by D C Vaughn
Rebecca nodded, then glanced at the abutment doors. ‘And Colin?’
‘Who?’
‘Colin, the guy who just walked out of here, he works with you.’
Sam shook his head. ‘I followed the man who approached you outside your apartment, it’s how I got here. I saw a car pull away before I got in here, but I’ve never worked with anyone called Colin.’
Rebecca closed her eyes, and decided not to tell Sam about the attack on his parents just yet. ‘They convinced me that they were working with you. I found the data you hid in your parent’s house.’
Sam smiled, cupped her cheek in his hand. ‘I knew you’d figure it out. I wanted so much to get the chip back but I couldn’t, I was sure Neuray were watching. My folks have often had private treatment paid for by the company, I couldn’t tell how far Dylan Carter had taken things.’
Rebecca stared at him for a long moment. ‘Colin said that Neuray’s work to watch people from within doesn’t work, that it was defunct?’
‘It works,’ Sam replied. ‘I built most of it. But it can’t always distinguish between thoughts and reality, it’s not reliable enough, at least not yet. The MOD wanted more research, but Neuray’s ploughed everything into this and their finances were falling short. They couldn’t get backing from normal channels so they began courting other nations, chiefly Russia, for finance to complete the work. Now the board’s trying to sell the technology to the highest bidder, shooting for the biggest profits. The Russians are queuing up, and not just the Kremlin but organised criminals, you name it, they want it. I was going to go public when…’
Rebecca nodded, one hand touching his shoulder. Sam took a breath.
‘Neuray’s behind everything, Rebecca. I joined the company on the strength of what it had done for people with spinal injuries, not to build spying technology, and certainly not to implant people with chips that could influence their behaviour.’
Rebecca almost tripped on Sam’s words and backed up instantly.
‘Control behaviour?’ she echoed in horror.
Sam nodded.
‘Neuray’s ultimate goal is not just to see what we can see, to watch the thoughts of millions of people. They’re developing technology to control the flow of chemicals in the brain, to actually influence how we feel, how we act, even to control what we see by influencing our thoughts.’
Time seemed to stand still for Rebecca, her memories flowing like a river of pain through the field of her awareness. She saw once again in her mind the image of Sam raging in front of the window in their apartment. She recalled the bouts of nausea, the rampant OCD following the attack, the binge drinking that was so totally out of character for her, the paranoia and the despair. Everything had been planned out, controlled, guided by Neuray.
‘This doesn’t feel possible,’ she uttered, appalled. ‘Surely they can’t do this kind of thing?’
‘The technology has existed for years in separate fields,’ Sam said. ‘Chemicals in anti–depressants, electro–therapy, you name it, but it’s taken Neuray to bring it all together and make it work. The ability to influence our emotions, even our actions, is something that governments, Neuray and other corporations have sought for decades. Imagine what politicians would pay to have people vote for them; what corporations would pay to have us buy their products; what military leaders would pay to have the enemy lay down their arms and be led to slaughter? It sounds right out there, but the technology to do it is already in your mobile phone, your wristwatch, your car, your home. Everything is becoming interconnected, so that your fridge will order your shopping and your television will record your favourite shows without you lifting a finger. The whole network, the foundation for a society to literally be remotely controlled, is already in place and the signals could run through your mobile phone or the Internet router in your home. It’s everywhere. All they have to do is implant those chips into people in sufficient numbers, that’s all.’
‘We have to stop them,’ Rebecca urged. ‘We have to get this out into the open before Neuray can shut us down.’
A sudden crash made them both jump, and Rebecca whirled to see the grey man stagger out of the doors, one hand holding his battered face as he fled into the wild night outside. Sam made to pursue him but Rebecca grabbed his arm
‘Let him go,’ she insisted. ‘The law will catch up with him, trust me.’
Sam hesitated. ‘We can’t take this to the police yet. They won’t believe us.’
‘No, but we can leave them the trail they need to find us and to find out what’s really been happening. If we can get Ashton to help us, we can expose Dylan Carter. That’s what we have to do.’
