When Pellegrini showed up at the UNICOMA office again, he was greeted with open arms like an old friend. When he asked bluntly which parts were missing from the damaged computer, no one knew the answer. The only person with that information was the system manager Simon Droit, and this was the third day that he hadn’t been at work.
“The fact is he’s taking treatment for cancer,” one of his female colleagues explained.
“For cancer?” Pellegrini was surprised. “And he’s been away for three days? I happen to know that cancer is treated with by a course of pills and no sick leave is required. One of my subordinates had the treatment last year.”
“Yes, that’s if you go to the doctor immediately but Simon dragged things out too long, so now he had to take a sick leave. We told him to go to the doctor and get a prescription but he kept saying: ‘I’m not going until I kill Trot’.”
“Kill Trot?” Pellegrini repeated, alarmed. “I beg your pardon?”
“He was playing an online game World of the Worlds…or something like that and he had this sworn enemy, Trot,” Simon’s female colleague informed the commissioner only too eagerly, and from all the details she knew Pellegrini realized that she had a yen for the person she was talking about. Or else she happened to play this game too.
Eventually they managed to get the administrator on the phone and Pellegrini explained to him that he was investigating the terrorist attack and would like to know what part was missing from the smashed computer.
“The board was smashed and a large piece was missing. I could have just ordered a new monitor and a case but I had to replace the machine completely because of that board,” the system administrator replied blandly.
“So it was a board?”
“Yes, the base board. They used to call them mother boards. That was because the daughter boards were attached to it.”
Pellegrini realized that now he would have to survive a flood of unnecessary information from a man who didn’t have anyone to talk to about the things that interested him, so he preferred to say goodbye.
After lunch he had a talk with Pierre, the young man who was injured, who didn’t add anything new. The last was the retired army man, who had downloaded his energy and lived not far away at the other side of Menton. He answered all the questions docilely, without displaying the slightest interest in the commissioner. Pellegrini wasn’t able to question the woman, she was away, and there was no point in questioning Isaac Leroy: the report had mentioned his sister’s operation, and his motives were crystal clear.
Pellegrini arrived back in Paris from Monaco, finally closed the case and sent the materials of the investigation to the archive. The last thing he needed now was for the trifling trips he had made to surface in an audit.
When the friends got back from London, they suddenly found themselves at a big party. True to his style, Wolanski arranged another surprise. Although he had not planned on returning home before he received his inheritance, he came back after all and organized a party for his own birthday. There were lots of people at the villa and the guests drank and made merry to good music. Isaac and Bikie were pleasantly surprised – Peter had turned out to be less cautious than they thought at first.
Their host greeted them like old friends. Isaac apologized because they didn’t have a present, adding that they simply hadn’t been expecting to see Peter here and they wouldn’t like to cause him any trouble.
“No problem but I do have a present for you. You’ll see it later,” Peter said with a mysterious smile. “I thought about the security aspect and it’s fine, I’m not taking any risks. Formally speaking there’s a month or a month and a half left until I get my inheritance – or a couple of weeks, if I’m lucky. I decided to celebrate my birthday, even though you are living here. To be honest, after Amsterdam, I miss our little group more and more. I didn’t feel like celebrating without you so I decided to come back, get a few friends over and hold a party. Go change and join in.”
The guys dumped their things, took a quick shower and joined the other guests, who gathered around the pool. A zany old DJ was playing music, which sounded different from the modern stuff. It was obviously the choice of a veteran of the underground, not some disc from the UNICOMA music label. It was like Isaac’s good old student days, apart from the fact that the party was happening at a super-cool villa.
Isaac scanned the guests. An interesting crowd mostly from rich families with none of the Veggies. People who had enough money for the good life were in no hurry to sell their creativity although lots of people who used to be rich had gone bust together with their companies when they couldn’t compete with UNICOMA.
There were a lot of beautiful girls, all dressed very elegantly, not flashily. All were sleek, well-groomed, with lovely slim figures.
Maybe they weren’t big fans of all the latest innovations, but they definitely used the new generation of creams and other personal care products.
Isaac sipped champagne out of a fancy glass, enjoying himself as he strolled among these representatives of high society. He met a well-known TV presenter, a few girls who were famous models, and Peter and Sandrine were sitting right there, surrounded by their friends. When Peter spotted Isaac, he started making gestures that were hard to understand. Isaac eventually realized that Peter was pointing out someone sitting over to one side, behind the DJ’s console. Isaac set off in the direction indicated, but he couldn’t make out who was there through the flashing of the light organ. When he got closer, he realized what the “present” was that Peter set up for him. He had invited Michelle Blanche.
Isaac was totally delighted. If only there were more Peters in this life! He turned back towards the birthday boy’s table and gave him a big thumbs-up sign! Peter smiled and replied with the same gesture.
Michelle was very beautiful with her hair gathered into a simple ponytail, the minimum of makeup and just a touch of lipstick on her plump lips. Small earrings with no watch or bracelets. The modest, short little black dress exposed her sharp little knees. Her outfit was completed by lacquered sandals with high heels. Everything seemingly so restrained, but she looked stunning.
