by Tim Tigner
“Are you kidding me? You want us to join you? Team up with the people who killed my family? Are you out of your mind?”
“You’ll be the one out of his mind, if you don’t take me up on the offer. Literally. I snap my fingers and within three seconds Ivan or Boris will have put bullets in both your brains. So listen up!” Vondreesen let his words hang out there for a second. Then he patted the air in a calming gesture, sending cigar ash onto the carpet.
“First, let’s get a bit of perspective. What we’re talking about, in the worst-case scenario, is driving sun bears to extinction. Right? Setting spilled milk aside, that’s the rub. Now, I’ve never seen a sun bear, and I don’t expect that I ever will, but I’d still agree that their extinction is not a good thing. However, I’ll ask you to ponder this: is it necessarily a bad thing? Does it really matter? Did you know that twenty-thousand species are near extinction, and that every single day dozens disappear forever? Granted, most of those are plants, and the sun bear is a mammal, but at the end of the day, doesn’t it boil down to survival of the fittest?”
I wanted to end him right there. Show him who was fittest. But I held it in. The animal would emerge soon enough.
“Survivors do what it takes to survive. Are you willing to exert your positions as primemates? Are you willing to do what it takes to survive? Join us and you can be a part of one of the greatest medical developments in the history of mankind, one that will help to catapult the human race forward. One that, for all we know, is just as ordained to be a part of our evolution as the printing press, lightbulb, and automobile. Or you can cry over spilled milk, and join the sun bears.” Vondreesen spread his hands, like a balance scale. Left, or right. The blue pill, or the red.
He seemed to genuinely believe the sun bear bullshit.
I studied the lit end of my cigar, blowing on it until the gray ash dispersed and the tip glowed red. The superficial radial nerve branches out from the base of the thumb just below the skin’s surface. If I could get within striking distance of Casey’s hand, I could take his trigger finger out of play in a single second. A few seconds more and I could brain them both with the moon rock. I took a puff and then met Vaughn’s eye. “You killed my family. What makes you think I can ever get past that?”
“Two simple truths. First of all, Casey and I had no idea that was going to happen. It was a business decision made and executed by a paranoid mind. A changed mind. You’ve bested five of his men since then. Squashed them like high schoolers who walked onto an NFL field. He recognizes your talent. Appreciates it. Which is why he’s sanctioned this offer.”
I looked over at Katya to see how she was faring. Her expression showed that she was aghast. “What’s the second simple truth?”
Vondreesen lit up before my eyes. His face regained color, and his voice resounded with verve. “Justice has already been served. The two guys you took out at Katya’s apartment were the same men who set you up. They were the men who reconfigured the Emerging Sea’s exhaust system to kill your family. Your mission is accomplished.”
Chapter 89
Prime-mates
VONDREESEN’S WORDS hit me with physical force. They were a blow to my operating paradigm. The men who had killed my family were already dead. I’d killed them without knowing it.
I didn’t feel any better.
A quote by Martina Navratilova popped into my mind. The moment of victory is much too short to live for that and nothing else.
Katya reached over and put her hand on my knee.
Apparently satisfied with my reaction to his revelation, Vondreesen plowed on. “This brings me to the cherry on top of our proposal. Casey can present the evidence required to prove that those men did it. His investigators actually did find video. You’ll be free and clear, wealthy and healthy, and part of the new ruling class.”
I said nothing, but sighed inside. Free and clear! Now I just needed a healthy resolution to the dead-or-alive issue.
Vondreesen resumed his pitch. “Speaking of the ruling class, it’s time for my final slide, so to speak. Ever read Plato’s Republic?”
“I think I read a few excerpts in a poli-sci class.”
“In book VI, Plato describes his version of utopia as a place ruled by the wisest among us. Philosopher-kings, he called them. Imagine it. You’ll be helping us to create Plato’s Utopia. It’s an idea that’s been 2,400 years in the making.”
I wasn’t sure how much more of this crap I could take. The cigar-ashtray combo move was looking pretty good, but a more elegant play had come to mind. “Don’t tell me you’re doing this because of some grand vision of social justice, Vaughn. This is all about greed, pure and simple.”
“Granted, self-interest may be our prime mover, but that’s Adam Smith’s invisible hand at work. Capitalism at its finest. Do you begrudge Sergey Brin and Larry Page their billions? Or are you just happy to have Google?”
“You’ve really given this a lot of thought.”
“I have. Believe me.”
“Good. Then I have a question for you.”
“I’m all ears.”
“What do you think your guests would say if you told them about the sun bears? You haven’t, have you? We heard the pitch. How would they react if they knew the cost of their brilliance?”
Vondreesen chuffed. “These aren’t vegetarians, Achilles. They’re meat eaters. Primemates. Top of the food chain.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. Most of them already know. We stopped including it in the pitch because it proved unnecessary. Nobody cared. You don’t think about the newborn calf when you order veal piccata.”
Actually, I do pass on veal for that reason. But I was pleased with Vondreesen’s pitch. It would convince some people, and probably most of the power crowd. “Okay then. Prove it. If they’re still aboard after learning the truth about Brillyanc, then Katya and I are aboard too.”
