by Andy Briggs
The man laughed, waving his hand as if swatting the comment aside. “A name created by others to instil a certain fear within people. But it will suffice.”
“I take it you are not planning to release me.”
“No.”
“But you think that I will help you?”
“Will you?” he asked in surprise.
“No.”
“I thought not,” he said pleasantly. “All that’s really important is that you are safe and well, because when the time comes, your friends will do anything to keep it so. Anything.” The last word dripped with such malevolence that it sent a shiver through Lot. It left no doubt in her mind that the villain’s ultimate plan didn’t include her safe delivery home.
“It always looks easy in the movies,” Mason grumbled as he clawed his way through the air-conditioning tunnel that he was convinced was getting even more constricted.
Breaking into the air-conditioning building had been stupidly easy once Dev had looped the security camera feeds and put the intruder alarms to sleep. Crawling down the air conduits had been Mason’s idea, and Dev couldn’t think of anything better – air needed to be circulated underground, and that’s how they usually did it in films.
However, Dev was slowly learning that the big screen was not a useful guide, as films tended to gloss over awkward situations – such as Mason barely fitting in the tube. He was forced to leave their precious kitbag on the surface. And now they had reached a junction with the options of going left, right, straight on – or dropping one hundred metres down.
“Down’s where we’re supposed to go,” said Dev. Fortunately it was a black hole, and the light from his mobile phone barely illuminated anything, so he wasn’t feeling his usual waves of vertigo.
“Could do with a rope,” Mason said aloud. “I should make that invention, a rope in a bag.”
“We’re going to have to do this the old-fashioned way.”
Mason was alarmed. “You mean dropping straight down?”
Dev sighed. “No, like, climbing down. Arms and legs stretched like this.” He demonstrated, holding them straight out. “Brace your back against the wall, and slowly shuffle down.”
Mason was reluctant, but agreed they had little choice but to slowly clamber down the shaft. Their damp trainers squeaked on the metal, constantly threatening to send them plummeting. Dev regretted going first, as every time he stopped Mason would continue until his bum knocked Dev’s head – threatening to dislodge him.
After what seemed like an endless journey, they finally reached the bottom of the shaft. Dev had assumed the tunnel would sensibly bend at the bottom and come out in a wall. Instead it ended with a fan below them, heavy blades rapidly scything the air.
“See,” said Mason, peering down. “If we had fallen, we wouldn’t have been splattered on the floor. We would have been sliced and diced by that.”
Dev reached for the fan’s central motor. All he had to do was touch it to establish contact with the circuits beneath and shut it down. A simple act . . . if only he could reach. Dev’s fingers groped the air just above the metal housing.
He clenched his fist and concentrated, wondering if he, like Kardach, could wirelessly transmit his powers. He strained, his arm shaking, the veins on his forehead pulsing . . . yet nothing happened.
He was forced to edge lower down the tube, closer to the whirling blades. The strong breeze ruffled his clothing, and he could even feel the air moving through his jeans, giving him goosebumps. He stretched for the motor again. . .
It was still beyond his grasp.
“Dev, stop messing around.”
“I can’t reach it!” He flinched at the sound of wet rubber screeching on metal. “What was that?”
Mason sounded calm but strained. “I’m losing my grip. Now would be a good time to hurry.”
Dev glanced up to see Mason slip a few centimetres closer. Mason’s legs were trembling with exertion, pushing against the side of the tube, but his trainers continued to slowly slide.
Dev readjusted his position. Any lower and he would be sitting on the blades. He bent forward and stretched for the motor housing between his legs. His fingernails touched the surface – but it still wasn’t enough contact for his synaesthesia.
Another drawn-out squeak from above – and Dev suddenly felt the pressure from Mason’s backside on his shoulders.
“Mason!”
“My feet are going!”
The added weight painfully folded Dev’s body over – but it was enough to force his hand on to the engine mount, and more importantly a wire that ran along the edge. That was all the contact he required to use his synaesthesia. He commanded the fan to perform an emergency stop. The motor died, the blade rapidly slowing down.
Dev breathed a sigh of relief.
Then Mason’s grip gave way and his full weight fell on to Dev. There was no way Dev could support them both. He dropped on to the blade – now thankfully rotating more slowly – and their combined weight sheared the supporting bolts.
Dev, Mason and the entire fan fell through the ceiling and into the collider tunnel below.
Pain jolted through Dev as they landed on a huge blue pipe running down the centre of the tunnel. He bounced off the pipe and crashed to the floor, parts of the broken fan motor strewn all around him. For a moment he lay face down on the cold concrete floor . . . and groaned.
“Dev? Are you alive?” hissed Mason.
Dev’s pain left him with little doubt that he was, indeed, alive. He pushed the fan off him and slowly stood up. They were in a well-lit long tunnel that gently curved in both directions. The blue pipe he had rebounded off was about the same width as the airconditioning tube, and it ran the entire length, in the middle of the floor, with alternating coloured sections of blue and silver.
Dev “remembered” the tube was the collider itself, and – because yellow warning lights were flashing and a klaxon was whooping – another of Professor Liu’s memories surfaced, telling Dev that the alarms meant the accelerator was powering up, and particles were already rushing in a beam around the tunnel thanks to powerful magnets.
