The Veil

by Torstein Beck

  ‘No shit you’re the driver,’ Gertlinger muttered to himself before clearing his throat. ‘No, not long,’ he said outwardly now, climbing into the front seat.

  ‘Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in the back?’ the driver asked.

  ‘I’ve just been on a five hour red-eye with a plane full of snoring Americans, I’ll be glad for the conversation. Plus, I don’t want the back smelling like smoke when I’m sitting in there with Max.’

  ‘Yeah, about that, there’s no smoking in the car. And who is Max? I was told you were alone and to take you directly home,’ Felix said, his voice unsure.

  ‘Felix, right?’ Gertlinger asked with a deep drag and exhale that filled the cabin with blue-tinged smoke.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ he said, trying not to cough.

  ‘Do you own this car?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you make enough money driving it to own one of your own?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How long have you been working for this company?’

  ‘Just a couple of weeks.’

  ‘And since then who have you chauffeured?’

  ‘Mostly diplomats, dignitaries, ambassadors, people like that.’

  ‘People who sat in the back quietly and were too well mannered to say boo to a goose.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Oh, you’re excused. If you weren’t you’d be fired.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Is that a question? I take thirty flights a year in and out of Geneva — for all of which I use your company. You know how much it costs me per trip?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then you know that I’m probably a valued customer making up a good chunk of your company’s revenue stream. So think about it Felix, who is going to be the most valued to your company, you or me?’

  Felix remained quiet.

  ‘You wouldn’t be the first driver I’ve had fired, so listen up. Your company lets me sit where I want, and smoke what I want. If I want to light up a crack pipe and get high as a kite sitting right here next to you, then I will. Lucky for you this is a cigarette, so pull your panties out of your ass and get a move on. I’ve been on an overnight, I need a shower, a change of clothes and a decent meal. So if you please, Quai Wilson.’ Gertlinger finished with a sigh, took another deep drag and then flicked his butt out the window. Felix solemnly put the car into gear and pulled off. Gertlinger rested his elbow on the door and stared out of the window as they drove. Neither he nor Felix exchanged another word the entire way there. Gertlinger decided he wasn’t really glad for the company after all.

  ‘Wait here,’ was the only instruction Gertlinger gave Felix as he slammed the car door and headed for his apartment building. He had a large chateau in the foothills of the Alps, but it was nearly two hours outside the city and travelling there right now was pointless. He had all the comforts of home in his apartment in the city and now rarely found himself visiting the chateaux at all. As such, he’d invested in a top quality security system. The house had a self-contained laboratory in the basement with hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of equipment, not to mention the contents of the house itself and the cars in the garage. All this added up to requiring a five-metre concrete wall topped with razor wire that ran the perimeter, steel reinforced window shutters, and triple deadbolt locking mechanisms on all the reinforced and spring-loaded internal security doors — all of which were wired to motion sensors so that if someone managed to somehow get inside, the doors themselves would snap closed, trapping them in whichever room they were stupid enough to invade first. Round that off with a blast-grade garage door cut into a rocky outcropping a hundred metres from the property perimeter, which fed via an underground tunnel to the internal garage, and then from there into the interior of the property, and the place was practically a bunker.

  It wasn’t his choice to buy it, but in the early years when his celebrity status had exploded, and he and Angela were trying to keep their relationship under wraps, he’d made a metric ton of money being contracted for other projects and she’d convinced him to buy it. Four years later, they were divorced with a young child and the house quickly fell vacant. Gertlinger bought the apartment in Geneva while Angela got her affairs in order at the house, then she typed her twelve digit code into the security system in the garage and the whole place went into lockdown. Since then, seven years ago, the house had barely been visited.

  Every time he came back to Geneva though, it was in his mind. The house was owned outright but the monthly cost of the security upkeep alone was enough to want to sell it. But then again, it was his home and he did have the money to spare. More than he could spend in ten lifetimes.

  He did visit occasionally. And when he did, with Max, it was paradise.

  He rode swiftly upwards in the elevator, unlocked the door to his floor-sized apartment and entered briskly.

