Sam shook his head. “No risk at all. I have every intention of resetting it every twelve hours religiously—as long as I’m in good health. The only way you die is if I’m already dead, and at that point the fountain of youth won’t do me a lot of good.”
“No risk at all?” said Kira scornfully. “You’re more insane than I thought. What if the receiver fails? And what if your signal can’t make it down to this basement and through my skull? How many bars of reception do you think I get inside my head, anyway?” Her lip curled up in disgust. “Take it out.”
Sam’s eyes blazed, betraying a rage at having been spoken to in this manner, but only for a moment. His eyes quickly returned to normal and he smiled serenely. “Not to worry. The device has two receivers for redundancy. And while the explosive is a few centimeters deep in your skull, the receivers are affixed just a few millimeters below the surface of your skin. And they’re next generation. Won’t be available to the public for another year. Nothing but the best for you, my dear. You could be in a coal mine in West Virginia with your head in a freezer and my call would make it through.”
Kira glared at him but said nothing.
Sam pushed himself off his perch on the table to a standing position on the concrete floor. “So let’s review your options,” he said. “Option one: you tell me the secret, and no one’s reproductive abilities have to be destroyed. I remove the explosive device from your skull and you live a life of luxury—heavily supervised luxury, but luxury nonetheless—while you continue to work on immortality.”
Sam smiled insincerely. “Option two: you don’t tell me, our generation will be the end of the line for humanity, and you’ll end up telling me your secret and working on immortality eventually anyway.”
Kira’s eyes continued to burn with a seething hatred. “As I’ve said,” she hissed in barely contained, clipped tones. “I need to verify that you can do what you say before I make any decisions.”
Sam nodded. “I’ll make sure you get all the evidence you need.”
36
Desh realized it was time to turn his attention toward escape. Even though his watch had been removed and he had been unconscious for an extended period since he had last looked at it, his mind had somehow kept perfect track of time. It was nearing ten o’clock. Sam’s discussion had come to a somewhat logical conclusion, and he would need to leave and reset the booby trap in Kira’s head. He had no doubt planned to end the conversation just prior to having to reset his device for dramatic effect.
When Sam left, would he leave them alone, handcuffed, or would he have them actively guarded? Desh raced through probabilities and options, considering and discarding dozens of strategies. His mind seized on one he thought had a good chance of succeeding. But he would need to interact with the species Homo sapiens dullard, which meant he had to create an avatar personality of the old Desh so he could operate on their delayed level and not arouse suspicion.
Sam’s watch began emitting a series of high-pitched beeps, and he smiled in satisfaction. He pushed a button on his watch and the beeping stopped. “I’m afraid I have to go now, my dear,” he said to Kira. “I have a helicopter waiting for me. And it’s already 9:40. You were unconscious for quite some time. So before I leave, I need to reset the device in your skull. If I don’t—” He spread his hands helplessly. “Well, let’s just say that neither of us wants that.”
He barked an order and seconds later three plain-clothed men had joined him in the basement, each holding a tranquilizer gun. Under any other circumstances they would have been armed with automatic rifles, but Sam was taking no chances that something would go awry and result in Kira’s death.
Sam gestured at Smith’s corpse lying in a pool of blood ten feet away. “I’ll call in a clean-up crew when I’m in the air,” he informed the newcomers. He didn’t offer any other explanation for the body and the men didn’t ask for one.
Sam pointed to the tallest of the three men. “Jim here will be in charge when I’m gone,” he announced to his prisoners. “He’ll take good care of you.” He paused. “Mr. Desh, I’ll be back to interrogate you tomorrow morning. As much as I would enjoy slicing off digits and beating you to within an inch of your life, I’m afraid that truth drugs have become just too damn good to justify this sort of thing. Oh well,” he said in disappointment. “I’m sure the session will prove interesting, nonetheless.”
Sam turned to Kira. “As for you, my dear, you’ll have all the information you’ll need to confirm the activity of our sterility virus very soon.”