Forever (83 page)

In her laboratory aboard the
Chrysalis
, Dr Vassiltchikov was sitting in front of her
computer, which was directly linked by satellite to one of the CRAY
supercomputers at Si'tto da Veiga. At the moment, she was analysing
a single protein of a DNA molecule, a numerical sequence which took
up the entire screen of the monitor.

There had to be a way to clone this
sequence, or, better yet,

create it artificially.

She sighed to herself. The problem was, the
entire DNA molecule was composed of three billion of these data
bases. Just to peripherally study the entire strand, even with the
help of the supercomputers, would take a person an entire
lifetime.

She never failed to marvel at how huge that
infinitesimal strand of life was. So tiny, and yet, the key to life
itself.

Not for the first time she felt a pang of
regret. If only I'd submitted myself to the treatments. I'd still
have a lifetime . . . perhaps many lifetimes ... to continue my
research. But it was too late to begin them now. Ageing could be
arrested, yes. But the clock could not be turned back.

I couldn 't bear to be old forever.

I'd rather die.

In Sitto da Veiga, Eduardo was listening to
Luiz Medrado, who told him that Colonel Valerio's pilot had filed a
flight plan for Vitoria. That was when Eduardo knew the Colonel
must have taken his prisoners to Ilha da Borboleta.

Commandeering the nearest telephone, Eduardo
called the security compound on the island, but the call did not go
through.

'I am sorry, Senhor, but we are having
trouble on the line,' the operator told him.

Next, he tried Colonel Valerio's private
number, and it was the same story.

Finally, when the telephone at the
quinta
was also out of order, he called the
Chrysalis
and talked to his father. 'Is Colonel Valerio aboard?' Eduardo
asked without preamble.

His father replied, 'No, he and his men
remained behind when we evacuated the island.'

'You evacuated it! What in heaven's name
for?'

His father explained about Colonel Valerio's
warning of a possible terrorist attack. 'The Colonel is holding the
fort,' Ernesto told him.

'I see,' Eduardo said drily, and did.

Terrorists? he thought grimly. And Colonel
Valerio has the time to jet to Sitto da Veiga and back? He had to
hand it to the ex-Army man. It's as good a way as any to have the
island evacuated.

'I hope you're not thinking of flying
there,' Ernesto told his son. 'Whatever is happening on Ilha da
Borboleta right now could well be dangerous.'

Eduardo thought, More dangerous than you
think.

Fifteen minutes later, he was airborne
again. He hoped to God he would be in time.

TWENTY-FIVE

Ilha da Borboleta • Inflight

She was trapped in the jungle of her
nightmares, in a carnivorous landscape by Max Ernst. Stephanie soon
realised she couldn't keep plunging blindly through this dense
undergrowth of oititeiro trees and bamboo groves and cascading tree
ferns. Disturbing cloud after cloud of butterflies, sending them
swirling high into the sky to give away her position, was not the
way to survive. And if she continued like this, she would get lost
- was, in truth, already lost - and could easily end up running
around in circles, making herself an easy target for Colonel
Valerio, so he could pick her off quickly and neatly.

She felt the heat of anger rising within
her. If he wants to kill me, then he'll have to work for it, the
bastard! I'll be damned if I'll make it easier for him!

She slowed her panicked flight, forced
herself to think. She needed to rest. To take time out to
think.

How stupid, blundering like a stampeding
elephant, leaving behind a track a child could follow! Why don't I
send up flares to announce my whereabouts? And it had been sheer
folly to take off running without any sense of direction. She
needed to formulate a plan. If he keeps his word, I have half an
hour's head start. If he doesn't, he's right behind me.

Now then. Her foremost priority must be to
get over to the other side of the island. Yes. There, she would at
least be familiar with some of the territory.

And once there? What would she do then?
Where would she hide?

Suddenly the memory of the place pierced her
consciousness. Of course! Why didn't I think of it right away? For
there was a place where she knew the terrain - a place Colonel
Valerio might actually be unfamiliar with! Where there were no
video cameras, no alarms.

She recalled Eduardo saying, No one comes
here anymore except me. Everyone else seems to have forgotten about
it.. .