Sam relented.
‘Fine, but first we have to get you back to your normal self.’
***
XXIX
Kieran Russell pulled up outside number seventeen and got out to see a haze of blue hazard lights flickering off the houses around him. Lights were on in windows, concerned residents watching as Mr and Mrs Kyle were gently helped into a waiting ambulance.
‘What happened?’ Kieran asked as he approached DCI Stone.
‘Rebecca Kyle happened,’ Stone replied. ‘She was here, break and enter.’
Kieran stared at the DCI in disbelief. ‘She broke into their house?’
Hannah Marchant was alongside Stone, Harris evidently off–duty. She watched him closely for several seconds before she spoke.
‘The residents reported that she was in the company of a man, and that it was he who committed the assault.’
‘Assault?’ Kieran’s mind was suddenly running overtime.
‘One broken nose, two lost teeth and a cracked rib,’ Hannah confirmed. ‘Sam’s father is going to be in a rough way for a few days, Kieran. The mother was unharmed but she’s halfway to hell with fear right now. There’s no sign of Kyle and this mystery man, so whatever they came for they presumably took with them.’
Kieran was trying to understand what the hell Rebecca had been thinking when she had come here. She was supposed to have stayed away, to avoid contaminating any evidence that they might find that could be used against whomever was really behind all of this. Now, she was right in the firing line, and he could tell by the expression on Stone’s face that he was in no mood for any excuses.
‘The gloves are off,’ he growled. ‘I want the media to know that Rebecca Kyle is considered to be a fugitive from justice and is travelling in the company of a man who is wanted for aggravated assault. I don’t care what she’s involved in or with whom, she gets brought in one way or the other, understood?’
Kieran nodded, having no reasonable argument against the course of action. Stone turned to Marchant.
‘Inform local Armed Response Units that they’re to be on the lookout for either Kyle or her companion, and a silver vehicle with two occupants. They’ll be avoiding ANPR coverage so bear that in mind.’
‘Will do,’ Hannah replied with some relish.
Kieran glanced at the ambulance as Stone headed into the home to search for evidence and Hannah started speaking to uniformed officers. He quickly turned away and hurried across to see Mr Lincoln being helped onto a gurney inside the ambulance, a paramedic tending to his injuries.
‘Mr Lincoln?’
The paramedic shook her head and waved Kieran away. ‘He’s already told the police what happened, he needs rest right now.’
Kieran didn’t try to push past the paramedic but he called out to the old man.
‘Was Rebecca attacking you or was she helping you?’
Peter Lincoln peered down at Kieran through his one good eye, the other puffy with bruising, blood caked onto his upper lip and chin. His broken nose was twisted to one side, constricting his voice, but he spoke none the less.
‘She was looking for something.’
‘What? What was she looking for?’
‘I don’t know.’
Kieran had worked for long enough as a police detective to know when somebody was hidin
g something.
‘Look, I don’t know what the hell is going on here but virtually everything that Rebecca has done is so far out of character it’s like I’m looking at somebody else entirely. Are you sure that you don’t know what she was looking for?’
Pete closed his eyes for a moment, sighed. ‘It was something to do with Sam’s work,’ he said finally, as though to admit anything that he had heard was a tough call for him. ‘Something to do with Neuray, a surveillance program and a charity initiative or something.’
‘Did she say where she was going?’
Pete Lincoln shook his head, sinking back into his pillow, and the paramedic pushed Kieran back. ‘I said enough. You can talk to him when he’s in recovery.’
Kieran stepped back down out of the ambulance and the paramedic slammed the door shut as the vehicle pulled away. Kieran glanced at the house, which was now being guarded by police. By the morning it would no doubt be swamped by the media once again when they picked up on the manhunt for a former Exeter CID detective. Rebecca had taken a huge risk coming here, and why she had done so in the dead of night instead of just visiting Sam’s parents during the day he didn’t know. Maybe they blamed her for the loss of their son or something? The report of assault at Neuray can’t have helped things.
