by Roddy Murray
Blaine started floating and swaying as Zelnik detailed the test results, the double checks which had been carried out and the confirmation of secondary cancers. He had once watched a film set at the outbreak of WW2. In it some poor general had had to tell President Roosevelt about Pearl Harbour. He felt dizzy and sick as Zelnik told him how bad his own Pearl Harbour was.
"How long have I got?" Blaine finally managed to ask. "A maximum of six months," said Zelnik after a pause.
Six fucking months, thought Blaine. Six months at best by the sound of it. That meant he might just last for one final Christmas with his wife and kids but there was no chance of another six week tour with Delores. He only vaguely felt guilty at wishing it was the other way round.
"There must be something I can do to stop it or slow it down. Christ, hasn't medicine come up with a cure for this yet?" Blaine almost shouted.
He was angry and was taking it out on Zelnik. He knew this was wrong and knew also that he had been ignoring the symptoms and pains he'd been getting for months before the annual check-up. It was partly that normal male, macho shit that denies any problems with one's health automatically. But he had to admit that he had not wanted anything to get in the way of his grand tour with his gorgeous PA.
After a few minutes which had seemed to last a lifetime Dan Bartleman re-joined them without Delores. In what seemed a pre-arranged move, Dan nodded to Zelnik who got up and walked towards the bar with obvious relief spreading over his face and indeed his movements.
Dan took the vacated chair and looked long and hard at Blaine to gauge his state of mind. It was not just that Blaine had made him a whole heap of money and had the potential to make a whole heap more which went through his mind. Although a man of ruthless business
tendencies, Dan had grown to like Blaine and regard him as the nearest thing to a friend amongst the senior staff of the companies he controlled. This news would devastate everyone who had to face it but if anyone could deal with it and stay focussed it would be Blaine McCoard. Dan needed to know that Blaine was still capable of listening, reasoning and considering options before he started his next pitch.
"How you doing, son?" he asked with genuine concern. "Oh, reeling a bit from Old Vic's news, I'm afraid, but hanging in there, I guess."
Dan looked hard into the younger man's face and decided the mental toughness needed to run one of his global companies appeared to have survived the bombshell.
"I can't tell you how sorry I was to hear the news. Vic came to me with it first to ask my advice on how to break it to you. I hope you don't mind, son."
Blaine knew that any news which might affect any aspect of Nebus's performance or share price would go to Dan first. He suspected he would hear about the second coming before anyone else did if it ever happened and would have share options ready to take full advantage.
"Of course not," he replied in a stronger voice than he had expected. "I appreciate you coming over with him. I know how busy you are."
Dan took comfort from the tone of resolve in Blaine’s voice and pushed on.
"Vic has confirmed that conventional medicine holds no hope for curing you at this point in time," he said, deliberately not sugar-coating the truth. "I want you to know that whatever happens we will provide and pay for any treatment needed to ease things, and Beth and the kids will be taken care of whatever. However, I want to discuss an option that may be of interest to you which Zelnik knows nothing about."
Dan looked around the lobby carefully to ensure that nobody was within earshot.
"As you know the Nebus parent company has a diverse range of interests throughout the world ranging from defence to medical and some charitable foundations. All of which are profitable. Within the medical portfolio we have a subsidiary called Nebus Bioscience."
Blaine looked at Dan wondering what the fuck he was talking about. He had mentioned options, which were non-existent as far as Old Vic was concerned, but he now appeared to be giving Blaine a briefing on Nebus Holdings Inc. which he certainly could do without at this exact moment in time, thank you very much. The old guy is losing it he thought to himself, with an edge of bitterness and self-pity which he was not used to and didn't much like.
Dan continued unconcerned by Blaine’s expression. "Nebus Bioscience was set up to tap into the possibilities of cloning and any marketable spin-offs. Remember Dolly the sheep?"
Blaine nodded, vaguely remembering the news story and wondering if Nebus saw sheep as a profitable side-line.
"Various strands of research developed from that within Nebus, looking at everything from life extension to hair restoration, both of which are potentially hugely profitable markets. A lot of work was done on the separate brain development of some of Dolly's clones, exploring the way brain pattern affected the life expectancy of each sheep. In the end that avenue proved to be a heap of shit and was cancelled but the brain pattern research continued with a lot of success and was viewed as having potential for other applications. Now, my nephew Robert heads up the main unit near Edinburgh and reports to me personally. Recently his researchers had a breakthrough in mapping the human brain and personality traits using some of the superfast computers our military division has developed. These computers are so powerful that for the first time they have the capacity to record and store the entire brain function of a human brain."
Blaine was listening politely, or he hoped his face suggested as much, but he was still more concerned with dying, telling his wife and kids the good news and having a relatively short time left in sufficient good health to appeal to Delores. Identical sheep and Dan's nephew's brain weren't even in the Top 100 things he gave a shit about at this time. But for whatever reason this was all important to Dan and so he kept listening with part of his own brain.
