Unacceptable Risk (23 page)

When Michael was nine, his mother died and he returned to Ithaca to live with his father. From talking with Michael, Sam had discerned that most of Michael's memories of the Finger Lakes region were indistinct, as though earlier memories were crowded out of his mind by Amazonia. For an eleven-year-old boy the culture shock of the deep jungle must have been incredible.

Michael gaped at the sheer number and enormity of the buildings, the volume of vertical concrete and brick placed on more concrete and steel.

"Amazing, huh?" Grady said.

"If there is some evolutionary advantage to all of this, it escapes me. Unlike the ants or the bees, it seems to me that all this jamming-people-together in buildings would increase danger to the individual. The benefits of commerce obviously outweigh the hazards."

"We Americans are in a frenzy to do something. When we don't know what to do, we work. I guess this is the result," Sam said.

Michael found the Gramercy Park bed-and-breakfast oddly cluttered with knickknacks seemingly placed with great care. There were cookies and tea, silver urns, hushed silence—or at most half-whispered tones—and fabrics that all seemed to sleep. The place offered little for a man accustomed to trekking in the jungle, fishing catfish for dinner, and having a good chew of coca before hitting the hammock.

He did notice an unusual brightness in Grady's eyes when she looked at him. He couldn't recall ever seeing a woman with a better body. But he was confused at her relationship with Sam. (Robert had explained that his nickname was Sam and Michael was only now getting used to the new name.) He was also bewildered now that he had seen Sam with Anna. Obviously, Michael's place was in the Amazon and a woman like Grady would not last there, so any alliance would probably be temporary and he wasn't sure how she might feel about a short-term romance. Much less himself. He still was not over the shock of losing Eden and then Marita.

Still, Grady was long-legged and blond, with a narrow waist and high, firm bust. Her eyes shone with such a striking shade of azure that Michael wondered if it was some modern contrivance. But it was her glances, and her strong Slavic face, the high cheekbones, and especially the expressive lips, neither full nor thin, that piqued his desire. From the moment he had seen her in the jungle, he had concluded that she was an astonishment as females go. Even when he was half sick, he had wanted to grab her and plaster his lips to hers. He suspected that this uncommon rage to copulate was due in part to all the carnage he had just left—a coping mechanism that would enable the mind to let go of the pain and depression of death.

The desire remained in him here, but he kept it behind a controlled and seemingly placid exterior. Michael determined that in the fashion of a civilized man, this desire was best ignored, at least for the moment.

After Sam advised the proprietor that they wished to extend their stay, they made their way upstairs. Anna went with Sam, although Michael understood that she was staying at her own apartment. At the second floor Sam paused and gathered them around. They stood in a mezzaninelike area the size of the parlor with a well-furnished library. Behind a balustrade, which made a large oval around the staircase, were the doors to various rooms. Fresh flowers stood under a gilt-framed mirror.

"I'd suggest you stay around here. Let people come to you."

Michael appreciated Sam's concern but bridled at it just the same. "I have no problem with your bodyguards if they have the courage to go with me. But I will do my work. And that is the end of the discussion."

"But, Michael, we talked...." Grady began.

"I said I would be careful. That is all I said." He paused. "I don't mean to be rude."

She nodded and turned toward her room.

As Michael entered his, he turned and his eyes found Grady's across the way. It pleased him to see her eyes searching for his. They both closed their doors in a slow, synchronous movement, accompanied by an unmistakable smile. But he hadn't missed the worry behind the smile.

A maiden's eyes are a club to the young man's head, her lips a snare for his neck.

—Tilok proverb

Benoit sat at her desk in the government lab approving invoices from suppliers and coordinating the delivery of lab supplies, as well as supervising all of the clerical help. It was growing to be a substantial job and she had only been at it for eleven days, but her mind wasn't in it.

Unlike other lab offices, hers came equipped with a couple of guards, although the real security lay in the fact that there were only two exits in the whole building and she was not allowed through either without a full escort, and she had to be in shackles.

Her phone rang. The admiral.

"I have grown to anticipate your calls," she began. "Have you considered my suggestion that we meet for tea?"

"I am considering it. Baptiste certainly thinks it would be counterproductive."

"Yes. Well, you will have to consider whether that is how you want to run your agency—always relying on secondhand information."

"It seems I'm getting it firsthand over the phone."

"You know what they say about looking into a person's eyes."

"I know what they say about looking into your eyes," Larive parried.

"What do they say?"

"They say that you are bewitching."

"That would be my ass, not my eyes. But, of course, you have never seen my ass."

"Perhaps one day we will remedy that."

