Vortex

help you. Or to help you help your brother Kyle, if you prefer. Now, I have to give Officer Bose his due—he’s not completely full of shit. There are folks in Houston who are involved with the life-drug trade, that’s a fact. And yes, the trade is illegal. But ask yourself—maybe you have asked yourself—is it such a bad thing, what they’re doing? A treatment that can add thirty or forty years to a person’s life, what’s so sinful about that? What gives the government the right to keep it from us? Because it’s bad for their, what, social planning?”

“If you’re trying to make a point—”

“I’m asking you to think outside the box, Dr. Cole. You’re young, you’re healthy, you don’t need the Martian treatment—that’s fine. You might feel different when that pretty skin starts to sag, when you come to the time of life when there’s nothing to look forward to but a hospital bed or a grave. Okay, not yet and probably not for a long time. But things happen. Suppose you get a bad diagnosis—not years from now but next week—stage four cancer, nothing they can do for you with ordinary medicine. Well, the life drug isn’t just for what they call longevity. You live longer because it’s inside you, patrolling your body for bad cells, tumors, all that filth. It’ll cure your cancer. You still want to keep that drug locked up? Condemn yourself to death for the sake of what they call genomic security? Pardon me if I call that bullshit.”

“I don’t see what this has to do with anything.”

“I’m saying, okay, you’re not in a position right now where you need this treatment for yourself. And maybe you’re such a staunch advocate of whatever-the-fuck principle is involved you never will want it, at least for yourself. But I want to remind you again, it’s a cure. It’s a cure for things there’s no other cure for. Diseases of the body. Also of the brain.”

She managed to say, a little breathlessly, “This is absurd.”

“On the contrary. I’ve seen it happen.”

“You’re talking about a criminal act.”

“I’m talking about a bottle the size of your index finger with a colorless liquid inside. Consider what it could do for Kyle. You take your brother out of Live Oaks and you administer this drug. He’ll run a fever for a while but after a couple of weeks he’s good as new, all that damaged brain tissue completely restored… or close enough that you can help him get his life back. Think about your responsibility as a doctor and as a sister. Even with the best therapy money can buy, Kyle’s wasting away—he’s half dead already, he’s dying by inches, you know that. So what do you? Do you let him go? Or do you do this one thing, this simple thing, this thing other people are doing every day for far more selfish reasons? Ask yourself. It’s a practical proposition. The bottle I’m talking about, I’m holding it in my hand right now. I can get it to you anonymously and safely. No one will know anything about it but you and me. All that has to happen is, you stop interfering with Dr. Congreve’s business. Tomorrow morning you get up, you drive to State, you apologize to Congreve, and you sign a document recusing yourself from Orrin’s case for conflict of interest.”

Despite the heat, despite the sweat trickling down her cheek, Sandra felt cold. The window curtains rose and fell in a fitful breeze. At the other end of the room the video screen flickered in mute hysteria.

“I won’t sacrifice Orrin Mather.”

“Who said anything about sacrifice? So Orrin goes into State Care. Is that so awful? A clean place to live and some daily supervision, no more sleeping on the street—it sounds like a decent outcome to me, taking the long view. Or don’t you have any faith in the system you work for? If State’s such a bad deal, maybe you should reconsider your choice of career.”

Maybe she should. Maybe she had. Maybe she shouldn’t even be listening to this. “How do I know I can believe you?”

“The reason you can believe me is that I took the trouble to make this call. Please understand, I’m not threatening you in any way. I’m simply attempting to do business with you. Admittedly there are no guarantees. But isn’t it worth gambling, when your brother’s future is at stake?”

“You’re just some voice on the phone.”

“All right, I’m going to hang up now. I don’t need you to say yes or no, Dr. Cole. I just want you to think about the situation. If you contribute to a satisfactory outcome in this matter you’ll be rewarded. Leave it at that.”

“But I—” she began.

Uselessly. The caller was gone.

* * *

She explained it all to Bose, surprisingly calmly—or maybe not so surprisingly, given the two glasses of wine she’d poured and gulped while she was waiting for him to arrive. Her mother, who used to take a drink or two in stressful moments, had called the effect “Dutch courage.” Sandra glanced at the label on the wine bottle. Napa Valley courage.

“Bastard,” Bose said.

“Yes.”

“He must have had you followed. And he’s well connected enough that he was able to find out who you were visiting at—what’s it called?”

“Live Oaks Polycare Residential Complex.”

“Where your brother lives.”

“Kyle, yes.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a brother.”

“Well, it didn’t—I wasn’t hiding it from you.”

He gave her a speculative look. “I didn’t think you were. Did you notice anything while you were out there? An unfamiliar face, maybe a car on the road?”

“No. Nothing.”

“And nothing distinctive about the voice?”

“He sounded like he might be an older guy. A little phlegmy. Otherwise, no.” She had checked to see if her phone had recorded the caller’s number, but of course it hadn’t. “I’m not even sure why this person thinks I’m worth threatening or bribing. Congreve already bumped me from Orrin’s case. Any medical decision is out of my hands.”

“Unless they can compromise you, you’re still a dangerous loose end. You could testify about Congreve’s behavior if the matter came up in court. You could go to authorities with what you already know.”

“But without Orrin’s testimony—”

“At this point I don’t think these folks are worried about what he might say in court. I think they’re worried about what he saw in the warehouse and where that knowledge might lead a federal investigation, if he’s allowed to talk freely about it. Getting Orrin declared incompetent is just the first step. I expect they want him drugged and permanently out of sight. Or worse, dead.”

Sandra whispered, “They can’t do that.”

“Once he’s in internment,” Bose said gently, “things can happen.”

Well, yes. She had seen the statistics. In the past year there had been half a dozen violent assaults at the local internment camp, not to mention deaths from drug overdoses or deliberate suicide. On a per-capita basis the State camps were relatively safe—far safer, statistically, than living on the street. But, yes, things could happen. Maybe things could even be arranged to happen.

“So how do we stop them?”

Bose smiled. “Slow down.”

“I mean, tell me what I can do.”

“Let me give it some thought.”

“We don’t have a lot of time, Bose.” Orrin’s final review was scheduled for Friday, and Congreve could call it sooner if he felt pressured.

“I know. But it’s past midnight and we both need to get some sleep. I’ll stay here tonight—if that’s okay with you?”

“Of course it is.”

“I can sleep on the couch if you like.”