‘That’s lovely – I miss him too. He has a great mind. I asked him to move here, when we knew that the wall was going up. I wanted to keep working with him. We could have achieved . . . a lot together.’
‘Why didn’t he move?’ Noah asked.
‘Loyalty, duty I suppose – he and his wife were dedicated. She was a virologist too – although not as obsessed as him.’
‘Obsessed is a good word for him. He talks about his wife a lot.’
‘Aisha was very special. Beautiful and gentle. She would nudge him out of the lab and bring him back to the world. They were very lucky to have each other. She understood him . . .’ Neeson’s voice trailed away.
‘You must have known her well too.’
‘Yes, she was in London with him. Her death was very sad.’
‘Death often is. You’ve still managed to work with Khan, despite the shield – I had a look on the WHO portal.’
‘We communicate a little, whatever’s allowed after Bio screens the comms. I’ve been working on an adaptive antibiotic, using case studies from around the world. Khan likes to contribute to the progress of medicine.’
‘Yes, I can tell.’ Noah knew the call was being listened to. What could he say? What would he say if he was alone with Neeson?
‘Speaking of the progress of medicine,’ Neeson continued. ‘I’ve sent you various papers from the Christian Coalition. I think you’ll find them interesting. One is about the effect of prayer on the brain – it thickens and strengthens it.’
‘The Christian Coalition? Jesus, Neese, are you still trying to convert me?’
Neeson laughed. ‘I don’t like the Christian Coalition either – who wants to be lectured about the decline of God in the West? They remind me of my ex-mother-in-law. She was a miserable woman. But they’re the only ones funding neurotheosophy anymore.’
‘Neurotheosophy? Is that a word?’ It was Noah’s turn to laugh.
‘If you read the papers I sent you, you’d know that it’s the study of religious experience through science.’
‘So you’re using science to convert me? And quoting the Christian Coalition – what has our new world come to?’
‘Even extremists have a place.’
‘Yes – on watchlists and in prison.’
‘No, fool. Extremists remind the rest of us about the virtue of moderation. Khan was a great moderate in his youth.’
‘He still is. Have you seen his lab? It’s very well-equipped,’ Noah prompted.
‘Hackman showed me your initial notes – he seems to have acquired the AILA Reina – it was the prototype for Roberta, her grandmother if you will. He should be able to do great things with that technology.’
‘Yes, perhaps.’
‘I hope so. The robotic arm still has unprecedented fine and gross motor skills. The cohesion of intellect and movement makes these artificial intelligence models far superior to any human being.’
‘Surely not superior to you.’
‘I’m an old man, Noah. I find even the easiest experiments difficult now. I use Roberta for everything – I’d train her to light a cigarette for me if I wasn’t worried she’d get addicted.’
‘Is Khan’s AILA as good as yours?’ Noah asked.
‘No, but his will achieve more.’
‘Roberta is two models ahead, what’s holding her back?’ Noah’s tone was casual. If Neeson could lie effortlessly to him, Noah wouldn’t reveal it had shocked him.
‘I am – as I said, I’m an old man, with arthritic fingers and an atrophying brain. Roberta could do much better than me. In fact, when you return, you should come over and get to know her. I hear rumours you want to retire – you could work with her. She’d like you.’
‘I’m flattered and a little alarmed you’re trying to set me up with your robotic lab assistant. I should be back soon – is there anything you want me to bring you from here?’ Noah asked. ‘As long as it’s not horrible like durian.’
Neeson laughed. ‘Thank you, Noah, that’s really kind of you. I never make it over there anymore.’
‘When was the last time you were in Sri Lanka?’
‘Fifteen years ago – just after the Armistice. I came to supervise the GVP – the early years were difficult so I was in and out of the Eastern Alliance a lot.’
‘Did you see Khan?’ Noah gave Neeson another chance.
‘Some. Sri Lanka implemented the GVP very efficiently. They were keen to comply after everything that happened there. We had more push back in other Eastern countries and we needed to refine the vaccine on-site at times, in some cases adding a much stronger memory inhibitor to the mix. That had its own side effects which I had to manage. I was needed elsewhere, not in Sri Lanka.’