"Not as long as you are too politic to meet me for tea."

"What can you tell me to encourage me about the project?" Larive cut to the point.

"I can tell you that if you do some hard and daring things, you will win the vector technology and Chaperone for France. I have been telling you this for some time."

"Yes, and you want to meet with me to explain it."

"That is right," Benoit acknowledged.

"And you do not want to tell Baptiste."

"That is right because he cannot approve what needs to be done. We must contact people that I can best contact. We must make deals. You will need to let me out of here in order to accomplish what you want."

"That would be extraordinary," Larive remarked.

"It would be temporary, only until I have earned a pardon from the French government."

"Tell me more of what you would do."

"With all due respect, I could think better and be much more forthcoming if we were speaking in private and I could see you and be assured that you have my interests in mind."

"In other words you once again request a personal meeting."

Benoit smiled.

Admiral Larive attempted to suck in his gut with marginal results. He was standing sideways to a full-size mirror in his office that he used to judge his suits. Unfortunately, he had quit the hard workouts and his belly sagged over his belt. Off and on throughout the morning he had imagined what it would be like to take tea with Benoit Moreau.

Five minutes before the appointed time he arrived at the hotel. That morning he had put on new boxer shorts and undershirt. Although he had wanted a haircut, there hadn't been time. He had taken extra pains shaving and cut the hair out of his ears and he had vigorously gone after his long, dark nose hairs. Outside the door there were guards and they opened it to reveal Benoit Moreau in chains with another guard.

"You may take off the chains, for God's sake, we're having tea."

"Sorry, sir, but it's regulation. We never take the chains off unless ordered, so I gather you're giving me that order."

"Yes, yes. Come on, man, she works in an office."

"Begging your pardon, sir, but it is a very secure office, much more secure than this hotel room."

They removed the chains and handed him a key, then left to take up positions in the hallway outside the room.

He and Benoit sat down at the table in the middle of the large suite near glass doors that opened onto a balcony. Green and gold draperies were pulled nearly across the doorway. On the table was a plate of French pastries, but he wasn't sure about taking one. He knew that fat in quantity could interfere with Viagra and he didn't want anything diminishing his potency.

Her hair was dark brown, and soft like a feather boa, her face unmarked by age. She looked younger than her thirty-eight years. If she slept with him, he told himself, she would need a very good reason. He knew as he sipped his tea that such a reason would no doubt be very bad for him. Strangely, he could not rise from the table and leave.

"I will get right to the point. There are things you should know in addition to the things I have told you on the phone." She obviously enjoyed his undivided attention. "These are things that I have not told anyone, not even Baptiste." She turned in her chair and he noticed that her blouse was not buttoned to the top and with the angle he could see some cleavage. "Baptiste does not have your stature. I do, however, like him." She sipped her tea and his curiosity about her information was getting to him. "I miss the women's magazines. Baptiste brings me one or two...."

"What would you like?"

"Cosmopolitan
in English and
Vogue,
also in English. I like to practice the language."

"It will be done."

"I miss lingerie, you know. Do you like lingerie? I mean as opposed to just nudity. Most men, of course, enjoy a nude woman."

"I like lingerie. Yes. But I think you toy with me."

"Of course I do. That is why you came here. I am very good at it. Would you choose for me some elegant lingerie, a long white silken robe and buy it for me?"

"Yes. I think so."

"I would like that. You seem a wise man and they say you are good with money."

"Who says?"

"Friends. The same friends who say that you are going to be appointed a minister."

"These are your friends in
le Senat? "
Larive commented.

"I hardly have friends in
le Senat.
These are staff people of the people in
le Senat."

"I hear otherwise."

"Well, that is flattering. You may continue to think such good thoughts of me."

"You are an intriguing woman."

"Men find that I am intriguing. Many women find me unacceptable. Those are usually the women whose husbands want to sleep with me."

"And what do the husbands think?"

"They are attracted to any beautiful stranger. The more mysterious, the better. They cannot help it. I guess it is like a disease in a way."

"You are more attractive than your explanation allows."

"You are a very astute man. But intelligence is definitely not an antidote for what you crave. Is it?"

"No. It is nothing more than an annoyance where my loins are concerned."

"You put it very well. You can see it happening to you, watch it unfold, but still you are drawn. And I think it is not bad at all. It is just the way you feel and sometimes a person should live in the moment."

"My grandmother would have said that this is Satan's lie." He allowed himself a smile.

"My feet are cold. Would you like to rub them for me?"

"Of course."

