The Price of Time

by Tim Tigner

60

  No Joy

  LISA LEFT SEVEN STAR ISLAND with hope and a plan. Forget politics. Forget the United States. Get lost overseas and start a new life. A long life. Someplace with warm weather, blue water, and sandy beaches.

  She’d check back in with Aria on occasion. Every six months or so—for as long as Aria was alive. If Aria died, Lisa would forget the other Immortals altogether. She liked Pierce and David just fine, but she wouldn’t risk her life to keep in contact with them.

  Back home in San Clemente, she gathered everything she couldn’t bring herself to leave behind. Given her deep financial resources and complete lack of family, that amounted to little more than a few photos and awards. Happy days with her mom and dad. College and grad-school shots, yearbooks and awards. All professionally assembled in thick scrapbooks with well-worn edges.

  She had a similar catalog from her business career. A collection of newspaper articles and magazine features. Her Top 30 Under 30 Women in Business Award, and a few others. The Eos company photo had been the real prize, although now it made her cry. Both due to the casualty count, and because it was now considered contraband. Like everything else, it would tie her new identity to her birth identity.

  The Immortals were supposed to burn all their memorabilia once their replacement process was complete. She hadn’t yet phased out her birth identity, so technically it wouldn’t be a violation until Lisa Perera had a death certificate, but she knew she’d never destroy her mementoes. She doubted that any of her peers actually did. She put hers in a small suitcase.

  Her only other suitcase was topped with toiletries, two swimsuits, and a change of clothes. Underneath, she filled it with $100 bills. A million dollars’ worth. With that cash, she could live for years off the grid.

  The trip to the airport went by in a blur, and before she knew it, Lisa was looking back toward the private aviation terminal of John Wayne Airport from the stairs to her G650. She wondered when she’d set foot on American soil again.

  “Just you today, Ms. Perera?” the familiar flight attendant asked.

  “Just me, Brady. I’m taking a break from everything this time, my staff included.” Lisa had not told anyone her plans. Safer that way. Aria knew her general intention, but that was it. Pierce would get a letter explaining her decision by snail mail. She felt she owed him that, given their mutual plans. One of them would let David know. He’d understand. The good doctor was a go-with-the-flow kind of guy.

  She settled into her usual seat, then got an idea. “Brady, I’d like a glass of Champagne. The 2004 Krug please.”

  “Coming right up.”

  She resolved then and there to make the coming months a celebration. Treat this time like an adventure rather than a retreat. If she thought about it, the only thing she was walking away from was familiarity. That wasn’t such a big deal, if you had the right frame of mind. If you concentrated on what you were gaining, rather than what you were losing. Immigrants did it all the time.

  Captain Carter came over the intercom. She couldn’t recall if Carter was his first name or last, but she liked him. His voice and his look. He reminded her of a movie star. “It’s fifteen hours to Sydney. It’ll be early morning when we arrive, so you’ll want to get as much sleep as you can.”

  Lisa knew that takeoffs out of John Wayne were steep due to noise abatement ordinances, so she drained her Champagne as Carter came back on to announce that they’d reached the head of the queue.

  Once they cleared the coastline and began a more traditional climb, she asked Brady for another glass, then hit the intercom. “Captain, I’ve had a change of plans. I need to head for Bali instead of Sydney.”

  “Bali, Indonesia?”

  “That’s the one.”

  No quips or sighs or complaints about procedure. Captain Carter snapped straight into make-it-happen mode. “We’ll need to refuel. Probably Tokyo or Taipei. I’ll check our options and get back to you.”

  “No need. Do whatever makes sense and update the display. I’m going to take your advice regarding sleep.” From her chair, she could see a monitor with the flight map, time and distance covered and remaining, speed and altitude.

  “Very well. Good night, Ms. Perera.”

  Lisa had never been to Bali, so nobody would think to look for her there. Of course she hadn’t been lots of places. She’d selected the Indonesian island because it was populated with millions of gentle people and on the other side of the planet. Easy to get lost on it or one of the thousands of surrounding islands.

