Destined to Feel (24 page)

He raises his eyebrows at Josef as his head inclines towards me and Josef shakes his head.

His uncle, who is a small solid man with a thick, salt and pepper moustache and well-worn clothes, seems to know not to ask any questions and welcomes us into his small, neat home. The fire is lit to take the chill off the crisp night air and the room is infused with the aroma of a hearty stew. It warms me from the inside out. Josef guides me through the living room and into a small bedroom.

‘I haven’t been able to organise too much at such short notice, but please help yourself to what is available.’ He indicates clothes laid out on the bed and some towels, soap and toothpaste. I remove his white lab coat and gratefully replace it with a soft cashmere cardigan.

‘Thank you, Josef, I don’t know what to say. I think I’m still in shock about this sudden change in events.’ Although I would have thought I’d be used to it by now! ‘Could I ask you a favour?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Would you mind if I used your phone briefly to call my children. It has been days…and…

well…’ My voice catches in my throat and I’m suddenly overcome with emotion. ‘I’m sorry…’

I stutter.

He regards me with a compassionate look, then strides across the room and wraps gentle arms around me. I immediately tense, not used to an unfamiliar man showing me such affection.

He feels my anxiety and releases me, instead reaching out for a tissue and handing it to me. Josef seems like a kind and sensitive man who will do me no harm.

‘Thank you. I just really need to know they are safe and let them know I’m okay as well. It’s been a while since they’ve heard from their mum.’

With a knowing sadness in his eyes, he replies, ‘I understand, but please be brief in case they are already tracing my calls. Actually, it will be safer to use Uncle Serg’s phone, just to make sure.’

As he turns to leave the room, there is a loud knock on the front door. He frantically motions for to me move behind the door next to him and quickly raises his fingers to his lips to ensure I do so as quietly as possible. What now?

I hear voices in a language I don’t understand, which I assume now to be Slovenian, as Josef stares out through a tiny crack in the door. His uncle raises his voice in response to the questions he is being asked and Josef closes the door silently behind us, resting his back against the wooden slats. He closes his eyes briefly as if he is trying to protect me from registering his fear and anxiety, but I can sense it in his body. He is on high alert. I swear my pounding heart is the loudest noise in the room. I suddenly think of Anne Frank and consider the emotions she would have dealt with on a daily basis, obviously facing far more dire consequences of being found. I feel nauseated at the thought of being discovered. Are they here to take me back to the facility?

To take my blood — do they really want it that desperately? Oh, dear lord, now that I’m out, I don’t want to go back. I need to speak to my children. I honestly don’t believe my heart can take much more of this.

The voices die down and we hear the front door of the small cottage close. I let out a sigh of relief, as does Josef. He places his hands on my shoulders and looks directly into my eyes.

‘They are asking the residents in each household in the village whether they have seen a woman who is seeking help.’ He frowns. ‘They are describing you: slender frame, brown, wavy hair just below shoulder length, green eyes and English speaking. They obviously know you are missing. We will be okay, but we can’t stay here long. You must eat first because you are already in a weakened state, then we need to move. I will get the phone for you.’

I move to the edge of the bed to sit down, unsure of the stability of my legs. Josef hands me the phone, anxiety etched in his eyes. ‘Don’t talk too long. We don’t have a lot of time and I don’t want them to trace your call from here.’ Then adds with sympathy: ‘I’ll give you some privacy.’ He turns and closes the door.

My fingers tremble with the realisation that I finally have access to technology again. I quickly dial my home number before anything else happens to disrupt me and take a deep breath in an attempt to compose myself for the conversation.

‘Hello?’ A groggy voice answers.

‘Hi, Robert, it’s me. Did I wake you?’

‘Alex, hi…well, it’s pretty early in the morning.’

‘Oh, so the kids are asleep.’ Disappointment washes over me.

‘Yeah, of course. School doesn’t start till the sun comes up.’ I can hear his sleepy smile.

‘How are you?’

‘Oh, ah, I’m good. I just really wanted to talk to them, say hi, you know…’

‘You don’t want me to wake them, do you? They’ve been getting your text messages. Sounds like you’ve been really busy.’