Katya gasped.
Vondreesen’s eyes narrowed. “I’m pleased to hear that. With your training, I knew that you’d be capable of putting reason over emotion, but I didn’t know if you’d be willing. How do you propose that we prove it?”
“Let’s go ask them.”
Vondreesen leaned back in his chair, studying me with his cigar dangling over the left arm and his Cognac over the right. The fall of his robe sleeve made it possible for me to see that he had something strapped to his right forearm. A weapon, most likely. “You know I won’t allow the presence of the goons to spoil the party atmosphere, so you think that will provide an opportunity to get away. It won’t. First of all, even if you could escape the castle, where would you go? We know exactly where you’ll be one week from Monday. Secondly, your attorney here is armed with more than a law license.”
“Yes. A subcompact with a silencer. I saw the silhouette. What is it, Casey? You get the Smith & Wesson, or a Glock?”
Casey withdrew the silenced sidearm from the pocket of his robe. It was a clean, controlled move. Unwavering. He was comfortable with the weapon. Clearly more Texas than California.
“A Springfield XD-S,” I said. “The 4.0. You must have custom retrofit the barrel to get the suppressor on. Nice weapon.”
Casey didn’t comment. He remained uncharacteristically quiet. Perhaps guilt had gotten his tongue. How about that, an attorney with a conscience.
I turned back to Vondreesen. “I want to make sure everyone’s still onboard once they have all the facts. You can appreciate that this isn’t something that’s naturally easy for me to get cozy with. Putting reason over emotion will take some effort. Hearing reinforcing opinions will help.”
Vondreesen took a long puff and blew the smoke out slowly before answering. “This isn’t a banquet. There is no master of ceremonies. There are no speeches. There’s not even a podium. This is just a party that reinforces the elite status of the participants while reminding them of their vested interest in maintaining secrecy.”
I began to speak, but Vondreesen held up his h
and.
“Furthermore, I’m too familiar with your background to agree with any plan you may suggest without an appropriate measure of skepticism. Katya would have to stay here. Casey will see to her comfort while we’re away.”
Katya’s grip tightened on my knee. I turned to meet her gaze. Tried to fill my eyes with confidence.
“That’s okay with me,” she said. “If that’s what it takes.”
Vondreesen tapped the burnt ash off the end of his cigar. “There’s a group of nine here tonight. Elected officials. Members of the United States Congress, in fact.”
“Your political connections,” I said, half to myself.
“They’ve been with me from the beginning. They started using Brillyanc when your father was still running the company. Back before we knew about the sun bears. Before we got so strict about anonymity. Friends who I let into the fold.”
“Why target politicians?” I asked. “Lawyers, businessmen, scientists, I get. But being a politician is all about charisma and connections. At least that’s the impression I usually get when listening to some of those idiots blathering away on C-SPAN.”
“Maybe that used to be the case. Maybe it still is in some districts for politicians who don’t aspire to the national stage. But in an era when every word that ever comes out of your mouth can become a self-destructing missile, most politicians have to be on top of their game, all the time.”
“Then there are debates and press conferences and interviews, during which the command of a tremendous array of facts can be crucial. And don’t forget about all the legislation they’re supposed to be reading. With Brillyanc in their bloodstream, these guys are actually reading the bills they debate.”
I let my reply come out slowly, deflating tension. “Okay. I can see that. What are you thinking?”
“They get their infusions together so they can caucus. As a group, they’re older than our average user by about fifteen years, and they’ve been to more parties than most, so they tend to be among the first to make their way back to the infusion room. They’re probably already there, and at this hour we’ll likely catch them before any IVs are hooked up. The solution contains a mild sedative, to make it easier to sleep with the IV in, so they won’t have the angels attach them up until they’re ready to sleep. We could go ask them to join us. They all know about the sun bears, and it will give you feedback direct from the representatives of over six million Americans. I’ll even give you the nickel tour on the way so you can see our operation in action. Would that satisfy you?”
“Yes, Vaughn. A meeting with the congressmen would be perfect.”
Chapter 90
The Tour
KATYA’S HAND was still resting on my knee. I put mine on top of hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze as Vaughn and I agreed to go fetch the nine members of congress. I could only imagine what was going through her mind.
She had said that she believed in me.
I was about to put that belief to the test.
We set our drinks and cigars aside, then donned our masks and hoods.
Vondreesen’s willingness to take me without an armed escort confirmed my suspicion that he was packing something formidable up his sleeve. Turning to Casey, he said, “We’ll be back in ten. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
Casey nodded.
Vondreesen gestured me forward. “We’re going back the way we came.” He wasn’t going to let me get behind him. Smart move.
At the bottom of the circular stairs, the Raphael door opened before us as if by magic, revealing the hidden staircase.
“RFID, right?” I asked as we descended. “I bet you can track everyone in real time on that tablet of yours, using their numbers. That’s why Boris and Ivan referred to Katya and me as 205 and 204, isn’t it?”
“I take advantage of technology when I can.”
