by Andrew Lane
‘Mom!’ she called out, her voice muffled by the duvet. ‘It’s your phone!’
‘Can you answer it?’ a voice called back from the bathroom.
Natalie sighed. She reached out from her position and felt about blindly until her fingers curled round it just as it rang again, sending vibrations through her hand.
‘Yeah?’ she said into it.
‘Professor Livingstone?’ The voice was familiar: male, young, tentative.
‘No, sorry, she can’t come to the phone right now.’ She put on an exaggerated Personal Assistant voice. ‘Can I take a message?’
‘Er, yeah. It’s Calum. Calum Challenger.’
She suddenly connected the voice with the boy she’d met earlier: the one with the absurdly broad shoulders and the stupidly floppy hair, the boy who was obviously crippled but didn’t want to use a wheelchair – which she could totally sympathize with.
She turned over so that her voice wasn’t muffled by her face-down position. ‘Oh, hi – it’s Natalie.’
‘Hi, Natalie. How are you?’
She looked around. The hotel room was four-star, of course, but it was a hotel room, just like any other. Only the view through the window changed. From here she could, if she bothered going across to the window, see down on to Regent’s Park. Apparently there was a zoo in Regent’s Park – at least that’s what her mom had said. Natalie had replied that if she wanted to go to a zoo then she’d magically turn herself back into a six-year-old. Her mom had snapped back that Natalie often acted like a six-year-old, and they had argued until her mom had thrown her hands up in the air and said, ‘I haven’t got time for this. I’m going to have a bath. Don’t leave the room.’
‘Oh, I’m just peachy,’ she said.
‘Professor Livingstone cramping your style?’ he asked.
‘Like you wouldn’t believe. You don’t know how lucky you are.’ She realized what she was saying just as the words were coming out of her mouth, and if she could have swallowed them back up she would have done. ‘Jeez, sorry. I didn’t mean . . .’
‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘I’ve got used to people saying things without thinking. In a way, that’s probably better than them trying to avoid the subject altogether.’
‘Who is it?’ Natalie’s mom called from the bathroom.
‘It’s Calum!’ Natalie shouted back.
‘Calum Challenger?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Ask him what he wants. Is everything OK?’
‘She’s asking what you want,’ Natalie said into the phone. She ran a hand through her hair.
‘That’s a tricky one. Is there any chance she can ring me back?’
‘I doubt it. She’s likely to stay in there until her skin gets all wrinkly, then she’s going to spend half an hour and use an entire tub of moisturizer to make it all unwrinkly again. And then she’s going out to dinner with a bunch of men in suits with dandruff on their shoulders while I get to spend the evening alone apart from room service and whatever movies the hotel’s entertainment system will allow me to watch.’ For a crazy moment she thought about inviting Calum over to hang out for a while, but just for a moment. She already knew how much effort it took for him to move around his own apartment. God knew how he would be able to get across London to the hotel.
‘Sounds like fun.’ A pause while he obviously considered his options. ‘OK, can you ask her two questions?’
‘Sure.’
‘First question – if I give her a sample of DNA, would she be able to get its entire genome sequenced and analysed for me?’
That was not the kind of question Natalie had been expecting. ‘Uh, right. let me ask.’ She moved the phone away from her mouth and yelled, ‘Mom, Calum wants to know if you can sequence a genome for him.’
A long silence, then: ‘Why?’ her mom called back.
‘Just “because”, I guess.’ She brought the phone back to her face. ‘Did you hear that?’
‘I did. Good answer.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Tell her that I might be able to get my hands on a DNA sequence from a previously unknown animal, and I want to evaluate it for genes that might be useful, but I don’t want some big corporation to do it. I want a university to have a crack, so that the results are available to everyone.’
‘Oh. OK.’ She moved the phone away again and called out: ‘I was right – he says “just because”.’
‘I very much doubt that’s actually what he said,’ her mom’s voice called back, ‘but yes, in principle, I can get it done.’
