The Trust (The Downlode Heroes Book 2)

by Mikey Campling

  Stewart shakes his head to dispel his dark mood, and he concentrates on the video files in his UI. “Select most recent file.”

  The interface responds correctly, highlighting the correct file. “Play.”

  Instantly, an image appears, filling his field of vision. It’s an in-game recording, a first person view, and as the playback begins the image jumps and flickers, and a message flashes up:

  CONNECTION LOST—INTERFACE RESETTING

  “Come on!” Stewart whispers. “Don’t fail me now.” But Kwan must’ve done his job well, and after a split-second of darkness, the image reappears, sharper and brighter than before. There’s a male avatar in front of him. The man is dressed in full desert combat gear, his body armor bristling with pouches and attachments. And the silver eagle patch on his uniform marks him out as a US colonel. Stewart studies the man carefully. He doesn’t recognize the man’s face at all, and that’s to be expected, but even when people go to great lengths to make sure their avatars look nothing like their real bodies, they can be betrayed by a mannerism or a habitual facial expression; a curl of the lip or a raised eyebrow can be more revealing than most people realize.

  Could this be Grimwood? Stewart’s frown deepens. He’s never met the man, but from what he’s heard, Grimwood isn’t the kind of person who’d dress himself up as a high ranking officer. The man has no need for delusions of grandeur or borrowed robes; he’s a genius, the smartest person in any room, and more likely to appear in ripped jeans and scuffed sneakers.

  Keep an open mind, Stewart tells himself. But then the avatar speaks, and whoever is playing this character, his tone is laden with gravitas. Of course the voice has been altered, but even so, when the mysterious colonel steps forward, he has the air of a person accustomed to authority: a grizzled elder statesman rather than a tortured genius.

  “Scarlett, it’s always a pleasure to meet with you. But what, I wonder, could be so important that it brings you to my door at this unearthly hour?”

  A female voice, presumably Scarlett, replies, and though the tone is deeper and somehow more mellifluous than Eileen’s, who else can it be? “I had to meet,” she says. “Things aren’t going well. I…I don’t think I can go through with this.”

  The man steps closer, his image looming larger before Stewart’s eyes. “No one ever said it would be easy, Scarlett. But we don’t have a whole lot of options to choose from here. What we have is a plan of action and it’s already moving forward. It’s vital that you continue to play your part, according to that plan.”

  “I know. I know all that. And I thought I could handle it, but I can’t…I can’t do it. Not anymore.”

  The man lifts his chin and looks down his nose, an expression of pure disdain on his face. “Now listen to me—you came to us with this plan. You made all the moves. And there were plenty of people telling me not to trust you with something so important. But you know what? I placed my faith in you. I went out on a limb for you.” He takes a deep breath, swelling his chest. “I placed my reputation on the line for you. And this is how you repay me?”

  Scarlett lets a muffled sob escape from her lips. “I’m sorry, OK? I thought I knew what I was getting into. But it’s just no good. I can’t sleep, I can’t think straight. I barely eat. And I can’t face anyone. I can’t go through the motions day to day, pretending everything’s all right, when I know it’s not—when I know I’m living a lie. I feel like I’m breaking apart.”

  The man’s face is a pitiless mask, his eyes cold and empty. “You made a commitment. Not only did you swear to see this thing through, but you made a promise to protect the Trust. And the Trust comes first. You know this. You can have no room for doubt.”

  “It doesn’t matter what you say. I want out, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” Scarlett’s voice is taut, tinged with desperation. “I quit!”

  “Not acceptable,” the man says. “That’s not going to happen, and you know why. I’ve already shown you what I can do. And you do not want me as an enemy. Trust me.”

  “For Christ’s sake, I’m not stupid!” Scarlett blurts out. “I’ve taken steps to protect myself. You can’t do anything to me or I’ll burn you and the whole world will know what kind of a man you really are.”

  “You’ve taken steps?” The man gives her a wolfish smile. “Did you think I’d be impressed by your steps? Did you? Because, let me tell you something, Eileen, and yes I’m dropping all this Scarlett bullshit. This avatar can’t protect you. And it can’t protect your family.”

