Pushing Brilliance

by Tim Tigner

  Katya gave her Alisa’s DOB.

  “If you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’ll be right back.” Rita got up and made for the door.

  “Do we follow her?” Katya asked.

  “We stay. She’s not leaving.”

  “How can you be sure? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed for this. That was selfish of me.”

  “I think you sold her. I was watching her body language. Once she got past the initial shock, she was leaning in and analyzing, not leaning out and thinking about escape. And I didn’t detect deception when she said she’d be right back. There was an apologetic intonation. Slight, but detectable. She went outside to check you out. She’s being cautious.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Rita didn’t return in a minute. She didn't return in two, or three, or ten. But after twelve minutes she walked back in, just like before, the belle of the ball. She slid back into her seat, proffering a stern smile. “There are rules.”

  Chapter 70

  The Pitch

  RITA MET EACH of our eyes in turn, her gaze suddenly as serious as a sphinx. “I’m making a special exception for you. A big exception. Fortunately for you and me, there is a precedent for allowing multiple members of the same organization to become clients. But as you will see, we are adamant about our rules. I need to advise you that no further exceptions will be made.”

  I didn’t blink. “We understand.”

  “Very well. Rule One is Absolute Secrecy. The reasons for that will become clear shortly, but I need to get that on the table up-front. Think of it as joining the KGB. I’d say CIA, but American-style secrecy doesn’t conjure up quite the same vision as the old Soviet-style. You have to accept that you will never be able to discuss what you are about to learn with anyone. Ever. And for what it’s worth, you won’t want to.”

  Rita paused to look us each in the eye. “Assuming I can deliver what I promised, are you okay with that? Please consider your answer as seriously as you would an oath of office.”

  “We deal with confidential client information all the time,” Katya said, as we’d rehearsed. “Some of which is quite inflammatory. We’re comfortable with this version of attorney-client privilege, assuming the business is legitimate.”

  Rita looked at me.

  I nodded.

  “Very good. Forgive the theatrics. You’ll understand them in a moment. Now let me ask you,” Rita said, leaning in. “If you had to name the one quality your firm’s global managing partner possesses that got him to the position he holds today, what would it be?”

  “Easy enough. He’s affable and well-connected, but the driving distinction is the perception that he’s always the smartest person in the room.”

  “Precisely. Thank you for doing my job for me. That’s what I have to offer. I can make you the two smartest people in virtually any room.” Rita leaned back, and gave what appeared to be a prearranged signal to our passing waitress.

  “Literally, or figuratively?” I asked. “Are you selling covert information, or improved cognition?”

  “You both hold advanced degrees from Ivy League universities and fast-track positions at the most prestigious consulting firm on the planet. That puts your IQ’s somewhere in the range of 140, or 1 in 200. Sound about right?”

  We nodded, our eyes locked on hers in rapt attention.

  “I can take your IQs to 160. From 1 in 200 people, to 1 in 20,000. Add in your good looks, strong interpersonal skills, and killer work ethic, and you’ll truly be one in a million.”

  “How’s that possible?” Katya asked after a suitable period of stunned silence.

  Rita was all too ready with the answer. “A new pharmaceutical. A very exclusive, very expensive new pharmaceutical. Which brings us to the next bridge you need to cross if we are to proceed.”

  “The cost,” I said.

  Rita smiled. “As junior partners at Kenzie, you’re earning somewhere in the neighborhood of half a million, all in. Once you move up to partner, you’ll begin earning twice that amount. And then five, ten, and even twenty times as much as you move into and through the director ranks. You know all this. It’s why you’re there. It’s the dream. The dream, as you now see, that I can virtually guarantee.” She grinned wryly.

  “The cost of that dream is, of course, commensurate with the benefit. Something I’m sure you, as management consultants, can appreciate. It’s ninety thousand dollars a quarter.”

  “That’s a thousand dollars a day.” I blurted my calculation a bit louder than intended. Perhaps not a bad thing. I’d fully expected a large number, but wasn’t really prepared for that one. The $180,000 I’d need to cover Katya’s and my first dose was virtually everything I had left after bail and this operation’s other expenses.

