The Iron Ring

by Matty Dalrymple

  Philip had slept for most of the day and a half since he had arrived at Theo Viklund’s home. An attractive young woman named Elsa—as blond-haired and blue-eyed as the young man who had picked him up at the hospital—arrived periodically with meals that were all of a theme Philip thought of as Gourmet Mexican. Under the assumption that Mortensen’s lackies had slipped him a drug in Sedona, Philip at first thought he should avoid eating or drinking anything, but that wasn’t a sustainable plan. If Viklund really wanted to give him a drug, Philip suspected there wasn’t much he could do to stop it. And although he wasn’t a huge fan of Mexican, gourmet or not, it was better than hospital food—and certainly better than prison food.

  Despite the stress of not knowing what was going on, Philip found Viklund’s home more restful than the hospital. It was quiet, the room was comfortable, and he wasn’t continuously disturbed by people taking his temperature or checking his pulse.

  In the evening, Elsa appeared with an invitation for Philip to dine with Theo Viklund.

  She led him through the twists and turns of the corridors to a dining room that was a somewhat larger and more elegant version of Philip’s bedroom—or of his office waiting room back in Sedona, for that matter: Navajo rugs in a variety of patterns hung on paneled walls and covered the floor, a pair of elaborate, and likely antique, kachina dolls stood on a sideboard of rough wood, and a rustic table with an Equipale chair on either side anchored the room.

  “Please help yourself to a beverage,” said Elsa, gesturing toward the sideboard. “Herr Viklund will be with you shortly.” She stepped into the hall and closed the doors behind her. Philip heard the familiar click of a lock.

  He went to the sideboard and was both amused and irritated to see, among bottles of wine and liquor, a bottle of Knob Creek bourbon. Viklund had certainly done his homework. If Andy McNally’s guess was right about what had happened to Philip in Sedona, the beautiful woman who had lured him out of the Cowboy Club had likely drugged the shot of Knob Creek she had poured for him. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and made a circuit of the room, examining the decor.

  He turned toward the doors when he heard the click of the lock being disengaged, and Theo Viklund stepped through and crossed to him, hand extended.

  “Mr. Castillo, I hope the rest has speeded your recovery? No cane, I see.”

  After a brief hesitation, Philip shook Viklund’s hand. “Much better, thanks.” He gestured to the decor. “You’ve got quite a collection here.”

  Viklund strolled to the sideboard, dropped an ice cube from a bucket into a crystal tumbler, and poured himself a shot of bourbon. “I’m fascinated by Southwestern American culture, and specifically by Native American culture.” He raised the bottle toward Philip with raised eyebrows.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Is there something else I could get you?”

  Philip picked up a bottle of water from the sideboard and twisted off the cap.

  Viklund returned the bottle of bourbon to the table and raised his glass.

  “Skål.”

  Philip raised his bottle and they drank, then Viklund gestured him to one of the chairs at the table.

  “So,” Viklund asked when they were seated, “are you Native American?”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “You could perhaps answer some questions about the Navajo rugs for me.”

  “You should ask an expert. I wouldn’t want to give you a bum steer.”

  “Quite right,” said Viklund.

  “It’s interesting that this room is decorated in a way you might assume would be appealing to me. Same with the room I’m staying in, and the food you’re serving me. And you don’t strike me as a guy who would normally be serving Mexican food or decorating with kachina dolls.”

  Viklund smiled. “Why else would I do those things if not because I enjoyed them?”

  “To make me feel comfortable.”

  “But that is the goal of every good host, is it not?”

  “Not to the extent of redecorating rooms.”

  Viklund shrugged. “I have the resources. It is a bit of a hobby for me.”

  “Why would you go to all this trouble? For that matter, why would you spring me from the hospital, at the risk of attracting the attention of the police?”

  Viklund waved his hand. “Any such attention can easily be dealt with.”

  “How?”

  “As you asked before, why does it matter?”

  “Because when someone does me such a big favor, I like to know why. And what they might expect in return.”

  “I admire your caution, Mr. Castillo. Perhaps it was only to obtain your views on Native American material culture.”

  Philip raised an eyebrow.

  There was a knock on the door and Viklund called, “Come in.”

  Elsa opened the door and an older, stouter, but similarly Scandinavian-looking woman stepped in, carrying a tray filled with plates and bowls. Philip could smell chili powder. She stepped up to the table and Elsa lifted two bowls from the tray, but Viklund held up his hand.

  “I think perhaps Mr. Castillo has had enough of that cuisine for now.” He turned to Philip. “Is there some other type of food that you would enjoy?”

  “Pretty much anything else.”

  Viklund laughed. “Of course.” He turned toward the women. “Agnes, please bring us pretty much anything else.”

  She nodded expressionlessly and carried the tray out of the room, followed by Elsa, who closed the door behind them.

  Viklund took a sip of bourbon. “Your time in the hospital must have been quite stressful.”

  “I don’t imagine anyone enjoys being in the hospital.”

  “Especially if you were concerned that your next stop might be prison.”

  Philip was silent.

  “Your conviction and imprisonment as a teenager seemed quite unfair. It must have left you with a distrust of the legal system.”

