John Locke - Wish List

I sighed. “Hugo. Can we get this thing done?”

We walked into the hanger and up to a Lear 45 where I saw Buddy Pancake’s face in one of the windows.

“Why’s he making that stupid face?” said Hugo.

“I think he’s trying to signal me that someone’s holding a gun on him.”

“Like you wouldn’t have figured that out.”

The goon stopped near the exit door of the jet, and Hugo and I kept walking toward the office in the back of the hangar. As I passed, I nodded at Buddy to let him know I got his message. Buddy kept mouthing the words, “They’ve got guns! Guns!”

Hugo said, “What a moron.”

I said, “Jinny Kidwell for this guy? Gotta be the worst hostage trade in history.”

Hugo laughed.

A voice behind me said, “Hello, Donovan.”

I knew the voice. I turned.

“I’ll be damned,” I said.

“Yes you will.”

It was Rachel’s husband.

“What have you been up to, Sam?”

Sam said, “You know. Just livin’ the dream.” Then he said, “You still banging my wife?”

“Not so much.”

“Can’t say I blame her.”

There were dark circles under Sam’s eyes. His face had a pasty pallor, and his hair was unkempt. He sounded bitter, and looked five years older than he should. I’m sure it’s hard being Sam, a lonely computer genius with no family, friends, or peers in his profession.

“Rachel was asking about you,” I said.

“When?”

“Earlier today.”

“And what did you say?”

I shrugged. “What’s there to say?”

He nodded. “Do I have any chance with her at all? Your honest opinion.”

I said, “The Wish List computer program. Is that your work?”

“You like it?”

“I admire the effort.”

“Do you have any inkling how impressive an achievement that is? I mean, can you even comprehend the magnitude of what I put together?”

I couldn't. But based on his question I figured it must be pretty damn special. I said, “It’s sheer genius.”

“It’s child’s play,” he said.

I shrugged. “Victor hired you to create it?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“I would. You’re the best computer person I’ve ever known.”

He shook his head. “You have no idea.” Then he muttered something about how the rest of us are mere insects trying to fathom quantum physics.

Then he walked away.

Chapter 14

Victor was sitting in the front office in his space age wheelchair, flanked by two little people half my size who I regarded as more dangerous than the goon outside.

“Hugo…tells me…that…Jinny’s alive.”

“She is.”

“Then…let’s…make the…trade.”

Victor’s metallic voice is creepy enough on the phone. In person it’s unearthly.

I said, “What’s wrong with Jinny?”

“She’s got…AIDS.”

“Jesus.”

“Exactly.”

“And you’ve got a cure?”

“One…dose.”

“Damn.”

“Exactly.”

“Look, Victor, you can’t just tell me some guy, working alone, discovered a cure for AIDS. He’s got no notes? Give me a break. That’s not how these things work in real life.”

“Why…do you…care?”

“I might want to write a book someday. You think my readers are going to accept that type of bullshit explanation?”

“You…haven’t…even…written a…book but…you’re worried…about…what your… readers are…going…to think?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Well if…you…write…a book…”

“Yeah?”

“Keep me…out of it.”

“You’ll change your mind when we shoot the movie version.”

“Who…do you…think they’ll…get to…play me…in…the movie?”

I thought about it a minute, then gave up. “Victor, you’re an original. They’ll have to pay through the nose to get you to play yourself. You’ll have them over a barrel.”

He seemed pleased about the movie role, so I got back to it. “So what happened? Tell me about the doctor.”

Victor motioned to Hugo to speak, which is what he did whenever too many words needed to be said. Using the respirator to generate his computer voice for more than a few sentences was not only time consuming, but exhausting for Victor.

Hugo said, “His name was Gero Mielke.”

“German?”

“Correct.”

“What was his specialty?”

Hugo shrugged. “Microbiology, virology, blood cancer specialist….” His voice trailed off.

“Working alone?”

“When we met him he was director of the Berlin Mutational Virology Laboratory. He led his team to the edge of what he realized was a breakthrough, then moved them in a different direction and continued the work alone.”

“Why?”

“He wanted to cash in.”

“How much did you offer?”

“He was going to sell us the formula for a billion dollars.”

“Beats a salary bump at the lab, I’ll bet.”

“Exactly.”

We were all quiet for a moment. I spoke first. “You’re positive Jinny’s got AIDS?”

“Yes,” said Hugo. “One hundred percent. But it’s nearly cured.”

“And her husband?”

“HIV positive.”

“But not AIDS?”

“Not yet.”

“And Buddy?”

“I’m afraid Buddy will be dead by December.”

“But how is that possible? AIDS doesn’t kill that quickly.”

“Apparently the serum that is saving Jinny accelerates the disease in her sexual partners. Dr. Mielke learned that during the testing phase.”

“So Jinny knew she was killing Buddy by sleeping with him?”

“Of course.”

I shook my head. “And she called me disgusting!”

“Women, right?” Hugo said.

“But why isn’t Jinny’s husband dead by now?”

“She and Pete haven’t had sex since learning about her condition.”

An interesting thought came into my mind. “If Jinny gets cured, will she kill all her future sexual partners?”

“No one knows.”

“What about Buddy’s wife, Lissie?”

“What about her?”

“Has he infected her?”

“No. There’s been no sexual contact between them since he’s been with Jinny.”

“Good thing,” I said.

Then I thought of something else. “Who infected Jinny Kidwell?”

“Her husband.”

“What?”

“He was cheating on Jinny and wound up with HIV. He didn’t contract the disease, but he became a carrier, and passed it on to Jinny.”

“I was wondering why he allowed her to fuck Buddy Pancake.”

“Now you know. So, are you ready to make the trade?”

“There are what, twenty, thirty million people living with AIDS?”

“More like forty-five million. And five million new cases a year.”

“A billion dollars seems cheap. What happened, you got greedy?”

“No. We made several payments, but Dr. Mielke began making impossible demands. In the end, he was a raging paranoid who thought we were going to steal his formula. He tore up his notes and worked alone at night, after his team left the lab. He began missing our deadlines and refused to continue working without being paid. The situation got out of hand.”

“What happened to him?”

Hugo and Victor exchanged a look. Hugo said, “Unfortunately, Dr. Mielke died before we could resolve our issues.”

“Cause of death?”

“Heart attack.”

“Uh huh. Was there torture involved?”

Victor said, “A little.”

“You thought you might be able to force his cooperation.”

Hugo said, “The idea made sense at the time.”

“But you tortured him to death.”

“Not me, but yes, that was the unhappy result.”

“The man was living a double life.”