  Rita didn’t miss a beat. “Roughly one-fourth the amount Kenzie charges clients for your services. Surely you wouldn’t expect to pay less?”

  Chapter 71

  Meritocracy

  THE WAITRESS ARRIVED carrying a shiny silver bucket pebbled with condensation. She set a crystal flute before each of us, and then set about unwrapping and popping the cork. Cristal Champagne, I noted. Probably costs north of $400 a bottle here. Nothing next to the $720,000 annuity Rita had just pitched, but noteworthy nonetheless.

  Once the flutes were bubbling away before us and the server had moved on, I said, “You know we can afford it, but you also know that it will be a struggle at this point in our careers. You timed your pitch to ensure our complete dedication to maintaining the integrity of your system.”

  “I timed it to help you make the biggest leap of your careers. A single promotion at this point is worth as much as all your other advances combined.” Rita picked up her flute. “Is that a financial commitment you’d be willing to take? We can either drink to your careers, or we can end the discussion here and just enjoy a nice bottle of bubbly. It’s entirely up to you.”

  She was smooth. The perfect recruit for her job. Whoever had hired Rita knew his stuff. “You tell a good story,” I said. “But how do we know there’s more to it than that? Talk is cheap.”

  “You will, of course, have the opportunity to try before you buy. But we need to know you’re committed before crossing that bridge. To put it in your parlance, we’d want a figurative LOI from you, a Letter of Intent. Your agreement to proceed at the terms discussed, assuming the product passes your scrutiny.”

  Katya and I looked at each other, then down at our glasses. We picked them up, and Katya said, “Here’s to our careers.”

  The Cristal was delicious. Crisp and dry, yet smooth and buttery with a honeyed aroma that reminded me of a garden restaurant I’d visited on the Cote d’Azur. I wasn’t sure if it was worth twenty bucks a swallow, but it sure beat prison fare. “How does this new pharmaceutical of yours work?”

  Rita set her glass down. “An inquisitive mind. Why am I not surprised? There are two other hurdles I want to be sure you’re comfortable with, before we come to that. There’s a practical issue, and a philosophical one. First, the philosophical.” Rita paused, meeting my gaze.

  “The manufacturer has weighed the options and decided that Brillyanc — that’s the name of the pharmaceutical — will be reserved for the elite. The true ruling class. They believe there’s a line beyond which a democracy must yield to a meritocracy, and Brillyanc is on the other side of that line. Put another way, access to Brillyanc will be like one of Washington’s exclusive clubs, where you need both an invitation to join, and the funds to do so.”

  Rita gave us a just-look-around-you gaze. “Now, while Brillyanc is not a club, it’s also not like other pharmaceuticals. It’s not medicine. It doesn’t remedy a malady. There’s no condition it’s fixing or preventing. Everyone can live a normal, healthy life without it. Just like everyone can live without a Metropolitan Club membership.” Rita paused to look at each of us. “Are you with me?”

  “We understand,” Katya and I replied in chorus.

  “Good. Given that, the
manufacturer believes there’s no moral obligation to supply it to anyone. Or even to make it accessible to the majority of the population. They acknowledge, however, that the argument could be made that the greater good would be served if we were to put it in the water supply, so to speak. Like fluoride.

  “With Brillyanc, we have the power to raise the IQ of the entire population, the whole human race. We could boost mankind a few rungs higher on the evolutionary ladder. But we’re choosing to be selective instead. We’re going surgical, rather than systemic.” Again, she paused to aid our digestion.

  We remained silent.

  “If word of Brillyanc were to get out, the argument for widespread distribution would surely be made. Loudly and frequently. There would also be outrage regarding the pricing, since the vast majority of the population couldn’t afford it even at one-tenth the price. Both of these would eventually lead to backlash against Brillyanc users. There would be witch hunts fueled by fear and jealousy.”

  “Like the X-Men comic books,” I said.

