Unacceptable Risk (27 page)
Her back arched and she nearly screamed and it made him feel very much the bull man as he worked his way up to his own orgasm.
They were back in the Hotel International, back in the same room with the same pastries. For a moment he wondered if it was bugged and then dismissed the idea.
When she rolled off, he lay beside her, admiring her body and wondering at his good fortune while he tried to stifle the guilt. His life was becoming ever more confusing. He was a good public servant in the service of a government that was as soft as it was inept. He was a man of talent who had been passed over and now he was making sure that he was not entirely without good fortune. Like rules about monogamy and sex, which he was stretching some, he was also wreaking havoc with the rules of his profession. But it seemed necessary and not unlike the things done by other men who had escaped doormat status—a life spent under the boots of the arrogant and wealthy.
She went to shower, and even when he was spent she fascinated him. He sat on the toilet seat and watched her, still thrilling at the sight of her lithe body. He never had enough of looking. It was possible to watch by pulling back the edge of the shower curtain and he enjoyed the water pouring over her skin and the droplets beading over her.
"So, tell me about Gaudet. What will he do after Cordyceps?"
"Plastic surgery. I'm sure he already has the new identity and no one really knows the old one. I know what he looks like, but that is about it."
"What will it be like when I meet him?"
"You won't really. You won't see him and you won't be close enough to touch him and he will disguise his voice. He will give you nothing of himself."
"I can see why you worked for the company—why you practically ran it."
"You know Thomas Edison, the American inventor? He said that people miss opportunity because it comes dressed in overalls and looks like work. That is the biggest component of success—work. But there is another component. When the Wright Brothers invented the airplane, the world was ready for a flying machine. When Edison invented the electric light, the world was ready to escape the soot. I am telling you the world is ready to master the body. I can see that you are a man with the vision to be part of that."
"You know how to inflate a man's ego."
"I can feel ambition in a man. I feel ambition in you. And you know that France will pay for Chaperone. Likewise, you know there are people who will make a killing when the market falls. You can take a big bite out of both apples. But now you need to ask the admiral to let me go to the United States."
"You think I can just snap my fingers?"
"Ask him or we are through. I will go back to the dungeon."
"Relax. I will ask him. He will say no, but I will ask just the same. Benoit? What made you dream up this whole idea?"
"Prison has a way of focusing your thoughts. Liberation is a powerful incentive."
Baptiste nodded.
"I will have to tell the admiral about Cordyceps and, of course, France will have to appear to try to stop it."
Baptiste opened his mouth to protest.
"Don't worry. The admiral can try all he wants, but he won't be playing with a full deck. I'll see to that."
She stepped out of the shower and onto the tile floor. Moving the towel over her body was like a peep show. When she glanced down and saw his erection, she reached for it and pushed him back a bit; then she settled on him and she hunkered down very tight and began to move. In minutes the tightness of her and the softness of her aroused him near to orgasm. Her back became taut and he could feel the muscles like steel bands above her buttocks as she orchestrated the level of friction with her pubic bone. God, it was as if her body were a suction cup pulled tight to his. Her breathing became strong and he tasted the new sweat between her breasts. When her nipples were hard, and the size of thimbles, he took the right one in his mouth and used his tongue so that she shuddered and moved even harder down on him. The slickness of her made a giant quivering in his thighs and he could feel her perfect rhythm, now like a galloping horse hard onto the finish line, and then she moaned deep and long and he let himself come and he felt strong. So strong.
Baptiste ordered security not to let Benoit contact anyone. He would do all the talking to the admiral that needed to be done. It was a dangerous career move, but the relief it provided him made it seem worth the risk. Preventing Admiral Larive from initiating a meeting with her would be more difficult. As he was thinking through how he would approach the admiral, his phone rang. It was Figgy.
"Somebody just tried to kill Sam and got his girlfriend instead."
"Why in the hell are we talking on an open line?"
"Because I don't give a shit, and besides, nobody is listening and it wouldn't matter to me if they were."
"There is actually a Sam?"
"I said cut the shit," Figgy barked.
"Who did it? Gaudet?"
"I was worried it might be you or your boss."
"No way. Get it straight. We want Sam to lead us to Chaperone. If someone is trying to kill him, it's no doubt Gaudet and we don't have a clue to his whereabouts."
"You're sure."
"I'm certain. Keep your eye on the ball. There is a lot of money to be made."
Baptiste hung up. Now was the time to meet Gaudet. He would need an alibi—a way of legitimizing the meeting if someone found out. He went to the admiral.
The man was smoking one of his cigars and that normally meant he was in a good mood. It was rare of the admiral to have a cigar in his office. The room was large, with a desk at one end and a more informal conference area at the other, and the office permitted a great deal of pacing on the admiral's part.
"I have a tip that Gaudet wants to talk," he began.
The chief puffed extra hard on his cigar and Baptiste could see a brightness in the eyes.
"How do you talk with Gaudet in the future?" the admiral questioned.
"I dial a cell phone number."
"Do you have it all down in the file?"
"Oh yes."
"What kind of a deal could the French government make with a man like Gaudet?"
"Offer to buy Chaperone," Baptiste answered.
"Yes, except I thought he doesn't have it."