  “What? Don’t you dare even talk about—”

  “I’ll talk about whoever I damned well please!” the man thunders. “Did you think you could hide from me? Did you think I wouldn’t track down your sister, and your mother? Oh, and here’s a surprise—not many people know about little Leonard do they? Because, man, you must’ve been pretty young when you had him—sixteen I think. Yes. Sixteen. And there he is, living his happy little life with his dad and his stepmom. And she’s real close to him. I hear she treats him like her own.”

  “Shut up!” Scarlett screams. “Shut your goddamned mouth! You can’t touch him, you goddamned bastard! You wouldn’t dare.” She sobs again, louder this time: a heartbreaking cry of despair. And when she speaks, all the force has gone from her voice. “You’ve got to keep away from him. You’ve got to. He’s got nothing to do with any of this. It’s not fair. It isn’t right.”

  The man sniffs. “I define what’s fair. And in this case, I’d say your sacrifice is a fair price to pay for the health and happiness of a little boy. I’d say you owe him that much. And if you can demonstrate a sufficient level of commitment, then I can’t see why we wouldn’t help you and little Leonard in return. I think that would be more than fair. I think that would be downright generous. But we’d be prepared to take that step. We’d be ready to help you. So long as you carry through with the plan exactly as we’ve discussed. Understand?”

  Scarlett exhales noisily. “All right. I‘ll try. I’ll do my best. But I can’t promise it will work out the way you want.”

  The man smiles. “You can let us worry about that. All we ask is that you play this thing through to its logical conclusion. And naturally, you must keep us informed through the usual channels.” He pauses and sweeps his hand through the air. “I don’t want to go through all this nonsense again. The next time we talk, use the secure system we put in place, all right?”

  “All right,” Scarlett says. “I’d better go. I have a class this morning.”

  The man narrows his eyes. “With the boy? This guy you’re using?”

  “With, Marcus. Yes.”

  “Good. Make sure he’s secure. And make sure he doesn’t put two and two together and figure out your identity. We don’t want some dumb kid mouthing off and ruining the whole damned thing.”

  “You needn’t worry about that. He doesn’t suspect a thing. He believes every word I say. It’s awful.”

  “No, it’s neither good nor bad—it’s simply necessary. Now, I’m going to grab some shut eye. Rest is important, Eileen, it’s the best way to stay sharp. So I suggest you look after yourself. Keep your emotions in check. See the doctor if you have to. Get some sleeping pills. Make sure you eat. There’s a lot riding on this, Eileen. And we can’t have you flaking out on us. We need you fighting fit. The Trust needs you. I need you. And the students in your care need you to do this right. And when it’s all over, you’ll get your reward, and then some. All right?”

  “Yes. I understand. I’ll be all right now. I just…I suppose I needed to blow off a little steam. That’s all.”

  The man grunts in approval, then his eyes lose focus and he fades from view.

  “Oh my God, what have I done?” Scarlett whispers. “Recording off.” And the image vanishes from Stewart’s UI.

  “What the hell have you got yourself involved in, Eileen?” Stewart asks the empty room. He pulls the headset off and stows it in his pocket. Then, leaving the interface for Kwan to deal
with, he heads for the door. His priorities are clear. Later, he’ll find a way to download the video and see if he can use it to track down Eileen’s contact. But it’s the mention of the student’s name that’s drawing tight a cold knot of fear in his stomach: Marcus! It can only be one person: the final year student Gordon talked about. Marcus Holst. And his so-called hiking trip is an obvious lie, a cover for some illicit purpose. I’ve got to find him, Stewart thinks. Before it’s too late.

  Stewart marches across the lab, acknowledging Kwan with a wave. “Thanks for your help.”

  “That’s all right,” Kwan calls out, but Stewart is already letting himself out and closing the door. I need to talk to Gordon, he thinks, in person. He hurries along the corridor, but when his phone vibrates in his pocket, he grabs it and checks the screen. The call is from Angela, and Stewart accepts it, but before he can speak, Angela starts talking: “Stewart, where are you? I’m at your office and I expected to see you here. I sent you a message.”

  “I was with Kwan. Sorry, I haven’t seen your message. I’ll be right there. I need to talk to you. Urgently.”

  “Why? What’s happened?”

