While Angie had been using the restroom back at the outfitters, he had quickly made a purchase, which he had hidden inside one of the packs.
She returned, scrubbed raw, in her pajama shorts and a fresh T-shirt. Her feet were bare. Colin had also dressed for dinner.
He chose this moment to reveal his surprise.
“You brought wine,” she squealed.
He smiled modestly, “They sold some at the outfitters.”
It was a relief to find that the cooking supplies included a corkscrew.
The plastic cups would have to do. He poured the wine.
They toasted the lake and each other and bacon and eggs. Then they toasted Ruby Tugdale.
They planned to sit late into the night and sip their wine and watch the stars and listen for the wailing of evening loons and good-naturedly lie to themselves and to each other about what they would do after they had finished their journey.
They got as far as their first cupful, agreeing that tomorrow they would take a day trip. They would pack enough food for two meals in one of the refrigerated bags with the last of the meat and cheese. It would go much faster without the two full packs to manhandle.
They both loved this campsite. They would come back late tomorrow night and sleep and then get up the next day and head back. It occurred to them that they might not have enough time to do it all. They hoped to find Alfred Fisher. But what would happen if and when they did find him? They didn’t know. They did know that, in a million different ways, things might go badly. At the very least, it was possible that they may not make it back to Lauder Lake as scheduled. Was there a penalty if you arrived late? Surely, they would not be the first campers to misjudge the time needed to journey back.
It was important to find Alfred Fisher. They already knew exactly which lake he liked to frequent, so it was a gamble with acceptable odds.
This was as far as they got with planning and talking and lying.
They were both too exhausted. Tomorrow, they would start early.
CONCLUSION
Their next day blurred into walking and rowing and sun and water and mud and flies.
By the midpoint in the afternoon, Colin and Angie had finished a final, long desolate portage out of Gregory Lake. They stood on the eastern side of the last lake of the day. This was what they intended would be the northernmost point of their trip.
There were only two campsites on the lake. One was directly across from them; a pretty location on the side of a rock bluff. Angie had better eyesight, and she could make out a wooden structure on the edge of the water. It had the appearance of driftwood piled up high. She thought an intended beach fire, although the construction appeared too deliberate and permanent.
There was no sign of campers. The wind had stiffened and was blowing from the north. The lake was wide.
The map indicated another campsite close to the portage into the lake from the southern end. It wasn’t visible from where they stood. It was a shorter canoe, and the prevailing wind would be in their favor.
Colin spoke for both of them.
“Fisher might not even use a campsite.”
“I agree,” Angie said. “But we should check them.”
“Do we try the southern one first?”
She considered, “It’s the easier canoe. And once we get there, the wind might change for us.”
“Which one would you stay at?”
She smiled, “That’s easy. The one straight across. I think I can even see a beach.”
“That’s a hard paddle across.”
“I know. And we’re tired. If we go south first, the paddle up the western side might be easier. We can keep to the shore and be out of the wind. Come on. Let’s get going.”
Did it seem as if their decision had been made too quickly?
They both considered that possibility as they paddled south. A few minutes later they could see the southern campsite. It didn’t look promising.
The canoe was much lighter and easier to maneuver with just the two of them. As the wind pushed at their backs, Colin and Angie found they barely had to paddle. Colin told himself that the next time they came here, he would take a tarp and some rope and their two paddles. He could fashion a makeshift sail, and they would use the wind to propel them. He could do it. He had sailed before. He understood the general concept.
It was a fine day, and Angie was laughing. Her voice carried far across the water.
It was no great surprise that the southern campsite turned out to be an ugly place; low and flat and marshy, under a dark suffocation of trees. The lake breezes deadened. There was a thunderbox situated at the end of a path. There was toilet paper, but the walk to the facilities smelled strongly of death and decay. Colin would have preferred to wait, but his twisting innards argued.
Angie was left to explore the site, which she determined was not occupied. She thought it might have been recently. She already disliked the place, and she resolved to leave this lake the way they had entered it, through the portage on the eastern side, strong and unforgiving wind or otherwise.
She bent down to touch the scattering of ashes in the firepit. As she stood up she stretched her arms as high as she could.
The high-powered hunting rifle was a deadly weapon that required only one clean shot. And when it came, Angie Rennie’s heart exploded.
She was dead before she hit the ground.
Colin heard the shot as he stood up. He ran back as fast as he could. He reached her and he fell to his knees. He lifted her up by the shoulders and held her tightly. When he looked at her face, she was still smiling. There was dirt on her cheek. Blood was soaking out through her shirt as Colin began to sob.
He was still holding her when he heard the voice. It was very close.
“I’m afraid your friend ran out of warnings, Mr. Tugdale.” The voice betrayed no emotion.
Colin looked up at the sound to see a man carrying a rifle balanced in both hands, making his way slowly through the trees. As the man got closer, Colin recognized Alfred Fisher.
Fisher spoke again, “You should sit down and make yourself more comfortable Mr. Tugdale.”
