True (25 page)

And there was always the chance that Phoebe's love was genuine and Helmut had done nothing wrong. But when she recalled him abusing Phoebe on the night of the engagement party, she thought that the chance of that was slim.

She flicked through the folders until she came to one labelled 'Prosopagnosia'. She opened it, saw the contents, and almost cried. In the midst of her father's madness he had thought of her. He had itemized every area of his research that might be beneficial to her research into face-blindness. But even that didn't justify what he had done.

She stood up and paced around Phoebe's apartment. Everywhere she looked she saw photographs and mementoes of their friendship that made her determined to unearth the truth. But what could she do?

If she told Phoebe her suspicions, her friend would laugh at her. Or worse. Phoebe was about to marry the man she loved and would hardly thank Isabella for wrecking her big day by suggesting her love might have been drug-induced.

She could challenge Helmut Kappel direct, but what would that achieve? He was hardly likely to admit any wrongdoing.

Apart from the Zero Substitution Effect she had read about, there were no safeguards and certainly no antidotes. Her father had apparendy decided that since most versions of his drug lasted only two days, there was no need to develop anything to reverse the DNA changes in the subject's target cells. Even when he had created the permanent version, he still hadn't deemed it necessary. After all, who needed an antidote for love?

She walked out on to the terrace and breathed in the cold evening air. A plane flew overhead, lights blinking in the dusk. Her own flight left tomorrow for the wedding. She knew only that she had to be at the airport by six o'clock tomorrow morning and would return almost four days later. She paced around the terrace. Her only option was to go to the wedding as planned and, while she was there, try to find proof that Helmut Kappel had used the drug.

What if he had? And what if he had used the permanent version? How could she rescue Phoebe without an antidote?

She retreated to the apartment. Her head ached and she went into her bedroom for aspirins. As she took the analgesics box from a cupboard by the bed, her eye strayed to the corkboard on the wall. She focused on a card that featured a childish drawing of a woman in a white coat.

'Christ,' she said, and dropped the unopened analgesics box. She rushed back to the laptop, checked the formula of her father's drug, and scrolled through his folders until she found the one she was looking for. 'Thanks, Papa,' she muttered. It was worth a try. She glanced at the clock on the wall, grabbed her coat and car keys, then dashed out of the apartment.

MOMENTS EARLIER

MAX KAPPEL PACED THE DARKENING PAVEMENT AND LOOKED UP AT the lights in the top-floor apartment. The glow from the street doors beckoned, but the road between him and her apartment represented the Rubicon, a river that divided his current life from a separate, unknowable future. Once he crossed it and entered the building, he could never go back.

As he stared up at the penthouse windows, he imagined Isabella padding around the apartment, making coffee, switching on the television, getting on with her life. The more he thought about her, the more he admired her. She was alone in the world, yet she had handled her father's murder without shutting down her feelings.

Ever since his mother's murder, he had buried his emotions in ice. And over the years, encouraged by his father, he had allowed its numbing, protective shield to freeze his heart. When he had first seen Isabella in Antibes, though, the ice had started to crack. He knew now that she had touched him even before he had taken the drug.

He had always depended on the ice to protect him, but watching Isabella deal with her loss had made him see that the ice had become a prison. He understood now that every dive he had made had been a bid for freedom, a desperate attempt to resurrect his childhood self.

As he acknowledged the thaw, he knew it would bring pain. By allowing himself to become his mother's son again, he had to accept the things he had done in his father's name. He had to face again the tormentors he thought he had banished for ever: guilt, grief and self-disgust.

He also had to face the family's vengeance when they discovered he had betrayed them. He knew better than anyone how ruthless his father could be. He looked up at the apartment and took a deep breath. 'So be it,' he whispered into the chilly air. He owed the Kappels nothing. He had spent his life following his father's code, yet Helmut Kappel still distrusted and betrayed him. And now he had sanctioned the murder of the only other person Max had ever cared about.