‘How much stronger?’ Noah kept his voice even.
‘Strong enough for the Purge to be completed in that zone; for the Faith Inhibitor to do its work and kill the faith centre. The impulse to worship was strong in some places. We hadn’t fully accounted for that. The memory inhibitor wore off eventually. In the majority of cases the side effects weren’t permanently damaging. It was deemed a better solution than others.’
Other solutions involved executing those who challenged the GVP or didn’t respond to the vaccine.
‘I miss lychees – real, fresh lychees from a tree – not genetically engineered in a greenhouse,’ Neeson said. ‘I used to love peeling back the prickly red skin to reveal the translucent flesh underneath. There’s something satisfying about having to work for your food. It heightens the pleasure of that sweetness.’
‘Work for your food? Come on now, you’re shelling fruit, not hunting boar. I’ll bring you back a bag of lychees, as much as they’ll let me carry.’
‘Thank you, Noah, I’d like that. He’s a good man – Khan. A much better man than me.’
‘I’ve met worse than you. See you on the other side, Neese.’ Noah disconnected the phone.
Chapter 30
Noah entered Khan’s private laboratory cautiously. It was dark, the only light coming from equipment blinking like lost satellites in a black and endless universe. He turned on all of the lights. The tables were empty, the computers gone, the refrigerators bound with metal ropes and padlocked. Only Devi remained untouched.
‘Good morning, Dr Williams,’ she said. He found her neutral tone comforting.
‘Noah,’ he corrected automatically. ‘What happened here? Is Dr Khan in yet?’ He looked around for signs of the older man.
‘No, sir.’
‘He should be.’
‘Yes, he should be, but human beings are capricious.’
‘Is Khan capricious?’ Noah asked.
‘No, sir,’ she sounded troubled.
‘No, I didn’t think so. What happened?’ he repeated.
‘Soldiers, sir. They arrived before Dr Khan and took much of the equipment. They said they would come back for me with a technician. I’m too complicated to move.’
He inserted his earpiece.
‘Garner, talk to me.’ There was no reply. He tried again – nothing.
He pulled out his phone, dialled Crawford and waited – no reply. Twice more.
‘I think you should go, sir. They will be back soon – I sense they may harm you.’
‘Your senses are perceptive. Where do you think Khan is, Devi?’
‘I hope he’s late, sir.’
‘I don’t think so. Connect me to my hotel, Kunchar House on Harmers Avenue. The manager seems to live in the lobby.’ Noah knew the call would send up a red flag but he had to find them. ‘Direct the call to my phone if you can.’
‘Of course, sir, doing that for you right now.’
He waited.
‘The lobby phone is disconnected.’
‘Shit.’
‘Sir?’
‘Try another room in the hotel – any room.’ He waited.
‘No response, sir. All lines to the hotel rooms have been disconnected. Lanka Telcom indicates that those numbers should still be
active.’
‘Fuck. Devi – if Khan calls tell him to stay visible. Stay with people, crowded places – in fact, tell him to go to the maternity ward. The rest of the WHO delegation is there, wrapping up.’
‘Wrapping up, sir?’
‘Yes – we’re leaving. Wheels up in eight hours. Tell him to stay with the delegation, I’ll be back for him.’
‘I will, sir, thank you. Are you worried?’
‘I’m always worried.’
Minutes later he was ripping the keys from Vijay’s hands and weaving through the streets of Colombo back to his hotel. He didn’t try to lose the surveillance car – there wasn’t time.
At Jayewardene Avenue he became mired in the gridlock of morning traffic. He swore and hit the steering wheel and then the horn repeatedly, achieving nothing, not even the attention of the cars and street vendors around him. There was no way out. He reversed as much as he could and then slammed the accelerator. Cars noticed him now as he forced a pathway, crushing the front of Vijay’s car with each thrust. He escaped the main road and checked his mirrors for police vehicles as he hurtled through the side streets.
