Qasid was half a kilometre away, watching through binoculars from a high rooftop. Adam felt his nervous anticipation, reliving the terrorist’s growing excitement as he took phone calls from spotters along the route.
‘This is Azim, they’ve just passed me . . .’
‘Salim here – they just turned right at the junction, like you said they would.’
‘It’s Imran, they’re coming up to me now . . .’
The truck deliberately dropped to a crawl, backing the convoy up behind it on the busy street. According to Gray’s information, Sandra Easton would be in the middle car, SUVs driven by undercover agents ahead and behind.
He shifted his gaze back and forth between the Toyota and the approaching vehicles, the movement shorter each time. Less than a hundred metres to go.
Fifty. ‘Get ready, get ready . . .’ he whispered into his phone’s headset. The operation could not be trusted to radio control. There was a man in the car holding a switch directly wired to the detonators. The first SUV passed the waiting Toyota. ‘Here she comes . . . now!’
He held his breath. Time seemed to freeze, for a moment nothing happening—
Then the Toyota and the car beside it vanished in a cloud of dust.
It took over a second for the sound of the explosion to reach Qasid. When it did, it was shockingly loud, a single sharp basso crack that shook the building beneath him. Other noises followed: shattering glass, splintering concrete, the thunderous echoes of the detonation.
Adam felt Qasid’s surge of exultation overpower his own horror at the sight. The memories kept coming, even though he no longer wanted them. The terrorist looked back through the binoculars. Nothing was visible except swirling dust and smoke.
Then shapes began to resolve.
Mangled wreckage. Shredded bodies. Rubble and debris surrounding a crater at the roadside, flames gouting from a severed gas main. More sounds reached him – distant screams of panic and pain. Those people on the street who had not been cut down by the blast started to flee.
There was nothing left of the Toyota, and the trailing SUV was barely recognisable as a vehicle. The leading 4x4, which had been moving away from the bomb, lay on its side, ripped open, its occupants spilled out like sardines from a can. The Secretary of State’s car had been reduced to burning fragments.
As had everyone inside.
We did it!
‘No,’ gasped Adam, reeling. He couldn’t stop the flood of images from Qasid’s mind.
He had been responsible. He had given the information to al-Qaeda. He had betrayed his country.
The more he tried to deny it, the stronger the memories became, taunting him. It was him. The face, the voice of the man Qasid had met – they were his.
He was a traitor.
‘No!’ It was a cry of pure anguish.
Panic rose in him. Conflicting thoughts warred in his mind – a desperate urge to escape, to run from the punishment that awaited if the truth was discovered versus the need to confess to what he had done. He had to turn himself in. He was a security risk, an al-Qaeda sympathiser.
A traitor.
He looked around frantically. The exit—
I have to run.
His thought, or Qasid’s? He didn’t know. This is my only chance, I have to get out of here before they catch me . . .
The door opened. He jumped in alarm. It was Bianca, having returned the PERSONA equipment to the lab. She held something in one hand. The Englishwoman immediately picked up on his fear. ‘Are you okay?’
She’s the only other person who knows the truth.
Qasid. It had to be. It couldn’t be his own mind regarding as a threat the woman who had done nothing but try to help him. It couldn’t!
‘Yeah, yeah, I’m – I’m fine,’ he gasped.
‘No you’re not,’ she replied, anxious. She gestured towards the couch. ‘Look, sit down.’
‘No, I’m okay.’ He opened the panel concealing the wardrobe. There was a mirror on its back. He looked into it, not even sure who he was going to see staring back. His face, or Qasid’s?
It was his own, but wide-eyed, brow beaded with sweat. ‘Really, you don’t look good,’ said Bianca.
He whirled. ‘Of course I don’t look good! I’ve just found out that I’m – I’m a traitor!’
‘I don’t believe it,’ she insisted. ‘I can’t! There’s got to be some other explanation.’
