The infinity cure, p.9
The Infinity Cure, page 9
He found his way to a water car port that looked like it could be the closest to where he needed to go. He picked a vehicle and dumped the bag of Bruno in the passenger seat, then used the touch screen to dial security. He could tell by the voice that the man who answered was aquean, and he smoothly shifted his own vocal inflections to match when he spoke.
“Hi,” he said. “I gotta take a guest to their quarters and the car isn’t recognizing my print because I messed up my damn thumb earlier today.” He laughed ruefully. “I’ll get a new ID tomorrow, but could you give me a guest code to get me through the night?”
He lowered his voice. “And if you’d find it in your heart to not tell anyone, I’d appreciate it. It wasn’t my fault I cut my thumb, but you know how they can be.”
His fellow aquean did indeed know how they could be and was more than happy to give him a guest code and keep his secret.
He entered the code and started the car. Since he didn’t know what the prison building was called, he steered the vehicle himself using the touch screen. Once he got the hang of it, he enjoyed driving. It wasn’t something anyone got to do much of anymore.
The beautiful gardens and exotic fish gave way to a plainer, less scenic landscape, but the benefit was that his view was unobstructed; he soon spotted the building. He’d figured there wouldn’t be an unobtrusive way to approach it, and he was right. So he steered directly toward the port at the front, entered the dock, and watched the water drain out around him.
He was tempted to leave Louvin’s rucksack behind; its coarse fabric and worn appearance didn’t match the role he was about to play. But he didn’t want to catch heat from Hiroe or her boy toy about their pal the blob, so he’d just have to make it work. He slung the bag over his shoulder and left the vehicle.
The main door to the building was unlocked, but it led only to a small foyer with a locked glass door. Demonte tapped a button he assumed would call someone, and a minute or two later, a confused-looking human guard came into view behind the glass. His voice came clearly through the door. “What can I do for you?”
Demonte adopted a frazzled tone. “You can maybe build a time machine and go back to the past and pick me up from the main house half an hour ago!”
The confused frown on the other man’s face deepened. “What?”
Demonte groaned. “Look, never mind. It was a joke. Clearly no one got the memo that I was coming to meet my new client, Louvin Interre, but I’m here now so it’s water under the bridge. No pun intended. Could you just let me in so I can see him?”
“Well, I don’t think—” the guard started, but Demonte interrupted in a harassing, condescending tone.
“I know, I know you don’t think, and that’s not what you’re paid for. But what I’m paid for, and very well at that, is coming to the aid of my clients. Interre must have generous friends up top to be able to afford my rush rate, so I’d rather not keep him waiting.”
The guard hesitated a little longer, and Demonte started to feel inward despair, but he channeled it into how his character was feeling about letting down his client.
“What’s going on? Is my client in solitary? Did he do something more serious than I’ve heard about or are you just tormenting him for no reason? Are you trying to bar him from due process? Has he been harmed? If so, things are about to get—very public for you here.”
“No!” the guard said, alarmed. “He’s not—I mean, he’s in a room alone, but it’s not solitary. He’s fine—no injuries at all. And he’s just in there for that protest, far as I know. But I’m not sure if I can let anyone in, even lawyers. I should contact Agent Brooks.”
“I see,” Demonte started to downshift his tone to a friendlier, confiding one. “I get it. You don’t want to do anything that’s not spelled out. It’s a weird situation you’ve got here, with this ad hoc prison, right?”
“Right,” the guard said, sounding relieved.
“I understand your dilemma, I really do. That’s why I want you to try and understand mine, okay? If I can’t assure my clients—who seem extremely invested in this young man—very very soon that he’s unhurt, they are going to leverage their considerable influence to unleash a—I believe the legal term is complete motherfucking shitstorm to the media. You get me? Much as I’d like to take your word for it, I cannot deceive my clients when they ask if I’ve seen Interre and if he’s okay. And I cannot wait around for a fucking bureaucrat to wrap me up in a bunch of red tape. Believe me, you can’t afford the delay either.”
The guard looked distraught. “Give me a second, sir, okay?” He disappeared from the window and Demonte waited, his suit soaked through under his arms. He braced himself for a team of armed guards to burst through the door and arrest him. Or worse, for Brooks (who he assumed must be the man who had detained Louvin) to arrive at the prison in a water car and recognize him from the party.
Instead, the guard returned with one other, slightly older and more suspicious-looking man. He questioned Demonte, who explained it all again and tried to maintain his power-lawyer alter ego convincingly. He was utterly shocked, however, when it worked. The guards opened the door and let him in. The first guard led him to an elevator and down to the basement.
A door was unlocked with a few swift taps and slid soundlessly open. Louvin raised his head at the change in light and his eyes widened with surprise. Demonte shook his head slightly, praying the punk kid saw it and understood not to blow his cover, and resumed his fast talk.
“Mr. Interre, I’m relieved to see you unhurt. I was starting to have my doubts when they wouldn’t let me see you.” He turned to the guard. “Congratulations! You’ve just saved yourself and your whole outfit some embarrassing and unnecessary press. Now I need to see my client alone, please.”
