Minnie Chase Makes a Mistake (25 page)

He closed his eyes and shook his head as though the sight of Minnie disgusted him. ‘You are a destructive presence in Mr Greene’s life. How much more trouble to do you plan to cause?’

Minnie was shocked. ‘I want to help him,’ she said in a hushed voice, aware that Levchin was blocking the only exit. ‘It was only ever my intention to do the best for him – in his personal and professional life.’

‘Freak radicals are unstable,’ panted Levchin, working himself into a rage. ‘The overproduction of stupid people is very harmful indeed. Idiots like you are multiplying all over the world as we speak.’

‘No,’ insisted Minnie.

‘I have zero tolerance for stupid people,’ hissed Levchin, practically frothing at the mouth now. ‘Did you actually think that your cute from-the-heart speech would make a difference? People need to
invest
in their health. I provide a service and it’s not my fault that it is a profitable one. Five-star clinics, foot rubs, prescriptions and a peaceful retreat; it is up to the individual to make their
own
decision.’

Minnie flinched. The word zero resonated in her mind escalating the situation from bad to worse. Minnie tried to respond positively, ‘These people are vulnerable. People are spending $200 on a simple foot rub because the Levchin brand has brainwashed people.’

‘Brain
dead
people.’

‘The people outside this bus are not brain dead,’ snapped Minnie rolling her eyes. ‘Did you bother to speak to anyone in the crowd?’

‘I don’t need to speak to these people. I know all there is to know.’

‘I find it incredible that you’re not open to new research. Sid Zane’s work might not take place in a chemist’s laboratory but it doesn’t mean it is less relevant.’

‘Your deluded notions about this disease are laughable. You seem to think that some mathematical multiplications and a voice recording can make a world of difference.’

‘It is more complex than that,’ said Minnie, stung.

‘Next you’ll proclaim that there is no need to visit clinics for check-ups because this can all be done through voice recordings.’

‘Is that so terrible?’

‘What about Levchin Care Clinics?’

‘What about progress?’

Levchin jabbed a finger at Minnie. ‘What about minding your own damn business?’ 

Minnie took another step back. Levchin had made her feel trapped and vulnerable. She thought the best thing to do was to keep him talking. It only had to be a matter of minutes until someone came back to the bus. 

‘I think the Levchin Care Clinics’ business model needs to be clearer,’ replied Minnie smoothly, desperately looking towards the door. ‘Currently, you are giving people the impression that you can cure them. Yet you tell me there is no cure for Parkinson’s. You also give the impression that the more they spend, the better they will feel.’

‘Does it matter?’ sneered Levchin.

‘Well, yes, of course it matters.’ Minnie frowned.

‘These people are already dead,’ he snapped, taking a few quick steps nearer to Minnie. ‘There is no cure for Parkinson’s. There never will be. Sooner or later, these people will be drugged to the eyeballs with pills to control their symptoms. We are talking about prescription-reliant zombies. I sell pills to make a profit. It’s what’s called being,’ he used his fingers to make quotation marks, “business-friendly” within a thriving billion-dollar pharmaceutical industry.’ He leered at Minnie. She shivered. Levchin was starting to make her skin crawl. 

‘You must excuse me,’ said Minnie unable to listen to him for a minute more. ‘I have friends waiting for me.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Please let me past.’

‘We are not done here.’

Minnie took a step to the right to walk around him but he moved and blocked her path. She could feel the heat pulsing off him. The temperature in the bus, due to the broken air-con, was still uncomfortably hot. 

‘What are you
doing
?’ asked Minnie, now more frustrated than frightened. 

‘I’m making sure you know what you’ve done.’

‘I know what I’ve done,’ replied Minnie, keeping her voice low and level so as not to infuriate him further. She could see he was struggling and failing to control his temper. ‘But I truly believe I did what was best for Greene.’

‘Greene isn’t worth the effort,’ scoffed Levchin, clenching a fist. ‘He is no one now. You’ve seen how everyone has deserted him.’

‘That’s not true.’