  She closed her eyes and pictured her toes dangling off the end of a long dock into water so clear and blue you felt like you were scuba diving even from the surface. She’d find one of those hotels where the suites were individual huts out over the water. She’d swim herself into the best shape of her life and sunbathe until her skin was such a deep bronze that even Aria wouldn’t recognize her without a second, studied glance.

  Lisa was almost asleep when a stinging sensation made her wince. “Ouch!”

  Brady was instantly at her side. “Can I help you, Ms. Perera?”

  Her hand shot to her backside, the source of the pain. “Something bit me!”

  As Brady turned to inspect her chair, Lisa felt her lungs turn to lead. She couldn’t move them. She wanted to scream but could not produce noise. In desperation she jumped up and flung her chest against the back of a neighboring chair, forcing her lungs to expel carbon dioxide, then suck in fresh breath as they recoiled.

  It helped.

  She began repeating the procedure, pressing herself against the back of the chair, working her own lungs like a bellows.

  It wasn’t enough.

  The exertion used up more oxygen than she was taking in. Her head began spinning, and she soon lost the strength to continue.

  She was aware of Brady screaming as she slid to the floor, and the leaden feeling moving beyond her chest. She felt him start mouth-to-mouth. But it wasn’t enough. She pictured her toes in that warm turquoise water. Dangling. Dangling.

  Only three Immortals left.

  61

  Talk is Cheap

  THEY GRILLED TORY on everything he knew about his clients. They walked through his computer files, bank accounts, and bookmarks. They had him call Felix a dozen times, without success. Finally, Chase opened the call list on Tory’s generic phone. “Who is speed dial 3?”

  “That’s Aria.”

  “And 5?”

  “David.”

  Coincidentally, they were the ones that looked like Skylar and Chase’s roommate. Or perhaps not coincidentally, Tory realized, given how his captors had gotten involved.

  “Will Aria and David know if Felix has been killed?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Call and find out. Explain that he’s not answering. Then try to set up a meeting. Same con you were planning to use on Felix. Which of the two is more gullible?”

  “They’re both razor sharp,” Tory said with sincerity. “But my relationship with him isn’t so hot, thanks to you. Better to call her.”

  “Watch me for cues,” Chase admonished, setting the phone before Tory.

  Aria answered on the first ring. “Hello.”

  “Aria, it’s Tory. I’ve been trying to reach Felix—”

  “Felix is dead.” Her voice was strained and clipped.

  “Oh, no. Oh, dear. I was afraid of that. I think I know who did it.”

  “Who?” Her voice rang of desperation tinged with hope.

  “Not over the phone. Trust me, there’s a reason. We should meet.”

  Aria didn’t reply.

  “Aria, are you there?”

  “I’m not meeting with you or anyone else. Just tell me.”

  Tory gave Chase a see what I mean look.

  Chase shook his head.

  “Not over the phone.”

  “Email me then,” Aria suggested.

  Chase nodded emphatically.

  “That might be acceptable. What’s your address?”


  “Use SevenStar@HughesNet.com.”

  Chase held out a hand and waggled it side-to-side.

  “All right. If I can figure out a safe way to do that, I will. Otherwise, we’ll have to get together. Your terms and the location of your choosing.”

  When she didn’t reply, Chase made a hang-up motion.

  “Meanwhile, stay safe and let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

  Chase reached over and disconnected the call.

  Tory looked at him with his one working eye. “You’re planning to run an email trace.”

  “You try that with them before?”

  “I never had an email before,” Tory said, feeling inadequate for the first time in years. If only he hadn’t been so busy. “Felix was my single point of contact, and he worked exclusively through a Darknet messaging system. The trace might work.”

  “I’m not familiar with HughesNet,” Skylar said.

  Tory turned her way. “It’s a satellite-based internet provider. They specialize in locations not serviced by cell towers.”