"But he's a dog in the hunt with a lot of inside information."
"We haven't found Raval?"
"Not yet."
"And Sam?"
"Figgy says not yet."
"Sam brought down Grace Technologies so I know his organization is effective. What are they doing, then? That's what I'm getting at."
"Trying to catch Gaudet."
"We all claim to be trying to stop Gaudet. Where is Sam now?" the admiral inquired.
"New York. Michael Bowden is there too, Figgy says."
"We all need Bowden, that's sure. It alone is enough reason to go there. Now, how do you get Bowden on our side? Never mind. I don't need to know. You just need to do it. And get Chaperone. I have been told that France must win this race in the strongest possible terms. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, sir," Baptiste said. "There is one more thing."
"Yes?"
"I don't want you to think I'm crazy, but I believe we should consider temporarily releasing Benoit Moreau to assist us."
"You're right, I think you're crazy. Why?"
Baptiste explained Benoit's plan for getting the technology for France in exchange for a pardon—Bowden's knowledge of the source of the molecule, Gaudet's knowledge of the vector technology, and Raval's knowledge of the Chaperone
immune system process.
"You actually think she could do all that?"
"It doesn't hurt us to let her try. The only risk is that she will escape."
"It'll be your risk, then. If you believe in her, I'll go with a temporary release on your say-so. Submit a memo arguing strongly for her temporary release in the best interest of the Republic and I will take it to the minister."
Benoit Moreau walked out of the government lab that day. Pulling a good travel bag on wheels behind her, she caught a cab for Charles de Gaulle International Airport.
Grady and Michael left the car off campus on the street after having looked for fifteen minutes for a place to park. It had taken them a couple days to recoup from Anna's tragedy and for Grady to become functional. They had remained in New York until the third evening getting ready and making one last somber visit to Anna's bedside.
Dressed like students, they carried backpacks loaded with volumes of an old encyclopedia they'd borrowed from the bed-and-breakfast. Traversing the Eddy Dam footbridge, they wound up past a tennis building to Hoy Road, until they finally found their way to Tower Road and Corson Hall, a biological sciences building at Cornell University. Michael wore a stocking cap and Grady an old fur-lined leather cap from the Salvation Army. Unless one knew exactly what he was looking for, it would be tough to spot them. Because the Kevlar under their parkas made their bodies appear somewhat full, a trained eye would note the possibility of body armor. Now that she was on her own, Grady wasn't as anxious to argue about the Kevlar. They had traveled in the night then took a hotel room and napped, without incident and without any hormone jokes. Both of them were serious and aware of the risks.
Yodo and the bodyguards were staying completely out of sight, back at the bed-and-breakfast, leaving the impression that the entire group, including their charges, had planned a couple of days indoors.
It was cold and looking like snow. Walking across campus, thinking about her aunt, wishing she could be at her side, Grady began to think about her own life, and to fantasize about actually living in a place filled with biology, math, poetry, weighty with thoughts but light on earthly responsibility. For a moment she wondered: was such an idyllic life really that appealing? If she wanted it, she could have it, her aunt would give it to her in a second, and so would Sam, for that matter. It was she who had maneuvered herself out of her classes and into the Amazon and then to New York, and now she was here with a pistol in her purse and no bodyguards.
Looking around with studied casualness, she tried to spot someone that didn't look like a student—maybe a forty-year-old with some flesh on his bones and a mug portraying the cold solitude of a professional criminal. It was a notion from the movies. Sam had explained that some of the deadliest killers were nondescript, never standouts. If Gaudet had any professional killers trailing them, they wouldn't be easy to spot.
Corson Hall was a mostly brick three-story building of nondescript modern architecture. Dr. Lyman's offices were on the second floor. They went in a small side door, feeling safer than if they had charged through one of the main entrances, where she imagined that Gaudet might have someone posted. The faculty offices were typical, modest, with personalized memorabilia according to the tastes of the occupant. As they looked from the doorway, they saw two men in bulked-up suits in chairs in the hallway. One read a paper, the other a book, but they both looked up the moment the quiet electronic chime went off—obviously triggered by opening the door. Grady suddenly knew why it had been so effortless to talk Sam into this mission. She felt both mildly pissed and quietly reassured. Sam wasn't really prepared to let her die yet. As they approached the office of Dr. Lyman, they noticed an open door to an office across the way. In it was a third man, no doubt with a Howitzer in his coat.
At the appointed hour of 11:00 a.m. Michael and Grady approached Dr. Lyman's partially opened door and pushed it a little farther to find a rugged-looking, trim man, fiftyish or so, and quite handsome. He sported a mustache that was well trimmed and Grady noticed a wall filled with pictures of this man with various graduate students and natives in a jungle setting. A field biologist, apparently.
"Pretty heady stuff sitting around with my own private army. They go everywhere with me except inside the classroom and the bathroom. My wife gave them milk and cookies last night. Different group, though, on nights. Michael, how are you?"
Michael shook Lyman's hand. "I'm fine. And this is Grady Wade." Lyman shook her hand as well. "You never mentioned your company here."
"Nope. I just do as I'm told. Very well-placed people from the FBI told me I should allow these guys into my life. They're good guys. It's great to see you, but I'll bet you want to see those journals."
