Peter James: Perfect People

A tall, lean, tanned man, dressed also in dazzling white, with dark, luxuriant hair swept immaculately back and tinged with elegant grey streaks at the temples. Stepping around the side of his desk, he strode across the room, arm outstretched, to greet them. He did not look a day older since they had last seen him four years ago. If anything, he looked younger.

‘Hi, John! Hi, Naomi!’ he said in his warm, assertive Southern Californian accent.

Naomi took a step back as if she had seen a ghost. Then both of them stared at the doctor in stunned silence.

‘What the hell’s going on?’ John said. ‘Do you want to explain to us?’

Beaming at them and ignoring the question, Leo Dettore shook each of their hands, saying, ‘So great to see you guys again!’ He beckoned them to a seating area around a coffee table. But John and Naomi stood still. Behind the geneticist, a wall-to-floor window the width of the room looked out across the campus of buildings, and over to the mountains beyond.

‘You died,’ Naomi blurted. ‘You died – it was on television, in the papers, you-’

‘Please, sit down; you must be shattered. Let me get you something to drink. Water? Coffee?’

‘I don’t want a drink,’ Naomi said, emboldened now. ‘I want to see my children.’

‘Let me have a chance to explain and then-’

‘I WANT TO SEE MY CHILDREN!’ Naomi shouted, close to hysterics.

‘Where the hell are we?’ John said. ‘Just tell us where the hell we are?’

‘That’s not important,’ Dr Dettore said.

‘WHAT?’ Naomi exploded.

‘Not important? We’ve been travelling for twenty-four hours, and it’s not important?’ John marched up to him and raised his fist threateningly. ‘We want our children. We want Luke and Phoebe. If you’ve harmed them in any way, I’ll kill you, I swear it, you bastard, I’ll tear you apart!’

Dettore raised his hands in mock surrender. ‘John, I’ll take you to see them right now. They are safe here. OK?’

‘Yes, right now.’

Unperturbed, Dettore said, ‘Do you think I went to all this trouble to bring you here if I wasn’t going to let you see them?’

‘We have no idea what’s in your sick mind,’ John said. ‘If you’re capable of faking your death then what the hell else are you capable of?’

‘WHERE ARE OUR CHILDREN?’ Naomi yelled.

Dettore waited a moment before replying. Then, calmly, he said, ‘Your children came here in order to be safe. Having them here was the only way I could guarantee their safety. You both know that crazy religious sect was on a mission to kill all the children who had been through my programme. There wasn’t an option. But you need to understand that I brought you here because, as Luke and Phoebe’s parents, you have an absolute right to see your children, and to take them home with you – if they want to go with you.’

‘ If they want to go with us? What do you mean by that?’ demanded John. ‘You’ve kidnapped them – and God knows what your agenda is. If they want to go home with us? What kind of arrogance is that? We’re their damned parents!’

Dettore walked back to his desk and picked up a thick document. ‘Did you never read properly the contract you signed on board the Serendipity Rose – either of you?’

John felt a sudden sick, empty sensation deep inside him.

Dettore handed it to him. ‘It has both your signatures on it, and you have initialled every page.’

There was a moment of silence. Then Dr Dettore went on, ‘Just so that you both understand, Luke and Phoebe were taken into safe custody at their own request. You may of course see them, and spend as much time with them as you like. But I think in your own interests you should first take a look at clause twenty-six, paragraph nine, subsection four of this agreement. You will find it on page thirty-seven.’

John laid the document on the table, and turned to page thirty-seven. He and Naomi both read down, found paragraph nine, which was in tiny print, then subsection four, which was microscopic. It read:

Birth parents agree at a time in the future to be determined by the child or children to cede all rights to parental responsibility, should the children so expressly wish, to Dr Dettore, and Dr Dettore shall have the absolute right to adopt said children. In any dispute the wish of the children shall be final and absolute.

At the top and at the bottom of the page were John and Naomi’s initials, boldly written in blue ink.

She was silent for a moment, then said, ‘This can’t be legal. It cannot be binding. They’re three years old! How can a three-year-old have the right to decide its parents? This is rubbish! There isn’t a court in the world where this would stand up.’

‘Let me make something very clear to you guys,’ Dettore said, sitting down opposite them. ‘I didn’t go to the trouble of bringing you here in order to show you a clause in a contract you signed four years ago. I want you to understand that your children have not been coerced or abducted or kidnapped, but are here by legal right, that’s all.’

‘Legal right-’

He raised a hand to silence Naomi in mid-sentence. ‘Hear me out,’ he said. ‘I want to make something important very clear to you. If you want to take your children home, I’m not going to stop you. They’re your kids. I don’t care what agreement we have between us – I’m not a monster, regardless of what the press may have called me over the years. If you insist on taking them home with you, not only are you free to do so, but you’ll have my private aircraft at your disposal. Is that clear?’

‘Presumably there’s a but?’ John said.

‘No, there isn’t.’

‘Nothing about this makes any sense,’ Naomi said. ‘We’ve been living a nightmare since Friday morning.’

Dettore looked at her for some moments before replying. ‘Only since Friday, Naomi? Are you sure it’s only since then?’

She stared, bleakly, back at him. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I think you understand.’

They travelled two stops on the monorail.

‘What is this place?’ John asked Dettore. ‘Is it some kind of government research campus? And this tube train thing? You don’t exactly seem to have traffic congestion above ground.’

‘I’ll explain it all later on,’ he replied.

They stepped onto a platform, then walked over to an elevator. A boy and a girl, who looked to be in their late teens, both tall and beautiful, dressed in dark blue jumpsuits, exited.

‘Good morning, Brandon, morning, Courtney.’

‘Good morning, Dr Dettore,’ each of them said warmly, as if they were greeting a good friend. They spoke in American accents, like everyone else here, so far.

‘I have Parent People visiting today,’ Dettore said, smiling at John and Naomi.

‘Welcome, Parent People!’ Brandon said,

‘We hope you have a great visit, Parent People!’ Courtney said.

In the elevator, Naomi quizzed Dettore. ‘ Parent People? ’

‘Folks like you and John,’ he replied.

The doors opened and they followed Dettore out into a wide corridor with a dark grey carpet and pale grey paint. Along one wall were glass observation windows, and along the opposite one were flat-screen televisions, the displays of which changed every few seconds with differing mathematical formulae.

Several children walked past them, their ages ranging from around three, he guessed, to their late teens. They were all in pairs, always a boy and a girl, all dressed in jumpsuits and plimsolls. All beautiful-looking. All were chatting animatedly to each other as they walked, each of them greeting Dr Dettore cheerily, and it was clear he knew all their names.