The Genesis Flaw

by L. A. Larkin

  Serena saw the door at the back of the auditorium. Behind this was the ladder leading up to the projector. There appeared to be no one around but a cleaner. Spy-eyes scanned the area, one already having zoomed in on her static figure at the doorway. She walked forwards, carefully balancing the tray, and placed the water on a table near the podium. Partway through a sentence, the holographic image of Bukowski evaporated, the test over.

  Then she heard the click of heels as someone mounted the podium. This was her chance; the spy-eyes moved to focus on the person. The door at the back of the auditorium was not being watched. Serena picked up her tray and casually walked towards the door at the back. The microphone squealed as a voice called out, ‘Testing, one, two, three’.

  Serena’s step faltered. She knew that woman’s loud, demanding voice and unmistakable scent. It was Gloria Philladitis, her archrival from the Rooney Agency. Eyes cast down, Serena took another step towards the back of the auditorium, moving out of Gloria’s line of vision.

  ‘No, too tinny. Try again,’ Gloria said, clearing her throat into the microphone. She gave a little cough.

  ‘Oh, excuse me, can you get me a glass of water?’ Gloria called to Serena. The spy-eyes turned onto Serena. She had no choice but to place the tray on a nearby seat and pour her some water. Taking a deep breath, she walked up to the podium, blinking nervously behind her glasses. In her Armani tweed suit and high-heeled brown boots, Gloria stared at the window of the multimedia booth across the auditorium, issuing instructions with the microphone. She took the glass from Serena, giving her only a cursory glance.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. The lights on the podium were blindingly bright and she squinted at Serena. ‘Hold on, don’t I know you?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Serena replied in her best American accent and turned around quickly.

  ‘No, wait a minute,’ said Gloria, stepping off the podium and out of the spotlight.

  She pulled the glasses off Serena’s face and her red-lipsticked mouth dropped open with surprise.

  ‘Serena Swift. What the hell are you doing here?’

  Serena’s first instinct was to run, but where? She would get no further than the corridor before she was caught. From the corner of her eye, she could see a spy-eye focused on them. She looked at Gloria’s hard-bitten face, her gash of red lipstick and narrowed dark eyes. How could she persuade this woman not to call security?

  ‘Please, Gloria, let me explain.’

  ‘Oh, this I’ve got to hear. Don’t tell me; you’ve decided to pursue a waitressing career and it’s an amazing coincidence that you just happen to be here,’ she said, folding her arms across her chest. ‘Turn the lights up,’ she bellowed at the multimedia booth.

  As the light increased, Gloria started to laugh in disbelief.

  ‘What are you up to now, you silly cow? Trying to sabotage the launch? Sore that you got fired?’ Gloria sneered, hanging John’s reading glasses from her fingers like a hunter’s trophy.

  ‘Gloria, I know we haven’t got on in the past but I really need your help now.’

  ‘Me help you? A thieving liar?’

  Gloria raised her arm to call for assistance. Serena pulled it down.

  ‘Gene-Asis’ products are making us ill, very ill. They’ll kill billions of people. Gene-Asis knows it but they’re still launching Supercrop Ultra.’

  Serena’s supervisor popped her head in the door. When she saw Serena holding Gloria’s arm, she raced over.

  ‘Is there a problem, ma’am?’ she asked Gloria.

  ‘Yes. I need Security, now,’ Gloria replied, yanking her arm from Serena’s grip. ‘Tell them Serena Swift is a security risk and needs to be escorted from the building immediately.’

  ‘Oh my. I don’t know how this happened. We always thoroughly vet our …’

  ‘Now!’ cut in Gloria and the supervisor shot out of the auditorium.

  ‘Gloria, food trials were done by Gene-Asis in Zimbabwe. They proved eating their GM foods causes deadly viruses and horrific deformities.’

  ‘What is this bullshit, Serena? Their products are tested and safe.’

  ‘No they’re not. I’ve seen the scientist’s research report with my own eyes. I have footage of the suffering caused. Please, Gloria, just forget you don’t like me. I’m begging you to look at the evidence and make up your own mind. Tell Security you don’t need them. Give me a chance.’