‘She says yes,’ Natalie relayed back. ‘What’s the second question?’
‘Can she recommend someone who can act as a guide in the south-eastern area of Europe, specifically Georgia?’
Taking a deep breath, Natalie relayed the question.
‘Intriguing question. Tell Calum that there’s a man I’ve used before as an expedition guide to remote areas of the world. He’s ex-Special Forces. I know he’s visited that area of Europe. I can get him to give Calum a call, if that would be OK – as long as Calum promises to tell me what exactly he’s up to.’
‘That’s brilliant,’ Calum said as Natalie put the phone back to her ear. He’d obviously picked up the answer. ‘What’s his name?’
‘What’s his name?’ Natalie called out.
‘Gillis,’ her mom shouted. ‘I don’t know his first name, but everyone calls him “Rhino”.’
‘Sounds like a fun kinda guy,’ Natalie responded, although she wasn’t sure whether she was talking to her mom or to Calum.
‘You know, your mother is pretty amazing,’ Calum said on the phone.
‘I guess. Was there anything else you wanted?’
‘No. Oh, wait – yes, there is.’ Calum paused for a moment. Natalie got the impression that he was trying to phrase a question in the right way. ‘Can you ask her if she knows about a company called Nemor Incorporated?’
‘Mom – Calum wants to know if you’ve heard of a company called Nemor Incorporated.’
Natalie suddenly heard a lot of splashing from the bathroom. A few seconds later her mother appeared, wrapping herself in a towel. The expression on her face was . . . concerned? Angry? Maybe a combination of both.
Gillian Livingstone snatched the phone from her daughter’s hand.
‘Calum – this is Gillian. We need to talk. I’ve got a dinner tonight that I can’t miss, so we’ll be over at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.’
A pause while Calum obviously said something.
‘Very well, after lunch then. Give your great-aunt my regards. And, Calum – don’t do anything between now and then.’
She ended the call and stared out of the window.
‘What has he got himself into this time?’ she muttered, as if Natalie wasn’t there.
CHAPTER
six
Sunrise was shining horizontally across the city when Calum woke up. It cast the canyons between the buildings into deep shadow but caught the tops of those same buildings with rosy highlights.
Calum didn’t need an alarm. Whatever time he told himself to wake up just before settling down to sleep, that’s the time his eyes opened.
For a few minutes he lay in bed, letting the vague ghosts of his dreams fade away. He felt vaguely sad. He had dreamed about running again. He could still remember the sensation of rushing through a field of wheat, letting the tall stems thrash against his body and the wind push his hair back from his forehead. He could still feel the impact of his feet against the soft soil.
Those were feelings that he might never experience again, unless he could somehow cure the paralysis that had affected his legs since the car crash. He knew the odds of the Almasti’s genetic structure containing the answer were slim, but it was a start. If not the Almasti, then some other unknown inhabitant of planet Earth’s more remote regions would hold the answer. He was sure of it.
And that meant there was something he had to do.
He pulled himself to a sitting positi
on and reached for his mobile phone. He pressed the number 1 and held it down until the phone dredged a telephone number from its memory.
‘Yes?’ a deep voice said.
‘Mr Macfarlane – it’s Calum Challenger. Sorry to trouble you. Could I have the car round as soon as possible?’
‘Of course, sir,’ Macfarlane’s voice said. He didn’t even sound surprised, even though Calum hadn’t spoken to him for months. ‘It’s no trouble at all. I take it you will be visiting your great-aunt?’
‘That’s correct.’
‘Will you be needing the—’
‘Yes,’ Calum interrupted. He didn’t like hearing the word. ‘Bring it. You know the code to get in.’
‘I do, sir. I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.’ A dialling tone replaced his voice.
Calum put the mobile back on his bedside cabinet. He pulled himself out of bed and swung across the apartment to the bathroom. Thirty minutes later he was showered and dressed, and preparing breakfast.
