At that moment George heard voices in the hallway. Vale was coming back. George slipped inside the closet, leaving the door cracked open. The room was dark and smelled of paper.
In a few seconds Vale entered the refrigerator room and flipped on the lights. He was followed by Frank Carson. George nearly gasped at the sight of the man. He looked pale—almost ashen in appearance—with beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. He was clutching his chest and panting like he’d just run a marathon.
Vale went to one of the refrigeration units and punched in a code on the security keypad. The door beeped once, then clicked and opened with a soft hiss. George could see several glass vials of the perilium in a rack on the shelf.
Vale took one of the vials and held it out to Carson. But as Carson reached for it, Vale drew it back again just out of his grasp. “You know, I’m seriously debating whether or not to dock your pay by one dose. Just for sheer incompetence.”
Carson’s hand hung in midair. His eyes went wide and he stammered between gasps of air, “I’m telling you… I didn’t… didn’t see her.”
Vale scowled at him and then finally relented. Carson grabbed the vial and unscrewed the cap with trembling fingers. He swallowed its contents in one gulp and collapsed into the chair at the computer console.
“You didn’t see her?” Vale stood over him, shaking his head. “She followed you all the way from California, you idiot. You didn’t see her?”
But Carson seemed too weak to respond.
Regardless, Vale was not done ranting. He paced the room. “And then you couldn’t even apprehend her without getting shot!”
After a minute Carson sat up again. His breathing had slowed slightly and he wiped the perspiration from his forehead. “I’m telling you… she won’t be a problem. You don’t have to worry about her.”
“And what if she did tell someone else?” Vale said. “We’ll have even more guests.”
“She was…,” Carson wheezed. “She was just bluffing.”
“Well, I’m not sure I trust your judgment anymore, Frank. I don’t need this distraction. Especially now.” He leaned into Carson’s face. “You find out what she knows and who she talked to. Do whatever you need to—just get her to talk!”
Vale stormed out of the room and Carson followed a few seconds later, muttering curses under his breath. From the closet George could see out into the main office, where Vale was moving around. After a short time it appeared he had left the room. George waited several more minutes before gathering enough courage to emerge from the closet. He peeked through the door into the office, saw it was in fact empty, and breathed a sigh.
He returned to his suite, where he found Miriam still asleep, and sat down in the other room to collect his thoughts. And formulate a plan.
Everything had just taken a serious turn for the worse. What he’d seen in Vale’s office convinced him he could no longer trust the man. He could no longer trust anyone in this town.
They were holding a woman prisoner either in the lodge or somewhere in town. And it obviously had something to do with the van he’d seen the other day. This woman had followed Carson from California. But what had Carson been doing in California?
And Carson’s appearance had been more than a little disconcerting. His symptoms were similar to Miriam’s, only more severe. An unsettling thought grew in the pit of his stomach as he wondered again what the other side effects of this substance were.
Right now everyone he had met in Beckon seemed to be in the same predicament as Miriam. Frank Carson and Amanda, the Brownes, the Huxleys, and the Dunhams. Probably even Henderson.
George felt sick inside as he wondered what he’d gotten Miriam into. She had been right about Vale. Judging by the way he had just treated Carson, he seemed to have no trouble exercising his complete authority over everyone in town. They all needed the perilium, and he controlled the supply, which meant he made the rules. Quite the monopoly he had going.
But George was at a point of no return. All moral squeamishness aside, right now his top priority was to make sure Miriam had unfettered access to the perilium. At all costs. Unfortunately that meant he would need to cooperate until he could find a way to change the rules of the game in his favor.
Fortunately Vale was a prisoner too. Miriam had determined that much herself. He was beholden to Nun’dahbi—whoever she was—to keep him supplied. Vale had indicated that she was the only one who actually knew how to make perilium, which meant she was the one with the real power.
Which also meant Vale had a point of vulnerability.
Chapter 28
Later that afternoon, George found Thomas Vale in the great room standing at the windows, gazing out across the mist-covered landscape. Vale turned from the window, and George could see he was holding a drink.
“I trust Miriam is resting comfortably,” Vale said. “Amanda told me what happened this morning.”
“It gave me a pretty good scare. You didn’t tell me perilium would have that kind of side effect.”
“A minor consequence,” Vale said and sipped his drink. “But they can be avoided easily enough. Fatigue is one of the early warning signs that she’s ready for another dose. I suppose we should have given her one last night before going to bed. But I wouldn’t worry about it. It won’t happen again.”
George was taken aback at how casually Vale seemed to dismiss the incident. But he knew he needed to refrain from being overly confrontational at the moment. “How can you be sure?”
“Trust me, George, I don’t like it any more than you do. But we must deal with it and move on. I’ve survived for more than a hundred and thirty years without serious incident. I’m living proof it can be done.”
George shook his head. It was odd to think he was talking to a man who had lived through the Civil War, not to mention the entire twentieth century and now well into the twenty-first. Vale had seen so much history and yet he’d seen it only from this small corner of the world. No wonder the man could be so callous. He’d been the center of his own universe for too long.
“I’m curious…” George went to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a drink. It had been a while since he’d had a formal business meeting, but now he found himself slipping easily into negotiation mode. It was just like riding a bike. “Everyone in Beckon seems to have a very specific function. You’ve given me some idea of what my role here would entail, but what exactly will you need me to do?”
They sat down on the leather couches, and Vale drummed his fingers on the wide armrest. “Our lives here are about balance. We have to maintain a very delicate balance in order to succeed—for all of us to succeed. And what I need is your help to maintain the status quo.”
“What status quo?”
“With the N’watu,” Vale said. “We have a very old treaty with them. We give them what they want, and in turn they give us what we need.”
George smiled inwardly. This was an interesting bit of information. Vale had obligations himself. Some sort of symbiotic relationship with the N’watu.
“So obviously you need a steady supply of perilium from them, but what exactly do they want in return?”
Vale took another sip of his drink. “Isolation.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The N’watu are a very ancient culture and fiercely xenophobic,” Vale said. “I first arrived in Wyoming back in 1878 looking for gold. And when I stumbled across the cave entrance, they captured me. I had to think pretty quick in order to save my life.”
George’s eyebrows went up. “They were going to kill you?”