"Let me sit on the bed and take off my stockings." She wore parity hose and pulled up her skirt to take them off. She wore the slimmest of underwear, a thong, and her butt was beautiful—even with the quick glimpse. The thong was tiny in front; she obviously trimmed her pubic hair. When she sat down, she let her skirt ride high, but he could no longer see her upper thighs and it frustrated him. Then he felt a slight sense of panic. He knew it was happening, but the reality of it was like a drug rushing through his body. This woman was a criminal. Although his reputation was immense he had been faithful to his wife for two years. An old almost forgotten anxiety came over him. When she had herself situated, he knelt and began a foot rub. The irony of being on one knee did not escape him nor did the physical discomfort.

"What is it that you were going to tell me?" Larive broke the silence.

"It is more than telling you something. It is something we can do together."

"What is that?"

"We could save the United States from a disaster and obtain Chaperone and the vector technology for France. All at once."

"Save the United States from what?"

"What Devan Gaudet is planning. He calls it Cordyceps." Benoit was full of information.

"What is Cordyceps?"

"I'm not sure yet. But I can imagine." She told him the story of Cordyceps and the beetle.

"Intriguing," the admiral said. "I've noticed that your plans hinge on your going to the United States."

"Because Georges Raval understands Chaperone and I understand Georges," she explained.

"Have you told this to Baptiste?"

"Of course. He lacks imagination, though. Would you like me to take off my skirt? It appears that you cannot see whatever it is you are trying to look at."

"You are very beautiful."

"Do you want the skirt off or not? You are a shy boy. I don't know how you ever get what you want." She stood and unzipped her skirt, letting it drop to the floor, then sat again.

He wondered about her blouse. It would be very good if she took that off as well. And the panties.

"I need to go to the United States and see Raval's aunt in New York. This must be in person. She knows me and will send a message to Georges or tell me how to find him. I will explain that France owns Chaperone, which he knows, and I will tell him how he can make some money by helping the rightful owner. In the end, though, we must go through Gaudet."

"Why through Gaudet?"

"I've been at work for a couple of days now, as you know. It's obvious to me already that our lab does not really understand the vector technology. We are altering brain cells, but not in the correct patterns. Our scientists don't understand the promoter DNA sequences. The sum of it, without getting too technical, is that we do not get well-defined and predictable mood alteration from modification of cells in the limbic system. Gaudet does much better, as we have seen. All he lacks is Chaperone, which enables the subjects to live with the brain alteration. His scientists clearly understand the technology. So I will get Gaudet to sell you his lab, all the Grace Technologies papers and research, and give you leads to hiring all of his employees as part of the deal."

"That makes some sense." Larive was impressed by this gorgeous, conniving woman.

"Now for the second reason I need to go to the States. I need to work with Gaudet and I know he is there. I can talk with him. I believe that he trusts me sufficiently to tell me about Cordyceps. He won't be able to resist bragging to me because we were lovers for over a year. He will believe I have come back to him."

"It's the right thing to do, obviously, stopping this Cordyceps. But why should we risk Chaperone when it's the U.S.'s ass that's on the line. Just to play devil's advocate," Larive proposed.

"If the U.S. markets go, Europe will go with them."

"I suppose to some extent that is true."

"More important, you need a relationship with the U.S. so you must be seen as cooperating. Appearance is everything. So are relationships. Of course, if for some reason we fail to stop Cordyceps, there is a fortune to be made."

"What?" This woman continually surprised him.

She outlined Gaudet's plan to short the market and also to invest in gold stocks and gold bullion so that money would be made when the market fell. She explained how it could be done.

"There is another thing I need to tell you." She appeared to be on a confessing jag.

"Yes?"

"Baptiste plans to make a deal for a five-million-dollar kickback from Gaudet and to use that money to short the market himself. He will make a fortune if Cordyceps goes forward."

"I don't believe you."

"Well, you'd better because it is true. Did he tell you what he learned from a Turkish prisoner by the name of Alfawd?"

"I never heard of Alfawd," Larive replied.

"Well, you should have." Then as the admiral sat dumbfounded, she told him all that Baptiste had learned about the investment group and Gaudet's tests of the technology with Sam's neighbors and at Northern Lights.

"Did Baptiste tell you that Figgy Meeks accidentally killed an associate of the man they call Sam and that he then, at Baptiste's direction, made it look like Gaudet by gutting the man, as Gaudet often does?" She was relentless in her disclosures.

"This could implicate the French government. It's a disaster." Larive nearly moaned.

"Yes, and apparently the autopsy showed the heart still beating when he was gutted."

Larive groaned.

"I could fix that too with Gaudet. I could provide testimony that one of Gaudet's men did it. A man who is now dead."