Levchin continued. ‘He’ll resort to chemicals to control the symptoms as he desperately tries to hide his Parkinson’s from the world but the cracks will start to show sooner rather than later, his balance and coordination will be impaired. Can you imagine Greene shuffling into a room when he’s the kind of man who likes to give the impression that he can walk on water? He will become invisible because his pride will force him to live like a prisoner in his own home. Greene will
never
allow someone to see him jerking and drooling like an idiot.’

Minnie gasped. ‘You are a disgrace to your profession.’

Levchin reacted with surprising speed and slapped Minnie hard across the face. Stunned, she staggered backwards and fell against the interior wall of the bus. There was a large conference-style table to her right, filing cabinets to her left and Levchin directly in front of her. She was effectively boxed in. She instinctively touched her cheek and could feel the heat beneath her fingertips. 

‘We must eradicate freak radicals,’ hissed Levchin. He lunged towards Minnie. She shoved him away hard but he barely budged, heavy shoes suckered into the carpet. He pushed his angry face into hers, his breath was garlicky sour and warm. ‘I have spent years and years building up my business. I have put so much time and research into Parkinson’s. I deserve something back.’

Minnie turned her face away from him, holding her breath so she couldn’t inhale him. Levchin grabbed her chin and forced her face towards him. He bent his head until mouth was close to her ear. ‘You have ruined Greene’s reputation and business but I will
not
allow you to ruin mine. I don’t run a charity, I’m a realist. I understand how the brain works and I can recognise a stupid person when I see one.’

‘Let me go,’ pleaded Minnie. ‘You’re hurting me.’

Levchin squeezed her chin tighter. ‘People who get Parkinson’s are losers in life’s health lottery but stupid people, like you, should know better.’

Minnie, using all her strength, wrenched her face free from his grip, furious and upset. ‘Like it or not, the people outside are here because of new research,’ she shouted, rubbing her chin, trying to erase the impression of his fingertips. ‘This research might work or it might not but it is better than believing in nothing. People need to believe in something. In the real world, we have a bespoke diagnosis for something like this. It’s called “hope”.’ She was almost tempted to use her fingers to make quotation marks but the thought was literally knocked out of her. Levchin lunged at her with a furious bellow. This time he grabbed her throat with both hands. His fingernails ripped into her skin scratching her painfully. He rattled her back and forth as though attempting to shake some sense into her. Then he started to squeeze and squeeze. The sharp smell of his antibacterial handwash mingled with his sour breath filling her nostrils as his warm hands tightened their grip. He was panting wildly and his eyes had glazed over in trance-like rage. 

Minnie struggled desperately, thrashing her arms in an attempt to wriggle free. She also desperately tried to kick out but there was no room between them. She was flattened further into the wall – a mural with its subject, Minnie, in great distress. She could feel sinewy tissue popping and crunching as her windpipe was crushed underneath Levchin’s iron grip. His deathly black eyes locked onto hers daring her to look away. She was usually frightened of the dark but when the moment came, the velvety blackness that overwhelmed her was a welcome escape. 

She could no longer see Levchin. She could no longer hear him. She could no longer see or hear anything at all. 

The sunshine painted everyone in a favourable light. Parker Bachmann, attentive and talkative, worked a path through the crowd that had showed up to hear Minnie speak. One of her staff had tracked down Sid Zane and now Bachmann cornered him. He seemed happy to be cornered, a little awe-struck, perhaps, as Bachmann praised him on bringing everyone together at such short notice. She was introduced to his supporters and soon wasn’t the only one getting a point across. Jackson and his friends waited around to speak to Minnie. She had arranged to meet them and Sid Zane after she had collected her bag from Bachmann’s campaign bus. 

Minnie’s speech had been recorded and uploaded onto the Internet as expected. Sid Zane was now watching it back on his iPad. Bachmann watched it with him, her golden head studiously focused on the footage. He placed a link to his website while explaining to Bachmann that there were no biomarkers such as blood tests to diagnose Parkinson’s. She wanted to hear more about voice-based tests that could be completed in under five minutes at a very low cost. 

People seemed reluctant to leave, especially as Parker Bachmann was still making her stellar presence felt. People acted like planets in the solar system, orbiting the Bachmann star. The acting mayor was the centre of attention but it was all for a good cause and a well-received appearance that would make a global reputation strategist proud.

