The First Horseman

by John Case

  More impressive were the labs. These were an interconnected complex of hypermodern glass and steel structures that housed the compound’s infirmary, food hall, administration offices, research laboratories, and production facilities. It was from here that the Temple ran its international operations, while manufacturing a mix of vitamins, homeopathic remedies, and aromatherapy products.

  At the top of the hill, in full surveillance of the dormitories and the labs, was the Headmaster’s House, an immaculately restored Tudor mansion with mullioned windows, surrounded by vine-clad pergolas. This, then, was Solange’s residence, and the Temple’s inner sanctum.

  Sitting on the flagstone terrace under a canopy of pink wisteria, Susannah gazed at the surrounding mountains and wished her nervousness would go away. The problem was, she didn’t know why she was here. And this made her nervous, because there were stories about the terrace and things that happened there.

  But that’s all they were, she told herself, stories.

  The truth was, being summoned to the Temple’s headquarters was almost always a good thing. Solange sometimes arranged marriages among the staff and when he did, the announcements were always made on the terrace. So, also, it was on the terrace that rewards were handed out, and special tasks assigned. Which, Susannah thought, was the reason she was there – for something good. And, after all, what else could it be? She’d done everything she’d been asked to do – in Rhinebeck, L.A., and Washington – and everything had gone off without a hitch. On the other hand, so had Tommy and Vaughn and everyone else. So why was she the only one who’d been asked to come to the compound? Why was she the only one on the operations team sitting on the terrace?

  Shyly, because little Stephen was feeding at her breast, she looked up at Solange, who was questioning Belinda about a defector.

  ‘So how did you find him?’

  ‘The P.I.s found him. He was in a motel somewhere, and I guess he made a mistake.’

  ‘And what was that?’

  ‘He phoned home. They always phone home. Just like E.T.’

  Solange nodded, happy with the reply. ‘And Kramer had the phones covered?’

  Belinda nodded. ‘There’s a phone-phreak he works with. I think he put something on the line, or maybe he hacked the Caller ID. Anyway, they found him in a Motel 6 on the Jersey shore.’

  ‘And where is he now?’ Solange asked, referring to the defector.

  Belinda tossed her head in the direction of the labs. ‘Infirmary. Doc’s got him stoned to the gills on Halcion and Thorazine – so it’s not like he’s talking to anybody. If you want to talk to him, they’ll have to bring him down.’

  Solange shook his head. ‘No, just keep him that way.’

  He’s so cool, Susannah thought. He stands there with his head tilted back and his eyes half closed, like a jazz musician listening to someone else’s solo. And then, when he moves, it’s on the balls of his feet, like a quarterback dropping back into the pocket.

  He’s like a cat, Susannah thought. But not a tabby.

  Solange was just over six feet tall, and lean as a snake. He wore faded jeans and hiking boots, and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. A dark stubble peppered his cheeks, and his ink-black hair needed cutting. Agate eyes under thick brows, flecked with gray.

  The eyes have it, Susannah thought, making a joke (but not really). That’s where his power comes from – it’s not what he says, but the way he looks at you when he says it, as if to say, You’re the only one who understands, the only one who really understands. And when you heard that, or saw it, or sensed it, well, it was almost like falling in love.

  Which wouldn’t be hard. Solange was the most attractive man Susannah had ever seen – not that he was handsome, really. Not in the ordinary sense of the word. He was saved from being ‘handsome’ by his nose, which had long ago been broken, and never reset. The result was an eagle’s beak that, with his eyes, gave his face a predatory cast, even when he was laughing.

  And there was the Voice. As deep as a mine, it was lightly accented and cadenced in a way that was strangely compelling. Watching him talk, listening to him speak, feeling him with her eyes, Susannah knew that she was in the presence of a great man. Or a swarm of great men. At one time or another, the newspapers had compared him to Hitler and the Pied Piper, John Muir and Koot Houmi (whoever that was – she meant to look it up).

  And the others shared her feelings. Like her, they were enraptured by Solange (and just a little afraid of him).

