Immortal Beauty (The Immortals)

by Thomas McDermott

  “God, you’re such a child!” She threw it back at him. “What are you going to do about the other two?” This time she was very serious. Marcus’ face became suddenly more austere. He was thinking again. Thinking of what he was going to do. If he approached them he could lose them altogether and if he waited he could lose them just as easily. He might as well toss a coin. There was no logic involved and he felt he may as well toss a coin in the air and let the Fates decide, but he had had enough of fate intervening in their lives.

  “I don’t know Claire, but I want you and Frankie to follow them. They are in very grave danger right now.”

  “Wait a minute!” She almost shouted. “There is no way I am going to play Mata Hare again for you. I told you I’m finished!” She wiped her lips with the soft cream napkin.

  “I want you to shadow them and make sure that no harm comes to them. That is all. I don’t want you to contact them or interfere with their activities. Until I know exactly what Celine is up to I don’t want to make a move. It would be premature and reckless.”

  “Oh for God’s sake Marcus did it ever occur to you that because you are never reckless that you lose at this game every time? It wouldn’t kill you to take a risk, no pun intended. At the very least it would be so unexpected you might actually achieve your goal. Celine would never in a million years expect you to do something rash. It would throw her off completely don’t you see? Are you really that stupid?” This time there was a new softness in her voice as if she suddenly felt very sorry for him. A breeze lifted up from the garden carrying the scent of the intoxicating flowers over them causing them both to purvey the magnificent view before them. Marcus was smiling now. It was the first time she had ever called him stupid in all these years.

  “You may have a point my dear. I never thought about it like that. Celine does know that I would never willingly break the truce and engage her in any kind of conflict. I’ve already stolen her secretary and the data on her hard drive. As soon as she realizes that something is amiss the element of surprise will be lost.” He looked at the pale beauty and couldn’t help but remember the first time they had met. Claire spoke up with conviction and actual interest for the first time in many years.

  “She doesn’t know that Ellen is missing yet and she may never learn the reason why. She may think that the poor girl was homesick and left without a goodbye or that she fell in love with some impossible French man, and she certainly won’t know about the files. It’s not like you erased them or anything.” She looked up into the branches above trying to spot the black bird.

  “She is clever. She’ll figure it out eventually.” Marcus sighed. He wished that Frankie was there but he had already sent him out to watch the young journalist. Celine had him laid out quite nicely at the Ritz and it would be very easy to monitor him without being seen. So far the young American showed no signs of anything remarkable. Maybe Celine was wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time she messed this up. “Claire I just want you and Magdalene to make sure that nothing happens to her. If my calculations are correct she will be coming home very soon.”

  “And if they’re not?” Claire looked at him boldly for the first time.

  “Then we may be too late already.” Marcus stood up and brushed his black linen suit and returned inside without so much as a nod in Claire’s direction. It would have been wasted on her anyway. She was not one for social etiquette. People found her very rude and disarming and that she couldn’t care less made her even more unlikable. In such a civilized culture she was practically a pariah. She finally got up from the table and felt the need to walk. She might as well check out the digs on Sasha White. She would stake out the place while Sasha was at work and then return at night to find out her routine. She had to admit that she liked this kind of work, skulking about in the background. It was a solitary endeavor and that was the kind she liked best. Besides she was curious about this Sasha. What if it really was her? Would they remember each other or would it al be too vague and too dreadful to remember all that had transpired so very long ago? She closed her eyes and summoned the bird. Magdalene glided effortlessly down to Claire and landed on her shoulder.

  “C’mon old girl. We’ve got more work to do.” The bird screamed loudly three times as if protesting the word “old”. Claire walked down through the labyrinth of trees until she followed the slope down to the Seine at the back of the park. She passed through the weathered gate that swung outward onto the Rue Passy and found herself back in the city which she detested. She walked along the river toward the tower. It would be a good walk, probably an hour or so before she got to the address she memorized. At least there were few people down by the river bank. Soon enough she would be surrounded by the mass of humanity and Magdalene would have to hover from above, but for now the graceful bird sat proudly on her shoulder and looked around cautiously as if she were used to danger.

