Her Mind's Eye

by D C Vaughn

  Rebecca looked at Sam, who grinned back at her. ‘I thought it a good idea to get some insurance.’

  Officers from the Armed Response Units poured down into the cathedral grounds, their Heckler & Kock G–36 rifles pointed unwaveringly at the two Russians, backed up by more officers with baton guns. Dog units followed them, trained canines barking and straining at their leashes as their barks echoed around the cathedral.

  Rebecca felt her heart beating faster in her chest as she tried to get a grip on everything that was happening so fast around her. The cathedral was ablaze with the flickering glow of hazard lights, the comforting blue of the law, and an officer with a loud hailer called out to the gunmen.

  ‘Put down your weapons and get down on the ground!’

  The command echoed around the courtyard and the two Russians shifted position, back to back as they struggled to find an escape route.

  ‘Get down on the ground now!’

  Rebecca saw Colin’s face twisted with fear and desperation, eyes wide, mouth open. At his back, the assassin grit his teeth, rage burning in his features. His gaze met hers, and then it fell upon Sam. She saw his rage cut loose in an instant, his focus no longer on the police or the homeless people around him, every fibre of his being focused instead on Sam.

  ‘Sam, get down!’

  Rebecca heard her own cry even as the gunman whirled and fired.

  Rebecca hurled herself into Sam’s side as the gunshot split the night air around her, a deafening crash as she landed hard on the frigid grass. Frost and cold mud slammed into her as she rolled onto her back, and only then did she see the armed police opened fire on the Russian. His body trembled as rounds impacted and he was flung onto his back, the pistol spinning from his grasp to land on the grass alongside him.

  Colin dropped onto one knee to return fire and squeezed the trigger. Two shots blasted from his pistol before a shower of bullets hit him square in the chest and he slumped awkwardly to one side, his arms limp either side of his body as he stared blankly at the police and then collapsed backwards onto the grass.

  The homeless people scattered into the darkness, darting away between the trees and around the cathedral grounds. Rebecca’s lungs felt divested of air, her eyes starring as she tried to gather her wits about her. She reached to her chest, searching for a wound, but there was none.

  And then she saw Sam.

  He was lying with his back to her, the fabric of his jacket glistening with thick blood from an exit wound.

  ‘No!’

  Her own shriek sounded as though it had come from somebody else as she scrambled to his side. Sam’s eyes were open but so was his mouth, gasping for air, and she could see that he was in shock and pain. She tried to cradle him but his body was rigid, his shirt and coat drenched with the blood spilling from the wound in his chest as he looked at her.

  His lips moved but no sound came forth.

  ‘Sam?’

  She could hear the grief twisting her vocal chords, could feel the sharp needles stabbing the corners of her eyes as she looked down at him and saw him manage a brief, feeble smile, his voice a scant whisper.

  ‘Be yourself.’

  She stared back down at him, trying to think of something useful to say, but even as the words reached her lips so she saw that the life was already gone from his eyes. They stared back at her, wide but unseeing. She heard a distant, keening scream soar around her as the scene of rushing police and the blazing kaleidoscope of hazard lights blurred into a disorientating halo, and then hands were helping her to stumble away and she finally could take no more.

  The world faded away into darkness as her legs gave way beneath her, a cold embrace emptier than anything that she could remember feeling before.

  ***

  XLIII

  ‘If I hadn’t witnessed every moment, I would not have believed it.’

  DCI Stone sat opposite Rebecca in the interview room, DC Marchant alongside him. The seat beneath Rebecca felt hard and uncomfortable, which wasn’t surprising seeing as she’d been in the room for most of the day.

  ‘Nor would I,’ she replied.

  Her own voice sounded alien to her ears, those of Stone and Marchant coming it seemed from a long distance away. Her mind was a haze, a mess, disparate thoughts and feelings flying this way and that to collide with each other in dazzling bursts of rage, only to fade once more into the blackness of an all–consuming grief.