  He dumped his bag on the armchair by the door and headed for the bedroom. He shed his clothes and got in the shower.

  He stayed there for what could have been half an hour, washing the clinging recycled aeroplane air off his skin, before he turned off the water and went back into the main living room. The building was a traditional apartment block, and the layout of his apartment was open plan, with a sprawling kitchen come living space lined with half dozen floor to ceiling windows that gave a panoramic view of the lake. He pushed through one of the balcony windows and stood in his robe on the veranda. The morning was still cold and though dawn had now turned to day, the world still wasn’t awake. And that was how he liked it.

  He looked down on to the street to see the town car still idling. From his bird’s eye perch, he could see Felix’s fingers restlessly drumming on the sill, waiting impatiently for him.

  Screw you, Felix, he thought, reaching into the breast pocket of his robe for the cigarettes he’d put there. He lit one and spent a quiet few minutes smoking it, mentally preparing himself for the journey ahead. He was to head to Zurich that day for a meeting with the project director of a pharmaceutical company that was looking at implanting human ovaries into pigs so that they could be used as surrogate vessels for baby carrying. It was absurd, and not to mention cruel to the pigs. They’d be used and slaughtered to save some shallow housewife’s ass from stretch marks. He laughed. How hypocritical of him. He loved bacon and wasn’t that just as bad? He’d already gone over their proposal papers and had a look at their initial research. They weren’t even close to being viable, and there was no evidence to support that it would ever be possible. But, they were offering eight figures a year and who was he to stand in the way of their dreams? If it took him two years to get around to a definitive conclusion, either way, that’d be fine. He’d get paid regardless. And it wouldn’t be a scratch on their profit margins. This company turned over a thirteen figure annually and employed more people globally than lived in the city in which Gertlinger currently stood. They were a colossus, a company that owned most of the companies in the world. But that didn’t matter. They were a paycheck to him, and nothing more. He was done caring about things.

  Gertlinger aimed for Felix and flicked his butt over the railing before turning back to his apartment. No point wasting time.

  The door slammed once more as Gertlinger slid into the front seat of the town car. It jostled a little and Felix cracked his neck, trying not to sigh.

  ‘Where to now, sir?’ he said with a forced smile.

  ‘To my meeting,’ Florian replied absently, pulling out his phone to check his schedule.

  ‘Sure,’ Felix said, pulling off.

  ‘Can you stop for some breakfast on the way too, I’m starved.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘And one more thing, Felix.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Are you paid hourly, or by the mile?’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘This isn’t another threat. I’m actually asking.’

  ‘Umm… Hourly, sir.’

  ‘Which is what?’ Gertlinger asked flatly.


  ‘I don’t know that I feel comfortable answering that.’

  ‘Humour me. After today we may never see each other again.’

  ‘Thirty-five Euros an hour.’

  ‘And you’re paid that for as long as I require your service?’

  ‘Yes,’ Felix replied tentatively

  ‘Then I have a job for you.’

  ‘Isn’t this the job?’

  ‘Okay, if you want to be pedantic, a continuation of this job.’

  ‘What is it?’ Felix asked, peeling into a side street.

  ‘Once we get to Zurich, I’m going to be going into this meeting. You were supposed to meet me afterwards and bring me back to Geneva, but there’s been a change of plans. After my meeting, I’m flying to Berlin.’

  ‘Berlin?’

  ‘To see my son.’

  ‘Oh,’ Felix hedged.

  ‘I want you to meet me there.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Felix said, hanging a left onto the main drag.

  ‘I’ll be three or four hours in the meeting, and then afterwards I’ll be getting some dinner, I would think. Then, I’ll catch a cab to the airport and take a flight to Berlin.

  ‘My meeting is at one this afternoon. I’ll be catching a flight by nine. I’ll be in Berlin by ten. I’ve booked a hotel for the night and then in the morning, I’ll be picking my son up. Once you’ve dropped me off in Zurich, I want you to drive to Berlin.’

