David Dun - Overfall

“Can you fix me? My head. You have scientists.”

“I will see what I can do. But if you don’t trust me with Jason, how are you going to trust me with your head?”

They knew they had him. Even when Samir said he would call back, they were pretty sure of his answer.

Chellis hung up the phone and rolled Benoit over on the couch. Their sex was fast and for her as mechanical as the drawbridges on the Seine.

“God, that relaxes me,” Chellis said.

“Why don’t you go home early? I will call your masseuse.”

“Good,” he said.

Benoit called Jacques at the Kuching laboratory.

“So what’s happening?”

“I’m in the lab cleaning up spilled crap. Somebody got agarose and ethidium bromide all over the workbench and on the floor and didn’t clean it up.”

“You have people to do that.”

“Not in the wee hours. I still like to play in the lab. I’m cutting some plasmid.”

“So?”

“So if you really want to know, we are getting a better handle on the interaction between the amygdala and the thalamus. When a visual danger signal is processed, it goes to your thalamus. At that point the signal diverges and goes both through the cerebral cortex and directly to the amygdala. We have some information about the cascades and the feedback between the cortex and the amygdala that… well, let’s just say I think the fight on the roof would have gone better. We are getting some promoters for soldier profile that will knock your socks off. We already have the receptor coding sequence down pat.”

“Good, good. I need to know more. Gaudet wants to understand the science.”

“You don’t understand the science. Just tell him that.”

“Yeah, well, in the strict sense that’s right, but I know what you’ve told me. I know what I’ve seen. And he knows I’m not stupid. So I am going to have to give the basics.”

“We did that. He’s the one who first suggested putting the vector in Chellis.”

“He wants a little detail. He knows I know some of it.”

“Something about telling Gaudet even the general outline of the program bothers me.”

“I will be vague.”

“You won’t breathe a word about the soldier profile.”

“He knows we did something to those guys on the roof. He didn’t understand it but he heard enough to know.”

“Could have been a drug.”

“Look. I’m mostly going to explain all the legit stuff. Curing anxiety disorder, curing psychopaths. I told him how that research led to Jason and Samir.”

“You didn’t tell him the difference between Kuching and the other labs.”

“Just the most rudimentary basics of Nervous Flyer. No Soldier profiles. None of the new stuff. I said you do monkeys in Kuching and we do rats in France.”

“You didn’t even hint-”

“Will you relax? I didn’t. I won’t. I made it sound very preliminary.”

“Okay. I miss you. I want to see you.”

“Patience, my love.”

“And I want a crack at our beloved CEO. When I walk into the room I want him shaking in the corner like a poisoned rat, tongue out, eyes dried like little raisins, squinting, trying to remember a world that is no more and trying to escape a mind overrun with goblins.”

“Jacques, what did he ever do to you?” She laughed. “Don’t answer that. You will get your chance to fill his head with goblins. Soon. But don’t you think turning Chellis into Mother Teresa would be more of an accomplishment?”

“Too bad we can’t kill him.”

“Well, we can’t. The trust provides that Marie and I have control only as long as he lives. After that the lawyers and banks take over and we’ll be out on the street.”

“When do I get to see you again? You always screw and run.”

“Don’t be shallow. You know I love you. We just have to be patient.”

“It would be a lot easier to be patient if I could hold you in my arms, share wine, sit on the veranda every night.”

“Let’s not get into this on the phone.”

“No one is listening, for God’s sake. That scrambler thing…”

“Okay, Jacques… You know, I heard that the gal in your records department has taken up with your new neurologist.” She got him off onto office gossip, which he liked, particularly if it related to women and their lovers. It took about fifteen minutes to establish the connection with the man that she sought.

When she saw the phone light with another incoming call, she got off the line, wishing that Marie could help her with Jacques the way she helped with Chellis. It was Michelle, and she had a disagreeable tone in her voice.

“You know our talking like this is dangerous,” Michelle began.

“Did you get a chance to use the oil?” Benoit asked.

“Why?”

“It’s part of the deal, you don’t have to know why.”

“But if I knew why or what-”

“Did you do it?”

“Yes, and now he’s climbing the walls, he shakes, he won’t talk to me. It’s like he thinks he’s going to die or something.”

“Okay, you can give him the regular stuff later today. I will leave you a message when it’s time for the second rubdown. If you want to see your son, do it my way. Only eight more months and we’ll buy him. That’s the deal.”

Chellis came in and out, wanting news of Jason, and when there was no news he went to the gym to work out She was grateful he didn’t want sex. She was busy. Finally Gaudet called her back.

“I found him.”

“Good,” she said. “Here’s the plan…”

Anna told herself that it would be irrational for Sam to back out of the party. But here it was, 6:57 P.M., and she could imagine him at the office grinning.

She called him on his cell. “Where are you?”

“Don’t worry. I’m not tricking you from a tavern. I’ll be there in two minutes.”

At exactly 7:00 P.M. her doorbell rang and he appeared in her foyer. This was not Sam in the straw hat.

“Breathtaking.” She realized she was smiling too broadly. “Absolutely breathtaking.”

“You aren’t bad yourself,” Sam said. “But to the extent that I’m noteworthy, that is bad.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re my escort. You’re expected to be spectacular.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Don’t worry, the press coverage will be minimal. A couple of publicity shots. Nothing more.

“Let’s go. Before your worry puts a chill on the evening.” She gave him her arm and they walked past the Blue Hades to the waiting limo. She kept talking all the way there, partly out of guilt and partly to avoid more questions about the press.

When they arrived at the studio, it appeared that her press agent had said just a little too much. The journalists were stacked up like the shoe boxes in her closet.

As she slid over to the limo door, Sam asked, “Anna, did you set me up?”

Outside, she took Sam’s arm. To his credit he stood tall and took her through the crowd like John Wayne on a spring morning.

A wall of cameras sparked the night and blackened the sky, and they stepped through them like seraphs passing through diamonds. It was exactly the way she wanted it-upon reflection. Sam could just cope.

“Ho, ho, you nailed me,” he said.

“You like making me happy?” After they passed inside the studio, she turned to him. “Nobody knows who you are. And I intend to keep them in suspense.”

Sam nodded to her. “I’ll join you in a minute.”

Slightly disconcerted at his departure, she moved forward, shaking hands and greeting people.

Anna had sprung a not-so-subtle trap. It amused Sam and troubled him at the same time, and that seemed to be the way with this woman, both on-screen and off. As he walked away from the throng of reporters, a short, aggressive fellow with a determined grip on his green steno pad stopped him.