  DCI Stone had informed her of the importance of a thorough debrief, while at the same time expressing his condolences for her loss. Sam had been pronounced dead–on–arrival at the hospital, the bullet that hit him having punctured his heart. There was nothing that could have been done. Rebecca had accepted the news without any visible or tangible emotional reaction, her mind so addled now that she could not really face up to the knowledge that this time, Sam really was gone forever.

  Stone leaned back in his seat, going over his notes.

  ‘So, Sam was attacked in order to silence him, and you were taken to hospital with a minor head injury. You got transferred into a ward run by Neuray – then what?’

  ‘They must have used the time to implant the chip under my skin,’ Rebecca replied, ‘on my head. With all the bruising from the near miss, it would have been easy for them to insert the chip without me knowing about it. I was out cold due to fear of bleeding on the brain until the hospital determined I’d got away with it. Neuray merely kept me under a little longer than was necessary.’

  Stone nodded, but he was frowning.

  ‘What? You think that they did it some other way?’

  ‘No,’ Stone replied quickly, ‘Sam told us about the chips and how they work. I don’t doubt what you’re telling me is true, I just can’t get my head around it.’

  ‘Nor me,’ Rebecca replied. ‘It still gives me the creeps. This thing was in my head and it was being used to control the way I felt, the way I acted. The binge drinking, the temper, everything was different but I felt normal in myself at the same time. I still don’t understand it.’

  ‘Bloody awful things,’ Hannah said. ‘I hope they never see the light of day again. And the screens in the house rented by Sergie? We searched that property but we didn’t find anything.’

  ‘They must have moved them,’ Rebecca said. ‘Ultimately, when I think about it, it was just a collection of television monitors and associated wiring. I mean, it could have been a set–up but given how things worked out I reckon I was seeing the real deal, people’s lives being watched remotely in every detail.’

  ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,’ Hannah added. ‘After Sam grabbed me and told me all of this, he said that I had to dress up as a homeless person to make this work. How did you know that the chips were all inserted into homeless people?’

  ‘They’re a perfect target,’ Rebecca shrugged, ‘hard for law enforcement to track wanderers with no fixed abode, no doctor, often no medical history. They’ll do anything for some hard cash and Neuray ran a charity operation in the city that drew them in like flies. I felt certain they were involved somehow, but it was the screens that gave it away.’

  ‘How so?’ Stone asked.

  ‘They were all outside when I was watching,’ she replied. ‘All of them were wandering about, in no hurry as though they had no real place to go. I didn’t see any one of them sitting at home or in an office or other place of work, which is unusual for a Tuesday morning, and nor were any of them holding mobile phones or other technology. One had a really shambling gait, two others were asleep, again unusual for a Tuesday morning at that time. My guess was hangovers from cheap, strong beer.’

  Marchant nodded, understanding the connection.

  ‘What about the CEO of Neuray?’ Rebecca asked. ‘Has he been charged?’

  Stone shook his head.

  ‘We don’t have enough evidence to charge Dylan Carter right now, so we’re playing this one carefully because he’s still protesting his innocence. He’s a powerful person with stron
g links to the Ministry of Defence and to the governments of several countries, so I don’t want to make a move until we’re absolutely sure that we’ve got him stone cold.’

  ‘Can’t be anybody else,’ Rebecca pointed out. ‘They’re the only ones who could have arranged the whole thing.’

  ‘That’s not the issue,’ Marchant said. ‘They’re closing ranks with the MOD, who don’t want the media crawling all over their spooky little devices. We’ve rounded up most of the test subjects and the MOD is asking that we allow them to remove the devices so that they can be stored safely away from the public in the interests of their safety.’

  ‘Sure,’ Rebecca murmured softly, ‘it’s all being done for their safety.’