“HI Michelle! It seems that this semi-darkness adds some mystique to your beauty, mind if I join you?” Having drunk a glass of champagne after his journey, Isaac was in exactly the right condition – not yet drunk, but already feeling confident.
“Hi there! No, I don’t. How are you getting on, Isaac?” Michelle moved from the center of the sofa to one side, so that Isaac could sit down.
“I’m good. Everything’s going fine,” Isaac said and kissed the girl on both cheeks. He pointed to Michelle’s almost empty glass. “Maybe I could bring you another juice?”
“Yes please, only instead of juice, bring me a Bellini.”
“How about I bring you a different cocktail? You’ll like it. It’s based on champagne too. I’m an ex-barman after all, and I have cocktails that I invented myself.”
“Alright, but only if it’s not too strong.”
“Well, they are just a little bit strong, but one or two won’t cause any problems.”
Isaac came back carrying two at once: one was of a bright golden color and the other hand a bronze shimmer to it.
Michelle tried the golden one first.
“Whoa, that tastes good! What’s in it? Wait, let me guess… Champagne, that’s clear enough. Something orangey and maybe something with coffee?” she added, and then sniffed the second glass: “And this one smells of coconut.”
“I won’t tell you the ingredients, or you won’t drink it! But you’ve guessed most of the smells,” said Isaac, smiling. He was dying to boast about the recipe he had invented, but restrained himself. . “I’ll tell you, but first let’s see if you can figure it out yourself.”
“Well, the coconut flavor is clear enough. It’s Malibu. I’ll have another think about the rest. So you don’t just invent cunning little devices, but cocktails as well?” Michelle asked with a disarming smile.<
br />
“How do you know that I’m an inventor?”
“Peter told me. He said he had a pair of interesting characters living at his place, talented inventors. He said one them was an avid biker, and I’d seen the other one a couple of times. It was obviously you he meant.”
Isaac flushed with embarrassment and pleasure. It was a good thing Peter hadn’t introduced them as caretakers keeping an eye on his house.
“Yes, I’m an inventor.” That had a proud ring, and Isaac thrust out his chest. “And what do you do?”
“I wanted to be a designer. I was pretty good at it, and I developed a few fairly promising concepts. Unfortunately it didn’t grow into a business; it’s more of a hobby.”
“Why?”
“UNICOMA. They turn out excellent design concepts for quite low prices. It’s hard to compete with them. It’s possible, but the market has slumped badly. There’s no financial motivation. It would be more accurate just to say I do creative work.”
“That’s not so very terrible for you; after all you’re fairly…”
“Rich?”
“Well, yes. Well-fixed, you don’t need money all that badly.”
“Not strictly for financial reasons no, but when your ideas die without ever being born, it’s painful. I want to show what I can do. Show that I’m not just…”
“Devastatingly beautiful,” Isaac put in.
“Thank you. To show that I’m not just another pretty face. Apart from a diploma in design I got top marks in many exact sciences.”
“Oh! Heavy! I remember you have a high creativity quotient, but exact sciences – that’s even heavier.”
“But how do you know Peter? Quite an unusual person you are. Peter is no fool either, your friend is an inventor, and so are you. You came bouncing up to me that time with some kind of slogans. You surrounded yourself with creative people. Have you got a special nose for them?”
“Something like that. People like that fascinate me.”
Narrowing her lids, Michelle examined Isaac, finished her cocktail, put the glass down on the table and said in an affectedly stern voice:
“Now, tell me what you’ve dosed me with…some kind of love potion?”
“Almost. Unfortunately it’s just Brut champagne with Malibu and Cointreau in it.”
“Delicious. Champagne and liqueurs. You villain! And what is it called?”
“Lucky Blonde.”
“Ohhhh, is your girlfriend a blonde?”
“No, no,” he protested. “I haven’t got a girlfriend, it’s just a name. I thought it sounded nice!” he said, deciding not to mention that he really had named the cocktail in honor of Anna, his undivided university love. Her name on Instagram was luckyblonde, so he chose it as the title of his creation.
“You’re lying. Even in the dark I can see that you just lied. So you’re a romantic too?” Isaac’s cocktail tasted great, it had a nice color, and besides all that it went straight to your head from the very first glass. Michelle was no exception, she was joking and smiling.
“And the second one,” said Isaac, primly deciding to change the subject, “is called ‘Star Bridge’. It’s champagne too, with Amaretto and Grand Marnier. Like a bridge to the stars. Those ones up there,” he said pointing to the sky.
Michelle looked up too, at the pure black sky, spangled with bright stars.
It wasn’t cold at all, but Isaac shivered, moved closer to Michelle and took hold of her hand. She didn’t object, on the contrary, she put her head on his shoulder.
Everything was going so well, but then up walked Bikie and Peter, two moment killers.
“Damn you to hell, Bikie, can’t you guys see you’ve picked the wrong moment?” thought Isaac. But the moment had been lost. Bikie had lugged over four glasses of champagne.