  “I’m guessing you used them a lot at Triple Canopy,” Chase said. “Doing all that Third World security work.”

  Tory didn’t comment while processing the revelation that they knew more than his name.

  Chase grabbed the phone again. “Time to call David and see if he’ll meet. Same story.”

  Tory nodded. “Okay. Expect a hostile call.”

  It was Chase’s turn not to comment. He punched the fifth button and set the phone back down. It rang and rang.

  “No way to leave a message?”

  “Nope. No message capability on these lines. It’s a security precaution.”

  After twenty rings, Chase disconnected. “Has David always answered in the past?”

  “Technically, yes. But I’ve only called him twice.”

  “Your best guess?”

  The irony of his honest answer put the bitter taste of bile in Tory’s mouth. “It looks like your problem is taking care of itself. You needn’t have bothered with me.”

  Chase dwelled on that in silence while sipping coffee.

  Tory seized the opportunity to recite his favorite refrain. “I really need that hospital. You know everything I know, and now you have a way to locate Aria. Assuming she stays alive.”

  Chase set his mug down a bit more firmly than was necessary. “There’s one partner you’ve been hiding all day. It’s time to talk about him now.”

  “Partner? What partner?” Tory was genuinely surprised, and he let it show.

  “The funeral home owner.”

  Tory would have rolled his eyes were it not for the blistering pain. “He’s just a guy I bribed.”

  “Yeah, right. Hey, would you mind leaving the back door open so I can cremate someone alive?”

  “Strange as it seems on the surface, that’s about right. Except that I don’t actually mention a body.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Chase sounded angry and sincere, but Tory knew that both were easily faked.

  “Virginia wasn’t the only location where I used that disposal mechanism. It’s just the only one I got the replacements to walk into. The other times, they were already drugged. I actually made special arrangements with a total of five funeral homes.”

  Skylar stomped on that turd. “You got five separate morticians to give you midnight access to their facilities?”

  Tory studied his victim turned captor. “Why are you surprised? Funeral home owners spend their days draining the bank accounts of grieving widows. Why wouldn’t they leap at the chance for an easy hundred grand? All they have to do is forget to set the alarm, leave the back door open, and switch on a few lights. I’m in and out like a ghost. The only trace that I’ve come and gone is the cash under their mattresses, so to speak.”

  Chase shook his head while Tory talked. “I might believe you if I hadn’t seen the metal detector. You can’t convince me that funeral homes need those. Therefore, I don’t believe your BS story. And because of that, I have to question everything you’ve told me.”

  “I don’t buy it either,” Skylar said. “People aren’t like that. Ordinary people aren’t that evil, or that willing to take risks. Most would call the police.”

  Tory knew they’d never buy the actual metal detector explanation. Even to him, the brother-in-law story sounded pretty thin. Still, he refused to hit an impasse. He had no choice in the matter. Not if he wanted to live. Fortunately, there remained one way to convince them. “It’s easy enough to prove.”

  “Nice try,” Chase said. “But we’re not going to let you out of our sight. And we’re not going with you to commit a felony.”

  Tory shrugged, provoking a wince. His hands were suffering big time from the limited circulation. “I can’t do it over the phone. If I’m not there with cash in hand, they’ll think it’s either a setup or a prank—” Tory stopped himself. He could get Murdoch from Williamsburg to vouch for him. Especially if he offered a referral fee. “Actually, there is a way.”

  Skylar and Chase waited while Tory thought it through. The money might be a problem. He’d literally shown Murdoch and the others the cash. “If I prove this, are we good?”

  His captors rose and walked to the other side of the room, where they whispered words Tory couldn’t hear.

  “By your own deduction, it’s an acid test,” Tory called. “Confirmation of my entire story. Proof you have everything I know. Everything you need.”

  They returned to the table. Chase studied Tory’s face before giving him the right answer. “We’ll need to copy your hard drive first, since the police will confiscate your computer.”

