Chapter Forty: At the Heart of Farfeeza

Bradlee got off the phone with Priss Valdez and reflected on their conversation. She was unhappy and, as usual, she conveyed her unhappiness in upbeat tones. “I can’t close the deal with Broadway Inc. and Jock Two Feathers if our position is weak.”

Did he have to do everything? Explain everything? “Fripp isn’t interested in pushing the issue. The violence is too much for him. Says he didn’t go into business to fight a war.”

“Who’s running the show over there, Bradlee?”

Rhetorical, provocative, void of importance. “It’s not that simple. You know that.”

“This drug of yours was supposed to fix everything.”

Impertinence. Without Paregane she’d have one paddle in the water. Now she had four. “We didn’t expect it to kill so many people nor did we expect it to have the opposite effect on morale.”

“That’s altogether too much uncertainty. Our surveyors are too afraid to go into the field without major back up. I can’t persuade the others to use remote sensing devices. It’s a mess here. Every dog has its nose in the bowl, understand? The military presence provokes further attacks. GMZers have taken sides with the bloody Indians. Now, listen, there’s more. They’ve been made the eighth nation of the Haudenosaunee. This is a disaster for us and your Bryson is in the thick of it. She’s fucking up Paregane, and now the water deal.”

Hmmmm. Bryson. It was only a matter of time. “Surely not the water deal–”

“No? Then tell me why her husband’s been made one of the eighth nation sachems?”

“Sachem? What on earth is a Sachem.”

“It’s a chief of some sort. You know, an hereditary boss, like a lord.”

The concept was somewhat familiar. He was English.

“There’s–” he heard her shuffling through things, “an Amish fellow named Stoltz, a farmer, some sort of cosmic name, let’s see, yes Borealis Gnomen and a Rastafarian named Jordan. I’ll tell you what else, Bryson’s husband’s girlfriend is their den mother.”

That was funny. He chuckled sourly. “Den what?”

“They’re bloody matriarchal something or other. She and her sisters and their descendants will name the future Sachems, and she’s pregnant.”

This was just speculation. DOD was always prey to bad intelligence. “Astonishing intelligence.”

“It wasn’t easy, I can tell you.”

Stupidity is always more difficult, by definition. But as always, it forced an answer. “Bryson has no idea about any of this.”

“Too brilliant? Where’s the brilliant cure for Paregane then? I thought you had some man on ice, a man who can’t die.”

Was there any order to the list of complaints? He would start to keep a record. “Yes, but the study is going slowly.”

“Well, if Bryson knows what’s good for her she’ll move a little faster. The only reason she hasn’t been picked up by security is you my friend, and I’m the one who has your ass covered.”

Arrogant display of power to mask vulnerability. “I’ll try.”

“Good.”

Then it was his turn. “Valdez, General, you’ve got too many irons in the fire. Put the water on the back burner, till we’ve dealt with

Paregane. Paregane is the key to sales and sales keep the stock price up, which puts us on council. Let me work with Fripp a bit. I’m sure once he’s cooled down about his wife he’ll come around. Once we make the deal with Two Feathers and Spahn we can drop Paregane and move on to the water.”

“It’s not just me Bradlee. There’s pressure from other DOD members to get going. The army corps needs another project. The west is thirsty. Now’s the time to move, before the Haudenosaunee can consolidate. Then they might want in on the deal, or queer it altogether.”

The knife is in, now twist. “I can’t make any promises.”

She laughed brightly. “That’s not what I want to hear.”

He faced the windows and leaned back in his chair. The screens lit up behind him, views of the lab, her office, building entrances and exits. There were weird little knots of cloud stretching out in long lines over the bay. He called Fripp.

“Bradlee, Julie’s a maniac. Without that drug it’s bedlam here.”

He imagined Julie Fripp screaming in a hallway, kicking in a door. “I’ve just been on the phone with Valdez, sir.”

“That woman is obsessed.”

“Which one?”

“All of ’em. Just a moment.” Bradlee heard mumbling and then the low buzz of an electric razor. “I haven’t shaved yet. Tell Valdez we don’t have the votes in council today. I’m getting slammed on Paregane from all sides. Police, lawyers, doctors, diplomats. Jesus Bradlee, Paregane was supposed to solve problems. You’ve fucked up my marriage, you’ve up fucked everything.”

What does the barber charge to cut the throat of the man he’s shaving? “That’s not entirely warranted, Fripp.”

“Don’t you ever crack?”

Weak bastard. “The stock is holding steady.”