  ‘We can’t pressure the MOD, even in a homicide case such as this,’ Stone pointed out. ‘The murders were commited by two foreign nationals who are now both deceased, and while the technology was the proximal cause of the entire conspiracy a criminal conviction won’t need to hinge upon it being in the public sphere. The MOD’s lawyers will argue that case and there’s not a great deal that we can do about it.’

  ‘They can’t be allowed to get away with it,’ Rebecca insisted. ‘This is about more than justice, more than about securing a conviction. If we don’t hit these people hard then there will be no deterent to them simply carrying on their research in a different company, maybe even a different country. Sam will have died for nothing.’

  ‘The lawyers will have to pick that one apart for us,’ Stone said. ‘We can’t move on the Neuray board unless something else comes to light that can help us secure a conviction. Sam provided us with lots of evidence and detail that takes you out of the frame for any crime and also proves what’s been going on, but nothing that can secure a conviction against anyone at Neuray. Carter is arguing that this is all down to the Russians, who must have infiltrated Neuray and gained access to the technology.’

  Rebecca nodded angrily. The moment Sergie and his accomplice had been gunned down, she knew that most of the best evidence implicating either the Kremlin or the Neuray board had been lost. The media were onto the case and comparing it to the Salisbury poisonings, having identified the Russian who’d been pulled from the River Exe days before. They were putting two and two together and coming up with eighty–six already, but for once their suspicions were at least pointed in the right direction.

  ‘So, what do we do now?’ Rebecca asked.

  ‘We will continue the investigation,’ Stone replied. ‘You will be released and will be taking some time off. I suggest you make good use of it because this thing’s going to roll on for quite a while and you’ll probably be questioned by the Police Commissioner and others before being returned to duty.’

  Rebecca stood, but then something crossed her mind. ‘The surgeon, did you question him?’ Rebecca asked.

  ‘What surgeon?’ Stone asked.

  ‘Then one who performed the surgery on my wound,’ Rebecca said. ‘Doctor Miller, I think his name was? He must have been the person who put the chip in my head.’

  ***

  XLIV

  ‘Rebecca!’

  The doorway of Kershaw Hall was open and Ashton strode out into the night air to embrace her as she walked in. She had contacted him that morning, after returning home from the police headquarters and finally getting a proper night’s sleep in her own bed. Ashton had insisted that she join him for dinner at his home, which for Rebecca was like returning to old times, before the horrors of the past week.

  ‘My god, when I saw the news of the police shooting at the cathedral, I thought I’d lost you,’ he whispered to her.

  ‘I did what I had to do. I’m sure you would have done the same.’

  ‘Pah!’ Ashton chuckled, touching the bruises still lining his eyes and face. ‘If I were fifty years younger perhaps, but even then I doubt it. Come, come inside.’

  Ashton lived in a Grade II listed mansion out near the edge of the moors, surrounded by lands that he had inherited as a younger man when his parents had passed away. The eldest of three sons, he alone controlled the wealth of the Kershaw estate, and Rebecca had long gotten used to the grand hallways and the ornate décor of the huge home.

  Ashton led her into the dining hall, where a long table of polished mahogany awaited, laid with silver cutlery and glowing candles. Ashton had been putting the finishing touches to the table as they took their seats, and now he was animated and enthusiastic, fussing over her as he poured sparkling wine from a decanter before taking his own seat at the head of the table. He glanced at herand then raised his glass.

  ‘To family,’ he said, ‘to friends, and to Sam.’

  Rebecca raised her glass, and they each took a sip before setting the glasses down.

  ‘I must apologise for all that you have been through,’ Ashton said. ‘If it were not for me stepping down from the day to day running of Neuray, it’s likely that none of this would have happened.’

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ Rebecca assured him. ‘This was all down to Russian agents infiltrating your company, and the board of directors should have been more careful with whom they chose to do business.’

  ‘The Russians,’ Ashton murmured. ‘They have grown callous again, more so than they ever were under the Politboro. I can’t imagine what else they intend to do in their mission to gain the upper hand over western society.’

