by Jay Begler
The Reforma ran a ten-day exposé on the Cartel and described every phase of its operation and culture in minute detail. A large photograph of Morales on the front of the first segment carried Morales’ photo with the notation, “EL FANTASMA.” The following year, Luis, the son of a cleaning lady, won a Pulitzer Prize for journalism, as did his paper.
Clarity
The Mexican amnesty program eliminated the supply of Clarity entering the United States. Inventories of the drug in the hands of US based dealers soon ran out. At one level, this was a victory for the American government, particularly law enforcement agencies. It was, however, a calamity for all those families whose loved ones were cured by Clarity from dementia and Alzheimer’s. The users and their families, all law-abiding citizens, some with considerable influence, became desperate for the drug. Through use of social media, it was easy enough for people to organize into a large important political block that would back anyone willing to come to their aid. Politicians soon aligned with a test program to have certain pharmaceutical companies test and then manufacture and sell Clarity at reasonable prices.
The reason for bona fide drug testing became clear within three years. Prior to Amnesty, the drug had been on the market for less than two years. No one was aware of the long-term effects or effectiveness of the drug. One of the most disappointing aspects of the drug was that after use for a few years or so it was no longer effective. With few exceptions, patients on the drug receded more deeply into the disease. Those long-term users who continued on the drug began to notice yellowish tint to their skin, which was a marker of liver failure. The FDA ultimately ordered Clarity off the market in favor of other accepted drug therapies.
Digital Heroin
The promise held for Digital Heroin was never fulfilled. Despite all the governmental and corporate efforts to perfect light and aural stimuli that would provoke the production of endorphins, the ultimate replacement for hard drugs was never accomplished. The Chinese, who carried their experimentation to extremes, also found that long exposure to light variations through AR glasses destroyed the users’ retinas. After the experiments ended, there were rumors, denied emphatically by the Chinese government, that there was a special place on the outskirts of Beijing that housed 25,000 blind people.
The Alcatraz Option
For Federal and state governments, the Option was a great success. Over the few years that it had been in place, the technology associated with it became significantly more sophisticated. Doctors could adjust dosages of Atrax to age prisoners with great specificity. Thus, a prisoner could be aged by five and a half years or forty-five years and three months. State governments were now offering certain classes of inmates, white collar and non-violent prisoners, immediate aging options using an approach called the “one-hundred and fifty percent formula,” for example, go to jail for six years or age nine years.
Within two years, the inmate population of prison facilities fell far below their capacities. Prisons throughout the country were consolidated, and those left empty were put in “mothballs” so to speak. Alcatraz, to the joy of San Franciscans, was again a tourist attraction, but with additional historical notes, photographs and film clips about post Clarity prison conditions. Alcatraz Penitentiary was sold and bore a new sign, “A Four Seasons Hotel.”
So successful was the Option, that politicians supported the idea that the aging process should no longer be voluntary, but mandatory. Instead of receiving jail terms, convicted felons would receive “aging terms.” California was the first state to pass a mandatory aging law with a set of comprehensive age sentencing guidelines. Other states followed suit. The ACLU immediately challenged the laws as unconstitutional. It took a decade for the suits to wend their way to the Supreme Court. In a unanimous decision, the justices ruled that the mandatory aging laws were constitutional and did not constitute cruel and unusual punishment, and that even those currently incarcerated were not immune to the mandatory aging process.
Isabella
Three years passed since the death of Louisa. Isabella measured everything from that day. She had become a Parisian, speaking only French and even thinking in French. She lived in a magnificent apartment on the rue Des Francs Bourgeois off the Place des Vosges, and her life fell into a routine that helped to blunt the depression that floated in and out of her consciousness periodically. She attended art classes and lectures. Four days a week she would put up some of her canvases on a bench in a corner of the Place de Voges, take out an easel and paint. She became a patron of the Musée d’Orsay after giving a donation of a million dollar. After making an astounding donation of ten million dollars, Isabella became one of its directors. Given her brilliant intellect and encyclopedic knowledge of art, she soon gained the respect and admiration of the Parisian art community. No longer caring about her looks, she discarded her veil. Isabella also became a regular at the best restaurants in Paris, always dining alone, opting between courses to fall into the companionship of her iPad.
