The Truth About Celia Frost (26 page)

Frankie couldn’t respond.

“It’ll be easy to make it look like an accident, even suicide. After all, hasn’t her daughter just run away, not able to stand her crazy mother any more? No one will be
suspicious, or even care. The police won’t waste their time on the death of another tragic nobody from some dead-end estate.”

“There must be another way,” Frankie said, his sweaty palms sliding on the steering wheel.

“No. This is the only way. Dead people can’t talk and once it’s done we’ll both be safe. No one will be able to touch us. You can go home, forget all this ever happened
and let my generous fee ease your conscience. Mr. Byrne, if you don’t do it, you have everything to lose and nothing to gain. You know I’m right, don’t you?”

“Yes.” It was the hardest word Frankie had ever had to say.

Janice stumbled around the flat, desperately searching for where the ringing was coming from. She flung the sofa cushions on the floor, fell to her knees and crawled on all
fours to the coffee table, knocking her drink over in the process. She had to answer it before it rang off. It must be Celia. Who else would be ringing her at two thirty in the morning?

Now it was coming from above her. She lurched to the window sill and picked it up. “Celia!” she rasped down the phone.

“No, Janice, it’s me, Paul.”

Her eyes narrowed in concentration. “Paul,” she eventually responded.

“Listen, Janice, I hope that I haven’t woken you. I’m sorry for calling you at this ridiculous hour but I just couldn’t stop myself.”

Janice plonked herself down on the sofa, one hand holding her head upright to keep the room still. “Oh,” was all she could muster, reasoning that the less she spoke, the more sober
she would sound.

“Please don’t think that I’m a weirdo or anything, but I just had this terrible feeling that you were in some sort of trouble tonight. I couldn’t shake it off. I just had
to phone to make sure that you were all right. I know that I must sound like such a nutter but—”

“No...no,” Janice interrupted, overwhelmed by the connection this man must have with her.

“I am in trouble,” she blurted out, sobs gathering in her throat. “Celia’s gone! I don’t know what to do.”

“Have you called the police?” he asked, holding his breath for the answer.

“No. I was going to wait until the morning, see if she turned up.”

“Yeah, that sounds sensible. You shouldn’t bother them just yet. Listen, what about if I come over right now and help you sort this out?” Frankie said heroically.

“Would you?” She sounded like a little lost girl. “I’d really appreciate that.”

“Of course, Janice.” He spoke tenderly. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

Janice was regretting having tried to drink herself calm. While she dragged herself to the kitchen to make a strong coffee and splash cold water over her face, Frankie pulled
over at a twenty-four-hour convenience store and bought a large bottle of gin and a small bottle of tonic water, before continuing his journey.

The gentle tap on the door came just after three a.m. Frankie’s mouth smiled but his eyes remained cold as he presented her with the bottles.

“I’ve bought a little pick-you-up,” he said, the irony lost on Janice, who took them with a lopsided smile. Her futile attempts to sober up had made little impression on her
brain. However, she did notice that he was wearing leather gloves.

“Cold?” she enquired, baffled.

“Oh, these?” he said casually. “Burned my hands on a job today. Doctor said I need to keep them covered up to help them heal.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” she pouted, gently patting his gloved hands. “Come on in. Excuse the mess. I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a state.”

Frankie went in and took charge, sitting her on the sofa while he poured her a very stiff drink.

“You not having one?” she asked.

“Driving, aren’t I?” he said, sitting so close to her that their jean-clad knees touched. “Come on, get that down you. It’ll make you feel better,” he said,
as if it were medicine. She drank it down as he smiled approvingly. “Now Janice, tell me what’s happened.”

Janice fumbled for words; the nearness of his body was distracting her. She could feel herself gravitating towards him. “Celia ran off tonight, she’s not come back, she’s not
let me know if she’s okay.”

“Well, it won’t be the first time a teenager has got into a strop and run off for a few hours,” he said reassuringly.

“But this isn’t just some teenage tantrum. If you knew, you’d understand why I’m so worried.” As she spoke, the panic resurfaced. She leaned away from him, guilty
for letting her attention wander. “God knows what she’s thinking, what she might do.”

“Come on. Calm yourself down,” he said pouring her another drink.

“No, I shouldn’t. I’ve got to keep my wits about me,” she said, springing up too quickly. Her legs buckled, as if on an ice rink. Frankie helped her up. Janice bowed her
head in shame. “What must you think of me?” she slurred. “A pathetic, drunken woman.”

“I don’t think that at all, Janice. You’re just a good mother who’s worried about her child.”

Janice smiled meekly. “And you’re a wonderful man,” she said, prodding his chest with a finger. “You come here, in the middle of the night, to help me, to listen to me.
All my life I’ve never had anyone I could talk to, no one to rely on...but then, you came along.”

Frankie couldn’t meet her doe-eyed gaze, her pupils dilated by alcohol and the chemicals of attraction. He had to get this over with before he lost his nerve. “You need some fresh
air.” His voice as unsteady as she was. He took her gently by the arm and guided her onto the balcony. He surveyed the hundreds of other balconies clinging to the surrounding tower blocks.
All were empty and shrouded in darkness. Everyone tucked up in bed, oblivious to the evil act about to be perpetrated in their midst.

The woman was in the middle of preparing the glass slides when her mobile rang. She broke off from the delicate task in order to take the call that she’d been anxiously
waiting for.

“It’s done. Janice Frost is dead,” the voice said.

