22

 

THE LAB

Gwen gave a little gasp when she swung round the corner and saw Messenger in her office, sitting at her desk. He was spinning his wedding ring on the polished wood, staring at it contemplatively.

“You look startled, Dr. Gwen.” He caught his ring mid-spin and slipped it back on his finger.

“Just coming back down to earth,” said Gwen breathily. “I was miles away.”

“Thinking of Oracle?”

“As always,” replied Gwen, summoning a smile to gild her lie.

“Know any of the government techs involved in Project ARk Storm?” Messenger asked, getting up from Gwen’s desk, taking his time. He moved past Gwen so close she could feel the heat from his body. She let out her breath, sank into her chair. She found herself hugging her handbag to her chest like a security blanket. She dropped it on the floor, swiveled in her chair to look up at Messenger, who was leaning against her doorjamb in his casual and wholly proprietorial way.

“As it happens,” she answered, channeling her natural drawl, “I do. One of their chief meteorologists was my prof at Stanford.”

“Friends?”

“Yeah. She’s a surfer too.”

“I’d like you to pay her a visit. Get an update.”

“Sure, I can do that, but with a view to what? Their Web page gives a pretty good update of their thinking.”

“There’s the stuff they put out in the press conferences, then there’s what they really think but don’t want to share with the public in case they scare the shit out of them. Privately, they might be on the same page as you. Be nice to get confirmation.”

“I’ll see what I can find out. Hi Mandy.”

Messenger turned around.

Mandy was standing patiently outside the office.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said with a little shoulder shrug, “but Sheikh Ali rang when you were grinding that poor pro into dust out there on the court. Went through to voice mail. Didn’t sound urgent but I thought you should know.”

Messenger straightened up as if someone had just flicked a switch. He gave Gwen a backhanded wave as he strode off to his office.

“Who the hell is Sheikh Ali?” asked Gwen.

“You don’t know?” asked Mandy tinnily.

“Er, no, should I?”

“He’s Falcon’s major investor. He backed Dr. Messenger just after he started out in this business. He’d seen the doctor’s blogs on investments on the Internet. Got in touch and offered him money to manage.”

“Wow! Just out of the blue?”

“Yep.”

“Dr. Messenger must have written a killer blog.”

“Oh, it was. And get this. He wrote it during his down time, during his shifts when he was on call at the hospital, but there was nothing happening.”

“Stop!” Gwen held up a hand. “Dr. Messenger is an MD?”

“Well, yeah.”

“I thought it was a DPhil, like mine.”

Mandy vigorously shook her head. “Everyone thinks that, but no. He was a real medical doctor. Brain was his thing.”

“And he gave that up to be an investor?” asked Gwen.

“Let me put it another way. He gave up a half a mil a year and four sleepless nights a week for a few hundred million and a life.”

Gwen blew out a breath. “Wow again.”

Mandy laughed. “Yeah, wow again. And look, I can see you thinking what a waste of all his doctoring and all that baloney, but he paid his dues, over and over, let me tell you. He saved plenty of lives. He’d done his giving back, before he got his getting.”

“Didn’t say he hadn’t.”

“Didn’t need to. In your eyes.” Mandy laid a freckled hand on Gwen’s shoulder. “Piece of advice. This place is a money machine. Lean and mean. Check your moral qualms at the door, honey.”

Not trusting herself to speak, Gwen nodded mutely.

“How d’you know so much?” she asked after a pause.

“I was his nurse. We paired up for most surgeries. Then he started Falcon, he asked me to join him, and before you ask, honey, I’d paid my dues too, needed time off my feet and on my ass plus enough dough to buy me a home.”

Gwen raised her hands. “Truce!”

Mandy laughed and bustled out of her office.

Intriguing, thought Gwen, getting up to fetch herself a coffee, eyeing Messenger in his office as she passed, wondering how much else she had yet to learn about Falcon, its backers, and about Messenger himself. How many personae did he keep in that pared-down frame? The Healer, the Investor, the Murderer?