Daniel and Rebecca
Daniel and Rebecca were too busy the first two months after they returned from Mexico to think about their futures. There were endless debriefings with many law enforcement agencies. Her fiction, which everyone believed, was that Hector Morales abducted her because he wanted her to use her molecule to develop a super-drug. “At first, I told Morales (she would never use his first name) I would not help him but then he showed me videos of my daughters and a man standing close to them who waved. He threatened to have them killed. Morales also said he’d kill Daniel. I was not aware Daniel was in jail. I worked on the drug but used approaches we followed that had failed. Then, he said that the Cartel had found new confidential research that Actalmar had conducted on Clarity, but never revealed to me. Unbeknown to me, it discovered a way of overcoming the shortcomings of Clarity. The Cartel no longer needed me, but I was not free to go. They treated me well, but mostly left me alone. I didn’t see Morales again until the night Daniel rescued me. I thought of escaping and had even found a Glock which I kept hidden away.”
Daniel gave the back story about Luis contacting him, their trek to the hacienda and how “just as Hector Morales was about to kill me, Rebecca shot him. She saved my life.” He had never pressed her on why she would wear a gun and found it curious and inconsistent with her story. Nor did he press her on any elements of her life at the hacienda. In reality, he didn’t want to know. He was happy she was back and longed to resume their prior life together.
There were many other questions by law enforcement and the media, but Rebecca professed she had virtually no knowledge of the Cartel because they cloistered her in a house near the laboratory and her routine was to work and spend the day alone the guest house. She was fortunate in that the missiles fired on the Cartel members incinerated everything in the hacienda and the guest house. There was no trace of her activities left. After some months, the debriefings, the interviewing and the welcome home parties dwindled and finally ended. Daniel ultimately received two million dollars as a settlement offer on a false imprisonment claim. He probably could have received much more, but never wanted to see the inside of a courtroom again. Rebecca secretly attempted to access the Swiss bank account that Morales said the Cartel established but the computerized message told her that the account number was invalid. She wasn’t particularly surprised.
When the hubbub surrounding them stopped, they focused on resuming the life they once had, but they failed. Doubts about Rebecca’s faithfulness plagued him, despite his attempts to put those thoughts out of his head. Sometimes, in the middle of the night or when he was alone on a morning run, he’d visualize Rebecca in Morales’ arms. Their marriage floundered. The two characteristics of Daniel that Rebecca loved were his sharp sense of humor and his continuing optimism. But now he seemed lackluster, not quite downcast, but not happy either. It was as if he were going through the motions of his life. For a couple who used to have had so much to say to each other, they rarely spoke more than a few sentence
s when alone. At dinner, they had finally given into their iPads as surrogate dining companions.
One day, after a run and when Rebecca felt particularly good and upbeat, she said, “Daniel, let’s go back to Paris. We need to start from square one, and that’s the place to do it.” He agreed. The following week they checked into the Hotel Pavillon de la Reine, at the foot of Place de Vosges where they had stayed many years before. Perhaps it was the separation from their environment, or that Paris is really the city for lovers, but for whatever reason they seemed to come together. Daniel was even beginning to joke and like old lovers reunited they began talking endlessly about everything and everyone, except their past lives.
They finished a four-mile run through the streets of Paris. Hot chocolate in hand, they walked through the Place des Vosges back to their hotel and passed behind a woman who was painting. Several of her canvases were on a nearby bench.
Daniel said, “I know nothing about art, but these are quite good.”
The woman smiled, but did not turn around.
Rebecca added, “Yes, they are. Mlle. Combien sont ces peintures ?”
The woman turned and faced them but was not smiling. She looked enraged. She was so homely that Daniel took a step back. She stood and pointed at Rebecca. In a loud voice that almost sounded like a growl, “You! You ungrateful beast! You killed Hector. How could you, after all he did for you?”
Rebecca was shaking, and said, “Let’s get out of here. The woman is clearly insane” She pulled Daniel away, and he followed. They were not quite out of earshot when he heard, “Don’t believe her. She was Hector’s lover! Ask her about their marriage.”
The day was ruined, and the evening was like it was before they left. They sat at dinner in total silence. Very early the following morning while Rebecca was sleeping, Daniel dressed, took his wallet and passport, and walked to see if he could find the woman. She wasn’t at the bench, but just as he was about to turn back, he saw her at the entry to the park. He ran to her and said, “My name is Daniel Levy. Is what you said about Morales and my wife true? Did they have a relationship?”
“I know who you are, Daniel. Of everyone in this whole sad story, you are the only one who was innocent. And I’m sorry for what happened to you. It was business, you know. Come with me.”
“Where?”
“My apartment. There are a few things I want to show you.”
Judging from her appearance, he half expected a garret, and not the opulent 5000 square foot penthouse which was filled with priceless art. She noticed him looking at the apartment and said, “I’m very rich, Daniel. The apartment is worth about ten million Euros; the furnishing and art is worth about fifty million Euros. Here, sit at the table. She brought over a scrapbook and began showing Daniel key photos. “This is me and my former lover Louisa, This is one of Hector and Rebecca. She looks slightly different here, but that was make- up. We were on a trip to Namibia; a brief vacation.” The photo was a typical selfie. They went through many more photos showing Morales and Rebecca and then the final one of them getting married. “What’s this?” he asked in anger.