  NIGHTMARE

  Taylor walked into his room at the Ritz. Everything was perfectly made up from the bed to the sitting room to the bathroom. This was truly luxury on an old world scale. It was truly nice to have invisible people behind the scenes taking care of every little detail. He had spent a somewhat productive day poking around Celgen and talking to almost everyone he met there. The trouble was nobody seemed too keen to talk to him. They answered most of his questions with “I don’t know” and hurried back to their duties. Sasha White had been the nicest of them all but she really didn’t seem to know too much about the new launch coming up. It was all very secretive. Maybe they were afraid to betray the company with such a huge campaign just around the corner. He couldn’t blame them and soon realized that any real information was going to have to come from Celine herself. He looked around to see where his laptop was. He was going to have to hit the web to do some research of his own and had the feeling that he was going to be up all night burning the midnight oil. That was alright with him and he looked around and the gold and white wallpaper and the ornate desk made of mahogany in an old empire style and was grateful once again for such digs. Normally he would be cramped in a bus or plane or the smallest corner of some lobby to work on a story when he was on the road. He had never had it this good and realized with a little smile that he most likely never would again and he should take full advantage of this little bone that life had thrown him. He still had one more day before the interview and that gave him plenty of time to bone up on his subject. Sasha promised to meet him for dinner following his interview with Celine. It seemed she had other plans for tonight and he was disappointed but knew that he would rather get all of this work out of the way so he could focus on the beautiful American girl he had the good fortune of running into. It would be much better if his mind wasn’t obsessing about the article. If only he could get rid of his thirst. He walked to the small refrigerator and found it filled with unmarked glass bottles of clear liquid. There was a note on one of the bottles.

  “Taylor, I took the liberty of sending round my favorite water. Enjoy! Celine D’Aumont”

  Thank God! He could not stop thinking about how clear and delicious that water was. It was so strange but it was all he wanted to drink since this afternoon and now here was a small supply of it just for him. He reached in and grabbed one of the bottles which was thoroughly chilled. He removed the top and took a long deep swig. It was delicious. He almost felt giddy and absolutely revitalized. It must be some sort of European mineral water full of all sorts of good things for the body. He took another drink and opened his computer. He was grateful for internet service in the room and shuddered at the thought of his awful French and negotiating his way around an internet café. He took out a pad of paper from his luggage and a few silver pens. He was about to order room service when he realized he wasn’t hungry. For now the water would suffice. He could always call later when he did get hungry. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast and normally he would be famished by now but he thought it was all because his body was screwed up from the insufferable jet lag which had him dehydrated
and dreaming of water all day. He sat down at the beautiful wooden dessk and began to get tow work. He needed any and all information concerning Celgen. He was in luck as there were thousands of articles on the web when he typed the company name. Celgen was actually an acronym for cellular genetics. The company prided itself on genetically manipulated cells in many of it’s beauty products. Enhanced collagen and superior peptides produced rapidly visible results in the fight against time. They were already one of the top competitors in the business. What could be more thrilling than that? Whatever they were planning to launch must be some huge breakthrough. There was no word about the new product. None of the sights had any information on the upcoming campaign. That was strange to him as normally a company sends word out months before to create the buzz that is so necessary in marketing and sales. It was free publicity. Why the big secret? Fear of competition? He couldn’t believe that the woman he had met earlier today was afraid of anything. This would be a good question for his interview. His analytical mind began to whirr. He started probing the more obscure sites for Celgen looking for any negative press. The light began to change and he turned on the gorgeous tiffany lamp on the desk and wondered if it were real. Finally after about two hours later when all of Paris was bathed in the gray darkness that make it’s evenings so very romantic he stumbled upon something very interesting.

  A few months earlier there was a protest outside the Celgen labs in Orleans, a city not too far south of Paris. It seems that some animal rights group was against some genetic testing that Celgen was doing on their property. They were specifically targeting something called Chimera and he read on completely absorbed in this new information. Chimera was the egg of some hybrid animal. Apparently scientists could manipulate the DNA of any animal and combine it with other animals on the cellular level. They were never allowed to grow beyond a certain stage of development which was usually only a week or two. Somewhere in China they had successfully combined human and pig embryonic cells and extracted the new DNA from cells for medical applications. It was all very creepy and something out of a science fiction story. Humans and pigs combined? Apparently the new DNA could fight off human disease and conditions that previously stumped the scientific community. Supposedly it was all in the very early stages of development and as of yet there were no global regulations for such new technology. Why was Celgen involved in Chimera research? He smiled and wrote this down as the next question he would ask Celine tomorrow. What hybrid could be relevant to looking younger? He didn’t know enough science to even begin to formulate an answer and he looked forward to hearing it from Celine herself at the interview. He wanted to talk to Sasha before his meeting if at all possible. He would make sure he got to the company fairly early before she got busy with her own work. She might have some answers for him and may even know something about the protest outside the labs in Orleans. Of course there were no names mentioned in the article and there was only a picture of the entrance to the facility. Apparently the activists were hauled away by security guards before a scandal broke out. It was only about an hour from Paris by train. It couldn’t hurt to look into it. He was jolted by the sound of a knock at his door. His heart mumped in his chest. He was so engrossed in his research that he had forgotten everything else.