  62

  Hidden Jewel

  ARIA CAUGHT SIGHT of her shadow as she strode from the ocean onto the sand. She would never tire of having a thirty-year-old, never-been-pregnant figure. What a joy, to not worry about wrinkles or sags. To never fear the mirror. Forget the immortality, the halted aging alone was priceless.

  She spread her arms and studied her shadow. With Allison out of the picture, she was undoubtedly the sexiest fifty-six-year-old alive.

  The warm air and gentle breeze had her dry by the time she stepped onto her bedroom’s tiled floor. Detecting her presence, the sensors in the wall reported in over a concealed speaker. A feature of her new security system. “Good afternoon, Aria. You missed a call.”

  She checked her iPhone. No missed calls.

  She checked her burner phone. Two missed calls. One from Pierce, one from David. As she considered which to call back first, the phone decided for her. It began to buzz. “Hello.”

  “Aria, it’s David. I’m calling to see if you’re all right?” There was something in his voice. Two calls from David. One from Pierce. None from Lisa.

  “I’m fine. What happened? Is it Lisa?”

  “She died on her plane.”

  Aria flopped onto the bed. “Oh, my goodness. Was there a crash? What happened?”

  “The authorities aren’t saying, but they’re calling it a homicide.”

  “Not an accident?”

  “Not this time.”

  There was something in David’s voice. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “She was on her way to Bali. Her bags were packed with cash and mementos.”

  Aria suddenly felt very alone. “She was running away?”

  “Apparently.”

  Aria needed to set up her own Google alerts. At this rate, she could soon be the only Immortal left alive—and not know it. “Wait a minute. How did the police know it was her, and not her replacement senator veteran person?”

  “She hadn’t yet fully switched over. She was flying as herself. As Tory will explain when your time comes, there’s a transition. A tapering into one identity and out of the other.”

  When my time comes. That suddenly sounded overly optimistic. “I’m supposed to be getting mine this week. I’ve been trying not to think about it. Not to think about anything related to—our group.”

/>   “Me too.”

  The soft sound of David’s soulful voice sent a tear down her cheek. These were good people. Good friends. Why would someone want to kill them?

  Aria lay back on her bed. Suddenly she didn’t want to let David off the phone. His voice was like a lifeline.

  “How are you protecting yourself?”

  “I’ve taken a sabbatical from the lab, moved to a hotel under a pseudonym, and started driving a rental car. I’m treating it as a vacation, but I have to admit that it’s not particularly relaxing.”

  “I know the feeling. I know I’m safe here, unless the killer has planned a missile strike. There’s nobody coming and going.”

  “Good plan.”

  “Actually, Lisa was just here a couple of days back. She showed up unannounced in a helicopter. My guards lit her up like a Christmas tree with those red dots they have on their rifles.”

  “What did she want?”

  “Advice.”

  David was tactful enough not to pry. “I’m glad you’re okay. Just don’t leave your island.”

  What was she doing? Lying there whimpering like a kicked dog. That wasn’t her. Aria Eiffel was a smart, beautiful, resourceful fighter. She didn’t demur. She rallied the troops, set the agenda, and called the shots.

  She sat up, then stood up as steel filled her spine. “I’m going to phone Tory now. Take care, David.”

  Aria changed out of her swimsuit and into a fluffy white robe. Time to call my contract killer.

  Tory didn’t answer.

  She couldn’t leave a message because this was one of their special phones. She threw the cell onto the bed and turned to the bathroom. She wanted to hit the shower. It would help clear her mind and give her something to do. But first she walked to the entrance and placed her palm on the glass pad, activating the lock-down feature that sealed off her suite. She had to make that a habit now, engaging it whenever she’d be in her room for more than a few minutes.

  Clicks and swooshes ensued, giving her partial peace of mind.

  She dropped the robe on the floor and walked naked to the shower. It was the walk-in kind that could both bring a deluge from above and spray you from three sides. Kind of a standing massage. Aria stepped in and let the warm water pound away.