Someone, however, wasn’t drawn to the heart of the action or wanted to be part of the crowd. Levchin exited the bus as discreetly as he had entered it. The sheen from his expensive suit shimmered briefly in the sunshine as he threaded a path through groups of people standing around and disappeared into the shadow of a building on the other side of the park. 

He wasn’t the only person going about their business unnoticed. Greene had arrived on the scene and was intently watching the crowd from an anonymous vantage point in a car behind blacked out bullet-proof glass. He noticed his fiancée immediately. There was no chance she could ever be over-looked, statuesque and as dazzling as ever. He was looking for Minnie but the only person he recognised was Dr Levchin as he left the bus. 

He instructed his driver to pull up outside the campaign bus. He sat for another minute and then took the unusual decision of leaving the car when there were so many people around. One member of his Dragonet team accompanied him inside the mobile hotdog. This is where they found Minnie crumpled on the cream carpet. Greene reached her in two strides, he quickly checked for a pulse and Minnie stirred. Gently, he rolled her over into the recovery position and called to his Dragonet to fetch the other member of the security team, the trained medic, from the car to help them. Minnie lay silently with the thick carpet pile pressed into her cheek. The same cheek Levchin had slapped so hard moments ago. She shuddered and breathed deeply, beginning to come round.

‘Miranda, are you okay? What happened?’ asked Greene. ‘Did you faint?’

Minnie didn’t say anything. 

‘Someone open a window,’ ordered Greene. ‘Why is the air con not doing its job? Miranda, here is some water. Can you tell me what happened?’

Minnie couldn’t speak and not just because her throat hurt. She knew there was no point telling the truth. Greene was on Dr Levchin’s side. He was no doubt furious with her too. She didn’t stick to the script.

She lay quietly while the medic checked her over. She recoiled nervously when he took her wrist to check her pulse.

Greene frowned fractionally. Minnie shut her eyes. She was incredibly tired. It was time to go home. She didn’t even speak while the medic fussed over her and asked her if anything was hurting as a result of her fall. Greene watched her in stony silence.

As requested, someone from the Greene team drove Minnie back to her motel. She had been given the all clear after a thorough examination; a sore, squeezed throat officially undetected. Still badly shaken but now more alert, she managed to send a quick text message to Sid Zane and Jackson. She wanted to let them know she couldn’t meet them for drinks as planned. They arranged to catch up over breakfast the following morning instead. 

Back safely at the motel, Minnie looked in the bathroom mirror as she splashed cool water over her face. She noticed slight bruising starting to appear around her neck and, on closer inspection, scratches from fingernails. She didn’t recognise the face staring back at her – huge, sad eyes and a haunted expression. The emptiness she felt inside seemed to be breaking her down and there was nothing she could do to make it better. She seemed to attract trouble no matter how much she tried to do the right thing. Her head throbbed and she lay down on the bed, exhausted, numb and still in shock. 

Meanwhile, back at the campaign bus, Greene didn’t wait around. Unlike everyone else outside, he had no desire to speak to Parker Bachmann. It was Minnie he had wanted to talk to. When she had insisted on going back to her motel immediately, he knew now wasn’t the time for a conversation. He paused briefly, though, taking in the artful campaign posters of Parker Bachmann piled up on a chair. She smiled at him from the artwork – candidate’s name, image and message reaching out to the voters. The golden hair and the winning smile stood out against the red, white and blue stripes and stars in the background – without doubt, great visual impact. Her handsome chin rested on the campaign slogan:
There’s No Place Like Home
. The woman even had the power to bewitch and beguile on paper.

Greene stared at her a second more and then snapped out of the moment. ‘Sweep the bus,’ he ordered. 

Then he was gone.

18

Under the bridge

Minnie woke up with a start in the dark. The clock showed her it was just after three in the morning. She was drenched in sweat. Her deep sleep, so welcome the previous night, now no longer protected her from the real world.

She looked past the clock and was momentarily disorientated, automatically reaching across the covers to hold on to James George only to find that he wasn’t there. This realisation made her sit bolt upright on the bed; her eyes eventually focused on the now-familiar motel curtains, wardrobe and desk.