Ana thanked the woman but refused the offer of a coffee; she was feeling hyped enough at the idea of speaking with someone who knew her brother at the time of his resignation.
She looked at the woman. “You said that James Morwell attempted to kill himself?”
“More than once, I’m told. Of course he didn’t get far… but could you blame him, with a father like Edward Morwell?”
Ana shrugged. “I don’t know anything about…” she began.
“He was a tyrant, believe me. I worked here when Edward Morwell ran the ship. Ruthless? And the way he treated his son… Rumour is that he beat James daily. The poor man never recovered. Ah, here’s Ben.”
Lopez made the introductions and Ben Aronica hitched himself onto the desk and nodded at Ana. “I knew Lal. Not that we were close, but we worked on various projects. He was driven, and worshipped James. When the boss tried to jump off…” Ben raised a forefinger above his head… “the company logo, Lal brought him down. We were all watching. James began spasming well before he reached the plinth. It was… pathetic is the only way to describe what happened.” Ben shrugged. “James stood down after that, then vanished not long after. I’ve no idea where he is now.”
“And Bilal?”
“He resigned a few days after James attempted to kill himself.”
“Do you know why he resigned? Did he give you a reason?”
“I’m sorry. He never said.”
Ana took a breath and said, “Do you know where I might be able to find my brother now, Mr Aronica?”
Ben smiled. “He went back to India, to Kolkata.” He rolled up his right sleeve and accessed his softscreen implant. “And I might even have his address.”
Her heart beating wildly, Ana watched him stroke the screen.
India… she thought; he went back to Kolkata!
Ben said, “Here it is. We were in contact for a while, eight years ago. He sent his address, though of course he might have moved on since then. He was at 1025 Nanda Chowk,” He looked at Ana. “I hope that’ll be some use.”
Ana beamed. “I can’t begin to thank you…” she began, before something caught in her throat.
She thanked them again and made her way from the Morwell Organisation skyscraper, elation filling her chest. The sunlight greeted her as she stepped onto the sidewalk, and the people of New York seemed to be smiling with her.
She made her way to the Times Square obelisk and booked transit to India.
CHAPTER FOUR
IN MIAMI, JAMES Morwell purchased a Porsche 600 horsepower speedboat, moored it at the exclusive Simmons’ Marina, and stocked it with provisions sufficient to last a week. He wondered, while ferrying the cartons aboard the boat, what might have happened had he attempted to set off without food and water: would the boat refuse to start, or would he find himself going in circles and arriving back at the marina, his bid to end his life thwarted once again?
He recalled considering this form of suicide many years ago. He even wondered if, in the year lost to drug and alcohol addiction, he might have made a similar bid, and failed.
He wondered how the Serene would quash his attempt to end his life this time.
He set off at midday and headed south, then set the boat on auto-pilot and retired to the galley. There he cooked himself what he hoped would be his last meal, chicken kiev with roast potatoes, washed down with a bottle of champagne. He carried the tray to the foredeck and, as he sailed steadily away from the Florida coast, sat in the sunlight and ate.
By the end of the meal, and the bottle, he was a little drunk.
As the sun went down he returned to the galley and carried his provisions, box by box, to the foredeck. There he stacked them on top of each other until he had every scrap of food, and all the canisters of water, waiting to be despatched.
The question was, would the Serene allow him to jettison the provisions?
He stood beside the rail and considered the darkening ocean, then reached out and pushed the topmost carton. It tumbled over the side and splashed into the sea. Smiling, he pushed the second box and, encouraged, lifted the third and fourth and pitched them over the rail. Then the last box went over, and the final canister of water, and he laughed aloud in triumph and staggered below-deck to his berth.
The following day he sat in the light of the sun and stared at the horizon as the boat carried him south.
He wanted to die, but he had no desire to suffer the painful effects of starvation. To this end he had brought a supply of heroin, and when the first hunger pangs griped him, he injected himself and slipped into oblivion.
He had no recollection of how many days elapsed; one day phased into another, a long stretch of stupefied euphoria. His world consisted of the dazzling sun and the scintillating sea, the up and down motion of the boat as it rode the swell. At some point he must have switched off the engine, or the boat must have run out of diesel, as it sat becalmed on the ocean, laved alternatively by sunlight and moonlight while he sprawled on a mattress on the foredeck and laughed insanely to himself.
Kat came to him in his dreams, and in his waking hallucinations, offering a solicitous hand — and Lal showed himself too, always sneering.
He passed in and out of consciousness, in and out of periods of clarity, and during the latter he wondered if, truly, this time he might have beaten the Serene.
He was a thousand miles from civilisation and any hope of succour; he had no food and water… He must surely now be close to death?
Had a week elapsed, two? He was weak; he could hardly move from his prone position on the mattress. It was all he could do to raise his head and stare out across the calm waters of the ocean.
He saw flying fish glint in the air, and porpoises arcing from the sea in graceful parabolas.
The same day he made out another silver-blue glint across the foredeck. At first he thought that a flying fish had flopped aboard, but as he raised himself onto his elbows and stared, the glint expanded.
He wondered if this were yet another hallucination. A featureless blue figure sat cross-legged before him on the foredeck, serene in its motionlessness. He smiled at his choice of words. Serene? Very far from… But what did it want?
He sat up, his head spinning, his vision blurring. The figure stared at him; at least, its smooth, featureless headpiece looked in his direction. At last a voice sounded in his head, calm, neutral, soothing. “We want, James Morwell, exactly what you want.”
He blinked. He certainly was hallucinating — but, unlike the other visions that had haunted him, this one was welcome.
“And what is that?”
“An end to the regime of the Serene in this solar system, and… your annihilation.”
He stared at the pulsing blue figure, its depthless innards swirling with a dozen shades of lapis lazuli. “My annihilation?”
“Is that not what you have been attempting for ten years? Is that not why you are here, aboard this boat, in a futile attempt to end you life?”
He bridled. “Futile?”
The Obterek sat like Buddha, calm, unflappable. “Futile, because the Serene would not allow you to kill yourself.”
He laughed. “But how could they stop me this time?”
“You would be found, rescued, brought back from the brink of death. In fact, as we speak, a liner has been diverted and will arrive to effect your rescue in a little under three hours.”
He felt pain and despair well within him. “No!” he cried pathetically. “No, not this time!” He shook his head. “I want to die! You can have no concept of what it’s like to be denied…”
He hung his head and sobbed. He tried to stagger to his feet and pitch himself overboard, but he was far too weak to even climb to his knees.