Finally, he came upon the hotel building from the alley behind it. Attached to the gate was an electromagnetic circuit-jacker. He had used units like it before – it could complete the circuit on the boundary trip-wire. Garner and Crawford wouldn’t have known anyone was coming. He pulled out his side-arm and released the safety. His palms were wet. He breathed deeply three times and moved forward.
The back door to the hotel pulsed slowly in the ocean wind. The lock had been prised open. He moved in, checking the kitchen and dining room, his gun sweeping in the arc and grid motion that had become as much a part of his intuition as breathing. He could smell tear gas but not cordite. He moved towards the front door and his footsteps slowed. The lobby was deserted, the manager gone.
He crept up the stairs to Garner’s room. They used hers as the control room; she said Crawford was too untidy. Two screens should have shown three sub-screens each, one for every micro-camera that was hidden around the boundary and the front door. Instead, the screens showed the static of disrupted camera relay.
There would have been a van parked less than fifty metres from the building, just outside the range of the first cameras that watched the road. Inside, someone had hacked into the feed from all six cameras and, when he was ready, he would have signalled to the group leader and then cut the feed simultaneously.
The group leader and his men – he wouldn’t have needed many – would have approached the gate, attached the circuit-jacker and secured the trip-wire.
Crawford and Garner would have seen the static and assumed another overload on their surveillance motherboard. They would have been rebooting the computer, their backs turned to the door, unaware that the trip-wire had been broken and the gate opened. They wouldn’t have had time to even draw their weapons.
Their screens were all in place but the hard drives gone. All of their research, papers, files, memory sticks – all gone. Noah started running, checking the remaining rooms, looking for signs of struggle, looking for blood, for bodies. There was nothing.
‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ he whispered under his breath. ‘Where are you?’ The building was clean. ‘Garner! Crawford! Answer me goddamn it!’ He shouted, his voice hoarse and, for the first time in his life, unrecognisable to him.
His heart pounded hard against his rib cage. He was pouring with sweat in the thick air, but he felt encased in ice.
‘Where are you?’ he tried to say again, but his tongue was heavy, like he was having an allergic reaction and he couldn’t form the words. He was starting to panic. He hadn’t done that for a long time, not since a doctor gave him an unthinkable verdict.
He ran back down the stairs and out into the garden. He was almost at the back gate when he saw the well in the corner, hidden behind a lattice of thick ferns. He bolted towards it, noticing the crushed anthuriums on the path, the drag marks on the wet earth, and finally the flecks of dark blood staining the leaves of the hibiscus tree, its twisted branches hugging the stone base of the well and then rising like a gentle canopy over it. The opening was covered by a rusted metal plate. There were graze marks on the stone around it.
‘Please, God, please, God,’ he whispered.
He pushed against it. It groaned but didn’t move. He shoved his gun into his belt and pushed against the plate with both hands. He inhaled the ferrous smell of blood, and something else, something acrid. As the plate shifted, his eyes began to sting and tear. Wisps of grey fumes rose from the well. He pulled back, coughing.
‘Garner – talk to me!’ he shouted.
He stretched his shirt sleeve over one hand and covered his mouth, grabbing his torch from a trouser pocket with the other. He took a breath in and leaned forward again. His eyes blurred but followed the light down to the bottom of the well. He saw a bloodied handprint on the wall. And another, reaching up towards the sky. They were trying to climb up.
‘I’m here. I’m here, guys. Hang on.’ He needed rope. He needed help.
Grey smoke emanated from the stone, as if a fire burned deep within it. He fell back and coughed, doubled over, hands on his knees. The mask. He always carried a mask. He pulled it from his side pocket and covered his mouth, forcing his face into the fumes once more, directing the torch beam to the base this time.