He thought of his last night in Antibes with Isabella, when they had watched Wings of Desire. He remembered the scene when the angel had fallen to earth, surrendering his unfeeling invulnerability to experience all the vivid sensations, painful and pleasurable, of being human. He himself might be more demon than angel, Max thought, but he could still surrender his emotional invulnerability to feel again the pain and joy of being human. He had been given a second chance. He had been unable to rescue his mother from his father, but he could warn Isabella and save her.

A weight lifted from him and new resolve flooded through him, filling him with something he hadn't felt in years. Hope.

He squared his shoulders and stepped into the road. If anyone could protect Isabella from his father, he could. His father had trained him well. When Max had let his mother die he had been a boy. Now he was a man. He wouldn't fail this time. Even if his own father tried to kill him for what he was about to do.

The speeding stretch limousine missed him by inches and halted just in front of him. Before he could register what was happening, two men had climbed out. One pressed a gun into his ribs while the other bundled him into the rear seat. The heavily tinted windows were closed and the black leather interior smelt of his father's cigarettes. The car pulled into a space beyond the apartment and stopped.

'Max, I apologize for being so heavy-handed, but it's for your own good. A precaution to stop you doing anything foolish.'

Helmut Kappel and Stein sat opposite him. Two Stasi agents flanked him. One pressed a gun into his ribs. His father wore an expression of disappointment. What were you about to do, Max? Warn her?'

"Why should I? I assumed you'd exclude Isabella from Ilium after what I'd said.' He wanted to lash out, but he knew the Stasi would pull the trigger if he moved.

'You heard us this morning, didn't you, Max? You heard what I'd planned for your friend.' He didn't sound angry. 'If you tell her anything I'll have to kill her anyway. I know it's hard but we're here to help.' Helmut reached across and embraced him, holding him closer than Max could remember his father holding him. He didn't respond.

'I forgive you for betraying me, Max,' Helmut whispered in his ear, with the intimacy of a lover. You're still my elder son, best man at my wedding. This will make it easier to remember your duty.'

Max felt a breath of air below his left ear and heard a hiss. He recoiled, but it was too late. When his father leaned back in his seat, Max saw the vaccine gun in his open hand. The vial was spent. Panic seized him. He was prepared for physical pain, even death, but not this. 'What have you done?'

His father nodded at Stein, who stuck a syringe into his arm.

'All I've done,' his father said, 'is inject you with a permanent version of the NiL drug containing Delphine Chevalier's facial imprint. Then Stein gave you a sedative. When you wake your confusion will pass and your priorities will be clear. You will be consumed with love for Delphine Chevalier and think nothing of Isabella Bacci. It'll be easier for you to make the right decisions. It's for your own good, Max.'

'No, it's not,' he said. 'It's for your good. Like everything always has been.' Max tried to struggle but his arms were too heavy. He had to stay awake.

'Ssh, Max,' his father said. You'll feel better when you wake.'

'Look,' Stein said, pointing to the door of Isabella's apartment block.

Fighting torpor, Max turned his head. Isabella stepped out of the apartment block and walked briskly to her car, three spaces from the limousine. Max wanted to hammer on the window and shout, but he knew his father would immediately have her killed. His heart was beating so hard in his chest that he thought it would burst. He could hardly breathe. He stared through the tinted glass, straining to see her face, committing every feature to memory, knowing that when he woke her beautiful eyes would no longer move him. It was then, watching her climb into her car and drive off, that he realized he loved her.

But it was too late. However hard he fought to stay awake, his consciousness slipped away. He was back in the waters off Hawaii, and again his body was betraying him. He would sleep soon and when he woke he would forget his love for Isabella and love only the woman his father had chosen. Then Helmut would use his love for Delphine Chevalier to control him. As he lost consciousness his father said, 'Sleep, my son.'

Max tried to scream, but no sound came from his mouth. He was under water, drowning. There was no redemption. No second chance. His father had won.