  ‘Anything and everything,’ Rebecca said. ‘They’re as great a threat now as there ever has been, regardless of whether they’re pointing their weapons at us. As we all know, missiles are not the only technology that can take a country apart these days. What will happen to the implants that Sam created?’

  The old man sighed, shrugged as he stared into his glass.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘I’m too old now to expect to be around to see what will become of them. Given the trouble that has already been caused, I would imagine that there would be some kind of moriatum on their use, although that won’t be something that would concern countries like North Korea or Iran for instance. They would still seek to obtain and use the technology for the purpose of spying and perhaps influencing the west.’

  Her looked up at her. ‘What was done with the stolen data?’

  Rebecca took another sip of her drink. ‘MI5 has taken the data and ensured that it will remain out of the reach of other nations,’ she replied simply.

  ‘Good,’ Ashton said. ‘And you, young lady, despite enduring what Dylan Carter did to you, still managed to solve the case and emerge triumphant! What accolades will the Devon and Cornwall constabulary be bestowing you with for such fortitude and tenacity?’

  ‘I wouldn’t call the result triumphant,’ she replied softly.

  ‘Well, no, of course not,’ Ashton said quickly. ‘At least the case is solved.’

  ‘Well, the case is not yet over.’

  Ashton raised an eyebrow. ‘It isn’t?’

  ‘No. There’s a problem, you see, something that’s been bothering me since I was introduced to Sergie, who called himself Colin, outside my home.’

  ‘Go on,’ Ashton said, folding his hands before him as he listened intently.

  ‘Well, everything that happened afterward was placed in a new light when he showed me the television screens that displayed people’s thoughts and experiences in real time. There was one thing missing.’

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘A feed showing my own implant at work,’ Rebecca replied.

  Ashton watched her in silence for what felt like an age but was in fact only seconds, but Rebecca saw a siesmic shudder in his gaze, as though he had been suddenly struck a fatal blow by some unseen weapon.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘Your own implant?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied brightly. ‘You see, we have it on Sam’s good authority that there were twelve subjects in total, two of whom were dead, leaving nine behind plus myself. Yet, there were only nine screens in Sergie’s home, when there should have been ten of course, t
he extra one for me.’

  Ashton’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘Would he not have concealed that extra screen to avoid giving away the fact that you were being watched?’

  ‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘But the problem we have is; how could Sergie have known that I was also implanted?’

  Ashton chuckled. ‘Well, because Dylan Carter would have told him, surely?’

  Rebecca set her glass down.

  ‘Therein lies the rub,’ she said. ‘Dylan Carter claims no knowledge of Sergie and says that he was working for the Russians.’

  Ashton snorted a laugh.

  ‘Of course he would. He’d have done anything to pass the blame for his actions onto others, and what better target than me, an old man who probably won’t be here in a few years’ time.’

  ‘But then,’ Rebecca said as she leaned forward on the table, ‘there is also the issue of the mobile phone calls.’

  Ashton frowned. ‘What calls?’

  ‘Sergie,’ she said, ‘made a call to me before we first met, urging me to meet with him. Some hours later, the same mobile phone was used to call the Russian man shot by police outside Exeter cathedral two nights ago, a man named Artyom. The calls link them together as Russian agents working here in the UK, and provide beyond reasonable doubt that they were responsible for the murders of James Mintram and other homeless folks in Exeter over a two–month period.’

  Ashton seemed bemused. ‘And?’

  ‘One of those calls was made from a road just outside a former army training camp on Dartmoor called Okehampton,’ Rebecca said. ‘The call was from Sergie to his accomplice, and occurred at the same time that I was locked inside a cage about to die at the Russian’s hands.’

  ‘Go on,’ Ashton said, his hands folded beneath his chin.

  ‘The caller then left the area in a silver car, and would have vanished were it not for the ANPR camera system. He was caught on camera leaving the area minutes after the call.’