‘Don’t put down the scalpel, you’ll still need it – but you’re going to have to use your other hand to open the incision. There’s a wire coming out of the top of the pack – the earwig’s power line and antenna. Use the scalpel to cut it.’
‘Oh God, oh my God . . .’ Bianca whispered as she moved her quivering left hand to the gory opening. Blood oozed out as she touched it. She probed deeper, feeling the curved edge of the implant against her fingertips. ‘I’ve found the power pack – but I can’t feel the wire.’ Desperation rose as she kept searching without result. Another bloody rivulet rushed down Adam’s back. ‘Oh God, I can’t find it!’
‘Stay calm,’ Adam rasped, muscles and tendons drawn tight. ‘It’s there. Right at the top. Just keep feeling . . .’
Her right hand was shaking so much she almost dropped the scalpel. She clamped her hand tightly around its handle, then slid her fingertips deeper into the incision. Still nothing but the smooth plastic curve of the power pack and the awful warm softness under his skin – then suddenly she felt something else that did not belong. It was much thinner than she had expected, more like a hair drawn taut than an electrical wire. ‘I’ve got it!’
‘Okay,’ said Adam. ‘Now put the scalpel blade under it, and pull outwards.’
She did so. There was resistance, the edges of the cut rising upwards as the wire pulled against them – then with an almost musical tink it broke. Bianca gasped. ‘It’s gone!’
Adam’s own relief was less vocal, but just as heartfelt. ‘Okay,’ he said, exhaling sharply. ‘There’s some gauze in the kit. Put a piece over the cut, then stick a bandage over it.’
‘What about cleaning it?’
‘No time. We need to get out of here.’ As she covered the wound, he rummaged in the bag, producing something the size of a smartphone.
‘What’s that?’ Bianca asked.
‘Something that would have every auto manufacturer in the world suing STS if they ever found out about it.’ He tapped at the buttons on the device’s face. A line of tiny LEDs along the top of the gadget flickered – then the garage echoed with the chirps of dozens of remote locking systems, indicators flashing.
Bianca looked up from her nursing work in amazement. ‘How did you do that?’
‘It’s an override – it’s got the lock and alarm codes for just about every car on the market.’ He pocketed the remote. ‘Are you done?’
She finished pressing the bandage into place. ‘Yes. Does it hurt?’
‘Yeah, but there isn’t time to worry about it. Get the gear, we need to find a car.’ He stood, pulling his clothing back into place as he turned to survey the garage. ‘Something fast, but not too showy . . .’ He managed a smile. ‘There we go.’
Bianca collected the PERSONA, then turned to see what he was looking at. Not knowing anything about American automobiles, all she could tell was that the vehicle in question was some sort of glossy black muscle car. ‘Is that good?’
‘Hell yes, it’s good,’ Adam replied. ‘And I guess I just found out something else about myself.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I’m a Ford man.’ Suppressing a wince at the pain in his lower back, he picked up the other case and the bag and hurried down the row to the waiting Mustang.
Bianca followed. ‘I used to have a Ford Ka. One-point-two litre. I’m guessing this is a bit more powerful.’
‘Just a bit. Get in.’ He opened the driver’s door, dropping the case on to the back seat, then took out the override and climbed inside.
She saw his face twist with pain as he sat, putting pressure on the wound. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’
‘I’ll live. Assuming we actually get out of this alive.’ He flipped the remote around in his hand, thumbing open a panel in its base. ‘Okay, let’s see. Ford, Ford . . .’ He turned a small knurled wheel, then pushed it. A sliver of metal sprang out of the remote with a click. He slid it into the ignition slot and turned it. The Mustang’s five-litre V8 started up with a rumble that echoed through the garage. ‘All right!’
‘That’s the happiest I’ve seen you since we ran out of that pub,’ Bianca said, almost teasing.
‘Apparently I like my wheels. You ready?’ She nodded, and he pulled out of the space, turning back towards the ramp. He accelerated up it, the exhaust note booming in his wake.
‘There!’ said Morgan, pointing at the screens. A dark shape emerged from the bowels of the office building the drone was observing. ‘Someone’s leaving. Kyle, follow it.’