  “I can’t say much right now. But we need to find a student—Marcus Holst. I think he’s in danger.”

  “Put security onto it. Tell them to forget Eileen and focus on Marcus.” There’s a pause. “Damn it, Stewart this couldn’t have happened at a worse time. We’ve got the new students arriving today and I need things to be calm and orderly. That’s why I wanted to meet you—to find out how things are going.”

  Stewart stands still and scrapes a hand down his face. “Oh my God! That’s today. Yes, of course.” He takes a breath. “What do you need me to do?”

  “As soon as you’ve briefed security, come and meet me in my office. I want a full report, but then we need to concentrate our efforts on making sure the new students arrive safely and carry on as normal. I don’t want any nasty surprises.”

  “I’ll be there in a few minutes, and we’ll put our heads together and work out a way to keep a lid on this. But if I was you, I’d prepare for any eventuality. Because I can’t make any promises, Angela. Not a single one.”

  CHAPTER 26

  THE GULFSTREAM DESCENDS LAZILY toward the runway, the rising note of its engines little more than a murmur, and it touches down so gently that Hank can’t distinguish the exact moment when the wheels meet the tarmac.

  “I guess we’ve arrived,” Seb says.

  “Yeah.” Hank looks out the window. They must have landed at some kind of airbase since the only other aircraft in sight are sleek fighter planes, their sinister shapes gleaming in the weak sunlight. He turns back to Seb. “Welcome to England.”

  A couple of flight attendants walk calmly down the aisle, gently reminding them all to take their belongings. Hank has only his backpack to collect, so he’s one of the first to exit the plane and walk down the small flight of steps to the runway, where a man in a dark suit is waiting to meet them.

  Hank sets foot on the tarmac, and the man steps forward. “My name’s Douglas,” he calls out, his gravelly English accent instantly jarring. “If you go over to the building there, my colleagues will guide you through the formalities as quickly as possible, then we’ll drive you out to Northridge.”

  “Sure, thanks,” Hank says. But the man has already turned away, repeating his message for the benefit of the next bunch of people to come down the steps. Is that it? Hank thinks. I wasn’t expecting banners and a military band, but a friendly word of welcome wouldn’t have hurt. But when he looks back, Seb is hurrying after him with Noah hard on his heels, and Hank smiles. “Come on, guys! I’m getting cold over here.” He hunches his shoulders, but after the perfect temperature of the jet’s cabin, the cool wind racing across the exposed airstrip cuts through his clothes and stings his skin.

  “All right,” Seb replies. He nods politely at Douglas as he passes by, then he joins Hank. “So, do we wait here or what?”

  “Didn’t that guy just tell you?”

  Seb shrugs. “Him? I don’t know. I didn’t really listen. You said hurry up, so I figured you knew what to do.”

  Noah appears at Seb’s side. “What are you guys waiting for? We’re meant to head over to the building aren’t we?”

  “Didn’t you listen to the guy in the suit?” Seb asks. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Hank laughs. “Oh man, you’re crazy, Seb. You should hear yourself. You really crack me up.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Seb says. “I know. I’m a comedian. Let’s go.” He sets off toward the building, and Hank and Noah follow in his footsteps. Hank turns up the collar of his jacket against the cold air, and when he looks around at the dismal collection of cheerless, concrete structures, a single question runs through his mind, over and over again: What the hell am I doing here?

  Inside the building, they’re met by a stern-faced woman dressed in a uniform Hank doesn’t recognize. Without being asked, the students form a queue, and when it’s Hank’s turn, the woman inspects his passport and hands it back without a smile or a kind word.

  “Thanks,” Hank says, but the woman simply nods and calls out, “Next”

  Hanks wanders over to where Seb is waiting, and mutters, “She’s a bundle of laughs.”

  “Yeah,” Seb says. “What do we do about out bags? There isn’t a carousel.”

  “I think it gets taken care of,” Hank says. “We’re all going to the same place, right?”

  “Right. Those guys look serious. Maybe they’ll tell us what happens next.”

  Seb nods toward the exit and Hank studies the small group of men and women standing patiently by the door, all of them wearing almost identical dark suits.

  “Yeah, I think you’re right, Seb. And here comes the guy that met us. Maybe he’s in charge.”

