“All under your instruction, though, Mrs Baxter. I was only following orders.”
Rosalind’s eyes narrowed. “As you well know, that’s no defence. I’ll think about it.”
A hard expression passed across Grolby’s face. “Two hundred thousand shares, Mrs Baxter. I want your agreement now, or you’re on your own.”
Rosalind stared at him for a few seconds. “Okay Mr Grolby, you have a deal.”
Chapter 74
Monday 17th January 2033
Antimone pushed the door open. The autonomous taxi was stopped at the side of the entrance road, two hundred metres short of the Ilithyia building. That was as far as the credit on the phone would take her. The wheelchair was on the rear seat, and there was no way she could get it out by herself. She had suffered the same problem in reverse when she had left Floyd’s hideout. Luckily, a passing resident who was out walking his dog had been kind enough to help her by collapsing the chair and stowing it in the back of the car.
She felt bad about leaving Jason and Floyd at the house. It was hard for her to trust them. For so long she had believed that Floyd was the rapist, but now it seemed he was totally innocent. It was weird to think that he was Paul’s grandfather. As for Jason, she struggled to put her feelings into context. Had he really been unaware he was raping her? He was obviously racked with guilt and on balance, she believed his story. It was all too conceivable that Max Perrin was behind everything, and all because she had accidentally tripped him during athletics training. She shivered at the thought of him undressing her and pawing at her naked body.
As she imagined the sequence of events and Max’s calculated act of revenge, a feeling of rage enveloped her. But for a fluke, what he had done would have resulted in her death. Her breathing came hard and fast as she envisioned herself plunging a knife into his chest. The only good thing to come out of all this was Paul. At the thought of her son, her sense of anger morphed into one of concern. That, after all, was the main reason she was here.
Rosalind Baxter had offered to reunite them and allow her parents to visit whenever they wanted. Antimone still didn’t trust the Ilithyia staff, but once news of her survival was out, they would have no option but to honour their side of the deal. She felt a moral obligation to assist in any way she could to develop a cure. As Mrs Baxter had put it, surely a little discomfort was worth it to save the lives of countless women who would otherwise die in childbirth.
On the journey to Ilithyia, Antimone had tried to call her parents, but paying for the taxi had used up every last penny of credit on the phone. Floyd and Jason were sure to contact the police when they discovered she was missing, so even if the people at Ilithyia wanted to keep her presence a secret, that would no longer be possible. She had considered waiting for the following morning before going to Ilithyia, but the way Jason and Floyd had been talking, it seemed they were more likely to go to the police. There were clearly long-standing issues between Rosalind and both of the men. By coming alone, she hoped to take the tension out of the situation.
The problem, for now, was how to get the wheelchair from the boot. The headlights of a car approached from the opposite direction. Antimone waved to catch the driver’s attention. The car slowed but then carried on past without stopping. For a moment she contemplated lowering herself to the ground and lying in the road. Cars would have to stop then, but what if they didn’t? It would be ironic to be the first woman to survive childbirth in a generation and then die because either a human or computer driver didn’t see her.
The glare of headlights approaching from behind lit up her vehicle. Once again she waved her arms. The car drew up alongside, and the window wound down.
“Is there a problem? Are you alright?” the middle-aged male driver asked.
“My wheelchair’s in the back, and I can’t reach it. Could you do me a favour and help me get it out?”
The window closed, and the car continued forwards. Antimone was about to swear in frustration when she realised it had pulled in ahead, its hazard lights flashing. The door opened. A short man wearing a dark-coloured winter coat and blue jeans walked back towards her.
“I assume you’re going to Ilithyia,” the man said. “Why didn’t you go as far as the entrance?”
Antimone felt the man’s eyes studying her as she held up the mobile. “Out of credit. I’m supposed to meet my Dad inside, but there’s no money left on the phone to call him.”
“Hmm,” the man said. He opened the rear door and retrieved the wheelchair.
“Just pull the two halves apart,” Antimone said. The man did as instructed and the chair locked into shape. He wheeled it beside the door. “Do you need help getting into it?” he asked.
“No, I can manage, thanks. Could you just hold it still while I move myself across?”
Antimone manoeuvred herself from the seat into the wheelchair.
“It’s a bit cold to be out without a coat,” the man said.
“I’ll be alright,” Antimone replied, shivering as the freezing night air cut through the oversized blue jumper. “It’s not far.” She noticed the man staring at the muddy stains on the hospital gown and pulled the hem down. “Thanks for your help.” She propelled the wheelchair forwards without waiting for a reply. Behind her, she heard the man shutting the door of the taxi. A moment later the man’s car overtook her and then indicated right to turn into one of the car parks.
Antimone accelerated the chair, grateful for the exercise. No other vehicles passed her. She glanced behind and noticed that the taxi had departed. She received strange looks from a man and a woman walking in the opposite direction but reached the main entrance without further event. A curtain of warm air engulfed her as she negotiated her way through the rotating door.
The brightly lit area was relatively quiet. She approached the reception desk and waited for the receptionist to complete her conversation with a telephone caller.