‘There isn’t,’ he said, pacing again. ‘I remember – Qasid remembers. We met in Islamabad, three times. I gave him a flash drive with all the security details for Sandra Easton’s visit. And they were genuine.’
Why am I telling her this? She already knows too much! I’ll have to elimin—
He tried to crush the thought. But it wouldn’t die, writhing and squirming under his mental boot heel. Growing stronger. Fear roiled through his body. What if he couldn’t resist?
‘But that doesn’t make sense,’ she protested. He saw that the object she was holding was a jet injector. ‘If you were really a traitor, why would you join the Persona Project? The entire thing is about finding out people’s deepest secrets!’
‘To get rid of the guilt. That’s why I wanted my memory erased. It’s the only explanation.’
‘No, I don’t accept that.’ Bianca moved closer. ‘It doesn’t fit with your personality.’
‘I don’t have a personality!’ he said with a desperate near-laugh. ‘You said so yourself!’
‘I was wrong. I know you better than that now.’
Adam pulled away. ‘You don’t know me at all. How can you? I don’t know me. But now I know what I’ve done. I’ve got to—’
He broke off abruptly. He had been about to say that he had to turn himself in, but another voice in his mind drowned out the words. I’ve got to get out of here, before they catch me . . .
‘What is it?’ she asked.
Adam said nothing, staring at her. She’s the only person who knows the truth. The only person who can tell the Americans what I did.
The only person who can stop me.
He stepped towards her. Panic faded, replaced by a cold resolution. I have to get out of here. She’s the only witness.
She has to be eliminated.
Images of the other people Qasid had killed flashed through his thoughts. Shot, stabbed, burned, strangled . . . Killing is easy. All you need is the will.
‘Adam?’ He saw the uncertainty in Bianca’s eyes change to concern. It’s the only way. Do it.
Another step. She backed away, confused – and starting to feel fear. He had seen it before, many times; the realisation that death was approaching . . . and there was nothing they could do to stop it.
Do it. Kill her! I have to get away.
‘Bianca, I—’ Again, the words froze before they could reach the air.
Kill her! Qasid’s voice grew ever louder, drowning out his own thoughts. The more he struggled against it, the more insistent and deafening it became. I have to escape! Kill her! Kill her!
‘Adam!’ Bianca gasped as he grabbed her arm. She tried to twist away, but his grip was too strong. He pushed her against the wall. ‘Adam, no! What are you—’
Kill her!
His other hand took hold, tightened . . .
Around the injector.
He tore it from her, jammed it against his neck – and pulled the trigger.
No! I have to escape, I need to . . .
Qasid’s voice faded. Adam reeled back, collapsing on the couch as the Neutharsine took hold. His heart raced, every breath as loud as a hurricane. Mind churning, he slumped, struggling to regain control.
‘Adam!’ Bianca’s voice seemed to come from a great distance. But when he forced his eyes open, she was right beside him. ‘Oh my God, are you okay? Can you hear me?’
He slowed his breathing. ‘I’m . . . I’m okay,’ he croaked.
She helped him sit up. ‘What happened?’
‘Qasid. It was Qasid, his persona. It – it a
lmost took over.’
‘But I thought that was impossible!’
‘Apparently not.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Are you all right? Did I hurt you?’
She glanced at her arm. ‘No, I’m okay. You scared me, though.’
‘I scared myself,’ he admitted. ‘What did you see?’
‘I’m not sure. It was like – like there was someone else behind your face, is the only way I can describe it. Your eyes went so . . .’ She shuddered. ‘Cold.’
The injector was still in his hand. He let it drop on to the couch. ‘It’s a good thing you brought this. I don’t know what I would have . . .’ He trailed off, partly so as not to disturb her any further.
And partly to stop himself from thinking about what he had almost done.
Would he have done it? Would he actually have killed her? He didn’t know. That was in some ways the most frightening thing of all.
She knelt before him, holding his hand. ‘Jesus. You’re shaking. Do you need anything?’
‘No, I’m okay. But thank you.’
