"I better check that, then."
"Let me do it, ma'am."
"That's very kind of you, officer." Livvie smiled. "Thank you so much."
Ian watched as the trooper fixed the light, sobered by how much there was still to learn about people. Livvie could act, and when she smiled, men obeyed. In five minutes the lights were working again. Livvie drove out of the gas station, giving the officer a little girly wave with fluttering fingers.
They were a hundred yards up the road and heading back towards Westerham Falls before she let out a long breath.
"Well, fuck, Ian, that scared me" Sometimes she swore like a sailor. Now she was Regular Livvie again, in control and tolerating lesser mortals. And she's carrying a Glock. Oh my God. "I thought it was KWA. Sorry I scared you."
"I didn't know you had your gun. And you can act."
"No point pissing off the rozzers, as Rob would say. Still, it was nice of him to fix the light." She gave Ian another sideways glance. "I've never actually seen you morph that much before. Do you want to take a look?"
She gave him an odd smile. Ian felt crushed. He'd been sure he'd learned to stop it in its tracks. But he was back to square one, a million miles away from a driving licence and a girlfriend. He reached out and folded down the sun visor.
The small rectangle of inset mirror showed him someone new. He could still see himself behind the eyes, but he was darker, more square-jawed, and even a little older. It was disorienting after a month of stability.
And how long am I going to hang on to this face?
Livvie pulled off the road at a rest area and took out her cell. "Come on, look at me. Look at the lens." The phone made a shutter noise. "There. For the record."
"I don't know what I'm going to do, Livvie."
"Can I make a suggestion?"
"Please."
"You really want to be built like Rob, don't you? You train like crazy and you keep checking your muscles."
That was beyond embarrassing. Ian cringed. "Yes. Sure I do."
"You said that you should focus on what you wanted to look like, not just on stopping changes."
"Yeah, but I don't know what I want. Other than to just stay the same."
"Well, stay like this." She held up the phone so he could see the screen. "Take it from a woman. You look really good like that. It's definitely you."
Was that what women liked? "But I couldn't hang on to the last change."
"Seriously." Livvie scanned his face, breaking into a smile. "I think this is what you're meant to look like."
"Really?"
"You study that face, Ian. Make sure you know every contour. Concentrate on how it feels to be in that skin. Whatever else happens, make sure you know how to get back to looking like that."
Ian kept the visor mirror in his eyeline all the way home. It was good advice, but there was nothing precise in it, nothing like knowing he had to crank out ten more reps with an extra ten pounds, or check how much protein per pound of bodyweight he'd eaten that day. All he had was Livvie telling him that this look was somehow special. He had to admit that it was great to be admired, even temporarily. He felt good about how he looked right then. Apart from being delighted with his new hard-won muscles, he'd never felt that kind of happy before.
He'd remember that feeling every time he looked in the mirror, though.
VANCOUVER, SEPTEMBER
ONE WEEK LATER.
Kinnery peeled the Blu Tack from the beady eye of webcam and saw himself on his own monitor for the first time.
It was only a test run for one video call. He wasn't going to make a habit of this. The rehearsal was to check what was visible behind him on his study wall and in the bookcases that flanked him, but inevitably the shortcomings of his own appearance dragged him back to his face, and what it revealed to him rather than to the person on the other end.
This wasn't like looking in a mirror, where a benevolent mental filter kicked in. The web cam threw back a stranger's perspective that wasn't moderated by self-image at all.
Kinnery had expected to look old. That didn't surprise him. It was the look of wasted years that made him recoil.
The stark light from the window threw deep shadows. Switching on the desk lamp evened out the illumination and erased some folds and lines, but the miles on his clock still showed, the ones added by waiting to be found out and by wasting the astonishing research potential of Ian Dunlop.
We're back to the punishment cycle of the Greek gods. I get my just desserts before I go to Hades.