  “I don’t imagine anyone totally trusts the legal system.”

  “And the name change from Casal to Castillo suggests that you’re intent on leaving that part of your life behind.”

  “You don’t expect me to make this any easier for you than it evidently already is by answering your questions, do you?”

  Viklund shook his head. “No, of course not. I must remember my goal of being a good host. Let’s speak no more of that for now.”

  Viklund regaled Philip with some background of the Southwestern decor. He may have gotten it to appeal to Philip, but he seemed knowledgeable about the significance of the dolls and the manufacturing process of the rugs—far more so than Philip himself.

  Eventually Agnes and Elsa returned with the replacement dinner—bowls of yellow pea soup, crusty bread and salads—and an accompanying bottle of wine. Viklund uncorked the wine as Agnes served the meal. He poured for himself and Philip and raised his glass.

  “To finding common ground,” said Viklund.

  Philip watched as he drank, then raised his own glass and took a sip.

  Agnes and Elsa retired, Viklund resumed his seat, and the conversation continued, this time focused on Arizona itself—the mountains and desert, the flora and fauna. Viklund claimed never to have been there but was as well informed about it as he had been about the rugs and kachina dolls. Viklund paused periodically, providing openings for Philip to engage in the conversation more actively, but when Philip remained silent, he continued the monologue, seemingly unperturbed.

  Eventually Agnes and Elsa returned again—Agnes to clear the table, and Elsa to serve dessert: rhubarb cake and espresso.

  Philip drained the small cup as Agnes and Elsa withdrew.

  “Maybe we should talk less about where I’m from, and more about where you’re from,” he said.

  “I’ve been here so long, I feel like a native.”

  “Based on the people you surround yourself with, you’ve built a Little … Stockholm? Oslo? right here in … wherever we are. Pennsylvania or Maryla
nd, I assume. Or …” He tried to picture the state just to the south of Maryland, but his mental map was hazy. “West Virginia,” he said after a moment. That didn’t seem quite right.

  “Come in,” called Theo, although Philip hadn’t heard a knock.

  The door opened and a man stepped in. An alarmingly large man.

  “Lucas,” said Viklund, “I believe Mr. Castillo may need some help returning to his room. He’s looking a bit sleepy.”

  He did feel sleepy. Not so much sleepy as … he cast about for the right description. Woozy?

  Drugged?

  Goddamn.

  26

  Louise was immersed in an unauthorized perusal of the files of the NIH when a light laugh behind her forced her attention back to the lab. She turned to see Theo standing at the door.

  “Fascinating, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “Yes, it is.” She glanced around the lab. “Where is Edmund?”

  Theo strolled over to the desk where she was working and glanced at the monitor. “He left half an hour ago.”

  “Oh. Well.” She stood so she didn’t have to crane her neck to speak with Theo. “Where did he go?”

  “He has his own quarters,” said Theo. He glanced at his watch. “It’s quite late. You missed dinner. I’ll ask Maja to bring something to your suite.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I brought some news.”

  “Yes?”

  “The attorney general’s office has discontinued its investigation of Vivantem.”

  Louise raised an eyebrow. “I’m not surprised that they’ve had to put it on the back burner, with the founder dead and the new CEO missing.”

  “It’s not on the back burner,” said Theo. “It’s closed.”

  Louise examined him for a moment, then said, “That is certainly good news. I gather I have you to thank for that.”

  Theo waved his hand. “It was a matter of a few phone calls. The Lenape Township Police Department—one detective in particular—was actually more of a challenge to call off than the AG’s office.”

  Louise hesitated. “The police are definitely off the arson case?”

  “And murder.”

  “And murder.”

  “Yes,” said Theo. “Assuming, of course, that their prime suspect—you—doesn’t reappear in public. And in other news,” he continued, “we got a chance to put the Rohypnol drug to use this evening.”

  “On Castillo?”

  “Yes. Mr. Pieda was able to obtain some useful information from him.”

  “What did he find out?”

  Theo waved his hand. “Nothing you need worry yourself about.”

  Louise opened her mouth, then clamped her lips together. After a moment, she asked, “What are you going to do with Castillo and Pieda?”

  “I will enlist them to my cause.”

  “What about Ballard? Will you be bringing her here as well?”

  “If she would ever emerge from the hotel,” he said with mock irritation, then smiled. “No, in reality, I am happy to leave Miss Ballard where she is—at least for now.”

  “And how do I factor into this plan?” asked Louise.

  “Your medical and scientific expertise is vital to my plans.”

  “Like reformulating the drugs.”

  Theo began wandering around the lab. “Yes, that has certainly been most helpful, but I know what you’re capable of, and in comparison to some of the work you’ve done, those were mere parlor tricks. You created children with extraordinary talents—I’m most interested in that. And in exchange for your support, I can continue to protect you from the unwanted attention of the authorities.”

  “You’ve known me for many years, Theo. Why are you enlisting my help with your plans now?”

  “You were immersed in your work at Vivantem.”

  “True.”

