The Janus Legacy Read online

  THE JANUS LEGACY

  By Lisa von Biela

  A Gordian Knot Medical Thriller

  Gordian Knot is an imprint of Crossroad Press

  Digital Edition published by Crossroad Press

  Digital Edition Copyright © 2017 Lisa von Biela

  Original publication by DarkFuse – January 2014

  LICENSE NOTES

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the vendor of your choice and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Meet the Author

  Lisa von Biela worked in Information Technology for 25 years, then dropped out to attend the University of Minnesota Law School, graduating magna cum laude in 2009. She now practices law in Seattle, Washington.

  Lisa began writing short, dark fiction just after the turn of the century. Her first publication appeared in The Edge in 2002. She went on to publish a number of short works in various small-press venues, including Gothic.net, Twilight Times, Dark Animus, AfterburnSF, and more. She is the author of the novels The Genesis Code, The Janus Legacy, Blockbuster, and Broken Chain, as well as the novellas Ash and Bone, Skinshift, and Moon Over Ruin.

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  THE JANUS LEGACY

  Table of Contents

  Janus

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 47

  CHAPTER 48

  CHAPTER 49

  CHAPTER 50

  CHAPTER 51

  CHAPTER 52

  CHAPTER 53

  CHAPTER 54

  CHAPTER 55

  CHAPTER 56

  CHAPTER 57

  CHAPTER 58

  CHAPTER 59

  CHAPTER 60

  CHAPTER 61

  CHAPTER 62

  CHAPTER 63

  CHAPTER 64

  CHAPTER 65

  CHAPTER 66

  CHAPTER 67

  CHAPTER 68

  CHAPTER 69

  CHAPTER 70

  CHAPTER 71

  EPILOGUE

  Other books

  Janus: the ancient Roman god of doorways, of beginnings. Often depicted with two faces, each gazing in the opposite direction.

  Janus-faced: having two contrasting aspects.

  Janus legacy: a dangerous gift.

  PROLOGUE

  A burst of fresh, cool air rushed over him. He breathed it in, enjoying how it tasted, how it felt. He couldn’t remember feeling such a thing before. He couldn’t remember anything at all.

  His eyelids fluttered open. Bright lights flared and stabbed at him. He shrank back from the unfamiliar, painful sensation, but something hard and unyielding seemed to confine him.

  Of their own volition, his knees drew toward his chest, toward the universal posture of comfort and security, but something unseen limited his range of movement. He opened his mouth and gasped for air as panic seized him.

  He heard voices, but couldn’t understand them. Something reached into whatever container imprisoned him and fumbled with something. A haze settled onto him, dulling his senses. Then he heard a sound, a sound so distant now, like two solid items gently striking each other. The fresh air vanished, as did the harsh light.

  CHAPTER 1

  “Mr. Girard is expecting you. Please come this way.” The receptionist spoke in the hushed tones of one accustomed to dealing with the well-heeled.

  Jeremy Magnusson wanted nothing more than to turn right around and get the hell out of there.

  The Botoxed wonder stepped away from her sleek ebony desk and led the way to a conference room down the hall. Jeremy marveled at how she could walk so steadily on such high heels. Not one highlighted blonde hair dared stray; her meticulously applied makeup surely involved serious daily prep time. Perhaps she was some sort of automaton designed to appeal to the clientele.

  Overpriced artwork and furnishings permeated the place. The rich and obnoxious would feel right at home. Jeremy decided that Ogilvy, Girard, and Snelling looked just like the sort of swank, high-buck law firm his father would have chosen.

  “He’ll be in shortly. There’s water and coffee on the table behind you.” Receptionist Barbie turned and shut the door without a sound.

  Jeremy glanced around the room and speculated about the operating costs for a firm like this—and its fees. The thick, highly polished cherry wood conference table could comfortably seat twenty. No skimping on the chairs, either. All ergonomic, black leather types. A long cherry wood credenza on the window side of the room featured an array of mugs and glasses, as well as carafes of water and coffee and all the trimmings.

  And the view. The firm occupied the 54th floor of the IDS Tower in downtown Minneapolis, and Jeremy had to admit the view was spectacular. It probably went on for miles on a sunny day. Today, however, ominous dark gray clouds hung low, casting the city into a twilight gloom in the early afternoon. Jeremy supposed that was appropriate enough under the circumstances. He selected a chair facing the door, sat down, and doodled restlessly on the notepad he had brought.

