True (2004)

by Cordy, Michael

  AS MAX LOOKED DOWN AT ISABELLA HE MARVELLED AT HOW MUCH he could feel for another person. His chest felt tight and his heart ached, almost as if it had been crushed. The pain was so acute that part of him almost wished Joachim's drug had worked, and that he now loved Delphine Chevalier. If anything, his love for Isabella now burned even more fiercely. He couldn't understand why the drug hadn't worked on him.

  He put away his gun and stepped towards Isabella, but she recoiled from his outstretched hand. He hated seeing the distrust in her eyes. He had killed for her and would gladly die for her, but he deserved her fear, even her hatred. His only consolation was that his darker side now protected her.

  Isabella stared at Stein's body, watching the blood form a red halo in the icy snow around his head. T don't understand,' she muttered. "What the hell's going on?'

  'You're safe with me, Isabella, and I'll explain everything, but for now you've got to trust me.'

  'Trust you? After all you've done? After Antibes?The lies?My father?' She lunged forward and pounded his chest with her fists. He stood unmoving while the blows rained down on him and wished she could beat away his guilt and self-disgust. When her fury subsided, he held her in his arms.

  'I hate you. I hate you,' she hissed.

  'I know -- and I don't blame you. But I love you. I've loved you from the first time I saw you. From before I took the drug.' He looked down at her face and her eyes glared up at him. He had no chance of winning her love, he knew, but he could still put right what he had done. 'It doesn't matter what you feel about me, Isabella, all that matters is that we stop Project Ilium and save the others.'

  'Why should I trust you now?'

  'Because I haven't killed you. And because I'm all you've got.'

  She paused. 'So what do we do?'

  He picked up the Kukri knife from beside Stein's corpse and felt the curved blade. The edge was razor sharp. 'First of all, roll up your sleeve.'

  The fear returned to her eyes. 'Why?'

  'Because you've still got to die.'

  AN HOUR LATER

  AS HELMUT KAPPEL SAT IN THE ICE CHAPEL ALONE WITH HIS younger son, Isabella was far from his thoughts.

  'Administering the Venus serum is straightforward, Vati,' Joachim said, holding a vial in one hand and tapping at his laptop with the other. 'By tomorrow morning the guests will be primed.'

  Helmut leaned back on the fur-covered seat, watching the smoke from his cigar loop up into the rainbow shafts of refracted sunlight, which danced round the prism of the ice-chapel vault. 'I understand how it's to be administered. I just want to be sure it works.'

  Joachim turned the screen so it faced his father. 'In simple terms I've combined two tried and tested elements. We know that Bacci's NiL Forty-two genes induce an obsessive devotion to whoever's facial blueprint is encoded within them when neutralizing all other feelings of love. And I know exactly how the Tag Vector will deliver them, because I developed it. It'll work. The only issue is timing.'

  'Timing?'

  'Because my vector has an airborne component based on a virulent influenza retrovirus, I had to build in certain safety features when seeking approval from the European and American authorities. If you remember, the Tag Vector was originally developed to spread cures -- specifically for Aids. It works in two stages. It's initially given to the patient orally, and once in the bloodstream it targets specific cells. If it detects a certain chemical signal - in the case of Aids it's the presence of HIV - it mutates and its airborne influenza component becomes active, triggering a mild irritation in the patient's respiratory tract. The Tag Vector and its therapeutic contents cure the patient of Aids and spread, through coughing, to the next patient, where the process starts again. However, if it detects nothing within forty-eight hours the Tag Vector dies and leaves the host. This safety feature was designed to ensure that the virus only survives and spreads if it can do some good.'

  'What does this mean for Venus?'

  'Obviously the Tag Vector here is delivering the NiL Forty-two genes and not an Aids cure, but the principle still applies. In this case, however, instead of HIV acting as the trigger, it's facial recognition. Basically the guests take Venus imprinted with your facial genetic code and the next morning they awake primed. Then as long as they see your face within forty-eight hours -- or a picure of your face -- the second airborne stage of the Tag Vector will be triggered, and Venus's effect will not only be permanent, it will spread.'