‘We don’t have his tracker,’ said Kyle. ‘It could just be some dude going home early.’
‘He went in there to disable the tracker. We can’t risk losing them.’ He glanced at the map. Baxter and his men had been released, the three STS Suburbans now racing with the police vehicles towards Adam’s last known location – but they were still two blocks distant.
‘It could be a decoy,’ Tony cautioned. ‘They might be splitting up.’
Morgan shook his head. ‘Adam somehow persuaded Dr Childs to help him do this, even though she must have known the consequences. They’ll stick together.’ He looked back at the view from the UAV’s camera. ‘Kyle, why isn’t the auto-tracking on that car yet? And zoom in closer – we can’t even tell the model from this height!’
‘There’s, uh, some sort of glitch in the system,’ Kyle replied unconvincingly. ‘I can’t get a lock on it – uh-oh.’ The image rocked as the drone slewed around. The black car swept off the edge of the screen. ‘Must be turbulence or something! A jetstream, maybe.’
‘Over Washington?’ spluttered Kiddrick.
‘Air’s a weird thing, brah.’ He waggled the controls, putting the UAV into a spin.
‘I see we do need some more security guys in here,’ growled Morgan. ‘Hamilton, take over from him. Kyle—’
‘I know, I know,’ said Kyle, standing. ‘I’m busted.’
‘Just stand over there and wait for the SPOs. Hamilton! Where’s that car?’
Kyle’s replacement took over the controls, stabilising the drone. The office building came back into view – but there was no sign of the target vehicle. ‘I can’t see it, sir.’
‘Search wider. We’ve got to find it.’
‘I don’t even know which way it was heading, sir. It could have gone in any direction from the nearest intersection.’
‘We can’t exactly tell Metro to put out an APB on “a black car”,’ said Tony. The camera panned across another block – revealing at least half a dozen vehicles that would fit the description.
Morgan simmered, glaring at the wall screens. ‘Okay. Tell them to search that building, just in case they’re still inside. It’s a long shot, but we have to check. Then get MPD to set up roadblocks – ten-block radius.’
Tony looked at the capital’s expansive grid on the map. ‘That’s a hell of a lot of streets. They’ll never be able to close them all off.’
‘We have to try, damn it!’ He turned and glared at Kyle, who was being escorted away by a pair of guards. ‘Wait, don’t take him to holding. Take him to my office. And bring Voss and James, too. I want to know what the hell’s going on here. Tony, come with me.’ He started towards an exit, then stopped as he realised the Bullpen’s staff were staring at him in confusion. ‘Well? You’ve got your orders – get on with them! Find that car! Find Adam Gray!’
‘Put your head down,’ said Adam as he saw a police car approaching from the other direction. ‘They’re looking for two people, not one.’
Bianca squirmed lower in her seat, dropping below the window line. The MPD cruiser drew closer, the driver’s eyes flicking towards the Mustang – then it passed. Adam checked the mirror. The cops disappeared into the distance. ‘Okay, they’re gone. They’re not looking for this car.’
She cautiously lifted her head. ‘What now?’
‘Go somewhere quiet, then use the PERSONA to see what’s on that disk.’ He glanced at the bag in her lap. ‘Find out what was in my
mind.’
He looked ahead. An alley led between some run-down commercial buildings. He slowed and turned into it. ‘The neighbourhood’s a bit grotty,’ said Bianca.
‘We’re not going to get carjacked by drug dealers in broad daylight.’ He slowed the Mustang. ‘This should do.’
It was a brick structure with a small loading dock set into its rear, real-estate signs proclaiming that the property was available to rent. The windows were boarded up. Adam turned the car into the space and stopped. They were completely hidden from the main street; anyone looking for them would have to come down the alley to find them.
If someone did do that, the Mustang would be blocked in by their vehicle. But it was a chance he had to take.
He twisted to get the cases from the back seat – and let out a grunt of pain. ‘Stay still, I’ll do that,’ Bianca told him. ‘Let me see.’ He reluctantly shifted position. ‘Oh, God. You’re still bleeding – it’s all over your back!’ A blotchy dark patch had swollen outwards from the wound, soaking his clothing.