"Recently," Dan continued, "Robert's team successfully recorded the full mapping of a rat's brain on their computer. They were then able to replicate it in the brain of another rat. Test's on the second rat proved that it behaved exactly like its donor rat and remembered lessons it had learned regarding feeding apparatus, etc."
Dan paused to make sure Blaine was still with him. A nod suggested he was.
"Now this is where you come in."
Blaine started to give Dan his full attention again.
"Robert is convinced that a full transfer of all brain function took place, including a full copy of the rat's memory and if so there was no reason why this could not be replicated with a human being."
Blaine looked at Dan, trying to understand exactly what he was saying, but could not fully get it.
Dan saw his difficulty and went on, "In other words we think we can map the full extent of a human brain and transfer it to another one. To put it bluntly, we could record everything that you are, what you know, can do, everything you remember, and transfer it from your present body to another healthy one."
Dan stopped to see if the implication of this had sunk into Blaine’s delicate consciousness.
"Are you kidding," said Blaine without the customary respectful tone he always had for Dan. "I'm going to die soon and you’re trying to give me hope with some hairbrained (no pun intended) scheme to transfer me to somebody else’s body. It may have seemed to work with a rat or two but a human is different. I don't want to be the guinea pig for your first go on a human. If I only have a few months left then so be it, but I'll live it to the full while I can without being lobotomised by your nephew."
Then after a pause with some element of respect, "Thank you for your concern, though."
Again Dan looked round to check that nobody else could hear him then continued.
"You would not be the first guinea pig. Our partners in the military provided two suitable trial subjects for us. Terrorists or something like that. Not Americans anyway. Robert's team flew to the States and spent three weeks mapping the brain patterns and functions of both. Once they were sure they had recorded it all accurately they successfully stopped the brain functions of both and then restarted bot
h brains with each other’s maps. The experiment was successful."
Blaine was reeling for the second time today. "So these people woke up in the wrong bodies and just accepted it."
"Not quite. The first couple of trials weren't as successful. The subjects had huge compatibility problems and failed to adjust to the new setting but Bobby worked that out too. Both subjects have to have a certain amount in common such as approximate age, height, blood type and most important of all their brain maps have to be broadly similar in a number of ways. For example a driven, go-getter needs to be put into a similar host. I'm not a boffin, I'm a money man, as you know, but Bobby has it pretty well sussed. He has a medical degree and a PhD in something really technical to do with computing. I paid the bills so I should know but he also has an MBA from Harvard to make sure it all made money. That was a condition of mine for funding the other studies. Bottom line is, he says it's safe and knows what he is talking about. So what do you say?"
Blaine was up to speed or beyond in anything to do with semi-conductor manufacturing but this sounded way beyond what was possible. Even if Dan and his nephew could now do this he had serious concerns. Dan hadn't mentioned the unsuccessful trials to start with for one. For another, who was going to volunteer to swap bodies with a terminally ill, overweight executive? Then there was the question of how he would explain his change of appearance to Delores and all his friends? And, Christ! His wife and kids. No, this was madness from start to finish, and he was about to say so when he changed his mind. It surprised him how calmly he could reason about this. But then that had been the way with many previous conversations with Dan. Calmly discussing the options and ways out of a crisis situation while suppressing the sheer terror he should have felt. Why should this be any different he thought?
"Okay Dan. Suppose this is possible, and I am really suspending disbelief here. Why would anyone swap with me?"
He had decided to go through the main questions which had arisen in his head, one by one and this seemed the best one to start with.
"Money probably, or someone facing death in prison, we're working on that right now back at head office. Bobby is also up all night on this, going through all his files and previous assessments to come up with a suitable candidate. My gut feeling is that it won't be too difficult to get a match."
Blaine continued with question after question and found Dan ready with a confident reply to each. After a while he slumped back in his chair exhausted. Dan could see it in Blaine’s face. Not just the fatigue from work, travel and the bad news tonight, but for the first time he realised that Blaine looked ill.
"Listen son, you've had quite an evening of it tonight and need some rest. Your commitments tomorrow will be cancelled by my assistant when the plant opens in the morning. Get some sleep and have a long lie if you can manage it but remember this. We need you to run this company and move on to bigger things within the parent group and we are prepared to do whatever it takes to keep you if we can. But above all else remember that, ill as you are, you don't have to die."
Dan stood up and in a reversal of the norm which both men thought nothing of, he helped Blaine to his feet. They made their way slowly to the bar where Vic Zelnik was back to drinking his customary fruit juice and Delores was nowhere to be seen.
The doctor explained that he had told Delores merely that Blaine wasn't 100% and would need some time off for treatment and to recuperate. She was probably smart enough to realise Dan Bartleman didn't usually fly round the world helping deliver such news and there must be more to it. Either way she was definitely smart enough to politely express her concern and head off to her room alone to maintain a sense of propriety with Dan here. Blaine would tell her soon enough. Probably tomorrow to avoid any chance of being caught together in the same hotel room.
Blaine refused another drink and said good night to Dan and Zelnik. But he did accept a sleeping pill from the doctor before heading to his room; 7.5 mg Zopiclone; very much the entry level for insomniacs. Without it he knew there was little chance of sleeping, and boy, did he need to sleep. Jet lag, energetic nights with Delores on top of the normal cares and strains of running a multinational would have exhausted even a well man. Blaine now knew for definite that was one thing he was not.
