Haesel: The Prophecy Witch (Conspiracy of Fates Book 1) Page 3

  “Thank you all for coming. I would like to inform and reassure everyone, first and foremost, that there is no need for panic.” He held up his hands, palms facing the crowd and took a minute to look around at everyone. Flashbulbs exploded. Each photographer determined to get the best shot to give their newspaper the front page edge over all the others.

  “We have been studying this type of disease for some time,” he continued, “and there are plenty of other diseases that cause clotting, so we had a good head start.” He gave a little wink, one side of his mouth twisting upwards. I shuddered involuntarily.

  “I am pleased to announce as head of VialCorp,” he continued, “that we expect a solution to the SACL Virus to be available within the next five to seven days.” He paused for dramatic effect and leaned forwards, gripping the edges of the podium with both hands, and his tone became more serious.

  “Due to the virus causing clotting, speed was paramount, and we have pulled out all the stops to make this happen. The treatment will be a series of tablets, definitely two at the moment, maybe more, designed to thin the blood and strengthen the immune system, increasing white blood cell count. It contains a powerful antiviral agent that we have developed here at VialCorp, to surround and protect the blood cells, weakening the virus should a person become infected. This tablet will be a stop-gap until a way is found to neutralise the virus. We at VialCorp advise everyone to take this medication, young and old alike, to protect yourself and your children. The tablets will be rolled out from your local doctor’s surgery or health centre.” He straightened up and clapped his hands together in front of him.

  “OK, folks, we’re pretty busy here, as I’m sure you can all imagine, so I’ll update as soon as we have a closer timeframe for release. Thank you, and don’t worry.” He pointed his finger at the cameras, swept his hand in a semi-circle, and looked at each one in turn. The cameras set off like a lightning storm. “VialCorp has your back,” he said, grinning. The press surged forward shouting questions, but he turned on his heel and walked swiftly back through the large glass doors into the building. Police and security were left battling the press.

  “Wow, always the showman,” I said. “I swear I can actually see that man’s ego surrounding him.”

  “He’s a complete two-faced, lying arsehole,” said Eve. “I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. The whole company is corrupt and untouchable.”

  She did have a point, I conceded. VialCorp was the largest of all the big pharma companies and was responsible for developing the majority of the world’s vaccinations and medical treatment products. A monster corporation, they were also known to not be wholly ethical in their product manufacture and testing protocols, having paid out billions in the past in damage lawsuits and, more recently, one of the largest health care fraud settlements in history. A liability exemption clause was now put in place and meant they had free rein to manufacture products without repercussion. We now had to rely on trust alone that their aim to prevent all manner of illness worldwide was true. Airtight confidentiality agreements ensured that anyone who left the company would not talk.

  Many individuals and families of people suffering permanent damage, and even death, from their drugs now had no chance of any compensation. Many had tried to bring about legal cases, only to be squashed flat when they eventually reached court. Everyone could be bought when you had that much money, and Dr Malicen associated with the elite, the top of the rich lists, billionaire bankers, and business moguls. He had his fingers in many pies and owned many people. He could get away with murder if he wanted. As the payouts would indicate, he already had.

  I felt a knot of apprehension in my stomach. “I don’t like the feel of it,” I said.

  “You’re not kidding,” Eve replied, and we both stood there, quietly, lost in our thoughts. Eve came out of the trance first.

  “Hey,” she said suddenly, pointing her finger at me, “don’t you know someone who works at VialCorp?” I looked at her and shook my head, my chin wrinkling. “Yes, you do,” Eve pushed on urgently. “He used to work with Thea. Ooh, what was his name?” She pressed her fingertips to her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut.”

  “If you’re talking about Mick, I haven’t spoken to him in years. I needed the clean break.”

  “Yes, yes, Mick, that was it. You could go and see him. He would still talk to you. He’s been there years and was good friends with your mum, wasn’t he? You could see if he knows anything?” She fired these points at me, her hands becoming more animated by the minute.