  'If they don't see me in that period?'

  'The drug fades from their systems and their brains correct themselves. But that's not going to happen, Vati. You're getting married tomorrow. You'll be the centre of attention. Everyone's going to see your face and nothing will go wrong. Just as you asked me, Vati, I've ensured that Venus is essentially an airborne, nature-identical love virus, from which there is no escape and for which there is no cure.'

  Despite the chill in the chapel Helmut felt warm with anticipation. 'Excellent, Joachim.'

  His son beamed with pride. 'But that's not all, Vati. The best bit is--'

  Helmut heard raised voices outside the main door of the chapel. The two guards had been instructed to allow no one entry. Not even Klaus or Max. 'Put everything away, Joachim.'

  Joachim hid the vial and closed the laptop as the door opened and Max strode into the chapel with a leather bag. A guard followed him, protesting, but Helmut raised his hand.

  'Max?'

  Max waited for the guard to leave, then placed the bag on the floor before them. His face was pale and expressionless. 'What is it, Max?'

  Max reached for Joachim's laptop and opened it. Joachim made to stop him, but Helmut shook his head. Max switched it on and waited for the access screen to appear. Then he returned to the bag and opened it. 'You feared I'd given my heart to Isabella and betrayed you. But that's impossible. I'm a Kappel and have no heart.' Max pulled out a sealed plastic freezer bag and opened it to reveal another plastic bag, which contined what looked like meat. Both bags were wet with blood. 'Isabella had a heart, though,' Max said, and let a drop of blood fall on to the laptop's DNA sensor. Within seconds Isabella's face appeared on the screen, along with the words: 'Access Denied'.

  Max reached into the inner bag and presented the bloody mass to Helmut. 'I said I'd prove my loyalty, Vater.' His father recoiled and his brother retched. 'Isabella had a large heart,' Max said, and pushed the bag into Helmut's face. 'Go on! Touch it! Smell it! Taste it! You once told me that a pure Kappel feels no emotion, has no conscience and shows no pain. Is this enough proof that I'm a pure, loyal Kappel?'

  Helmut was stunned. Years ago he had ruthlessly killed a woman he had thought he loved because she threatened the family. Now their son had outstripped even his brutality.

  'Do you trust me now, Vater?' Max demanded. 'Are you proud of me?'

  Beneath his shock Helmut felt a surge of satisfaction. He had purged all trace of his first wife's nature from their son and shaped Max in his own image. 'Yes,' he whispered. 'I'm proud of you.'

  'Good,' Max said. He repacked the plastic bags, replaced the bundle in the leather tote and strode out.

  MAXWAS SHAKING AS HE LEFT THE CHAPEL, BUT HE DIDN'T FEEL cold. He headed straight for the deserted boiler-house. Inside there were two rooms. One contained steel hawsers, flares, drums of oil and emergency winter supplies. The second housed a back-up generator and two cast-iron boilers -- one was oil-powered, and the auxiliary burned solid fuel. Both were in operation. He went to the smaller boiler, opened the feeder door and threw in the leather bag.

  Outside, he saw two of the five ex-Stasi guards his father had brought to Valhalla to handle security. He had always taken them for granted, but now he saw them as a threat. They hailed him: 'Herr Kappel, have you seen Herr Stein?'

  He could have told an eleborate lie, but in his experience the truth was always more credible. 'Not since I got back.'

  He avoided die main glass doors and crunched through the snow to the steps that led to the summer te
rrace on die second tier of the crystal palace. Apart from two sets of fresh footprints- -- one large, the other small -- the snow-encrusted steps were unused. When he reached the terrace he walked to the first set of tinted sliding doors. The reflective glass made it impossible to see inside the suite. He took off his glove, blew on his hand, then placed his palm on the DNA sensor. There was a delay because of the cold, then his face appeared on the monitor and the doors slid open.