*

VALHALLA

WHEN ISABELLA STEPPED OFF THE PLANE IN NORWAY AND SAW THE sign, "Welcome to Bergen -- The Gateway to the Fjords', she guessed the secret venue for Phoebe's wedding. A member of SAS Airlines fast-tracked her through Customs and Passport Control, then took her to the VIP lounge to meet up with the other bridesmaids.

At first it was awkward to see Gisele, Kathryn and Phoebe's sister Claire. They wanted to express their shock and sympathy at her father's murder, which made her feel her loss more acutely. After a few minutes, however, the conversation turned to the secret venue, and it was clear they had reached the same conclusion as she. Despite Isabella's exhaustion, the prospect of visiting Odin's isolated crystal palace excited her.

'It makes sense for it to be Valhalla,' Gisele said, leaning back in the soft leather divan. 'Odin's a client of the Kappels and Phoebe is his favourite model. Also, once the wedding's over and the official photographs are sold to the press, he'll get so much free publicity.'

Kathryn reached into her Louis Vuitton cabin bag and fished out a lipstick. 'Why would Odin want any more publicity? I thought the whole point of building Valhalla in such a remote place was to get away from it all.'

Gisele brushed back her dark hair and laughed. 'Anyone can tell you're old money, Kathryn. If you were a tramp like me, who needs the media to sell her movies, you'd know that publicity is like oxygen to Odin. The best way to get the press to crawl all over you is to build a mad, beautiful palace in the middle of nowhere and shout, "Leave me alone." I bet you that after this wedding's over he turns the place into an exclusive hotel. When the official photos are released, Odin will be even more famous than he is now simply for hosting the world's glitziest, weirdest wedding.'

'My sister's wedding's weird, is it?' said Claire Davenport quietly. 'I didn't mean it like that,' Gisele said.'But everyone knew exactly whatshe had meant and, for an instant, Isabella was tempted to tell them of her suspicions.

'It's okay,' said Claire. 'It is weird. Even our mother thinks so. That's why she's not coming. She says it's because she hates flying but it's really because she doesn't approve.'

'Ladies, I'm sorry I'm late, but I've been checking on the Lear jet. It's now waiting to take us on the penultimate leg of our journey.'

Joachim Kappel seemed excited and nervous as he welcomed them to Norway. With him was a quiet man with grey-streaked black hair tied into a ponytail and an eyepatch. Isabella recognized him from Phoebe's engagement party at Schloss Kappel. She was surprised that Joachim and not Max had been selected to escort them. Max had told her once that Joachim was brilliant but weak, and hung on their father's every word. His bow-tie, thin pale face and round designer glasses didn't contradict Max's evaluation. He carried a reinforced insulated aluminium case under his right arm, and when the porters came to transport their bags to the private plane, he clutched it protectively to his chest.

The flight north lasted about ninety minutes before the jet made its descent on to an isolated airstrip, a lone black stripe in the snow-covered landscape of fields and mountains.

'Are we over the Arctic Circle?' asked Claire, as they stepped down from the cabin and hurried across the runway to the terminal building.

'No, we're just south of it,' Joachim said, still clutching his case. 'We're in the lower third of Norway, near the west coast, just above Trondheim. Norway's surprisingly long and thin. If you stuck a pin in Oslo in the south and rotated the country a hundred and eighty degrees its northern tip would reach Rome.' He pointed to the distant mountains, which looked metallic white against the clear blue sky. 'The Arctic Circle starts two or three hundred miles north of here, near the city of Bodo.'

Joachim ushered them into the warmth of the small wooden building. Inside, a fire was burning in a grate and six piles of furs were laid out on trestle tables. 'Apparently this part of Norway gets five or six hours of daylight in December and January. If you went up to Hammerfest in the far north it would be dark by now, and it wouldn't get light again for a month or two.' He gestured to the furs. 'While the men transfer your luggage to the sleighs you should put those on. You've probably guessed where we're going, so I can tell you that Odin designed them. They're reindeer, which I understand is the most insulating pelt.'