Survival Instinct (The Adventures of Eric and Ursula Book 2)

by A. D. Winch

  The procedure for finding the children was simple but time consuming and tedious. Each gendarme and Team Jupiter agent would walk around their designated area. They would stop people, knock on doors, go to shops and show the photos to anyone they encountered. They told everyone they were trying to locate these missing children. They lied that their parents were worried, that they had run away from home, that their grandparents were dying and that their help would bring broken families back together again. But nobody could, or would, help them.

  One pair found the answers they received changed the nearer they got to the Benjamin’s apartment. Not that they knew this. People started to look intently at the photos, Eric’s in particular. They looked at every detail; commented on his memorable blond hair, his unforgettable brown eyes and his striking looks. He had been seen on the Eiffel Tower, in the Louvre, at the Gare de Nord, riding a bicycle beside the Seine, working in a patisserie, on the metro, underneath the Arc de Triomphe, climbing the Pompidou Centre, in fact all over Paris. The photo of Ursula, on the other hand, resulted in the same immediate responses.

  “No, I have never seen her.”

  “No, I don’t know her.”

  “No, who is she?”

  People shook their heads or walked off or apologised for not being able to help or promised that they would be in touch if they saw her.

  Even before the gendarmes and Team Jupiter agent had reached the area where Ursula had grown up, the Benjamins knew what was happening. A network of friends, neighbours and acquaintances had passed on the message that Ursula was being looked for by a gendarme and a huge American.

  Mémé paced around her small kitchen with a bowl in one hand and a spoon ferociously stirring a mixture in the other.

  “What are we going to do?” she kept muttering under her breath every time she turned direction, which was very frequently.

  Granddad Benjamin sat on the sofa in a faded T-shirt. His brow was wrinkled, and he held his chin in his hands.

  “We have to phone them, Jerome!” blurted out Mémé, stomping into the living room. “It’s the only way. They have to know.”

  Granddad Benjamin looked up at her and asked, “What if they’re listening to our calls?”

  “How can they? Anyway, I don’t care. I need to know that our Ursula is okay. We need to make sure she stays safe.”

  Mémé strode purposefully towards the dial phone sitting on a small coffee table. She took out the well-used telephone book, placed a pair of glasses on her nose and found Andrea’s telephone number. When she had finished dialling, she gripped the phone tight to her ear and waited for it to connect. It didn’t.

  “The number you have called does not exist. Please try again,” said a recorded voice.

  Mémé tried again and again before putting the phone down. Her hand was shaking. She crossed the room slowly; her shoulders drooped as she did so and sat down heavily next to Granddad Benjamin.

  “We’ve lost her,” she whispered and burst into tears on his shoulder.

  Granddad Benjamin placed his arm around her and pulled her tight beside him.

  “I don’t think she’s lost. I think they are hiding. If these people are looking for Ursula and Eric, that is a good thing. It means that whoever is looking for them doesn’t know where they are. We should be pleased that the children left when they did, and as quickly they did. These people are trying to find her. Ursula and Eric won’t get caught, and they’ll call us when they can,” he said calmly.

  “How did we ever get to this? What happened to our life? Why did it change? I want it back the way it was.”

  “You know as well as I do that our lives changed for the better when you found Ursula. Would you really change all those happy memories? You also know that from when she could walk, through to talking, kindergarten and school, she was different. We just saw it as normal. You always said you thought Ursula was special. Now we know she is, but unfortunately, we are not alone. I am sure she is in hiding and more importantly I am sure that she is safe. It won’t be easy but try not to worry. I’ll say it again. They are trying to find her which means they don’t know where she is. Keep that in mind.”

  “I hope you’re right,” replied Mémé through sniffles.

  “I am and I bet the organisation Andrea and Alexander told us about are currently very, very frustrated.”

  Granddad Benjamin grinned victoriously.