Forty-four minutes and fifty seconds after he had put the phone down he heard the bell of his front door chime. ‘Come in!’ he yelled. Whoever was outside typed a set of numbers into the security system, and the door opened.
‘Good morning, sir,’ said the man standing in the doorway. ‘It’s good to see you again.’ He was short – very short – and bald, and he wore a three-piece suit that had obviously either been made to measure for him or had originally been intended for a chunky twelve-year-old attending a bar mitzvah or acting as a pageboy at his sister’s wedding. His deep voice was completely at odds with his size.
And he was pushing a wheelchair in front of him.
‘Good morning, Mr Macfarlane,’ Calum responded. The sight of the wheelchair provoked a sinking feeling in his stomach. He hated it. He hated everything that it represented. The trouble was that the world outside the walls of his apartment was not designed for him. There were no straps hanging from ceilings, and no convenient places to lean, or to sit. That’s why he didn’t leave his apartment if he could possibly help it.
The trouble was that Merrily Challenger – his father’s aunt – didn’t like Skype, or any form of conversation that didn’t take place with two people in a room together. Preferably with a pot of tea and a plate of cakes.
‘Are you ready, sir?’ Macfarlane enquired.
‘I suppose,’ he grunted.
He pulled himself to his feet and swung across to the door. Reluctantly he lowered himself into the wheelchair. ‘Let’s go,’ he sighed.
As the door closed behind them, and as Macfarlane pressed the button to call the lift, Calum listened out for the clunk as the security system locked the door behind them, and the beep as the alarm activated. That should keep everything safe until Gecko returned to repair the skylight.
As the two of them descended in the lift, Calum found himself wondering why it was that he had taken to Gecko so quickly. Gecko and Tara. The three of them seemed to fit together in some fundamentally simple way, as if they were parts of some greater whole and had been seeking each other out without realizing it. He felt comfortable with them. Relaxed. And that wasn’t a feeling he normally got around other people. Neither of them appeared to pity him because of his paralysis. In fact, they both seemed to hardly notice it, which was the way he liked it.
Other people had tried to make friends with him since the accident – befriending him on Facebook, or ‘accidentally’ bumping into him on those rare occasions when he went out, but he knew what they really wanted. It was obvious. His parents had left him a considerable fortune in their will – money that Great-Aunt Merrily was looking after for him. One day soon he would inherit that money, and he would suddenly appear on various lists of the richest people in the country. Money attracted friends like sugar attracted wasps. He could see through them, and he avoided them. He would prefer to be without friends than to have friends who were keeping one eye on the calendar, waiting for him to inherit. But Gecko had fallen into his life – literally – in a way that was so dangerous, so liable to have caused a serious injury, that it had to be accidental. And Tara had arrived almost by accident as well – nobody could have anticipated that Calum would have sent someone looking for her when she attempted to hack his website, and nobody could have anticipated that Gecko would bring her back to Calum’s apartment rather than watch her to find out what she was trying to do. No, it would take a conspiracy of massive and convoluted proportions to arrange for the two of them to arrive in his life at the same time. It had to have been coincidence, which is why he had trusted them so quickly.
The two of them had left shortly after he had spoken to Professor Livingstone, the night before. They had both been reluctant to leave. Gecko said that he was going to sleep at a friend’s place, and Tara had said that she was going to take the almost unheard-of step of switching her computer off. The second from last thing that Calum had said to them was: Be back here at lunchtime tomorrow. The last thing that he had said to them was: Bring your passports.
The doors of the lift opened and Macfarlane pushed Calum out of the building.
His great-aunt’s car was parked just outside the warehouse. It was a Bentley SUV – one of a few demonstration models that the company had built with a view to moving into a new area of luxury car design. It also had a hybrid petrol/electrical engine – Calum’s great-aunt had wanted one of the test models with the standard V12 engine, but Calum had persuaded her that a hybrid engine was better for the planet.
Macfarlane moved the wheelchair beside the Bentley and opened the rear door. He moved away and fussed with the boot while Calum laboriously levered himself out of the wheelchair and into the car. His great-aunt’s chauffeur knew, from long experience, that Calum did not like to be helped, or even watched.
