Free The Scioneer by Peter Bouvier Page A

Lennon’s sake.’
    ‘Where is the
book Lekky?’
    ‘It’s in
a thumbprinted Smarte Locker in Victoria International. Listen,
I’ll make you a deal…’
    ‘I’m
listening.’
    ‘I’ll
give you the book, and y ou let us go.’
    Delić sucked his
teeth and shook his head. Lek could see that he was slipping off
the hook. ‘No. You know? Something just isn’t right here. I think
we’ll just go and see Mr P, and I’ll take my half a mill, thank you
very much.’
    ‘You can
have the cash too.’
    ‘The
hundred grand? ’
    ‘Yes,
it’s in the locker. C100,000 is a drop in the ocean compared to
what you could make with those formulae, but it’s
yours.’
    ‘OK, so
tell me this, Mr smart-arse lab-rat Doctor Gorski, what’s to stop
me killing you now, slicing your thumb off and taking it all for
myself - the recipe book and the
creds?’
    Lek
hadn’t considered that, but he felt he wa s on a roll and tried his luck.
    ‘Well, for one,
Pechev won’t be too impressed if he ever finds out. And he would
find out. Personally, I wouldn’t want to be looking over my
shoulder for the rest of my life. John Lennon’s ashes, I’ve only
been doing it for a few hours and I’m already wrung out. But think,
Delić - you’re a smart man - if you’re going this make this happen,
you’re going to need somebody who understands extract conversion,
grafting, DNA sequencing, scion-production – I could be your man on
the outside. Quid pro quo. You know it makes sense.’
    There
followed a long drawn-out silence which Delić eventually
shattered, ‘Stop fucking
crying bitch! I’m trying to think here!’ He looked again into Lek’s
eyes and was finally convinced. He saw a vision of himself playing
old-school arcade games in Pechev’s office, standing on the balcony
at night perhaps, smoking Castros and listening to the symphony of
gang violence from the streets. He leaned across the coffee table
and picked up a glass of Juniperus. He nodded warily, ‘OK, you’re
coming with me. You’ve got a deal. But if you try anything…’ and he
pointed at the Meister on the table…. ‘it’s you and her. Do you understand?’
    ‘I
understand,’ said Lek, picking up the second glass, ‘What should we
drink to?’
    ‘Do I look like
I give a fuck?’ said Delić.
    ‘To the future
then!’
    ‘Whatever, dickhead - the future,’ chorused Delić
half-heartedly, before raising the glass in a parody of salutation
and draining it in one mouthful.
    Lek
watched as a ripple of confusion clouded his expression, saw his jaw slacken and his
pupils dilate, and without a word, Delić slumped to the ground and
smashed his head against the tile-floor. He was out
cold.
    There was
a few seconds’ silence before Lek explained, ‘I spiked the drinks
while you were crying in the corner. Pure sloth extract. Good for
insomnia. He should be dead to the world for a few hours.’ He threw
an empty gel-cap vial onto the coffee table. ‘And I should never
have trusted you.’
    ‘I just…
wanted to keep you safe.’
    ‘Keep me
safe! By handing me over to this guy?!’ Lek gave the unconscious
Delić a soft kick in the ribs.
    ‘He had a
knife to my face, for Ringo’s sake! A knife!’ Crystal fired back,
suddenly furious. ‘And let me remind you, Lek Gorski, that I
haven’t heard from you in months. And this is what you bring back?
Why the fuck should I care what happens to you? Perhaps you might
explain why you just vanished off the face of the
Earth?’
    ‘Because
they told me to!’ Lek shouted. He walked across the room and sat
down again on the beanbag. ‘They had a… quiet word in my ear, a few
months back. Told me that I shouldn’t be touching any of the
company’s products, including you. Said I should keep my distance
if I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life creating chemical
cocktails one-handed.’ He shook his head despondently. ‘What a
mess.’
    Crystal wasn’t
ready to let up. ‘And now you turn up, out of the blue,