The Leaves in Winter (29 page)

Mass said nothing. Leah read his silence as a chance to press the issue.

“We need to take a step back, be sure of what we’re doing. Imagine the repercussions if we get this wrong. We’re talking about the future of everybody. Once you release 3rd Protocol, it can’t be taken back. What kind of New World Harmony will there be if we have to live hundreds of years with a mistake?”

Mass looked into her eyes, saw the changing expressions sweep her face. He knew his wife too well. She was hiding something. Before he gave in, even a little, he needed to probe. It was best to find out now where this was going. He’d assume the worst and confront her with it in hopes of catching her off-guard.

“Testing isn’t the real issue, is it?”

“Of course it is.”

“No, there’s something else. I see it in you. There’s been a change. You’re not sure about the plan anymore, are you?”

“I certainly don’t want to make a mistake, that’s for sure.”

“Is that an answer?”

“What are you asking?” Leah shook with nerves.

Mass took Leah’s hands in his. He was deliberate and calm about his question. “Have you had a change of heart about the plan?”

Leah hesitated. She felt Mass’ withering stare. Her eyes teared up.

Silence shifted allegiances. Mass felt suddenly alone.

“All this talk…the testing…the chronic fatigue, it’s all a smokescreen, isn’t it.”

Leah looked down, said nothing.

Mass roared, “Isn’t it!”

Startled by the outburst, Leah pulled hands away and bolted away from him.

Mass reeled back. “My God! I never thought I’d have to fight
you
about this. You of all people! You know what’s happening to the world. You know there’s little time left to set things right. What don’t you understand?”

Fleeing to the warmth of the fireplace, Leah found the strength to yell back. “It all made sense – until people started dying!”

“You knew what had to happen! We talked about this! There’s no other way!”

Leah turned from the fire to face
Mass.
“There has to be!”

Mass sprung from the chair and gestured wildly. “What part of unsustainability don’t you understand? Should we do nothing and let the perfect storm be the end of everything?”

Leah stood her ground. Her voice softened on reflection but quaked with its confession. “Watching Riya die did it for me. I sat there in horror while she lay on the floor bleeding. I couldn’t imagine – six billion others just like her.”

“You know the alternative. Everyone goes. Everyone dies. That’s where we’re headed. Population doubling, food and water shortages, runaway greenhouse gases, dying oceans, depleted soil, collapse of biodiversity, a state of continual war like you’ve never seen. The collapse of everything humanity has built in 50,000 years. Is that what you’d rather watch?”

Leah’s heart raced. “I know the way I feel.”

“But what do you
think
?”

Unsure of herself until that moment, Leah found resolve taking a definite form. As surely as one thing followed another, what lay ahead suddenly seemed clear. “I can’t stay with you if you go through with this.”

The statement hit the air and shocked them both.

Mass wavered. Leah was too emotional to be saying this merely to call his bluff. “You don’t mean that.”

Leah cried. “I don’t see how I could. Seeing you afterwards would only remind me. Every day, I’d be reminded that none of it had to happen. None of it.”

Mass sat back down. He could see her newfound realization was genuine. Facing the certainty of it left him paralyzed between rage and despair. “Not now. We’ve worked at this for so long. We’re too close.”

Leah stiffened and dried her tears. “Close to what?”

“Everything…”

“It terrifies me.”

“What?”

“Living a hundred…two hundred years in a world gone wrong – knowing it could have been different.”

“It’s already gone wrong!”

“Yes, but I’m not personally responsible for it.”

“We’re all responsible.”

“Maybe but I can’t stop wondering – what kind of trauma would it be to watch six billion people die? You’re asking me to live a long, long time with that. That’s a risk, a burden I don’t want to take on.”

“You’d rather risk doing nothing? You think that’s going to turn out any better?”

Leah headed for the door. “I only have control over myself. I won’t participate – and I can’t stay with you if you go through with it.”

“So it’s never been about the tests – you don’t want the tests any more?”

“Of course I want them. Regardless what you decide to do, we need to know the truth about what we’ve already done. Why is Jayden sterile? And what about the rest of them? We’ve created a secret club. But are they privileged or cursed?”

Unable to say more, Leah quickly left the room.

Mass watched her leave and the room closed in around him.

The crackling of the fire consumed his dreams. A pain and fury enveloped his heart. For all or nothing, for everyone and the two of them, beyond fate, some things simply had to be. Suddenly isolated, he was left to ponder what was next.

The one most dear to him had split his life in two.

One side knew what he must do. The other had a hunch.

Something else must be in store.

