“Wireless detonator.”
“Bullshit,” he said. “You haven’t had time to wire this place.”
Hugo shook his head. “The plane, stupid.”
“Why would he blow up the—oh. Shit!”
I sighed. “Hugo. Can we get this thing done?”
We walked into the hanger and up to a Lear 45 where I saw Buddy Pancake’s face in one of the windows.
“Why’s he making that stupid face?” said Hugo.
“I think he’s trying to signal me that someone’s holding a gun on him.”
“Like you wouldn’t have figured that out.”
The goon stopped near the exit door of the jet, and Hugo and I kept walking toward the office in the back of the hangar. As I passed, I nodded at Buddy to let him know I got his message. Buddy kept mouthing the words, “They’ve got guns! Guns!”
Hugo said, “What a moron.”
I said, “Jinny Kidwell for this guy? Gotta be the worst hostage trade in history.”
Hugo laughed.
A voice behind me said, “Hello, Donovan.”
I knew the voice. I turned.
“I’ll be damned,” I said.
“Yes you will.”
It was Rachel’s husband.
“What have you been up to, Sam?”
Sam said, “You know. Just livin’ the dream.” Then he said, “You still banging my wife?”
“Not so much.”
“Can’t say I blame her.”
There were dark circles under Sam’s eyes. His face had a pasty pallor, and his hair was unkempt. He sounded bitter, and looked five years older than he should. I’m sure it’s hard being Sam, a lonely computer genius with no family, friends, or peers in his profession.
“Rachel was asking about you,” I said.
“When?”
“Earlier today.”
“And what did you say?”
I shrugged. “What’s there to say?”
He nodded. “Do I have any chance with her at all? Your honest opinion.”
I said, “The Wish List computer program. Is that your work?”
“You like it?”
“I admire the effort.”
“Do you have any inkling how impressive an achievement that is? I mean, can you even comprehend the magnitude of what I put together?”
I couldn't. But based on his question I figured it must be pretty damn special. I said, “It’s sheer genius.”
“It’s child’s play,” he said.
I shrugged. “Victor hired you to create it?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“I would. You’re the best computer person I’ve ever known.”
He shook his head. “You have no idea.” Then he muttered something about how the rest of us are mere insects trying to fathom quantum physics.
Then he walked away.
Chapter 14
Victor was sitting in the front office in his space age wheelchair, flanked by two little people half my size who I regarded as more dangerous than the goon outside.
“Hugo…tells me…that…Jinny’s alive.”
“She is.”
“Then…let’s…make the…trade.”
Victor’s metallic voice is creepy enough on the phone. In person it’s unearthly.
I said, “What’s wrong with Jinny?”
“She’s got…AIDS.”
“Jesus.”
“Exactly.”
“And you’ve got a cure?”
“One…dose.”
“Damn.”
“Exactly.”
“Look, Victor, you can’t just tell me some guy, working alone, discovered a cure for AIDS. He’s got no notes? Give me a break. That’s not how these things work in real life.”
“Why…do you…care?”
“I might want to write a book someday. You think my readers are going to accept that type of bullshit explanation?”
“You…haven’t…even…written a…book but…you’re worried…about…what your… readers are…going…to think?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“Well if…you…write…a book…”
“Yeah?”
“Keep me…out of it.”
“You’ll change your mind when we shoot the movie version.”
“Who…do you…think they’ll…get to…play me…in…the movie?”
I thought about it a minute, then gave up. “Victor, you’re an original. They’ll have to pay through the nose to get you to play yourself. You’ll have them over a barrel.”
He seemed pleased about the movie role, so I got back to it. “So what happened? Tell me about the doctor.”
Victor motioned to Hugo to speak, which is what he did whenever too many words needed to be said. Using the respirator to generate his computer voice for more than a few sentences was not only time consuming, but exhausting for Victor.
Hugo said, “His name was Gero Mielke.”
“German?”
“Correct.”
“What was his specialty?”
Hugo shrugged. “Microbiology, virology, blood cancer specialist….” His voice trailed off.
“Working alone?”
“When we met him he was director of the Berlin Mutational Virology Laboratory. He led his team to the edge of what he realized was a breakthrough, then moved them in a different direction and continued the work alone.”
“Why?”
“He wanted to cash in.”
“How much did you offer?”
“He was going to sell us the formula for a billion dollars.”
“Beats a salary bump at the lab, I’ll bet.”
“Exactly.”
We were all quiet for a moment. I spoke first. “You’re positive Jinny’s got AIDS?”
“Yes,” said Hugo. “One hundred percent. But it’s nearly cured.”
“And her husband?”
“HIV positive.”
“But not AIDS?”
“Not yet.”
“And Buddy?”
“I’m afraid Buddy will be dead by December.”
“But how is that possible? AIDS doesn’t kill that quickly.”
“Apparently the serum that is saving Jinny accelerates the disease in her sexual partners. Dr. Mielke learned that during the testing phase.”