“How can I help you?” the woman asked, peering down at Antimone from her raised seat with a bright smile.
“My name’s Antimone Lessing. I’m a patient here. Could you call my doctors and let them know I’m back?”
“Lessing, you say. How do you spell that?”
Antimone spelled out her surname and waited while the woman tapped the information into her computer.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not showing any patient by that name unless you died two weeks ago.” The woman gave a nervous laugh then stared intently at the screen. “Oh, that’s strange. Did you say your first name was Antimone?”
Antimone nodded. “That’s me.”
“They must have made an error entering the data. I do have a patient here with your name, but it says here that she died on the third of January and well … um … you’re obviously not dead.”
“No, I’m very much alive. Is there somebody you could call?”
“It also says your son … oh, never mind. That must be another mistake. It has Dr Perrin down as your main physician. I’ll just see if he’s available.” The woman tapped the computer screen.
A second or two later she spoke again. “Yes, Dr Perrin. I’ve got an Antimone Lessing here for you. I think there’s a mistake on the system. It says she’s deceased but …”
“… Yes, she’s here with me right now.”
“… Okay, I’ll ask her to wait.”
The receptionist’s smile had faded to be replaced by a slight frown. “Somebody will be here to fetch you in a moment if you’d just like to wait by the chairs over there.”
Antimone felt the woman’s eyes boring into her back as she wheeled herself to the waiting area.
Chapter 75
Monday 17th January 2033
Rosalind held the injection gun to the third patient’s neck and pressed the trigger. A brief hiss signalled the end of the woman’s life as the lethal drugs travelled along her veins towards the muscles of her heart and lungs where they interrupted the signals from her brain. Within seconds her breathing had stopped, followe
d a short while later by her heartbeat.
“There are two more in the single rooms,” Rosalind said. “I want you to take these three up to the incinerator while I deal with the other two.”
“I don’t know how to work it,” Grolby said.
“Never mind. I’ll be done by the time you’ve got them up there. I’ll show you what to do, or I’ll do it myself.”
Rosalind positioned the sheet over the woman’s face. “You need to hurry. The police could be here at any minute.” She bustled through the swing doors and headed down the corridor. Five minutes earlier she had instructed all the staff in the basement level to return to the main part of the hospital, so she knew she had the place to herself. She had also been to the control room and turned off all the cameras.
She held her identity card up to the electronic lock and entered the small room. A heavily pregnant woman lay unconscious on the bed. Without hesitation, Rosalind transferred the instrument to the woman’s neck and squeezed the trigger. She loosened the sheet and covered the patient’s head without checking for a pulse. She hurried on to the adjacent room. There she repeated the process.
Releasing the brakes on the hospital trolley, she pushed it to the door with its lifeless cargo. She swiped her card against the reader, pulled the door open and using one foot to keep it ajar, dragged the trolley towards her. Her hand caught the door frame, and she cursed, holding it to her mouth. She glanced at her watch. This was taking too long.
Returning to the task, she backed into the corridor and swung the trolley around. She propelled it to the lift at a half-run. She jabbed at the call button and waited impatiently for the doors to slide apart. When they did, Grolby emerged pushing an empty trolley.
“How many have you done?” she snapped.
“Two, so far. I left them in the incinerator room like you told me. I assume you didn’t want me to leave the trolleys in there.”
“That’s fine. Get the last one from the emergency ward then come back and bring up the one from room 202. I’ll make a start on the ones that are already there.”
Rosalind entered the elevator. She faced the scanner and selected the ground floor. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple. She flicked it off with her forefinger then wiped it on the bed-sheet. The lift surged upwards, announcing its arrival with a ting. The doors parted. She hurried past several locked rooms. At this time of day, the facility was largely deserted except for the handful of staff that cared for the residential patients. She passed nobody else before reaching a door that bore a flame icon. She held her identity card to the reader, depressed the handle and dragged the trolley in behind her. A wave of heat hit her as she reversed into the room. A large yellow-coloured, metal cabinet filled most of the floor space. Emerging from the top of the box was a circular pipe that led up into the ceiling. On the front were an open sliding door and a control panel containing a number of differently coloured lights and buttons. A small glass window occupied one side wall. Two human-sized bundles lay alongside the right side of the cabinet, each draped with a white sheet.
Without pausing, Rosalind shoved the trolley into the enclosure. The wheels rattled as they crossed the tracks for the runners onto a metal grid. The dead woman’s left arm slipped from beneath the sheet, hanging loosely down the side. Ducking her head to prevent it from hitting the low ceiling, Rosalind followed and applied the brakes. She heaved the body onto the grid. Stepping over an outstretched leg, she released the brake and pushed the trolley out ahead of her.
She turned her attention to the two sheet-wrapped bodies. She grabbed a foot in each hand and strained backwards. The corpse was halfway into the combustion chamber when the door to the room opened. With a sigh of relief, she recognised the broad shoulders of Anders Grolby backing in.
“Give me a hand here, Anders,” she said.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Take the arms. Help me get her in here.”
Grolby parked the trolley beside the wall then strode across and seized the corpse’s arms. The work was much easier with two people and soon they had deposited the second body alongside the first.