“The stock is what? Holding steady? A hundred million bucks, that’s what I’ve lost. That bitch Bryson sold her shares. How does that work?”

“You made two hundred million before you lost a hundred. Looks to me like you’re a hundred up. And Bryson is a scientist. She needed the cash for her aging husband.”

“Oh, horseshit. She turned Julie on me. Did you tell her that? Did you?”

“I delivered the message very clearly. Her explanation is true, if inexcusable. She was drunk.”

“We were all drunk.”

Distract him. “I’m going to see about the test subject.”

“That man who can’t die?”

You can give a phrase to a man like a toy to a child and watch him lose himself playing with it. “Yes, that’s the one.”

“Curious case, that. Well, don’t prolong things. At a certain point we ought to cut our losses. Go into illegal sales, make money, sure, but we make no claims for the drug, we abandon everything, the over-the-counter strategy, overseas sales. Terminate the study, euthanize that fellow.”

“If it comes to that.”

“It only takes one successful lawsuit in this business to bring the whole thing down. It’s the avalanche and we end up paying out billions.”

“I understand.”

It was the kind of morning he hated. He drank black coffee and tried to plot his course. He turned from the windows and said, chateau; aerial views of South Island fjords and grazing sheep popped across the screens.

He called for Boyle. Laraby was so sure of Boyle, but Bradlee had his doubts. His behaviour was erratic. He showed the proper resolve in delicate situations, but he sweated a lot. There were times when Bradlee thought Boyle might be conscience stricken, he had so little gusto for the work. That was o.k. Men like Boyle could be conflicted so long as they were more afraid of him than anyone else. The danger was always that he would strike out on his own, or that he would have an agenda. Well, the doubts remained nebulous. Part of the whole business he found himself in. There was an undetected dimension he had felt all along and Boyle had part of his being in it. What was one to do? Today he felt unusually fatalistic. Bradlee normally scoffed at the idea of fate, one took what one needed; one plotted a course. Wisdom dictated tactical change and revision, there were things beyond one’s control, but even in the midst of uncertainty there were always choices to be made and failure was usually a failure to read correctly what was going on. There were times however when he abandoned this belief and felt himself being borne along by forces foreign to his reckoning. It was a feeling he detested but he had to admit that there were times when it became the entire strategy, that one could be carried to a new, unexpected place beyond danger, where a new opportunity lurked. Or it could be a disaster.

Reliance on spies was a necessity yet no single spy could be trusted; one needed a network of spies. He had not been back at Monozone long enough to establish such a thing. He had no one in Laraby’s office to check up on Boyle for instance. In fact, when he considered the matter, he himself was the nexus of a network of spies kept by Valdez. She had them everywhere and knew everything. And Fripp probably imagined that Bradlee was his spy in at DOD. And so it went, on and on. Every operator an operand. He would have to keep a close eye on Boyle, that was all. And as long as he needed money, he’d be back for more. He most certainly still did Laraby’s bidding, and whether Laraby had thrown in his lot with Bradlee or not, Bradlee didn’t know. He did know that Laraby never threw in his lot with anyone more than provisionally. He was a position player. The design, however, was clear. He and Valdez and Fripp were after bigger things than Laraby’s office racket. Laraby in that scheme was nothing but a mite. Yes, but even the biggest game depends upon the details. The fart of a flea could bring them all down and that insight was his alone.

Boyle popped his head in the office door and Bradlee viewed him with the usual combination of grudging admiration and disgust. Weak in so many ways and yet efficient enough with the proper prodding. His protests of vestigial conscience were so easily bought. Why did he bother? Between war and police work the man had to be well beyond even a delusional redemption. He was surprised there was a scrap of scruple left in him.

“Yeah boss?” he asked, face half covered by the door. Bradlee raised his eyebrows and met one eye. Boyle ventured further in. He hovered around the chair, nervous, his mouth tight. Evidently he relaxed around Bryson. Bradlee shared none of her enthusiasm for his small talk. He tolerated it because it was during such sessions that men like him unwittingly divulged any secrets they had.

“Sit down, Boyle. Cigarette?”

“I got my own.”

“Let’s smoke, shall we?”

They smoked and watched the TV’s. “Sheep,” Boyle said with a scowl. The screens flipped and showed figures from the world’s financial exchanges.

“You see there? Monozone ticked down a point. I thought we’d plugged every last leak. And after sacking that lawyer I’m sure we took the buzz out of any lawsuits. Still, the uncertainty persists.” He looked at Boyle, indicating that any response he had he was free to make, but the man was too obtuse to bite. “How’s it progressing over there, have you any sense?”

