“How do I know they’re safe?”
“Martina. Need you ask?”
She said nothing to this.
“Very well,” said Fritz, rolling up his sleeve. “Inject me with one of them. Pick whichever you like. That will still leave you with three vials—enough for a full year’s health for one person, or four months health for three.”
Fritz was serious. He was going to allow her to shove a needle of whatever was in the vials into his veins.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. Her eyes narrowed. “Inject me instead. For all I know, there is a poison inside to which you have developed immunity.”
Fritz smiled. It was a different sort of smile than any she’d seen before. “You, my dear, are clever. Quite clever. You understand your value to me and that I would not wish to lose you, should the vials, indeed, contain dangerous substances. Very well. I will inject you instead, so that you may rest assured regarding the safety of what is inside.”
Martina held her arm at the ready, half expecting Fritz to refuse to inject her after all, because it was poison. But he didn’t refuse. He tapped her forearm, seeking a vein. She made a fist, mentally rolling her eyes at herself for making anything easier for Fritz.
As he filled a syringe (which he just happened to keep in his pockets), he spoke softly. “You know, my dear, I very much suspect your brothers are in dire need of this cure. Even if they remained in chameleon form for most of each day, their bodies are surely suffering by now.”
What he said was true, but Martina gave no indication she knew it.
“They will find my remedy to be more fast-acting than that with which Pfeffer doses you. I have made improvements in the way it is delivered as well as the length of protection it offers.”
“I’ll be sure to tell my brothers,” said Martina.
“Yes. Do. And consider this—were you to come and work for Uncle Fritz, you, too, would have access to this improved medication.”
Martina’s answer was cold and quiet. “As if I would work for you.”
Fritz shrugged. “Never say never, my dear. Well, there you are. Do you feel liable to fall down dead at the moment?”
Placing a tissue over the injection site, Martina shook her head. “I feel fine.”
“And you will be fine an additional few months beyond normal.” Fritz stood to depart. “Ah. One more thing, my dear. Do not try to do anything foolish. I might … drop by to listen in on what you are up to, you know. Just like the old days.” The smile that crossed his face now was leering, crude.
Martina felt every muscle in her body tense. The children had never known who might be watching when they were small. She knew she could count on Fritz spying on her.
“How kind of you to remind me,” she said, dryly.
“Oh, I didn’t remind you in order to be kind,” replied Fritz.
As if she didn’t know.
He vanished without saying anything further.
“Good riddance,” she muttered, hoping he had chosen to stick around long enough to hear it.
Martina’s eyes drifted down to the four vials on her kitchen table, one empty, three full. “They’re real,” she murmured.
If they were real, what, exactly, was she going to do about it?
The next half hour dragged by with inexorable slowness. She stared at the tablet—Fritz had left it so she could talk to Matteo—and then she tapped around to see what else might be stored on it.
Nothing.
He’d purchased it solely for the purpose of showing Martina the picture of Matteo, injured. She prayed the promised minute of video chat was a lie—that Fritz hadn’t actually captured Matteo, hadn’t actually beaten him. Her heart was racing as the final minutes ticked slowly past.
And then, exactly one hour after he’d vanished, Fritz appeared upon the tiny screen.
“Hello, my dear. You are there, yes?”
Martina accepted the incoming video chat.
“Silent, I see. What a rare and lovely thing in the female of the species. One minute of conversation. As promised. Don’t waste it asking him where he is to be found—he doesn’t know.” Fritz laughed softly to himself and re-oriented his device to capture Matteo.
It was true, then. Martina’s face twisted in anguish. Matteo looked worse. The clinical worker within her told her this was to be expected, this was the normal progression of blunt force trauma.
“Matt-eo,” she moaned. “Are you all right?”
He attempted to smile, but stopped, wincing with pain. “About a thousand percent better now,” he said.
“You were always horrible at math,” she murmured. “Is he feeding you? Mistreating you? I mean, any more than already?” She was asking foolish questions. She was wasting precious time.
“I’m not really hungry. And the abuse stopped as soon as he got what he wanted—a needle in my arm.” Matteo attempted to laugh, but winced from that attempt as well. “I’m fine, Martina.” A pause. “It’s really good to see you. How are you?”
She was horrible. She was in agony. She’d never felt so helpless, not even when Katrin had been taken away. “Fine,” she lied. She followed the lie with a smile.
“Twenty seconds left, my dears,” said Fritz, a disembodied voice.
“Where am I, anyway?” Matteo asked.
“Nice, France,” said Martina, hurriedly, before Fritz could forbid her answering. “Or thereabouts.”
“It smells good here,” said Matteo. “Like lavender.”
Martina’s throat felt choked. That was Matteo’s scent.
“See if you can get some to chew on and make a poultice,” she said. “It’s slightly medicinal—”
The camera jumped, showing Fritz once more. “Time’s up, my dear.”
She hadn’t even said she was sorry for how they’d parted.