  Rita raised her sculpted eyebrows. “Exactly. So the manufacturer is not going to be marketing the product publicly, and therefore will not be seeking regulatory approval. You need to be going into this with eyes wide open. You need to be philosophically comfortable with the meritocracy approach. And you need to be one hundred percent committed to maintaining our secret, recognizing that there could be devastating personal consequences if it ever came to light.”

  “Why so harsh?” I asked, curious as to how much Rita would reveal.

  “Not harsh. Balanced. You’d be betraying a network of the world’s most powerful people, and putting billions of dollars at risk.

  “So we’re all in it together,” Katya said. “KGB style.”

  “Are you okay with that?” Rita asked.

  “We’re used to taking risks to reap rewards,” I said. “To dancing close to the line if that’s what it takes to win. We know it’s a dog-eat-dog world. And we’re comfortable with our positions atop the food chain. What’s the practical issue you referenced?”

  “The practical issue,” Rita repeated, her voice switching from belligerent to bemused. “That’s the best part.”

  Chapter 72

  Perks

  RITA TOPPED OFF our champagne flutes, but set hers down without imbibing. “The practical issue involves the drug’s administration. Once a quarter, you’ll need to free up a weekend to get your Brillyanc infusion. Specifically, the second weekend of the second month of each quarter. Is that something to which you can commit?”

  “We have pretty busy travel schedules,” I said. “Is there any flexibility?”

  Rita pursed her lips and twisted her neck to look down to the left. “Not much. The last weekend of the first month of the quarter is the only alternative, but that’s on the West Coast. Over the next year we’ll be adding options on other weekends, probably in Dallas and Chicago, but for now it’s just DC and San Francisco on the schedule I mentioned.”

  She paused, and her face brightened. “Trust me, after you try it once, you’ll be happy to do whatever it takes to make it thereafter. It’s an unforgettable event.

  “The magic begins with the pre-party. Imagine what we’re talking about here.” Rita flared her hands and fingers like a starburst as her voice took on the excitement of a game show host. “We’re bringing together a group of the wealthiest, most powerful people in America, and we’re doing it in a context where everyone wants to remain anonymous. So, we turn it into a party, the likes of which, trust me, you’ve never experienced. Even a Kenzie annual director’s retreat wouldn’t compare.

  “First of all, everyone wears a costume we provide. It is a medical procedure, after all. But rather than an extra-large back-split cotton smock, you’re wearing tailored black silk pajamas and Zorro-style masks to conceal your identity.” Addressing Alisa, she asked, “Can you get by without your glasses? The mask will work much better without.”

  “No problem.”

  “Good. Picture yourself walking into a cocktail party the likes of which is suitable for a gathering of captains of the universe. The Cristal will be flowing freely, along with every other exquisite indulgence known to man. Some simply treat it like an exclusive costume party. Most guests, however, take it further. Imagine how the emperors partied near the end of the Roman Empire and you’ll have some idea. Combine that with the fact that everyone there is, shall we say, healthy and energetic and high on the good life, then throw in the anonymity, and most tend to lose the pesky inhibitions that constrain us in our daily lives.”

  Rita brought her hand down to the top button of her blouse while giving us a minute to let our imaginations run with that imagery.

  Mine surely did.

  “People arrive for the party between six and midnight, and then filter back to the infusion room as early as ten and as late as four in the morning to begin their overnight procedure. At that point, they’re as carnally satisfied as they’ve ever been in their lives.” She paused to take a slow sip of champagne before shifting gears.

  “Now, let me tell you what’s involved in the procedure itself. Brillyanc is a parenteral, so it’s infused intravenously. The infusion process takes six hours, during which you’ll be hooked up to an IV. Rather than a hospital bed, however, you’ll enjoy a setup similar to a first-class transoceanic flight. Very chic and comfortable. After six relaxing hours, you’ll be good to go for another three months. How’s that sound?”

  “That, uh ... sounds better than what I was expecting,” I said.

  “Trust me. Whatever you’re imagining, it’s better.”

  “You’ll be there?”

  “Best job perk in the world.”

