She stood up and paced around Phoebe's apartment. Everywhere she looked she saw photographs and mementoes of their friendship that made her determined to unearth the truth. But what could she do?
If she told Phoebe her suspicions, her friend would laugh at her. Or worse. Phoebe was about to marry the man she loved and would hardly thank Isabella for wrecking her big day by suggesting her love might have been drug-induced.
She could challenge Helmut Kappel direct, but what would that achieve? He was hardly likely to admit any wrongdoing.
Apart from the Zero Substitution Effect she had read about, there were no safeguards and certainly no antidotes. Her father had apparendy decided that since most versions of his drug lasted only two days, there was no need to develop anything to reverse the DNA changes in the subject's target cells. Even when he had created the permanent version, he still hadn't deemed it necessary. After all, who needed an antidote for love?
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