  “Eve, I don’t even know if he works there anymore, and we have no idea what’s going on, if anything. Besides, it would be weird me just turning up on him after all this time.”

  Eve was always straight in, feet first, before thinking, although her proactive enthusiasm was inspiring, she could convince a non-swimmer to jump in at the deep end with her ‘you can do it’ exuberant attitude.

  “Well, let’s see if he does still work there,” she said, dashing off into the kitchen.

  I followed her, curious myself.

  “Right,” she said, grabbing her phone. “What’s his surname?”

  “Jenkins,” I replied, and she googled ‘Mick Jenkins, VialCorp.’ Within seconds the internet had provided the answer.

  “Yep, he’s still there,” she said triumphantly. “Right, call him tomorrow morning and see if he’ll talk to you.” She stretched her neck towards me, her eyes wide and insisting.

  “OK,” I said.

  “Wait, really?” Her eyebrows shot up, and an almost lunatic grin spread across her face.

  “Yes, really, I agree. This just doesn’t sit right, and there’s no harm in asking,” I said with a shrug. My usual stance of overthinking everything was now thrown out of the window. I couldn’t explain the feeling I had about this. It was unnerving with all the strange things that had been happening to me today, hearing my mum’s voice, being suspended in the air, the flashes of light, the deer… And Rosa had definitely been acting strange. Now that I thought about it, there had been more weird things going on than I’d realised, and that made me want to find out more.

  Eve and I chatted for the next half an hour. At the door, we hugged each other, and I promised I would call her in the morning with any news.

  4

  My dreams were troubled. Full of people and places I didn’t know. Sinister beings and shadows lurked—snapshots of time. My daughter was lost. I caught glimpses of her and tried to get to her. She turned and saw me, reached out, then fell off the edge and disappeared. I was choking. I couldn’t breathe.

  I woke suddenly, sweating and gasping for air. I had been crying in my dream, and my nose and throat had blocked. My face was wet with tears; it was so real. I flung off the covers and grabbed my phone, throwing on my dressing gown. Dialing Rowan’s number, I blew my nose and listened to the rings. She picked up, sounding groggy. “Hello? Mum?”

  “Rowan, are you okay?” I asked, fresh tears spilling.

  “Yes, why? It’s 4:20 a.m. Mum. Has something happened? Are you okay?”

  Relief flooded my body, making me shaky, and I sat down on the landing. “Yes, I’m fine, don’t worry. Sorry to call so early. It’s really silly, I know, but I had some terrible nightmares. They were so real, and I just wanted to check that you were okay. Sorry, sweetheart.”

  “Aww, that’s awful. I’m fine, Mum, don’t worry. Are you sure you’re okay? Shall I call you later?” she asked.

  “No, no need. I’m fine now, honestly. I’ve got lots to do today, so that will keep me busy. Just have a good day.”

  “Okay, you can call me whenever you want Mum, you know that,” Rowan said, and I knew she meant it.

  “Sorry I woke you,” I said, feeling better. “I love you.”

  “Love you more,” she replied before hanging up.

  4:30 a.m. on a Saturday, and now wide awake, wasn’t how I planned to start the day.

  By 9 a.m. most of the chores that needed doi
ng were ticked off, including collecting fresh herbs, which I had tied in bundles and hung up to dry. I made some tea and sat down to call Mick, googling the number on my phone. The main VialCorp number answered with an automated message, giving me several options to press for various departments. I didn’t need any of them, so I let them run through again and decided just to wait. Silence usually meant you got connected to a person. Sure enough, a female voice answered in an authoritative voice.

  “Good morning, you’re through to VialCorp, Brenda speaking. How may I direct your call?”

  “Oh, hello, err, yes, could you put me through to Mick Jenkins, please?”

  “Do you have an appointment?” came the reply.

  “No, I’m his niece,” I lied, not knowing why I did that. I didn’t even know if he had siblings. I felt the heat rise in my face at the thought of being caught out.

  “Dr Jenkins is only seeing people by appointment, including telephone calls. Would you like me to check his diary?” Brenda said efficiently but in a monotone voice that suggested she had said that line many times before.

