For the first time since the police had arrived, Perrin spoke. “It was an accident. We never meant to release it. If that woman hadn’t–”
“Shut up, Nigel,” Rosalind snapped. “They’ve got nothing.”
Kat ploughed on. “So, once that happened, hundreds of thousands of women died in childbirth, and the world desperately began looking for a cure. But you had a head start, didn’t you? As the creators, you knew its exact genetic makeup and had already developed anti-virals for the laboratory-generated version. It was only a short step from there to developing the drug that propelled Ilithyia Biotechnology to the forefront of medical science and turned you both into multi-millionaires.”
Perrin fiddled with the collar of his shirt. “We were only trying to rectify our–”
“Pure supposition,” Rosalind said, talking over him.
“But that’s where it started to go wrong. The virus mutated, and the treatment became ineffective. Now you were in the same boat as all the other medical companies desperately trying to come up with something that would actually work. It was the flu part of the virus that mutated. Ironically that’s what Eileen Floyd tried to warn you about in the first place. Fast forward sixteen years or so. The number of women who have died because of your actions is now in the millions, and your son gets Antimone Lessing pregnant while he’s under the influence of some nasty drug that also originated from this facility. She doesn’t know she’s pregnant until it’s too late for an abortion. By sheer coincidence, she ends up giving birth here and somehow survives. I understand her child survived too despite you writing a death certificate claiming that he died from a biological infection.”
Rosalind folded her arms. “I had nothing to do with any death certificate. You won’t find my name on it.”
“So now you have the clue you need. You fake Antimone’s death, making it look as if she died like all the other women. You study her in your basement laboratory, out of sight of any medical ethics committees. The only problem is that your son likes this girl and discovers you’re holding her prisoner. He breaks her out, but then you grab her again. Luckily for us, he told me the whole thing. How did I do? Is that about right?”
“Very clever,” Rosalind said. “A very good story, but with no proof whatsoever. Have you got any witnesses? Where’s the evidence?”
“Oh I’m sure if we dig deep enough, we’ll find something. So where are you keeping them?”
“Who?”
“You know exactly who I mean, Mrs Baxter: Jason, Daniel Floyd, Antimone Lessing and her son, Paul.”
“I have no idea.”
“Well, that’s strange because we have several eyewitnesses who saw you talking to the three adults no more than half an hour ago. What about you, Dr Perrin? You’re heavily implicated in all this. What have you got to say for yourself?”
Perrin swallowed loudly. “Um … I don’t know.” He stared hard at the floor.
“The thing is, if one of you were to talk to me, we’d look very favourably on that. I can’t guarantee you wouldn’t serve any time, but your sentence would probably be much more lenient.”
Perrin raised his head sharply and returned Kat’s gaze. He turned briefly to Rosalind and back to Kat again. He licked his lips. “Um … if we had a cure, would that help to reduce the sentence too?”
“Yes, I’m sure a judge would show leniency for something like that,” Kat said.
“Okay, I’ll tell you everything. Sorry, Rosalind, but I can’t live with this any longer.”
“Don’t say anything, Nigel,” Rosalind growled. “They don’t have any evidence.”
“No, I’ve made my mind up.”
Rosalind moved so quickly that it caught everybody else in the room by surprise. She lunged forwards and snatched up the pen poking from the front pocket of Perrin’s jacket. She drew it back and jabbed the point into his eye. Perrin screamed and held both hands to the protruding cylinder, blood pouring through his fingers. But she wasn’t finished yet. She formed her hand into a fist and slammed it into his face, driving the pen deep into his brain.
Nigel Perrin collapsed to the floor, his body convulsing. His son knelt over him. “Dad! Dad!” he yelled.
The policemen surged forwards, but Rosalind had already returned to her position by the control box.
“If anybody moves, I push this,” she screamed. A silence fell over the room, broken only by Max Perrin’s sobs. “I mean it. There are three people inside this incinerator. I’m the only one you’re going to be making a deal with now.”
One of the men took a step forward.
“I warned you,” Rosalind said.
Then she pressed the green button.
Chapter 86
Monday 17th January 2033
All eyes in the room focused on Rosalind. Even Max Perrin looked up from the prostrate body of his father.
“If I take my finger off this button, the furnace will start up. Once that happens, there’s no stopping it until it completes its cycle.”
“What do you want, Mrs Baxter?” Kat asked.
“Let me see. My arm’s already starting to get a bit tired by the way. I want an amnesty for all previous crimes. My lawyers will have to check it over to make sure there are no loopholes. In return, I will complete the development of a cure for the Orestes virus, but I must be free to run my company how I see fit. I’m happy to make any deal conditional on the release of a treatment. Oh and the people inside this furnace get to live.”
“You’re responsible for more deaths than any other person in living memory, and you just want us to sweep it all under the carpet? You’re out of your mind.”
“Well I don’t expect you to have the authority to make such a deal,” Rosalind said, a thin smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “I’m guessing it’ll have to go as high as the Prime Minister. Andrew Jacobs is a friend – well maybe not a friend – but certainly an acquaintance of mine. I suggest you call him right away. I’m not sure how much longer my arm will hold up.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Kat said.
