Russell Andrews - Aphrodite

"I know all about this," Rollins said. "Who the hell do you think formulated the Justice Department's response?"

"The threat's over," Westwood said. "Nobody has anything to worry about from Kransten or from the Aphrodite experiments. It's over."

"I told them it was you. They didn't believe me. They couldn't figure out how you got out of the country." Rollins gathered himself under the sheet, propped himself up farther, and stuck out his hand. "You did pretty good. I told them they shouldn't underestimate you."

Justin ignored Rollins's hand. Wouldn't shake it. He waited until the agent slowly dropped it back by his side. "I did better than you think."

"And I'm sure you're going to tell me about it."

"As a matter of fact, I am. Here's the first thing you have to know- and here's the first thing you have to tell your boss: Kransten had what you were so worried about. The formula was finished. He had the fountain of youth in his computer, along with marketing plans and a multi-million-dollar launch. The government's worst nightmare come true. It exists."

"What's the second thing?"

"I've got it. The complete formula. All the details of the years of experimentation. It's enough to re-create it perfectly."

"Then just turn it over," Rollins said, "and the whole thing'll be forgotten."

"Not a chance," Westwood told him.

"You don't want to be in that position, Justin. As long as you have it, they're going to come after you."

"As long as I'm the only one who has it."

"Oh, Christ. What are you telling me?"

"It's been distributed. To quite a few people. Everyone I trust has a copy."

"You fucking idiot. You don't know what you've done."

"I know exactly what I've done," Justin said quietly. "I've made sure you bunch of lying psychopaths leave me, Deena Harper, and her daughter, Kendall, alone."

"You've done just the opposite. You just signed your own death warrants."

"I don't think so. You pass all this along: The people I've sent copies to…no one knows what he's got. They don't know its purpose. Everyone knows one thing only: Over the next ten years, starting today, if anything happens to me, Deena, or her little girl, they're all to make the notes and the formula public. They've got instructions on exactly how to do it. And you'll never be able to stop all of them."

"Why ten years?"

"Less than that, you people hold grudges. You'd kill us out of spite as soon as you thought it was safe. More than that didn't seem realistic. After a decade, I'll take my chances. I figure by then you'll be old and I'll be able to take you in a fair fight if you decide to come after me."

Rollins sank back in the bed. "How many people have copies?"

"Too many for you to go after. And in case you decide to, they've all got the names of three other people who have the disks. Anything suspicious happens to any of them, someone's going to release the formula and spread the word."

Rollins stayed quiet for the longest minute of his life. Finally, he said, "And all we have to do is leave you alone?"

"No. I want news coverage clearing us. Me, Deena, Frank Manwaring. I want a plausible explanation for Maura Greer's death made very public. I want Wanda Chinkle to get credit for solving the case so you can't fire her. You can link it to Kransten or Newberg or whoever you want. But we're absolutely cleared of any suspicion in any of it. Same for the murders of Ed Marion and Brian Meves. Solve those cases and make sure we're cleared. Wanda can get credit for everything, if that makes it easier for you. But I want to read about all of it in the New York Times and see it on every television news show in the country within forty-eight hours."

"I don't know if that's possible," Rollins said.

"I do. You want me to run down the list of murders the govern-ment's been involved in that have never come to light? How about just a list of supposed suicides?"

"I have to check with my superiors."

"Fine. While you're at it, check and see how they'll like it if CNN gets proof of the conspiracy that's been going on for fifteen years with the pharmaceutical companies."

"All right. Let's assume you've got a deal."

"I want to make it even clearer. I want to make absolutely certain you understand the way things stand, you little shithead. If anything happens to me, Deena, or Kendall over the next ten years-and I mean anything-you're fucked. If any of us get hit by a car crossing the street or choke on a chicken bone in a restaurant or get cancer, the Aphrodite formula is made public and the conspiracy's revealed. So you might not just want to leave us alone, you guys might want to hire crossing guards for us and make sure we've got really good medical insurance. You got it?"

"I've got it. Anything else?"

"Yeah. Get out of East End Harbor. After tomorrow, if I see you within two blocks of where I am, anywhere in the world, I'm going to kill you without even asking a question. You got that, too?"

"I've got that, too. You have anything else?"

"No."

"Then I have a question for you."

"Okay. You can have one."

"We heard there was a daughter. Kransten had a daughter."

"I heard that too. Apparently she died a long time ago. As a child."

"So you didn't see anyone? There was no trace of a daughter living there?"

"Absolutely no trace," Justin said. And then he said, slowly, almost incredulously, "You people. You fucking careless people. You think you can do what you want, hide the things you don't want people to see. Why'd you go along with it? What makes you so sure you're right about things that you'll let so many people die?"

"I work for the government," Rollins said. "I work for people who see the big picture."

"There's always a big picture with you guys, isn't there? There's always something that justifies all the damage you do."

Their eyes met and locked. "Congratulations," Rollins said. "You won."

Justin shook his head. "Everybody lost," he said. Then he turned and walked out of the motel room without ever looking back.

They had dinner at Sunset. Sat outside and watched the moon's reflection glide over the water of East End Bay. They had oysters and then grilled fish, with a chilled bottle of good white wine. Neither one of them wanted coffee or dessert, but they had an after-dinner drink, thin cordial glasses of a vin santo.

Justin walked Deena home after dinner. They strolled along Main Street, which was busy with the midsummer tourist crowd desperate to pack in as many evenings of carefree fun before Labor Day. They reached the front of her house, went inside, up the stairs into her apartment. They paid the baby-sitter, looked in on Kendall, who was asleep, then they went into Deena's room and they made love. There was no conversation; he just reached for her and she responded. It started simply enough, with a kiss, but then her nails ran down his back and she bit his lip until he yelped in pain. He grabbed her hair and kissed her hard. They undressed each other, yanking their clothes off in jerky, spasmodic movements, and fell on the bed. They made love for a long time, and they both knew there was something desperate, almost violent in the way they were kissing and touching and writhing and moaning. When they were done, they were both sweating and breathing hard, both of them stunned at the emotion and the release they had just experienced.

It took Justin a long time before he could speak but finally, his chest still heaving, he said, "So what happens now?"

Deena wiped the sweat off her forehead. She got up from the bed, grabbed a blue silk robe off the hook on the back of her bedroom door. She wrapped the robe around her, sat back on the bed, one leg tucked under her. She reached over and put her hand on his arm. "My whole life, the last few years of it anyway, has been spent trying to achieve some kind of spiritual balance. That's what I believe in, Jay. Balance and peace. Your life-"