Going Underground
Page 27
‘I told you what would happen, didn’t I?’ he shouted in her ear as she hung limply, her head slumped forward. ‘I warned you not to cross me, didn’t I?’ he added.
Jen had fallen unconscious, much to Besson’s annoyance. He walked around to the front again and then began striking her wildly across the face.
‘Wake up! I haven’t finished with you yet!’ Besson screamed as he lifted the blindfold from her eyes, but his request remained unheard.
‘Get her down—take her back to her cell!’
Parker detached Jen’s restraints from the chain that had been holding her weight for the past hour and a half, put her over his shoulder, and exited the interrogation room.
Unlike Oscar, Jen would not have the luxury of recuperating in the infirmary. Besson had made quite clear that she was to be returned to the cramped cell where it was impossible to sit or recline, only stand. It would be her third day inside it. If that didn’t break her down, nothing would.
*
Gerick had made it back to the confines of his office with his notes clutched firmly in his hands. It was crucial that he find a way of getting a message through to The Independent Mind. For the moment, it was safe to make a video call from his computer.
After placing his notes on cloning on his overly cluttered desk, Gerick fumbled and flapped around in his desperation to get hold of Oscar. With only three bites at the cherry before the system locked him out, there could be no margin for error.
Chapter Twenty-One
Gerick was starting to panic at the lack of response from Oscar’s end. He wondered how he would be able to inform The Independent Mind that two of their operatives were being tortured to death. There was one way he could try and get a message through to them. He would have to deliver the message in person, but first he would have to hack into the security cameras and link them out again, before he could consider such a manoeuvre. As with the last time, the problem with creating a loop was that it would only last an hour. Gerick was quietly confident that he could find them in time and get back before it ran out. He did have one factor in his favour: his office was directly on top of one of the grates that led to the tunnel networks, which the Mind regularly used to conduct their business.
Without further hesitation, Gerick turned back to his computer. He was trying not to look overly suspicious, which would give John Howard’s security unit an excuse to come down and read him the riot act. Any hint of nervousness on his part, and they would be on him like a bad rash. As far as security was concerned, Gerick was working on a new formula, as he had done every evening over the past few weeks since his meeting with the Prime Minister in his office.
*
With the link in place, Gerick was ready to make his way into the tunnel network to find The Independent Mind before Besson began his second round of interrogation. He hadn’t quite finished with Jen yet, and time was slowly running out.
Gerick lifted the grate slowly so as to not make too much noise, gently slid himself down into the tunnel and dropped the final three feet to the damp floor, landing awkwardly. He dusted himself off and looked either way before heading towards the most logical place. Oscar had never divulged The Independent Mind’s headquarters, but given the choices, Charing Cross was the most obvious.
Gerick had a little over forty-five minutes to do what he had to do, but it wasn’t going to be easy trying to find people who didn’t want to be found. As he walked, a horrible thought crossed his mind: what if the two captives had been replaced by two of the embryos he had been working on? Surely not: he would have known if something like that had happened, as he was the only person who had access to the blood work and DNA samples of the war dead, labour camp victims, and victims of circumstance. Besides, it took three days to complete the growing process of each embryo. These thoughts and many others plagued Gerick as he entered the Charing Cross segment of the tunnel; with only thirty minutes left, time was of the essence.
*
‘Jonah, Jen should’ve been back here yesterday morning,’ said Myron, his face etched with concern. ‘You don’t think she could be in trouble, do you?’
‘Maybe it wasn’t safe for her to come back straight away,’ Jonah replied calmly as he washed up some beer mugs. ‘You know how unsafe it is outside the network. Besides, Oscar will look after her.’
Maybe the thought of her being with Oscar was what Myron was afraid of. He needed to get out and try and find her.
‘I have to at least make an attempt to satisfy my curiosity,’ said Myron. ‘Please don’t try and talk me out of it!’
‘I won’t, guv’nor,’ replied Jonah, ‘but you be careful and keep your head about you!’
Myron headed towards the back door, not giving Jonah a second glance. As promised, Jonah didn’t raise a finger to stop him, even though the patrol numbers were at their highest at this time of night.