“You have two hours to get back to me about those brothers of yours. I shall spend the time thinking which parts of Matteo would respond most dramatically to additional punishment while—”
Martina tapped the “end conversation” button. She wasn’t going to let him watch her while he gloated, the disgusting rodent.
28
A TANGIBLE BENEFIT
Nice, France
Hansel and Georg for Matteo.
That’s what she was considering. And the problem was, she would do it. She would exchange her reckless siblings for Matteo in a heartbeat. Except that she couldn’t live with herself if she did it. So she had to tell them, Hansel and Georg, and plead that, for Matteo’s sake, they would agree to meet with Fritz.
Martina’s bitter laugh echoed in the empty apartment. Hansel and Georg willingly meeting with their dear Uncle Fritz after they’d betrayed him was about as likely as Fritz deciding to devote the remainder of his days to acts of contrition. Not going to happen.
Or could it? Could she talk them into it?
Martina paced in the tiny apartment. Hansel and Georg had played with Matteo as children. Helmann made sure the distinction between mere compound laborers such as Matteo and members of the elite Angel Corps was strictly maintained. But surely Hansel, at least, retained affectionate memories of Matteo. Well, before he’d run away, breaking Martina’s heart.
She sank onto her couch. Hansel had been the one among the siblings to whom Martina poured out her heart after Matteo broke it. But surely, if she explained things to him, or asked him to trust her that she’d had a change of heart….
But the real problem was this: she was having a hard time imagining her siblings agreeing to do anything dangerous that didn’t offer them a clear and direct benefit. As children, they’d eagerly risked life and limb during various trainings overseen by Dr. Helmann. But something had changed—had snapped—inside both of them after they’d learned the truth about Helmann. The truth about what they’d been born to do. Ever since February, Martina had felt in her brothers a hardness, a resistance to do anything, however compassionate, that did not offer them a clear, tangible benefit.
No. She had a better way to hide them. And to protect them from temperature variations. Martina smiled and became invisible, taking the vials with her. She set them carefully on top of the refrigerator. Tomorrow evening, she would offer the drug to her brothers in exchange for their promise to speak with Fritz.
It wasn’t even that dangerous of a proposition, from her brothers’ perspective. Hansel and Georg were fast at getting away to invisibility. Helmann had made sure they were all fast. She shuddered remembering some of the more distasteful training exercises involving needles or snakes or beetles. Well, it had made them fast, at least.
As she could point out when they spoke.
Very well. She would arrange it. It would work. Somehow. Because it had to.
For a moment, Martina was puzzled: how was she supposed to contact Fritz? But then she remembered the tablet. Of course.
She sat at the table and tapped the screen, grateful she’d had several months practice on similar screens at the clinics in Montpellier and Nice. She located the app Fritz had used for the precious one minute conversation with Matteo. Sure enough, a contact had already been created for “Uncle Fritz.” Martina’s mouth twisted in disgust. She relabeled the contact: Dr. Fritz Gottlieb. And then she requested a video chat.
Fritz answered at once.
“Well?”
His voice had an angry edge to it compared to the last time they had spoken. Matteo must have been doing something to irritate Fritz. Martina bit her lower lip and then forced herself to stop. Her expression was visible to Fritz. She would not display weakness.
“I will arrange for a meeting.”
“You haven’t done so already?” asked Fritz.
“I can’t. I’m not expecting to see my brothers for another day and a half.”
Fritz frowned. He’d not foreseen this, apparently. He must have supposed the three siblings to be in constant communication. It felt good to know Fritz wasn’t infallible.
“Very well. Shall we say 10:00 at night, the evening after tomorrow? I will send you the directions to a nearby meeting place.”
Martina nodded. If her brothers were going to say yes at all, they could meet “nearby” at 10:00. “Bring Matteo. Or the whole thing is off.”
“Very well. Have you any other requests? Ice cream? A pony?”
Martina’s face flushed with anger. Fritz had always enjoyed taunting the children far more than did any of the others who visited the compounds through the years.
“See that Matteo’s injuries are treated. I didn’t like the look of his left eye.”
Fritz’s lips pulled back over his straight, white teeth. “Some of my finer work, that left eye.”
“You will treat him, Doctor,” said Martina, in as forceful a tone as she could manage. “Think about your oath, at least. First: do no harm.”
“Oh, but my dear, didn’t you know? I’m not that kind of doctor.”
With that, Fritz canceled the communication.
Martina wanted to throw the tablet across the room. Correction: she wanted to throw Fritz across the room. The tablet, she would need. She paced and swore until some of her rage was spent. And then she began composing an argument with which to persuade her brothers to meet with someone they’d been eager to avoid the past three months.
Dr. Pfeffer paid a visit in the evening, asking how she was doing.
“Fine,” she lied. Fine, fine, fine.
“They’re expecting you at the clinic tomorrow. Should I tell them you need … more rest?” Evidently, Pfeffer wasn’t buying her lies.
“No. I really want to work tomorrow.” This was true. She would go crazy if she had to spend tomorrow with nothing to do. Her volunteer hours would make the time pass quickly. Bring her back to Matteo more quickly.