  “What do you mean nothing?” bellowed Agent Angel at Team Jupiter’s leader, over their VOIP connection. “I don’t believe no one has ever seen them and no one knows them. The whole situation stinks. Sounds to me like they are closing ranks, protecting their own. Goddam cretins! Keep on it, you are in the right place and someone knows something. You just have to make them talk, if you get my meaning. No more softly, softly. Find those kids!”

  He turned away from the screens and towards Agent Hoover, “Hoover, get Team Omega to check the Meyer Residence in Paris and then return to Prague to check there too. I don’t trust these so-called-kids in the slightest. They seem to mix in very protective circles, circles that are one step ahead of us. Once you’ve done that, let Kurtz know that there has been a delay with this rendition.”

  Agent Hoover nodded.

  Kurtz was sat in her office, away from the labs. It was a plain affair and contained the regulation grey metal desk, regulation grey metal cupboard and regulation grey metal chair. There was only one personal touch. It was a photo of Kurtz standing proudly with her father.

  When she had finished speaking to Agent Hoover, she put the phone down, stamped her foot and looked at the rota. Professor Schwarzkopf was currently in the labs working on the pods by himself, and the others were sleeping. She decided to tell him the news first and left her office to find him.

  She stopped in the changing room outside the lab and put on the white protective clothing that she insisted everyone wore. On her feet she wore long plastic boots, her body was imprisoned in a white plastic sock, on her head she wore a plastic shower cap and over her mouth she placed a white pollution mask.

  Once ready she unzipped the door to the makeshift lab, stepped inside and zipped it up behind her. Satisfied that she would not contaminate the area she turned from the door, stepped forward and promptly tripped over two boots lying on the floor beside the entrance. She landed on a plastic body sock, shower cap and pollution mask. In front of her, stepping off a ladder and into a pod, was Professor Schwarzkopf. He was dressed in beige cotton slacks and a matching shirt and had his back to her. Kurtz stood up carefully and coughed to get his attention, but he did not respond. She coughed again, louder this time, but there was still no response. On her third fake cough, Professor Schwarzkopf looked up from the pod and directly down at her.

  “If you want to get my attention, address me by name,” he said. “If you have a cough, and need sympathy, go and see the medics on the base or find a compassionate soldier, if such a thing exists. You’ll get no sympathy from me.”

  He turned away from her.

  Kurtz stood looking at him, unsure of what to say next. Finally, she said, “Professor Schwarzkopf, I clearly stated that the following items should be worn when investigating the contents of the pods. Number one – the pollution mask.”

  “Couldn’t breathe.”

  “Number two – a plastic cap.”

  “Gave me an itchy scalp and was not good for my dandruff.”

  “Number three – a plastic body sock.”

  “Caused me to sweat.”

  “Number four – a pair of plastic boots.”

  “Made my feet smell.”

  Professor Schwarzkopf bent down lower in the pod until Kurtz could no longer see him.

  Kurtz stamped her foot on the hard floor, “Professor Schwarzkopf, may I remind you that…”

  “No, you may not,” interrupted Professor Schwarzkopf without standing up.

  Kurtz’s voice was rising and becoming even more squeakier than usual, “You are part of my team and as such as
I expect you to conform to the rules like everyone else.”

  “You expect? In that case, I fail to live up to your high expectations.”

  “You will conform to the rules!” Kurtz shouted at the pod.

  Professor Schwarzkopf didn’t even bother to put his head back up and out of the pod, “Or what?”

  “Or, or, or, I’ll have you removed from the base.”

  Her face was bright scarlet.

  This time Professor Schwarzkopf popped his head up and out of the pod.

  “Have you finished?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Now let me tell you some things. Firstly, please do have me removed from the base. It will be a pleasure and for once I will be grateful to you. However, I wouldn’t bet on you succeeding. Secondly, I am not part of your team and don’t think that I will ever play by your rules. Lastly, don’t forget who has opened these pods for you again,” he pointed at the two pods and the dart, “and who can close them again? Me.” He paused, “Now what do you want?”

