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“To destroy the human race, which you consider the most vile, brutish, and malevolent plague ever to infect the earth. And that isn’t the extent of my knowledge—Antoine.”
The man now went so still, he could have been a wax figure. And then, finally, a reaction broke through Leng’s frozen façade. His features seemed to contract, betraying an astonishment and dismay so powerful there was no holding it back.
“I see you are shocked. No doubt I would be, were I in your position. The problem is, your quest to find the universal poison, disease, or other means capable of extincting Homo sapiens will likely take more than your lifespan. You already know that. So you are engaged in asecondresearch effort: to extend your life.”
She paused while the flower display behind them rustled. An under-waiter, back to the table, circled the arrangement, plumping the flowers, sorting through them, removing dead stems and adding fresh flowers from a hamper. As she waited for him to leave, Constance enjoyed watching Leng struggle to control the expression on his face.
When the man moved away, Leng spoke. “But how…” he began in a strangled voice, then stopped himself.
“Howdo I know all this?” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “That is something I will never tell, and you will only waste your time trying to investigate. But do not fear: I’m not here to expose you.” Constance calmly took a sandwich from her plate, giving it a little nibble. “Ham and minted pea. Delicious.” She took another bite and followed it with a sip of tea. She nodded toward Leng’s cup. “Dr. Leng, your tea is getting cold.”
Leng drained the cup, then set it down with an unseemly rattle of china. “What do you want?” he managed to ask.
“Let us enjoy our tea for the moment, shall we?” Constance dropped in a sugar cube with a pair of tongs, added some milk, and poured another cup. She stirred slowly, set down the spoon, and took a leisurely sip. Then she selected another finger sandwich and held it daintily between thumb and forefinger. “Roast beef, tomato, and horseradish, I believe.” She took a bite.
After a moment, Leng also poured another cup. Was his hand trembling?
She had struck. Now it was time to take a step back—and make sure the provocation was not too great. “I come with a proposition,” she said.
“A proposition.” Leng tried to smile. “I should have guessed. If we are to be in business together, may I at least know your name?”
“No, you may not,” said Constance. “And as for what I want, we’ll leave that aside for the time being. The important thing is, I have whatyouwant.”
“And, pray tell, what is that?” She could only admire at how quickly sarcasm was creeping back into his voice.
“The Arcanum.”
He stared, thunderstruck all over again.
“Your research in psychiatric surgery has pointed the way. To develop this ‘Arcanum,’ this elixir to extend your lifespan, you require living human subjects.”
“This is…quite absurd,” he said.
“Let us, please, dispense with useless protestations of ignorance. The fact of the matter is, I have the complete sequence needed to synthesize the Arcanum you seek. I will give it to you as my part of an exchange.”
“An exchange.” He stared at her, his pupils mere pinpoints. “For what?”
“As I said: we’ll leave that aside for the time being.” Constance reached into her reticule and took out a small, leatherbound notebook and gold pencil. Opening the notebook, she began to write. For several minutes, there was only the sound of a pencil scratching on paper. Then she turned the notebook around and pushed it toward him.
He picked it up and stared.
“Do you know what that is?” she asked.
Still Leng stared.
She had, long ago, searched out and memorized the long and complex chemical synthesis hidden within Leng’s own notebooks—from a date that was still many years in the future. Even Pendergast was unaware she possessed knowledge of the original Arcanum. She suspected that he, too, had discovered it when he first took possession of the Riverside Drive mansion…but they had never spoken of it.
“It’s impossible,” he said at last, voice strained.
“So you do recognize it. That makes things much simpler. Those chemical equations and reactions,” she said, nodding at the notebook, “outline the first twelve steps in the synthesis of the Arcanum. There is of course a great deal more to it: the initiating factors, catalysts, enzymes, substrates, intermediate steps, equations and formulae—everything necessary. I have it all.”
She watched closely as Leng stared at the pages. “This is extraordinary,” he finally said. “I can hardly believe it. How on earth did you accomplish this?” He was so absorbed in the formula itself that everything else paled beside it. This was what she had hoped for—what she had counted on.
“I might add,” Constance said, “that I am not claiming to have developed this synthesis on my own. Did you assume yourself to be the only one searching for the fountain of youth? Now, as to what I want: it will be revealed to you at the time of our transaction.”
Leng looked puzzled afresh. “How can I be sure to have what you want, at a moment’s notice?”
“Listen carefully: Iknowyou have what I desire. We will meet at noon, on December twenty-seventh, in the public square at the intersection of Chambers and Center Streets. I will be accompanied by one, perhaps two acquaintances of mine, whose sole purpose will be to guarantee my safety. Then, and only then, will I name my price. At that point, you will directly fetch it and bring it to me in that public square…and I will give you a notebook containing the complete synthesis of the Arcanum.”