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‘IS IT ALWAYS LIKE THIS?’
Once the euphoria of eluding the Brotherhood waned, the trip to Las Vegas had taken longer than Mika expected. After relinquishing the piloting to Lisa, and the navigation to Lionel, the hours were full of their raised voices, the professors arguing at length over which roads to take, their decisions more often leading to dead ends than safe passage. Mika could sense their fear as they fought for safety in logic, their tortured experience still raw even years on. Yes, she’s angry at them for manipulating her. But watching them struggle to do what’s right after so many years of hiding makes her soften. It takes a brave person to do what scares you, even when it’s the right thing to do.
‘The lights? Yeah. It’s always best to arrive at night,’ Stan says, joining Mika to peer out the front window over the professors’ shoulders. ‘All the flaws are hidden by the pretty, pretty lights.’
Mika has to agree it’s pretty. Las Vegas is putting on a show to impress: spotlights roaming the skies like giants’ torches and the buildings flashing in blue and gold.
‘I don’t like it here, Mika. Can we go home?’
Home? But Bree doesn’t have a home. Does she mean the reservation? Mika should have left the little girl there, where she felt safe. The closer they’ve come to the city, the more withdrawn Bree’s become, sinking backwards into shadow.
‘Don’t worry, sweetie. I just need to see a man and then we’ll go. I need his help.’
A sob – her own – catches Mika by surprise.
‘Mika?’
Picking Bree up, Mika notes how much she’s filled out in the past week. She sits down, the child nestled on her lap.
‘It’s my sister. Huia. I love her so much, but you see, she’s sick – she has diabetes – and she’s going to have a baby.’ Stan looks up sharply, staring at Mika over Bree’s head, his own face full of pain. Mika buries her face in Bree’s hair.
‘If I can’t get help for Huia, she could die, and her baby too.’
‘I can help you,’ Bree whispers.
Suddenly, it dawns on Mika exactly what the girl is offering.
‘Oh no. No!’ Mika grips her harder. ‘No, Bree. You’re safe. Whatever happens, you’ll never be used that way. I promise.’
‘Is the man going to give your sister an organ?’ Bree asks.
Mika shakes her head. ‘No, sweetie. I’m going to give him my father’s work and he’s going to make some medicine to help my sister. To help a lot of people.’
‘After that, can we can go home?’
‘Yes, then we’ll go home.’ Mika cups Bree’s face in her hand, letting the little girl see the tears in her eyes as she kisses her on both cheeks.
‘Okay,’ Mika says. ‘Let’s get this over with, shall we? Where is B-Cell?’
With a flourish, Lionel turns Torua towards the towering edifice of B-Cell Technologies, glowing like an emerald at the end of the promenade.
‘They’re the brightest show in town.’
The argument of who would stay with Torua in the underground parking lot, and who would go, was short lived. Torua could look after herself; everyone else felt safer together.
‘I guess they’ve gone home for the day.’ Lionel doesn’t sound disappointed. They’d taken the elevator to the ground floor, expecting to have to sign in at reception, only to discover the lobby deserted.
‘It’s not that late. Someone’s bound to be here. Let’s try the top floor,’ Mika suggests, tapping the top listing on the directory.
B-Cell Industries. CEO Selwyn Bruce.
‘Eighteenth floor it is.’ Stan presses the button and they watch the numbers count down. The doors open with a ping. Stan opens his arms to usher them inside. ‘Everyone in.’
With mirrors on all sides, the elevator is crammed with echoes of themselves, all diminishing in size as they repeat into infinity.
‘I don’t like this,’ Lisa mutters.
Mika doesn’t blame her. The angles are creepy, even Paddy is unhappy, squirming in Bree’s grasp.
Mika tries to inject some cheer into the group. ‘Come on everyone. There’s nothing to be scared about. Remember, I was invited.’ She smiles broadly. Stan turns his head, his cybernetic eye twitching, the strain on his face repeated endlessly in the glass. Lisa and Lionel shift uneasily. Clearly, no one has forgotten the attempt on Mika’s life. At last, the elevator stops, the doors reopening with a ping. No one moves to step out.
‘Now, come on, you’re all just being silly. Nothing is going to happen – it’s a public place.’
‘WHO DARES TO ENTER?’ a hollow voice booms over the building’s loudspeakers.
Startled, Mika jumps back, while Stan grabs Bree, pushing the child deeper into the safety of the elevator.
‘My name is Mika Tāura. I’m here to see Mr Bruce,’ Mika replies, poking her head out of the elevator. ‘He’s expecting me,’ she adds hastily.
‘GO AWAY. THERE IS NO MR BRUCE HERE.’
‘Paddy, no!’ Bree slips out of Stan’s grip, pushing past Mika after the puppy, who is racing down the corridor, snarling and barking.
Mika leaps after her.
‘GET OUT OF HERE. No. Ahh – stop it!’
At the end of the corridor, Mika tumbles through a half-open door into must be the boardroom. With a large hollow feel, it smells of dust and decay, as if untouched for decades.
‘Bree, where are you?’ Mika hisses.
The voice, no longer on the loudspeaker, emerges from the gloom.
‘That headset is an antique! Stupid mutt. Your owners are going to have to pay for it, and it won’t be cheap.’ Paddy must be in here somewhere. But where is Bree?
‘I’m sorry, but you frightened him,’ Mika calls into the darkness.
‘Well, you people frightened me first!’ the voice snaps. ‘How did you get in here, anyway?’ A creak to Mika’s left is followed by sudden brilliance, the lighting blinding her for a moment.