  Kurtz stared at him. Her face was growing redder still, and she looked as if she was about to blow. Somehow she managed to control herself but when she spoke again, her voice was even more high pitched than earlier.

  “I have just received intel that the rendition of White King and Black Queen has been delayed. In order to proceed with the Identical Hybrid Beings project, we will need to find more DNA from one of these pods.”

  “What happened to the sample we collected last time I was here?” asked Professor Schwarzkopf, not really caring about the answer.

  “The computer wiped the DNA sample from its memory because it was programmed to delete all errors in order to save ROM space. The previous sample was deemed to be an error.”

  “And the physical sample?” shouted Professor Schwarzkopf, his head buried in the pod.

  “Professor Warne sneezed on it and it blew away.”

  From the pod, Kurtz could hear laughter followed by a coughing fit. She turned and left without saying another word.

  As befitting a man of his age, Professor Schwarzkopf slowly climbed out of the pod, carefully stepped down the ladder and stood back on the floor. He was deep in thought and also concerned. Years of life had taught him that he no longer agreed with the notion of IHBs and would silently and secretly oppose it. He knew that Kurtz would be returning soon with her team in a show of collective strength and to find some DNA samples. He felt strongly that it was his job to delay her.

  It would be a shame if the pods closed again, he thought to himself.

  When he left the makeshift lab, both pods were already shut tight. The team would find some DNA samples in the pods later but first he had work to do. He had to go around the base to collect bits of skin, nail clippings and strands of hair that would inexplicably find their way into the pods. These would give the team the DNA that Professor Schwarzkopf wanted them to find.

  Back to Contents

  ***

  Chapter 12 – Home at last

  Ursula, Alexander and Andrea could no longer worry about Eric. They had to think about themselves as the force of the speeding train was pulling them under it. They held tightly to the cables on the tunnel walls as wagon after wagon loudly rattled by. Then suddenly it was over. All the wagons had passed; the train went round a bend and was gone.

  Alexander dropped to his knees; crawled forward to try to find the remains of Eric and put his hand into a warm, wet patch. Andrea put the binoculars to her eyes and looked towards the point where she had last seen Eric. Ursula just laughed nervously. In her head, she could hear Eric saying, ‘Well that was lucky. If it had been a passenger train then someone could have crapped on my head.’

  Lying, on the sleepers, his head no more than a few centimetres from the rail, Eric was smiling. He had often wondered if it were possible for a train to travel over someone without injuring them. Now he knew that, on this occasion at least, it had been possible but it was not an experience he would choose to repeat any time soon.

  He lay there, breathing in and out deeply as an oily hand rested on his cheek and traced the smile on his face.

  “Thank God!” shouted Alexander.

  “Get off me,” mumbled Eric through Alexander’s hand, spitting oil out of this mouth. “And help me up.”

  “A please would be nice,” answered Alexander.

  He attempted to pull Eric up but did not succeed.

  Andrea walked towards them both with the binoculars held firmly against her eyes. She leaned down; pulled the bag straps from under the rail where they had been caught and helped them both up.

  “It is time to go,” Andrea said. “Your survival was improbable and it is highly unlikely that you would live through another similar episode.”

  Without any other further comment, she pulled Eric and Alexander back towards the tunnel wall.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay,” whispered Ursula.

  “I’m just glad no one emptied the toilet on my head,” he replied.

  Alexander fell in behind Ursula. They all fumbled for the strap of the bag in front and moved forward, in the darkness. They had not gone far before Andrea told them to stop. From her pocket, she took out a bunch of keys and placed the correct one in the padlock.

  A large, metal door swung open, and Andrea led them inside. Once they were all through, she slammed the door firmly shut, locked it with a bolt on the inside and turned on the light.

  A solitary bulb lit up above their heads, and they found themselves in a storeroom no bigger than a bathroom. Cobwebs were strung over the brick walls and cables covered in dust hung from the wall like ivy. On the dirt floor was a rusty spade and a pick axe, and on the wall opposite was a padlocked circuit box. Andrea turned the keys over in her hand, inserted the correct one into the padlock and opened the box. Inside there were no circuits at all; instead it contained a modern looking keypad. Andrea typed in the code, and the wall immediately started to move back to reveal a long tunnel, dimly lit by naked bulbs.