Chapter 28

Plenary Session of PEACE

United
Nations Conference Center
,
New York

The cavernous room was dotted with faces. Seated at the lead table, Curtis Labon listened as the Assistant Secretary-General for Policy Coordination and Inter-Agency Affairs finished her speech. Distracted by an incoming text message, Labon split his attention long enough to become concerned. A moment later his thumbs relayed a return message –
meet @
845 UN Plaza 90B 20min
.

Lifting eyes to peer into the relative darkness of the far gallery, Labon caught sight of a conference banner. PEACE –
Population Exposition for the Advancement of a Caring Earth
. Aligned with news just received, the message rang hollow. Just as abruptly, he sensed being out-of-place, sickened at the vestige of hope offered by the assembly around him.

The annual conference he had long sponsored felt mired in the inertia of the day. It was under-energized and over-populated by elite speakers and professional listeners rarely moved to effective action. Messy reality outside the hall suggested only problems had momentum. Labon gathered up his things and headed for the exit. From the podium, a drone of final words filled the room and echoed into the foyer beyond.

“…the profound challenge lies in the fact that most of this population growth will be in less developed countries. Grappling with the greater implications of the global policy dialogue must be the work of current generations. Beyond gathering information and identifying trends, governments need to harness political will, financial resources, and technical innovations on an unprecedented scale. Focusing on current development without a consensus for future maintenance is untenable…”

In the lobby, a young staffer caught up with him. She was energetic and dutiful as an event planner but fragile when it came to a disruptive change in plans.

“Excuse me, sir. Should we expect you at the Parallel Session in Room 6? It follows the break after the next speaker.”

Labon kept walking. “And who is that again?”

She glanced at her hand-held device. “…it’s the Moroccan Deputy-Minister for Foreign Affairs and Cooperation.”

Labon grunted. “Ah, yes. Well, in that case, I have more time than I expected.”

“More time?” She tried following both his intent and accelerated walking pace.

Labon gave her a glance then a more thorough once-over. She was quite attractive in her mini caftan dress. An idea occurred to him.

“Do you think your conference mates can spare you for a few minutes?”

“Me? I think so.”

Labon guided her out the main exit into the open air. “Good. I need you for the next hour, if you don’t mind.” They followed a walkway towards the U.N.’s front entrance on
1st Avenue
. “What’s your name again?”

Buoyed by his attention, she strutted alongside. “Isabella. Isabella Bayner.”

“Of course. I’m a bit distracted; you’ll have to forgive me.” Labon angled them the long way past the busy entrance toward a lineup of taxis waiting for a fare.

A driver hustled around the lead car to hold open a rear door. With an arm around Isabella’s shoulders, chivalrously guiding her, Labon waited for the pivot of her shapely legs into the back seat to fortify his resolve. Ducking in after her, he called out to the driver getting behind the wheel.

“
Trump
One
Tower
.”

The driver did a double take of annoyance. The destination was within walking distance. Curtis slipped a folded hundred dollar bill across the seat.

“Be ready to bring us back in an hour and I’ll double that.”

Glancing between the two of them, the driver kept wild assumptions to himself and became animated. Labon settled back closer to Isabella than was necessary. She held proper poise with cautious wonder in her expression.

The ride was a catapult along two short city blocks. At the base of the sleek Tower, the two of them scurried past an attentive doorman before waiting only a second at a bank of elevators. Lighting up the button for the 90th Floor, Labon used the rush of their ascent as an opportunity to calm the girl’s rising concern.

“I’ve worked on my closing speech for days but with only hours to go, I’m afraid I’m no more confident about it now than when I started. Maybe you could give it a look. I’d appreciate a second opinion.”

Isabella’s visible relief was tenuous. “Certainly.”

Labon showed a smile. “I don’t want it to be too stuffy. I’d like to reach out to a younger audience but I’m not usually the best judge about what works when it comes to that. You understand…”

Isabella held up on commenting. Labon was obviously more savvy than he let on. His excuse for heading upstairs came across weak, making her wary.

Labon entered Unit 90B as if he owned it. Isabella followed as if encountering an enchanted world. The more she saw, the more her reticence faded. Stepping through the breathtaking penthouse, Labon gravitated to the forty-one foot living room. The ceiling was double height; panoramic views from the clear floor-to-ceiling windows were stunning. Isabella wandered, her attention split between sweeping views and elaborate furnishings. Labon spoke as he checked his phone.

“Quite a place, isn’t it? I’ve rented it for the month while I’m in town. It’s a bit extravagant but, as you can see, it’s convenient to
U.N.
Plaza
. If you’d care to make a bid, they’re asking $34 million.”

Labon glanced up and noted Isabella’s attention to the furnishings.

“The way they’ve staged it is quite nice. Someone is eager to sell.”

Labon saw all he needed from his phone. He headed off down a hallway.

“I have a copy of the speech – this way.”