Colin looked wildly around. He could run away. He could run to the canoe. He could run into the woods. And he would be shot in the back whichever way he chose. Or he could attack Fisher. The man was holding the weapon loosely. But then Colin thought he saw Fisher’s hands tighten.
Colin would be too slow. Whatever he did. He would die in the woods. He would die in the woods with Angie. He looked down at her. She was still bundled in his arms. He was soaked in her blood. He tried to think.
Colin looked up at the man as he sat down. Alfred Fisher wore thick olive trousers and an outfitter T-shirt that hung loosely on his thin frame. His hair was trimmed short and was mostly gray. He wore heavy boots. While he looked to be about Colin’s age, there was something about him that seemed much older. They were both fifty-five and they were both not fifty-five. But Alfred Fisher was more not fifty-five than Colin.
“You will be happy to know that she felt nothing, Colin.”
Breaking his silence, Colin asked, “How do you know me?”
“The foundation has been watching you both for a while.” Fisher seemed happy to be in a conversation.
“Why did you kill her?” There was no emotion in Colin’s voice.
“She was stubborn and much too resourceful to be allowed to live.”
“Will you kill me?”
Fisher seemed surprised at the question, but said, “Almost certainly.”
“So, why don’t you?”
When Fisher smiled, Colin saw his soiled and uneven teeth.
“That can wait a while. I thought that Ms. Rennie was the more dangerous one. But you might also pose a danger.”
Colin fell into silence again.
When Fisher spoke again his tone was expansive.
“I must say I’m a little surprised that you don’t want to know who I am?”
Colin answer
ed dismissively, “I know who you are. You’re Alfred Fisher. You own the outfitters. And you’re a member of the foundation.”
Fisher pretended an air of vagueness. “Very good. All mostly true. I run the foundation. But forgive me. I should’ve been clearer. Don’t you want to know who I was?”
“I don’t understand you.”
“I used to be quite famous, Mr. Tugdale. They called me the Weld Wizard. I’m Sir Julian Brand.”
“Brand died,” Colin said harshly.
He laughed, “Oh, I can assure you, I did not.”
“Then you welded,” Colin said.
“I did a little better than that,” Alfred Fisher/Julian Brand smiled. Then he continued, “I suggest you lay your friend on the ground, Mr. Tugdale. She’s not going anywhere. Sit for a while, and we can talk. Then you can try to escape, and I can kill you. It’s funny. I was sure that she was the real danger. But now that I consider it, I don’t think Ms. Rennie would have ever gone to the authorities. She was a very clever criminal. But a criminal all the same. She needed to stay hidden. You, on the other hand, Mr. Tugdale, have so much less to lose. Your time is almost up. Your lovely wife has already concluded. You have lived most of your All Clear Twenty. A good life, wouldn’t you say? A clever and wealthy son. But maybe I’m still wrong. Do you want to live a little longer?”
Colin said nothing.
Brand looked at him. “Colin? May I call you Colin? You do want to live. I can see that now. You’re watching me carefully. You see that I have the rifle. You could attack me, if you were quick. And you look quick. You might have a chance. But I don’t think you want to risk it. You have no wife, no partner, and less than two years left. But you still don’t want to die. Remarkable. I almost want to let you live. And I could let you live. I could even let you live longer. A lot longer. But no, you are going to die. It might be quick, and it might be cruel. It might be a little more sporting. But first, you must have lots of questions, and I feel like talking.”
Colin calculated. It would do no harm to talk. It would buy him time to think and plan, and it would be instructional. He took a good look at Brand’s rifle. It looked modern. It had a telescopic sight attached. It looked deadly.
“What happened to you?” Colin asked.
Brand barked out a laugh. “Ah,” he said. “The big question. Are we stalling for time? And why not?” He pretended to ponder. “Where to begin?”
Colin waited and watched.
“We created the scan and the weld, as you know. And then we, or rather I, decided to give the technology away. To every king and queen and prince and president. We offered it free. No questions asked.”
“And they took it?” Colin asked.
Brand snorted, “They did, indeed. Naturally they took it. Why on earth wouldn’t they? There was just one tiny proviso.”
“Which was?”
“I was to be left alone. Guaranteed. In writing. A binding contract. To last for as long as I lived. And that was the genius part of the whole caper.”
“They all signed.”
He nodded. “Every last tyrant and tin-pot dictator. They each got free access to the weld. The Geneweld Mark One, that is.”
“Mark One?”
“I have a question for you. Other than tinkering with computer games with your son, how much actual science do you know, Mr. Tugdale?”
“Almost none.”
“Then let me give you the potted version. The first version of the weld lasts twenty years. The All Clear Twenty. You are about one year short at this point. You would agree that it has worked as planned. Your scan was clean. You were offered a settlement. You were lucky to live where you live. Your government paid you well. Your health has been perfect. If you do nothing, you will die. And that is exactly what is supposed to happen with Mark One.”
Brand paused and shook his head.