  “I look for people to enlist to my cause who can focus their attentions exclusively on our joint undertakings. I believe the focus that our current arrangement offers will enable you to do work you wouldn’t have been able to conceive of even a short time ago.” He returned to where she stood and gestured toward the lab stool. She sat, and he pulled up a stool and sat as well. “I believe you could find a life of relative isolation attractive, as long as research facilities are available. But even for you, my offer would not have been appealing had I approached you before the attorney general’s investigation, before Gerard’s death, before the debacle with Elizabeth Ballard and Mitchell Pieda, before the situation progressed to a point that burning down your home was the only way out of it.”

  She was silent.

  “Now, however, I believe what I’m offering could be quite attractive to you.”

  After a moment, Louise said, “I’m hardly in a position to negotiate.”

  “Am I misunderstanding your character so much?” he asked with a smile.

  “No. The scenario does hold some appeal. It’s not what you’re offering, it’s what you’re taking away. It’s been many years since I’ve had to take orders from someone else.”

  “I would hardly consider it taking orders—we’re partners.”

  “It’s hardly an equal partnership when one person holds all the cards.”

  “I believe I would play the cards in a way that would benefit us both.”

  Louise looked down at her hands and realized that she was fidgeting with her wedding ring. She laced her fingers together in her lap. “Just so I’m sure I’m clear, the proposal is …?”

  “I will protect you from the authorities and will continue to provide you with state-of-the-art facilities and all the data you could possibly need for your research. That is the prize—the iron ring—that I’m offering you. In exchange, I would ask you to agree to stay here in the compound except if and when I arranged for you to travel, obviously under a false identity. And you would provide me with the results of your research, for me to do with as I see fit.”

  After a long pause, Louise spoke. “Very well.”

  Theo stood and held out his hand. “I’m so pleased, Louise, and so excited—for both of us.”

  She stood and shook his hand.

  “May I accompany you back to the house?” he asked.

  As they walked back to the main building, the only illumination the lights that lined the walk, Louise thought she heard the sound of steps behind them. She turned but could see no one.

  “Probably Lucas,” said Theo easily. “My bodyguard. I asked him to stay by the lab in case you needed anything.”

  “You asked him to stay outside the lab, unannounced?”

  “I didn’t want him to be a distraction.”

  When they reached the main building, Maja met them at the door and took Louise’s coat.

  “Maja,” said Theo, “Dr. Mortensen will be dining in her suite. I regret I will not be able to join her, but please have Agnes make something special. It’s a night to celebrate.”

  “Certainly, Herr Viklund,” replied Maja.

  “Good night, Louise.”

  Louise nodded to him.

  Maja led Louise to her suite. When they got there, Louise said, “I’d like to keep my coat with me. That way I can step outside without you having to take the time to bring it to me.”

  “It’s no problem, Dr. Mortensen, I’m happy to do it. Just press zero on your phone should you need anything.”

  Maja stepped into the corridor and closed the door noiselessly behind her, Louise’s coat draped over her arm.

  Louise walked to the window and looked out, the wooded landscape visible only for the dozen feet illuminated by the lights from the room.

  She didn’t like the turn her relationship with Theo was taking. When she had appealed to him for help when the situation with Ballard and the Attorney General began to deteriorate, she had known that she would need to repay him in some way. However, she had pictured it as a reckoning up between equals, made from some foreign country with no extradition agreement with the United States, and under a new id
entity.

  Could she even trust Theo’s description of activities beyond his compound? Had the AG’s investigation actually been closed? She got out the phone he had provided and looked for the browser app, but she couldn’t find it. In fact, the phone was missing most of the standard apps.

  With an ever-growing sense of misgiving, she went to the bathroom closet to get her handbag, which she hadn’t needed since she had arrived at Theo’s compound. She reached into the pocket where she kept her mobile phone.

  Empty.

  Her heart beat accelerating, she checked the main compartment of the handbag, and eventually removed all the items onto the vanity.

  Her phone was gone.

  Twenty minutes later, Maja arrived with caviar atop a bed of ice and a plate of blini. She opened and poured from a split of Champagne.

  “Do you have any special requests for dinner?” she asked Louise.

  “No, thank you, that will be enough for this evening.”

  Maja looked uncertain. “Perhaps some soup?”

  “No. But thank you.”

  “Very well. Let me know when you’d like me to come back for the dishes.”

  After Maja left, Louise went to the table, scooped some caviar onto a blini with a small mother-of-pearl spoon, and ate it. She didn’t doubt it was top quality, but it tasted no better to her than sardines dug out of a tin can. She took the glass of Champagne back to the window.

  When she had finished the Champagne—as well as the caviar-free blinis, which she ate when she began to realize the foolishness of drinking on an empty stomach—she reached for the mobile phone to call Maja, then hesitated. She crossed to the door and turned the knob.

  She had expected it to be locked, but the door swung open. The corridor was empty. She stepped out and listened for the sound of footsteps. All was silent.

  She went back to the dining table and picked up the plates and glass, then returned to the corridor and walked slowly in the direction of the entrance hall, her heart thumping.

  As the curve of the corridor brought the entrance hall into view, she saw a large man standing motionless and silent at the end of the corridor. His feet were slightly apart, his hands clasped loosely in front of him. He turned in her direction.