  Moments later, the door opened, and Kenneth Girard strode in. He presented the very image of the stereotypical law partner: gray hair,
a slight paunch, custom-tailored dark suit and a navy-blue silk tie. He extended a hand and smiled, showing perfectly even, capped teeth.

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Magnusson. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Jeremy stood briefly and shook hands. “Thank you.”

  Girard seated himself directly across from Jeremy, set a thick legal file on the table before him, and got right down to business. “Mr. Magnusson, I’m not sure how much you know of your father’s business—”

  “Not much. We haven’t spoken in some years now.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, some of this may come as a surprise to you, then. Your father revised his estate plan considerably after your mother died.” Girard shook his head and released a regretful-sounding exhalation. “Fortunately, given the unexpected nature of his passing.”

  Jeremy briefly considered the actuarial odds of dying in a plane crash for someone who spent all his spare time zipping here or there in his private jet, as did his father, the ubiquitous—and now late—Doctor Ivan Magnusson.

  Done with his brief display of empathy, Girard carried on. “You have no siblings, and no other beneficiaries are named in your father’s will. Everything goes to you: all the liquid assets and investments, the mansion in Minnetonka, the cars and personal effects, and of course, SomaGene. Everything, that is, under one condition.”

  “And what is that?”

  “That you assume his role at SomaGene—full responsibility for the business. Day-to-day operations, planning, R&D, as well as clinical procedures. I understand that you, like your father, are a surgeon as well as an accomplished research scientist. SomaGene is doing quite well, but Ivan wasn’t content to rest on his successes. He had progressed in taking his enterprise to the next level, and that is why he imposed the condition as he did. If you are willing to carry on his wishes for SomaGene, then you are entitled to his entire estate—and it is considerable. If you do not wish to do so, then I am authorized to search for a suitable candidate in your place, and to liquidate all non-SomaGene assets. The proceeds would be reinvested in SomaGene.”

  Jeremy sat speechless as he tried to process what he had just heard—and the implications. SomaGene had been one reason for his estrangement from his father. Jeremy believed the technology his father developed was too risky and pushed ethical boundaries. That said, it had been successful, and there had been no serious adverse events, at least so far. But, what was the “next level” that he’d been working on? Did it merely push the boundaries of ethics, or barge right through them?

  “I really don’t know what to think. How soon do you need an answer?”

  “Ivan specified 48 hours if there had been no one designated as an interim backup for him. Given his unexpected demise, there was no such person, so SomaGene is without a leader at the moment.”

  “I prefer to make informed decisions. Tell me more about this ‘next level,’ as you call it. What would I be trying to implement?”

  Girard shook his head. “I’m sorry. Ivan specifically chose not to provide me that information. He said it was very sensitive and he did not want it to fall into anyone’s hands, other than the person who would implement it. He wanted total commitment up front. He did, however, provide a mechanism for that information to be made available shortly after you—or an outside recruit—began running SomaGene.”

  Typical Ivan. “That makes it pretty damned tough to decide.”

  “I imagine it does. I can arrange a tour of SomaGene tomorrow to at least let you see the operations, meet some of the key staff members. I can also show you the house. It’s not far from the SomaGene campus. I hope that would be helpful in your decision.”

  “All right, let’s do that. I booked a hotel for the night, so I wouldn’t have to head back down to Rochester.”

  “Good. I’ll have our receptionist coordinate things and get you the logistics.”

  Jeremy yanked his overnight bag into his hotel room and pushed the door shut with a satisfying click. He shook the rain off his coat and cursed himself for forgetting to bring an umbrella. He knew perfectly well that violent thunderstorms could pop up this time of year in Minnesota. This whole business about his father had him distracted, and he’d failed to properly prepare for the trip. He hated distractions only slightly less than being poorly prepared.

  He wheeled the bag into the bedroom and hefted it onto the luggage rack. He retrieved his toiletry case and took it into the bathroom. Time for his daily dose of mercaptopurine. Jeremy filled a glass with water and swallowed the pill. He hoped this med would work better than the last one to get his Crohn’s under control. It had gotten bad enough for a while that he was missing work routinely, and his doctor warned him if it kept up at that pace, he would need stronger meds, and possibly even surgery to remove a section of his small intestine that was already badly damaged.