“So Jinny knew she was killing Buddy by sleeping with him?”
“Of course.”
I shook my head. “And she called me disgusting!”
“Women, right?” Hugo said.
“But why isn’t Jinny’s husband dead by now?”
“She and Pete haven’t had sex since learning about her condition.”
An interesting thought came into my mind. “If Jinny gets cured, will she kill all her future sexual partners?”
“No one knows.”
“What about Buddy’s wife, Lissie?”
“What about her?”
“Has he infected her?”
“No. There’s been no sexual contact between them since he’s been with Jinny.”
“Good thing,” I said.
Then I thought of something else. “Who infected Jinny Kidwell?”
“Her husband.”
“What?”
“He was cheating on Jinny and wound up with HIV. He didn’t contract the disease, but he became a carrier, and passed it on to Jinny.”
“I was wondering why he allowed her to fuck Buddy Pancake.”
“Now you know. So, are you ready to make the trade?”
“There are what, twenty, thirty million people living with AIDS?”
“More like forty-five million. And five million new cases a year.”
“A billion dollars seems cheap. What happened, you got greedy?”
“No. We made several payments, but Dr. Mielke began making impossible demands. In the end, he was a raging paranoid who thought we were going to steal his formula. He tore up his notes and worked alone at night, after his team left the lab. He began missing our deadlines
and refused to continue working without being paid. The situation got out of hand.”
“What happened to him?”
Hugo and Victor exchanged a look. Hugo said, “Unfortunately, Dr. Mielke died before we could resolve our issues.”
“Cause of death?”
“Heart attack.”
“Uh huh. Was there torture involved?”
Victor said, “A little.”
“You thought you might be able to force his cooperation.”
Hugo said, “The idea made sense at the time.”
“But you tortured him to death.”
“Not me, but yes, that was the unhappy result.”
“The man was living a double life.”
“Yes.”
“Working day and night, the guilt, the stress…your people should have known.”
“True.”
“Torture is an exact science, better left to professionals.”
“So we’ve learned.”
“You should have called me.”
Victor smiled. “Next time.”
Chapter 15
After making the trade, Buddy and I climbed in the Hawker and strapped on the seat belts.
“What about the device in my back?” he said.
“Is it uncomfortable?”
“What do you think? They dug a hole in my back and stuck a piece of metal in there.”
“What are you taking for it?”
“They gave me Dilaudid tablets. Said they have two to eight times the painkilling effects of morphine.” He looked at me. “Is that true?”
“How would I know? I don’t use pain pills.”
“Why not?”
“They keep you from feeling pain, right?”
He didn’t know how to respond, so he said, “Can you believe those bastards did this to me? Now I’m going to need surgery to dig that thing out.”
“You’d better use one of my contacts. Otherwise it’ll be reported.”
“I want it to be reported. They were going to hunt me down, shoot me like a fuckin’ animal. I’m going straight to the cops. I’ll bring those assholes to their knees!”
The copilot turned around in his chair and looked at me. “Everything all right?”
I nodded. Then said, “Buddy, look at me.”
When he did, I said, “You’re not going to tell anyone about this.”
“What? Why the hell not?”
“Because for once in your life you’re going to do the right thing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I promised the Wish List people you’d keep your mouth shut.”
“Why?”
“So they wouldn’t kill your wife.”
He went quiet awhile, but not long enough to suit me. “You really think they’d kill Lissie?” he said.
“I guarantee it.”
“But you could stop them.”
“I just did.”
“But only if I say nothing.”
“You got it. Finally.”
We landed in Richmond, and I said goodbye to the pilots and got a rental car. Buddy’s back was getting worse, so I took a look at it.
“It’s infected,” I said.
“I’m not surprised. Hurts like a sonovabitch.”
“Don’t worry about the seatbelt.” I buckled it to keep it from dinging, and he sat on it. I fired up the car and pulled onto I-64 heading west. “The news gets worse, Buddy.”
“What could be worse than the past few days?”
“You’re dying.”
“What? No! It’s just an infection. Look, take me to Jewish Hospital, and drop me off. I’ve got great insurance.”
“Buddy, we’re in Richmond, Virginia, not Louisville. I’m driving you to a private facility that houses the finest surgeons in the world.”
“Mr. Creed, really, you’ve done more than I could have hoped for. I mean, Jesus, you saved my life. So please. Don’t worry about me. Or Lissie. We’ll be fine, I promise. I’m no Donovan Creed, but I can take it from here.”
“You’re not listening to me. You’re dying.”
“Look. I’m not a tough guy, we both know that. But this is just a simple surgical procedure.”
“If it’s not removed properly, the device in your back will detonate and blow out your spine.”
“Excuse me?”
I pulled off at the next exit, found an abandoned Popeye’s Fried Chicken restaurant, and parked behind it.