Kinnery snapped himself out of it and scrutinized everything else in shot. When he watched TV interviews and the backdrop was an interesting bookcase, he found himself trying to check out the titles on the spines, making a judgement about the person who'd collected them. Were there any telltale signs of his wrongdoing behind him? One detail, one single book about child development or something out of character, might stand out in that mass and pique Shaun's curiosity.
Kinnery didn't have time to censor the shelves selectively. He got up and cleared them, stacking the books in piles on the floor and removing photos and certificates from the wall. Then he sat down and adjusted his position to frame up correctly, checking the screen again. His backdrop was now stark emptiness and dark rectangles where the wallpaper had faded around the picture frames. It spoke volumes about him, but in a wholly different way.
He replaced the Blu Tack, incapable of relaxing in front of the webcam even when it was switched off, and went back to clearing his e-mail. Students expressed disappointment that he'd be leaving after the holidays. They seemed to think he was on his last legs. He was only in his sixties. Maybe he'd overplayed the old age card.
Thinking of the Greeks set him off on other belief systems. What would the Egyptian gods have done with him? If they'd weighed his heart against the feather to assess his sins, would it have tipped the scales? He examined those sins for himself. Ian appeared to be thriving, although Kinnery still only had Leo's word for that. He was under the protection of a wealthy family who could make pretty well anything happen for him, right down to buying him his own island if isolation was what he wanted. Maggie might have surrendered her life to some other cause if she hadn't been handed a child nobody else could be trusted to look after. His wife was better off for divorcing him. Maybe his victims had clawed back some benefit, then. He hoped so.
Kinnery checked his watch, peeled the Blu Tack off the webcam, and sat rolling the soft ball between his fingers while he waited. He tested the recording software a few times. He had to remember to click that icon when he picked up the call.
So should I keep sending Ian money? What's the etiquette on reimbursing billionaires?
Shaun's call came in just after 11 a.m. local time. Kinnery was pretty sure they'd never return to the days when they'd been best friends, excited about the future and how they could shape it. But he could at least try to be civilized. He hit the recording icon and then clicked to answer.
"Hi Charles," Shaun said. "How's it going?"
Shaun always looked relaxed, but today he seemed to have something else about him. Maybe it was the webcam. Kinnery wasn't used to seeing him from the low angle of a laptop.
"I think I can agree a January start date," Kinnery said. "I'm going to be looking for real estate in the area, but in the meantime, I'll plan to stay in Lansing for a few weeks at a time to avoid that god-awful flight."
"Well, the deal with Halbauer was signed two days ago, so it's full steam ahead. It's a new lease of life for both of us, I think."
"So what did you want to discuss today?"
"Strange how the intervening years just vanish, isn't it? I won't say it's like old times. But you know what I mean." Shaun had a vague smile on his face. "Talking of old times, you knew Maggie Dunlop at Lomax, didn't you?"
Kinnery had prepared for this for nearly twenty years. He knew the Maggie question was likely if Dru Lloyd had managed to show up at the ranch. But it still had the impact of a brick
being thrown through the window.
Jesus Christ, haven't you got what you wanted, you bastard? You've got some nerve for a man who hacked my phone. Maybe I should kick this into touch and call the cops, just for the fun of seeing you tell a court that you think I made a shape-shifter.
Okay, this stops now.
"I do remember a Maggie," Kinnery said. "Not on my course, though."
"Charles, I know she died in July, which isn't an insignificant date in the scheme of things. I'm not stupid. I know what you did."
I doubt it. Kinnery attempted weary impatience. "Shaun, what did I say last time we touched on this?"
"As I said, if you'd made an actual shape-shifter like they claimed, I'd want your autograph. And I'd want to lock you into sharing the profits with me."
"Exactly." Kinnery was sure that Shaun was recording this too. He'd be naive not to, and Shaun probably hadn't been naive since his first day at kindergarten. "So where is this bullshit going?"
"I don't believe you created a live specimen. You're brilliant, but not that brilliant. And it would have taken accomplices and years of staggering track-covering. But I do believe you had a mule, and maybe that mule showed some changes. That's what's worth money, Charles. It's company property, and I'll do whatever it takes to get it back."
