Just after two o’clock, four of us met at Willard’s house near Green Lake: me, Hollis, Elana, and Willard himself. The big man had owned the place for decades. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say he’d owned the land, as the house had been rebuilt from the ground up within the past three years. What used to be little more than a cottage—cozy for most, positively cramped for Willard—was now a two-story gabled home with solar panels on its bronzed metal roof.
I arrived in time to see Hollis’s sky-blue Cadillac sailing down the street in search of a parking spot. The convertible top was up today. He waved a hand as he coasted past. Elana sat on a dining chair outside the front door, long legs crossed and propped on a garden planter as she vaped lightly from an ivory pen.
“No smoking inside,” she said, “in case you were inclined.”
“Good thing that’s my resolution this year,” I said.
I let myself in. The first story had been made an open design to maximize square footage. From the entry I could see the living room with a fireplace, dining area, and part of the kitchen beyond. Most of the furnishings were steel and cedar, and all of them were large enough to accommodate Willard’s frame. The walls were papered in a putty-colored bamboo pattern that shouldn’t have worked but somehow did. A tang of dark tea filled the space.
Willard came down the stairs, buttoning the cuffs of his shirt.
“Place looks good,” I said.
“I had help.”
“Interior designer?”
He shook his head. “Sonny. A friend with an eye. You want coffee? Tea?”
“Either.” Passing by the mantel, I stopped to look at framed pictures of Elana and her parents when she was younger. And one of a tall, lean black man with a ring of silver hair around his temples. I guessed him for Willard’s friend Sonny. Willard had always been very circumspect about his private life. His confirmed bachelorhood an open secret, but never stated, as if it were fifty years ago. I assumed that discretion worked for him. For them both, maybe.
Hollis and Elana came in, Elana exhaling her last drag in the rough direction of outside before closing the door. I set my rucksack down and extracted the cryo bottle with Aura’s eggs.
“That’s it?” Elana took it from me, weighing it in her hands. “Huh. I figured it would be heavier.”
“Mostly padding and vapor,” I said.
“And three lives,” Hollis said. “Imagine.”
We joined Willard at the dining table. He’d set a pot of coffee on a trivet and passed out mugs.
“I can’t think about it that way,” I said. “Like the eggs have any value beyond what Aura and Bilal give them.”
Willard gave me a flat look. “So if you can’t agree on a deal with them, you’ll toss her eggs in the trash?”
“They’ll deal. They’ll never be more willing.”
“You don’t have to hand all three eggs over,” Elana said. “Give them one. Keep the other two as insurance.”
Willard looked at his niece like she’d sprouted horns. “That might be even colder.”
She shrugged. “They started this.”
“They did,” I agreed, “and I thought about splitting up the eggs, too. But all three might be destroyed in the attempt. Even if we did it right, if Bilal and Aura are successful in having a kid with their first try, I’ve lost my leverage. If they can’t, we’re right back where we started. I don’t want to do this again in a few months.”
“Haven’t these dickweeds heard of adoption?” Elana muttered.
Hollis hummed as he swallowed a mouthful of coffee. “I have to admire his commitment to her.”
“You would,” said Willard.
“It’s true,” Hollis protested. “Aura might only have one option, to get her eggs back. But Bilal doesn’t. He could go off and have a kid with any willing woman before he kicks off if that’s so damned important to him. Hell, he could sire a whole brood.”
I stopped in midpour. “You’re right.”
“Of course I’m right. I know how children get made.”
“About Aura being in a corner. She’s the one who’s truly desperate.” I was looking out the window but not really seeing anything beyond the idea that was taking shape. “She’s the one who’ll be left alone when Bilal dies.”
“Alone raising a brat,” Elana said.
Hollis grimaced. “What is it you’re thinking, Van?”
“Bilal has the money and the soldiers. But it’s Aura I’ll need to reach an agreement with,” I said.
My first thought had been to talk face-to-face with Bilal and Aura, once I’d figured out exactly how to ensure my continued safety. Now I was peering down a path I hadn’t spied before.
“We’ll have to arrange a meeting,” I said, as the idea occurred, “and let Bilal come heavy.”
Willard rumbled. “Well, that sounds like ten kinds of crazy. You know if he sees a chance, he’ll grab you and torture you until you surrender the eggs. After that . . .”
“That’s what I’m counting on. Him seeing a chance. I’ll need you and Hollis to be my eyes.”
“You’re not cutting me out again,” said Elana.
“Nope. You’ll be critical”—I stopped Willard before he started—“and out of the line of fire. You’ll all be away from the heat.”
“Speaking for myself, lad,” Hollis said, “you walking in alone to meet those two and all the muscle they can hire is just mad-dog cowboy shit.”
“Rabid, reckless, and all the rest,” I agreed. “Let’s pray Bilal Nath thinks so, too.”