The Discrete Charm of Charlie Monk

by David Ambrose

  “There was something else West said,” Susan’s voice trembled slightly as she spoke, “something I hate him for. Hate him because it’s true. But he was right when he said there was a part of me, despite all my objections, that was just a little bit excited by all this—as a scientist.”

  “Well, you are a scientist, so why shouldn’t that be true?”

  “But thinking and doing are different things. Nobody in their right mind judges people on what they think. It’s what we do about it that matters. And I’m collaborating with the people who murdered my husband.”

  “You’re saving your son’s life.”

  “Yours, too. And I’d do it again to save either of you. But what I mean is…”

  She paused again, trying to find the words for something she seemed only partially to understand.

  “… what I mean is, that’s not my only reason. Not anymore. I’ve also become involved in this research. Intellectually. I’m excited by it.”

  She looked at him, her eyes searching his for help. “Is that wrong? Is that how Mengele felt when he was experimenting on those children in the death camps?”

  Amery answered her sharply, almost surprised by his own anger. “Stop that. There’s no comparison, and you know it.”

  “But you can understand what I mean, can’t you, Daddy?”

  He tightened his hands gently over hers. “You’re doing what you have to. For the time being you mustn’t try to think any further than that. Later, when we’re through all this, we’ll talk about the rest.”

  And talk they would, at length. If he had understood correctly what she was trying to say, she was coming around to seeing things in a way that would make his life much easier and less painful. He would never be able to tell her the whole truth: There were too many years of lies and unspeakable secrets. He would never be able to tell her that even though he didn’t order her husband’s death, he was a part of the shadowy establishment that did. He would never be able to tell her that the plan to kidnap her son and force her into collaborating with her husband’s killers had been his plan; or that the dreadful moment when she thought that he, Amery, had been killed because of her reckless disobedience had been his idea. He would never be able to tell her because she would never be able to forgive him, even though the alternative, proposed by people more powerful and uncompromising than himself, had been to have her killed before she did them the kind of damage that she threatened to. He had saved her life, but it had been a cruel kind of mercy, one for which he expected no thanks. All he hoped for was that she be spared and allowed to build a life for herself and Christopher that was not too far from the one they had enjoyed before. And that would be possible only if she showed some sign of willingness to view events in terms less purely black and white than she had formerly done.

  If Amery was not mistaken, the first signs of such a willingness had been apparent in the words she had just spoken. For the first time in many weeks, he found himself facing the future with more than simply fear.

  “Do you think she knew the place was miked?”

  “It would be a fair assumption—certainly, one that I’d make in her place.”

  “All right, let’s suppose she knew. How much of what she’s saying can we believe?”

  All eyes in the room turned on Amery Hyde. He didn’t know why they imagined he knew more than the rest of them, and yet he understood why they asked. He was her father; he was supposed to know how her mind worked, to see at once when she was telling the truth and when she wasn’t. He cleared his throat, and immediately cursed himself silently for the mistake: It was a sign of uncertainty, an admission that he was far from sure of what he was saying.

  “I believe,” he began, “that she was telling the truth. After all, what motive would she have for lying? She wants her life back, and her son’s, and she’ll make whatever compromise she has to in order to accomplish that.”

  He left it there. Always better with these people to say less rather than too much. It was rare that Amery Hyde felt himself intimidated, but in the company of this group the feeling was inescapable. There were five of them, ranging in age from thirty-something to early seventies. Their appearances differed equally widely. One looked like a lawyer; another like a university professor in crumpled tweeds and with unruly red hair; a third, the one in his seventies, had the mandarin demeanor of a diplomat and acted loosely as chairman of the proceedings. The fourth man was in his mid- to late forties and struck Amery as a civil servant whose task, though not in any way to lead the discussion, was to sum up its concensus.

  The fifth member, the only woman, was a mystery to Amery Hyde. She could have been a philosopher, he suspected from the detached precision of her questions; but with her broad, rosy-cheeked face and strangely hovering smile, she resembled the kind of scout-mistress you might encounter on a mountain hike with a couple of equally robust friends.

  Amery didn’t know anything about them individually, only that they were unelected and answerable to nobody, and therefore their power was infinite. They were the people who thought the unthinkable, then decided what to do about it. Their counterparts existed in all societies, always had and always would, though no society would ever openly acknowledge them.

  “And yours.”

  It was the woman who had spoken. Amery looked at her, taken by surprise after a long silence so unexpectedly broken.

  “Your life,” she said, smiling in her strange, almost orientally inscrutable way. “Your life, too.”

  “Yes, of course. That’s part of it from her point of view. My life, too.”

  The woman turned to the lawyer type on her left, then to the mandarin diplomat on her right. Whatever passed unspoken between them seemed to satisfy the three of them. The other two made their agreement felt by remaining silent.

  “Very well,” said the diplomat, “let’s proceed for the time being on that basis. We will rely on you, Mr. Hyde, to alert us to any change in the situation that you might become aware of. I’m sure you’ll agree that’s the best course open to all of us for the time being.”