  ‘I, uh… I don’t know if I can. I might have another job tomorrow or… I mean, I…’ Felix stammered.

  ‘I’ve already contacted your company, and they said they are happy to allow you to remain in my service for as long as I require you. So, I require you to drive to Berlin. It’s a thousand kilometres. Ten hours driving. Once you drop me off at my meeting, you had head straight there. If you make decent time, you should arrive around the same time as me. I’ll pay for your hotel for the night, and then I’ll need you to take me to pick my son up the following morning.’

  Felix pondered it. ‘Sorry if I’m missing something, Doctor Gertlinger, but why don’t you just rent a similar service in Berlin?’

  ‘Because I’ll need you to drive my son and I home afterwards.’ Gertlinger sighed and looked out the window at the passing city.

  ‘That’s what I mean, why don’t you fly back?’

  ‘It’s an hour flight, or a ten-hour drive. I don’t get to see my son very often. Ten hours in the back of a car might be the longest time I’ll get to spend with him this decade. Once we’re home, it’s games consoles and internet, and—’ Gertlinger rolled his hands through the air and cut himself. ‘Sorry if it’s not an ideal workday for you but it sounds pretty perfect to me,’' Gertlinger snapped.

  ‘I apologise. I didn’t mean it like that, but I don’t know. I have things to do and—’ Felix began, but was cut off once more.

  ‘You started at six this morning, and I’m offering you more than thirty-six hours work at thirty-five euros an hour. That’s one thousand two hundred and sixty euros. I’ll give you five hundred on top for anything you require for the journey, and then I’ll double the entire figure, just as a tip. You can call your girlfriend, or your neighbour, or whoever the hell you need to feed your cat tonight, but the long and short of it is that I’m offering you three and a half thousand euros for the next day and a half of your life. Nothing more. Nothing less. But, at the end of the day, I’m not forcing you. It’s your choice. I can call your company and find someone else to do it. It’s not a problem, and I won’t hold it against you or have you fired. Of that, you have my word.

  ‘Angela, my ex-wife, got full custody. Max is eight, now. He was just sixteen months old when we divorced. She got full custody and I’ve seen him less than a dozen times in all that time. It would really mean a lot to me that it’s done this way. You may think it’s a captive audience, but who knows when I’ll be able to see him next. So, Felix, what do you say? Because I’ll need to get another drive from your company immediately if you say no.’

  There was silence as Felix thought about it, doing the maths in his head. After a while he replied. ‘Okay, I’ll do it.’

  Gertlinger gave a little smile and nodded. ‘Good. Now find me some fucking breakfast. I’m starving.’

  TWENTY-ONE

  THE VEIL

  2122 AD

  Outside the hotel, things were quiet. The city still slept and the streets were empty.

  The hotel staff gave earnest nods to Sorina and Aaro as they exited the stairwell and made their way across the lobby. About halfway, Sorina reached for Aaro’s hand and laced her fingers into his. They said nothing, but just returned the nods afforded to them and continued onwards.

  They were the only last-minute additions to the expedition and as such were the only ones staying at the hotel. Everyone else had more permanent residences in the city. Sorina had risen when the alarm had sounded, and by that time Aaro had finished his drink, showered, dressed and was preparing his bag for the journey — a modest rucksack with his tools, and some clothes. He had a pretty strong buzz going and it was fumbly in the dark, but he got the job done. And then, when Sorina grumbled gently from the bed, Aaro cast a glance over and found her to be only partially covered by the quilt and naked. He latched his rucksack, shed his clean shirt and crawled towards her. They made love again, savouring each other and the softness of the bed one last time before they faced the days ahead. And then they got up and got ready. As such, they were late.

  Aaro pushed through the revolving door and then he and Sorina were out on the street. She shivered and swore under her breath, wrapping herself up from the cold. Aaro just smiled and reached into his breast pocket for his cigarettes. The alcohol was still warming him. He felt a little more sober now but the gravity of the situation was still kept well at bay. He felt quite relaxed, so he figured that he was still at least halfway drunk. They took to the sidewalk and strode through the stiff breeze towards the plant.