A collision was about to take place.
Professor Liu hadn’t supplied any additional information about how bad it would be for them to be in the tunnel during a collision, but as the experiments were designed to rip atoms apart to see inside them, Dev concluded that it must be bad.
He pulled himself to his feet, then realized he was using the accelerator pipe to do so. He immediately let go, wondering what would happen if he linked his synaesthesia to a particle accelerator. Again, it probably wasn’t a sensible thing to do.
Mason was already on his feet and looking around with wide eyes. “Every time I’m in a tunnel with you something bad always seems to happen.” The memories of being trapped in a vacuum tunnel were still very fresh in both their minds.
“This way,” said Dev. “I remember it’s close by.”
Mason hurried after him. “Do you realize how weird that sounds?”
“Lately, weird seems to be the default setting of my life.”
They didn’t have to jog very far to reach the part of the collider that looked familiar to Dev. A triangular warning sign was etched in the side of the tube, featuring the World Consortium logo. The scientists here assumed the engineers had placed the symbol here, and the engineers ignored it, thinking the scientists needed it to calibrate their experiments. Like a lot of Consortium affairs, Professor Liu’s “time capsule” was hidden in plain sight.
If being one hundred metres below the earth in a particle collider could be considered “plain”.
The bottom of the arrow pointed straight down, signposting exactly where Professor Liu had stowed it: behind a metal panel.
A countdown in French began over the public address system. Dev pressed against the indicated panel. It didn’t budge. He pressed harder, and still the panel remained where it was. That was when he noticed it had been screwed into place. Professor Liu’s memory o
f it didn’t include screws. Dev guessed the panel may have fallen away over the years, only to be screwed into place by a helpful technician.
“I need a screwdriver.”
Mason patted his pockets. “I don’t have one. I must have left it in my other jacket,” he said sarcastically. “Typical. We have access to the coolest gadgets in the world, but then we really just need a screwdriver, and we don’t have one.”
With a grunt of annoyance, he pushed Dev aside and began kicking the panel. It buckled, but held. He continued, his face twisting into an angry snarl as he took out his frustrations against the metal.
The countdown continued. Dev regretted not paying any attention during French lessons, as he had no idea how long they had left. Then he remembered the translator still in his pocket. Mason had lost his in Hong Kong, while Dev had taken it out to save the fading battery. He inserted it into his ear, activated it – and his heart sank, despite the flawed translation:
“Two minutes to baguette. . .”
BAM! The countdown was continuing, but at least Mason had finally booted the metal panel off. There was a hollow recess behind it, perfectly formed to hold the red case.
“Bingo!” said Dev, sliding the case out. There were no visible clasps or hinges, just a narrow line around the edge indicating where it opened. It felt empty too, but he had no time to ponder. “Got it! Now let’s get out of here!”
They both stood, but then froze as a nearby door in the side of the tunnel opened. Three armed troops, clad in matt-black armour and fearsome masks that covered their faces and mouths, ran into the tunnel and swept their rifles around – and quickly found their two targets.
Meanwhile, the countdown continued unabated. Dev realized that the troops had not announced their arrival to the scientists in the control room on the surface, and his looping of the cameras would leave the scientists unaware of what was happening below.
Sergeant Wade emerged from the open door. “Dev. Put the case down and give yourselves up. I must bring you in. For your own sake.”
“We’ve been set up,” replied Dev, glancing around for any chance to escape. The only available direction was further down the tunnel. It would hardly be a thrilling chase, and all Wade had to do was stay where she was, since they would eventually run in a circle.
“Are you saying you didn’t release the Collector?”
Dev hesitated. “No! We were there . . . but Kardach and Christen Sandberg broke in and freed him. And you know about Kardach, don’t you? You should. He’s just like me. Another secret in the Inventory that Charles decided to keep to himself?”
Anguish crossed Wade’s face. “You’ve got it wrong, Dev.”
“So he wasn’t created as my replacement?”
“He was,” Wade admitted. “But your uncle created him under direct orders of the Consortium. He was against it. He felt that you were perfect. They wanted to push the experiment further, to cut out the emotions that make you. . .”
Dev found the word she was floundering upon: “Human?”
“Your uncle won the argument, and the project was suspended. Kardach was placed in suspended animation, deep storage for the living. Until he was taken from the Red Zone, just like everything else in there. Shadow Helix’s facilities spurred his growth to make him mature and develop, even beyond your abilities. You see, Dev, Charles was on your side. It was Double Helix who took an abandoned project and brought it to life.”
The story rang true, but Dev didn’t know what to believe. “But I heard you. I heard what you both said about not trusting me.” Either the sergeant was a terrific actor, or the confusion on her face was genuine. “You were driving my uncle in the Jeep?” he prompted.
“No . . . that’s what spurred you to run away? We were talking about the Collector. Your uncle was trusting him too much, showing him Inventory files so that he could help work out what Double Helix was after. That’s how they knew where Professor Liu was; your uncle had inadvertently given them everything they needed.” She pointed to the case. “Except this.”