  The man from the runway clears his throat. “OK, ladies and gentlemen. If you could organize yourselves into groups of four or five, we’ll gather by the exit there and then we’ll get you into the cars and head out to Northridge. Don’t’ worry about your bags—we’ll bring them in a separate vehicle. All right?”

  He doesn’t wait for a response but marches toward the exit, checking his watch as he goes.

  “You grab Noah,” Hank says. “I’ll get Georgie and Ellen and that’s five.”

  “Sure,” Seb replies. “But who are Georgie and Ellen?”

  “I told you about them, on the plane. They’re cool. It’ll be fine.”

  Seb rushes to find Noah and Hank scans the students nearby. Georgie and Ellen are just about to have their passports checked. “Hey, Ellen, Georgie. Over here. Ride with us.”

  Georgie looks around with a start. “Sure. Give me one second.”

  Seb returns with Noah. “Look who I found staring out the window.”

  “So what?” Noah says. “A guy can take a look around, can’t he?”

  Seb puts on an exaggerated English accent. “All right. It’s a free bloody country, mate.”

  Hank groans. “Oh, please. Don’t do that.”

  “Yeah, that’s more like Australian or something,” Noah, puts in.

  “You can’t blame a chap for trying,” Seb says, his accent even worse, and they share a laugh.

  Ellen and Georgie join them, their eyes narrowed. “What’s so funny?” Ellen asks.

  Hank shakes his head. “We’re just getting a little stir crazy that’s all.”

  “OK,” Georgie says. “In that case, let’s do what Douglas said and get going.”

  “Yeah, lead on, Macduff,” Seb says, this time in a strangled Scottish accent.

  “I’m afraid you’ve got that quote wrong, sir,” someone says, and as one, they turn to see Douglas standing next to them.

  I didn’t hear him coming, Hank thinks. It’s like he just appeared out of nowhere.

  Seb colors. “Oh, I didn’t…er…we were just…”

  “That’s all right,” Douglas says. “But the line is, Lay on, Macduff. It’s a common misc
onception.”

  “Right,” Seb says seriously. “I’ll…I’ll bear that in mind.”

  Douglas rubs his hands together. “OK. It looks like you’ve sorted yourselves out, so if you follow me, I’ll show you to your vehicle.”

  “Great,” Georgie says. “We’re ready.”

  Douglas leads them outside, where five silver Range Rovers are parked in a row, alongside a van. He points to the first car. “That one’s ours. Take a seat and make yourselves comfortable. I’ll just make sure all the bags are in the van, and then we’ll move out.” He gives them a curt nod then marches back into the building.

  Seb looks at Hank and mouths, “Move out?”

  Hank shrugs. It is a strange turn of phrase for a chauffeur to use, but does it really matter? This journey’s gone on long enough, he thinks. I just want to stretch out my legs and relax. He turns to the others and says, “I call shotgun.”

  Ellen raises an eyebrow. “Does that count? Do they even have that over here?”

  “They do now,” Hank says, and he opens the front passenger door and climbs in. The door’s on the wrong side, he thinks. But look at the way this thing is kitted out. The car’s interior is seriously stylish, and Hank sits back and sinks into the red leather upholstery. He runs his hand across the wood paneling set into the central console and smiles at its perfect smoothness.

  “Hey, those seats at the back are smaller,” Seb says. “Maybe the girls should—“

  “Forget it,” Ellen interrupts. “Don’t even try to pull that bullshit with me. I’m taller than you anyhow.”

  “It’s fine,” Noah says. “I’ll take a back seat, but only if I get the whole row to myself.”

  “Leaving me with the girls?” Seb asks. “Are you serious?”

  “Come on, Seb,” Georgie chips in. “What are you, eleven years old?”

  “All right,” Seb says. “It’s no big deal. I don’t know what you’re making such a fuss about. Go ahead, Noah. You get in first.”

  They take their seats, and Douglas passes the car with their bags on a trolley. He returns a couple minutes later and climbs into the driver’s seat, pulling on his seatbelt as he slams the door. “Let’s go,” he says and starts the engine. He taps the screen on the car’s onboard computer, then he puts the car into gear and drives smoothly away.