Vondreesen guided me past a number of red LEDs and stopped us before one that had just turned green. The significance of the color donned on me. Green meant the room was empty, or at least devoid of motion. The light emitting diodes made it possible to know if you could enter a room without being seen. Nice little parlor trick, quite literally in this case.
We passed through a series of sitting rooms, some in use, others not. About a third of the occupied rooms resembled cocktail hour at an exclusive members-only club. Distilled spirits, fat cigars, and lively debate on how best to master the universe. The rest were in use by groups who had shed everything but their masks. “People tend to start in twosomes, and move on to larger and larger groups as the night progresses,” Vondreesen commented. “Like most of human nature, it’s pretty predictable.”
Eventually we entered the main room, where Burning Man was dancing. I looked up again, but even with the lights on in the library I still couldn’t tell it was there. The big doorway at the back of the main room was open now, revealing a chamber lit by more than candle power. I headed toward it without prompting.
As we walked, Vondreesen began bragging. “We modeled the infusion room pods after the first-class accommodations on transoceanic jets. Each offers a broad leather chair that goes from fully flat, to seated, to any position in between. Along with a state-of-the-art entertainment system. We call it a flight instead of an infusion. Helps our jet-set clients put things in a familiar perspective.”
“How many pods do you have?”
“Three hundred thirty-six. Enough that we could eventually handle a thousand clients by servicing one group a month, on a quarterly rotation. The way that averages out, it would make this location worth a million dollars a day.”
Now there’s a killer motive. “That’s not bad, for a pension. Did you choose the winery for camouflage?”
“Exactly. With an estate like this, large parties with limousines coming and going are expected. That’s something we think about when picking locations. I must admit, personal preference also played a role — picking Napa, I mean. Not a castle. At one time or another, every Silicon Valley executive thinks about retiring to a winery.”
As we passed through the doorway, Vondreesen gestured dramatically. “Welcome to the flight zone. You can see that everyone flies first class.” His voice resonated with pride. To give credit where due, it was an impressive sight. The room did resemble the first-class cabin on a Boing 777, but was much larger, since all the passengers were ‘up front.’
We made our way toward a back corner, where the pods had been rearranged into a circular configuration like tick marks on a watch face. Vondreesen reached out and grabbed my arm. “Would you recognize any member of Congress from a western state? I believe you’re still registered to vote in North Carolina, not that most people would even recognize their own congressmen.”
I pondered that for a sec. “I’d recognize Daniels. He was a California senator before moving on to the vice presidency. Now he presides over the senate. Not sure if that counts?”
“Well, I suppose it really doesn’t matter. The point is that despite the masks, you’re likely to recognize some of the people you’re about to meet. I want to be sure you’re completely aware of the implications of learning their identities?”
I understood Vondreesen’s question for what it was. He was preemptively trying to assuage his guilt over killing me, should it come to that. He was shifting the decision onto my shoulders. I wasn’t in the mood to lighten his load. “My understanding is that you’ll kill me if I don’t join you, regardless.”
Vondreesen frowned. “Very well then. I’m glad we have that understanding.”
Chapter 91
In the Balance
WE WALKED INTO the midst of the circular configuration. Nine pods were occupied, as advertised. One sat empty, like a dinner plate set in reverence for a loved one who had died. A lively discussion ground to a halt, and we found ourselves under the scrutiny of nine pairs of intelligent eyes.
“Pardon the intrusion,” Vondreesen said, his British accent on full display. He was the gracious host again. He’d snapped
back into that role like a turtle into a shell, and now he appeared bulletproof. “Allow me to introduce Kyle Achilles. He’s brought us a bit of a special situation. One that would benefit greatly from your sage counsel. A question of ethics. Could I trouble you to join us upstairs in the library for a few minutes?”
A woman replied with a voice resembling the jazz singer I’d liked at Off the Record. She was probably in her early seventies but looked to be in her late forties. A vivacious face framed by chestnut hair so perfectly highlighted and coiffed that you’d swear she was headed for a national television appearance after paying some uber-stylist a thousand bucks. To my surprise, I recognized her. She was the one Kilpatrick said the DA consulted while covering her ass. The one who chaired a committee that oversaw CIA-related issues. Senator Colleen Collins. “We were having an ethical discussion of our own,” Collins said. “It wasn’t going particularly well. A side discussion might actually help to shake things loose.”
To her right, a fit blonde man with a permanent tan flashed a twenty-tooth smile. “It’s going to take a lot of shaking to loosen her up. But I’m game.”
“Thank you,” Vondreesen said.
As they rose, I got the impression that this was a group of friendly rivals — at least while the cameras weren’t recording.
Vondreesen led us through one of his secret doors at the back of the room, avoiding a procession past other guests. He greeted each member individually as they entered the hidden corridor, and joked about burning off the banquet calories as we climbed the stairs, keeping the atmosphere light. The man really was a master of manipulation.
I was relieved to find Katya looking composed as we entered the library.
Casey’s dour expression hadn’t changed, but the room had. He’d rearranged the chairs to create a mini-amphitheater, and now sat in the corner with Katya.
Vondreesen led me to center stage while the Congressmen took their seats. With the flames behind me and the mob in front, it felt like the Salem Witch Trials.
