Knife Edge

Knife Edge - chapter 11

The sun was streaming through the windows of Ella’s hotel room. She had booked herself into the Marquis to enjoy a little luxury before entering the equally luxurious surroundings of Heaven’s Gate a few blocks away.

Following her win, Ella had moved quickly. She was clever with investments and had set up portfolio for herself that ought to yield a reasonable, if not stratospheric return. Her wardrobe now contained her new collection of dresses, hats and shoes, in preparation for her emergence in six months looking - well, she would just have to wait and see.

Startz had been professional and thorough. He had explained precisely what he planned to do. He would straighten her jaw, carve her cheek bones slightly, rebuild her nose completely, broaden here, pinch there, revitalise her hair follicles, enlarge her breasts, restructure her skin using derma therapy and then put her through a rigorous exercise and deportment programme. Ella had seen a full-size virtual image of her new self.

She had almost gasped at the sight. It was like looking at an entirely new person and yet it was clearly her. She could actually see this new woman looking out at her from the mirror. It would take a little more than a candle and a pinch of salt for this new vision to emerge and depose the present incumbent. All it took was money. And she had plenty of that.

Tomorrow was the day when she moved into the surgery. She would have her own comfortable room and she would spend the best part of the next six months cocooned like a chrysalis before emerging into the world. Startz had been right all along. He had seen the beauty within the beast. And what was more important, he had the skill to release it.

There was just one more task to perform before she disappeared in to her self-imposed exile.

She put in a call to St Anthony’s and asked to speak to Mr McArthur. The conversation began pleasantly enough. Ella explained she was a friend but she felt nervous as she did so. She pictured Ed lying still and alone, unwanted by the world, tied to it by a neural scanner. She knew, at that moment, that whatever miracle Startz performed on her would be as nothing to the miracle of seeing Ed truly alive again. She loved him still and part of her was surprised. The shock of becoming a millionairess could have been enough to relegate Ed to the disused memory bank. But, it hadn’t. She still cared for him. She still wanted him. But the situation was looking impossible.

When McArthur broke the news, Ella was stunned for a moment.

‘What do you mean, move him?’ she snapped into the intercom speaker.

McArthur’s bland voice answered her.

‘I’m sorry if you are related, Miss er... and I’m sorry you haven’t had the courtesy to contact me personally up till now, or tell me who you are. Never mind. The fact is, we have kept Ed Leeming here way beyond the normal financial and time considerations. In other words, I feel sorry for the young man. I feel sorry for his mother. She is now on welfare and, although we have bent over backwards to be accommodating, there is a limit to the amount of free service we can give this patient. It’s not as if we’re cutting off a life support system. He may recover of his own accord. There are many aspects of this condition we know little about. So, I’m afraid Mr Leeming will have to be moved to a community home where he will be well looked after.’

‘But the fact is,’ said Ella, ‘that he is far more likely to recover if the first glimmer or sign of life can be encouraged by neural scanning.’

‘That is correct.’

‘Okay, Mr McArthur. Here’s what we are going to do. Do not move Ed Leeming. There will be a check for one year’s fees on its way to you directly. Please wait until you receive it. This must remain strictly confidential. I have personal reasons for remaining anonymous. I don’t care what you tell Mrs Leeming. Just say a humanitarian donor has selected him at random.’