The person he's speaking to is a woman, who I would place in her mid to late twenties. She's wearing a well-cut matching suit jacket and skirt, which sits a little way above her knee, and a pair of heels that look too high to be practical in an office, although she balances on them with ease. Her blonde hair is shoulder-length and perfectly straight. It frames her face, accentuating her high cheek bones and contrasting with her brown eyes. Her make up is applied expertly and is the full works – right down to the mascara on curled lashes, and not-quite-natural shade of lip stick. The effect is striking, and I can’t help but feel inadequate besides her. With her heels, she's several inches taller than me and she has a face and figure that would turn heads, and a confidence that suggests she knows it.
By contrast, my hair is a mess after waking up on wet grass, my clothes are slightly grubby and consist of jeans and a loose-fitting top, and my trainers are still covered in mud from the playing field. My makeup is virtually non-existent, and even with all the brushes and powders in the world, I could never re-create the masterpiece that is her face. I'm starting to wish I'd taken the time to tidy myself up before leaving with Scott, which is of course ridiculous because I didn't even know I was going to go with him until thirty seconds before I did it.
The woman turns to look at me, and smiles. Not the arrogant, condescending look I expected, but a genuine, warm expression. I relax and start to feel a little less intimidated by her appearance. It's weird, because nothing has changed – she is still immaculately presented, and I still look like something the cat dragged in – but the contrast bothers me less. Or more precisely, she bothers me less. I can feel my emotions changing, like frozen hands thawing in front of a campfire, and I feel myself drawn to her, like I’ve finally found the one person who can give me the warmth and safety I’ve been seeking since this whole crazy mess began.
“Anna, this is Helen,” Scott introduces us. “She can influence people's perception of her.”
His words break me from her thrall and I crash back into reality with a painful thud. It wasn’t real. She’s just a person, and there is no safety.
“So you’re the new absa?” she says, scrutinising me. I look to Scott and raise an eyebrow.
“It stands for atypically biologically selectively advantaged,” he explains. “That’s what happens when you let scientists name things.”
I turn the words over in my mind and open my mouth.
“She's in denial,” he tells Helen, before I can deny it. I snap my mouth shut again. Helen nods knowingly.
“Trust me, you’re not the first. But Scott's talent has never let him down yet.”
I turn to Scott in surprise.
“You're an… absa?”
He looks uneasy and Helen's face falls.
“I'm sorry, you hadn't told her, had you?”
He shrugs and his lips settle into an easy smile again.
“It never came up.”
I think my mouth may actually drop open. Never came up? That's just... I regain control of my lower jaw and force a smile to match his.
“So, what can you do?”
“I’m a tracker,” he says, the careful look back in his eyes. “That’s how I knew you were one of us.”
One of us. I like the sound of that. But what exactly am I getting myself into? My eyes have drifted past him to the whiteboard behind him. His eyes follow mine and he raises a hand placatingly.
“I can explain.”
“Really? Because it looks a lot like you’ve been spying on me,” I snap. The whiteboard is covered in photos – CCTV from the jewellers, me walking down the street, me at The Glasshouse. And details – my entire life written in dry wipe marker. Date of birth, habits, everywhere I’ve lived, everyone I know. My eyes roam over it, taking it all in.
“Anna, this is a top-secret organisation. We wanted to help you, but we had no way of knowing if you needed our help.”
“You could have asked.”
“I tried, remember?”
Remember? How could I not? I’m pretty sure I will be taking that particular memory to the grave. A stranger turning up at my door and sending me shifting twenty miles away isn’t the sort of thing you just forget. I sigh.
“I’m being unfair.”
“You’re being honest, and I’m glad you trust me enough to do that. I don’t blame you for being spooked.” He gestures to the board. “On the plus side, we don’t need this anymore.”
“Good.” I barely suppress a shudder as I eye the board again, and then turn my back on it. Helen and her companion are watching me unobtrusively.
“Don’t worry, it scared the hell out of me when I first got here too,” Helen confides. “You get used to it.”
I nod, unconvinced. I’m not sure this is something I want to get used to – any of it. Scott has fallen into conversation with Helen’s companion, and they’ve moved a few steps away. It doesn’t take a genius to work out who they’re talking about.
“Who’s he?” I ask Helen, surprising myself with my own directness. Normally I have better manners. There’s definitely something off about the way I’m acting around her, but at the same time it feels completely natural. If Helen is bothered by my boldness, she doesn’t let on.
“That’s Paul. He’s in charge of damage limitation.”
“Damage limitation?” I frown.
“Yeah. It’s his job to make sure what we do here stays secret. Like when someone disappears in front of two cops, or in the middle of a restaurant.” She laughs lightly and I chuckle too – though I have no idea why. Nothing about this is remotely funny. But it feels good to laugh, and before I know it the pair of us are in fits of giggles over nothing.
Scott makes his way back over with a bemused smile.
“I’m glad to see you girls are getting along. Care to share the joke?”
“It’s nothing,” Helen says, with one last smile. “I’ll catch up with you two later.”