  “Yes, please.”

  I could hear her tapping the keyboard for longer than I would have expected for her just to check a diary. I waited, listening to her breathing heavily down the phone, her headset microphone was too close to her nose and magnified the sound.

  “Dr Jenkins’ diary is full for the next three weeks. He has a telephone slot available on July second at 11 a.m. Would you like me to schedule that in for you?” she asked.

  “Oh,” I said again, “couldn’t I just have a quick word with him. I only need a minute.” My voice had an exasperated edge to it that I tried, and failed, to hide.

  “I’m afraid not. Dr Jenkins has meetings all day, so would you like me to schedule the second in for you?” she tried again, in a brisk fashion that had me imagining her pursing her lips.

  “No,” I sighed, “that’s okay, thank you.”

  Brenda ended the call, and the recorded message played.

  “Have a good day, and thank you for calling VialCorp, where we take care of you.” The line went dead.

  Bugger, I thought, leaning back in the chair and looking up at the ceiling with a loud sigh. Then I remembered the notebook. I ran through the house, rummaging through drawers and cupboards. I checked in the office and sideboard cupboards in the living room. Where was it? Exasperated after being sure I would find it in the top drawer of my bedroom dresser, I fell back, outstretched on the bed and closed my eyes. After a few moments, I’d located it right underneath where I lay. Rummaging at the back of the drawer in the divan bed base, I pulled out the small, blue, leather-covered book with gold-edged pages, my mum’s notebook. I stood, turning straight to the back page.

  Tracing the lines of her handwriting, my throat tightened, and a drawing sensation ran along my collar bone as I thought how strange it was to be touching her words when she was no longer here. My fingers ran down the list of names and numbers and stopped at Mick Jenkins. Suddenly the pages ruffled wildly, and a strong blast of air blew up into my face.

  I gasped and staggered back, dropping the notebook and sitting down hard on the bed as the gust brought with it a familiar smell of my childhood—the smell of the VialCorp office room for children, where I would often sit and wait for my mum to finish her work.

  I was meant to go. I could feel it pulling me.

  I dashed back downstairs for my phone and dialled the number, sure that he would have changed it by now. He had, but a voicemail message gave the new one, and within two rings, Mick answered.

  “Mick Jenkins speaking,” he said.

  His voice brought memories flooding back of happy times, and my voice caught in my throat.

  “Hello?” He tried again.

  “Hi Mick, this is Haesel, Thea’s daughter.”

  “Haesel? Well, I never… hang on.” I could hear doors opening and shutting as Mick went somewhere more private. “Haesel,” he said again, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “Well, what a lovely surprise. I’m so pleased to hear from you.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch, Mick. I couldn’t handle what had happened and just needed a clean break.”

  “I can understand that, but I was worried about you. I had no idea where to find you.”

  “Yes, sorry,” I said again, “I should have gotten in touch with you.”

  Mick had been a good friend and colleague of Mum’s. He used to be at our house regularly, often staying for dinner as he and Mum discussed their research findings.

  “Well, let’s not dwell on it” he said, “it’s so good to hear from you now, and my goodness, you sound like your mum. What do I owe this wonderful pleasure to?” he asked.

  Sighing, I sat down on the arm of the sofa. “Well, this is going to sound strange for sure, but I think something is going on that’s quite worrying, and I would really like to run it by you if that’s okay?” I asked. Now I had voiced it; I felt more sure of myself. “It’s pretty urgent,” I continued, “and I was hoping to catch you tomorrow if you have time; only Brenda said you were in meetings all day today.”

  “Is everything okay?” he asked, and I could hear the worry in his voice.

  “Yes, it’s fine, really, more of an instinctive thing, I suppose.”

  He laughed a warm, genuine laugh and said, “Ah, well, if it’s an instinct, then of course I’ll take a look. Thea always had plenty of those, and it was uncanny how many times she was right. I will always love to see you, Haesel, whatever the reason. Please know I would have contacted you before now, but I didn’t know how to reach you.”