Boyle nodded and exhaled. “It’s too screwy for me to say. There’s something fucked up about that guy though. She’s nutty about him.”

“Ho ho. You sound jealous.”

Boyle blanched and swallowed hard. Bradlee ho-hoed some more. “Mr. Bradlee, no. I’m a married man.”

“And she’s a married woman.”

“It ain’t like that wid us.”

“But you like her.”

“Sure. But it ain’t, you know, improper.”

“Strictly Platonic?”

Boyle’s eyes narrowed. “Whatever that is. Sounds dirty to me.”

“No no. Jealousy is a feeling that comes up between friends. You’ve grown close these past few months.”

“It’s a job’s all.”

“They certainly keep busy. All those machines.” He leaned back and folded his hands across his chest.

“They gimme da creeps. Humming and buzzing and spitting out waves and data. There’s the one with da weird pictures. Da brain boss, it’s got like these bowling balls with spikes and suction cups rolling around in it, and pink tumble weeds. Sometimes you see this nest, this crazy ball of shit with green and red marbles shooting around and other times, it’s like all black accept for this, I dunno, you now how dust is in a light? That.” Bradlee pretended interest. He cleared his throat and all of the screens became a giant display filled with the visual data they were discussing. “Sheesh boss, don’t do that!”

Bradlee chuckled and his eyes misted over. “Bryson’s under quite a bit of pressure to get a result here.” He blinked at the screens and they became a checkerboard: financial data, the news, his chateau, the entrances and exits. Boyle said nothing. “She seems,” Bradlee paused. “Different. Little things. We’ve known each other for decades of course. I can’t help but sense if something’s a little bit off. I’m actually concerned. For her health. Have you noticed?”

“Just that she don’t do nothing but work.”

“You know that we might, with very little warning, have to close up shop? We’d have to take care of Felix then.”

“Take care of how?”

“Well, I won’t get too specific, but there are legal complications, trade secrets we’d have to protect.”

Boyle shook his head, thinking. “The doc’d never go for that. She really loves this guy. Feels guilty about his wife.”

“That’s my concern exactly. Bryson’s such, er, a passionate person, she might not see the necessity. I’ve discussed the possibility. Do you share this affection for our test subject?”

Boyle laughed. “Fuck no.”

“Good. When the time comes, you’ll do what’s necessary?” Boyle looked coy, licked his lips and screwed up his eyes. “Of course you’ll be paid.”

“If I’m goin’ ta hell boss, I gotta do some good for it.”

Bradlee chuckled. “But Boyle, this is hell.”

“We ain’t gettin’ tortured.”

“That’s because we’re management.” He waited for Boyle to laugh and when he didn’t, continued. “I wish I could be sure about Bryson. I’m worried.”

“She’s fine.”

“But the temptations can be extreme. There are, rumours. Things I’ve seen and heard, vague intimations. If we are going to succeed in this very difficult phase of our project I have to be absolutely sure about her loyalty. You wouldn’t, er, hold out on me? If she were say, plotting to get Felix out of here without my knowledge? A quixotic gesture, absurd, but in her mind compelling, perhaps because of its patent absurdity? Because you know, the hand that gives,” he opened a drawer of his desk, took out a card and slid it across the shiny, empty top to Boyle, “can also take.” He took out a silver .45 revolver from the same drawer and opened it, examining the loaded chambers.

Boyle swelled with indignation. “I ain’t gonna fail you boss and I’m tellin’ you, she’s a good lady. She never says nothing against you or the company. And she’s been good to me.”

“She’s been good to me too,” Bradlee observed with a strange smile, one he almost never let play on his lips and which he quickly replaced with one of amused irony.

“No boss, I mean, like, she got my kid into college. That’s how good she is. Because of her my kid’s gonna be a doctor! She didn’t need ta do that, didn’t ask for nothing in return, and didn’t want me to tell no one cause she was embarrassed. I mean, I’m in despair over this thing and she dragged it out of me one day and just like that, she picks up the phone and calls her friend Doctor Velodia at Cornell and boom, Medear is in. That’s good people. It don’t get more loyal than that.”

Bradlee suppressed, with great effort, the instinct to swallow. He blinked, felt the water fill his eyes and kept his breathing even. He even smiled. “She’s certainly very kind. You know, I just had a thought, an inspiration really. Would you get the car Boyle and bring it around front? I feel like taking a drive.”