*
“Okay, we've got one last call to make.”
I attempt to suppress a yawn but it's a lost cause so I give up the fight, and fix Scott with an unimpressed look.
“Seriously? It's–” I check the time on my signal-less phone, “–nine p.m. Can't it wait?”
He looks pained. I sigh in exasperation.
“Fine. But I need a coffee. Who are we meeting?”
“My boss.”
A cold shudder runs through me, and I remember the whiteboard in the comms room. This is the man who made it his mission to find out everything about me, the man who sent Scott to see if I could do this thing they thought I could. Hell, the man who runs all of this, who controls all of this. A man like that could make me disappear if he wanted.
“Just relax,” Scott tells me, and I realise I'm breathing like a racehorse. But on the plus side, I haven't blacked out, or shifted, or whatever. “It's nothing formal, just a chat. And you can still leave if you want to. But–” He rubs his hand over his face, and the stress makes him look older. The stress of dealing with me.
“Stop. I get it.” I sigh again. “But just so you know, if he tries to chain me up in the basement, I'm holding you personally responsible.”
He laughs.
“Right, got it.”
I follow him back into the lift, and he presses the button for the top floor. I try to focus on my breathing. The fact that I'm too tired to be properly afraid is definitely helping. Whatever's coming, I have to see it through. And I'm starting to trust Scott. Whether that's a smart move, I'm not sure yet. But knowing he went through the same thing as me, well, I guess in a way he seems less strange to me now. Like we're part of the same thing, and the same thing is part of us. Only that sounds ridiculous. Must be the exhaustion catching up to me. I really could use a coffee, but Scott thinks I'm twitchy enough already and that caffeine is a bad idea. He's probably right.
The lift rumbles to a stop, and the door slides slowly open. I step through it on shaking legs, and jump as a hand lands on my should
er. Scott gives it a reassuring squeeze.
“Just take your time, we're in no hurry.”
I nod and stretch out my hand against the wall to steady myself. This is no big deal. He's just a man. After everything I've been through in the last two days, this is child's play. Or he could be planning on locking me up in the research department. You know, one or the other.
“Okay, let's get it over with before I change my mind.”
He smiles and leads me down the corridor. We reach a large imposing door – or maybe it just seems that way to me, knowing what it symbolises. Scott knocks on it twice, and flashes me another reassuring smile. All the smiling is making me kinda edgy, but I don't have time to dwell on it. A voice from inside the room instructs us to enter. Scott swings the door open and gestures for me to go through. I step meekly, looking around as I do.
The room is carpeted with thick burgundy flooring, and the walls are half panelled, half painted a cream colour. A large mahogany desk dominates the room, which itself is larger than you would think necessary for an office. On the other hand, having never worked in an office, I guess I'm hardly best placed to judge.
Behind the desk sits another suit, though even from my inexperienced perspective I can tell that this one must have cost a fortune. The guy wearing it is older, late fifties perhaps, white-haired but still in good shape. Though he's sitting behind a desk now, I get the impression that he's no stranger to a day's work. His eyes are grey, and they're watching me closely in a way that makes me feel like a mouse crossing a snake's path. I feel a shudder working its way up my spine.
He rises from his seat with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes as Scott shuts the door, and steps from behind his desk.
“You must be Anna,” he says, stretching out his hand towards me. “Issac Gardiner.” I take a step backwards and bump into Scott.
“She's a little jittery right now,” he says over my shoulder. Jittery? Yeah, I suppose I am, but who wouldn't be? Two days ago I was a waitress whose biggest worry was being behind on her rent. Now I'm a thief, a wanted criminal, and a genetic mutant for crying out loud. Oh yeah, and the government are trying to recruit me to do God alone knows what. So yeah, I'm jittery. Sue me. Or lock me in a laboratory.
“I understand,” Gardiner says, his smile not faltering for a moment. His hand drops back to his side and he perches on the edge of his desk, which just looks plain weird for a guy his age.
“So, what do you think of our little facility, Miss Mason?”
“It's... um...” Creepy? Clandestine? Terrifying? “Nice.”
“We have one of the best labs in the world here, and some of the top researchers. Our training facilities are second to none.”
I try to rephrase my appraisal into something more flattering, but he holds up his hand to stop me.
“I'm not fishing for compliments, Miss Mason – may I call you Anna? – I just want you to know what we can offer you, should you decide to come on board. Scott tells me you've been experiencing some unfortunate side effects as a result of using your talent.”
“He has?” I glance at him over my shoulder, and then turn back to Gardiner. I fight down the illogical panic that's rising to the surface again, because what have I really got to panic about? I mean, okay, he knows more about me than I'm comfortable with, but of course Scott was going to report back to him – the man's his boss. And since when was Scott my emotional crutch anyway? He was the one I didn't trust this morning.
“I know it's late, so I'll keep this short,” he continues. “We could use someone with your ability. And you could use an organisation with our resources. Helping you gain control your talent is just the start of what we could offer you.”
“And what would you want in return?” I manage to force out.
He chuckles, and my frown deepens.