Chapter Five
On the journey Frank had started to ask Bob about Nebus Bioscience in the hope he had some inside gen, but Bob had never heard of them before and couldn't help. So instead they had passed the journey talking about football, music, politics and anything else that came to mind. Bob had asked if Frank was flying out somewhere as the booking was to take him to the Hilton beside Edinburgh Airport and that seemed logical. Frank had wondered about making up some exotic destination but in the end had just said enigmatically he had to meet some people there.
This had set Bob's mind off on a range of possibilities. Frank didn't look or sound like a chief executive, corporate lawyer or even a sales rep. Sneaking a look over at Frank at that point in the conversation, he had decided hit man was more likely. An anonymous meeting, an exchange of envelopes over lunch at the Hilton then Frank would fly out to somewhere in Africa or the Middle East, pop the mark then fly back, collect a second envelope and vanish without a trace. Bob read too many thrillers.
Eventually they reached the Hilton and declining Bob's offer of help, Frank grabbed his bags and walked into the Hotel. He walked up to the reception where a very attractive Polish girl asked if she could help.
"The name's Chisholm," said Frank. "There should be a reservation for me."
Frank loved this.
"Yes Mr Chisholm," confirmed the receptionist. "We have you booked in for three weeks through Nebus."
She handed him the keycard for the room and asked him to sign the form she printed out with his check- in details on it. Declining her offer of help with his luggage (he assumed she would organise some pimply youth to help rather than accompanying him to the room herself) he picked up his two bags, flexing all his muscles which were visible to the receptionist and walked to the lift. Looking back the receptionist had returned to her paperwork unimpressed. Not to worry, thought Frank, three weeks of residency in which to pull gave him plenty of time.
The lift went up one floor and the door pinged open. Frank made his way to his room and opened the door. The room was large and made a mockery of the average barrack room he'd had to stay in during his years in the Paras. He was pleased to note that his was a 'deluxe room plus', suggesting the good people at Nebus Bioscience were intent on rather spoiling him. A large 32 inch TV screen and a very comfortable easy chair to sit in whilst watching it caught his eye, although he suspected the large desk and office chair would remain unused during his visit. The bed looked suitable for all purposes he might need it for, even a good night's sleep. It also faced the TV screen on the opposite wall so the comfy chair would see less use too. He wondered if the in-house entertainment included porn and if Nebus would pay for that, then decided not to push his luck.
The arrangements had been to settle in that day and be ready for a courtesy vehicle at nine the next morning. He had arrived with enough time to use the swimming pool and gym before making the most of the restaurant which was called The Space, combining bar, restaurant and lounge. It promised a menu with foods geared towards productivity and natural energy boosts. He suspected Nebus would put that to the test but he was ready for anything they could throw at him. All this luxury and a fat cheque at the end of it. Frank was lapping it up.
His plans for the evening went better than he could have hoped for. A fairly easy hour or so in the gym, upping the tempo just enough to impress whenever any female entered, was followed by a few lengths in the pool. While he was in the gym a classy lady of about 40 or so had come in and done an energetic 25 minutes on the cross trainer. Frank had been sure at the time she was eying him up but had tried to stay aloof. As he left for the pool, however, he had nonchalantly smiled as he passed her and said good evening. She had later followed his lead to the p
ool and swam several lengths herself. He had finished his visit to the leisure complex with a visit to the sauna and knew he had scored when the lady joined him there.
Her name was Charlotte from Carshalton, which she explained was part of the London borough of Sutton. Frank nodded his head as if fascinated but really didn't give a monkey's where she came from. She obviously worked out on a very regular basis, having a slim figure that belied her years. She was a project manager with one of the big banks and was here to train a group of staff in their Edinburgh headquarters on a new reporting system. Normally she would have been put up in a budget hotel in the city centre but everywhere had been full for the dates she was there so she got lucky and ended up at the Hilton. Four days down and three to go, she was enjoying her first visit to Edinburgh, although she admitted she had been quite lonely so far, being well out from the town centre.
Your lonely nights are over, thought Frank as he asked if she fancied joining him for dinner, as he too was here alone. Her speed at accepting confirmed Frank's assessment of the situation. He would not be needing the in-house porn tonight. As she stood up to leave she squeezed his thigh for support and he knew he was in.
After a shower in his room and getting dressed in some of his coolest new clothes Frank headed for The Space and a night with Charlotte from Carshalton. She was already there before the appointed hour wearing a sprayed on dress which showed off her figure to its best advantage. A plunging neckline kept his attention most of the meal and he sincerely hoped that the food did indeed give you energy and improve your performance or whatever they had promised.
She was initially surprised that he didn't drink but his job as a professional trainer explained that to her satisfaction. It avoided any discussion of his previous drinking patterns and she decided from his fitness level and build that he must always have looked after himself and said so. Little did she know, thought Frank, but this was no time to be uneconomical with the truth.