She bumped past us into the living room. Merry and I exchanged a look.
I couldn't think of anything better than to feed my growling stomach, so I started one of the refrigerated prepared meals cooking in the microwave. I also grabbed a beer. Screw it. My mom raised an eyebrow and I braced myself for her usual censure, but then she said: "Give me one of those, too."
So I did. She used it to wash down a Melatin capsule. Meredith poured another cup of coffee for herself.
"Did you guys say anything about Chrissie to anyone?" I asked.
"We told the security people after you'd run off," said Meredith. "I don't know what they've done about it. I assume she'll end up in the auditorium after they find her."
"That's where they'd put me, too, if either of you told them about what just happened," said my mom.
"Mmmm," said Meredith. I stayed mum.
"Do you intend to tell Dr. Joyce about me?"
I wouldn't say my mom looked hostile, exactly, but her gaze had gone flat and flinty and calculating, like a criminal in an interrogation room or something. Not an expression I'd ever associate with her.
The doorbell rang. Saved by the bell, I thought, jumping up to see who our savior or executioner was. Peering out the peephole, I wasn't sure. Max Emanuel, former FDA Commissioner turned CE Chief Propaganda Officer, Miriam White, Martha Eberhart, and my new friend, Joshua Brightman. A definite mixed bag, I thought.
I let them in. Max was wearing a pasted-on smile, but Josh, Martha, and Miriam White looked like prisoners walking a gang plank. Josh muttered "Hey, dude," and gave me a hangdog look on the way into the living room. Martha's eyes were regretful when they met mine but layered within her traditional glacial chill. I didn't have a good feeling about this meeting.
After exchanging muted greetings, Max Emanuel said, "We came here basically to see where everyone's at and to discuss how to be deal with our little setback here moving forward."
"Little setback?" said Meredith.
"We've got some people who didn't react well to the drug. Not the best result, but not the end of the world, either." When no one responded, Max spread out his arms. "Can we sit and talk about this for a minute? I could certainly use your input, Alyssa."
We sat. I took a chair at one end of the room, hoping for some distance from whatever was about to unfold.
"Did you ever find Chrissie Hayashi?" Meredith asked.
"No, not yet," said Max, with a small edge of irritation. "She must've wandered off somewhere. Unfortunate, but she won't get far, I'm sure."
"I'd like to have all the blood work and information from tests you've done on your female guests to be transferred back to my lab," said my mom. "Ideally, I'd want to perform tests myself on some of the women – and comparative tests on the bonobos."
"I think that can be arranged. First, I'd need to confirm that we're all on the same page, however."
"What page is that?" Meredith asked.
"The page where we all work together to minimize the fallout."
That begged a number of questions, but I could tell no one was eager to ask them. I knew I wasn't. I guessed we wouldn't like the answers.
"I'm sure you all know the saying that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas," said Max. "That applies doubly here. We've prepared a cover story which Dr. Eberhart will hand out shortly. The gist is that food poisoning involving an exotic species of ergot which induced hallucinations and other aberrant behavior. Reprise was not involved and in fact was never dispensed to the guests."
I stared at him in disbelief. My mom and Meredith didn't look all that disbelieving – just disgusted.
"You think you can maintain that story?" my mom asked.
"I believe we can, barring unpredictable unfortunate circumstances. Everyone here is non-disclosured up the wazoo and legal waivers for damage were signed by all those affected. Our CDC associate here, Andrea Joyce – and her boss, my good friend Director James Phillips – will sign off on the cover story. It will be the official account. All our male guests" – he glanced at Josh, who had the good grace to shift his weight uncomfortably – "have agreed to back us on this. The women..." He shrugged sadly. "We shall see. But I'm optimistic they'll come around."
"Aren't you a little worried about this?" Meredith asked. "Not the fallout but the drug itself? What if its effects are permanent? It's obviously contagious."