“I'm offering you a job; nothing more, nothing less. Scott can give you an idea of what it entails. Take some time, sleep on it. But let me know soon.”
He rises from his perch and moves back behind the desk: we're dismissed. I follow Scott from the office, Gardiner’s words running through my mind. A job working for the shady government organisation? I don't know what scares me more: the fact that they want me, or the fact that I'm actually considering it.
“Anna?” Scott has stopped and is looking at me expectantly.
“I'm sorry, did you say something?”
“Did you want to sleep here tonight, or do you want me to take you home?”
Shady government organisation and B&B service – the surprises just keep on coming.
“Home, please.”
He nods and glances at his watch.
“It'll be late by the time you get back; we can eat first if you want?”
I hesitate. I haven't eaten all day thanks to Scott showing up at the restaurant and my defence mechanism helpfully sending me twenty miles across town. Even so, I'll be much happier once I'm out of here. This whole place makes me feel uneasy. Scott picks up on my indecision and makes it easy for me.
“We'll grab something on the way. Come on.”
Chapter Six
The harsh lighting is a sharp contrast to the heavy darkness outside the large glass windows. I'm sitting on a red plastic chair, at a white laminated table – the sort favoured by service stations up and down the country, and that are all too familiar to me. That’s the price you pay for having a mother with an aversion to staying in one place for too long. Just looking around brings back the exhaustion of all those long journeys.
I lift my coffee cup and take a sip, glancing round the almost-deserted service station restaurant. A couple are cuddled up together on the other side of the room, and closer to us a man is drinking from a coffee and catching up on his text messages. We're tucked away in a quiet corner at a table Scott picked. Something to do with being able to see all the doors and the other diners. I'm sure it made sense to him. I just want to get something to eat and get home. He has other things on his mind, though. I lower the cup back to the table and consider his question. He wants to know how I’d feel about accepting AbGen’s help.
“I don't know,” I answer honestly. “I've got so many questions – I don't even know what you guys do, not really.”
“There's a limit to how much I can tell you,” he says, his face staying carefully stoic. “AbGen operates outside of the public eye. It has to, for our own protection.”
That makes sense. I hadn't really thought about it until now – it's not like I've had much time to sit and think – but if people knew what we could do, they would panic. Maybe want to lock me in a cage and do all of the things I was worried about Gardiner doing to me. We're different. People would fear us; we would be the enemy. So I understand the need for secrecy. Doesn’t mean I’m willing to jump in blindly.
“What are you allowed to tell me?”
Scott adds another teaspoon of sugar to his coffee and stirs it, then removes the spoon and sets it carefully on the edge of his saucer.
“We spend a lot of our time in training, making the most of the facilities you saw today.”
Training for what? I want to ask him, but I bite my tongue and wait with as much patience as I can muster while he takes a sip from his cup.
“Our scientists are doing research into why our genetic makeup is different and how it gives us our abilities. But I'm guessing you're not too interested in that. The work we do is varied. I know it sounds clichéd, but we do whatever is needed. Sometimes our work is international, sometimes we're on our own streets. AbGen is about saving people. As for how we do that, well it depends on your talent.”
A waitress brings over two plates of food and smiles at Scott – ignoring me – as she sets them down on the table. I stare at the plate in front of me while she busies herself setting down cutlery, thinking about how Scott has managed to use a lot of words to tell me precisely nothing. The waitress asks if we want refills on our drinks and finally leaves when we decline. I pick up my fork and poke at my chicken salad
, not as hungry as I was half an hour ago.
“And this work that you're being so cryptic about,” I probe, “is it dangerous?”
“It can be,” he answers, surprising me with his honesty. I'll admit it, I'm a little impressed too. If he was going to lie to me, that was the obvious question to dodge.
“But we have good back-up, and we never go into a situation blind. I'll be honest with you, Anna, there are risks involved, but the work we do saves lives, and I think it's worth it. You need to decide if you do too.”
I nod, and wipe a round of cucumber through some salad dressing. I'm not the walking into danger type, I think the last two days prove that – I’ve spent pretty much the entire time running, freaking out, or both. I can see the way Scott’s eyes come alive when he speaks about the work they do. He really believes in what he's doing, but that’s hardly justification enough for me to join him taking these undisclosed risks for some elusive greater good.
“You have a firing range – would I be expected to–” The waitress walks past, and I lower my voice, “–kill anyone?”
“We're not assassins,” he says. “We carry guns for defensive purposes. But if we need to use them, then we're authorised to do so.”
I nod as if people tell me this sort of thing every day and try to keep my heart rate somewhere south of a hundred beats a minute.
“And how would it work? I turn up for work on Monday and Gardiner sends me off somewhere with a gun and a radio?”
“Well, like I said, we spend most of our time training, and you'd need a lot of training before he made you operational. There's no way of telling how long it would take you to get control of your ability. But once you do, you'd be fully briefed before being sent anywhere, and you'd have a handler watching your back the entire time. Oh, and we don't use radios; they tend to be a bit conspicuous.”
Awakening (TalentBorn Book 1) Page 5