  It had been carved in a straight line through the rock and earth. Water dripped in various spots along the tunnel, and small puddles had formed on the floor. The tunnel looked damp and smelt musty. At several points along its length wooden beams had been buried into the walls to support the roof. To Eric the supports did not look strong enough. He looked down the tunnel and shivered - it was only wide enough for one person at a time.

  “Alexander, you will go first. At the end of the tunnel, you will find another keypad. Ignore it. It is a decoy. Touching it will seal the tunnel and set off the alarm. We will then be trapped. It is only possible to override this from the outside. Please do not touch it. Simply push the door handle and enter. This is all you have to do to exit. Ursula, you will follow, then Eric. I will be last in order to shut this door securely.”

  Alexander and Ursula did as they had been told without questioning. Eric, however, remained rooted to the spot. His palms had become cold and clammy, his hands were shaking and his breathing was noticeably louder.

  “I’m not going down there,” he said, his voice quivering.

  “It is time to overcome your fear, Eric. I have a strategy to assist you. We shall talk about this in a moment,” Andrea said.

  She then shoved him forcefully into the tunnel, followed him in and quickly shut the door behind them both.

  Eric’s breathing became rapider, and as he looked Andrea in the eye, the rage inside him grew stronger.

  “Let me out,” he barked. “Let me OUT!”

  Andrea remained calm and pointed over her shoulder at Ursula and Alexander, who had stopped walking. They had turned around and were watching the events behind them unfold.

  “That is the way out,” she told him.

  “I’m not moving,” shouted Eric. “LET ME OUT!”

  Andrea ignored Eric’s pleas and instead punched him hard in the stomach. As he doubled over, she spun him around and twisted his arm behind him.

  “You are breaking my arm!” squealed Eric, unable to shak
e himself free from Andrea’s vice-like grip.

  “Then you had better move before it is broken,” she replied and pushed him forward.

  Within five minutes, they were out of the tunnel, having exited through a cupboard in the Meyer Villa’s secret cellar. Andrea released Eric the moment they were out, leaving him with a sore shoulder and a badly damaged ego.

  “What did you do that for? You’re supposed to look after me,” he shouted in Andrea’s face.

  Andrea wiped her face clean before replying.

  “I did look after you. My strategy worked. You are now safe from harm. Your hands have stopped shaking. Your body temperature is returning to normal as is your breathing. You have no reason to complain.”

  Before Eric could moan she turned away and left him with his mouth open like a goldfish.

  A circular floodlight, hanging from the rock ceiling, came on and bathed the cellar in bright light. Ursula looked at the platform near to the roof and the irregular shaped steps that came down from it. She remembered Eric luring her into the pantry and then trapping her in the tunnel that led to this platform. It had been pitch black, and she had lost her footing. Miraculously, Andrea had caught her.

  Andrea was leaning against the curved, terracotta walls watching Eric. The night vision binoculars were still around her neck.

  Maybe it wasn’t a miracle, Ursula thought and turned to look at Eric.

  Eric had his back to them all. He stepped forwards on the marble floor and towards the strange looking objects that covered it. Nothing had been moved or touched since the last time they were down there. Some objects were as small as a mobile phone and others were as big as a car. Some looked like guns and others like hairdryers. Many looked like rockets, a few looked like vehicles, but overall it looked like a strange yet organised junk yard.

  A dull, whirring noise came from a doorway in the brickwork next to the junk yard. Andrea walked towards this doorway, and the others followed her.

  The room was much smaller than the first one, about the size of an average kitchen. One side of it was taken up with two large screens, nine smaller ones and a computer the size of six fridge freezers. Lights flashed behind glass doors; metres of multi-coloured cables joined up countless circuit boards, and six fans whirred noisily, keeping everything else cool.