“You do that. Incidentally, I want all your colleagues to place their radios and mobile phones on the ground. I can’t have you hatching some plot behind my back. I also want your phone on speaker so that I can hear what’s being said. And don’t mention where we are. Just so you know, if they try to cut off the power, this facility has a backup generator. If the lights so much as flicker, I’ll release this button. Just tell them that I’ll produce a cure if they agree to my terms. Otherwise, I’ll destroy all the research and the girl too.”
“You heard her.” Kat turned to the six uniformed men. “Put your phones and radios on the floor.”
“When you’ve done that, sit with your back to the wall over there,” Rosalind said. She glanced down at Max, still crouched over his dead father. “You,” she said, pointing at the nearest policeman. “I assume you’re carrying handcuffs or something like that.”
The man nodded.
“Right, I want you to restrain the boy. I don’t trust him not to do something stupid.”
Max stared up at her as he struggled to comprehend the meaning of her words. When they finally sank in, a look of hatred filled his face. “You murdering bitch,” he screamed. He tried to stand up but slipped in his father’s blood.
The policeman lunged forwards, enveloping Max in a bear hug.
“Help him,” Kat snapped.
Two other men joined the struggle. Within seconds they had cuffed Max’s hands behind his back. Still struggling against his captors, Max raised his head from the floor. Blood streaked one cheek. “I’ll kill you for this,” he yelled.
“Restrain his feet too,” Rosalind said, “then put him against the wall with the rest of you.”
The three men lifted the writhing boy and carried him to join their colleagues.
“I’ll kill you,” Max sobbed, mucus and tears mingling with the smears of blood.
Chapter 87
Monday 17th January 2
033
The beep from the electronic lock ratcheted up the tension that had enveloped the room. It had been ninety minutes since Kat had made the first of several phone calls. Standing apart from the seated policemen were two men wearing business suits but no tie, deep in discussion with each other. They were Rosalind’s lawyers and had arrived half an hour earlier. They didn’t seem happy about the situation and at that exact point in time were discussing the downside if Rosalind failed to deliver on her side of the bargain.
The door opened slowly. Two dark-suited men stood framed in the doorway. They held identical poses, right arm folded across the chest, right hand hidden inside the black jacket. Their eyes swept the room for any sign of imminent danger. When their inspection was complete, they stepped into the room leaving enough of a gap between them for Andrew Jacobs to walk through.
The Prime Minister glanced at the seated police officers. His eyes widened in shock as they focused on the dead body of Nigel Perrin. With a conscious effort, he directed his attention to Rosalind Baxter.
“About time Andrew,” she said. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to come.”
“I’m a busy man, Mrs Baxter.”
“So that’s how it’s going to be, is it? Well, Prime Minister, we seem to have a situation here. My terms are simple: an amnesty for any past crimes and freedom to run my company as I see fit. In return, I will provide you with a treatment for the Orestes virus.”
“Yes, Mrs Baxter, my people told me about your proposal. I understand that you were responsible for creating the virus in the first place.”
“It has been suggested that might be the case, but you’re not going to get me to admit to anything unless you sign the amnesty. Just so you know, my arm is getting extremely tired.”
“And you have three people trapped inside the incinerator chamber. I’m assuming that if you release that button, it turns on.”
“That’s right, Andrew, and if that happens, all our research and the only person to survive childbirth in fifteen years go up in flames.”
“Your son’s in there too, I hear.”
A look of anger flitted across Rosalind’s face. “He’s not my son. I adopted him. Then he … well, never mind. Are you going to sign the documents, or are you going to consign those three people and thousands of women to a needless and painful death?”
“We don’t negotiate with terrorists, Mrs Baxter.”
“Is that a no then? I’ll be sure to mention that you declined my offer when I go to trial. I’m sure that will play well with the electorate. Even your good looks won’t get you out of that one.”
Andrew Jacobs focused his gaze on Perrin’s dead body. He sighed deeply and slowly raised his eyes to meet Rosalind’s belligerent stare. He hesitated for a moment as he considered his options. Finally, he came to a decision. “On this occasion, I might be prepared to make an exception. However, any deal we make will be conditional on you delivering a working treatment.”
“I’ve already offered that, Prime Minister.”
“You will be placed under house arrest until such time as we have independent proof of the efficacy of any drugs your company produces. After that point, we can’t allow you to remain as the CEO. You’ll sell the company, and you’ll donate ninety percent of the proceeds to childcare charities. That’s my final offer.”
“You want me to give away ninety percent of the company I’ve devoted the last twenty years of my life to?”
“I would’ve thought that was far preferable to spending the rest of your life in jail, Mrs Baxter, and I can assure you that prison wouldn’t be a pleasant experience once the details of your exploits got out.”
“And there would be a media ban on any news relating to Ilithyia’s involvement in the creation of the Orestes virus?” Rosalind’s gaze centred on the seated form of Max Perrin.
“Yes, although we don’t have jurisdiction over the international press.”