“I want to propose a toast to Peter. He’s a true character! Alive and natural, not some kind of a fake. You are young, and you’re only just at the beginning of your road, so don’t turn off it! Happy Birthday, as they say. Happy in the good sense of the word! Dammit, what a fine word they’ve ruined!” Bikie screwed up his face theatrically and everyone laughed.
“To Peter!” Michelle joined in, getting to her feet.
“To Peter!” Bikie roared, after switching off the sound on the DJ’s console.
“To Peter!” voices echoed on all sides, alternating with the clinking of glasses.
Sandrine came over and took the birthday boy away to dance. Bikie set off to get another glass and Isaac and Michelle were left alone together again.
“Would you like me to show you my main invention?” Isaac suggested.
“Yes, do.”
Isaac went to his room and came back down with the V-Rain.
“A very stylish little instrument. I tell you that as a professional designer.” Her words were sweet music to Isaac’s ears.
“The design’s actually not the most important thing. Press this button here when it’s raining, and not a drop will fall on you. It’s like you’re under a dome.”
“Oh, wow! Great! I’ve never seen anything like that before. That’s a really useful item for someone in an evening dress with a fancy hairstyle,” said Michelle, impressed. “I could use one of those.”
“That’s not all,” said Isaac, glad that his invention had been appreciated, and moreover, by a girl he liked so much. “You can use it in all sorts of other places, as a personal umbrella or as a public one. You can keep the rain off restaurant terraces, or even have an exhibition of watercolors out in the street. The patent has been registered.”
“I see you really are an inventor. Peter wasn’t exaggerating. Good for you! You are an interesting guy. Did you drop that glass at my feet deliberately that time?”
“No, by accident sorry.”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I can believe you. Every time I see you, you pull some really offbeat stunt.”
“That’s the effect you have on me. I get dizzy and glasses start falling.”
Michelle put her arm on Isaac’s shoulders. Isaac tried to kiss her but Michelle pulled away.
“I’m a strait laced girl, not so fast. You’re too quick off the mark!” said Michelle, smiling.
Isaac couldn’t tell if she was serious or not. He could see she thought he was cute and found him interesting. But he couldn’t figure out if he should try to kiss her again or if it was better not to. Probably better not to, he could spoil everything. And today he could get to know her better. The party was in full swing, no one was getting ready to leave yet.
These sober thoughts didn’t linger in his head for long. A few minutes later he did kiss her after all, and this time she didn’t draw back.
Chapter eight
The next morning was a hot one, with the principality scorching with sunshine. At his old place in weather like this, Isaac would literally have been gasping for breath, and he preferred to go early to his job in the bar where strong air conditioners buzzed quietly and it was relatively cool. But that problem was behind him now. At the Wolanski villa it was great. Squeezed in between cliffs on both sides it was always slightly in the shade, and in addition there was always a breeze blowing in this little gap, even on a completely windless day.
The electric cleaners hummed away steadily outside, tidying up after the party. Isaac and Bikie, in an excellent mood, had sat themselves in the living room and were studying in more detail the photographs they had managed to get hold of at Link University.
Isaac noticed that in some of the photos Link looked rather odd by modern standards. An American would have called his appearance “old-fashioned”, and an Englishman would have called it “classic”. In some of the photos Link was holding a cigar.
“Look, Bikie, in this photo here and here too. Link smoked and he smoked cigars. Smoking has already been conquered, right?”
“That’s right, it has,” replied Bikie. “I got cured myself; I never thought it would be so easy. I just took the pills – and goodbye, years of nicotine
addiction. I don’t feel the slightest desire to smoke, in fact it disgusts me. Although there are some rich old farts that still suck on their cigars and pipes.”
“And Link smokes! Maybe he still smokes now. It doesn’t look like our stubborn Link changed his habits of many years. That could be our lead. It is cretins like that, who think cigars aren’t really all that harmful, who keep the remaining Cuban factories in business. Let’s see what we can dig up on the subject.”
Isaac remembered the jubilation at the final victory over nicotine addiction. For three hundred years smoking had been a problem for ordinary people and a source of big money for the tobacco industry. UNICOMA screwed the influential tobacco lobby by releasing a drug that cured nicotine addiction, both physical and psychological, with just two tablets. In a flawless marketing move, UNICOMA handed out the medication absolutely free, exchanging two tablets for a single cigarette of any brand. The tobacco conglomerates were crushed like pitiful worms; they went bankrupt in just a few weeks. The tablets flew off the shelves like hot cakes; people gathered in parks and burned their cigarettes together. There aren’t very many ideas that can unite the entire world in a single impulse, but cigarettes were burned in parks from America to China.
The day they started handing out the free tablets was a global holiday, a celebration of independence. Independence from nicotine which used to take a million human lives a year. People lost millions on their tobacco shares, some even committed suicide but no one felt sorry for them. The hands of the tobacco company owners might not be bloodstained in the literal sense, but figuratively speaking they were dripping with gore.
Anyone that still wanted to smoke could only find a tobacco shop in the very biggest cities, or they ordered the old-fashioned poison on the internet. Cigarettes already cost almost as much as cigars, their price rocketed as sales plummeted. A month later the Agency spectacularly bolstered its influence by releasing a cheap remedy for cancer.
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