‘Oh, well, yes, I have I suppose.’ I’ve been sending messages? How convenient. ‘Sorry I haven’t called.’

‘Are you okay, you sound funny.’

I can’t help the tears sliding down my face. ‘I’m okay, just busy and tired. Are you all okay?’

‘Yeah, we’re fine. Jordan’s started a new group project at school so we had a few of his mates over, and Elizabeth has been practising for her school concert. She’s taking it very seriously, of course.’

My heart swells with the normality of his words; I feel I could stay listening to him talk about their activities forever. A knock on the door indicates that my time must be over.

‘Oh, Robert, sorry to interrupt, I need to go. I have, er, another meeting now. Sorry I can’t talk longer. Please tell them I love them so much and give them a huge hug and kiss for me as soon as they wake up.’

‘Of course. Are you sure you’re fine, you don’t sound it?’

I straighten my shoulders to affirm to myself that I am, particularly as I know they are safe and sound, sleeping in their beds. Josef stands by my side.

‘Yes, just a little tired. Love to you all. I’ll call again soon. ’Bye.’ I press end and reluctantly put the phone in Josef’s waiting palm, attempting to quickly wipe the tears streaming down my face. I want to speak to Jeremy but suddenly realise that I don’t know his mobile number by heart. I’m only used to dialling it from my phone’s address book. In any case, I suspect that now is not the time to make another call. Josef still appears worried about his uncle’s visitors.

‘Thank you, Josef,’ I say softly, acknowledging the risk he has taken in ensuring my safety and peace of mind. He takes my hand and leads me out of the room to the kitchen table to eat.

The goulash is hearty and delicious as I realise it’s the heaviest meal I’ve had in my stomach for days. I feel full and suddenly weary with the weight of everything that has occurred since I stepped off the plane in London.

After the food, Josef gives me a moment to freshen up before ushering me outside and towards a car.

His uncle has given him some water, bread and fruit for our journey, which I’m assuming may be long, and I thank him for his hospitality. I can only hope he doesn’t suffer any repercussions from harbouring us in his home. He hugs me as if he is my uncle and hands me a blanket to keep me warm. He can barely speak any English, but his body language is kind and engaging. I rub my stomach to indicate how much I enjoyed his home-style cooking which triggers a giant grin on his face. I think it is the first time I’ve had such a heartfelt smile for at least a week. Josef bundles me into the passenger seat while he takes the driver’s seat. I fasten my seat belt and lay the blanket over my body. I could ask questions, but exhaustion is settling into my bones and along with a full belly, I feel like I could easily drift off to sleep. He is focussed and silent as we drive off into the unknown darkness of the night.

Jeremy

It has been days since we received any signal from Alexa’s bracelet, but I can’t bring myself to leave this part of Europe. My rational brain understands that she must be…dead — the word is still difficult even in my thoughts — but my instinct tells me I’m missing something, something obvious as if it is right under my nose, and that’s probably because her body has simply vanished. How the hell do you destroy a family and tell children their mother has died and they’ll never lay eyes on her again? This has been ripping me apart for the last two days. Since Martin’s arrival, I finally convinced Sam to check in with the other members of the forum and glean any further information. Apparently Dr Lauren Bertrand made other commitments the second the forum was postponed. Professor Schindler from Germany was still keen to catch up with Sam on some of his recent work so they’ve decided to meet up in London with the other two members from the United Kingdom on an informal basis. I have the feeling he was almost relieved to be leaving me to go back to the world he knows and, of course, to take his mind off the predicament we face here.

Salina has been very patient in accompanying me to retrace our steps since our arrival in Ljubljana. Or should I say Martin has assigned Salina to me to ensure I don’t cause undue trouble. I just know something is fundamentally askew.

Martin has had one of his men stationed at the chateau since just after his arrival here, and he has reported that it seems to have been abandoned. I insisted on returning there myself and we searched the surrounding gardens and looked through the windows. I even climbed a trellis against the wall to peer into the next floor’s windows, and almost came crashing down, much to Salina and Martin’s horror. I doubt they’ll let me be too involved in any further action now —

but there was no sign of life anywhere. It felt wrong, as if everyone had to pack up and leave quickly, unexpectedly.