“Were there any complications?” the woman asked.

“No. You were right. It was easy. It looks like an accident. No one will suspect.”

“Good, good,” she said with relief.

“How’s the girl?” he asked.

“Forget about her. You’ve done your job and you’ll get your money, but I’m warning you, for your own protection as well as mine, you must destroy every bit of information
that relates to this case. You are never to contact me again. This mobile will be destroyed. This case never happened.”

“Hang on a second—” he said, but she hung up. She had work to do and nothing more to say to him.

The drone of the generator registered in Celia’s ears even before her eyes opened. She was greeted by the sight of the woman stood behind a table, staring intently down
the lens of a bulky microscope, which had a monitor attached to it. Celia fought to sharpen her dulled senses. She noted the door in the wall behind the table. If she ran now, she could get out
before the woman even had a chance to react. Bracing herself, Celia attempted to spring up from the seat. For a horrifying second she thought she must be paralysed, her body unable to obey her
brain, but looking down, she saw that she was in a wheelchair, her four limbs strapped to its frame with thick tape. The tracksuit top had been removed and a small, blood-stained plaster sat in the
crook of her left arm.

Celia couldn’t quell her mounting panic. The noise of her ragged breathing alerted the woman, who raised her head. The concentration on the woman’s face was instantly replaced by an
expression usually reserved for a loved one.

“Celia!” she said, walking towards her. “How lovely to see you’re awake.”

Celia shattered the air with cries. “Help,” she bellowed, rocking the squeaking wheelchair as she fought to break her hands and legs free. “Someone help me, please. Help!
Help!”

The woman crouched next to the wheelchair, patting Celia’s restrained hand as if calming an infant throwing a tantrum. “Shush now, Celia,” she purred. “No one can hear
you. You could scream all night and no one would come.”

Celia had seen how isolated the building was. She knew from her captor’s calmness that she was telling the truth.

The woman smiled apologetically at the terrified girl. “I hope that you’re not uncomfortable. I know it seems uncivilized, restraining you like this, but it will allow us to talk
without any silly distractions.”

Celia craned her neck, trying to take in her surroundings. She could taste the dust in the air, see that the neglected room must have been stripped a long time ago, leaving only work surfaces
and chipped sinks clinging to the windowless walls. Above her, dotted among the harsh ceiling lights, were skylights that framed the starry night, allowing a snapshot of beauty into the bleak
interior.

The woman watched for any flicker of recognition in Celia as she absorbed the room. “Do you know who I am?”

“Yes.” Celia looked her straight in the eyes. “You’re the woman who experimented on me, who gave me this virus. You were going to kill me.”

The woman appeared momentarily shaken. Words evaded her for a second, before she regained her composure.

“I’m Professor Hudson,” she retorted proudly, meeting Celia’s saucer eyes. “I’m the woman who’s devoted her whole life to trying to develop a cure for
cancer, trying to prevent millions of people from dying.”

“And what about me? What about this virus you gave me? You’ve got to get rid of it.”

The woman started laughing. A sound of genuine joy filled the room. “I would never get rid of your virus, Celia.”

Celia was appalled. “What’s so funny?”

“My beautiful girl, I’ve been busy while you slept, examining blood samples I took from you. And do you know what I saw?” Hudson’s eyes danced.

“What?”

“I saw this!” Hudson rushed back to the table like an excited child. She turned the monitor towards Celia, revealing a screen filled with iridescent spheres covered with spikes,
wobbling in perpetual motion. “Isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?” Hudson whispered reverently, transfixed by the image.

“What is it?” Celia asked, bemused.

“It’s my Saviour Virus. It’s in you, in your blood,” she replied.

“What are you talking about? I thought the virus you put in me kills.”

“That virus has behaved differently in you. It’s evolved into everything I’ve ever worked towards,” she gushed.

“But how’s that possible?” Celia struggled to comprehend.

“We scientists like to think we can find an explanation for everything, but so much is still a mystery about how viruses behave and mutate in their hosts. That’s what makes them so
incredible to work with. But you always responded better than all the other babies. I knew I was close with you.” Her voice suddenly hardened. “I told him I needed to study you, see if
the virus developed, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“But you’ve already got the Saviour Virus. I saw you on the news, talking about it.”

Hudson shook her head bitterly. “That’s not my Saviour Virus. Even as I was giving that interview, I knew things had started to go wrong in the trials, but I didn’t want to
admit it. I was desperately hoping I could fix things, but I haven’t succeeded – the cancers are growing back in the trial patients. So you see, Celia, the only true Saviour Virus is in
you.”

Celia grappled with the enormity of what she was hearing.

“Have you any idea how wonderful this feels?” Hudson said giddily. “The first couple of years after you were taken were torturous for me. The stress of thinking that you were
out there, carrying a fatal virus for which I had no cure. Every day I dreaded the news of an outbreak.”

“Am I meant to feel sorry for you?” Celia spat.

“No, Celia, I don’t expect your sympathy. But I took a terrifying risk. I couldn’t let my backers know you’d been abducted from the clinic. They would never have let me
try again. I told them that I’d destroyed you as they’d instructed and, eventually, they gave me a second chance. My backers are business people, interested in the billions a cure could
make them, not in the lives it could save, so when they realized that no other scientist was any closer to finding a cure, it confirmed to them what I’d always known; human experimentation
was the only logical way forward. They gave me better facilities, more funding, and I was able to continue my research.”