Yes, but had Colonel Valerio?

There was only one way to find out.

Colonel Valerio was in his element.

He took to this sport like a duck to
water.

Colonel Valerio was proud to belong among a
killer 61ite. One either had it in one's blood or one didn't. He
considered it a great gift. A talent. A calling. Like playing the
piano - only a lot more useful.

He sat on the ground in the shade, leaning
back against the security building. Taking it easy. Giving the
woman the half-hour lead he'd promised her.

From the looks of it, she'd need every
minute.

He chuckled to himself. Hell, the way she'd
gone thrashing into the jungle, you could see the trees moving half
a mile away!

The dumb bitch. She'd leave a trail
Helenfucking-Keller could have followed.

He peered over the tops of his shades,
looked down to the end of the firing range at her boyfriend. The
dumb fuck.

Pity to've had to mar him. But the wound
wasn't lethal, not if it was seen to in time. I'll get my chance to
hunt him yet.

But using him as a demonstration had been
sheer inspiration. Had brought the bitch to her senses. Got her on
the run. If this'd been the desert, you could've seen the clouds of
dust she'd have left behind.

He glanced at the nonreflective dial of his
wristwatch. Thirty minutes had passed. Time to get a move on.

He unfolded his legs, got to his feet,
shouldered his bow.

Cracked a rictus of a grin.

Let the games begin.

Stephanie had clamped a lid on her panic,
had calmed down enough to think clearly, positively, creatively.
Now she knew what she had to do. Yes.

Do the unexpected.

Take your cues from him, blend into the
background the way he does. Do as the chameleon - disappear in
plain sight. Change your colours and your spots.

Savagely, she tore at the elastic crew neck
of her dark sweater. The cotton/wool blend cut into the soft flesh
of her fingers, resisting her efforts to tear. Oh, for a pocket
knife, she thought yearningly.

She gave the crew neck a particularly fierce
tug and then, with a triumphant ripping sound, rent it loose from
around her neck.

She slipped the elastic crew neck around her
head, using it as a headband.

A positive first step.

Squatting down, she dug her fingers into the
dank dark earth. Quickly, she scooped up a handful of the rich
black soil and spat on it. She needed mud. Moist, sticky mud.

Change your colours and your spots. Do as
the chameleon - disappear in plain sight.

Words to live by. To stay alive by.

Fighting words . . .

She smeared the mud liberally over her face,
slathering the front and back of her neck, scooped up more mud and
spat on it and rubbed it into her white tennis shoes. He'll be
looking for a pale complexion, she reminded herself. Make certain
no pink skin shows.

More mud. More spit. She blackened her
wrists and the backs of her hands.

Then she stood up and looked around. She
found what she wanted right away and pushed her way slowly,
cautiously, through the dense vegetation to the bush with large,
serrated waxy leaves. She selected carefully, instinctively parting
the outer branches and snapping off inside leaves, where what she'd
done wouldn't be immediately noticeable.

Some of the leaves she stuck into her
headband, a few inside her torn neckline, some more inside her
waistband. There. Now she would blend in better with her
surroundings.

Let him search for a panicked woman on the
run, she thought. It won't be me.

Suddenly she felt a chill.

A silent, startled flock of butterflies
swirled around her, enveloped her in a cloud, and was gone.

Stephanie knew what must have sent them into
flight.

He was coming.

Best I get a move on.

*

Twenty-five-thousand feet above the Amazon,
the co-pilot of the Sabreliner made his way aft and stopped at
Eduardo's seat. 'I'm afraid I've got some bad news, Senhor,' he
said quietly.

Eduardo looked up at him. 'What is it?'

'We're flying directly into a strong
headwind. It's going to change our ETA.'

Eduardo sighed. 'How much is it going to
slow us down?'

'By at least half an hour, Senhor.'

'Damn.' Eduardo shut his eyes. He thought,
Monica, Monica, I'm on my way . . .

For the time being, at least, Stephanie
thought she had lost him.

A breeze had sprung up, rippling the leaves
of the vine-strangled jacarandas and oititeiros and Bertholletia
trees. She moved with the speed of the breeze, barely visible among
the wild hibiscus and tree ferns and stands of bamboo.