Dev wanted to believe her. More than anything, he wanted to believe his uncle was prone to human mistakes too. The raid on the Inventory had been successful in terms of stealing artefacts, but Shadow Helix had been unable to prise information from Eema’s systems. It had taken his uncle’s foolishness to give them that.
“That means the Collector intended to be captured all along,” Dev said in a low voice. Double Helix really had planned ahead.
“You can see how bad this looks?” said Wade. “You steal the Avro. You’re there when one of the most notorious criminals in history is sprung from jail. Then you go on the run, help destroy Hong Kong, and then break in here.”
“Are you crazy?” snapped Mason. “We’ve been set up; we’ve just said so!”
“If that is all true, then what about Lottie?”
“You know where she is?” said Dev with relief.
Wade’s brow furrowed. “Of course. She’s with Shadow Helix.” Her confusion grew when Dev and Mason exchanged worried looks. “But you knew that?”
“She’s a hostage!”
Wade shook her head in disbelief. “Dev, we intercepted radio communications saying she had switched sides voluntarily. Just like you both had.”
“No! That’s what they want you to think. If the World Consortium is busy chasing us, they can do what they’re planning without interference. Why else would they send such a message, knowing you would intercept it?” He saw the indecision on Wade’s face. Dev’s knuckles went white as he gripped the case. “They want this. That’s why they have her – they expect a trade.”
“If that were true . . . you know we can’t risk such an exchange. There is no way we can allow Double Helix to get his hands on that. We’ll put it somewhere safe.”
“Like the Inventory? He’s already raided it once. And then what do we do about Lot? Just forget her? Put her into ‘deep storage’?” His words were heavy with sarcasm. “Do you know what’s in the cases?” Wade shook her head.
Dev and Mason took a step backwards, prompting the four troopers to adjust the aim of their rifles.
“I want to believe you, Dev. But you must understand, from where I’m standing, it looks as if you’ve got yourselves involved with the wrong side. Do the right thing now.”
Dev sighed and placed the case gently on the ground. Mason looked at him in alarm.
“Mate, what’re you doing? That’s the only way we’re gonna be able to get Lot back!”
Dev leaned on the collider tunnel with both hands spread out in surrender. He met Mason’s gaze. “I’m doing the right thing. Like I always do.”
The colours that flashed before Dev’s eyes would blind anybody, but in his mind’s eye there were no retinas or delicate eyeballs to sear. Instead the entire, monstrous LHC came to life in a string of ultra-complex machinery that stretched all around, below and above him – from the collider itself to the sensors to the massive computer systems controlling it all. In the blink of an eye he saw that there were other tunnels, branching off into smaller loops – he was tracing the electronic systems of the largest single machine in the world. It gave him an instant migraine. It reminded him of the one time he had tried to use his synaesthesia on the internet and quickly disconnected himself, fearing that his head would explode.
Except this time he wasn’t going to disconnect. He was going to turn the collider into a weapon. Fortunately, Professor Liu’s memories did include handy details on how the LHC worked. All it took was for Dev to affect a few of the super-magnets that accelerated atomic particles around the tunnel, altering their power just a little as the countdown reached zero.
The protons were slipped into the collider in opposite directions, travelling a shade slower than the speed of light as they followed a beam no more than a millimetre wide. Because the protons were so small, millions of them would pass head-to-head without ever crashing into one another. Powerful magnets reduced the beam’s width, forcing the pro
tons to collide and unleash colossal amounts of energy. The very same magnets Dev had tampered with. He just hoped he’d affected them by the precise amount needed.
He grabbed Mason around the collar with both hands and pulled him to the floor—
—at the exact moment billions of protons deflected from the magnets, just like a snooker ball off a cushion, and rebounded through the collider wall. Even at high speeds, a single proton wouldn’t do too much damage – it would be like being pricked by a pin.
But a billion of them. They punctured through the side of the collider in an intense stream of light that sprayed across the gap between the troopers and Dev. The energy stream tore across the concrete walls, blasting them apart.
The Troopers threw themselves backwards to avoid the stream – piling on top of Wade and knocking the breath out of her.
Seconds later the scientists in the control room on the surface reacted to the barrage of danger alarms and shut the collider down. The beam instantly stopped . . . and there was no sign of Dev, Mason or the case.
Charles Parker entered a room he seldom visited. The Inventory was peppered with many such locations, but this particular place gave him no joy to be in.
It was a spherical chamber built with just one purpose in mind: the control of Inventory assets.
“Eema, call up file alpha-four-six-eight.”
Pictures of Dev appeared on the screens, taken from birth through to just a few months ago. Every aspect of his life, from minor colds through to his especially crafted abilities, appeared in finely detailed reports. Dev was never mentioned by name, just by the cold term biological asset, which was given to any of the Inventory’s artificially created living creatures.
Charles read through it, but his gaze kept sliding to the pictures of Dev, and his heart sank. He had always attempted to keep a distance between his own feelings and his experiments. It something that he had failed to do with the Collector, which was why he had trusted him. Charles wanted – needed – to believe that their connection, their history, meant something.