Pfeffer tipped his head to one side. “You are certain that you are well?”
Martina kept her eyes glued to the window, watching her neighbors watching television next door.
“Martina, are you sure there is nothing I can do for you?”
Oh, but she wanted to say yes! Yes, would you please find and eliminate Fritz from the gene pool? Yes, would you convince my brothers to speak with Fritz? Yes, would you just stand beside me and make everything turn out okay tomorrow?
But she couldn’t. Pfeffer would never agree to negotiate with Fritz. Or, he would drag de Rochefort into it, wasting precious time. Martina shivered. Matteo’s life was at stake. She liked Pfeffer, but she was done trusting people she liked. She would do this alone.
“There’s nothing you can do,” replied Martina. “It is kind of you to ask. Thank you.”
He nodded, curtly. And then he was at the door, mentioning a visit to friends in California. Martina smiled and nodded.
Au revoir; au revoir.
And then he was gone.
Now she was alone with only her dark thoughts of what Matteo might be doing or suffering. She slept badly. The next day she focused on her patients, on her stories, on the passing of each hour. At last, it was six o’clock and she was free to depart.
Hansel and Georg were waiting at home. Wanting things from her.
But this time, she wanted something from them as well.
29
NAME YOUR PRICE
Nice, France
As soon as Martina turned invisible, she went to the refrigerator to make certain the vials were still there. They were.
Martina, you’re back. That was Hansel.
Allo. That was Georg. Georg found it extremely challenging to converse. He didn’t hear all that well in caméléon form. He’d had to work hard to learn to keep his thoughts to himself, as well, and he didn’t always make the effort.
You must mean to help us, then, yes? Hansel, again.
Martina spoke carefully. I want something in return.
Yes, yes. Anything at all. The keys to a very fast car? A diamond necklace? A fake passport?
Martina raised one invisible brow at the mention of a passport. I don’t want a passport. Pfeffer already gave me one.
Pfeffer did what? Hansel’s shock was evident.
Listen, replied Martina, there isn’t much time. I said I wanted you to do something for me. I have the enzyme you need. If you agree to help me, I will immediately medicate one of you. You will have to decide who.
Hansel’s surprise was evident. You obtained the enzyme already? But, how wonderful! What do you wish in return? Name it! Georg and I are feeling magnanimous, are we not?
There was a grunting noise, which Martina supposed must be Georg, assenting. He wasn’t making much of an effort. Martina felt worried. Would he agree? What if only one of them agreed to meet Fritz? Would one brother satisfy her uncle?
Name your price, Martina! We’ll get you anything.
She wondered. Well, the question had to be asked. I want you to agree to speak with … Uncle Fritz.
If she thought calling him by this name might evoke more pleasant memories, she was wrong.
He’s not my uncle, declared Georg.
Martina, I don’t think that is going to happen, added Hansel.
She felt a ripple of anger pass through her. She had to convince them. Listen, Pfeffer let me go to visit Mutti last week, only she had died before I arrived—
Mutti is dead?
Martina felt a wash of regret from Hansel. From Georg, she felt and heard nothing.
Yes, replied Martina.
I’m so sorry to hear that.
Yes, yes, said Martina. She couldn’t think about Mutti right now. But the important thing is that I met Matte
o and the only reason he left us two years ago was that Helmann was planning to have him killed that night if he stayed and now Fritz has taken Matteo and tortured him and he says he’ll do worse unless I convince you both to speak with him.
That’s horrible, said Hansel.
Yes, replied Martina. Fritz wants to speak to you or he will do something horrible to Matteo. I think he’ll kill him. She hesitated. She wanted to say, “And that would kill me.” But she didn’t. I won’t help you unless you help Matteo.
Martina, said Hansel. We have nothing to say to Fritz. He was willing to place Georg and myself in a very dangerous situation with Waldhart de Rochefort. It is clear Fritz has no regard for our safety.
Georg added, Or our lives.
We thought you did, Martina. That was Hansel. His voice was sad. Hurt. We’re your brothers.
And Matteo is my … friend. I won’t let Fritz harm him.
Hansel spoke again. I don’t think you have much choice. We don’t want to talk to Fritz.
I do have a choice, said Martina. If you won’t help Matteo, then you can’t have the enzyme.
Georg made an effort to join the conversation. We could always meet Fritz and then vanish as soon as Martina has Matteo.
Hansel countered. It’s never just talking with Fritz. You know that. He’ll find a way to leverage the situation.
Was Georg the more willing of the two to be persuaded? Or was he just the more desperate of the two, having fallen ill first?
Hansel spoke again. Martina, can you give us a minute? Alone?
He was asking her to solidify so that she wouldn’t be able to overhear their conversation.
Okay, said Martina, checking the time. You can have ten minutes to talk. But my offer for the enzymes expires after that. Come find me in my room when you’re done … conferring. You remember how?
We give you the cold shoulder.
Immutable Page 14