  Fifteen minutes later, rubbing the cold from their hands, Aaro and Sorina were let through a door by a bleary-eyed security guard, into the hangar-grade core room. At the far side were the two trucks. Painted across the bonnets were the names “Fido” and “Rover”. Aaro got it. Because they were going to fetch the core. Nothing like a bit of humour to take the edge off impending death.

  Katarina waved to them as they approached. Preparations were already well underway. Robin and Alva, the driver and navigator of the first truck were packing a box with food and water, and Berg, the gunner, was polishing a mountable Browning MG. He looked up at Aaro and turned out his top lip, continuing his work. Aaro shrugged it off and met Katarina’s eye. She was measuring them.

  ‘You two ready?’ she asked with a wide smile did nothing to cover the nervous look in her eyes.

  ‘Ready as we’ll ever be,’ Sorina said back with a forced grin.

  Katarina beamed at them. It was making Aaro uncomfortable. ‘Good, I’ve got a really good feeling about this,’ she said.

  ‘Ha, you would,’ Aaro laughed. ‘You’re not going! You get to sit here in perfect safety while we’re out there.’ Maybe he was a little drunker than he thought.

  Katarina’s smile faded. She couldn’t tell if Aaro was joking. He wasn’t sure either. After a second or two she looked down and pulled out her checklist. ‘Well, I’ve got a lot to do. I’ll leave you guys to get ready.’

  She left promptly and circled to the other side of the nearest truck. Sorina shoved Aaro. ‘Nice going. Idiot.’

  Aaro shrugged. He could still feel the whisky, and he always lost his tact when he drank. Sorina shook her head and walked off towards Rover, their truck. Aaro followed. Their driver and spotter sister-brother duo, Sabina and Samuel, were sitting in the cab, going over the map route. She had short blonde hair, and he did too. They clocked Sorina and Aaro and nodded with a smile. They’d barely said two words to them.

  Aaro and Sorina returned it and continued to the back. As they rounded the corner, Bjork and Ek
, the two gunners, abruptly stopped their conversation and looked up at them. After a few seconds, they gave Sorina and Aaro a slight nod. They were going to be living on each other’s backs for the next couple days so there was no point being on bad terms. If they ended up killing each other before the mission was complete then no one would get paid. They were happy to let things lie, regardless of how these two newcomers had secured their spots on the truck.

  There were two large backpacks lying on the floor next to the ramp to the back, with sticky labels on them reading ‘Emmerson’ and ‘Strand’ respectively. Aaro scooped his up and opened it. A sleeping mat and bag, some energy bars, two chocolate bars and a very lonely and thin looking banana. Aaro smiled wryly. All the comforts of home. Sadly, it might have been a step up from his cell in Oslo.

  He looked at Sorina who was also inspecting the contents. She reached in and pulled out a case from the bottom. It was metal with a locking clasp, about the size of a decent socket set. She opened it up to find a medical kit stocked with bandages, antiseptic wash, a scalpel, forceps and tourniquet tubing. She went a little white at the thought of needing it. She lifted up the first tray and under it sat a twelve-inch survival knife, a collapsible canteen, a bagged poncho and a flare. She went swiftly from white to green at the thought of needing those, too.

  Aaro saw and put a hand on her shoulder.

  Ek saw and spoke up. ‘Those are just in case.’

  ‘In case of what?’ Sorina mumbled.

  ‘In case by some fucking catastrophe you find yourself outside the truck,’ he said with a cruel laugh.

  ‘Why would you go outside the truck?’ she said, looking up, her eyes like saucers.

  Ek smiled strangely. ‘You wouldn’t. Not unless we need to run for our lives, that is.’

  ‘Don’t listen to him,’ Aaro whispered reassuringly.

  ‘I wouldn’t worry about it anyway,’ Ek said aimlessly, going back to his own bag. ‘There’d be no hope outside the truck. You’d never survive, no matter what we put in that kit.’

  ‘Great.’