But one person seemed to have vanished without trace: Conrad Herzog.
“Quite an achievement to disappear off the Net,” Cillian said.
“Unless he never left.” Tess typed Herzog’s name into the Gilgamesh staff database. The cursor scrolled for a couple of seconds, then a Restricted Access page appeared.
“Bingo.” Tess checked no-one was watching, then took out her smartCell and jumped a connection to the terminal.
“That doesn’t look very legal,” Cillian said apprehensively.
“It’s a crawler. Looking for holes in their firewall.”
“Useful.”
“Very. That’s why they banned them.”
A meta-control screen appeared on the library terminal and Tess got to work, her fingers light and fast on the screen.
Cillian glanced around the library to see if they were being watched. A few days ago the idea of illegally hacking an official database would have filled him with horror, but a few days ago was a different world.
As it broke through, the crawler morphed into a branching database, pointing at individual file locations.
“Here we go…” Tess started tapping through the tangle of connections.
“Let me.” Cillian tilted the screen towards him and relaxed his mind, letting his subconscious absorb the scrolling database—
When suddenly the screen froze. A beep, then the terminal shut down.
“Shit.”
“What are you doing?”
They spun round and saw the archivist glaring at them.
“It crashed,” Tess said innocently.
The archivist looked accusingly at Tess’s smartCell, still connected to the terminal. “I think you’d better leave.”
“We were just—”
“Before I call security.”
“Calm down,” Tess said, hurriedly stuffing her smartCell away.
“Just get out. Now.”
31
“If he works at Gilgamesh, Herzog will have a car. We can find him through his number plate,” Tess said as they walked briskly out of the main reception.
“Not on the hospital system. They’ll have blocked us now.”
“That’s why we need one of them.” She nodded towards a line of shabby taxis that had been repaired too many times. “They can always use a bit of extra cash.”
As they climbed into the 4×4 at the front of the line, Tess leaned over the driver’s seat. “Where’s the nearest place to get online?”
“In there.” The driver nodded towards the hospital.
“I mean privately online.”
The taxi driver scrutinized her, wondering if he was being set up. “Depends how cunning you are, love.”
“You’d be surprised.” Tess reached inside her jacket, pulled out a wad of notes and placed them on the front armrest. “Unregistered dollars.”
The taxi driver didn’t flinch.
“You know they’re worth twice the face value, right?”
The driver nodded. “I know.” But still he didn’t move.
Tess peeled off some more notes and tossed them down. “That’s it,” she said. “Take it or leave it.”
The taxi driver slowly put the money into his pocket, then slipped the car into gear and drove them away from Gilgamesh.
As Tess sat back she saw Cillian staring at her, suspiciously. “What?”
“You really did come prepared.”
“In another life, I should’ve been a boy scout.”
They looked like simple chrome silos on stilts, deliberately minimalist to withstand the wild weather, but on the inside they were packed with meteorological instruments that spewed out streams of data to overhead satellites. As climate instability accelerated, the silos had sprung up right across the country in an attempt to protect Foundation City from hurricanes and ice storms. But for a sophisticated hacker, Tess informed Cillian, they provided plenty of bandwidth to freeload online.
The taxi driver parked far enough away to deny all knowledge, while Cillian and Tess crunched across the ice towards the silo.
“No way will you be able to hack a government database. Not with that.” Cillian pointed at her smartCell.
“I don’t need to. There’s a mirror site on the Darknet.”
“So we’re rubbing shoulders with criminals and terrorists now?”
“It’s the only place to surf without being snooped.” She started tapping intently on her smartCell as they came within range.
Cillian looked up at the steel casing emblazoned with official logos. “If we carry on like this, sooner or later we’re going to get caught.”
“Do you want to find Herzog?” Tess said impatiently. “Or do you want to spend your whole life not knowing what’s going on?”
“I’m just saying, we need to be careful.” Cillian was taken aback by the sudden sharpness of her tone.
“Less worry, more faith … in me.” A smile flashed across Tess’s face, but now there was hardness in her eyes as well.
32
The grip of winter on the remote village was tight. Its freezing mists loomed around the buildings, lurked outside every door and window, enviously eyeing narrow cracks of light, searching for a way into the warmth.
Cillian and Tess huddled deeper into their coats as they walked past the gloomy houses.
“What do you suppose this place is like in summer?” Cillian ventured.
“Wet.”
He laughed.
“Seriously. This is the sort of place that goes from freezing to wet, then straight back to freezing again.”
Like most other villages, there were only 2 defining features here: the steeple of the old church, and the telecoms tower. But the church had long since become a relic; for the villagers all that mattered now was the telecoms tower, because that delivered the Ultranet into their homes.
“There’s got to be more than this, hasn’t there?” Tess shivered. “People shuttered up, whiling away their lives.”
“It certainly depresses the hell out of me.”
“How can they live so hollowed out? It’s not right. It shouldn’t be this way.”