  There were fifteen of them on the terrace, in addition to little Stephen, Susannah, and their guru. Each of them was ‘on staff’ which meant that they lived their lives entirely within the orbit of the organization. At one time or another, all of them had sailed on the Crystal Dragon, and since then, they’d shared meals and beds, safe houses and codes, secrets and felonies. They were full-time communards, and they were everything to one another – family, lovers, shipmates, friends. They had no one but themselves, and no possessions but those that they held in common. Even their pasts were not their own, for each of them shared the same symbolic birthday – which was the date they’d come ‘on staff.’

  While her baby sucked at her breast, Susannah’s eyes drifted from one person to another. With the exception of herself and one other person, she saw, each of them was a divisional director, or a deputy.

  Within the Temple, these people were legends, and Susannah knew almost all of them. The emaciated man with tobacco-stained fingers was Saul, who ran the division in which she herself worked, the Office of Special Affairs. Sitting on either side of him were his deputies – Antonio, Belinda, and Jane – who were in charge of Research, Operations, and Security.

  Veroushka, who was said to be Solange’s mistress and who was so sexy that Tommy said he could ‘smell her across the room,’ was responsible for Recruitment.

  In addition to Veroushka and the Special Affairs crew, there were the directors and deputy directors of Banking and Communications, as well as the heads of administration, Technical Services, and Litigation. Susannah knew who they were, but not their names, or not all of them, anyway.

  And there was one person she didn’t know at all, a Jap or something, who clearly didn’t belong. Dressed in a dark suit, white shirt and tie, he stood apart from the others, silently observing.

  ‘What about the parents?’ Solange asked.

  Belinda turned to a weedy young man who was sitting nearby with his back against the wall, looking bored. ‘Fred?’

  ‘They know he’s here,’ the lawyer said, ‘but there’s nothing they can do about it. He doesn’t have to see them, he doesn’t have to talk to them. He’s twenty-three. Besides, I’ve got an affidavit from him, saying everything’s fine – or I will, anyway, as soon as I can get it typed up.’

  ‘And you think he’ll sign that?’

  ‘He signed it five years ago, when he came on staff. Everybody signed one. More than one! Now, we just have to fill in the date and decide what it says.’

  ‘Okay!’ Solange said, clapping his hands together and turning on his heel. ‘Who’s next? Avram! What can you tell us?’

  The chief of the Temple’s Technical Services division was a wall-eyed Russian refugee with a bad case of psoriasis. Cleaning his bifocals with the hem of his shirt, he cleared his throat and glanced myopically in Solange’s direction. Then he smiled. ‘We’re ready to go,’ he said.

  Solange regarded him with surprise. ‘You’re kidding.’

  ‘No. Though, if you don’t mind, I must tell you: this was not an easy thing. We’ve worked around the clock for nearly eight months – on this and nothing else. We’ve had temperature problems. We’ve had problems of competence and discipline with one or two of the staff. And the vaccine!’ He paused and peered at each of the people on the terrace. ‘Do you have any idea how hard it is to buy twenty thousand fertilized eggs without attracting attention from the FDA?’

  Solange and the others laughed, and Avram smiled.
<
br />   ‘But . . . yes!’ he concluded. ‘We can begin vaccinating tomorrow. Whenever you like.’

  Solange closed his eyes for a moment. ‘And the Lady?’ he asked.

  Avram returned the glasses to his nose and blinked twice as his eyes snapped into focus. ‘The Lady is stronger than ever,’ he said. ‘And replicating nicely.’

  ‘You say she’s “stronger than ever.” This is a theory you have.’

  Avram shook his head. ‘No. This is a fact.’

  ‘But how can you know that?’

  ‘Because we’ve run tests – not in the field, but in the lab. And they’re consistent. We’ve amplified the mortality rate by a factor of five.’

  ‘How?’

  Avram cocked his head and peered at Solange. ‘You want a technical explanation?’

  ‘Just tell me,’ Solange ordered.

  Avram shrugged. ‘We mapped the genome in October. Ever since then, we’ve been trying to find a way to – how should I say it? – a way to stealth the virus so it’s invisible, or almost invisible, to the immune system.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘We succeeded.’

  ‘But how?’