“But—” the guard stammered. Demonte rolled his eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh.
“Here we go again. Since we already know how this ended last time, can we skip the part where I threaten you with my powerful clients and their money and status, and get to the part where you allow this young man to see his lawyer in private? He is, from what I understand, being detained on nonviolent and—let’s be honest—fairly innocuous charges. So I fail to understand this treatment.”
The guard began backing out halfway through his speech and was standing just outside the cell by the end of it. “I’ll give you, um, ten minutes, and then I’m coming back down,” he said, sounding cowed.
Demonte spread his hands. “That’s all I ever wanted, my friend,” he said. The guard didn’t waste any time going back down the hallway toward the elevator.
As soon as he was out of sight, Demonte turned back toward Louvin.
“Okay, kid,” he said. “There has got to be electronic surveillance here, because that brilliant specimen appears to be second in command in an army of two, and I find it hard to believe they’re really the only ones responsible for all these prisoners. I imagine if anyone sees what just happened, they’re going to come in a hurry. I’d say we have five minutes tops to bust you out of here. Any bright ideas? Because I don’t like any of the ideas I’ve got, which all involve assaulting and imprisoning federal officers.”
Louvin had been speechless the whole time, and now he shook his head, dazed with the sudden turn of events. But then his eyes fell on his old rucksack. They lit up with surprised joy, and then something dawned on him.
“I need to talk to Bruno,” he told Demonte. “I need to see if it’s up for something pretty taxing.” He set his jaw determinedly. “Also? I’m not leaving here without helping the protesters.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Demonte emerged from the elevator. The guard was standing by it, waiting. “Did you lock the cell door?” he asked.
Demonte looked scornful. “Of course I did, and that should be something you can check from here, isn’t it?” The guard nodded and tapped a wrist device. He stared at it and his face brightened with relief. “Can I see you out, sir?” he said hopefully.
“In a minute,” Demonte said. “Where’s your colleague? I need to talk to you both about my client’s treatment.”
“In the office, probably,” the guard said, sounding slightly despondent that he hadn’t gotten rid of Demonte as quickly as he’d hoped to. But he perked up with new resolve. “Let’s go there on your way out.” He was brisk and confident now, the end of this confusing incident hopefully in sight. He didn’t seem to notice that the previously bulging bag on Demonte’s shoulder was now sagging and empty-looking.
In the office, Demonte laid out a string of demands to the two men, making them up as he went along, reasonable requests mixed with a few outlandish ones. The head guard tapped notes into a device and murmured about how they’d check with their superiors to see what they could do. They kept agreeing to try to fulfill all of his demands, saying anything to get rid of him peacefully, until he abruptly stood.
“Well, gentlemen, I’m cautiously optimistic that you’ll treat my client well until we can prove he’s innocent of these trumped-up charges. I thank you for your time, and your service to our country.” He hoped the flourish wasn’t too over the top, but both of the men flashed relieved grins and led him to the entrance.
He held the door of the dock open a little longer, finding a few more things to tell them. Then he stood by the open door of his vehicle, fidgeting with his suit and taking his time placing the bag in the car. The guards were watching, he was sure. He finally got into the car and took off.
Next to him in the apparently empty passenger seat, Louvin’s rough-cut hair appeared, hovering in the air like the Cheshire cat's smile. The rest of him slowly came into view, as did the transparent coating on him, which slowly returned to its bright yellow hue as it slid down and began to resume its place in the bag. Demonte was repulsed and fascinated and impressed, but he assumed an air of nonchalance.
“Couldn’t you keep your blob suit on a little longer?” he asked. “You’re gonna have to keep a low profile now that you’re an escaped criminal, and that’d be an easy way, if you just stayed invisible.”
Louvin shook his head. “Bruno tires quickly when it does something like that. It would’ve fallen off me soon anyway from sheer exhaustion. It needs time to recharge now.”
Demonte shrugged. “What about the other prisoners? Did you—?”
“Unlocked their doors, left them open a crack,” Louvin said. “I left it up to them if they want to make a break for it or stay and take their chances with the justice system.”
“How’d you get the doors unlocked?” Demonte asked, his curiosity showing despite himself.
“Bruno,” Louvin said, smiling affectionately at the slimy mass as it slowly made its way back into the rucksack. “It was coating my fingers, so it figured out the order of the taps that entered the codes earlier.”
By now they were at the other dock, and Demonte steered their car into its spot, amazed there hadn’t been any sign of guards or security staff. “Let’s find Hiroe,” he said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Hiroe traced the mental map Bruno had left inside her, down hallways and through tunnels, hurrying so the target it had identified hopefully wouldn’t move too far away from the spot before she got there.
She turned a corner and spotted her. “Villanna!” she called. Louvin’s sister turned and smiled when she saw her.
“Hiroe, right?” She walked back the way she’d come, her crisp white uniform setting off her beautiful light aqua skin. She hugged Hiroe, who marveled again at the girl’s delicate frame. “How’s my pesky big brother? Off making more trouble, chasing crazy theories?”