Assault.
The same word kept cropping up in his mind, and of how Rebecca was adamant that Sam would never have done such a thing, as were his parents. Yet, she had made the report herself. Nothing made sense about the whole case, as though everything that they saw was a mirror image of what should have been. Sam was missing, a dead body had been found in the River Exe, a homeless man had been murdered, ostensibly by Rebecca Kyle or perhaps the mystery man she was now travelling with, and now Sam’s parents had been assaulted. Kieran knew in his guts that there had to be a link of some kind between the events but he had not the faintest idea what it could be and Rebecca was getting beyond his reach.
He could call her.
He pulled out his mobile phone and hefted it thoughtfully in his hand. If he called her, she might be able to tell him what the hell was going on. More importantly, if he could build a fresh rapor with her, it might give them the chance to pin–point her location and bring her in.
Kieran dialled her number, and stood alone on the pavement as he listened to the dial tone end with an abrupt beep and an automated voice telling him that the phone he was calling may be switched off. He pocketed the mobile phone and cursed to himself.
‘What the hell are you playing at, Becca?’
He stomped across the road and into the house, then heard Stone’s voice from upstairs and made his way up onto the landing. Hannah and Stone were looking into a small office as Kieran joined them.
‘Mr Lincoln said that Rebecca was in here, looking for something,’ Hannah said. ‘He said he didn’t know what.’
‘It was something to do with Neuray,’ Kieran said. ‘I managed to get that out of him in the ambulance.’
‘Why would there be Neuray property here?’ Hannah asked, confused. ‘Sam hasn’t lived here for years according to what we know.’
‘Evidently, he left something here that Kyle felt was important.’ Stone replied, ‘Again, she should have left that to us. Whatever we might have found here is presumably gone now. Have forensics take this room apart and find out if there’s a shred of evidence in here that might explain what Kyle was looking for.’
‘You’re not going to find anything,’ Kieran said. ‘Even if she did locate what she was looking for, if Sam had hidden it from Neuray then it won’t be something we can identify. They’re well hidden behind the Ministry of Defence.’
‘You think that she’s looking for data or something?’
Kieran thought about Greaves’s murder, Sam’s disappearance, the unidentified body they’d pulled from the Exe and Neuray’s classified work for the Ministry of Defence.
‘If Sam had been some kind of whistleblower, and Neuray were looking to silence him, that would perfectly fit the picture we’re seeing here.’
Stone thought about that for a moment.
‘Possibly,’ Hannah conceded, ‘but that doesn’t explain the murder of the homeless man.’
‘Witness,’ Kieran guessed, ‘although it doesn’t explain how the killer knew that Mintram was a witness.’
He glanced out of the window and saw the suburban estate outside, much like the one Rebecca lived in. He was suddenly struck by a memory, something he could recall seeing, but somehow could not quite remember in detail. Words tumbled and fluttered through his mind, conversations, sights, sounds, the buzz of a major crime investigation replaying itself over and over. The housing estate where Rebecca lived, the silver car… For a moment his brain fell silent as he saw there an image of a woman, standing on the pavement outside her home, talking to DC Marchant. A child in her arms. She’d looked tired. Words drifted through the field of his awareness.
‘I know she’s a detective so word kind of gets around about things like that. It’s an easy way to break the ice, if you know what I mean.’
For a moment he didn’t hit upon it, but then in a rush the woman’s words flashed through his mind.
‘I saw Rebecca outside with a young man. He’d been hanging around, talking on his mobile phone….’
Kieran recalled DCI Stone’s wipeboard back at the MIR.
‘What time did the witness on Kyle’s estate see her talking to the mystery man?’
Hannah performed a rapid mental calculation. ‘Ten fifteen.’
Kieran nodded as a plan formed in his mind.
