A week after Kate had been discharged, Richard Halliwell buzzed Simone, annoyed that Eduard Dolinsky was late for their pre-luncheon discussion. ‘Where’s Dolinsky?’
Simone Carstairs took a deep breath and glared at the intercom on her desk. Even with the volume turned down low, she recognised Richard’s mood, a mood that matched her own. Ever since he had been invited to run for the Republican nomination for the Presidency, Simone sensed he had placed her outside his inner circle. Esposito had not returned her calls, and she and Richard slept together far less regularly. Not that she missed the sex, if it could be called that, but sex was one of the most important holds she had over Halliwell. Nor was she concerned with secrecy in the labs; Simone accepted it was not necessary for her to know the details of classified medical research, but lately the aura of secrecy around Richard had extended well past the laboratories, and for the first time since she’d been his personal assistant she’d not been invited to lunch. Simone’s antennae were finely tuned and she was wary about what Richard might be up to. She got up from her desk determined she was not going to conduct a conversation over an intercom.
‘I’m not Dolinsky’s keeper, Richard,’ Simone said defiantly, taking the seat beside Halliwell’s desk without being asked. ‘For whatever reason he’s in Alan Ferraro’s office.’ Simone knew that the Russian scientist had been there for over an hour. She had taken a dislike to Alan Ferraro from the first day she’d met him but tolerated the shifty accountant for the same reason Richard did – his expertise at keeping the share price high and the authorities none the wiser as to the contents of the company accounts.
‘Perhaps you’d like to ask him what he’s doing there?’ Simone suggested.
‘Some time ago he asked me if he could browse through some of Ferraro’s accounting books that are hard to get in Russia, and I don’t see anything wrong with that,’ Halliwell barked. ‘What’s eating you? Get out on the wrong side of the bed today?’
‘Not that you’d notice,’ Simone said, ‘but since you’ve asked, is there some reason why I’m not invited to lunch today?’
‘Oh I see! It all becomes clear.’ Halliwell was becoming increasingly tired of Simone’s all-pervasive presence. Lately she was looking her age, he thought, glaring at her. Once a woman reached forty she was on the downhill run and Simone had reached that milestone two months ago, something she had not been backward in reminding him of when he’d let the occasion pass without the usual bunch of flowers. ‘This may come as a surprise to you, Simone, but there are some things around here you don’t need to be involved in!’
‘I’m fully aware of that, Richard,’ Simone replied icily, ‘but I wouldn’t have thought a lunch would be classified top secret. For what it’s worth, although why I’m bothering to protect you in your present frame of mind is beyond me, I wouldn’t trust your new Russian scientist any more than I would trust Alan Ferraro. It’s not the first time he’s been in Ferraro’s office, but if you’re happy with that be it on your own head.’ Simone stormed out of Richard’s office, almost bumping into Dr Dolinsky on her way through.
Richard Halliwell’s luxurious private dining room was on the same floor as his office suite, next to the lavishly appointed Halliwell boardroom. A Picasso and a Rembrandt, part of the stunning Halliwell art collection, were included on the panelled walls, as well as the odd Caravaggio and a sculpture by Bernini. Exotic pot plants and lampshades in the Halliwell colours of gold and black had been added to the gaudy trappings of power. The far wall was plate glass that stretched from floor to ceiling. The twenty-seat dining table was polished silky oak, and today there was a setting for four at one end of the table. Each dining chair had a Halliwell seal sewn into the backrest – a black circle with two bright gold crossed syringes and a test tube positioned through them, the seal edged in gold with the words ‘Philanthropy before Profit’. Beyond the dining room a set of double doors led to a large kitchen equipped with state-of-the-art stainless steel appliances. Three chefs, as well as a small army of young, slim waitresses and kitchen hands, all personally selected by Halliwell, were standing by; the waitresses linked by a common denominator of a D-cup.
Imran and Kate waited in the large entertainment foyer at a bar that would not have been out of place in any five-star boutique hotel. The two scientists had decided that it would be a waste not to sample some of the Halliwell cellar and in the afternoon they would work in their offices on the thirty-sixth floor rather than return to the hot lab.
‘Doesn’t do things by halves, does he?’ Kate observed, sipping her Clos des Goisses Philipponnat champagne as they waited for Halliwell and Dolinsky to appear.
‘Ah, there you are, Kate,’ Richard Halliwell said smoothly, ushering Dr Dolinsky into the dining room. ‘Welcome back. I trust you’re fully recovered?’
‘Fully thank you, Dr Halliwell,’ Kate replied. Once again she had that strange feeling about Halliwell that sent a shiver down her spine.
‘Please, it’s Richard, and this is Dr Eduard Dolinsky.’
Kate extended her hand towards Dolinsky. He was slim and of just average height. His handshake was unassuming but Kate knew from what Curtis and Imran had told her that the Georgian scientist was often intolerant of those who might not meet his exacting standards, and very ambitious for both himself and Islam.
‘Shall we?’ Halliwell gestured towards the table as Karen, his young maitre d’, hovered in the background.
‘Here’s to a very successful program,’ Halliwell said, raising his champagne flute towards Kate. ‘I trust everything is satisfactory in the laboratories?’ he asked, when the staff had withdrawn having served the first course of crab chowder.
‘The laboratories are first class, Dr Halliwell,’ Imran replied.
‘Please, it’s Richard,’ Halliwell offered again with a quick, mechanical smile. ‘We’re going to be family by the time we’ve finished working on this.’ Kate froze as Halliwell placed his hand on her thigh. She was about to remove it when he slowly ran his hand down to her knee and removed it himself before resuming the conversation.
‘And the monkeys?’
‘They’re still restless, Dr Halliwell,’ Kate said, deliberately using his title. ‘But I would be too if I was part of this program. I think what we’re doing is extremely dangerous.’ Kate made no attempt to hide the anger flashing in her green eyes.
‘Very dangerous,’ Halliwell agreed urbanely, ‘but in Dr Dolinsky here, and in you and Professor Sayed, I couldn’t wish for the experiments to be in more capable hands.’
‘What will your role be in this,’ Imran asked, sensing that his young protege was about to give the CEO of Halliwell Pharmaceuticals her legendary ‘rough end of the pineapple’.
‘As you’re aware, Eduard will be leading the research and I’ll be watching at a distance, putting on a biosuit occasionally to see how you’re getting on, just to keep my hand in,’ Halliwell replied. ‘I still have a day job,’ he added, turning to look at Kate and smiling mechanically again, ‘but I’m sure you’ve been told that our mission is to try to find out what might be possible because if we can do it we have to assume that the terrorists may be able to do it as well.’
‘What’s your view, Eduard?’ Kate asked, keen to determine whether the Georgian scientist had a voice, let alone an opinion.
‘We live in very dangerous times,’ Eduard replied. ‘I think it is possible we will be building a virus from scratch before too long,’ he opined, echoing Kate’s, Imran’s and Curtis’ fears.
‘In our discussions before lunch, Eduard and I were talking about the coming threat from terrorists. It’s not only here that Americans are vulnerable. I’m particularly concerned at what might happen overseas, including the Beijing Olympics,’ Richard Halliwell said, steering the group in the direction that he intended to focus on. ‘It will also be important for us to develop effective vaccines against genetically engineered viruses.’
‘Which may not be all that easy,’ Kate said, this time lifting Richard Halliwell’s hand off her thigh and placing it firmly back on his own.