  Avram sighed, proud of his accomplishment but resenting the need to explain it to laymen. ‘Trial and error,’ he said. ‘We found that by removing a particular segment of DNA, we could make the virus secrete a material that masks its immunogens, hiding it from the body’s B-cells. It’s like the virus is coated in Teflon. The sialic acid receptors can’t bond to it, and without that happening, there’s no immune response. So half the time, the virus proceeds unchecked.’

  ‘Which makes the mortality rate –’

  ‘About fifty-five percent.’

  No one said anything for a long moment. Finally, Solange exclaimed, ‘Okay! So we begin vaccinating tomorrow. Everyone in the compound, eh?’

  Avram nodded. ‘I’ll arrange it,’ he said.

  Solange tossed his head, flicking the hair out of his eyes. ‘And Mr. Kim?’ he asked, putting his hands together in a prayerful gesture and bowing toward the Asian man with exaggerated ceremony.

  ‘I can have a package for him in two days,’ Avram replied, scratching his neck.

  ‘Okay,’ Solange said with a wild grin. ‘Is that okay with you, Mr. Kim?’

  The Korean looked at him blankly, not understanding a word.

  ‘Two days,’ Solange said, speaking slowly and holding two fingers in the air. ‘Then . . .’ His hand dipped, and soared. ‘Pyongyang.’

  Kim smiled his understanding and nodded happily.

  Veroushka raised a hand, and Solange acknowledged her. ‘What about the people we have abroad?’ she asked. ‘I’ve got recruiters in Russia, Israel, France – one or two other places. I’m talking about staff people. What do we do? Do we bring them home?’

  Before Solange could say anything, Belinda answered her. ‘It’s cheaper if we go to them. If you’ll get me a list of who’s where, I can have a courier in the air – same day. We can get them all vaccinated within a week.’

  Veroushka frowned. ‘I was thinking . . . maybe we should bring them home. I mean, how will you get through Customs?’

  ‘We’ll get a notarized letter for the courier, saying she has diabetes,’ Belinda replied. ‘We’ll put the vaccine in insulin ampoules. I don’t think anyone will bother her.’

  ‘Okay,’ Solange said, ‘let’s go to the next item on the agenda.’ With a smile, he turned toward Susannah and held out his hand for her to get up. ‘Susannah?’

  She thought her heart would stop. Little Stephen pulled his head away from her breast and, for a moment, it seemed as if he were about to cry. Handing him to Belinda, she got to her feet and adjusted her blouse.

  ‘My God, you’re something!’ Solange said. ‘Look at you! You’re beautiful.’

  Susannah’s cheeks burned and she lowered her eyes.

  ‘Saul – why didn’t you tell me she looked like this, eh? What do I have an intelligence service for, if you keep secrets like this from me?’ He put his left arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him.

  ‘I sent you the reports,’ Saul said with a smile. ‘Belinda signed off on them.’

  ‘Okay,’ Solange said. ‘But reports – next time, I want a picture, too. But listen: I’ve read the reports, and I know what she’s done. And I tell you, I’m going to change this girl’s name to “Bond.” Okay?! Susannah Bond. Is that okay with you, cher?’

  Susannah nodded, embarrassed by all the eyes that were on her, and thrilled to have Solange’s arm around her.

  ‘I’m telling you,’ he went on, with his soft accent, ‘this girl has no holdback. If I told you what she’s done, I’d have to kill you!’ He laughed, and the others joined in. ‘I’m not kidding. It scares even me!’

  More laughter.

  ‘But . . .’ He threw the word into the air like a grenade. ‘There is a problem.’

  Susannah’s heart stopped for the second time in as many minutes. ‘Wh-What problem?’ she asked, looking up at Solange.

  He shook his head regretfully. ‘The little boy,’ he said.

  Suddenly, Susannah knew why she was there, knew what was wrong, knew what she’d done. When you joined the Temple, you gave up having children because people were . . . what was the word Solange used? Meta-sizing! They were metasizing all over the world. Like roaches. And this was the biggest problem, but . . . ‘But –’

  ‘Sshhhh!’ Solange whispered, and pulled her to him even more tightly. She hadn’t realized how strong he was. ‘No excuses. I told you, cher: you’re a hero! You’ll always be a hero – so don’t fuck it up with a lot of bullshit. Okay?’