  “Is it safe?” Katya asked. “Brillyanc, I mean. Not the sex.”

  “Totally. It naturally enhances your metabolism in a way that supplies the brain with a richer, cleaner supply of fuel. I know that sounds funny, but only until you think about it for a second, then you realize that your cognitive powers are always in flux based on how much sleep or exercise you’re getting, or what you’re eating or drinking.” Rita raised her glass. “Right?”

  “Sure. I get that,” I said. “Tell me, our job requires occasional drug testing. Will anything show up there?”

  “No. The only thing that will potentially test differently is your cholesterol level. If your LDL and triglycerides have increased over time, they’ll drift back down as a result of your metabolic improvements. No extra charge for that.”

  “Is it addictive?” Katya asked.

  Rita smiled — no doubt reflecting on her commission checks. “Not physically. But once you try it, you won’t want to live without it.”

  Chapter 73

  The Big Question

  YOU WON’T WANT TO LIVE WITHOUT IT. I wondered if that was just an expression. I decided it was. Rita seemed genuinely excited about it, and Max and Saba had been disappointed at losing their supply, but not suicidal. “Who invented it?”

  My question soured Rita’s sweet expression, if only for a second. “I don’t know. I’ll be frank with you — this experience is like joining the Manhattan Project. The level of secrecy, I mean. We’re working in a highly regulated field without an approved product, so we have to fly under the radar. On top of that, and again like the Manhattan Project, we’re working with a secret weapon.”

  “A secret weapon?” Katya repeated.

  “Brillyanc gives you the power to trounce your competition. So you’ll be guarding that secret like a winning lottery ticket. That said, like using the atomic bomb, there are ethical issues. It could be considered cheating, or worse. So Brillyanc is not for the faint of heart. It’s for people who are willing to do whatever it takes to succeed. True leaders, like Truman. The planet’s elite.”

  Rita drained her glass and set it down. “That’s my pitch. I know it’s a lot to think about.”

  “Not really,” I said. “When you’re climbing a ladder as greasy as ours, that’s all you think abo
ut. You work hard. You work smart. You make sacrifices. And you take every advantage you can get.”

  “Exactly,” Katya said.

  Rita looked back and forth between us both. “Well, all right then. The sample doesn’t require a six-hour infusion. It’s a shot. It will make you Brillyant for about four days, but I’ll give you a week to decide if you want to go ahead. That way you’ll also have a few days to begin missing your new superpower after it wears off. I’ll call you exactly seven days from now, at which point you’ll tell me yes or no. If yes, I’ll give you a bank account number and you’ll have 48 hours to deposit your first payment. If no, or if the funds don’t arrive, you’ll never hear from me again and the opportunity will be lost to you forever. Sound fair?”

  “Sounds fair,” we both said.

  “Excellent. Well, I was taught to stop talking once I made a sale so I’ll do that. I have a room upstairs if you’d like–” Rita had started to rise, but cut herself off and plopped back into her seat. “I only have one sample with me.”

  “Can we split it?” I asked. “Will that give us each a couple of days of Brillyanc?”

  Rita brought forefinger to chin. “I believe the titration curve is more or less linear, so that should work. There’s a bit of a ramp on either side, so you may only get the full effect for a day, but in my experience, that’s really all it takes to seal the deal. Do you think a day will be enough to convince you?”

  “We’re pretty quick with the data processing,” Katya said. “Which brings me to a question. Why not give weekly shots instead of a quarterly infusion?”

  Rita was ready for that one. “The logistics don’t work, given the amount of confidentiality and control required. Shall we go?” She stood, handed our waitress a stack of hundreds, and headed for the door. Not the first time she’d done this.

  Walking through the lobby of the Hay Adams toward the elevators with two of the most beautiful women on the planet, I was struck by a feeling I knew I’d never forget. For those thirty seconds or so I was that guy. The man all others envied. Or so it appeared. As we passed a large wall mirror, I took mental photos for my album. Gathering the rosebuds while I may. If I was going to be spending the rest of my life behind bars, well, this was one record that was going to get a lot of plays.