  Gloria blinked, seemingly startled by Serena’s conviction and not sure how to react.

  ‘We’re being lied to. Gene-Asis manipulates scientists, politicians, the media. Gloria, they’ve killed to keep their dirty secrets,’ she said, moving closer.

  Stepping back, Gloria yelled at her, ‘Stay away from me, you whacko! You’re out of your mind.’

  Two uniformed security guards charged down the aisle, another man walking slowly behind them. Serena grabbed Gloria’s hands. Terrified, Gloria tried to pull them free.

  Serena pleaded, her voice low and brittle, ‘Gloria, look at this memory key. It shows you I’m telling the truth.’

  ‘Get off me,’ she screamed, as Serena pressed the ring into her palm, just as the two guards forced Serena to the ground, winding her.

  ‘Don’t move,’ shouted one of the guards, pointing a gun at her. The other forced one of her arms behind her back. She squealed in pain, her arm almost pulled from its socket. The guards paused. What were they waiting for?

  A big man with one arm in a sling stepped into the light. The arm was encased in what appeared to be a layer of plastic, which fitted like a long glove. Beneath this transparent covering, parts of the arm were red raw. His eyebrows and patches of his hair had been singed away.

  Serena stared up at her worst nightmare: Ben Hartstone.

  ‘No,’ she mouthed in disbelief.

  ‘Hello, Serena. I heard you were in town.’ That same raspy, deep voice, seething with subdued fury.

  ‘Please help me,’ she sobbed. ‘He’s going to kill me.’

  She tried to struggle free.

  ‘Don’t move or I’ll shoot,’ shouted one guard.

  ‘Aren’t you pleased to see me? And I thought we were old friends,’ said Ben, moving over to the seat where she’d left the tray. ‘I wonder what we’ll find here?’he continued, lifting the handheld with his good hand.

  ‘Here, take this,’ he ordered the older guard, ‘Bring it with us.’ He looked at the other guard still pointing his gun at Serena.

  ‘Stand her up, and follow me. I don’t want a word of this getting out, do you understand? This never happened. She was never here.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And that includes you too, Ms Philladitis. Mr Bukowski’s orders.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Call the police. Please. The police,’ she begged as she was pulled to her feet.

  ‘No cops. Mr Bukowski doesn’t want any disruption to today’s event.’

  ‘Gloria help me!’ Serena screamed, bending her body towards her, struggling hopelessly.

  ‘Perhaps she should be taken to the police? After all, she’s committed a crime,’ said Gloria.

  ‘Ms Philladitis, you have my word this woman won’t come to any harm. The police will be contacted when the show is over.’

  ‘No, he tried to kill me before,’ Serena yelled, feeling a sharp stab in her arm. Everything went black as she lapsed into unconsciousness.

  As Serena’s limp body was carried into a private code-operated elevator, Gloria strode over to the auditorium’s multimedia booth. She went in. The spy-eye outside the booth recorded her movements. But there was no spy-eye inside. The technician stared at her for a moment.

  ‘What was that all about?’ he asked, his tongue piercing clicking on his teeth.

  ‘None of your damn business. Just get on with the audio checks. We’re running behind schedule.’

  As the technician did the checks, Gloria opened the palm of her hand and stared at the most unusual memory key she’d ever seen. A ring
.

  ‘I’ve changed my mind,’ she said. ‘Take five. I need to be alone.’

  Chapter 71

  Serena opened her eyes. The polished walnut gleamed like a top-of-the-range coffin. Where the hell was she? Her head hung forward and her arm sockets burned. She stared down at pairs of feet and recognised the security guards’ black boots. The men were holding her up. Moving one leg, she tried to place her weight on it.

  ‘She’s coming round,’ said one.

  ‘I can’t breathe,’ she said, trying to stand straight. The private elevator opened on the floor below the auditorium and she was bundled into a circular room with no windows and no spy-eyes; just a circular desk and eight chairs. It was like being in a giant metallic cylinder designed so that no known spying device could capture the conversations within its perimeter. It was used for Gene-Asis’ most secret meetings. Serena was dropped onto a chair.

  ‘Leave us, and take the mobile to Mr Bukowski on the top floor. He’ll want InfoSec to take a look,’ Ben growled and the guards left, the metallic doors shutting behind them.