“Yeah, pretty much.” Hiroe felt guilty withholding the truth, but hopefully Demonte would rescue him and it wouldn’t matter. She couldn’t afford to have Villanna completely distracted and Hiroe’s purpose for talking to her derailed. This was important to Louvin too, she told herself to assuage her guilt.
Instead she told Villanna about what she and Louvin had seen in Faith Benedict’s bedroom. Villanna’s eyes got wider as she listened, but she didn’t question Hiroe’s account. Her lip quivered and she blinked away tears. Hiroe felt sympathy but stayed carefully neutral.
“So what I’m wondering, Villanna, is why you told me and Louvin that Faith was fine.” The girl tried to say something, but her voice shook, and she began crying uncontrollably.
“I was lying,” she said between ragged sobs. Hiroe waited as she took deep breaths and sniffled, slowly calming down. “We all just wanted her to get through the fundraiser before going public about it. We didn’t want a mass panic, or for Faith’s sickness to distract from the cause.
“She’d been doing okay until recently. Then her symptoms flared up worse than we’ve ever seen them on anyone. That’s when we decided we needed to organize this event. We could raise money, raise awareness, and maybe some of the doctors and scientists who’d been working independently could reach breakthroughs in their thinking if we just got them in the same place for a couple days.”
Her eyes shone with more than tears. “It means the world to her, even more so now that she’s … sick herself. We were completely careful to quarantine her and everyone in direct contact with her from the guests.” Her eyes narrowed. “At least until you two went looking for her …”
“But I don’t understand how a human caught it,” Hiroe said. “It’s never jumped species that you know of, right?”
Villanna shook her head. “No, this is the first time. But it’s the same disease. It acts about the same way as it does in aqueans too.”
“She looked pretty good in the holographs earlier tonight,” Hiroe said. “How long ago were they filmed?"
“They weren’t really her,” Villanna said. “Not exactly anyway. They used existing holographic data of her and programmed it with what we needed her to say for the event.”
“How long has she had it, that you know of?”
“About six months,” Villanna said, lower lip quivering. “It was beyond horrible when we found out, but it made everyone even more determined. We haven’t quite developed a cure yet, but one of our scientists discovered something that suppresses symptoms almost entirely. It was amazing; she went back to normal, practically.”
“So what happened?” Hiroe asked.
Villanna sniffled again. “We don’t know,” she said. “Maybe her body got acclimated to the drug? Maybe her aquamycosis is entering a stage we haven’t seen yet and don’t fully understand. Faith has lived much longer—about three times as long—than any aquean we know of who has caught aquamycosis and not recovered on their own. We think it’s the symptom-blocking medicine that kept her going, but it could also have something to do with the way the disease interacts with a human’s immune system. There’s a lot we don’t know about it at this point.”
“Including whether it’s transmittable from her back to an aquean?” Hiroe said with dread.
Villanna looked as if she were going to burst into tears again. “Yes, that’s one thing we do know. Inesse, one of our aides, was infected early on, before we had the symptoms suppressed. There was a sporing and her hazard suit wasn’t totally sealed, and—” Villanna shook her head sadly.
“There wasn’t a sporing while we were in there,” Hiroe said with hope. “Does that mean—”
“Not necessarily,” Villanna said with reluctance. “You have better odds, of course, but if there was one recently, if there were any lingering in the air …”
Hiroe’s stomach lurched. “You said … you think you’re close to a cure?”
Villanna nodded, unsmiling. “It might be a few months though.” She brightened. “But, if you or Louvin were infected, I could make sure you had enough of the symptom suppressant to hold aquamycosis at bay, hopefully until we find a cure!” She beckoned. “Come with me!”
She led Hiroe to a cold storage room, ducked inside, and emerged with something small in her hand.
“Here,” she said. “This will keep you free of symptoms for about a month. If you start showing signs of aquamycosis after that, I’ll make sure you both get extra doses.”
She held out her hand; two tiny vials, each with a small rubber-capped needle, lay in her palm. “I think you should take one now. It’s completely harmless if you don’t have the disease; no side effects at all. You can take the other one to Louvin.”
Hiroe took one and pulled the protective bead from the needle tip. “Where do I inject it?” she asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” Villanna said. “It’s foolproof. Do you want me to do it for you?” Hiroe shook her head. She held up her forearm and steeled herself, then drove the needle in.
She barely felt anything. The vial emptied and she felt immediately better, safer.
“Thank you again,” she said. “Apparently you saving my life is going to be our little thing, huh?”
Villanna managed a laugh. “Glad to help,” she said. Before she could say anything else, a notification beeped on her wrist. She looked at it. “I’ve got to go take care of something,” she said. “You’ll get this to my brother right away and tell him how important it is to take it, right?”
“I promise I’ll do everything I can,” Hiroe said.
“Thank you,” Villanna said. “I know things seem awful now, but I really do think they’ll get better soon. Thank you for being a good friend to my brother, Hiroe.”
Hiroe felt her face get warm, but she merely said “you’re welcome” and they parted ways.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Brooks surveyed the party, which, far from winding down, was becoming more raucous and festive as the night wore on, as he spoke low into his ring.
“No updates on the main mission, but we’re still investigating,” he said. “We detained the demonstrators with no problems.” He paused.