‘Oops, forgot how bright they were. Here, wait a second, I think the dimmer still works.’ The speaker fumbles about a bit, after which the lights lower to a clear soft glow. There’s Bree, under the boardroom table. No longer struggling to see, Bree scrabbles after her wayward pet, who thinks it’s a game and scampers off.
Mika sizes up the speaker. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Their host, obviously a big man once, looks lost in his oversized clothes. They hang off him, his pants only held up by the belt at his waist.
‘We came up in the elevator. Mika here has an appointment with Mr Bruce,’ says Stan, who’s just arrived with Lisa and Lionel.
‘What? Oh yes. I asked you how you got here, didn’t I?’
‘Mr Bruce?’
‘No. There’s no Selwyn Bruce here.’ The man thumbs the collar of his suit jacket with both hands, thrusting out his sunken chest with long-lost authority.
‘What kind of dirty trick are you up to?’ Lionel shouts. ‘Mika never even mentioned the name Selwyn. It doesn’t matter. I’d know you anywhere, even if a hundred years were to pass.’ He leaps forward, his fists up ready for battle. Luckily, he’s prevented from delivering a blow by Stan, who grabs him from behind.
‘Just stop it, Lionel. He’s not a threat. He’s an old man.’ Lisa smacks her husband’s fists open. ‘You’re an old man. Stop being ridiculous.’
‘Lionel? Lisa?’ Selwyn stumbles backwards and lands heavily in an office chair, sending out puffs of dust.
‘Now, hear this, Mister. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing: sending someone to kill Mika. But she’s here now. She’s brought the blueprint you asked for – risked her skin to carry it across the world to you – so give her what she needs, and we’ll leave.’ Stan looms over the old man, cowering him further into his seat.
Selwyn Bruce shakes his head emphatically. ‘But I never promised her anything. I don’t want anything from her, and there’s nothing to give. Look around.’
‘It’s true,’ Lisa says. ‘We searched in the offices, looking for you and Bree. The building’s empty, the rooms disused and dusty. No one’s been here for years.’
‘Then why did he reply to our message? Why did he say to come? That he could help?’ Dazed, Mika throws the questions out, hoping one of them will catch an answer.
‘I never received any message,’ Selwyn says, drawing himself up. But then realisation creases his face. ‘It must have been the Brotherhood. They keep the lights on here for me in exchange for pieces of old research. But it’s been a while since I’ve had anything worth trading. They must have intercepted your message, figured you had something.’
‘Vultures,’ Lionel growls.
‘They can use my father’s research to create a cure?’ Mika doesn’t understand. The Brotherhood don’t seem like scientists, or even the type of people scientists would work with.
‘Is that what they promised you? It’s a lie. Everyone’s dead ... the scientists ... all their work ... gone.’ A sad old man, Selwyn looks as confused as the rest of them.
‘So that’s what you did with your secret keepers,’ Lisa says softly.
‘But what am I going to do?’ Mika says, stricken. ‘He can’t help me. He can’t help anyone.’
‘Mika, that light over there is flashing.’ Unnoticed, Bree has returned, Paddy in her arms, the shredded remains of a headpiece dangling from his jaw. She nods at the building opposite, which is made almost entirely of glass. Reflected in its panes, the static emerald lights of B-Cell’s headquarters are flashing. ‘It’s a pattern: three long, three short, three long,’ Bree says.
‘A signal? What the hell have you done, old man?’ Lionel reforms his fist, ready to deliver the pounding he promised earlier.
Selwyn steps back hastily, patting his pockets, and removes a small black device. He pokes frantically at the buttons until the lights stop flashing.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know who you were. Go now. Before they get here.’
‘Let’s go,’ Stan says.
On the run again, and still no help for Huia.
‘We have to take him with us,’ Lionel says. ‘We can’t trust this weasel not to tell the Brotherhood about Mika’s tattoos.’
‘I won’t. I swear. It’s too late for me, anyway.’ It’s only then that Mika notices the sallowness of his skin. So, Selwyn has the disease too. She should rejoice at the karma, that the man who championed the epidemic is a sufferer himself, but she simply feels flat.
‘You’re sick. You need a kidney,’ she states. She draws Bree close to her side. ‘You really are a wicked man.’
‘I wasn’t always.’ Selwyn Bruce holds his hands open, imploring her to believe that what he says is true. ‘Our intent at B-Cell was always altruistic. We wanted to save lives...’
Lionel and Lisa glare at him.
‘Save your marketing campaign for the dust mites,’ Stan says, placing a hand on Mika’s back. ‘Let’s go.’
‘No, wait.’ She steps closer to Selwyn, her nose crinkling at the stench of sickness that saturates his skin. ‘You’re still here. The Brotherhood haven’t kicked you out yet. So, what exactly were you planning on trading next?’
Selwyn flushes red. ‘Nothing.’
‘What have you got?!’ roars Lionel, stepping forward, enraged. ‘Tell her now!’
Selwyn cringes. ‘You’re right, I kept something,’ he blurts. ‘Just in case. It’s not much.’
‘Give it to her,’ Lionel says, his expression full of menace.
Selwyn’s eyes dart about. ‘It’s just a scrap. Something Atticus said when he was pleading for us to allow him to continue his research.’
‘What was it?’ Mika asks, softly now, desperate to hear her father’s words, even from this man’s mouth.
‘He said the answer was in the healthy gene.’
‘That can’t be all,’ says Lisa.
‘The rest never made sense, something about family protecting family. It was a long time ago.’
‘Come on, he’s got nothing.’ Disgusted, Stan guides them away. They depart the way they came in, leaving Selwyn alone in his tower.