Black (34 page)

Jacques de Raison had ushered them into this library, with its tall bookcases and a dozen high-backed black leather chairs positioned around a long mahogany table. Now he and Kara had the prodigious task of convincing this man that his true enemy was the Raison Strain, not Thomas Hunter.

Jacques'eyes dropped to a large bloodstain on the pocket of Tom's Lucky jeans. His shirt, which had been off at the time of his shooting, had been spared the carnage.

Tom took a deep breath. “The fact of the matter is, Mr. Raison, your daughter and I were attacked. I was shot and left for dead. Monique was taken by force.”

“You were left for dead,” the man said. “I can see that.”

Tom waved off his cynicism. “I clean up good. The man who shot me was the same person I was trying to protect your daughter from in the first place. I knew there was a potential problem. I tried to convince her of it, and when she refused, I forced her hand.”

“That's utter nonsense.”

“My five minutes aren't up. Just listen to me for a minute here. You may not like it, but I may be the only one who can save your daughter. Please listen.”

“Please, Mr. Raison,” Kara said evenly. “I told you before, this goes way beyond Thomas or Monique.”

“Yes, of course; the Raison Vaccine will mutate and infect untold millions.”

“No,” Tom said. “Billions.”

“Monique submitted the vaccine to the most ardent series of tests, I assure you.”

“But not to heat,” Tom said. “She told me that herself.”

“The fact is, you can't substantiate any of this,” Raison said. “You kidnap my daughter at gunpoint, and then you expect me to believe you did it for her own good. Forgive my suspicions, but I think it's more likely that you have her hidden away right now. At any moment I'll get a call from an accomplice demanding money.”

“You're wrong. What you will get is a call demanding either information or samples of the vaccine. Test it yourself. The virus mutates under extreme heat. How long would it take to confirm that?”

It was the first thing Tom had said that seemed to sink in.

“She is my only daughter,” he said. “There is nothing I love more. Do you understand this? I will do whatever it takes to bring her home safely.”

“So will I,” Tom said. “How long to test the vaccine?”

“You really do believe this? It's preposterous.”

“Then the tests will show that I'm wrong. If I'm right, then we know we have a very big problem. How long?”

“Two weeks under normal circumstances,” Raison said.

“Forget normal.”

“A week. There are a number of variables. Exact temperature, length of exposure, other external elements.”

“A week is too long, way too long!” Tom crossed to the long mahogany table and spun around. “If I'm right, just for the sake of argument, and they knew exactly how to initiate this mutation, how long would it take them to have a usable virus?”

“I can't answer—”

“Just pretend, Jacques. Best-case scenario, how long?”

He studied Tom. “Could be a couple of hours.”

“A couple of hours. I suggest either you start taking me at my word or you start your tests, because if you're right, God help us all.”

“Could take weeks. This is all impossible to believe.”

The phone on Raison's desk rang.

“Then you'd better do some soul-searching, because Monique's life rests in your ability to believe.”

The man stood and snatched up the phone. “Yes.” He was silent for five seconds. “Who is this? Who . . .” Silence. Fear spread through the man's eyes. “How will I know . . . hello?”

The phone went limp in his hand. “They've . . . they've given me seventy-two hours to turn over all our research and all existing samples of the vaccine, or they will kill her.”

Tom nodded. A lump gathered in his throat. “You'd better turn this facility into one giant testing lab. Twenty-four–seven. And you're going to need a lot more than the virus. You're going to need a new antivirus.”

24

T
he imminent threat posed to his daughter, Monique, seemed to wilt Jacques de Raison. Only at his urging did the Bangkok authorities agree to delay taking Thomas into custody. He would go, they promised. The French and the Americans were both breathing down their necks. But considering the fact that another party had evidently swooped in to take Monique, and
considering Tom's insistence that he might be able to help, they would keep him under house arrest in the mansion at Raison Pharmaceutical.

Tom spent an hour with Kara, working through their options. The most obvious solution to the entire mess was to recall the antivirus Teeleh had given Tom in his dreams. But half an hour of Kara's prying and another ten minutes of Tom beating his head against a metaphorical wall yielded nothing. His mind was simply blank on the details. In the end, only one plan made any sense to either of them.

“I need to talk to him,” Tom announced outside Raison's office.

“He is busy,” the guard said.

“Did you see the tape of the man who fought your two gate guards the other day?”

The guard paused. “You're threatening me?”

“No. I was wondering if you saw it. But yes, I am that man. Please, I really need to speak to him.”

The man looked Tom over. “One moment.” He poked his head in the door, asked a question, then pushed the door open.

Thomas walked in. Jacques de Raison looked up from his desk, haggard and distracted.

“Any progress?” Tom asked.

“I told you a week! Seventy-two hours? There's a much simpler solution to this. If I give them what they want, they will give me Monique. We will deal with them later, through the world courts.”

“Unless I'm right,” Tom said. “Unless by giving them everything you have, you severely hamper any attempt to produce an antidote to the Raison Strain.”

Raison slammed his fist on the desk. “There
is
no Raison Virus!”

“Monique will tell you differently when we find her. By then it will be too late.”

“Then I'll give them what they want and keep what I need to reproduce the vaccine.”

“If you give them what they want, it'll slow you down. The Raison Virus will do its work in three weeks.”