  “Yes? Who is it?” His voice sounded funny to him.

  “It is room service with your dinner monsieur.” A man with a heavy accent spoke from behind the heavy door trimmed in gold paint.

  “I didn’t order any dinner. There must be some mistake.” If he wasn’t at the Ritz in Paris he would begin to think he was being conned. It was the oldest trick in the book.

  “Celine D’Aumont took the courtesy of ordering your meals while you are staying with us Mr. Hamilton. She has quite an extensive knowledge of the menu here and insisted on only the best for her guest. If you like I can send it away.” The man was beginning to sound irritated.

  “No that’s not necessary.” Taylor sighed and opened the door. He was assailed with the aroma of roast duck and some sweet smell he couldn’t recognize but it smelled amazing. There was a little man pushing an exquisite display of food on a cart with wheels. He pushed the cart in the door and looked at Taylor boldly sizing him up. For a moment Taylor thought the guy was coming on to him. It wouldn’t be the first time that other men found him attractive but it was irritating that a waiter at the Ritz would try to pull something like this. The man smiled and asked him where he would like the food. Taylor pointed to the dining area and reached in his pocket for a tip. He wasn’t sure about the rules of tipping in Paris but felt if he offered nothing it would be seen as extremely rude. The small man glanced around the room and his eyes came to a stop on the bottle of water on the desk which was mostly empty. He stared as if unable to take his eyes from the glass. He suddenly became aware that the guest was watching him intensely and his face resumed that famous French expression of supreme boredom.

  “Do you require anything else Monsieur Hamilton? Something more to drink?”

  “Oh no thank you.” Taylor just wanted to little strange man to leave him in peace and the smell of the food was making him more and more hungry. “Miss D’Aumont hooked me up with her mineral water and there is plenty more where that came from.” He gestured toward the fridge. He smiled and handed the man a coin. The Frenchman did not seem insulted and Taylor took it as a good sign.

  “Very good sir. If you need anything else just call the concierge, we are always happy to oblige our guests here at the Ritz. Bon apatite!” With that the little man walked out of the suite. As soon as he left he walked down the hall to the stairs and pulled out a cell phone. He punched a number and waited a few seconds.

  “Marcus. We have a problem.” He walked into the stairwell and disappeared.

  Taylor looked at the food and sat at the small but lovely round table complete with a silver set and candelabra. It was straight out of a movie and his only regret that he was experiencing all of this by himself. He took a small bite and relished the flavor. It was unlike anything he had ever tasted and he ate very slowly enjoying each mouthful. It was rich and heavy and completely satisfying and he let his eyes wander around the room again where they stopped when he saw the clock on the wall. Three thirty! It was three thirty in the morning and Celine was just sending him food now? That was ridiculous and completely suspicious. Still it could have been a mix up but he was pretty sure that mix ups like that did not happen too often at the Ritz on the Champs Elysees. He took a few more bites and realized just how very tired he was. He could finish his research in the morning before he talked to Sasha and then he thought he would take the train to Orleans. It could prove interesting. At least he could see a little of the countryside while he was here. He couldn’t even think of touching the dessert which looked like a big puffy peach thing. Too tired even to change he lay himself on the sumptuous bed and fell almost instantly to sleep. He began to dream right away. It was the nightmare again. The same nightmare that had plagued him for as long as he could remember had followed him across the ocean. It was the dream that caused him to start drinking so long ago and every once in a while it returned to him. No therapist had ever been able to figure it out or make it go away. One of them suggested that as soon as he realized he was in the dream again that he was to start changing it. It never worked. Once he realized he was in the dream he slowly began to become the character and it was all too real as if this were his life. Little by little the images moved in his mind and he found himself once again in the midst of an angry crowd.

