Authors: Michael Cordy
Joachim nodded, and gestured to the vials around the room. 'He's tried most of them.' He raised the NiL #042 vial in his hand. 'With this one, his exact words were, "It works too well." Basically, it's more intense and less discriminating than NiL Sixty-nine or NiL. Seventy-two. It features the same obsessive-love aspects, but none of the sexual chemistry. NiL Forty-two has no gender bias.' Joachim smiled at Helmut, then reached into his coat pocket and extracted a PowerDermic vaccine gun. 'As you requested, Vati, I made this up at Comvec. It's NiL Forty-two imprinted with your genetic facial code.'
Helmut took the primed vaccine gun and rested it in his palm. It felt warm on his cold skin.
'As you asked, I used the same stock vector that Bacci uses for thepermanent Nil Seventy-two. It'll insert the genesinto the subject's stem cells and last for his or her lifetime.'
'But you could use a different vector? One you've developed at Comvec?'
Joachim narrowed his eyes. 'Given time, I could use any vector to deliver the genes. But why--'
Before he could say more, Helmut embraced his son, clasped the back of his neck with his right hand, and pulled his head close to his own. 'You've done well, Joachim, very well,' he whispered. 'I won't forget this.'
At first Joachim looked shocked. Then he flushed with pride. Helmut couldn't remember when, if ever, he had embraced either of his sons. When he stepped back, he kept his left hand on Joachim's shoulder. With the other he slipped the now spent vaccine gun into his jacket pocket. If he was to fulfil his dream, he needed Joachim's unquestioning loyalty. And by tomorrow morning he would have it. 'Say nothing of this to anyone.'
'Not even to Max?'
He squeezed his son's shoulder. 'Not even to Max. This is our secret.'
Joachim beamed, and Helmut could almost see his son grow in stature. 'Is this a new project, Vati? Separate from Ilium?'
Kappel paused. 'I see it more as a sub-project.' He thought of the possibilities and a frisson ran through him. He would not only match Dieter Kappel's achievements in furthering the Kappel dynasty, he would eclipse them.
'What do we call it?'
Helmut shrugged. 'Keep it simple. Name it after the goddess of love, Venus.'
Joachim grinned. "What's it about? Who are you going to use the drug on?'
'I'll tell you everything tomorrow, including the refinements I need you to make. And don't forget -- we keep this to ourselves.'
His younger son rubbed the back of his neck absently as he nodded. Then the door to the main laboratory opened and he ushered Helmut out of the sample room.
WHENMAX ENTERED THE LABORATORY AND SAW HIS FATHER'S hand laid casually on his half-brother's shoulder, he sensed that something significant had occurred between them, from which he had been excluded. The trademark cravat his father used to hide the cancer scar on his throat was a brighter silk than usual, and its pattern was similar to Joachim's bow-tie. And Helmut's new, more youthful haircut made him look uncannily like his younger son. It was as if they were wearing a matching uniform and the effect increased Max's irrational but growing feeling of isolation.
Since the night of the fashion show he and his father hadn't discussed Phoebe or what had happened. Helmut hadn't even acknowledged Max's role in bringing them together -- and now he seemed to be favouring Joachim, as though his half-brother were leading the project.
'Have I missed anything?' he asked.
His father shook his head. 'No, you're just in time.'
Max kept his face impassive. 'Bacci here?'
'Having lunch with his fiancee,' Joachim told him. 'Said he was making some last-minute arrangements for his wedding.' He grinned at his father. 'Everyone seems to be getting married these days.'
Max heard the door open behind him and Professor Bacci appeared, wearing the same ill-fitting suit he had worn on his first visit to Kappel Privatbank. He smiled broadly at Max, and as he shook Bacci's hand Max felt a sudden fondness for him. Something about the man's smile reminded him of his school swimming master- he'd been one of the few people who had helped him after his mother's death by teaching him to control his pain and exorcize his guilt through exercise and self-discipline.
'I hurried back,' Bacci said. 'Have you been here long?'