Then he continued, “All the governments wanted to come up with their own timeframes when I first offered the weld. But I told them that the twenty years was not negotiable. There would be a two-decade window of healthy life and then death. I told them that this was how the weld worked. I said I had no control over this. I told them I was sorry if that was inconvenient. They grumbled, but not for long. How could they turn down my offer? Perfect health for two decades? When they stopped grumbling, they asked my opinion on the matter of when to weld. I told them that fifty-five seemed like a good idea to me. They went along with that.”
“Which part was a lie?” Colin wanted to know.
“Not so much a lie. The truth was that the weld I provided them with does last twenty years.”
“And you got to play God with them.”
“Of course I did, Mr. Tugdale. Who wouldn’t want to play God if they could?”
Colin said nothing.
“And then I got to keep right on playing God.”
“You welded yourself,” Colin said.
“Naturally.”
“How many years did you give yourself?”
“I gave myself the Geneweld Mark Two. I have all the time in the world.”
“Who else has Mark Two?” Colin asked.
Brand seemed surprised at the question. “At first, no one else. Just me.”
“Weren’t you worried that you would get old and lonely?”
“Oh no,” Brand grinned. “I think not. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of the Brand? I thought of the name myself,” Brand said. “Clever of me. Don’t you think?”
He received no comment. He continued.
“You will like this part, I think. You and your son, Tony. You helped him create a fiendishly clever computer game. Very popular, too, as I understand.”
Again, Colin said nothing.
“I created a second version of the weld. Mark Two. This is what I called the Brand.”
“What does it do?”
“Oh, nothing much, Colin. It works very much like the weld. With one critical difference. The Brand lasts forever. There is no All Clear Twenty. There is only perfect health forever for those lucky enough to be Branded.”
Colin asked a question to which he already knew the answer: “You’ve Branded others?”
Brand grew expansive. “There are people, Mr. Tugdale, that I have come to know. We find ourselves in accord on many of the important issues. They have come to be my friends. They share my views. They have come to me, and I have Branded them. They will now live with me forever.”
“How do you know you can trust them?”
“That’s easy. I mentioned you and your son. My fiendishly clever computer game is an implant that resides in their bodies. I planted it there. When I Branded them. If they disappoint me, they will die with a simple computer command.”
Colin could think of nothing to say.
Brand burst out laughing, “Does it not sound wonderful? And all very James Bond in the bargain. Don’t you think?” He continued to laugh.
“And you Branded them? Just like you Branded yourself?”
Brand stopped laughing. He smiled.
“And why on earth would I not?”
“How many?”
“There are currently twenty-four of my Brands out there. No, there are twenty-three. I always forget about Devine. Did you notice a nasty smell near the privy?”
Colin slowly nodded.
“And you and Ms. Rennie were anxious to locate Mr. Elliot Devine.”
Colin nodded again.
“I’m afraid he’s the source of the smell. He is in the process of returning to nature. Of giving back. Of personally recycling.”
“You killed him.”
“I prefer to think I revoked his opportunity to live forever.”
“You shot him?”
“You know, I really did consider using the plant inside him. But no. You’re right. Shooting him was more fun.”
“What did he do wrong?”
“He wasn’t able to give the foundation all his money. As he had promised. His greedy crew of women saw to that. He fai
led miserably at living in hiding. As you can attest. But the error was also mine. Devine loved aspects of nature, but he wasn’t a true naturalist. There is a difference. I wanted financial security for the foundation. I took a stupid chance. I’m afraid that Mr. Devine wasn’t our type.”
“What is your type?”
“I’m surprised you have to ask. You and Ms. Rennie visited our website when you weren’t trying to sneak your way into our financial records. We believe in a natural boundary.”
“What does that mean? Your website says nothing.”
“That is as intended. Our website is for the casual observer. Our membership exists much deeper in the web. We believe that nature is the only thing that endures. We believe that our form of naturalism is the preordained order of things. The preordained order of things is for men like me and my chosen friends to rule the world. Which we will do, someday. We are superior, and our superiority is now plainly manifest in our ability to live forever. We will pick our moment to rule. There is no hurry.”
“Are all the Brands white men?”
“They are,” he smiled.
“You disappeared a long time ago.”
“That part was easy. I always loved camping. So, one day I went camping. And the next day, I vanished. Simple as that. Presumed dead. Of course, I wasn’t dead. I came up here. I started the outfitter business. It’s done quite well. Pays for itself. I love it here. We have the tourists all summer, but the winter months belong to me. Marvelous country. Wouldn’t go anywhere else. I live a pretty private life. I can hide up here for long spells. I’ve changed my appearance a little. Nothing too drastic. There is one thing that makes me hard to recognize.”
“The teeth?”
“Yes! Very good. Lucky old Sir Julian had the finest set of gnashers, and now I have to endure these monstrosities. But somehow, they manage to hide me in plain sight. Who would’ve thought?”
“What happened to Angie’s Parkinson’s?”
“Excellent question. There are a number of unexplained outcomes of the weld. One unfortunate aspect is its ability to cure Parkinson’s in black people.”
“Why is that unfortunate? Why doesn’t the world know about this? It would stop suffering.”
Conclusion Page 16