The Legacy

at him incredulously. ‘You think I can take a break now?’
    ‘Yes,’ Richard said, walking towards him, calmer suddenly, and putting his hands on Albert’s shoulders. ‘You’ve saved Elizabeth’s life. You’ve done it. Now just give me the formula and you can get some rest.’
    He’d saved her life. Albert felt his heart thud in his chest. That was how this whole enterprise had started. The search for the cure for cancer, Elizabeth’s cancer, which had ravaged her body, turned her against him. His beautiful daughter, virtually a stranger to him. This had been something he’d been able to do for her. Not enough – never enough – but something.
    Albert looked at Richard, taking in his angular chin, his ambitious eyes, his stiff posture. His daughter’s husband. His son-in-law. He had to remind himself of this fact on a regular basis – to Albert, he was always just ‘his assistant’, the young man who had refused to take no for an answer, who had appeared one day, fresh-faced from university, telling Albert without any irony that he knew Albert would make the right decision and hire him. Then, as though determined to force himself into every crevice of Albert’s life, Richard had turned his attentions on his boss’s daughter. Undeterred by Elizabeth’s failing health, he had wooed her, swept her off her feet and married her. She’d even had a child while in remission, before the cancer took hold again, more violently this time.
    Albert studied Richard for a few seconds. He often wondered what had induced Elizabeth to fall in love with this man, with his loud voice and complete belief in himself, so different from him. Then again, he mused, perhaps that was the reason.
    ‘So, the formula,’ Richard said. ‘Let’s get it patented right away.’
    ‘Patented?’ Albert asked vaguely, still thinking about his daughter, about his granddaughter. Elizabeth had banned him from visiting a month ago, when Albert had first had doubts about the beast he feared he was creating. Richard had conveyed the message soberly and apologetically. She was getting worse, he’d told him; she needed the cure and she needed it soon, and she would not allow a man who had the power in his hands to cure her illness to see his granddaughter. After all, if she died at his hands then she would lose Maggie. Why should he have what she couldn’t? It had been blackmail; Albert recognised that, but still he acquiesced, throwing himself into his work, watched closely by Richard. And now . . . now . . .
    ‘I haven’t seen Elizabeth for so long,’ he said tentatively. ‘If I could talk to her . . .’
    ‘Yes, of course,’ Richard said seriously. ‘But Elizabeth will want to know that the drugs are in production, won’t she? That the formulation is being created and tested. Give me the formula. I’ll tell her the wonderful news and I know she’ll want to see you straight away. Just think, once Elizabeth starts taking the drugs you’ll have all eternity to make things up with her. Think of all the time you two can spend together.’
    Albert felt a sad little smile creep across his face. His assistant spoke of eternity so lightly, as though it were a good thing, an adventure, not the horror it really was. But that was the optimism of youth. Such self-belief. Such conviction.
    ‘You don’t think perhaps we’re making a huge mistake?’ he asked quietly. ‘The vista of eternal life has corrupted men throughout the ages.’
    ‘The vista, but not the reality,’ his assistant said, a trace of impatience in his voice. ‘Albert, it would be morally wrong to hold this back. People have a right to know. Science can’t be selfish – you taught me that.’
    Albert swallowed uncomfortably. He wanted time to think, time to reflect, to weigh up his options, to review the evidence, to consider the implications. And yet there was no time. Not for his daughter, at any rate.
    ‘Why don’t you at least show me how it works?’ his assistant said, then, ‘Please, Albert?’
    Albert thought for a moment. Until now he’d held back from sharing with Richard any more than was absolutely necessary, fearing that his over-enthusiasm, his obvious desire for glory, might tempt him to interfere. Then he nodded. The truth was that he wanted someone else to see the beauty of what he’d created, even if he wasn’t ready to share the means yet. He gave Richard the goggles, led him to the microscope.
    Carefully, Richard leant down.