Stephanie heard only the rustling of leaves,
an occasional slithering in the underbrush, and her own tense
breathing and quiet footsteps. She tried to guess how long she'd
been on the move now, but she had no idea. It hadn't occurred to
her to check the time when she'd first started running. All she
knew was that it seemed like hours.

But it can't have been . . . can it?

Then the trees and vegetation ended so
abruptly that she almost blundered out onto the manicured lawn. She
barely stopped herself in time. She parted the branches carefully
and peered out.

There it was, just on the other side of the
placid green pond with its cupolaed temple. The
quinta
with
its arches and loggias and blue-and-white tiles and orange
roofs.

'Hey! Merlin!'

Everything inside her went numb. The
bastard! He'd been waiting here! Expecting her to be lured by the
deceptive safety and familiarity of the
quinta
l Even as she
reeled instinctively backwards, she caught sight of him. He was
crouched in front of a shrub near the pond, blending in almost
perfectly with its branches. His bow was raised, an arrow poised
-

-And me lined up in his sights! Shit!

She dived hard to the left, twisting
diagonally through the air the same instant he launched, and the
breath whooshed out of her as she hit the ground and rolled. She'd
heard the arrow whistle,

felt its slipstream brushing past her face.
Then it thudded noisily into a tree - blasting pieces of bark and
splinters in all directions.

Jee-sus! she thought, staring up at it. And
even as she turned back to him and saw him unhurriedly stringing
another arrow into his bow, she caught sight of the white-daubed
stone beside her. The stone! she thought jubilantly. One of the
stones Eduardo painted as a child. One of the stones that shows the
way to the grotto!

Swiftly, she rolled over several more times,
disappeared from Colonel Valerio's scope, and melted back into the
jungle. Following the stones to the one place she thought of as her
turf.

TWENTY-SIX

At Sea

Zaza glowed. It was impossible to miss it.
She was in one of her rare and special hostess moods. Chatty,
charming, amusing, hospitable, full of love and joie de vivre. She
delighted in dragging out the mystery, giving no clue as to what
her surprise announcement might be. Meanwhile, the sense of mystery
added spice and fascination and anticipation to the lunch, brought
brightness to the eye and flushes to the cheeks. Lili and Ernesto
basked in the old lady's effervescent attentions, while two
handsome young white-gloved stewards served minute portions of
grilled squid, white Belgian asparagus, and spinach with raisins
and pine nuts.

And adding to the perfection of this tableau
vivant, Lili Schneider's superb renditions of the lesser-known
works of Mozart played in the background: Vorrei Spiegarvi, Oh
Dio!; Exsultate, Jubilate; L'Amero Sard Costante . . .

How exquisitely it shimmered, the voice, so
unearthly magical and thematically pure that each note was an
ornament from heaven itself.

How effortlessly the vocal flourishes seemed
to climb and plunge and rise and caress, only to climb, ever
higher, again!

Like chimeras, they sifted through the
conversation and the laughter, these glorious bursts of song.

Zaza waited until the lunch plates were
cleared and the dessert plates laid and the torte was set on the
table.

'None for me,' said Lili automatically.

'Nor me.' Ernesto shook his head, waved away
his plate.

'LieblingsV Zaza cried, 'I insist you try
the dessert! Just a mere sliver -

She showed them just how tiny a sliver by
parting her thumb and forefinger.

' - to celebrateV she added, raising her
water glass to her lips, its facets catching the candlelight and
flashing rainbows over the walls and ceiling and her face. She
looked over its rim. 'I instructed the chef myself, you know. And
iced it myself.' She paused and smiled dreamily and kissed her
fingertips.

'Not MandeltorteV Lili exclaimed softly.

'Yes!' Zaza cried, her eyes warm with a
distant memory, holding Lili's. 'Your favourite . . . the way I
used to make it for you long ago. Errinnerst DuP. Do you
remember?'

'How could I forget?' Lili laughed wih
delight. 'And how can I refuse?' She shook her head
nostalgically.'Mandeltorte! But Zaza! You have not told us what we
are celebrating.'