‘So what happened? How could Qasid’s persona take over?’
‘Maybe because I was panicking? It was like the feedback loop with Vanwall’s vertigo, but worse, much worse. I was losing it – and that gave him an opening.’
‘What did . . . he want?’
‘To escape – to get out of here before he was caught. Before I was caught.’ He gave her a look of anguish. ‘Bianca, I’ve got to turn myself in. I betrayed my country.’
‘No, I still can’t believe it. It doesn’t fit.’ She leaned back on her haunches, still holding his hand. ‘The Persona Project is so secret, even other parts of STS don’t know about it. So how could you have known? Nobody here had ever met you before you joined.’
‘If I had access to the Secretary’s security details, I would have had access to other classified information.’
‘So, what, you planned all along to give the information to al-Qaeda, and then join Persona to wipe your guilt?’
‘Something like that. It has to be.’
‘But if you knew you were going to feel that guilty, why would you do it in the first place? Was Qasid blackmailing you?’
‘No. I approached them.’
‘Okay, so . . . what did Qasid make of you? Did he think you were conflicted about handing over the files?’
Adam thought for a moment. Qasid’s memories of the encounters remained in his own mind, but now stripped of feelings. ‘No. I seemed nervous, I guess, the first time I met him, but the other two times I was . . .’ He paused, the image incongruous. ‘Businesslike.’
‘That doesn’t sound like you were racked with guilt, then.’
‘But it’s the only explanation.’
‘No, it isn’t. Maybe you were doing your job – as a spy.’
‘But I gave Qasid the damn details!’ he cried, pulling his hand from hers. ‘I took fifty thousand dollars of blood money in exchange for the information. And they used it! They planned an attack on the Secretary of State – and it succeeded! They killed her, and over a hundred other people. Qasid watched it happen—’ He stopped, realising with shock that there was something familiar about the scene.
Not from television, or a photograph. He had been there, seen the buildings and people and smoke around him …
‘The dream,’ he said, as the answer came to him. ‘The dream I always have – that’s where it was. The bombing in Islamabad. I was there, I was right there after it happened!’
Bianca was confused. ‘But the dream always ends with you seeing yourself lying in the street. How is that possible?’
‘I don’t know. But I was there, I’m certain of it. It doesn’t change anything, though. I’m still guilty of treason.’
‘No,’ said Bianca, more insistently. ‘There’s got to be another answer.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘Maybe it’s a cover-up. The mission went horribly wrong, so someone wanted to erase the memory of the only person who knew what really happened. They might have—’
A knock on the door. ‘It’s Tony.’
‘Don’t say anything,’ Bianca told Adam quietly, before raising her voice. ‘Come in.’
Tony entered. He half smiled at the sight of Bianca kneeling before Adam. ‘Remember those fraternisation rules, guys,’ he said. The smile disappeared as he took in their tense expressions. ‘What is it?’
‘Adam had a bad reaction,’ said Bianca, before Adam could reply. She stood. ‘Something went wrong with the transfer. I had to give him a shot of Neutharsine to clear Qasid’s persona.’ She picked up the injector.
‘Are you okay?’ Tony asked, concerned. ‘What kind of reaction did you have?’
Again, Bianca spoke first. ‘It was almost like . . . like a panic attack, I suppose. After what you told me about what happened to you, I was worried, so I gave him the injection. He’s back to normal now, thank God.’
‘That’s a relief. Did you get anything from Qasid’s persona? Did he really know you?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Adam said quietly. ‘Everything was . . . confused.’
‘What went wrong with the transfer? Is Qasid okay? It’ll be kinda hard to cover all this up if our prisoner dies because of it.’
‘He’s fine,’ said Bianca. ‘I don’t know what went wrong, though. Maybe I miscalculated the drug dose.’
‘You’re damn lucky things didn’t turn out worse, then,’ Tony said sternly. ‘I’ve been into the system and made sure everything looks to be in order, but like I said, it won’t stand up to higher-level scrutiny. This needs to end right here.’