“Maybe that’s why everyone wants to get out of the Provinces.”
“As if it’s much better in the City.”
Cillian looked at her askance.
“It’s true,” Tess retorted. “Once you strip away all the noise and tech, life in Foundation’s just as empty.”
“You’re not religious, are you?” Cillian asked warily.
“I don’t worship profit and technology, if that’s what you mean.”
Cillian went very quiet.
“You can’t tolerate that, can you?” Tess goaded. “Everything has to be rational. Explained. There’s no room for the mysterious.”
“The people who bombed the Metro did it in the name of religion. I can’t tolerate that. At least science doesn’t destroy lives.”
“It destroyed mine,” Tess said bluntly.
“That was money, not science.”
“It’s the same thing. Neither’s interested in morality, in what’s right and wrong. That gets forgotten every time.” But immediately Tess sensed she’d said too much; she could feel Cillian’s gaze scrutinizing her.
Keep calm.
Don’t get drawn in.
Stick to the mission.
“We must be nearly there now.” Tess checked the address on her smartCell. “That looks like it might be the place.” She pointed to a large white building that had once been a farmhouse.
Cillian glanced at the car parked in front of the driveway. “It’s Herzog’s registration.”
Tess led the way up the path, banged on the front door and waited.
Footsteps inside, then a voice called out, “Who is it?”
Tess put her fingers to Cillian’s lips to stop him replying. “Sounds better coming from me,” she whispered. Then calling through the door, “We’re looking for Conrad Herzog.”
A cautious silence.
/> The sound of bolts being slid back.
The door swung open to reveal a middle-aged man, tired eyes, a chaotic tangle of black hair. Guardedly, he looked Cillian and Tess up and down—
Then suddenly recognition hit him.
“Oh my god…” he whispered.
“I’m Paul’s son.”
Herzog nodded, stupefied. “I can see.”
“And this is Tess.”
Herzog glanced at her, then turned back to Cillian, staring at him intently.
“Can we come in?”
33
As Cillian talked, Tess studied Herzog. He listened with a dark intensity that was far more than curiosity; it was almost as if he was analysing Cillian, like a specimen.
All the while Herzog nodded slowly, but said nothing. Then finally, “Do you like sports?”
Cillian was nonplussed. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Are you a good athlete? You look like you’d be pretty fast. Like it would come naturally.”
“I’ve never been that interested.” Cillian shrugged. “Why does it matter?”
“But you’re an A* student, right?”
“Look, I came to find out about my father.”
“More than A*,” Herzog ventured. “Much more I bet.”
“You want a CV or something?” Cillian was getting irritated by Herzog’s evasiveness; but as he caught Tess’s eye, she seemed to be urging him to tread carefully.
“I don’t want to make trouble,” Cillian said. “I just … how close were you as students?”
“We were friends.”
“But you lost contact.”
“It happens.”
“Did you fall out? Was there an argument?”
“I guess.”
Cillian could see deception written all over Herzog’s face. “Whatever you know, why won’t you just tell me?”
“I don’t owe you any explanations. He was the one who cut himself off.”
“What’s so important about Gilgamesh?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why did it mean so much to my father?”
“It’s just another hospital.”
“Bullshit.” It was the first thing Tess had said since coming inside, and it really put Herzog on edge.
“What would you know?” he said defensively.
“I know when people are lying.”
Herzog’s eyes flicked between Tess and Cillian. “How exactly do you two know each other?”
“My father never told me about Gilgamesh until his dying breath,” Cillian said, trying to keep him on track. “That must mean something. And now it turns out he was being paid money for the last 16 years. By Gilgamesh P8. Where you work.”
Slowly Herzog tapped his teeth with his fingers. Cillian sensed that part of him was desperate to say more, to find out more … but something was making him hold back. Fear, perhaps.
“Did he ever talk about your mother?” Herzog asked.
“She died when I was born. Did you know her?”
“That’s a complicated question.”
Cillian was confused. “No … it’s not.”
“He’d been married to Natasha for 3 years when she was diagnosed with cancer. Of the heart – very rare. It was latent in her mother, second generation, but something triggered it. When they found out, Paul turned his whole life over to genetic research, desperately looking for some kind of radical cure.” Herzog looked down as he remembered. “He was devastated. And angry. He couldn’t accept she’d been cut down like that. You have to understand, the rage was going to eat him up unless he did something. That was Paul – always had to do something.”
“So … my mother fell pregnant even though she knew she was dying?”
“Like I said, it’s not that simple.”
“When did she die?” Tess cut hard across the double-talk. “When? That’s simple enough.”
But her bluntness made Herzog back off. He stood up. “I really think you should leave now.”
Cillian refused to move. “My father punched a hole in my life when he died. I shouldn’t have to live with that. Why was he lying to me?”
“I’ve said all I can.”
“Please … you’re the only one who can help.”
“Natasha’s buried here, in the village,” Herzog reluctantly admitted. “I can take you to her grave. Maybe that’s the best way.”