  He stepped on to the mat and, as the doors closed behind him, glanced around the lounge area of his suite. He kicked off his snowy boots walked into the bedroom and opened the bathroom door. He glimpsed Isabella leaning over the bath, dressing the cut on her left arm, before she jerked round, eyes huge with panic. The fright dimmed when she saw it was him. She still looked as pale as she had when he had forced himself to cut out Stein's heart. Every cell in his body had resisted performing the butchery, but it had been effective: no Kappel could doubt him now -- and, more importantly, he had bought himself and Isabella some time.

  'You're safe for now,' he said, as gently as he could. 'They think you're dead.'

  He led her into the lounge, poured two glasses of malt whisky and gave her one. She drank it and coughed. He refilled her glass. This time she held it in both hands and sipped. 'What do you know about Ilium?' he asked.

  She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a firewire portable hard drive. 'Not much. The files are in German.' 'In that case,' he said, 'I'll tell you all I know.' For the next half-hour, Max told her everything, keeping nothing from her. He told her how his mother had taken him from Zurich as a boy, given him a US passport and a new identity. And how his father had found them in Hawaii and killed her. He explained the Kappel family business and that he was its heir. He told her how he had murdered to help clients and the business. He told her how Trapani had recommended Kappel Privatbank and its Comvec offshoot to her father. He recounted the night of Bacci's death. Finally he told her about Project Ilium, explaining that after the wedding, assuming the respective target clients had paid their dues, each bridesmaid would be given a permanent version of the NiL drug, modified to kill them in six months.

  'So, we have all received the harmless temporary NiL drug?' Isabelle asked.

  'Yes. The others won't get the permanent lethal version until they leave tomorrow:'

  'But you're sure we all got the temporary version? Including me?'

  'Joachim and Stein injected you all on the way here.' Then it dawned on him. 'It hasn't worked on you, has it? You feel nothing for Hudsucker.'

  'No.'

  'The permanent version didn't work on me. But the drug worked on both of us in Antibes. Why not this time?'

  Something flashed in her eyes, but she shook her head as though to dismiss the thought.

  'What?' he said.

  She sipped her whisky. 'Nothing.'

  She looked so vulnerable and alone that he wanted to reassure her. 'I won't stand by and let my family kill you. I tried to warn you the night before you flew out here, but my father injected me with the drug then sedated me. I watched you leave your apartment as I lost consciousness.' He relived the moment. 'I've only ever felt so helpless and desolate once before. I was sure that when I awoke I'd forget I loved you. But I didn't.' He waited for her to say something.

  After a brief pause she stood up and held out the portable hard drive. 'Your laptop?'

  He pointed to the desk in the corner. She walked over and attached the firewire cable. 'You're sure we've got until tomorrow to stop Ilium?'

  Max checked his watch. 'Yes. My father and Klaus should be meeting with the target clients at any moment to extract their payment. The lethal permanent dose will be administered as the bridesmaids leave. But, I won't let that happen.'

  She powered up the computer and opened the folder. 'Okay, I understand Ilium, but not Project Venus.'

  'What?'

  She pointed at a folder on the screen labelled 'Ilium/Venus'. 'You've never heard of it?'

  'No.'

  She double-clicked on the folder, revealing two separate ones, then highlighted Venus. 'It shares the same folder as Ilium, so I guess it's some kind of sister project. Perhaps it's the antidote.' She double-clicked and a list of files appeared. She opened the first.

  It was a German text document, evidently a management summary of the project. The introductory paragraph made him gasp. He reached for the mouse. Helmut Kappel's project could never be called an antidote - unless you had the darkest sense of humour. As he scrolled down the screen he was appalled by his father's arrogance. And yet it all made a kind of sense. 'Shit,' he muttered.

  What is it?' she said. 'Tell me.'