  She nodded.

  Removing his arm from around her shoulders, he walked over to a sort of wood box that Susannah hadn’t noticed before. Lifting its lid, he reached inside and withdrew a handful of transparent, plastic garbage bags. One by one he passed them out to the people sitting on the terrace.

  Without thinking, Susannah reached for a bag, but Solange shook his head. ‘Not for you, cher. For them.’

  Crossing the flagstones to Belinda, he lifted Stephen by the arm, shook out one of the bags, and put the baby inside. Then he spun the bag in his hand and knotted it off at the top. ‘Take it,’ he said, and gave it to Belinda.

  Susannah couldn’t believe it. She was speechless as Stephen’s muffled cries seeped through the bag. She could see him in there, thrashing around, raising the temperature, turning the bag’s transparent skin opaque. Her knees buckled, but Solange caught her by the arm and steadied her.

  ‘You have to be strong,’ he said. ‘For the little boy – it’s important, cher.’ Then he turned to the others. ‘Okay,’ Solange said. ‘Everyone except Susannah and Mr. Kim.’

  One by one her friends put their heads into the plastic bags and tied them off at the throat. Horrified, Susannah watched the bags puff in and out, contracting around their cheeks and noses, then pushing out again.

  Solange returned to the wood box and reached inside a second time, returning with two pairs of boxing gloves. Tossing a pair to Susannah, he gestured for her to put them on, and did the same himself.

  ‘It’s a complicated problem,’ Solange said as he worked his hands into the gloves. ‘Earth, she is the mother – sacred. Just as life is. This is our religion. This is what we know. But we know, too, that we’re killing her – you and me – we’re killing her, and we’re killing her children – the millions of species she generates. (Don’t worry about making a knot, cher. Just get your hands in them.) We’ve punched holes in the atmosphere, poisoned the groundwater, fouled the soil, laid waste to the forests. Now, with these bags, maybe you can understand how the earth feels, what it’s like to be smothered in plastic, choking on your own gases. Now, when I tell you civilization is murder, maybe you will remember this.’ Solange clapped his hands together and shuffled his feet.

  ‘Is it okay to let Stephen out?’ Susannah asked. ‘I don’t think this is so good for him.’

&
nbsp; ‘But, cher, that’s just the point. I don’t think he’s so good for us, do you? Hey – you know as well as I do, what is the problem? It’s population, eh? We’re too many. And yet, you give us another predator to feed. What were you thinking about? What were you thinking with?’

  Susannah shook her head. Solange was between her and Stephen now, and she couldn’t see him.

  ‘If it were anyone else, cher, I’d drown him like a baby cat. As an example. But he’s yours, so I tell you what we’ll do: we’ll box for him! One round. Three minutes. And if you’re standing at the end of that, you can rescue him, cher, okay? But if you are not, well, then, I think he stays where he is.’

  ‘But – I can’t. I don’t know how!’ The panic was surging in her chest.

  ‘I’ll teach you. The important thing is to get going, you know? Because until then it’s just a waste of time, eh?’

  Susannah nodded.

  ‘Okay, so now we start. A little punch. C’mon, cher, it’s like you said. I don’t think this is so good for him.’

  She jabbed at him, and Solange stepped gracefully to the side, eyeing his wristwatch. ‘Okay, the liftoff. But maybe not so good. Punch through me, cher not at me! C’mon!’

  She knew how to fight. She’d grown up with three brothers, and one of them had been a bully. But she couldn’t concentrate on Solange. It was taking all her strength not to rush over to Belinda and –

  Stars! Suddenly, she saw stars. Solange snapped her head back with a left jab, then rocked her with a right cross that sent a stream of little lights across her eye. She staggered backward, disbelieving. Her brother had never hit her like that.

  ‘Keep your hands up, cher, and close on me. I have too much reach for you. C’mon! You have to think. Get inside my arms.’

  She could taste the blood in her mouth, and her eyes stung with tears. What did he say? About standing? About being on her feet? About Stephen?

  Solange threw a left that she took on the shoulder, and then a right that she avoided, jumping back. ‘Good! Two minutes now!’

  He said he’d leave him where he was. He said he’d leave him in the bag.