  The stress of the pain and inconvenience of his disease had created a vicious feedback loop, worsening his symptoms—and now this. With his mother dead and no siblings, it had fallen to him to deal with his father’s sudden death. Ivan had been flying off in his private jet to speak at some conference in Denver. The weather turned ugly and the plane went down. Both Ivan and the pilot were killed instantly. The investigation so far showed nothing more than an accident, but there were still some loose ends to deal with.

  And now the bizarre condition attached to Ivan’s will. They hadn’t even spoken for several years, since Ivan got SomaGene off the ground. Jeremy had not expected anything like this to happen. He had half a mind to just say no and go home, but figured he might as well take the tour and see what Ivan had wrought.

  Jeremy glanced at himself in the bathroom mirror. The lines on his face and dark circles under his eyes made him look older than his thirty-two years. Damned Crohn’s. Why hadn’t Ivan spent his time trying to find a cure for that? It had killed Jeremy’s mother, and unfortunately, she’d passed it down to him. He’d been fine until he hit twenty, when the disease first began to manifest. Before that, he’d been in top physical condition. He’d excelled in both sports and his studies in school. But once Crohn’s made its appearance, his whole life became centered on keeping it at bay.

  He glanced at his watch. Barely 4 o’clock. Too early for dinner. Dead tired from his drive up from Rochester and the meeting with Girard, Jeremy decided to take a nap for a while, then just order room service in later. The idea of going out for dinner, especially in this downpour, was just too exhausting to consider.

  Especially with such a major decision weighing on him.

  CHAPTER 2

  Rick Granada was going places. You could tell just by looking at him and listening to him. He stood with his head high and his broad shoulders straight, as if he could defy gravity itself. He spoke with confidence, his words and thoughts flowing effortlessly.

  You could tell all of this just by being around him, even if you didn’t know he was the most respected practitioner of regenerative medicine in the nation.

  Amanda McGovern shared a quiet booth with Rick in their favorite restaurant, Ellington’s Seafood and Chop House. They went there often enough—and Rick spent freely enough—that the host always seated them in the best booth in the house so they could enjoy the view of Silver Lake as they dined.

  Amanda gazed out the window at the reflections of the sun setting on the lake and admitted to herself that perhaps she was a little biased about Rick. They’d started dating shortly after she’d broken up with her prior boyfriend, and she missed few opportunities to compare the two. The old boyfriend lost every time.

  She’d wanted to be with someone ambitious, someone who could match her thirst for achievement. Rick had rocketed to the top of his field in record time. He’d published more articles on regenerative medicine than anyone else, and his research was widely viewed as the standard by which all else was judged. Indeed, he felt somewhat stifled in his current position because the funding did not allow him to push the envelope even further.

  For her part, Amanda was
also a physician, though not a surgeon. She was a research scientist specializing in genetic therapy for age-related genome degradation. She’d chosen her specialty carefully for its opportunities for advancement. With the aging of the general population, her research stood to bear important fruit in the coming years.

  She sipped her Chardonnay and looked at Rick. His face had retained the tan he’d gotten on the trip they took to Bermuda a couple of months ago. That and his dark wavy hair made him stand out even more from the usual Minnesota blond, Nordic types.

  He raised his glass of Cabernet and smiled. “I got word today they’ve selected me to give the keynote speech at this year’s regenerative med conference in Orlando.”

  “That’s wonderful! When is it? Can I come?”

  “Of course. We can make a week of it. It’s not until early next year. Good time to get out of the cold and snow and hit Florida, eh?”

  Amanda clicked her glass with his. “Sounds wonderful. I’m looking forward to it already.” The last six months with Rick had been the best she’d ever had. She’d made the right decision to leave her old boyfriend for him.

  CHAPTER 3

  Jeremy drove along the curvy Minnetonka back road in search of the SomaGene campus. Girard had had an assistant phone him that morning with the address and time to come receive the grand tour.

  The day was cloudy with remnants of the prior day’s storm, though the light was decent. Nonetheless, addresses were hard to spot along this road. Finally, up ahead he noticed a tiny sign next to a long blacktop driveway. SG. Amazing that flamboyant Ivan didn’t have something with flashing, glaring neon to proclaim his creation. What was he trying to hide?

  He turned onto the driveway. It led back through a stand of pine trees so thick he couldn’t see any buildings from the road. The front portion of the property consisted merely of manicured grass and the outer part of driveway. The casual passer-by would have no idea what went on there.