"Look, Mere, whatever the dangers Reprise might or might not pose, the best way to get to the bottom of it is through research unfettered by outside interference. CE is in the best position to solve the problem, and the last thing we need are draconian controls placed on our efforts by overzealous government agencies or an implosion in the value of our company, which would serve only to undercut the resources we need to reach a solution." Max leaned forward, his face filled with the earnest faith of an evangelistic minister. "We're going to beat this thing, my friends, I promise. And CellEvolve will emerge from it stronger than ever. As will all those who stood by us in these difficult times. The rewards for loyalty" – his pointed glance at Meredith turned even more pointedly on me – "will be legion, I promise you all that."
Max Emanuel nodded to Martha, who cracked open her briefcase and lifted out a sheaf of papers.
"Please take a moment to study the official account," he said. "Aiden? Could I speak with you for a moment outside?"
I followed him out, trying to dampen the warning bells clanging in my head. I had a pretty good idea what he wanted to talk about. He steered me away from the security dudes to a quiet spot under a towering redwood where we had a nice view of the lower half of the resort. He kept an avuncular arm on my shoulder.
"I can't get over how much you've grown," he said. "You were just a cute little kid when we first met. You're as tall as I am at six-two now."
"I'm only six feet and one-quarter inch last time I measured."
His chuckle held an awkward note. "You need to add an inch or two to your height when you're a celebrity."
"Oh."
Max gave my shoulder a squeeze and dropped his hand. "It's been a heckuva three days, hasn't it?"
"Yes."
"What did you think about my little speech in there? The part about working together on the same page?"
I was hesitant to tell him what I thought. My stomach still ached from the security goon's punch. Max laughed quietly, as if reading my mind.
"Bullshit, right?"
He laughed again when I smiled. Maybe he was psychic?
"Let's say we came clean," he said. "Threw ourselves at the mercy of the authorities. We'd likely have to pay a huge fine. Our stockholders would lose vast amounts of money. They might investigate us or even try to shut us down if we insisted on martyring ourselves and didn't pay off anyone. So who would gain by that, Aiden?"
"Maybe the general public?"
"Would they? Losing out on a potentially powerful treatment for MES? Would people be better off without Melatin? Or Revive – which is performing miracles for some people suffering from Parkinson's and Alzheimer's? And if they did shut us down, what do you think would happen then?"
"Someone else would start doing the same thing, I'd guess."
"Now you're getting it!" He thumped my shoulder like a proud father – though I couldn't remember my father ever doing that. "You think we're the only ones pushing the envelope? Taking risks?"
"Probably not."
"You'd have to shut down not just CE but every major pharmaceutical."
"Or maybe pass a law banning or at least regulating certain kinds of genetic engineering?"
"After the Outbreak they passed a whole slew of regulations. Most of them were modified or repealed or flat-out ignored." He gave me a resigned smile. "You can't outlaw the wheel, Aiden. What we can do, we will do."
I thought there must be a logical flaw in there somewhere, but it wasn't coming to me. But then Max was every bit as smart as I was, if not smarter, and he'd been doing this a lot longer.
"Which brings u
s to the question of a camera," he said. "Your girlfriend – or ex-girlfriend – didn't have one in her possession. The prevailing belief is that she either hid it or handed it off to someone. Ellworth's brilliant security officers eventually settled on the possibility that she handed it to you, recalling your parting hug and considering that instead of consenting to be searched you performed a passable imitation of O.J. Simpson."
"Is Jenny still in jail?"
"No. She was booked and released shortly after they brought her in."
I happily abandoned visions of her torture and not so happily turned my worries on myself.
"My guess is you know where that missing camera is, Aiden."
"What if I told you I didn't?"
"I wouldn't believe you."
"Are you going to have your security men beat me up again?"
Max Emanuel grunted out a chuckle. "I heard about that. The men said you took some hard shots without a whimper. The verdict was that you're a 'tough little son of a bitch,' particularly for someone your age."