“They had a mock wedding. Wait, one last thing. She flipped through her IPhone and sent him a video.”
“What’s this?”
“Their wedding.”
“When he heard them exchange vows, he stopped and said, “Ok. I’ve seen enough. Thanks. Frankly, I suppose it would be appropriate for me to say I’m sorry for your loss, but after what he did to me, well, you know.”
She couldn’t bring herself to tell him she was the architect of the plan to frame him for Rebecca’s murder. He seemed to be a nice and decent man. Alone in her apartment after Daniel had left, Isabella continued looking at the photographs in her scrapbooks and sobbed uncontrollably at the loss of a life she once had. The phone rang several times before she picked it up.
“Oui.”
“Isabella, is that you? Its Chan here, from the Chinese Cartel. Do you think you’d be available to come to Hong Kong to consider a proposition I think you’d find very interesting; a new enterprise, so to speak, and I’d like you to head it up. You’d be supervising about 500 people. I have some business associates who are staying at the Bristol Hotel.”
“What is it?”
“It’s the next Clarity, only ten times better.”
Five days later, Isabella bought a one-way ticket to Hong Kong.
As soon as Daniel walked out of Isabella’s apartment, he hailed a cab and said, “Charles de Gaulle.”
Panicked, Rebecca began calling Daniel every five minutes. Once he arrived at the airport, purchased a ticket on Air France to JFK and was sitting in its first-class lounge, he answered her call, but did not speak.
“Daniel, where are you? I’ve been frantic.”
“I’m flying home. I know all about you and Morales; you were lovers and don’t deny it. Isabella showed me photos of your fucking wedding.”
“He forced me to do it.”
“Really?” Then, sending her the video, said, “How do you explain this?”
She could not reply and after a minute of silence he said, “We’re done,” and hung up.
Two years later, on a beautiful spring day, on the lawn of the Culinary Institute in Hyde Park, Daniel and Miriam were married. Back in their hotel room, as they were opening up their many presents, Miriam said, “This is odd. It’s a gift-wrapped package from Hong Kong, with no return address.”
When they opened up the small package it held an envelope which contained a deed to Isabella’s apartment in Paris and all its furnishings, including the priceless art, together with contact information of the French lawyer handling the transaction. They never learned how Isabella knew about their wedding, though it was quite simple. She tracked him on Facebook. The gift card had three words, “So sorry. Isabella.”
Rebecca After Daniel
Daniel and Rebecca’s divorce was amicable and quick. Daniel told his lawyer, “give her what she wants.” They never told their daughters the real reason they divorced, opting instead to say that they were no longer in love. That seemed to satisfy them. Her daughters had moved to Silicon Valley to find fame and fortune with some startups engaged in forms of internet magic, which was well beyond her comprehension. When told of their plans, she wondered how with all of their efforts at parenting, including giving them art and music lessons and immersing them deeply into the culture of New York City, their daughters, graduates of Hofstra with liberal arts degrees in art and English literature opted for what they called “the technical life,” but it didn’t really matter. It was their right to choose their future. Two years after the divorce, she moved to an elegant condo on Long Island’s North Shore.
Rebecca was unaware when she purchased the condo that the building was nicknamed the “Singles House,” because so many widows, widowers and divorcees populated it. Many sought her out but, by and large, she preferred to be alone. Sitting on a window seat by her bay window and looking at the activities three stories below, Rebecca would from time to time drift off to memories not of Daniel, but of Morales. With increasing frequency, she relived the moment that she shot Morales. She began second guessing herself. Should she have killed Morales? Maybe she should have just told Daniel to go home. What would her life be like had she done that? Once, when day was giving way to evening and as she sat looking out of her window, Rebecca had a recollection, something she hadn’t thought about for many years. It was odd, Rebecca thought, that this specific recollection just popped into her head with no provocation. The recollection was so vivid that it was almost as if she was seeing it in HD.
They were in Botswana and making love beneath a sky so full of stars it was unlike anything they had ever seen. Far in the distance they heard the faint roar of lions, which sounded more like background music than anything else. Morales stopped and said, “You know the first time that I met you at the pool and when we kissed, I knew that I loved you. I’ve always thought of that as a perfect moment. They’
re rare, but I think right now, the two of us under this beautiful sky away from the Cartel, away from everyone and everything, is another perfect moment. What do you think?”
She recalled that she never answered him directly, opting instead to continue making love. Gazing out her window without specific focus, she thought to herself, “I suppose he was right.”
—The End—