chapter twenty nine

Star Wars

At an extreme point on the perimeter of Logan Airport there were still a few flowers flicked by the breeze at the foot of the monument that commemorated World Airlines flight 30. The pilot had heroically steered the plane manually off the runway when it had overshot the iced strip, and guided it into Hudson Bay to avoid a catastrophic encounter with the light pier. All had survived bar a father and son. The memorial seemed to be unsure whether it was mourning the two lost lives or celebrating the skill of the brave pilot. Frank turned away from the cutting April wind and waited for the limousine to collect him. Nearly three years of a clandestine relationship with the United States government had made the Iglesias organisation enormously wealthy, and Frank had an important role in that relationship that had brought him considerable financial reward. Of course he was not paying for the limousine, or indeed the private jet that had carried him here from Brasilia; that was provided by the Americans through the company that disguised the real nature of their business: Driscoll Biochem.

The Cadillac Fleetwood paused, rather than stopped, a few feet from him and the door was thrust open from the inside. He was to have a fellow passenger. Frank fingered the titanium chain that connected his case to an armed bracelet at his wrist. He did not welcome having to share his journey to the factory, and any departure from the normal arrangements set the nerves of a person at his level, in his business, on edge. He slid into the car and discovered Michael Driscoll himself shuffling his overweight frame across the sumptuous leather to make room for him.

“Sorry to surprise you, Mr Kørner, but I need to brief you before we reach the facility.” Driscoll was sweating, despite the air conditioning and the low temperature outside. “The President could be about to make some changes in his priorities; some changes that could have a negative impact on our current projections.”

“Is this something to do with the assassination attempt? I thought that was nothing to do with the global issues. Surely he hasn’t changed his views on the Communist threat?” Frank was speaking the language of the political press, but he had already detected the real problem. His career had been built on exploiting human greed and having unique technology; if something had changed it was certainly not the American appetite for narcotics or the President’s hatred of Communism: it had to be technology.

“I’ll be brief; there are two factors that concern us,” Driscoll caught Frank’s glance towards the driver. “It’s OK, we can speak openly here; probably only here. Those factors are the Lady President and some changes in budgets.”

“I know the United States is supposed to be democratic on several levels, but how can Nancy be a problem?”

“She sees our business as having a cost in terms of health care, productivity, that kind of thing. She doesn’t like the way teenagers are shaping up,” Driscoll tapped a Cohiba from its metal tube. “She wants them to ‘Just Say No’. Jesus!”

“Americans habitually say no and then indulge to the maximum. Look at prohibition. What’s the problem? I might think you were over reacting.”

“I agree. Normally official attempts to squeeze us can be engineered to take out the amateurs and give us an even larger slice of the pie; but this time it’s different.” The rich smoke filled the cab, reminding Frank of the first time he had met Iglesias. He craved a glass; no, a bottle of Vega Sicilia. His profound enjoyment of the memory of the warm wine was dissipated by Driscoll’s edginess and the offered coffee. Now he was going to hear about the technology.

“The President is ordering massive, really massive increases in NASA’s budget. He thinks he has some way to beat the Commie’s using satellites. He wants to go to war on the big scale and win. I tell you Frank, my wife is expecting, and I’m not going to let my kids grow up here. London, Paris, Berlin; there all going to be targets too. I don’t trust any defence in a shooting war. NATO is fucked. I’m sending her back home to Ireland; if Europe is trashed I’ll get them to New Zealand.”

“I’m happy you have contingency plans, but why are we having this conversation here? What about our business?”

“Our business is big; very big. If Reagan wants to make a show of cracking down on the trade, and doesn’t need to worry about how those chips fall, he’ll hang Iglesias out to dry, and we could; no would, hang with him.”

Frank studied his fingernails. He somehow felt that their inexorable growth represented his own immortality, and at this moment he realised that he was being offered a way to escape another death and create an even grander future. He visualised his embryo, infused with the nutriment in the cavern in Edgeøya, and already knew whose cerebral fluid would facilitate the next stage. Driscoll put his hand on Frank’s shoulder and a pile of Cohiba ash scattered over the perfect material of his suit. “I know that you made Los Cardales happen. Now I need you to get rid of Iglesias before he takes us with him.”