He saw Crawford first – partially submerged under the acid that was dissolving him. Then he saw Garner. They were lying together, their bodies entwined and mingled, broken and contorted. Pieces of flesh falling off them and floating to the surface, pieces of bone jutting out towards his light. The fluid came up to their mid-torso and they were sinking deeper into it as it ate through them. Garner was slumped in what remained of Crawford’s embrace, her head down against her chest.
Crawford’s face was turned up to the opening, his eyes dead to the sunlight that filtered through the hibiscus branches above.
Noah staggered blindly, his fingers missing the stone support of the well. He collapsed to the ground on his hands and knees, vomiting. He couldn’t breathe or see clearly. It could have been the acid or the tears. He pulled himself a few paces down the path. By the time he heard the footsteps it was too late. He reached for his gun but a frighteningly merciful darkness fell before he could touch its cold, familiar metal.
Chapter 31
Noah woke up but kept his eyes closed, his head limp. If they wanted to kill him, he’d be dead by now. He listened to the muted conversation in the corner. It was in English. He caught words: West, agent, Khan.
He took a quick inventory of his injuries. His hands were cuffed behind his back but there was no significant pain. He couldn’t move his arms but he could tell nothing was broken. That pain was different. His head hurt, his stitches were intact and his rib cage hadn’t been touched yet. He exhaled, relieved. His right eye was swollen and obscured, the lid drooping like a shade. He would need to protect his left side.
He heard footsteps approach him from behind. He tensed. Cold water hit him. He pulled against the restraints, flinching as they cut his wrists. He rocked on the chair and then stopped, splaying his unfettered legs on the grey cement floor. He blinked hard, the light in his face blinded him. He dropped his head and then raised it again, gradually, allowing his eyes to focus. The shapes on the edge of the room formed people.
He recognised one – Rajasuriya. He smelled sweat, his own, the president’s, the soldiers’ around him. Rajasuriya walked towards him, the soldiers forming a protective barrier. Noah smiled. He was tied to a chair, bruised and battered. They were heavily armed.
‘As you would have realised, Noah, you are in an impromptu interrogation room. I know you’ll be comfortable here, you’ve seen hundreds of them before. Ours isn’t as well-equipped as yours but it will do for now. Look at me when I’m talking to you.’
Noah raised his head higher, ignoring the throbbing. The room was simple: sparse, no windows – just lights, c
hairs and appliances.
‘I don’t usually participate in these kinds of things.’ The president lifted the golden trim of his white sarong up, away from the light red water that pooled at his feet.
Noah wasn’t bleeding. Whose pain had been washed away before him? Where was he – and where was Khan?
‘But I’m here because you’re special. I like you, Noah. You’re smart, dedicated and focused. I wish I had more people like you. In fact, if you weren’t so dedicated, I’d recruit you, but we both know you’d never turn. You might spend years pretending to be on my side, and then, when I least expected it, after I’d invited you into my home, my hearth, my family weddings and funerals, what would you do?’
‘I’d slit your throat and then wipe the blade on your fancy white shirt, not mine,’ Noah replied. It hurt to talk but it felt good.
‘Yes, because you think you’re so much better than me. You all –’ he motioned expansively to the ‘all’ of the West, ‘think you’re so much better than us. But I think we’re better because we’re more honest about who we are. We’re more comfortable with it. We understand the sacrifices that are made by our own people –’
‘You mean the sacrifices you make of your people,’ Noah interrupted. He shifted in his chair and relaxed his body into the shackles. He loosened up his arms behind him. If he wanted to he could stand up but there was nowhere to go.
‘Please, it’s the same thing. Great leaders must be willing to sacrifice their own people as well as those who attack their people, in order to secure the nation. Every government that ever sent other people’s children to war made that decision. You remember what Jefferson said: the tree of liberty must be refreshed.’
‘I’m not talking about war – I’m talking about those graves. They were new.’
‘They are indeed. But before you judge me again, please do remember that most of our best weapons were developed and delivered to us from your side of the wall.’
Sahara was right, they had protected Rajasuriya. They played their part in his crimes. He was their Frankenstein’s monster. Sahara – he hoped she was safe.
The Barrier Page 23