When Calum was seated in the back of the Bentley, Macfarlane folded up the wheelchair and stowed it in the boot. He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
‘Would you like some music, sir, or would you prefer silence?’
‘Music,’ Calum responded curtly.
‘Anything in particular, sir? I have been transferring quite a number of albums on to my MP3 player.’
He thought back to Tara, the night before. ‘I don’t suppose you have anything emo, darkwave or post-rock?’
Macfarlane considered for a moment. ‘I have King Black Acid, Dead Can Dance and Mogwai. Which would you prefer?’
‘Surprise me.’
The car started, purring away from the kerb, and music began playing: an instrumental wash of guitars, drums and vocals that somehow made it sound as if the music was being played underwater. Macfarlane took them down several streets that seemed too narrow for the SUV and then pulled out on to a wider road that led out of London. Calum leaned back into the luxury of the leather seats and relaxed.
Great-Aunt Merrily’s house was an imposing building on the edge of Richmond Park. It was built of a reddish stone. The view from the front door was one of carefully manicured lawns and ordered trees. Once upon a time those lawns would have been the house’s own grounds, but now it was a public park. Great-Aunt Merrily still had some influence, however, and there was a boundary fence around the house to stop people just wandering in on the assumption that it was a tea room or a gift shop.
Macfarlane slowed to a halt on the gravel drive outside the house. He retrieved the wheelchair from the boot, then opened the rear door to the SUV and waited, looking off into the distance, while Calum manoeuvred himself into it. The chauffeur then struggled to push the wheelchair across the gravel, causing a sound like a torrent of rain hitting the surface of a river, and leaving two deep V-shaped tracks leading from the car to the front door.
A wooden ramp had been built from the drive to the front porch, taking up a quarter of the stone stairs that had been there for several hundred years. Macfarlane manfully pushed Calum up to the top, then through the doorway into the relative coolness of the house.
‘I’ll leave you in the sitt
ing room, sir. Your great-aunt will be down in a moment.’
‘I presume you told her that I was coming?’
‘As soon as I received your phone call, sir. I wouldn’t have wanted to surprise her. I know how much she looks forward to your visits.’
True to his word, Macfarlane wheeled Calum into a room that was crammed with old furniture and older paintings, then quietly withdrew. Calum levered himself out of the wheelchair and on to one of the sofas. He considered trying to fold the wheelchair up and hide it behind the sofa, but he decided that an action like that would be trying to take a point too far.
After five minutes or so his Great-Aunt Merrily entered the room.
As usual, she was in a rush. She always seemed to be moving from one place to another at speed. Calum wasn’t sure that he had ever seen her settle down or relax. She was a small, delicate woman, and today she wore a startlingly modern blue silk blouse and a green skirt. She reminded him of a hummingbird – seemingly in motion even when she was standing still.
‘Calum!’ she exclaimed. ‘How delightful. You should have given me some warning – I would have prepared a meal. Or maybe baked a cake. Are you staying?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ he said.
‘Let me look at you.’
He threw his arms wide. ‘Here I am.’
‘You’ve lost weight. Are you eating properly?’
He recalled the pizzas he’d ordered the night before for himself, Tara and Gecko. ‘Yes, I am,’ he said.
‘Good. It’s so easy to slip into eating junk food these days.’
‘Although having your own cook is a good way to avoid the temptation,’ he pointed out. As his great-aunt frowned, he added, ‘I saw Gillian Livingstone yesterday.’
‘Oh, did you?’ His great-aunt sniffed audibly. ‘And how was she?’
‘Still working as hard as ever. She’s coming over this afternoon as well – that’s why I have to get back.’
‘If she had a man in her life, she wouldn’t need to work so hard. And what about that daughter of hers?’
‘Natalie?’ Calum felt himself blushing. He couldn’t help it. ‘Yes,’ he said casually, ‘she was there too.’