He led her to the master bedroom. She hesitated in the doorway.

Crossing the room, he stopped at a desk, picked up a tablet and tapped it awake.

“If you don’t mind, I prefer you read it in here. I have some private business to attend to in another part of the house.” As Labon stepped out of the room, Isabella felt more comfortable stepping in.

She accepted the tablet with a nod. “No problem.”

Labon closed the bedroom door behind him and returned to the living room. Staring into the view, he waited to answer a knock at the front door. When it came, a woman in a black pantsuit hurried in. She had been there before. Labon knew her as Hannah but also knew she went by other names. Flowing with her was a marked confidence and edgy style, half Special Forces but all Madison Avenue.

He pointed down the hall. “We have company. I’ll explain later.” Labon led her towards the southeast corner dining room, the place farthest away from the master bedroom. Standing by the window, they drew close.

“Tell me what happened.” Labon’s calm facade was gone.

“Like I said, your son Noah was arrested in D.C. It started as a demonstration.”

“What about?”

“Life extension. NCO wants a moratorium on it.”

“New Class Order?”

A nod. “They want a law, something like the thing on cloning.”

“So, what’s the story? Was Noah just there in the crowd or what?”

“I’m not sure. It doesn’t look that way.”

“What do you mean you’re not sure? You were supposed to be following him!”

“I don’t have access to all his social media. He changed plans and was gone before I knew it. He must have received some kind of orders to flash mob.”

“Orders?”

“He and several others showed up at the demonstration ready to engage. While most people were marching on the White House, a group of NCO hardliners formed up in
Franklin Park
. They firebombed a biotech lobbyist office on
K Street
.”

“Jesus!” Labon held a hand to his head. “Don’t tell me he was part of that!”

“It’s being sorted out. He was definitely in
Franklin Park
. They’ve got him on surveillance video.”

Labon turned to the view. “My God, what’s he gotten himself into?”

Hannah was silent.

“Has the media picked up on this? Do they know he’s my son?”

“I don’t think so. If it’s played right, there’s a good chance they won’t.” She hesitated then finished her thought. “…for now, being estranged is on your side.”

Labon paced away from her. “Of all things to get mixed up in…”

“You can’t protect him from himself.”

“And that’s a problem – because I can’t stand by and do nothing.”

“What do you want
me
to do?”

It took a minute before Labon organized his thoughts. “Find out if he needs to make bail. If so, route money through a defense fund, something he won’t connect back to me. Then find out the charges. If there’s a prosecutor, I want name and background. We’ll take it from there.”

“Excuse me for asking, but are you sure Noah would want you to do all this?”

“Doesn’t matter. I want to do it.”

“Sure thing.” Hannah started to go.

“Wait up a second…”

She turned back, expecting additional orders.

Labon shifted away from the window. He looked sideways in the direction of the master bedroom. It was obvious to both of them – he was at odds with himself. Hanging in the balance was a decision he couldn’t take back.

Could there ever be stability in playing it safe? Events he couldn’t have predicted, out of his control, had redefined his equilibrium. Taking the challenge on, he felt part of himself slipping away. In what remained there was a dense core spinning around the point of no return. From that moment on, future decisions would be easier to make – but harder to live with.

Labon pulled out a dining room chair from the table. “Have a seat.”

Intrigued, Hannah sat down. Labon pull out a second chair for himself. He turned it around backwards, straddled it then leaned forward on the backrest.

“You’ve done private investigation work for me for quite a while.”

“That’s right.”

“I hope we can be frank – just between the two of us.”

“I thought we always had.”

“Privately, it’s safe to say some of the things I’ve asked you to do over the past couple of years haven’t been completely ethical.”

“We’ve agreed on everything.”

“And why is that?”

“Let’s just say we have an appreciation for what’s necessary.”

“I like to think it’s because neither of us is bi-polar when it comes to judging right from wrong.”

“Everyone does something someone else thinks is wrong. There are no saints.”

“Exactly. But I wonder – how far does it go.”

“What do you mean?”

“What would you say if I asked you to do something no one else but me thinks is right?”

Hannah paused. “How can you be sure of that?”

“Let’s just say…”

“Something no one thinks is right – including me?”

“Correction. That’s up to you to decide.”

“Based upon business we’ve already done, I’d say the answer is pretty simple.”

“Do tell…”

“If I don’t think something is right, I won’t do it. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks – including you.”

“What if it doesn’t matter to you either way?”

“Then it doesn’t matter.”

Labon stood and turned to the window. “I need someone to disappear.” Just like that a line was crossed, a delicate balance broken. To commit to it was empowering.

Silhouetted against the lofty view, Hannah watched him consider the sky. The full import of what he was suggesting hit her. Without more detail, she let silence be her exclamation.