The pictures weren’t all from the CFL or JTF2. One of them showed Magnus and Andy Crosthwaite holding hunting rifles, kneeling in front of an old well made of black stone, a bloody line of nine severed deer heads spread out before them. Danté kept asking him to take that picture down, said the office wasn’t the place for it, but Magnus liked it, so it stayed. There were also postcardish shots, of course: pictures of Magnus and Danté fly-fishing in Montana, at a business meeting in Brussels, together on a yacht in the south of France. Those photos with his brother were true treasures—nothing mattered more than family. Danté was the only family Magnus had left.
Danté had also asked Magnus to remove the wooden display case, but that simply wasn’t going to happen. On the left, the case showed Magnus’s unit insignia and rank pins. Stretching out to the right, a dozen Ka-Bar knives mounted point-down, sharp edge facing right. Each of the knives had a story. Five of the knives showed the blackened discolorations of metal heated in a fire. There was enough space for three or four more on the case’s right-hand side. Some tales are never finished.
Magnus took one last deep breath, focused, let it out slow, then turned to his computer and called up a spreadsheet.
A lot of red.
His brother was running Genada into the ground because of some altruistic vision. And for what? A replacement organ bought you what, ten years? Maybe twenty? The universe was at least thirteen billion years old—were there even enough decimal places to measure twenty years against that?
Everyone dies.
Some sooner than others.
Danté had smarts, cleverness, business instincts. That was why Dad had left the company to Danté, not to Magnus. A smart decision, the right decision. But one thing that Danté didn’t have was a real backbone. That was okay, though—that’s what brothers are for. When it came time for the hard decisions, Magnus would protect his brother.
Magnus would make sure things got done.
NOVEMBER 8: THE GAMES PEOPLE PLAY
COLDING KNOCKED ON the door to Tim Feely’s apartment.
“Enter,” Tim called from inside.
Colding tried the handle and found it locked. “It’s locked, dumb-ass.”
“You know the code.”
“I don’t know the code to your door, Tim.”
“You know my computer password? Same thing, chief.”
Colding sighed. He did know that password, as did everyone else. 6969. The high-security practices of their resident computer expert. Colding punched the numbers into the keypad mounted on the wall next to the door.
Tim sat on the couch of his tiny living room, laptop on the coffee table in front of him. Also on the coffee table, a half-empty bottle of Talisker scotch. Tim loved his scotch.
His apartment looked exactly like Jian’s, and every other apartment in the facility: about six hundred square feet of cozy space divided into a living room, a kitchenette, a bathroom and a bedroom.
“Come on, Tim. Why are you working in here instead of with Jian?”
“Because Tiny Overlord Rhumkorrf wants us to think differently.”
“Immune response test failed again?”
Tim nodded. Colding walked up to the couch and peeked at Tim’s laptop screen.
“Dude,” Colding said. “Is scotch and Tetris really part of thinking different?”
Tim shrugged. “Apparently my brain isn’t really worth anything. I might as well explore new territories, like a good buzz and a high score.”
“Oh come on. Your wallet should be embroidered with the words smart motherfucker. How did Rhumkorrf handle it?”
Tim paused the game, took a sip of his drink. “Rhumkorrf is a douchebag, man. A real douchebag.”
“I don’t see that,” Colding said. “He’s just an intense guy.”
“He’d sell you out in a heartbeat if it got him what he wanted. He’d sell any of us out.” Tim and Rhumkorrf had clashed from the beginning. Tim did a good job of pushing down his dislike and playing his role. Mostly. “Know what really burns my ass?”
“What?”
“That Jian is doing the real work. So is Erika. But Rhumkorrf is going to get the lion’s share of the credit.”
“You gotta let it go,” Colding said. “We’re here to save lives, change history. Not for glory.”
“Hah. I’m in it for the money.”
Colding felt a stab of anger, but he shoved it away. Maybe Tim was kidding, maybe not. Didn’t matter. As long as Tim helped make the project a success, he could have whatever motivation he liked.
“Should I check in on Rhumkorrf?”
Tim shrugged. “If you like being in the presence of a walking, talking asshole, that’s your business. He’ll be in the genetics lab, no doubt. But why do that when you can park your ass for a few and have a drink with me, brotha-man?”
“I should check in on everyone first. Maybe I’ll have one later tonight.”
Tim shook his head. “Naw, can’t do later. I’m… I’m kind of taking a break now, but in a few hours I’ll be locked down in here. Really getting into the research, you know? Tim needs his alone time. And before you ask, I checked on Jian and she’s fine. And also, before you ask, I’ll make sure she takes her meds in a little bit.”
“Gosh, it’s like you have ESP or something.”
“That or a basic short-term memory,” Tim said. “If you’re not going to get tanked with me, kindly move along so I can make Tetris my digital bitch.”
Colding gave a half-assed salute, then walked out of the apartment.
Just as Tim had predicted, Rhumkorrf stood alone in the genetics lab, staring at a wall-sized screen full of nothing but black squares.
“What’s up, Doc?”
Rhumkorrf turned, eyes tight with anger, but seemed to relax a little when he saw Colding. “I fear I am not in the mood for your cartoon references today, my friend.”
“Sufferin’ succotash,” Colding said. “That bad?”
“Yes, that bad. We’re at an impasse. I’m convinced we’re missing something relatively obvious.”
“Did you try turning it off, then turning it back on?”
Rhumkorrf glared, then laughed. “If only it were that simple. Is Bobby still here? I could use some flying time to forget all of this.”
“Sorry, he had to take off. If it’s any consolation, he left four new samples.”
The little man sighed. “Well, who knows. Maybe the answer is in one of those. Please ask Tim to process them right away.”
“Tim is very busy,” Colding said. “Said he had a puzzling issue.”
Rhumkorrf rolled his eyes. “You’re a horrible liar. Tetris again?”
Colding nodded.
Rhumkorrf rubbed his eyes. “Have Jian process the samples. The work is beneath her, but maybe she could use the change of pace.”
“Speaking of Jian, Doc, her nightmares are getting worse.”
“Oh? How often? More intense?”
Rhumkorrf’s words came out fast and clipped. He even sounded a little excited. Colding often wondered if the man saw Jian as a person or as a set of symptoms, just another scientific problem to be solved.
“Three nights in a row,” Colding said. “I can’t really say if they’re more intense.”
“Any hallucinations?”
“I don’t think so. Should you change her dosage again?”
Rhumkorrf shook his head. “No, we need to let the most recent change run its course, see if it corrects the situation before we introduce an additional variable.”
“But she’s sleeping less and less. I’m worried about her.”