‘Kyle was seen with the mystery man before she went off with him, right before she failed to show up at the station. The witness reported that the mystery man was on his mobile phone before speaking to Rebecca. We’ve already got Rebecca’s call logs from her providers both at the apartment and on her mobile. If we can cross–reference a call coming in from an unknown mobile at that time, it could be our guy.’
‘Worth checking,’ Stone confirmed.
‘We already have a warrant for Kyle’s arrest,’ Marchant said. ‘We’re good to go on her mobile phone, but we don’t have a warrant for the incoming number.’
‘We don’t need one,’ Kieran replied. ‘We only need to locate it when it pings a local tower when used. Find the mystery man’s mobile phone, and we’ll find the perpetrator of the assault here. We might find Rebecca Kyle too.’
‘If it turns out that the mobile phone can be traced, we’ll focus all available units on that area,’ Stone said in reply. ‘As for your little conspiracy theory, it’s all speculation without Kyle here to confirm or deny it.’
‘Why the hell else would she go so far off the rails like this?’ Kieran challenged. ‘If they’re all chasing one thing, something that Sam possessed or had stolen from Neuray, something sufficiently valuable, then the picture makes sense. Neuray want it back, Rebecca wants it to prove her innocence.’
Stone peered at him.
‘What could she possibly use to prove her innocence that she couldn’t have told us about by now? I don’t care what she’s after, I want her in custody, soon. Get on it!’
***
XXX
Sergie Valentin negotiated the narrow lanes across the moors with his headlights off, trusting his night vision to show him the way despite the horrendous conditions. At night, a set of headlights threading their way across such rough ground would draw too much attention, and that was the last thing he needed right now.
His face stung from where Rebecca Kyle had attempted to scratch his eyes out, and he cursed the woman’s memory. He would find it difficult to leave the country by normal channels now, with such vivid welts and bloodied scabs lining his face. Yet, he could not afford to stay, for it would only be a matter of time before the British police identified him as “Colin” and cornered him. The fools who had carried out the Novichok attack on Russian traitors in Salisbury had exposed themselves to the British authorities, but at least they had
made it back home before they were identified. Now, he was in a race against time.
He drove down off the moors toward the main road, and there, tucked out of sight in a narrow alley, he saw a silver Mercedes. Sergie slowed and pulled in close to the Mercedes, then pulled his collar up about his neck against the rain and the cold and got out of his car. He hurried across to the other vehicle and tried the front passenger door. It was locked, forcing him to use the rear doors. This one opened, and he climbed in and shut out the cold and the rain with some relief.
The air–conditioned comfort of the chauffuer–driven Mercedes was a revelation after the cold, desolate moors. A smoked–glass screen separated him from the driver, and the only sound was the rattling of rain on the roof and windows of the vehicle as it sat on a lonely farm road far out on the moors. Sergie’s coat dripped rain water onto the immaculate leather seats.
‘Well?’
The man sitting in the front of the car spoke softly. The smoked glass prevented Sergie from seeing him, but he could hear him well enough.
‘It’s done,’ Sergie confirmed. ‘Artyom should be finished soon.’
Artyom was Sergie’s accomplice, the trigger man, the grey man.
‘She did not suffer?’ the man asked.
‘Artyom likes a clean kill,’ Sergie said by way of a reply.
‘And the data?’
Sergie reached into his pocket and pulled out the small RAM drive that he examined with interest. ‘It’s all here.’
‘Put it on the seat next to you, then get out.’
Sergie smiled without warmth, his eyes black in the darkness. He kept the drive in his hand.
‘Patience, for we have not yet been paid in full.’
‘You work for Neuray,’ the man growled, apparently disgusted by the criminal sharing his car.
‘So did Vitaly, and look what happened to him.’
The man said nothing. Vitaly’s body had been pulled from the River Exe after the hit on Samuel Lincoln. Sergie had been shocked: Vitaly had been a skilled killer, and neither he nor Artyom had suspected that Sam Lincoln would overpower his would–be assassin. The net was closing and Sergie knew that he had to move fast now to break away from any association with Neuray.