“How many can you put in here?” Grolby asked.
“It should deal with three easily enough. Let’s do the one on your trolley, and then you can take it back down.”
“Wouldn’t this have been a simpler way to dispose of some of our problems, Mrs Baxter?”
“What makes you think it hasn’t? Anyway, it’s not always feasible. That’s one of the reasons I need your special talents. That reminds me. You need to delete all record of our entry into this room from the servers”
Grolby shrugged. “Whatever you say.”
He picked up the corpse and lifted it over his shoulder. He stooped at the entrance and heaved it on top of the other two. “I’ll go and get the last one.”
Rosalind grasped the lever on the sliding door and hauled it towards her. The metal panel slid sideways and sealed with a loud clank. The green button on the control panel illuminated. She depressed it for a moment then released it. The green light went out, and a red one came on in its place. A roaring, whooshing sound filled the room. The wall glowed orange where the light from the flames penetrated the small window. The temperature in the room rose by several degrees, and Rosalind wiped her forearm across her forehead. Four minutes after she had pressed the button, the burners fell silent. A rhythmic ticking sound emanated from the combustion chamber as the super-heated metal slowly cooled.
Three minutes later, the outside door opened once more. Grolby backed in pulling a trolley containing the final dead body.
“Well done, Anders,” Rosalind said. “We need to wait for the red light to go out, and then we can load these last two. It needs a while until it’s cool enough to open.”
Several minutes passed as they waited in silence. Finally, the red lamp turned off. Rosalind took hold of the lever and shoved the door back. Despite the cooling-off period, a wave of heat flooded into the room.
“It’s like working in hell,” Grolby said.
“Yeah, better get used to it. Let’s get these two in there. Then we can relax a bit.”
Grolby put his arms beneath the body on the trolley and slung it over his shoulder. He took a couple of paces and heaved it into the metal box.
“I can manage this one,” he said, bending down to pick up the last bundle. His foot straddled the tracks for the runners as he pitched it forwards.
“It needs to go further back,” Rosalind said, glancing inside.
“You’re the boss,” Grolby replied entering the chamber and grabbing the corpse by the arms. He hauled backwards until the dead woman was up against the rear wall.
“Is this far enough?”
“Absolutely.”
Grolby’s eyes widened in shock as the door panel slid along its runners. He took a pace forwards, but he was too slow. The sturdy mechanism slammed shut trapping him inside.
The sound of fists banging on the thick metal walls of the combustion chamber sounded muted from the outside.
“I’m sorry, Anders, but you’ve become part of the problem,” Rosalind said as she pressed the green button. “And this is the perfect solution.”
At the same moment as she released the button, the main door to the room swung open.
Chapter 76
Monday 17th January 2033
Nigel Perrin surveyed the small room. He opened his mouth to speak but the roar of the furnace drowned him out. He beckoned to Rosalind Baxter and moved into the corridor. His voice sounded loud in his own ears in the relative silence.
“I wondered if you’d be in here,” he said. “I thought Anders was going to help you with that.”
“Oh, he did, but Mr Grolby doesn’t work here anymore. He’s been fired.”
Perrin picked up on Rosalind’s slight smirk. “Fired? What do you mean? Oh, Christ, you didn’t …”
“He made the mistake of overvaluing his own worth. He tried to blackmail me. If there’s one
thing I won’t tolerate in my employees, it’s disloyalty. Let’s just say that he’s probably feeling the heat a bit at the moment. Anyway, I’m sure you didn’t come looking for me just to have a chat. What’s going on?”
“It’s the girl,” Perrin said. “She’s waiting in reception.”
Rosalind frowned. “The Lessing girl? She’s here now?”
“That’s what the receptionist told me. Apparently, she asked for me.”
“What about Floyd and the boy?”
“No sign of them yet. I couldn’t get hold of Grolby, but I asked one of his men to escort her to one of the private rooms. She’s refusing to go with him until she’s seen her son. I ordered the security man to stay with her. What do you want to do?”
Rosalind closed her eyes for a second and inhaled deeply. She reopened them, her steely gaze boring into Perrin. “We don’t need her anymore, do we?”
“No. I think we’ve got all the data we need. You’re not going to–”
“Leave this to me, Nigel. I want you to get an injection gun.”
“You’re going to put her down like those other women?”
“If you’d let me finish,” Rosalind snapped. “I want you to load it with sedative, something quick acting but with a short-term effect. I want to find out from her what Floyd and the boy are up to. I take it you did as I asked and kept test results relating to the girl on your own computer and off the network.”
Perrin nodded.
“Good. I want you to bring your machine back here.”
“You’re going to destroy it?”
“Yes. If the police do come, we’re going to need all the bargaining chips we can get. The more information is in our heads and the less there is written down, the stronger our position will be.”
“But if the tests aren’t successful, it could set us back months.”
“I have every faith in you, Nigel. You’re going away for a week. When you get back, we’ll conduct the trials, and everything will work as expected. After that, you can retire and do what you want for the rest of your life.”
Decimation: The Girl Who Survived Page 29