  “Thank you,” I said, “the memories were just too raw to face."

  “Of course,” Mick said, and the line went silent for a few seconds as our memories flicked briefly over the disaster. “So,” he cleared his throat. “I’m actually not in meetings all day as it happens. Sorry, that was a little white lie I’m afraid, otherwise I get bombarded with all sorts of things that take me away from my work. However, I am busy tomorrow, and I’m not able to change that. I’m really sorry,” he finished.

  “Oh, well, that’s actually better for me because I’m free today, too,” I said, brightening. I swapped hands to hold the phone to my right ear. “Could I see you today?” I suddenly felt like I was being quite pushy. “Sorry,” I added before Mick could answer. “This is coming across pretty weird.”

  “No, not at all,” he said with a small laugh. “Again, I’m always glad to see you, Haesel, and if I can help you with anything, then it will be my pleasure.” We arranged to meet in his office at 2 p.m. Then, just before hanging up, I remembered.

  “Oh, Mick? By the way, I told Brenda at reception that I was your niece, sorry. I thought maybe she would put me through if we were related.”

  “Nice try,” his laugh was deep and genuine, and his voice warm in his reply.

  “Haesel, your mum meant a great deal to me, as I know you are aware. I would be honoured to think of you as my niece and keep up the ruse for Brenda. It wouldn’t have mattered, you know, if you had said my house was on fire, she would not have put you through. Brenda is the rottweiler of first contact with VialCorp.”

  I laughed this time, saying, “She did seem to take her job very seriously.” I gave Mick my number, and we said goodbye. I got straight back on the phone to Eve.

  “Oh, bloody hell, I can’t make it today. I’ve got a meeting with EcoForce to discuss our campaign. It’s brilliant you got to see him so quickly. I’m gutted,” she said in an up and down yo-yo of emotion.

  “I know, I was really hoping you would be able to come, but I’ll call you and fill you in once I’m in the car on the way back.”

  Eve said she would leave all the evidence she had collected for me, in a bag by her back door. As she only lived ten minutes away, I could collect it on my way past.

  After a quick shower, I threw on my favourite comfy, black skinny jeans and a sage green shirt, and it wasn’t long before I was on my w
ay.

  The drive to London was easy going. I enjoyed the change of scenery and listening to the radio, watching the changes in the clouds as the stormy showers built up, releasing their swathes of five-minute downpours, then giving way to blinding sunshine. I stopped once to grab a coffee and arrived at VialCorp Head Office twenty minutes early. The vast, green glass, hexagonal frontage of the building was imposing. The one-way mirrored glass was made up of interlocking hexagons, which linked its relevance to the shapes of DNA nucleobases. It was repeated for the dot of the ‘i’ in the VialCorp logo, the main body of the ‘i’ being the spiralling double helix of the DNA strand. Clever, I thought.

  Mick had said I could park in the underground car park for the employees. I just had to give his name at the intercom. Once parked, I followed his instructions to take the elevator to the third floor and follow the signs for Immunology Reception. The receptionist would escort me to Mick’s office.

  Stepping out of the elevator, I followed the wide, pristine white corridors, my trainers making no noise as they sunk into the plush grey-flecked carpet. I passed numerous doorways made of heavy grey glass, all numbered with the initial ‘I’ followed by a number. I couldn’t see into any of them, and I heard no voices. Large, grey stone urns housed various leafy house plants of areca palms, birds of paradise, and Madagascar dragon trees, which were strategically placed near the doors and made the surroundings look softer and a little less sterile.

  A sign hanging from the ceiling ahead pointed to the door I was looking for. I was greeted by a well-practised smile from a small, slim woman in her mid-thirties, wearing a grey skirt suit and stiff white blouse. Small bi-focal glasses sat on her nose, making her look both intelligent and efficient, and her strawberry blonde hair was tied back in a low ponytail, adding the only splash of colour to the room. She stood up and reached over the curved, white acrylic desk, holding out her hand.