‘I think that’s a very good idea.’
‘What about you, Adam?’
Adam said nothing for a moment, then nodded. ‘Yeah.’
‘Good. Let’s hope this doesn’t come back to bite us all in the ass.’ Tony checked his watch, suppressing a yawn. ‘Okay. It’s been a hell of a long day. Once I’ve wrapped everything up, I’m going to go home and get a few hours’ sleep, and I’d advise you both to do the same before it starts all over.’
‘You’re going to imprint Adam with al-Rais’s persona again?’ Bianca asked. ‘After what just happened to him?’
‘Well, unless you want to go explain to Martin and Harper that your unauthorised transfer went bad, we don’t have much choice. All right, I’ll see you later.’ He turned to leave.
‘Tony?’ said Bianca, stopping him. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘What?’
‘When I got the PERSONA gear from the lab, I saw a disk with your name on it. Did you have your persona recorded?’
‘Yeah, not long after I joined the project.’
‘Before you had the surgical implants?’
‘Yes. They wanted it as a backup, for comparison if there were any after-effects from the procedure, but they never used it. Why did you want to know?’
She shrugged. ‘Just curious. I wondered why you had a disk and Adam didn’t.’
‘No idea. I guess Roger and Kiddrick felt confident enough second time around not to need one.’
‘I guess. Okay, see you later.’
‘What was that about?’ Adam asked after Tony left.
‘I was just thinking . . . what if there is a disk with your persona on it, from before you had your memory wiped? If we imprinted you with that, then you’d know for sure what happened in Pakistan.’
‘Maybe, but there isn’t a disk like that.’
‘Well, it’s not something they’re going to leave lying around the office, is it? Especially now that you’ve started trying to find out more about your past.’
‘So where would they keep it?’
Bianca glanced towards the Bullpen. ‘I think there’s a way we can find out.’
38
Safe Keeping
When Levon arrived at his workstation, he was surprised to find two people waiting.
‘Wow, you guys look terrible,’ he told Adam and Bianca as he sat. ‘You been here all night?’
&nb
sp; ‘Afraid so,’ said Bianca. ‘But then, we had a lot to cover with interrogating al-Rais.’
‘Yeah, I guess you’re not going to get everything out of the world’s most wanted terrorist in time for Letterman. Still, pulling an overnighter’s hard work. Darleen hates it when I do ’em.’
‘Darleen?’
‘My wife.’ He saw Bianca’s look of surprise, and raised an eyebrow over his thick glasses. ‘Oh, what? Just ’cause I’m a big fat nerd, I can’t find true love? I got my moves.’
‘No, that’s not what I was thinking at all!’ she lied. ‘It’s just that you never mentioned her before.’
‘You never asked. You want to see her picture? I got a whole bunch on my phone.’
‘No, that’s okay, thanks. But there was something we wanted to ask you.’
‘Yeah? What is it?’
Adam leaned closer to him, dropping his voice. ‘Tony said that you know how to bypass the system’s security.’
Levon shrank into his chair, eyes darting furtively. ‘I don’t know why he’d tell you that. What is this, some sort of loyalty check?’
‘Yes, I’m actually Harper’s mole,’ said Bianca sarcastically.
Adam remained serious. ‘This is off the record, Levon. In fact, it’s off the books. Can you do it?’
The bald man was still reluctant to answer. ‘Why would you want to know?’
‘Because I need you to find something for me – without Tony or Martin or anyone else knowing about it.’
‘Seriously?’ Levon glanced at the nearby workstations to make sure nobody was eavesdropping. ‘What kind of thing?’
‘I need to know if I had my persona recorded when I first joined the project. And if I did, then I also need to know what happened to the disk containing it.’
He was startled by the request. ‘For real? You’re actually asking me to hack into the system?’
‘Yes. And nobody else can know about it. It has to stay completely under the radar.’
The Persona Protocol Page 36