  Ben leaned over her, his lack of eyebrows making his face look like a mask. Behind his swollen eyelids, his green eyes glared at her with pure hatred. She couldn’t bear to see it and looked away.

  He grabbed her face and forced her to look at him.

  ‘Thought me dead, didn’t you? Huh? Well, you blew me out the ute. Clear of the flames. So here I am to tell the tale.’ He circled her as he spoke. ‘My arm got the worst of it. Look at your handiwork!’ he demanded, pointing at the plastic coating. Then he sniggered. ‘Ever seen burns heal this quick? Huh? Gene-Asis are good for some things. The bacteria in here are healing my arm fast.’

  Ben took a gun out from his holster and placed it so the cold metal touched her forehead. Her body shook uncontrollably. She clenched her eyes shut and waited for the shot.

  ‘Oh no. Not like that. You put me though hell in that burning ute, you little bitch, and you’re going to know what that kinda pain is like.’

  If she died now, how would she be remembered? She wanted her family to know the truth. She wanted them to know she loved them. She felt the barrel of the gun leave her forehead and dared to open her eyes.

  Transferring the gun to his left hand, Ben took a cigarette lighter out of his pocket and flicked it on. A small white flame sizzled.

  ‘No, a bullet’s too easy. It’ll be just you and me in a quiet part of New Jersey, with a can of petrol and some matches. I’m going to cook me some pork.’

  He sniffed her face.

  ‘Mmmm, smells good.’

  Paralysed with fear, Serena watched as Ben tauntingly waved the flame closer to her face. She felt its searing heat, blinking at its nearness. She backed into the chair, desperate to get her face away.

  ‘How do you like that idea?’

  Ben was so close she could see his singed eyelashes.

  ‘Don’t move now,’ he said, placing the gun at her temple. Serena sobbed as she felt the heat of the flame so near her cheeks. She could smell the lighter fuel. She tried to turn her head away, her mouth dry as paper. She heard a click, as the gun’s safety catch was removed. The flame was near her neck. Something was burning and she knew it was herself. The repugnant smell hit her nostrils as she heard a crackle like burning twigs. She screamed as her hair caught fire. She screamed as if hell itself had opened. She screamed helplessly, knowing that not a soul could hear her.

  ‘Ben!’ Bukowski’s voice cut through her cries. ‘Have your fun and games later. I need to talk to her. Turn off the lighter.’

  Ben hesitated, hovering over Serena. Then, like a demon obeying Satan, he shut off the lighter and watched as the flames in her hair burned themselves out. He slunk away from her, slamming the lighter onto the tabletop in protest. He never once stopped pointing the gun at her.

  ‘Patience, patience,’ Bukowski directed.

  He stood before Serena in a bespoke suit and crisply pressed shirt, not a hair out of place. Shaking his cuff back, he checked his watch: 11.55. Queues of guests had arrived at the main entrance, but Bukowski maintained an unnerving calm.

  ‘Before I hand you over to my friend here, tell me where John Flynn is. I know he’s in New York. I’ve looked at your Tbyte, so I know what you were planning. Only Flynn’s got the skill to do this.’

  ‘Go to hell!’

  He leaned forward like a cobra attacking, his loss of control so sudden she jumped in her seat. Taking hold of both her shoulders, he shoved her with a thump into the back of the chair.

  ‘I don’t have time for this. Answer me or I’ll let our flame thrower here continue his games with your face. I can promise you a quick death if you cooperate.’

  Serena nodded and he released her shoulders.

  ‘He’s in Australia. He programmed the Tbyte before I left.’

  He slapped her across the mouth, her head jerking sideways.

  ‘Liar. I know you both flew in last night. What are you calling yourself these days? Oh yes,’ he said, reading her name badge, ‘Sarah.’ He folded his arms. ‘Now, tell me, Sarah, what’s your back-up plan? What is John up to and where is he?’

  ‘There is no other plan. That’s it. I was going to crawl into the roof and trick the projector into running my documentary.’

  He frowned, clearly weighing up her story.

  ‘A word,’ he said to Ben and they both left, the doors locking behind them.