Before opening the door, Myron opened the eye level flap and glanced into the yard. It was far too dark to see anything, but all seemed quiet, and it seemed safe to exit Ryker’s without having a run-in.
Myron slid his way along the rear wall of the olde curiosity shop towards the front, stopping in the shadows the moonlight cast over the building. He looked out into the street; it looked safe to proceed. Certainly, the patrols’ presence within the Charing Cross network were cause for concern, as it was the first time they had taken any interest in the network. Myron wasn’t fazed; he carried on with his journey, regardless of the fact he was putting his life in danger by being out long after curfew. His main concern at that moment was trying to find Jen. As far as Oscar was concerned, he had no feelings. He regarded Oscar’s risky venture as irresponsible, and wished he had said as much at the warehouse before he allowed Jen to accompany the pompous little bugger on a fool’s errand.
Although they weren’t romantically involved, Myron still considered Jen his soulmate and would do anything to protect her, including risking his own life. Stealthy as a ninja, Myron made his way towards the Charing Cross underground, looking over his shoulder at every turn.
*
Gerick could see a distant light at the end of the tunnel, and the thought that it was the beginning of Charing Cross brought him great relief. At the same time, he didn’t relish the idea of having to go out into the open. Abject fear gripped him; his journey had been pointless.
He was on the verge of completely giving up when, out of nowhere, the shadow of a man appeared across the derelict tracks. Gerick took a few steps backwards; he had passed a small crevice in the wall a bit further back and thought it wise to use it.
Myron jumped down onto the track and began to make his way through the tunnel, rapidly approaching Gerick’s position. Gerick remained still but couldn’t stifle the urge to sneeze, giving his position away. The tunnel network was littered with bits of pipe and wood, used as protection against the patrols during the DNA retrieval exercises that were carried out a year or so before. Myron picked up a pipe to his liking and, with extra precaution, crept towards the crevice.
Gerick knew there was no escape from the inevitable and decided to show himself to his aggressor. Myron raced over to him with the pipe held aloft, grabbed him forcefully, and threw him against the wall.
‘What are you doing? I need to get somewhere urgently—let me go!’ Gerick begged. ‘Please, I have to find someone! People’s lives depend on it!’
‘Who do you have to find?’ Myron growled, bringing the pipe towards Gerick’s throat with the intention of pinning him with it.
Gerick tried in vain to escape Myron’s clutches, but the youth’s strength surpassed his own.
‘Tell me! Then I will let you go about your business!’ Myron barked.
Gerick cleared his throat nervously and said urgently, ‘I need to contact the people responsible for the radical newsletter that has been in circulation. I need to know if any of their operatives have gone missing.’
Myron’s eyes widened and his grip on Gerick slackened.
Gerick was a little apprehensive to say the least, but did as he was asked, being in no position to refuse Myron’s request.
‘I work within the walls of the Parliament buildings, and I have heard that two members of The Independent Mind have been arrested and taken to the medical wing for interrogation. You need to get the message to The Independent Mind quickly, before it’s too late!’
‘No need,’ said Myron, smiling. ‘You’ve just told one of its founding members!’
‘What a stroke of luck!’ Gerick cried. ‘Now, I’ve got to get back to my office before it’s too late!’
‘Can I come with you?’ Myron pleaded. ‘That’s the only way I can get into the Parliament buildings without being detected. I don’t have paperwork or the proper clearance, and I can’t just waltz up to the front door!’
‘Yes, yes, of course you can come with me,’ said Gerick, ‘but we must hurry! The link I set up to cover for my absence runs out in ten minutes!’
*
Gerick’s head popped up through the open grate in his office, followed closely by Myron. Gerick prepared himself for the switching of the link, and quickly shunted Myron to one side as he climbed up from the tunnel, as he lay directly in the path of one of the security cameras.
‘Sorry about that! Didn’t want to draw attention to myself—link’s about to end!’ said Gerick in a remarkably nonchalant manner, considering the tense circumstances.
Gerick quickly moved back into view briefly for the sake of the changeover, giving security the chance to see him working before he moved back over to Myron.
‘Where is the medical wing?’ Myron asked softly, not wanting to be any more of a burden to Gerick than he had already been.
