“I’ve come to see you, Mr. Hughes.”
“What’s this regarding?”
“Citium Holdings.”
The words hung in the air, neither man moving for a moment.
Desmond held out an arm. “Let’s speak in the conference room, Mister…”
“Pachenko. Yuri Pachenko.”
He walked past Desmond, seated himself, and declined an offer for water. He took his raincoat off, a light film of water on it. Scars covered his forearms—burn scars, similar to the ones on Desmond’s legs. Desmond immediately averted his eyes when he realized what they were.
In a slow, level voice, Yuri asked, “What are you trying to create here, Mr. Hughes?” His English was excellent, his accent slightly British.
“Please, call me Desmond. Ah, if you’re asking about Icarus Capital, we invest in companies with the potential to shape the future. We—”
Yuri held a hand up, waited for Desmond to stop.
“You misunderstand me. I’d like to hear what you don’t tell everyone who walks through your door. Tell me your true vision, the one you think might scare people, the one you fear is too grand.”
Desmond leaned back in the chair. There was something about this man. His serenity, his directness. Desmond instantly felt a level of trust with Yuri. He let the words spill out. He was almost shocked to hear himself saying them.
“I want to create a world where no child has to watch their family burn. Where no child is raised by someone who doesn’t love them. A world where madmen don’t fly planes into buildings and the economy’s more than a worldwide casino.”
“And what else?”
Desmond hesitated, glanced away.
“That’s the world you want to create. What do you want, Desmond?”
“I want to create a world where any person can be repaired, no matter how broken their body or mind or heart.”
A smiled curled the corners of Yuri’s mouth. “You think that’s possible?”
“I believe we’re witnessing the beginning stages of a technology explosion that will someday make anything possible.”
“What if I told you that the technology you’re describing is already in development?”
“Is that what Citium is building?”
“Among other things.”
“What sorts of other things?
“Projects that would interest you. Projects that would give you what you so dearly desire: purpose, the potential to truly change this world. Are you interested, Desmond?”
“Yes.”
They spoke for almost two hours. At the end of their meeting, Desmond committed to come to London, where more details would be revealed.
As he was walking Yuri to the door, he asked, “What’s it called? The device you’re building?”
“The Looking Glass.”
Day 11
5,200,000,000 Infected
2,000,000 Dead
Chapter 75
The Red Cross plane flew through the night, over the Atlantic, toward the Shetland Islands, roughly a hundred miles north of mainland Scotland.
Over Spain, Avery had made a tough decision: to fly around Great Britain and Ireland. They had been lucky that no planes had intercepted them while crossing Continental Europe; she was less optimistic about flying over the UK. But going around meant burning more fuel, so it was a costly gambit. As the southern tip of Shetland loomed, fifty miles away, the plane’s engines began sputtering. She wiped her palms on her pants, depositing the nervous sweat. She gripped the yoke and disabled the autopilot.
As she began their descent, she realized fuel wasn’t their only problem. Or their biggest.
In the passenger compartment, the sound of the sputtering engines woke Peyton. She lay in a sleeping bag on the plane’s floor, facing Desmond.
He was looking back at her.
The engines sputtered again. The plane was descending rapidly.
Desmond realized it too; he stood, gripped the back of a chair, pulled himself toward the cockpit door, and threw it open.
Peyton followed close behind. In the pilot’s seat, Avery was frantically twisting dials on the instrument panel.
In her headset, she said, “Scatsta ATC, do you copy?”
Through the plane’s windshield, Peyton saw a wall of white. The cloud broke, and she got her first glimpse of the ground: dark green rolling hills, poking through a blanket of thick fog.
The night sky was streaked in shades of bright green and blue. She’d never seen anything like it. It took her breath away. She knew what she was seeing: the Aurora Borealis. It seemed to be pointing their way, fighting a losing battle with the fog.
A wind shear hit the plane. Peyton lost her balance and fell into Desmond, who steadied himself with one hand and caught her with the other. Instead of releasing her, he kept his arm around her, gripping her shoulder, pressing her body to his.
“How’s it going, Avery?”
“Peachy.” She didn’t look back. She worked the yoke, trying to keep the plane level. “We’re out of fuel. No visibility. Gale force winds. Air traffic control isn’t responding.”
The plane rocked again in the force of the wind.
“Oh, and I should also mention: this is by far the largest plane I’ve ever flown. Just saying.”
Desmond took his arm away from Peyton, leaning forward to make eye contact with Avery. “Look, you can do this. We’re not expecting a miracle, okay? Just slow it down and get us on the ground.”
Avery said nothing, only nodded.
“How can we help?”
The sarcasm was absent from Avery’s tone when she replied. “Just strap yourself in tight. Make sure there’re no loose items. And put your helmet and body armor on.”
In the passenger compartment, Desmond helped strap Avery’s body armor onto Peyton. She inhaled sharply when he tightened the strap; her chest was still badly bruised from her escape from the Kentaro Maru.
“Too tight?” he asked.