The Immortality Virus (14 page)

From the outside, the plantation house looked like a massive fortress. From the inside, it looked like an endless system of crisscrossing corridors. It felt institutional. The walls were a cream color, the carpet pale blue, and the pictures that lined the walls were the sort of impersonal things someone might have ordered at random from a catalog.

It was hard to believe people lived there, but many did. Not the slaves, of course, they would live in shabbier dwellings on the grounds, but among other things the farms were huge corporations that had many employees working for them–administrators, secretaries, accountants, researchers, and the farmers–the wardens.

At least Margaret’s office was only two turns from the elevator. Grace thought she could find her way back quickly if she had to–assuming the corridors did not suddenly rotate at odd hours to throw would-be escapees off track.

The thought made her smile, which helped ease some of the tension she felt as she walked in.

Margaret’s office was a pleasant contrast to the institutional corridor outside. The walls in here boasted a bright green that managed to be fun rather than blinding. The carpet, a rich brown, almost disappeared under the canvas of furniture–a massive oak desk, a sofa, two comfortable armchairs, and a coffee table in the middle of the sitting group. Covering bits of the green walls were pictures of people–family, Grace presumed. Indeed, she thought she recognized one very old picture of Jordan Lacklin standing next to a smiling woman–Margaret? Jordan’s Margaret, at any rate.

“You must be Grace,” Margaret said the instant they walked in the door. “And I see you’ve already met my brother. How nice!” Her face split into a warm smile of welcome, making the similarities between her and her brother stand out.

“See you, Mags,” Alex said as Grace shook Margaret’s hand.

“Pfft! Why don’t you stay and chat with us?” Margaret asked. “Didn’t Grace tell you we’re family?”

As Grace suspected, Alex’s green eyes became sharp and inquisitive. “Oh?”

“She thinks Granddad might have lived long enough to have another child. Wouldn’t that be nice? He was always so hung up on Grandma. I would like to think he lived and found new love.”

“How old are you?” Alex asked, fixing her with those green eyes for the first time. She wished he would turn them away.

“One hundred and thirty,” Grace managed.

“How old was your mom when she had you?” He made her feel like he was cross-examining her.

“Forty,” Grace said. That much was all true.

“So you’re suggesting our grandfather was alive one hundred and seventy years ago and had a daughter at something like three hundred years old?”

“Men can have babies at that age,” Grace told him. Many men eventually went sterile after a century or two, but others had been known to continue producing healthy sperm for hundreds of years.

“Alex, what’s the matter with you?” Margaret asked. “You know it’s possible for men to do that sometimes. Just because you can’t—”

Grace did not need to get into the middle of sibling rivalry. That seemed the surest way to blow her cover. “Look, I’m not entirely sure if I’ve found the right Jordan Lacklin. My mom only told me his name and that he was an old timer.”

“And you thought the most likely place to start would be here?” Alex shook his head.

Her rescuer of a few minutes ago had suddenly turned against her. She understood his suspicions. After all, she was lying, but she did not understand the raw hostility in his voice.

“Alex, you’re being rude,” Margaret said. “Why don’t we sit down and have tea and let Grace talk? Then we can decide if she’s found family or a dead end. Either way, we can be civilized.”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, all right. We can be civilized. Why don’t you go and get us some tea and cakes?”

Margaret looked tensely between Alex and Grace, but shrugged and left her office. As soon as she was gone, Alex closed the door and locked it with an ominous click.

“Who are you?” Alex asked without preamble.

“I told you the truth,” Grace said. “Didn’t you just get through telling that guard why I wasn’t here looking for a job or anything? Why else would I be here?”

“Exactly. You’re not here looking for a job and you’re not here looking for lost relatives. My grandfather was old before aging began, and he was wanted for murder.”

Grace fixed her face into a look of surprise. “What?”

“He didn’t do it,” Alex added quickly, “but he was on the run and unlikely to have survived. Who are you?”

“Who do you think I am?” Grace didn’t miss a beat with her responses. Hesitation would give away the lie, but her racing heart might do that anyway.

“I have a theory,” Alex said slowly, “but I want to hear the truth from you. And don’t insult my intelligence again by telling me you’ve already told me the truth.”

Grace hesitated. Damn. There went her lie. She just had no idea what to say. She obviously couldn’t tell him the truth, not with The Establishment clamoring for the information.

“Well, not lying is a start,” Alex said, his features softening somewhat. “Why don’t you take off your coat?”

Because I want to be able to make a run for it.
She took off her coat, hat, gloves, and backpack, though, and set them on the floor beside one of the armchairs.

Alex stared at her as she removed her clothing and continued to stare until she glared back at him. “What?”

“You’re not what I expected.”

“You were expecting someone?” Grace asked. Did that mean he knew where his grandfather was and knew people would be looking for him?

“To be honest, yes. I’ve been expecting someone to come looking for my granddad for years. I guess I just always thought it would either be some high-powered Establishment people in black ties or else some scum-of-the-earth revolutionaries dealing in more direct forms of human misery. You look pretty normal.”

“Gee, thanks. Just what every girl wants to hear.” She meant it as a means of lightening the tension, but somehow the words that rang in her ears were all wrong, and she blushed. She didn’t fail to note, however, that Alex already knew about his grandfather’s activities–or at least he suspected.

“Who are you working for, then?” Alex asked.

She almost laughed because she didn’t know the answer to that. Who should she say? Mr. Stanton? The Establishment? Matt was part of The Establishment so in reality, it would be the truest thing to say. But she didn’t really plan on telling him either thing. Mostly, she was curious how much Alex knew about his grandfather. Had Jordan shared his information on the virus with his grandson? If so, perhaps short of finding Jordan, Matt could use Alex’s help.