‘It’ll look worse than it is,’ he said, trying to reassure her – and himself. ‘It’s just spread because I’ve been pressed against the seat.’
‘Are you sure? How do you feel?’
‘I’m feeling . . . that I wish I’d used anaesthetic. But I’m okay. Really.’ He managed a small, strained smile. ‘Get the PERSONA set up.’
It was awkward doing so in the confines of the coupé, but after a few minutes Bianca had connected both units of the PERSONA device and switched them on. Despite its rough treatment since leaving the STS building, the system appeared to be in working order. She took out the memory module. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’
Adam finished donning the skullcap. ‘I don’t know if I’m going to like what I find out. But I’ve got to find out.’ He faced her. ‘Is this on okay?’
She reached up to adjust the electrodes. ‘There. You’re good.’ Her hand stayed against his skin for an extra moment as she regarded him with concern. ‘What are you going to do if it really is something bad?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said in a quiet voice. Then, more firmly: ‘Give me the shot and start the transfer. Let’s get this over with. However it turns out.’
‘Okay.’ She took the jet injector from the medical case. ‘Are you ready?’
‘Do it.’
‘Good luck.’ She positioned the nozzle against his neck and pulled the trigger, then watched the now unsettlingly familiar sight of all expression fading from his face. Thirty seconds passed. ‘I’m going to start the transfer,’ she whispered. Adam’s only response was a slight nod.
She touched the controls. The PERSONA’s screen came to life, beginning to feed the recorded memories back into their owner’s mind.
43
Know Thyself
Morgan’s mood had not improved by the time he reached his office.
‘Right,’ he said, glowering at the three young specialists lined up before his desk. ‘I want answers, and I want them now. All three of you were working to help Adam get away. Why?’
Holly Jo, Levon and Kyle exchanged unhappy looks, none wanting to be the first to speak. ‘Let me spell it out for you,’ Morgan continued. ‘You deliberately impeded an operation to capture a rogue agent who had stolen highly classified information – and assaulted a senior STS official in the process, in case you’d forgotten. That means you can be charged under the Espionage Act! We’re talking a good thirty years in federal prison here – assuming you aren’t all packed off to Guantanamo. So this is your last chance. Why did you help Adam?’
Tony spoke before any of them could answer. ‘Because I told them to.’
It took Morgan a moment to fully process what he had heard. When he did, his tone was calmer, yet more dangerous than ever. ‘Would you care to explain that?’
‘I ordered,’ Tony placed emphasis on the word, ‘them to help Adam evade capture. They were acting under my instructions as their superior, so the responsibility for everything they did is mine.’
‘Very noble of you,’ said Morgan. He looked at the trio. ‘And would you all back up that statement?’
‘Yeah, totally,’ Kyle gabbled. ‘I mean, it’s Tony – he’s our boss, we all trust him, and we do what he says, right?’ He took in the disapproving expressions of his companions. ‘What?’
‘He’s right,’ said Tony, before Holly Jo or Levon could add anything. ‘They were following my orders.’
‘While disobeying mine,’ Morgan replied. He regarded Tony in silence for several tense seconds. ‘All right, if that’s how you want to play it . . . You three,’ he snapped, turning back to the specialists. ‘You’re all relieved of duty pending further investigation. Report to the security office and turn in your IDs, then get out of my agency. I’ll deal with you later.’
They mumbled shamed affirmations, then left the room. ‘You asshole,’ Holly Jo hissed at Kyle.
‘What?’ he protested. ‘That’s what Tony wanted!’
Morgan waited for the door to close behind them. ‘So, what do you want, Tony? Why have you decided to risk your career – your freedom – for Adam?’
‘Because he deserves to know the truth about himself,’ Tony answered.
‘But you don’t know what that truth is.’
‘Do you?’
‘No,’ Morgan admitted. ‘But the Admiral vouched for him as an ideal candidate to replace you – and whatever the reasons Adam had for wanting to forget his past, he asked to forget it.’
‘But he’s changed his mind. Now he wants to remember – or at least to find out why he wanted to forget. He wants to learn who he really is, and what we took away from him. I think he has a right to know.’