So you don't know after all. You're bluffing. Now watch someone who really knows how to lie, you amateur.
Kinnery let himself look cornered. "Okay, just tell me how you identified Maggie." Every word had to be precise now. If he appeared to confess when any sensible person would have assumed the call was being recorded, Shaun wouldn't swallow the lie. It had to look deniable. "I hope you didn't harass her."
"Well, once we noticed that lonely Seattle number, we just rang around your old class asking about students who had a Washington connection. Someone remembered Maggie and her folks' ranch. It went from there."
The simplicity of the lead deflated Kinnery. He should have worked that out. Never mind: Shaun had admitted his own sin.
Say it, Shaun. Say it so I can record it again. "You hacked my goddamn phone records."
"I've already apologized for that. I didn't order it."
Gotcha. Thank you. "You're damn well trying to exploit it, though."
"So now I know, tell me. I won't go to the authorities. I'm compromised by my own employees breaking the law, and if this experiment gets out, it won't do either of us any good. Did the leak to The Slide have anything to do with Maggie's death? Was it the gene therapy? Did she even know what you put into her?"
It was the perfect set-up for a neatly-folded, all-encompassing lie, almost too easy, but Kinnery had to remind himself that Shaun had infinite patience. If he still had suspicions, he'd pursue it for another twenty years if he had to.
"Which question do you want me to answer first?"
"I'm not in a hurry, Charles. Feel free to be expansive."
"Okay," Kinnery said. "If you want to keep this fantasy going, here's a hypothetical scenario. Imagine Maggie agreed to be treated, so that someone could either preserve the engineered genes where nobody would be able to look for them, or just test what happened in a live human subject. Let's say she confided in someone she shouldn't have, but swore that person to secrecy. Then she died unexpectedly, natural causes, and that grieving friend, for some dumb reason I can't imagine, decided he couldn't do Maggie any harm by sharing what he thought he remembered with some hack who'd listen to a crazy story. That covers the bases for this fairy tale, I think."
Shaun just sat there, fingers meshed again. "Did Maggie exhibit dynamic mimicry?"
"How could she? It's just a theory to amuse you."
"The Slide suggests the subject was a young man."
Goddamn. Kinnery knew he should have been ready for that. It wasn't as if he didn't know that Dru Lloyd had found Ian's name, too. She must have told Weaver. Kinnery had to assume that she had.
"The Slide suggested a lot of crazy things, Shaun, but we've never seen their source material, have we?"
"I'd be very keen to recover this material if I thought you'd made those genes express in a human subject."
"Is that an offer?"
"No, but I can recover things discreetly if I have to. Off the books, shall we say. Remove the biohazard to a remote site, for public safety. I'd always know where you were, though."
It took Kinnery a few moments to decode that odd turn of phrase. Yes, that was a threat. Shaun never banged tables. I will hunt down your mule, and if I can't find him, then I'll come after you. Kinnery understood perfectly.
"Maggie was cremated," Kinnery said. "So whether she was a mule or she turned into the Easter Bunny, there'd still be nothing to recover. You really do believe this crap, don't you?"
"Once I get an idea in my head, I find it hard to shake off. Forgive me. Just a bad habit. I'm sure that if you had anything substantial to show me, you'd do it so we could both take advantage of it without any unfortunate publicity."
And that was another threat, not so oblique this time. Kinnery remembered what Leo had said and turned it back on Shaun.
"Yes, I'm fully aware that I'm working for the old firm again, so any dirt that sticks to me would also stick to you and your nice new company. God forbid that should ever happen." He wasn't sure how far Shaun would go to get his goods back. He had to assume the worst. "Like I say, it didn't happen, but if it had, that's how it might have panned out."
Think what'll happen if you pull the pin, buddy. Think what else you might lose. You don't know if I kept all that research you seem to think I've been doing for someone else, do you?