  She could hear and see nothing through the solid doors. She had to get out of there, but there was only one entrance to the room and inside it were no devices to communicate with the outside world.

  Serena looked at the ceiling and spied the smoke detector. She saw the cigarette lighter and a desperate plan formed in her terrified mind. A printed instruction manual was wedged behind the DVD player. Taking it and the lighter, Serena stepped on a chair and then stood on the table. She eyed the door, willing Bukowski and Ben to stay outside a moment longer.

  Serena ran her thumb over the lighter’s wheel, trying to draw the flame, unable to get it to work. Finally, a tongue of flame leaped up and she set fire to the manual, raising it above her head, holding it directly beneath the smoke detector. The yellow fingers of flame were weak and she feared they would go out. They burned nearer her hand as the manual disintegrated. ‘Come on! Go off,’ she begged, the flames licking painfully at her fingers. She couldn’t bear to hold on much longer.

  The noise almost pierced her eardrums. The smoke detector screeched repeatedly every few seconds. Serena dropped the charred remains as Ben hurled himself through the doors. He dived at her, but she jumped from the table, landing on the ground and, toppling forwards, hit her head. Ben yelped in pain as he landed on the table, scraping his barely healed arm.

  With a strength she didn’t know she possessed, she forced herself to stand and run from the room, the intermittent screech from the smoke detector now accompanied by the ringing of the fire alarm on every floor. Serena glanced at the private elevator and saw it descending to the ground floor. Bukowski must be inside.

  Every electronic door in the building instantly opened as people began to stream out.

  ‘Fire escape. This way,’ a man ordered.

  She raced into the throng of evacuating people as Ben pointed a gun at her back. In the confusion, no one noticed him, because all eyes were focused on the fire exit. As Serena was surrounded by office workers, Ben couldn’t fire. He cursed as she dived into the stairwell.

  ‘Oh my God, what if it’s a terrorist attack?’ a woman yelled behind her.

  Serena wove her way past the people already on the stairs. Was Ben following her or would he take the private elevator?

  Inside the cavernous concrete stairwell, sound was amplified. People’s shoes clicked on the stairs and voices echoed. Serena peered down to the floors below and saw the whole building evacuating. She moved as fast as she could, banging into people, using her shoulders to pass them. The crowd was thickening and her progress slowing a
s more people joined the march downwards. ‘Hey, stop shoving!’ a man shouted at Serena.

  She was panting now, her lungs burning. She checked the sign. She was only on the 112th floor. She had to find a faster way out of there.

  ‘Can you believe this?’ she heard a man say.

  ‘Someone’s head’s going to roll.’

  Serena elbowed her way between them.

  ‘How rude.’

  A bottleneck was forming in front of her as a woman in her fifties was being helped down the stairs by two men. Each step seemed painful for her. People could only pass them in single file. She looked behind her again. Was Ben up there? Trapped, she shuffled forward with the rest of the crowd.

  ‘We’re going to die, I know it.’

  ‘It’s probably just an electrical fault.’

  ‘Just push past her,’ someone yelled.

  Serena saw people streaming into the stairwell from level 111. She battled her way against the tide and left the stairwell, arriving in a nearly deserted corridor.

  ‘Hey, you’re going the wrong way!’ someone called after her.

  Serena was alone. She jabbed at the elevator button, praying it wasn’t programmed to switch off if the fire alarms rang. She watched it rise from the fifty-seventh floor and the doors opened. A recorded voice instructed her not to take the elevator in the event of fire. She ignored its repetitive whine and pressed the button for ground level. The elevator shot down in a few seconds and opened to absolute chaos.

  A stumbling mass of people pushed and shoved their way through the foyer to the main entrance. The solid wall of glass that separated the entrance foyer from the elevators had been raised some seven metres above the floor, like a giant guillotine blade hovering over its next victim. The eight security barriers, previously part of this wall, were now flung wide open. People streamed out of the building.

  Serena hurled herself into the tightly packed throng, barely able to carve a path for herself. She squeezed into a gap near the wall and let the tide of bodies take her. A hand grabbed her shoulder, wrenching her back so fast she almost fell. She felt something hard on her spine.