“If I agree, I think it would be in your interests to keep it out of the newsfeeds too. You and your party’s ratings would certainly suffer if this deal ever became public knowledge.”
“Yes, Mrs Baxter. Mutually assured destruction is the technical term, I believe.”
Rosalind frowned and stared at the floor for a couple of seconds. Then she raised her head. “Alright, Andrew, I accept your terms. Get them written up and pass them by my lawyers. I’d like you and your men to remain here until everything’s signed.”
“Don’t worry. I have no intention of leaving until this is resolved.”
“Oh, and by the way, my finger is getting really fatigued. I’m sure you can see the need for expediency.”
Chapter 88
Seven months later
Rosalind Baxter reached forwards and held the stem of the wine glass between her fingers. The ruby coloured liquid clung to the edges as she swirled the contents and inhaled the earthy aroma. She tilted the glass back and allowed the liquid to brush against her lips. Room temperature, just as it should be. She sipped a small amount and rolled it around the inside of her mouth. With a sigh of satisfaction, she returned the glass to the place mat.
Rosalind picked up the bottle and inspected the label: Chateau Margaux, Premier Grand Cru Classe, 1975. Not the finest vintage but pretty damned good all the same and at over five hundred pounds a bottle, certainly not cheap. Not that money was an issue. Her bank account balance hovered somewhere between nine and ten digits now that the sale of Ilithyia had finally gone through. It wasn’t as much as she had once dreamed of, but it was more than enough to last the rest of her life in considerable comfort. Even after donating ninety percent of the proceeds to charity, the remaining ten percent amounted to over eight hundred million pounds. If she drank a bottle of this vintage every day, it would still take over several thousand years to exhaust the funds she had amassed.
She hadn’t seen Jason in months. He had collected his things accompanied by a social worker a couple of days after the incident in the incinerator room. She heard he was living with the Lessing family and that both he and Antimone were now attending a state school. Antimone’s mother was looking after the child while the teenagers were at school. If Rosalind was honest with herself, she missed the company of another human being in the house, but she felt no remorse for her actions towards her adopted son. He had brought everything on himself when he chose the disabled girl in preference to the woman who had given him everything over the last sixteen years.
She leant back in the armchair and allowed the strains of Beethoven’s violin concerto in D major to wash over her. Her enjoyment was disturbed by the banging of a door on the other side of the house. She rose to her feet and stared out through the darkness at the well-tended garden, faintly illuminated by the glow from the lights inside. A summer storm was due to build in strength that night, peaking at some point in the early hours of the morning. She closed the window and returned to her chair.
The door banged again. Rosalind gave a tut of exasperation. Another window must be open somewhere. She stood up once again and padded in her bare feet into the hall. The sound came from upstairs. Now that she thought about it, she remembered leaving the bedroom window ajar. She marched up the stairs and opened the door to check. Sure enough, the curtains were billowing in the stiff breeze. She strode across the room and pulled the latch shut without bothering to turn on the light.
Rosalind retraced her steps and sat once more. She grabbed the remote control and set the playback to the start of the second movement. The melancholy tone of the violins matched her mood exactly. She took a sip of the wine and closed her eyes, holding the glass in her hand. The notes seemed to resonate in her chest as they blended into one another. She swallowed another mouthful and started humming the melody.
“Hello, Mrs Baxter.”
Rosalind jerked forwards, sloshing the remaining quarter of the contents on her cream-coloured trousers. “Jesus, Max, what the hell are you doing here? I thought you’d be in prison or youth detentio
n.”
Max smirked. “You say that after everything you’ve done. You’re really quite something, aren’t you? They can’t prosecute me without the whole ugly story coming out, and that would jeopardise your little arrangement, wouldn’t it? Anyway, I thought we needed to have a little chat.”
Something cold ran down Rosalind’s spine. “I’m calling the police.” She placed the now empty glass on the mat and pushed off the chair.
“I don’t think so. Sit down.”
Rosalind found herself sitting down again. “What? I don’t–”
“That drug I took from my Dad’s office. I kept some. I thought it might come in useful again once I’d seen how effective it was.”
“But–”
“Yes, Mrs Baxter, while you were upstairs I poured some – rather a lot in fact – into your wine. Ironic, isn’t it, that you should fall victim to the same drug that you used to kidnap all those other women?”
Rosalind stared at the empty glass. Her head spun, and she experienced a strong sensation of watching herself from a distance. She tried to speak, but her mouth refused to work. A deepening panic built up inside. Try as she might, she was powerless to move. Whatever was coming next couldn’t be good.
“You murdered my father in front of me. Now it’s payback time.”
“I … I …”
“No. Don’t talk. I want you to listen. You rammed a pen into my father’s eye. And then you shoved it all the way into his brain. That wasn’t a very nice thing to do, was it?”
Rosalind lifted her eyes, trying to focus on his face.
Max reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen. “This is identical to the one you killed my father with.” He clicked the end three times in quick succession. “My father used to buy them in bulk, that’s how I know it’s the same.”
Decimation: The Girl Who Survived Page 32