Shaun smiled almost convincingly. "I believe we have one another's balls in a firm grip, then, Charles."
"Good. I do so like an honest relationship. Are we done now?"
Kinnery wanted agreement that now he'd confessed – after a fashion – the matter would be closed. He'd effectively told Shaun he'd stolen KWA property, but there was now no evidence left to show it had ever happened. He'd salted the lie with enough truth to make it easy to swallow.
"I don't think Zoe Murray's going to pursue it," Shaun said, evasive to the last word. "File it under paranormal bullshit stories. So, January. Are we going to see you before then for the holidays?"
"Why not?" Kinnery said. "It'd be good to catch up."
When Kinnery clicked to end the call, he put the Blu Tack back over the webcam and disabled it. He'd have to send a copy of the call to Leo to cover his ass. But Shaun had been made to understand the situation: he'd done some illegal things, and so had Kinnery, and KWA wouldn't come out of it cleanly if the facts were made public. They were now shackled together in such a way that neither could betray the other, like a couple of unhappy bank robbers.
And I'll just make the best of being back with KWA. At least I can watch Shaun sweat. Happy, Leo?
It was Kinnery's bad luck that this had involved Leo Brayne and not some normal politician who could be bought or blackmailed. The idealistic rich were more dangerous and unpredictable than a terrorist with a nuke. It was just as well that there weren't many of them.
Kinnery encrypted the audio file and mailed it to Leo with a covering note about student gratitude for a scholarship from one of the Brayne foundations. It was probably time to change phones and SIMs again, too. He'd pick something up the next time he travelled out of Vancouver. Security had come to rule his life. What was it Mike Brayne called it, in that Newspeak kind of jargon the military favoured? Opsec – operational security – and persec, personal security, which boiled down to keeping your mouth shut and looking over your shoulder, situational awareness to use another of his phrases. Kinnery replaced the books on the shelves and put the pictures back on the hooks in the wall.
Checking his locked desk drawer to ensure the encrypted thumb drive was still there had become a twice-daily nervous habit. He really couldn't let it go, could he? Shaun knew him too well. There was enough information on there, if anyone could decrypt it, to at least find some
clues to Ian's origins, and anyone with time on their hands, anyone tenacious and not too choosy about how they acquired information, could probably even narrow down the range of who might be Ian's biological parents. It was hard to tell if the information would have any bearing on why Ian had turned out the way he did, but someone with plenty of resources might even be able to identify one or both of them.
Dru Lloyd certainly met the tenacity requirement, if she was the one who'd done all the leg work. What galled Kinnery was how low tech all this had been. Except for the call log, everything had been excavated from the dirt of time by phone calls, deduction, and simple human observation. He needn't have worried about being watched and analysed by countless spy cameras at all. Then something drifted back to him.
Damn. Maggie's number. I should have said something to Shaun when he explained how they narrowed down the geographical search. I should have mentioned lucky coincidence. I should have dismissed the connection. Too late. Well, he's got what he wants now, and his worst suspicions have been confirmed. It's done.
And the bastard doesn't believe I could create a human capable of dynamic mimicry. Pity I'll never be able to ram that down his throat.
All Kinnery could do now was get on with his life and wait for Leo's reaction.
He certainly got it. Three hours later, Leo called. They almost had a private language now, a grammar of euphemism and avoidance that made the calls short, impenetrable, and potentially misunderstood.
"I told you to keep your powder dry, didn't I?"
Leo could never manage a "hi." He wasn't a discourteous man. It was almost as if he couldn't trust himself not to say Charles as an automatic follow-on and reveal a degree of familiarity if anyone was eavesdropping.
"Shaun's made a few veiled threats about hunting down and exacting revenge, but I think we've reached the point of mutually assured misery," Kinnery said.
"Rash. Very risky."
"No, it's based on a lifetime of watching him. He'll back off."
"Don't get sloppy because you think you know better."
"I'm not the one who leaked it," Kinnery said. And I was always smarter than him. "Don't forget that."