  The words were polite, almost anodyne. There was nothing in the manner of their delivery to imply a threat. But, as Amery knew, people with real power never made threats.

  They didn’t need to.

  Chapter 46

  THERE WERE TWO guards in the lab in addition to Charlie and Dr. Flemyng. They sat in separate corners, each holding one of the small black objects that would render Charlie instantly unconscious in response to the slightest pressure. Dr. Flemyng also had one, Charlie knew, but she was too preoccupied with the equipment in front of her to use it fast enough in an emergency. So the guards sat there like youths in some video game arcade, their eyes glued to the image before them, waiting to jab the button when their cue came up.

  “Don’t give me that accusing stare, Charlie,” Dr. Flemyng said.

  Charlie blinked. He hadn’t been aware of looking at her in any particular way. He was just tamely going through the motions, doing what she said because he had no choice, turning this way, then that, holding his breath as a shiny metal tube— some kind of scanner, he supposed—moved over him and a helmetlike object closed over his head with an electronic buzz that made his skull tingle.

  “All right, Charlie,” she said after about five minutes, “that was just a test; we’ll get into the real thing in a moment. I’ve never done this before—in fact nobody has, so I’ve no idea if it’ll work or not.”

  “Shouldn’t you get yourself a backup lab rat in case you kill this one off by mistake?”

  He was gratified by the look of anger she flashed him in response to the cold cynicism in his voice.

  “Don’t worry, Charlie, I’m not going to kill you off—you’re too useful for that. Now just lie back while I attach these electrodes. They’re the same as before, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Hey, I’m past worrying. In fact I’m way past panic. Nothing you do from now on is going to worry me one bit.
”

  It was just bravado, of course. He could see in her face that she knew it was, but she made no comment. He almost liked her for that. Funny, he reflected, to think of almost liking someone he’d once loved, or thought he’d loved.

  She reached somewhere behind his head and produced the five-forked device that she’d used earlier to create the extraordinary virtual reality experiences he’d undergone. She slipped it on his head, made a few minor adjustments, then stepped back.

  “I’m not going to tell you what’s going to happen, Charlie, except that it’s going to be different from last time. I want your responses to be spontaneous and not conditioned by expectation. It’ll take a while and you may feel a little strange at first. All right, here goes. I’m pressing the switch… now.”

  Charlie watched her hand go to the control panel, and blackness enveloped him.

  It was impossible to know, when he opened his eyes, how long his unconsciousness had lasted. He looked around, and found himself back in the cell that had been his home since his attack on Latimer West. He supposed it was night because the lights were turned low, leaving just enough illumination for him to find his way to the toilet if he needed it. A switch glowed on the wall within easy reach. If he wanted to read or move around or find the remote control for the TV set they had installed for him, all he had to do was press it. But he didn’t move. He lay in the near-dark, gazing up at the ceiling camera that he knew observed his every move.

  Then he heard something. It sounded like the lock on his cell door, followed by the movement of a well-oiled steel hinge. He sat up. A shadowy figure approached the bunk where he lay. He recognized Susan Flemyng. She put a finger to her lips to silence him when he opened his mouth.

  “Get dressed, Charlie,” she whispered. “Quickly, we haven’t much time.”

  He didn’t move. “What’s going on?” he said. “What happened? Did somebody zap me again?”

  “Nobody zapped you, Charlie. The experiment never happened. If it had it would more than likely have fried your brains, and I wasn’t prepared to risk that. But I had to go through the motions for the benefit of those goons in the corner, and also because the whole place was bugged. Every word I said to you was being recorded.”

  “What about now? Are you saying it’s different here?”

  Once again his eyes went up to the camera in the ceiling. She followed his gaze, understanding his concern.

  “Don’t worry, nobody’s watching us now. We’re being recorded, but it’ll be too late by the time anybody looks at the tape.”

  “Too late for what? How do you know nobody’s watching? What’s this all about?”

  “Later, Charlie. And in case you get impatient, just remember that I’ve still got this.”

  He didn’t have to look at what she was holding; he already knew. He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not making any trouble. Just tell me what you want, I’m following orders.”

  “I want you to come with me and do exactly as I say.”

  “That’s what I’m doing.”

  She didn’t turn her back as he pulled on his clothes, so instead he turned his. When he was dressed, she nodded her head for him to precede her out the door. He stepped into the narrow holding area, then through to the room where three guards were on duty twenty-four hours a day. They were there now—all three fast asleep, two slumped in their chairs, a third draped facedown across a desk where he had obviously been reaching for a phone when he lost consciousness.

  “I stopped by for a cup of coffee,” she said, “and offered to make a fresh pot.”

  Three paper cups lay on the floor, the remains of their contents soaking into the plain gray carpet. Charlie turned a questioning gaze on Susan and saw her looking back at him with the hint of a smile on her lips. “Of course, I didn’t have time to drink any myself.”