‘You don’t have the authority to give him that information,’ Morgan said sternly. ‘And nor do I, for that matter.’
‘You’re saying it’s entirely Harper’s call?’
‘It is.’
‘You can’t tell me you agree with that.’
‘Whether I do or not is irrelevant. And for God’s sake, Tony, even if I sympathise with Adam’s motives, he’s gone about this in the wrong way. He assaulted Kiddrick, stole classified data, sabotaged a government facility and wreaked havoc in the capital! You know we can’t tolerate that. And I can’t tolerate insubordination.’
Tony took a deep breath, then nodded. ‘I understand. What are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know yet. For now, you can wait in holding until I figure that out.’ The phone on his desk rang. ‘Yes?’ He listened, expression hardening. ‘Right.’ He put it down and regarded Tony grimly. ‘Speak of the devil. Harper is here.’
The Director of National Intelligence was in Morgan’s office barely a minute later. ‘I want to know what in the name of the good Christ is going on,’ he snarled. ‘How the hell did Gray get away?’
‘I helped him,’ Tony said.
Harper seemed about to explode. ‘What?’
‘Tony just admitted to me that he was passing information to Adam that allowed him to evade capture,’ explained Morgan – the truth, but not in its entirety. Tony gave him a brief look of gratitude on behalf of his three co-conspirators. ‘I put him under arrest just before you arrived.’
Harper stared angrily at Tony. ‘Then why is he still here and not in a cell?’
Morgan picked up the phone. ‘Get security to my office,’ he ordered.
The white-haired man marched up to Tony, almost nose to nose with him. ‘What the fuck are you playing at, Carpenter?’
Tony didn’t blink. ‘Why is it so important that Adam doesn’t remember his past, Admiral?’
Harper’s fury rose at being challenged. ‘That’s not your goddamn concern!’
‘My concern is the people under my command – and Adam is one of them.’
‘And my concern is the security of the United States! By taking that disk, Gray is a direct threat to that security. If it gets into the wrong hands—’
‘It’s
in Adam’s hands,’ Tony cut in, raising Harper’s ire still further. ‘They’re his own memories! How can finding out about his past be a threat to national security?’
Before Harper could reply, there was a knock at the door. ‘Come in,’ Morgan barked. Two security officers entered. ‘Take Mr Carpenter to holding and keep him there until further orders.’
‘What did Adam know?’ Tony demanded. ‘What’s on that disk, Admiral?’
‘Get him out of my sight,’ Harper growled.
‘And what about Adam?’ asked Tony as the two men ushered him to the door.
‘We’ll catch him,’ replied Morgan.
‘And if he’s used the PERSONA to re-imprint his own memories?’
Harper said nothing – but the concern clearly visible even through his mask of anger was an answer in itself.
Bianca watched the rush of data on the PERSONA’s screen subside. She checked that the diagnostic readings were in order, then turned to Adam. ‘Are you okay?’
He opened his eyes. ‘Yeah. I think.’
‘I’ll try to do a memory check. What’s your full name?’
‘Adam Peter Gray.’
‘So you are really you, then.’ She remembered something he had said a few days earlier. ‘What was your dog called?’
‘Grover,’ Adam replied, a smile breaking. ‘I did have a dog, I remember him! He was an Irish setter.’
‘Where did you grow up?’
‘Crescent City, Florida.’
‘Your parents’ names?’
‘Steven and Lucia.’ Brief gloom crossed his face. ‘My dad passed away in 2004 – but my mom’s still alive! She’s still in Florida, she moved to Fort Lauderdale.’ His downcast look was completely swept away by delight. ‘My God, I can remember her! I can remember everything, my fam—’
He flinched as if he had taken a physical blow. His exhilaration instantly vanished, replaced by horror. ‘What is it?’ Bianca said, alarmed.
‘I have a brother,’ he mumbled. ‘I – I had a brother, a twin. He looked just like me. The dream, it wasn’t – oh God.’ He fumbled at the door handle, trying to get out of the car. The cord attached to the skullcap pulled tight. He clawed at it, tearing it off. ‘Oh God, no!’
The Persona Protocol Page 41