“I’m taking you to Sensory Resources, a branch of Homeland Security. There are surgeons there who can take that thing out of your back tonight. But you need to understand, after this, things will never be the same.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re dying. And not because of the device.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’ve got full-blown AIDS, Buddy.”
He laughed. “Right.”
“I’m serious. Ever ask yourself why Jinny Kidwell paid you a million dollars and let you have sex with her?”
“Of course. So I asked her.”
“And she gave you that bullshit story about paying back into the system?”
He nodded.
“Jinny Kidwell has AIDS. She heard about Wish List, filled out the form, and asked for a cure for AIDS.”
“They’ve got a cure for AIDS? Who are these guys?”
“The kind of guys who began giving her the treatments, and told her if she wanted to complete them she’d have to perform some tasks.”
“Like fucking me.”
“And paying a million dollars.”
“Are you honestly trying to tell me that I have AIDS?”
“I am.”
“Mr. Creed, AIDS doesn’t work like that. You get HIV first. Then, years later, if you’re unlucky, you might get AIDS.”
“I’m not familiar with the normal progression of the disease. But it doesn’t matter in your case because the injections they gave Jinny caused you to acquire the disease, and accelerate its progression at an abnormal pace. I’ve been told by a very reliable source that you’ll be dead by December.”
“You swear to God?”
“It’s true.”
“Swear it. Swear to God.”
“What are we, eight years old?”
“What about the antidote? If they gave it to Jinny, they can give it to me. I’ll do whatever it takes. Call them. I’ve still got the million. I’ll pay it. Tell them. Tell them I’ll have sex with anyone they say.”
“You really think someone’s going to put having sex with you on their wish list?”
“That was just a for instance. I’ll do whatever. Please, just call them. Tell them I’ll do whatever they want. I’ll kill someone. Hell, I’ll kill ten people. Babies, if they want. I’ll—”
“Shut up, Buddy. Babies? Jesus. Anyway, there’s no more serum. There was only one batch ever made, and the guy who invented it died, leaving no records behind. Only one patient will ever receive the treatment, and that’s Jinny Kidwell. And you, Mr. I’ll Do Anything, Even Kill Ten Babies—are shit out of luck.”
Buddy began sobbing. The harder he sobbed, the worse his back hurt. Which made him yell. Then he sobbed some more, which made him yell again, and this went on for more than a minute until I finally said, “Wind it up, will you?”
“What’s to become of me?”
“You’re going to die. Get over it, you miserable fuck.”
“What about Lissie?”
“If it’s true you haven’t had sex with her, she’ll be all right physically.”
“I need to tell her. I need to explain things.”
“If you do, they’ll kill her.”
“Why?”
“Think about it. Jinny Kidwell, the world’s most famous actress, is about to be cured of AIDS. If word gets out, the entire world will change. Desperate people do desperate things, and people will demand answers. The easiest way to prevent that is to kill everyone who can’t keep a secret. Starting wi
th you, and then Lissie. Then both sets of relatives, and all your friends.”
“That’s crazy. They’ll never get away with it.”
“They won’t have to, because it’s not going to come to that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re never going to see Lissie again. You’re not going to see anyone again. You’re going to be isolated from all human contact, save for the doctors and nurses who’ll be taking care of you in a secluded treatment facility.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Maybe so, but that’s the plan.”
“What about the money?”
“Lissie will get half.”
“You’re still planning to take half my money? It’s all I have left!”
“I’m donating your half to the doctors and nurses at Sensory who will be keeping you comfortable as the disease progresses. By the time you die, I’ll have put together an elaborate explanation for why you went missing, and how you died a hero. Better to have Lissie remember you as a hero than to learn you got AIDS cheating on her. Don’t you agree?”
“No. I want to talk to her. Lissie’s a good person. If I explain everything, she’ll forgive me.”
“You think she’ll be okay with getting raped by your best friend?”
He paused. “I’ll skip over that part. She’ll forgive the rest.”
“You’re going to be an invalid. You think that’s fair?”
“She loves me.”
“Have you heard a word I’ve said?”
“Of course I have. But the bottom line is I only care about Lissie. I don’t give a damn what happens to anyone else.”
I sighed. “Maybe I should just kill you now.”
“Maybe you should,” Buddy said, “but you won’t. My sister loved you. She said you were a violent man, but a good one. You know that what happened to me wasn’t fair. You might not protect me from here on out, but you’ll let me end things on my own terms.”
Chapter 16
Buddy didn’t know me as well as he thought.
After snapping his neck I drove his body to my former headquarters in Carroll County, Virginia, and told the medical team that Buddy Pancake’s body was racked with a mutated AIDS virus that had been contracted through sexual intercourse with a woman who had received a treatment that was said to cure AIDS. I suggested that by performing detailed tests on his body, they might be able to backtrack their way into a cure for AIDS. It was a long shot, but what the hell. Buddy’s life might as well stand for something positive.