  She pulled open a door on the far side. “Go ahead,” she said, pointing down the corridor. “I’ll follow you.”

  After a few yards she told him to stop and open the door on his right. He did so. Concrete steps led down into darkness. “There’s a light switch on your left,” she said. “Press it.”

  The stairwell flooded with light. Charlie started down and she followed. They entered a basement complex with heating ducts running along the low ceiling and thick bunches of electric cable on the walls. Susan had obviously reconnoitered the area well and issued crisp instructions to turn this way and that as they threaded their way through the maze of subterranean tunnels. Eventually she said, “Stop. That door in front of you leads to some more stairs that will take us to ground level. When we reach it we’ll more than likely run into one or more guards before we arrive at the place I want to get to. None of them have zappers because they’re only issued to people who have close contact with you. But they’re all armed and they’ll shoot if they have to. Be careful, do what you have to, but don’t kill anybody. They’re just ordinary men doing the job they’re paid for, and none of them knows the full story of what’s going on here. Do you understand me?”

  Charlie turned to look at her and nodded solemnly. “I understand,” he said, “but before we go any farther you’re going to have to answer one question or I’m not moving.”

  Her face hardened with annoyance, but after a moment she said, “All right, what do you want to know?”

  “I want to know why you’re doing this. What’s the game?”

  “It’s not a game, Charlie. I never wanted to be part of this project. I’ve been forced into it, and I don’t like that.”

  “So that’s why you’re helping me escape?”

  “That’s why I’m helping you escape. But there’s a condition.”

  “What condition?”

  “I want you to help me.”

  He frowned. “Help you how?”

  “My son and my father are being held hostage to guarantee my good behavior. I want you to free them.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Until today my son’s been kept on a ranch, too far away from here to do anything about it. My father’s had a little more freedom, but they’d have killed him if they had to.”

  “You said until today—your son.”

  “I’ve made a deal with them. I convinced them I would go on cooperating voluntarily if they let all three of us return to some semblance of normal life. They believed me enough to let my father fly up to the ranch and bring my son back here to visit. They’re in a hotel only fifteen minutes away. I spent an hour with them this afternoon. They’re not heavily guarded. You can get them out of there, Charlie. It’s their only chance.” She fell silent, searching his face for some response. “That’s it. Will you help me?”

  He looked at her steadily for a while, then said, “It doesn’t look to me as though I have a whole lot of choice, not if I want to get out of here. Okay, let’s go.”

  She didn’t respond right away. Something in her eyes said she wasn’t satisfied with his answer and was wondering whether to press for something better, but in the end she let it pass. “All right,” she said, “go ahead, through that door.”

  They went through the door facing them, up another flight of steps, and reached a set of double doors with horizontal push-bars. “Careful,” she said, “we could walk right into a security patrol.”

  Charlie looked over his shoulder and pointed to a switch on the wall behind her. “Put that light out,” he said. She did so, then he pushed open one of the doors. Susan winced at the sound it made, but Charlie slipped through quickly and motioned her to follow him.

  They found themselves standing in the angle of a concrete path bordering an L-shaped featureless brick wall. On the other side of the path was a hedge of chest-high shrubs. The night was dark with a high cloud covering, and although the grounds were well lit, no direct light fell where they were standing.

  “This way,” she whispered, pointing to the right. “And remember, there are foot patrols as well as mobile.”

  “Don’t worry,” he sa
id, “I’ve been trained for this.”

  “I know what you’ve been trained for, Charlie. That’s why I said go easy on these men.”

  “Just stay close.”

  “Oh, I will.”

  The light grew stronger as they approached the corner. Charlie waved a hand for her to get down below the level of the shrubs. They stayed like that as Charlie listened for sounds of movement; then he maneuvered himself this way and that to get as clear a view as he could of their surroundings.

  A door banged somewhere close by. Susan gasped. Charlie again held up his hand for her to remain still. They watched as, a few yards away, a guard appeared, leaned against the wall, and lit a cigarette. He inhaled gratefully a couple of times, then strolled off away from them.

  “Which way do we go from here?” Charlie whispered.

  Susan pointed to a building about fifty yards away on the far side of an open stretch of grass. “See that glass door? We have to go in there, then down to the parking lot. I’ve got a car ready.”

  Charlie’s glance swept across the area, which was overlooked by a farther building with a wall made almost entirely of tinted glass. Lights were on in many of the offices and rooms, though he could see no movement in any of them.

  “Come on,” he said, slipping his hand under her elbow, “keep your eyes down as though we’re talking. Don’t look as if you’re afraid of being seen.”

  They strode briskly over the grass, miming a conversation as they went. No one called out or questioned them. They reached the glass doors, Charlie pushed them open, and she led the way past the elevator and to the stairs. They went down one flight leading to a fire door. Charlie pushed it open, and they found themselves in the underground parking lot.