'Just got here,' said Max.
'Likewise,' said Helmut.
Bacci turned to Joachim. 'Everything okay?'
Joachim took his seat at the computer. 'Of course.'
Helmut reached into his jacket, pulled out an envelope and handed it to Bacci. Why don't we let Joachim get back to work we go into your office to discuss business?'
In his office Bacci sat behind his desk and opened the envelope. His eyes widened. 'This is a cheque for three million euros.'
'Look at the money as a down-payment, a show of our faith in you and proof of our intentions,' said Helmut.
Max opened his briefcase, took out a bound document and laid it, with three copies of a contract, on the desk. He tapped the bound document. "This is our business proposal for getting your discovery to market. It's basically a hard copy of what I've already presented to you, and details all timescales and budget breakdowns. Check it and tell me if you have any questions.' He tapped the contracts. 'These are our terms of engagement, which we need you to sign.'
Bacci picked up the top copy and glanced through the text.
'We believe in your venture and are willing to take all the risk,' Max said. 'We'll provide full funding and consultancy services till the first sales kick in, including all regulatory and technical support via Joachim and Comvec. In effect, we'll be buying a majority shareholding in the venture without the control. It's your vision and you'll retain control of the project's direction. Once we reach the market you'll be encouraged to use your share of the profits to buy us out at the revised market value.' Max smiled. 'Kappel Privatbank is a bank and our offshoot Comvec was created to launch set-ups like yours successfully on to the market. We're not a pharmaceutical company. We want to get you up and running, then walk away with a good return on our investment. A very good return.
'Make no mistake, though. This is a serious commitment on our part because, as I explained in our proposal, it could take some time to reach the market. Your technology is potentially controversial so we need to ensure we're seen to be ethically sound before we approach the European and American drug regulatory bodies. Both safety and efficacy clinical trials will need to be conducted with painstaking care, and that'll require patience from both of us. In return for this commitment and long-term view, we need an assurance that if anything happens to you, all your hardware, laboratory equipment and records come to us. That way we'll be able to claw back at least some of our investment. Does that sound reasonable?'
Bacci nodded. 'I think so.'
'Good. The contracts must be signed and returned to us by the weekend.'
There was a knock at the door and Joachim poked his head into the room. 'Carlo, I've been checking your computer records for future clinical trials, and there are a couple of folders I don't understand. One's called "Prosopagnosia".'
'That's for my daughter. It's got nothing to do with NiL. Some of my work overlaps with her research and throughout the NiL project I've been saving relevant findings to share with her when we go public. What's the other folder?'
'It's an empty sub-folder in the "NiL Side Effects and Safeguards" folder. You've labelled it: "Zero Substitution Effect".'
'It's just an early safeguard I put in place. You can delete it.'
Before Joachim could say more, the phone rang on Bacci's desk. Max watched him glance down at the display and pick up the receiver as soon as he recognized the caller's number. 'Maria.' He put his hand over the mouthpiece. 'My fiancee. Sorry.'
Max, Joachim and their father moved to leave, but Bacci gestured to them to stay. As he listened, his expression darkened and his face drained of colour. When he hung up he was pale and his hands were shaking. He stood up, went over to a television set in the corner and switched it on.
On the screen a journalist stood in an alpine setting. Behind him apolice cordon encircled what looked like a large white tent screening off part of the woods. The journalist spoke in a calm, clear voice: 'The decomposed bodies found in these remote woods are believed to be those of Marco Trapani and three employees. The manner of their deaths has led police to suspect the involve-ment of a rival Corsican Mafia.'
They watched the report in silence. Then Bacci switched off the television and returned to his desk, head in hands. 'It's unbelievable,' he said. 'My cousin's family wasn't involved in the Mafia. Not now.'
'I'm sorry,' Max said. He hadn't thought of the Sicilian since he had disposed of the man's Corsican rival in St Martin, and had vetted Professor Bacci's background.
'It's a shock to us all,' said Helmut. 'There's no proof he was linked to organized crime, and we certainly had no reason to suspect his dealings. He might just have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.'