  “Kill her!” People were shouting all around him and pushing him out of the way. The first thing he was aware of was the appalling odor that was threatening to make him sick. He had to keep moving. He had to get to the courtyard before it was too late and the pressing mob halted his progress. There were people of all ages and most of them looked as if they hadn’t eaten in a very long time. The air was chilly but most of them had very little clothing to keep warm. It was obvious they were all poo
r and when he looked down at his own body he could see that he too was one of the wretched masses. It was also obvious that the crowd was angry in an insane manner that happened when people gathered together in a frenzy.

  “Kill her!” The shouts were getting louder and each time he heard those words he was paralyzed with dread. This could not be happening. This simply could not be. How did they ever allow her to come into the city? She was supposed to be on her way south to escape the violence that was erupting everywhere. She was supposed to meet him in a few days where they would take up residence in one of the small towns in the south of France. What had happened to their plan? He began to shove his way through the ocean of people not caring whether or not he was causing them harm. At one point the actually stepped on someone crying from cold pavement. He had to save her. He had to stop the wheel that had been set in motion. The smell was getting worse and he was being crushed by the ever increasing amount of people trying to squeeze into the courtyard. Finally by some miracle he was through. He looked up and saw the dreaded contraption. It was already covered in someone’s blood. Was he too late? He looked around the platform and his heart stopped when he saw her up above the putrid crowd. What was she doing there? Her clothes had been ripped and her hair was in disarray. She was looking through the people no doubt trying to find him. Please look at me! He thought over and over again. I am right here. After an eternity her eyes found his. She smiled. She actually smiled! A single tear was running down her cheek. He started to fight his way to the front of the platform but was knocked back by a man with a shovel. His head reeled in pain but he fought it to try once again to get to his beloved. She looked at him in earnest and mouthed a single word.

  “No.” He could not hear her voice but imagined it as if it were real. The voice that he had heard coo him to sleep night after night when they were able to sneak away from the prying eyes of the noblemen and women in her inner circle. Far away from the court of Versailles they had found love in each other’s arms even though all the world could have told them it was wrong. None of that mattered now. All that mattered was that he save her. He closed his eyes and began to chant. He was no longer in the throng of the irate populace in the midst of Paris. He was standing alone on the vast plains of a land that he never knew the name of He was chanting over and over again the words he had learned so many lifetimes ago He readied his arms and opened his mouth to the skies. Thunder appeared from nowhere and shortly after the lightning began to strike nearby. A thunderstorm in the middle of winter would certainly be a diversion. He looked around as the frozen rain began to all on the crowd hoping for it’s dispersal. The weather only seemed to fuel the anger of the mindless mass of pitiful humanity. The screaming and ranting continued with even more fervor if that were at all possible. This could not be happening! She was still looking at him and beyond his comprehension he saw that she was smiling. Two men pushed her forward to the evil machine that everyone had their sights on. He could see now that her hands were tied behind her back. She never stopped looking at him. The men pushed her head through the wooden plate and locked it in it’s place. He began to scream now and tried once again to rush onto the raised platform that was dripping in blood. Again someone bashed him in the head. This time it was a rock and he faltered while his own blood began to fall into his eyes. She was saying something. It looked as if she were praying. The lightning struck again and this time in the corner of the courtyard killing several of the onlookers. People began to shriek and cry out. He looked again to the platform. The blade was falling and never once did her eyes leave his until her head fell from her lifeless body. The crowd sent up a cheer. Now he was filled with a killing rage. He began to chant again and the lightning struck the very platform where she had just been killed and the two men who had murdered the woman he loved were simply no more. The wooden structure began to waver and topple to one side as a loud creaking groan was heard. Before he jumped out of the way he saw a woman with a gray cloak covering her head rushing off the stage. She just managed to get off of it on time before it fell into splintered chaos. He did not see her face but was sure that there was a mass of red curls spilling forth from the hood of her very expensive garment. People were falling on top of him in fear as the crowd had gone insane with fear and blood lust. They began to run for their lives and it seemed as if the fire from the sky was purposefully picking out citizens one by one and two by two. People were screaming as their hair burned off their bodies in no time at all. The last thing he remembered before being crushed to death by the crowd was his lover’s name.