“Grace? Who do you work for?” Alex repeated.

“Why do you think I’m looking for your grandfather?” Grace countered.

Alex sat down on the sofa and beckoned Grace to sit in the armchair across from him. “All right, let’s just try this. Are you a rebel?”

“No.”

“I believe you. Are you a revolutionary?” Alex asked.

“Is there a difference?” Grace asked.

Alex chuckled. “I’m told there is. All right, are you Establishment?”

Grace managed a chuckle. “I’m on their blacklist, if you must know.”

“I can check on that,” Alex said. “I have Establishment connections.”

“You’re Establishment?”

Alex shrugged. “I have some money and obey a lot of their rules, but it’s not like there are membership cards. I can still check on you.”

“Go ahead.”

“What did you do to get blacklisted?” Alex asked.

If he could check on her status, he could check on the reason–at least their version. She decided to be honest about it. “I killed a rich boy who was trying to rape a woman.”

“Yeah, that’ll get you on their bad side. Why didn’t they kill you?”

“It’s a long story,” Grace said. “So, why do you think I’m looking for your grandfather?”

“Are you pro-death?” Alex continued his line of questioning as if she hadn’t spoken.

This time, Grace hesitated. She wasn’t in the organization, but she was definitely out looking for a road back for humans. “No.”

Alex didn’t miss the pause. “You hesitated. So, pro-death has finally snapped and decided the best way to get humans back to the way they once were is to kill as many as possible? That doesn’t seem logical.”

“What?” Grace was genuinely confused. “I mean, pro-death was never exactly logical, but what makes you think I’m looking to kill people?” In a way she was, but not in the way Alex seemed to be suggesting.

“So you are pro-death.”

“No.”

“Look, there are a lot of terrorist groups out there I could name. I don’t know which you’re in, maybe it’s another pro-death not related to the one I know about, but either way, I’m not going to help you kill people. Even if I knew where my grandfather was, which I don’t, I wouldn’t tell you where he is.”

“Kill people?” Grace asked. She was suddenly feeling a bit angry with this pompous man. People died every day in this hell hole and his grandfather had done that. He even knew it, and could smugly sit there and lecture Grace about killing people.

“Yeah, kill people,” Alex shot back. “But you’re wasting your time. My grandfather probably died ages ago and took the details of his bioweapons research to the grave with him.”

Grace’s mouth formed a tiny “o” of surprise. She knew about his biowarfare past, of course, but would not have considered it a reason to hunt him down.

“That’s not why you’re here, is it?” Alex said. “You couldn’t fake that look.”

“Probably not,” Grace said. “I’m not sure why people would come looking for him for that, anyway. I’m sure there are lots of people who could manufacture a new super bug if they wanted to. Some think The Establishment already has–the 2247 influenza outbreak wiped out about one-third of the population. Only trouble was, it killed plenty Establishment too, albeit in lower percentages, so I think they were keen not to let that happen again. Really, you’d have to be plain nuts to take that road to population control. You just can’t control who it’s going to kill. Even the rebels and revolutionaries want to end up on top when this is all over. Tough to do when you’re dead.”

Grace realized she was babbling and shut down her speech. She wasn’t sure where to go next, anyway.

“I figured sooner or later this world would drive someone nuts enough,” Alex said in a low voice. His frown returned, and he gave Grace a penetrating look. “Probably not The Establishment, of course, and as they’re the only ones who could fund new research…”

“You thought someone would come after some old research,” Grace finished for him.

They sat in silence for a while, not quite looking at one another. Grace no longer believed Alex thought she was there to get a bioweapon and kill people, but he also knew she wasn’t there looking for relatives.

Someone started pounding on the door. Alex stood to unlock it and let in his sister, carrying a tray of tea and cakes, along with a dark-haired man with a subtly lined face.

“This is our cousin, Carl,” Margaret said by way of introduction. “Carl, this is Grace. She thinks we may be related.”

“That’s what you said.” Carl stared at Grace with dark, impenetrable brown eyes. He looked nothing like his cousins, who were both fairer in skin and hair. He was also taller–much taller. She didn’t get that from his picture. He had to be at least six feet six inches tall, an intimidating height made only slightly less awesome by his willowy frame.

“Help yourself,” Margaret said, passing around the four teacups.

For a while, they busied themselves pouring, drinking, and eating. Alex did not give Grace away, but he scarcely took his eyes off her. Neither, for that matter, did Carl.

Grace and Margaret chatted for a while. Margaret wanted to know all about Grace’s life and childhood, which she filled in with as much truth as possible so she did not get caught in a lie.

Finally, Carl cut across them. “So, you’re looking for our grandfather?”

“I—er—I’m looking for family,” Grace said. “Margaret already said you didn’t know where your grandfather was.”

“That’s right,” Carl said. “Will you excuse me for a minute?” He stepped out of the room, leaving Grace a little perplexed.

Margaret took it in stride. “He’s always rude. It’s nothing personal.”

“Look,” Grace said, “I’ve definitely taken too much of your time here. I should go.” Besides, she knew she would not get Jordan Lacklin’s location from them. She needed to move on.

“Nonsense,” Margaret said. “Alex is just waiting for his plants to grow, and I won’t have that much to inventory until planting season starts again. Even Carl doesn’t have as much to do as he likes to pretend–he’s always looking to move up in the world.”

“No, really, I—”

“Alex can tell you all about his plants,” Margaret interrupted. “He’s making hybrids to help feed more people with less food. He’s been working on it for centuries, with some success, although if you ask me, he spends way too much time with his plants and not enough with people.”

“Mags,” Alex began.

“You know, he was actually offered a spot on a colony ship and he turned it down?”