'I can't believe it,' Bacci said again. 'He was such a good cousin. He introduced me to you.' He pointed to the cheque and the contracts. 'He made all this possible.'
Max saw his father glance away from Bacci with the ghost of a smile on his face. It told Max all he needed to know. 'I think we should close now,' he said. "We'll meet again to discuss any other matters.'
He waited until his father was outside in the car park before he challenged him. 'Why didn't you tell me you'd killed Trapani?'
Helmut Kappel lit one of his black cigarettes and took a long drag. For a second, Max thought he was going to deny it. 'Max, Bacci told Trapani something about the drug, not much, but enough to make him curious. He was pressuring us. He had to be stopped.'
'That's not the point. Why didn't you tell me?'
His father stopped walking. 'Max, I run this family. I decide who knows what. And I decided you didn't need to know.'
'What else have you decided not to tell me?'
Helmut looked at him hard, then slapped Max on the back. 'C'mon, Max, it's no big deal.'
'What else haven't you told me?'
'About Ilium?Nothing. You know everything now. Satisfied?' His father didn't wait for a reply, just walked to his limousine.
AS THE GRAND GATES OF SCHLOSS KAPPEL OPENED, ISABELLA lowered the limousine window and showed her invitation to the elegantly dressed man with the eyepatch by the gatehouse. He paved the car on, and she glanced again at the gilt-edged card. The handwritten Gothic script informed her that Helmut Kappel requested her presence at a surprise party to be held at Schloss Kappel. All her travel had been arranged and paid for, including her plane ticket to Zurich and the limousine from the airport. No other information was given about the party, but the date, 25 October, coincided with Phoebe Davenport's birthday. She had hardly seen Phoebe since their talk on the night of Odin's fashion show. Isabella had thrown herself into her work and Phoebe had rarely come back tothe apartment: she was spending more and more time with Helmut Kappel - she had even cancelled a number of high-profile assignments to be with him.
And now it appeared he was throwing her a surprise birthday party.
Max wouldundoubtedly be there, but if Phoebe and Helmut remained together, Isabella knew she would have to get used to bumping into him.
As the intimidating grey mansion appeared in the dusk Isabella wondered what sort of party it would be. When she had called Kathryn and Gisele, they had confirmed they were coming but hadn't been able to tell her any more than she already knew. There were few lights in the windows, and the round corner towers and heavy facade brought to mind a grim but worthy institution, a psychiatric hospital or orphanage. She shivered when she thought of her vibrant young friend walking its dark corridors with her ancient lover.
There were no other cars on the driveway when hers pulled up outside the main entrance, but as soon as she got out, the front door opened and a short man in a tailcoat took her case. 'Guten abend, Dr Bacci.'
'Good evening.'
The hall contained some exquisite pieces of furniture, but the dark wood, ancient rugs and staring oil portraits of the Kappels' white-haired ancestors made it too gloomy to be welcoming. Isabella felt as if she had stepped into another world.
'Herr Kappel and Fraulein Davenport are currently in Zurich. They will return within the hour. I've been asked to show you to your room so you can settle in.'
'Have any other guests arrived yet?'
'You are the first, Fraulein.'
'How many are coming to the party?'
'A few,' the man said vaguely, as he led her up the wide staircase and down the seemingly endless first-floor landing. Stags' heads with full antlers adorned the dark-panelled walls. 'You're in the east wing.' Eventually he stopped outside a door and turned its large brass handle. 'This is your room.' It was a large chamber with a towering ceiling, tall windows dressed with thick dark curtains and a huge bed. There was an adjoining bathroom. She quelled a nervous urge to laugh. It was like the surreal set of an Addams Family film. Even the butler, or whatever he was, looked straight out of Central Casting. She couldn't imagine living in this house.
'I hope you find the room comfortable,' the man said. 'There's a phone by the bed. If you need anything dial zero. You're requested to come down to the library at seven thirty for drinks.'