  TWO HOURS LATER

  'you asked to see me.' feliks lysenko was the third to be called into the small conference room near the atrium. Now that Isabella was dead diey would have to wait to extract payment from Hudsucker, but Helmut Kappel wasn't dissastisfied. Over the last couple of hours Giscard Corbasson and Christophe Nadolny had agreed terms, and there was no reason to suppose that the Russian would be any different. Venus hadn't even begun, but Helmut had never felt more poweful.

  The masked ball wasn't due to start for a few hours but Lysenko wore immaculate evening dress and carried an elaborate mask. The Russian glanced at Klaus Kappel, who was sitting in the corner looking at a laptop. 'Where are your masks?' he asked, as excited as a child at Halloween.

  We'll wear them when the party starts,' Helmut said.

  Lysenko wagged a finger. 'Is this a business meeting? Shame on you! It is the eve of your wedding. You should have fun.'

  'Have a seat, Feliks. Have you been enjoying yourself?'

  Lysenko sat and a broad grin creased his face. 'I have never had such fun. The company has been perfect.'

  Helmut smiled. 'Kathryn Walker is indeed exquisite -- and to be in love with a beautiful young woman who reciprocates your passion! Believe me, I know how that feels.'

  Lysenko grinned, and Helmut had to turn away to conceal his contempt. He marvelled at how quickly love's alchemy had turned the Russian into a foolish boy.

  'But, Feliks, you of all people understand that everything has a price. Since I invited you to my wedding, you haven't been able to stop thinking about Kathryn. Don't deny it, my friend - you've been in a kind of hell. Then you came here, met the object of your dreams and are now in heaven. Am I right?'

  Lysenko said nothing.

  'It would be unthinkable to return to hell now, Feliks, wouldn't it? I know I'd hate it if Phoebe no longer wanted me.'

  Lysenko frowned.

  'Let me be frank with you, Feliks. Although you're intending to move your accounts from Kappel Privatbank, we remain loyal to you. We still wish to serve you as our client. We want nothing more than to see you leave here with your new love, and live happily ever after.' He paused. 'But there's a problem.'

  'What are you saying?'

  'That Kathryn Walker's love for you will expire by the end of tomorrow. When you leave here, the two blissful days you spent with her will be only a memory that'll haunt you for the rest of your life. If you agree to certain conditions, however, we can guarantee that her love for you will last her lifetime.'

  Lysenko's initial reaction was no different from that of the Frenchman and the Swiss. He was furious. 'Who the fuck do you think you are? You don't control my private life. How dare you? I will destroy you.' He strode to the door.

  'Don't be foolish, Feliks. Look at the facts. Your passion for Kathryn began after we sent you an invitation to my wedding. When I introduced you to her, she immediately fell madly in love with you. Why? She doesn't need your money. You're her social inferior. And she certainly isn't after you for your youthful looks.'

  Lysenko's head was a red beacon of rage. But he hovered by the door.

  Helmut marvelled again at how love's power could turn even the most ruthless, hard-headed man into a malleable fool. 'Don't be offended, Feliks. Look at Phoebe and me. How do you think I snared her? I don't fool
myself that she'd be marrying me without a little help. You must have known it was too good to be true. You went from desperation to having your dream come true. But dreams cost money. Fortunately you have plenty of that.'

  Lysenko reached for the door handle. But his feet didn't move. 'How much?' he said eventually.

  'Well, here is the problem. There are other interested parties. Kathryn Walker is a very desirable woman. But we want you to have her. You've been a client for a long time and I hope you'll stay one for even longer.'

  'How much do you want?' Lysenko said.

  'How much do you want her?'

  'A million?'

  Helmut laughed, and turned to Klaus. 'How much can our good friend afford?'

  'At least a thousand times more than that.'

  'This is the deal, Feliks. If you want us to guarantee you Kathryn Walker's love for the rest of her life, you'll transfer a billion euros into an escrow account. We'll ensure that the payments are staggered so they don't look too obvious.'