“So what is there to talk about? We both need Jacques and his research.”
“What about half of the private half of Grace, which would be twenty percent.”
“What about five percent of Grace Technologies?”
“Come on. I have half of the brainpower of the corporation right here in a monkey cage. The other half is up for grabs-depends on who gets Jason. If you take out Grady without them tracing it to you, then maybe a French court will let you hang on to Jason. Then again maybe not, and all you’ll have is Jacques. And since I have Jacques, it seems to me that five percent is ridiculous.”
“There is a lot more to Grace than weapons and Soldier profiles. Don’t be greedy or you’ll get nothing.”
“We should meet and talk, my dear.”
“Okay. In the meantime leave Jacques’s brain alone.”
“Actually, I think I’ll relate to him better if he’s paranoid.”
“Then for God’s sake give him Jason’s vector profile, not what he created for Chellis.”
“Which did you give me?”
“Essentially you have Jason’s profile. We want a whole brain here or we won’t have anything to bargain over.”
“Benoit, don’t let him do it,” Jacques shouted.
“Did you have the speakerphone on?”
“I thought it was only fair that he hear you giving his sanity away. Call me when you have a reasonable proposal.” And with that, Samir hung up.
Thirty-nine
“We have a problem,” Benoit said when she reached Gaudet.
“Well, I have a few myself. Why are you calling me?”
“Samir Aziz has Jacques at gunpoint in the laboratory and he’s gotten all the hormone he needs to be fearless for the next decade.”
“We’ll deal with it tomorrow. Any more good news?”
“The lawyers are in court. They’re anticipating Anna’s people, and they are filing papers saying that we want an order halting any interference with Jason’s guardianship. Roberto is of course asserting that he is the lawful guardian. What we really need is Jason in our custody back in France. That way we can get someone here appointed even if it isn’t Roberto. Someone with ties to Grace.”
“I know you need Jason back in France, but it will be hard to explain a war over here in Canada, and he is heavily guarded. I’m trying to do it quietly.”
“The lawyers say we need him on French soil now. Do whatever it takes. We’ll explain that some mercenary got out of control if we have to. That’s better than not having him at all.”
“That’s a messy way to handle things. And I’m the one who stands to lose when the authorities decide to hunt this ‘mercenary.’ ”
“We’ll blame DuShane’s men. Or Aziz. But we can’t continue on without Jason. So get him or we’re finished.”
“What do you mean finished? How can one man-”
“His work is worth billions and it’s not complete.”
“This can’t be done ‘now.’ ”
“If you don’t do it we’re beaten.”
“You know what we’re risking if I use maximum force.”
“I know.”
She hung up furious, wondering if Gaudet would get her condemned to a French jail for the rest of her life. She picked up the phone. She had exaggerated Jason’s importance, but not by much.
“Claude. Claude Balford. Head of security. We need to talk about his mental stability.”
“Huh?”
“I think he’s become unstable. He’s off in Canada. I’m worried he’ll do something crazy. We will need evidence of his instability. Do you understand me?”
Sam was sitting on a ridge across the valley from an ancient cave known to the Tiloks as Man Jumps. The cave was in the side of a formidable gray cliff spotted with the green of stubborn trees that had crammed their toes in the rock and made a home of a seeming vertical wasteland. Sun glistened on the mountain’s face and poured down her blue-gray flanks. There was green in the wet algae near seeps as if nature had thrown Irish sparkles. Around him on the ridge it was quiet. Strewn at his feet were wild-flowers whiter than an eagle’s crown spread over grasses lush from spring rain. As he watched the cave a woman, Anna, appeared. She called to him in her trouble and was frantic about the sheer drop and the death awaiting her if she fell. He tried to call to her, to beckon to her, but she did not see his hand or hear his call. He rose, frustrated at the vast gulf that lay between them.
Two men appeared behind her, grabbing her. They fought, and he saw her arms flying as the man tried to draw her away, back into the cave.
The alarm filled Sam’s ears. He grabbed for Anna, who was coiled around him, then jumped at the sounds of automatic rifle fire and nearly threw her from the bed. The shooting was on the perimeter. The digital clock read 4:00 A.M. He had been sleeping in his flak jacket and had made Anna, Grady, and Jason wear them fully clothed to bed.
“Come on,” he said, his head still full of the dream.
“All right. To the safe room?”
“Yes.”
They took Grady and Jason and went toward the living area, then down a narrow hall. The safe room had been built like a bank vault, but with human habitation in mind. It contained air bottles and masks, enough for twelve hours of isolation. Ventilation could be totally sealed. The insulation inside was more than a foot thick. To get somebody out would take a blast that would kill them.
The safe room stood freely except for its back wall, which fit snugly against the back wall of the utility room and its base that was sunk in concrete. Sam had been told that even the utility room walls had been reinforced with multiple layers of plywood to shield the box from external explosions.
“Put them in. I can shoot,” Anna said. Sam just nodded, unwilling to waste critical seconds arguing. They put Jason and Grady through the six-inch steel door and according to instructions it was then locked from the inside.
Before they got to the living room, T.J. had all the lights out inside the house.
They found a man on watch with a radio, and T.J. alternately barking orders into a microphone and nervously chewing on a plastic coffee stir-stick. They had turned the living room into a command center by moving back sofas, storing furnishings, and placing an old dining table from a local furniture store in the center of the room. It struck a discordant note, like discount fiberboard furniture in the lobby of a Four Seasons hotel.
An umbrella rack by the front door held four M4s and on the hat rack above several pairs of night-vision goggles and a half-dozen gas masks. The two-acre grounds were normally lit by hundreds of walkway and shrubbery lights that actually created the feeling of perpetual twilight. Now the outdoor lighting was being knocked out with bullets. They took up night-vision goggles and placed them on their foreheads, ready to use. Each of them, including Anna, held an M4. Sam handed Anna a gas mask.
The weapons fire was deafening. Muzzle blasts flashed everywhere. Men screamed. Men swore. The radio crackled constantly.
“Did you get the Mounties on the phone?” Sam said.
“I’ll do it now,” T.J. said.
Heavy fire poured through the house. All over the groundsmen were shooting, each man with his own personal war.
“They’re everywhere,” a harried voice shouted.
“Roger that.” There was a roar of shots running together.