34
One glance at the dates carved on the gravestone and Cillian’s life twisted again. Natasha had been dead and buried 5 years before he was even born.
He turned to Herzog. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“I’m just telling you what I know—”
“Who the hell is Natasha?” Cillian felt the rage building inside.
“She was Paul’s wife. But she wasn’t your mother.”
“Then who was?”
“I don’t know!” Herzog said, hands raised. “Paul never told me. That’s the truth, I swear.”
Cillian looked down at the grave. The carved letters stared back at him defiantly.
“You OK?” Tess stepped closer, but Cillian pulled away.
A carved logo on the headstone caught his eye: Chip-Enabled. He took out his smartCell and scanned it over the logo.
Moments later a torrent of images played across his screen: Natasha as a child, pictures of her growing up, video clips, fragments of music, tributes from friends, fleeting memories of her life. Cillian saw his father as a young man, hugging Natasha tightly. They looked so happy and easy – again he glimpsed that carefree side to his father, unconcerned with the worries of the world. It wasn’t the man he had known at all.
The last image faded, leaving a 20th-century quote hanging on the screen: Death is the seed from which I grow.
“Grow what? What does it mean?”
Herzog looked at Tess. “Maybe you should ask her.”
“Stop playing games,” Tess warned. “I know what you’re trying to do.”
“I’m sure you do. I bet you know a lot more.”
“Please,” Cillian said, “just tell us what you can.”
Herzog hesitated – he could see the pain on Cillian’s face. “Your father felt betrayed that Natasha couldn’t be saved. It pushed him deeper into genetics … the kind of research that frightens people. That’s how he came into contact with P8. I can’t say more than that.”
“We’ve come a long way to get answers.” Tess stepped towards him. “Do you seriously think we’re just going to walk away?”
The coldness in her voice was a clear warning. Herzog tried to see if she had a weapon hidden under her coat, but he couldn’t be sure.
“At first P8 was just a few labs,” he continued reluctantly, “but it grew. Took over the old Gilgamesh buildings and sealed itself off from the rest of the hospital. They drew your father in, way too deep … it put our friendship under strain. Then one day he just left. I never heard from him again.”
“We need to get inside Gilgamesh,” Tess said bluntly.
Herzog shook his head. “Impossible.”
“And we need you to make it happen.”
“Haven’t you listened to a word I’ve said? There aren’t any visiting hours!”
“That’s precisely why we need your help—”
“Forget it. It’s not going to happen.”
“That’s no good,” Tess replied quietly.
“But it’s the way it is.”
For a few moments they glared at each other in silence.
Suddenly an engine pulsed ominously in the sky. They looked up and could just make out a surveillance drone flying overhead through the mist.
“Police patrol,” Herzog said. “They’re always flying over. You should be careful.”
“Why?” Tess said. “We’re not the ones hiding things.”
Herzog really didn’t like her. “Cillian, if you’re smart, you’ll stop now. All you’ll find inside Gilgamesh is pain. Go back to your life, forget this happened, a
nd in future …” Herzog glanced warily at Tess, “… choose your friends more carefully.”
He turned and walked back down the path, leaving them standing by the grave.
35
Tess checked her smartCell and found a Standard Design Roadhouse just a few kilometres away.
With 24/7 stores, recharge points for vehicles, a choice of diners and some overnight rooms, the SDRs had spread like a rash across the Provinces, replacing village shops and pubs with merciless efficiency. Clean, characterless and functional, it was the perfect place to crash while working out their next move.
Cillian slumped on the bed and closed his eyes. For a few blissful moments his mind flashed back to the WallScreen in his study-pod covered with equations. He longed for the security of that world now. Numbers could be controlled and manipulated; they had certainty and logic, unlike the real world where everything was a hopeless tangle of half-truths.
“Maybe Natasha’s grave explains the missing 3 years,” Tess suggested.
Cillian opened his eyes, reluctantly facing reality again.
“Whoever your mother was, for some reason she had to be written out of the picture.”
“Why was Herzog so suspicious of you?”
Tess felt the full force of Cillian’s gaze. “Don’t get hung up on that. He was trying to divide us. I doubt he even told us half of what he knows.”
But still Cillian looked at her, unblinking. “Do you think my father was being paid off? For something he did in Gilgamesh, something terrible?”
“It’s possible.”
“It would explain why Herzog fell out with him.”
“Herzog falls out with everyone. He’s that type.”
“But what if he’s right? Maybe we should stop now before we find things we wish we hadn’t.”
“Your father wanted you to know,” Tess urged. “That’s why he told you about Gilgamesh. He wanted you to do this. If you don’t confront it, you’ll be haunted by it your whole life.”
Cillian rolled onto his side. “I’m not so sure.”
“Those people who broke into your apartment, do you think they’ll stop? You can’t walk away from this because they won’t.”
Maladapted Page 8
