Bone Music
“But it worked,” she said. “They each got triggered.”
“Yes. But unlike in the animal testing he’d done, they didn’t direct their aggression outward. They directed their aggression at what they saw as the real source of their fear. Themselves. Their minds and the bodies those minds controlled. We did everything we could to stop them. But imagine the strength you just showed Frederick Pemberton channeled entirely into self-destructive impulses, along with aggression toward anyone or anything who tried to block those impulses once they were triggered. And imperviousness to any drugs we could dart them with. Imagine that, and you will have some sense of the nightmare Dylan Cody unleashed in our labs.”
Our labs, she thinks. A secure location. Where? An island? She doubts that’s in the file, and she doubts he’d tell her the truth if she asked.
“You tested all these men at once?” she asks.
“No. The second, third, and fourth all went in believing there was something inherent in their character that would allow them to improve on the results of the man who went before. After Dylan convinced them of this, of course.”
“And then you shut it down?”
“And then Dylan came to me and told me he thought the problem was that we were only testing it on men. And that we should start testing it on women. And then I shut it down.”
“So he left the company?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t have him followed?” she asked.
“For a time. He bounced from city to city. Worked odd jobs so far beneath his pay grade I thought he might disappear forever. He was drinking heavily. It was clear there was no connection to family. No friends. His uncle passed away several years ago. There’s an inheritance of some kind stashed away. But he doesn’t spend it very often. If there’s a lot to spend, that is.”
“Not a lot to a man with his own helicopter, probably,” she says.
“Touché.” Cole smiles, but his smiles are becoming more strained with each passing minute of this flight. “I thought his failure, what happened to those men, had broken him.”
“And you were wrong,” she says.
Cole sits forward, resting his elbows on his knees and staring directly into her eyes. “If I’d had one inkling of what he was going to do to you, Charlotte, I would have stopped him. You must know this. You must believe this.”
“How?”
“I would have had no shortage of ideas on that front. I guarantee you. I don’t run a convenience store. I’m the CEO of one of the most powerful companies in the world.”
There’s no arguing with the icy conviction in his tone.
“So that’s why Zypraxon works on me?” she asks. “Because I’m a woman?”
“No.”
She must be visibly startled by his answer. He gives her a few seconds to recover.
“Dylan says he altered the formula a bit and tested it in another woman before you. The results were apparently as catastrophic as he should have expected.”
“Did she . . .”
“He says she agreed to it, knowing the risks. But I no longer put much stock in anything Dylan says. Do you?”
“You tell me. Your history with him is . . . longer than mine.”
Is he wincing or smiling or both? She can’t tell.
“What do you want from me, Cole Graydon? Just my blood?”
“You’re angry with me. Even after all I’ve told you. Can you tell me why?”
“You allowed him to do this.”
“That’s not true. I told you, I had no idea he was even in Arizona, much less that he’d made contact with you under false pretenses. When he came to me after the mess he made with those bikers, he was desperate. He was pretending like he’d planned it all, but it was clear he hadn’t. He’d lost you, and he was on the run, and he knew that both of you would be in serious trouble if I didn’t step in right away.”
“You put me under constant surveillance. You allowed him to watch my every move.”
“No, I watched your every move, because you were a miracle, Charlotte, and even you knew it. Because the drug was working for the first time, and on top of that, you seemed determined to actually use it. As for your surveillance, I fed him only what I wanted him to see, which was almost nothing. I also kept law enforcement from following a trail from that biker massacre to your uncle Marty’s front door in Altamira. Right now Dylan’s holed up in a shack outside of Tucson under constant surveillance, and he’ll be there for the rest of his natural life if I so choose. Or someplace worse.”
“He said I had to perform. He said I had to put on a show for all of you. He said you were so rich and powerful there was no outrunning you.”
“He was wrong, and I’m here to tell you how.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m here to tell you how to make us all go away, if that’s what you want. If that’s truly what you want. I’m here to do the thing Dylan didn’t do in Arizona.”
“What’s that?”
“Give you a choice.”
“I’m listening.”
“What you did tonight, it was remarkable. It required a level of bravery unlike any I’ve ever seen. And if you would like to keep doing it, I can make that happen. I can make it happen in a much safer and more controlled way. I can provide the support and the tools you need to remove all the kinks, shall we say, in tonight’s operation, so that you can take some of the worst human monsters out of circulation for all time.”
“And what do you get out of it?”
“You would, in essence, of your own free will, become our test subject. But in that capacity, we would treat you with the utmost care and respect, provided you followed certain guidelines.”
“Such as?”
“Extensive medical testing after each use of the drug. Allowing yourself to be monitored as well. When you’re not pursuing a subject like Pemberton, your life would be your own. Altamira. Marty. Luke. The new resort that’s set to open soon. I imagine there will be employment opportunities there. For all three of you. If you’re interested.”
Because you own the place now, she thinks.
“And what about Dylan? Will I be working with him?”
“Not directly, no.”
“But what’s the point? What will the testing be for?”
“The goals remain the same.”
“You’re gonna find a way to sell this drug? To make it work in everyone? That’s insane.”
“Of course not. The goal will be a stable, restrained, marketable version of Zypraxon that will do nothing more than inhibit those elements of the panic response that are counterproductive to survival mechanisms in populations at risk of being exposed to severe violence.” He seems comforted by this string of buzzwords and marketing speak; he smiles wistfully, like a man who’s just recounted a fond memory of his hometown. “The goal will be a drug that could have saved your mother’s life.”
“You’re gonna start marketing a drug that allows women to rip men in half?”
“Stable. Restrained. It won’t happen overnight. It will be years before we get there. But with you, we’re closer than we’ve ever been. And I imagine the breakthroughs along the way will be considerable. To say nothing of the women whose lives will be saved by your work before then. How many more masks do you think Pemberton would have made if you hadn’t stopped him tonight?”
“I don’t actually know what you’ve done with him, so he could still end up making more.”
“One thing at a time, Charley.”
“OK. And the other choice?” she asks.
“Walk away. And we all pretend the last week or so never happened. I might keep some tabs on you, but only to make sure you aren’t sharing too extensively about our time together. But your life will be your own, albeit . . . a little less exciting than if you had chosen to work with us.”
“You’d let me just walk away after everything you told me?”
“After everything you’ve done, for sure, Charley.” She can’t tell if he’s referring to her so-called bravery or the multiple hacks Bailey’s committed on her behalf.
“OK. And Dylan?”
“He would have to die.”
At first she thinks his gentle, conciliatory smile is a sign he’s kidding, but as it fades and his eye contact doesn’t waver, she realizes he’s absolutely serious. For the next few seconds there’s only the muffled chop of the rotary blades overhead as the helicopter swings back to the west.
“You’re serious?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“So if I refuse to work with you, you’ll let me go back to my life, but you’re gonna . . . what? Hunt Dylan down and shoot him?”
“It’ll be more elegant than that, but that’s the basic idea, yes.”
Everything else the man has said to her tonight has felt clinical, rehearsed down to the last word, but there’s something in his expression now that seems raw and electric. She wonders if she had a similar look in her eyes when she snapped Pemberton’s wrist. He’s out for some kind of revenge, and he’s using her to do it.
“Why?” she asks.
“Why? He gave you a drug without your knowledge that might have caused you to tear yourself apart.”
“You don’t care about me. You don’t even know me.”