Desh entered the store’s mini-mart and pulled a thirty-two-ounce bottle of water from the cooler and an orange juice for Smith, and then tore two bananas from a fresh bunch near the register, both for himself, and walked to the counter. The entire time he watched Smith attentively through the transparent storefront to make sure he didn’t open the trunk and try to regain access to his weapons. He and Desh appeared to be on the same side, but that didn’t mean Desh was prepared to trust him. Whatever was going on, and whoever could be believed, the stakes were very, very high, and he was determined to err on the side of paranoia.
A number of nagging questions still gnawed at him. If Kira Miller really did have some of the wealthiest and most powerful people in the world in her pocket as Smith suggested, then why hadn’t she had them use their influence to call off the manhunt? And how was it that she wasn’t better protected? The beneficiaries of her therapy would have an enormous vested interest in her welfare and survival. If she died, so did their longevity. Even if she had refused bodyguards, they would have activated armies of guardian angels, staying in the shadows but ensuring that the Smiths of the world didn’t get nearly as close to her as they had at the motel.
There was far more going on than Desh understood. He was convinced he was fumbling in the dark, feeling the elephant’s trunk and being persuaded it was a snake. He needed to go back to basic principles. If he believed Kira Miller really had been able to optimize her intelligence, it wasn’t much of a stretch to believe she had also successfully developed a longevity therapy. And if this were the case, then all bets were truly off. Smith portrayed himself as being on the side of the angels, and maybe this had largely been true in the past. But what about now, in this situation? What would Smith do if he really did have Kira in his grasp? And what about the people above him? Could Desh trust this group to do the right thing once they had her? Would they simply pry the secret from her and give it to the world? It would take but a single weak link for her to bribe herself to freedom or for someone to take her place. She was the key to unlimited power, and if only a single corrupt person was in the loop, he could obtain her secrets for himself, kill her, and disappear; potentially becoming even a bigger monster than she had been.
Desh believed that dangerous character traits such as megalomania, sadism, and sociopathy tended to be enriched in populations of people who had risen to positions of power and influence. This enrichment was even more pronounced at the top of organizations such as the CIA and the military, to which people with these pathologies tended to gravitate preferentially. This was especially true of Black Operations divisions, which existed in the shadows and had little accountability. Not that there weren’t plenty of good men high up in the chain of command of these organizations with a passion for serving their country and doing what they thought was right. But all it took was one bad apple at or near the top, and Desh was convinced that with a lure this seductive the odds that one existed were almost a hundred percent. So even if Smith was a saint, turning Kira over to him and his agency could be a disaster.
As Desh walked slowly back to the car, completely oblivious to the drizzle hitting his face, he was hit by a stark realization. If he really believed his own logic, there was only one way he could be absolutely certain the longevity therapy would be unveiled for the benefit all the people of the world: if he did so himself. It was a troubling thought. He had no wish to take matters into his own hands, but unless he could find a flaw in his logic it was a prospect he could not ignore.
A few minutes later they were back on the road. Smith took a sip of orange juice and turned to his passenger. “All right,” he said. “We’re refueled and I’ll have you at Griffin’s in less than an hour. So what do you want?” he asked bluntly.
Desh slowly chewed and swallowed a large piece of banana, organizing his thoughts. “First of all,” he began. “I’m in charge. You and your men take orders from me.” He scanned Smith’s face with keen interest, watching for his reaction.
“Go on,” said Smith noncommittally, sliding back the center console to reveal two cup holders and shoving his plastic orange juice container into the one nearest him.
“Secondly, kill the listening and homing devices immediately. The only thing these devices and your surveillance will accomplish is guarantee Kira Miller never tries to contact me again.”
“They didn’t stop her the first time,” noted Smith.
Desh shook his head. “I know how she thinks,” he said firmly. “The reports all say she’s brilliant. And she is. But I know she’s also something far more dangerous: she’s savvy. And she doesn’t make mistakes. She knows you’ll try to use me to get to her and she’ll be more careful than ever.”
“We can track you in a way she can’t detect.”
“Really?” said Desh skeptically. “I wouldn’t count on that if I were you. You’re underestimating her. Trust me, she’d smell you if you were in the next galaxy. I don’t think she’ll come within a thousand miles of me now, knowing that I’m bait. But if she does and then catches your scent, she’ll bolt and we’ll never have another chance.” He stared at Smith with an unwavering intensity. “I want your guarantee on this.”