I didn't think I was that little, though I guessed that was relative. Still, it was kind of cool they bought my tough guy act.
"No," said Max, "I'd rather appeal to your reason."
"More money in my bank account?"
"That's what you'd want?" He sounded disappointed.
"Not really. I'd just like to do what's right." After a moment, I added, "For once."
Max Emanuel nodded as if he'd expected that. "You're a man of integrity, Aiden. That's rare, and I respect it."
"Uh, thanks."
"So I'm hoping you'll reply honestly when I ask if you know the location of Jenny Green's camera and/or its storage media."
I clamped my lips together to prevent myself from blurting out a reply. I still hadn't decided what to do.
"You already said you wouldn't believe me if I said I didn't know where it was."
"True. But if you stick to that, we're going to assume your girlfriend does know its location, and we will want to talk to her further about that."
Fear crackled through me. The one thing I couldn't accept was something happening to Jenny or anyone else because of me.
"She doesn't have it, Mr. Emanuel. And she doesn't know where it is."
"Ah." Max Emanuel nodded approvingly. "Good. Thanks for being honest about that. So are you going to tell me where it is, Aiden?"
"I don't know."
"You know where it is but you're not sure you're going to tell me?"
I nodded glumly. "Yes."
"Look, I get it. You're an idealist. So am I, in my own way, believe it or not. I see the future as filled with vast and unimaginable possibilities, but we won't realize those possibilities by being timid, by avoiding risks. No pain, no gain."
"What if what happened to the women spreads into the general population? What if you can't find a cure for it just as we haven't found a cure for MES?" I finally named the dystopian fantasies that had been plaguing me since Chrissie had gone insane at Jenny's campground.
"First, that's not going to happen. The odds of a repeat of MES – an alteration of the human genome – are astronomically low. But if it did..." He shrugged. "So women become more sexually aggressive. It wouldn't be the end of the world. We'd adjust, just as we did after the Outbreak."
"I can't believe you're so casual about that."
"The future's coming whether we like it or not. We can't turn back the clock on genetic engineering or any other technology because something bad happens."
"Does that mean we should start a nuclear war or create Frankenstein monsters?"
"No," Max said with a slim smile. "I'm not advocating anything quite that rash. But some eggs are going to get broken." He shrugged. "Progress has never occurred without some sacrifice and collateral damage."
I didn't see any point in arguing with him about that. He'd obviously spent a lot of time, maybe most of his life, rationalizing what he did. I was pretty sure he was rationalizing, even if some of what he said was logical.
"All I'm asking," Max said, "is that you consider carefully where your true loyalties lie and what kind of future you want, my young friend. On one hand, you can not only be part of the true cutting edge in research – I'm talking about the kind of research that barely gets mentioned, if it does at all, in the mainstream news – but also have access to perks that are available only to the very few."
"Front row tickets to the Kings?"
"How about a front row ticket to one hundred and fifty years or more of robust, healthy life? Or a front row seat on the next manned mission to Mars?"
"Virtual mission?"
"No."
"You're seriously saying NASA has a planned mission to Mars and I could be on it?"
"Didn't say anything about NASA."
I wanted to assume Max Emanuel was full of shit, but nothing in his face made me think he was screwing with me. He was smiling like he knew stuff the rest of us mere mortals would never know.
"What I am saying is that you could have a life that others can only imagine," Max continued. "And I'm talking about people with exceptional imaginations."
One thing wasn't adding up for me, but I was afraid to say it. Still, it wouldn't be naming anything that Max Emanuel hadn't thought about.
"I don't understand," I said. "Why don't you just force me to tell you about the camera? It's like you want to convince me...as if you actually care..."
"I do care. I really do."
"Why?"
"Because, bottom line, you're one of us, Aiden. And we take care of our own."
"Us? You mean 'The Club'?"
"You could call it that."
"You're serious? I mean, I'm a sixteen year old kid." I cleared my throat. "Though I will be seventeen in a couple months..."