I had the same hunch when we returned to the hospital in Lake Bled. It was still operating, of course, but none of the staff who were on duty the night Alexa’s body was discovered were on duty when we returned, and no one could say when those others would be rostered on next. It’s as if everyone who was involved in Alexa’s disappearance has undertaken a code of silence or, literally, vanished into thin air. Each path we tried to venture down was blocked, or simply petered out. Martin was becoming as frustrated as me.

The only positive link we’ve made is between our forum member Lauren Bertrand and Madeleine Jurilique, the European Managing Director of Xsade. They made a number of phone calls to each other over the past few months and attended a Swiss finishing school together in their youth. Unable to discover whether their relationship is significant or not, Martin sent one of each of his men to track the two women down and source more information. Apparently this has proved a more difficult task than we first thought. We are still awaiting updates.

It has been hard to work out exactly what we should do, but there is no way I am going to give up, and I won’t until my heart stops beating.

It’s now just Martin, Salina and myself who are left, drinking short blacks in a cafe in Ljubljana, not wanting to leave any stone unturned just in case we find a trace or hint of anything, but with each passing hour I become more despondent. As they sit absorbed in some documents that have just come through I excuse myself and walk outdoors to call Lionel McKinnon — our Chair —

and advise him that Alexandra will no longer be involved in the forum in any capacity, but I can’t bring myself to tell him what happened. It still feels too raw and somehow premature.

Perhaps I’m living in complete denial.

I continue walking around the cobbled streets in a semi-daze, not really noticing the last of the sun shining through the clouds as my thoughts rush through my brain, unabated. Even if she were alive, under no circumstances would I condone Alexa being involved in any further experimentation. I always thought Alexa was exceptional, but even I was shocked by the results of the experiment I persuaded her to undertake.

Our weekend together somehow triggered an unusual sequence of events that overly stimulated her nervous system, resulting in her neuroendocrine cells releasing spontaneous surges of adrenaline. This, combined with the secretion of pituitary hormones into her bloodstream, seemed to enable Alexa’s levels of serotonin and oxytocin to unexpectedly peak at the same time that her neural pathways were showing heightened activity. These irregular and unusual findings boded well for our work on depression but most significant of all were the results of her blood tests at Avalon. Alexa’s red blood cell antigens stemming from an allele —

essentially an alternative form of gene with distinct DNA coding that can be passed on from parent to child — showed particularly unique characteristics. Never in a million years would I have thought that her blood would uncover a previously undiscovered self-healing agent. I always guessed as much but now I have absolutely proven she is truly an enigma.

This instantly became so much bigger than a cure for depression. The worst-case scenario would simply mean that she had an almost unique blood type; the best-case scenario is that her blood could potentially be used to fight cancerous cells. Unfortunately, the best-case scenario for humanity is the one that places her in the highest category of personal danger. When our computers were hacked into, I needed to come up with a plan to let people believe that all type AB blood had the same characteristics that we discovered in Alexa’s, without providing the specific details. If the truth were discovered…well, maybe it was, which is why they have her and I don’t.

I wanted to explain it to her in person, after Ed Applegate, my research partner, and I had spent more time analysing the details of these peculiar results. The more I discovered, the greater the risk in talking to her over the phone or via email, particularly after the continued hackings. I just couldn’t take the chance. I decided to present some of the results in Zurich to distract other scientists and researchers from her direct involvement, ensuring publicity and casting the net wide to include volunteers with an AB blood grouping. This had been a successful strategy, or so I thought at the time. Obviously, there was at least one company who had illegal access to our results and decided to go straight to the source, Alexa.

If only I’d followed my gut instinct in the first place we would never be in this horrendous mess, but I couldn’t get that blackmail letter out of my mind. My self-loathing is absolute. If I had never re-entered her life, she would be a mother happily looking after her children, untouched by these recent horrors. I’ve been attempting to keep myself preoccupied, distracted, hoping that I’ll wake up and find that this is a nightmare.