By A pleasing number of invitees had arrived at the cocktail party. While not on a scale to match some of his more extravagant efforts, the party had begun in a quiet, elegant manner, as intended. Even with only meagre remaining funds, Dr. James St.Clair knew they only had to stretch to cover this evening. It wouldn’t matter tomorrow.
Only his closest friends and colleagues were attending, along with a limited number of plus-1s. From a vantage point at the side of the gathering, the gathering felt more like a wake. Much of his furniture and other possessions had been sold to cover the costs of the evening, but primarily for his medical expenses, all to improve the quality of his rapidly waning life. He suspected some of his more astute friends knew the truth of his illness, but were too polite and respectful of his privacy to comment.
James would have preferred a live jazz or swing band to play at such an event. A limited budget required his preferred music be piped through his still impressive house-wide sound system. Food and service was again a compromise: no army of waiters tonight, just a handful of enthusiastic wait and kitchen staff from a nearby technical college looking to earn a few dollars and some experience.
Standing to the side of the intimate gathering, James pressed a small button secreted away inside a pocket of his dinner jacket. It was connected to a slim injector, and then a wrist-inserted cannula. A pre-measured, customised cocktail of drugs was injected into his bloodstream. There was enough stored in an under-arm pouch for six such injections; these would keep the worst symptoms of his advanced cancer at bay for the evening.
No one saw his momentary pain-filled grimace.
The compact IV system gave terminally ill patients a level of control and freedom typically impossible for hospital-bound patients. The cocktail of drugs was customised specifically for each patient.
James had been the project leader of the team that developed the IV system. At no time had James considered he would, one day, be one of those patients.
As the drugs flowed through his body, James’ focus sharpened and the pain receded. He looked around and considered. This unwanted living wake had been designed to draw one particular attendee.
Professor Julia York, still tall and lithe, moved amongst the unwitting witnesses of the impending drama. She was a predator, he knew, and retained the same self-assured grace he had last witnessed more than 20 years ago. This time, and for the first time, he reluctantly took on the role of predator.
James made his way unsteadily through the crowd, nodding to some of his guests, pausing for quick greetings with others.
The paths of the former colleagues intersected a few steps up an ornate sweeping staircase. James struggled to climb even a modest number of steps these days and was terribly out of breath. The staircase led to an entire section of the house he could no longer reach by himself. He now slept downstairs.
“Thank you for being here tonight, Julia.”
James’ former colleague paused, turned and watched with amused interest as he struggled to join her on the same step. She took another step higher.
“Of course. I was so sorry to hear of your illness, Dr. St.Clair.”
“No need to be so formal. You used to call me Jim. You can do so again.”
“We have long since moved away from friendship, doctor.” Julia quickly looked James up and down, and her smirk turned into a sneer. “In fact, are you still a doctor? You also seem…unwell.”
James ignored the professional slight, even though he had indeed lost his medical licence to practice medicine, “I appreciate we didn’t part company on favourable terms.”
“Always one for understatement. I never understood why you were so cold towards me after the project team disbanded.“
Some of the attendees were now observing the conversation.
“It seems we remember events differently, Professor York.”
James’ use of Julia’s title elicited another smirk.
“Let’s see if I can jog your memory. You stole the schematics for the auto-IV system, founded a separate company to produce a second-rate copy before I could get our original to market. The team wasn’t disbanded; it was ripped apart through your treachery. Still, I have the satisfaction of knowing yours was the inferior product. How does coldness factor into any of that?”
“My homes scattered throughout Europe disagree with you.”
James opened his mouth to respond but a sudden wave of dizziness almost made him crumple down the stairs. Julia did not move to assist him.
Through gritted teeth, James regained his balance and composure. “But you don’t contest how we parted? How the project team split? It doesn’t matter anymore. So many years have passed and I don’t have many remaining in front of me. I have a gift for you, though.”
“Do tell. I’m intrigued. What does someone so decrepit have to offer me,” Julia glanced around the diminished home, “and so poor?”
“I guess this is more a gift for everyone else. Saving the lives of those who unwittingly bought your time-bomb of an IV-system.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about. I’m leaving.”
James moved just fast enough to keep himself between Julia and the bottom of the stairs. Unconcerned by this frail obstruction, Julia firmly bumped her former colleague, sending him sprawling to the bottom of the stairs.
Attendees turned in shock towards the commotion and someone had the foresight to kill the music. James propped himself up on the lowest step and waved away a couple of guests who had moved to help. He yelled hoarsely at Julia to regain her attention.
“Remember that poor woman in Utah? The one with Alzheimer’s and the muscle spasms?” James coughed violently and took a moment to steady himself. “Then the young boy facing years of chemo, but at least with a path to recovery? What about the 50-year-old father who just wanted a bit more quality time with his kids before the inevitable?”
The venomous look on Julia’s face confirmed that she remembered those people, “What do you want?”
“There is a design fault with your injector, which you have worked so hard to cover up. You can’t continue risking people’s lives just for your own profit.”
“What do you want!” screamed Julia with uncontrolled hate. Everyone in attendance was now riveted by the exchange.
“Nothing,” now it was James’ turn to smirk. “I have been using your IV system tonight and I’m going to show everyone exactly what it can do to a person. Details of the flaw will be sent to every major news outlet and social platform and this whole exchange has been recorded.”
Julia couldn’t help a quick glance around the room, “A stunt like that isn’t going to work. It can’t. No one will believe a spiteful, washed-up loser like you.”
“Well, I guess we’re about to find out. Goodbye, Julia.”
James pressed the IV’s inject button and twisted his thumb to trigger the flawed mechanism. In place of a single measure, the system now erroneously injected the remaining five simultaneously. His body started convulsing immediately like a marionette’s strings snapping. Shrieks and yells quickly faded into a muffled background as his consciousness started to slip.
His vision darkening at the edges, James watched Julia’s unsuccessful, panicked attempt to back away through the oncoming crowd. He was satisfied she wouldn’t escape the evening, or the judgement to come.