"We took that into consideration," Max said with a laugh. "But in all seriousness, what that means is we could have a very long and productive association. You and I and others like us could the probe the boundaries of technology – of reality itself – for a century or more. Possibly much more."
I drew in a deep breath of sweet possibility. And I wasn't immune to the flattery. I was used to hearing about my wondrous potential, but this was on another level.
"Because I'm hyper?" I breathed out.
"Partly. But that just sweetens the pot. Even without that, you have the intelligence, the spirit, and pedigree to do great things. Doing great things is what I'm about, Aiden. It's what most of us are about."
I rubbed the tight muscles in my forehead. I felt I was standing on the dizzying edge of a precipice. One step could take me back to safety. The other could send me plunging into the abyss.
"If I tell you where to find the recordings..."
"Then it's all good."
"If I don't?"
"Not so good. Especially if they become public." His smile flattened a bit. "And no, that doesn't mean I'll send people to burn down your house or that you'll even lose your job. But your membership offer – the Golden Key – would likely be revoked."
"The Golden Key?"
"The key to every door, as John Denver once said." Max's smile returned, though at a dimmer setting. "I'm a fan."
I was at a loss. What person in his or her right mind turns down a golden key? Max patted me on the shoulder.
"You and your folks are free to go," he said. "I trust you'll make the right decision, Aiden."
Chapter 33
OUR TRIP HOME HAD a slight detour: a ratty motel in Redding where Jenny Green had holed up. She'd left several messages on my cell, which showed up when we got reception a few miles outside the Ellsworth Retreat. Meredith, my mom, and I sat huddled around a battered coffee table in a dingy room inundated by cigarette smoke blasting in from the air conditioning vents.
"Your camera's up about twenty feet in a tree right off the lumber service road," I coughed. "It's maybe two miles west on the road where your car was parked. Someone carved a number in a nearby tree stump – 33551. There's a hol
e in the tree –"
Jenny held up a weary hand. "Aiden, thanks for doing that, but I could spend a week up there searching for that tree, and that's not somewhere I want to spend a lot of time. Please just come with me and show me."
"Okay." I glanced at my mom, whose eyes had narrowed to hostile slits, and Meredith, who was giving a subtle shake of her head. "You're probably right about getting in and out as fast as possible."
"I'm coming with you," my mom stated, eyeing me like a mother bear – who was considering eating her cubs.
Meredith was eyeing Jenny just as sharply. "You're determined to do this?"
Jenny glanced at me, a regretful edge to her frown. "Yes. I don't see any choice."
"You've considered – clearly considered – what the consequences could be? Not just for you but for Aiden and Alyssa."
"This is bigger than us, Meredith. Someone has to take a stand, whatever the consequences."
"Nice of you to make them into martyrs along with you."
"What about all the people CellEvolve is making into sacrificial guinea pigs?" Jenny stood up, veins popping in her biceps. "I'm out of here. Are you coming, Aiden? Dr. Stevens?"
"Yup," I said. My mom growled her accord.
"Jesus." Meredith sighed and stood up. "Who can resist a real-life heroine? Count me in, too. The more the merrier. Bad pun intended, I'm afraid."
We crammed into Jenny's Toyota and headed northwest. It was going to be a long hour or so before we reached our destination. I was glad Jenny had already traveled on the forest service road because Ogle was a bit vague on the directions. To make things more challenging, it was late-afternoon by the time we'd turned off on the dirt road, which was now buried in shadows. It occurred to me multiple times during the drive that, as Meredith had pointed out, my and my mom's lives were tied to her actions. She was making the decision for us. I was a lot more relieved than resentful. I wanted someone to stand up to CE's insanity, but I doubted I would make that choice myself. Jenny Rambo was made of different stuff from me and most of the rest of us, I thought.
Luckily, the numbers carved into the tree stumps were ordered, guiding us right to the spot. I climbed out, and there was my tree.
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