They faced off. Tom felt oddly resigned. There were only two things he could do now: Find Monique, who alone might be able to find a way out of the mess her vaccine would make, and prepare the world for the Raison Strain. Somehow he had to do both.

“Mr. Raison, I want you to consider something. I don't think they have any intention of releasing Monique anytime soon, even if you do meet their demands. She's too valuable to them. Alive. If I'm right—”

“If I'm right, if I'm right—how many times are you asking me to assume that you're right?”

“As many as it takes. If I'm right, the only way to get Monique back to safety is to go after her.” Tom sat in one of the leather chairs facing the man. “For that we need help. And there's one way to get help.”

“I have money, Mr. Hunter. If it's muscle we need—”

“No, we need more than a little muscle here. We need eyes and ears everywhere. And we need to be able to move quickly. For that we need governments. If I'm right—yes, I know, there I go again—the lid is going to blow off this whole thing in the next few days. I suggest we ease the pressure now and bring in some partners.”

He said it almost exactly the way he and Kara had rehearsed it. Actually, given a little space and the right training, he might make a pretty decent diplomat. Something he should take up with Tanis.

“What do you want me to do, inform the world that my vaccine is actually a deadly virus? It will kill the company. I would be better off to meet their demands.”

“I'm not suggesting you tell the world any such thing. Not yet.” Tom made the decision then, looking at the haggard man in front of him. “I'm suggesting you let me speak to a few key players confidentially.”

“You want me to put my company's future in your hands?”

“Your company's future is already in my hands. If I'm right, there won't be a company in the future. If I'm wrong, my claims will be written off as the ravings of a maniac, and your company will be just fine. Which is why I, not you, need to make selective contact with a few leaders. A call from you, admitting that your vaccine might be quite deadly, would require them to take certain actions. Raison Pharmaceutical would be dead and buried by morning. I, on the other hand, have more latitude. I don't officially represent Raison Pharmaceutical.”

The man was mulling over Tom's idea. “I'm not sure what you're asking.”

“I'm asking that you let me—assist me to—make contact with the outside world. My hands are tied without you. I'm in captivity here. Let me spill the beans about the danger the Raison Strain presents to the world. It will give them reason to throw some resources behind finding Monique. Nothing like a virus to motivate the right people.”

Tom knew by the look in Jacques de Raison's eyes that he was already warming to the idea. “I would have plausible deniability,” Raison said.

“Yes. I'll make the calls without your official endorsement. That will insulate you even while making an appeal for help.”

It was a flawless idea. He should've gone into politics.

“You're simply asking for the use of a phone? You can't just place calls to world governments and expect them to be answered.”

“I want to use your personal contacts. Only those approved by you, of course. The U.S. State Department, the French government, the British. Maybe Indonesia—they have a large population nearby. The point is, we need to convince a few people with resources to take the kidnapping of your daughter as more than an industrial espionage case. We need them to consider the possibility of risk to their own national security and help us find Monique.”

“And you really think I would let you do that?”

“I don't think you have a choice. This whole thing is about to hit the fan anyway. This gives us a chance. To warn the right people. To find Monique.”

Jacques de Raison went one step further than lending Tom use of his contacts and a phone. He lent his secretary, Nancy.

“Tell him that if he doesn't clear a line to the secretary in the next hour, I'm going to . . .” Tom paused, considering. “Whatever. Tell him I'm going to set off a nuke or something. Don't any of these people have the foresight to even
consider
that we could be in a bit of trouble here?”

Kara watched her brother pace. They'd been at it for five hours, and the results could hardly be worse. The French were not only hopeless but, in her thinking, downright rude. She'd expected much more cooperation from Raison's home country. Evidently their current administration wasn't excited about the fact that Raison Pharmaceutical had left France in the first place. They seemed interested enough in putting on a good face in this kidnapping mess, but when it came right down to getting a politician to break his schedule for a ten-minute phone call with Tom, all interest evaporated. It was a legal matter, they said.

The British had been a little more congenial. But the bottom line was still roughly the same. The Germans, the Italians, even the Indonesian government—no one was in the mood to listen to the rantings of a crazed prophet who'd kidnapped the woman in Bangkok.

Kara walked toward her brother. The fact that it was three in the morning didn't help matters much. He was practically sleepwalking. Then again, if he was right and this was the dream, he
was
sleepwalking.

“Thomas.” She rubbed his back. “You okay?”

He
tried to smile. “Not really. I've gone from being terrified that there's a comet coming to being horrified that no one believes there's a comet coming.”

“What do you expect? There's been a comet coming every year for two thousand years. It never lands. So now a twenty-five-year-old in jeans claims to live in his dreams, where he learns the world is about to end. He threatens to blow up the castle unless the king believes him. Why should the secretary of state break his meeting with the prince of Persia to take your call?”

“Thanks for the encouragement, sis.”

“Look, I know none of this matters if no one will listen, but there is another way, you know.”

He studied her face. They walked away from the desk. “You mean go back . . .”

“Well?” Kara said. “I know sleeping seems like the wrong thing here, but why not? For starters, if you don't sleep soon, you're going to fall into a coma anyway. And it's worked before, right? What if you could find out where she is?”

He shook his head. “This is different. The other stuff was a matter of histories. This is too specific. And like I said, I don't want to go back to the black forest, which is the only place I think I can get information.”