Gerick glanced around for something suitable as a weapon. He couldn’t have Myron wandering the corridors unarmed. He would be walking into danger in the corridors of the medical wing, and therefore needed something to protect himself.
‘As soon as you exit this office, your life will be in danger,’ Gerick admonished the youth. ‘I’m trying to find something that you could utilise as a weapon—bear with me for a minute.’
Myron suddenly had cold feet; maybe it wasn’t such a good idea rushing in headlong. The best course of action was heading back to Ryker’s and the network to gather a small army to aid in Oscar and Jen’s rescue.
‘Never mind, Gerick,’ said Myron ‘I’m going back to the network to get some more people and weapons. I can’t leave anything to chance.’
‘That sounds like the best plan,’ Gerick agreed.
The only problem Gerick had was getting Myron out of the office back through the grate.
‘I will keep the camera occupied,’ said Gerick. ‘There is another, smaller grate at the back of the office—use that.’
Myron made his way towards the back of the office as instructed, leaving Gerick to carry on. Myron was unaware of the true nature of Gerick’s work, and the fact he had been feeding Oscar with information over the previous months. His main concern was getting to Jen and Oscar before either of them cracked under the strain. At first it was all about their deaths, but now it was the fact The Independent Mind would no longer be in a position of power if either were to confess anything under the barrage of torture. They would have to go further underground to escape the persecution they would be forced to endure as a result.
*
Jen regained consciousness in her iron maiden-esque cell, only to be faced with the silhouette of man watching over her. When her blurred vision refused to clear, she recognised the figure by its horrible breath. Jen could feel her stomach churning at the thought of Parker coming any closer, and she turned her head to the side to escape his wretched breath.
Jen’s eyes finally focused, and she dared to look at him. Lawrence Parker was standing just inches away, a menacing grin on his sallow face. Now she could see why his breath was so bad: he had a mouthful of blackened, decaying teeth, like many stalactites and stalagmites in a damp, dark cave.
‘Where’s the cat?’ she asked, holding her nose.
Parker cocked an eyebrow. ‘What cat?’
‘That cat that shat in your mouth!’
‘I ought to drag you out of there and give you a good hiding,’ replied Parker, ‘but that would displease Dr. Besson. You’re his pet, and he has very specific plans for you. He’ll be very happy to know that you’ve recovered.’
Parker departed, sporting the same menacing grin he had arrived with. He did not faze her at all. She thought how pathetic he was, and what a sad little life he had. Jen thought of ways that she could push his buttons—get him so riled up that he would be forced to seek revenge. On her first visit to the interrogation room she had witnessed the nasty way Besson treated him, and had designs on taking advantage of the situation.
Jen made the most of her reprieve, which she knew would be short-lived. She mentally prepared herself for the next assault on her body, knowing full well Besson would crank up the intensity this time.
Footsteps approached. Now was her chance to engage Parker in a mind game she would win, making him putty in her hands.
Alas, it was Besson who approached and prattled on about what he had planned for her next. She turned a deaf ear to him, her face inscrutable and expressionless, which annoyed him no end.
‘Did you hear me?’ he shouted angrily. ‘No good you trying to block me out—I’m not going to go away!’
All Jen could do was smile, as her stoicism had obviously gotten under his skin. It was silly in a sense, as he would make her suffer greatly in the long run; she hadn’t taken the consequences into consideration, but she didn’t seem to care—she would quite happily die for the cause.
*
Besson crashed through the interrogation room door. Parker didn’t know where to put himself for the best. He had seen Besson angry before, but never like this. Parker backed into the corner, cringing.
‘You, Parker—set up the ankle restraints, and make sure they are tight to the floor!’ Besson barked.
Parker knew straight away what was intended, and he shuddered at the thought of having to watch Jen being made to suffer such torture. As per usual, Parker bowed down to Simon Besson’s wishes without so much as a word—no matter how wrong he thought he was. Certainly, he had a distinct dislike for Jen. She was an impudent little she-devil of impure blood, but no one should have to suffer what Besson had in mind. Hot irons searing one’s skin was sadistic enough, but having one’s joints purposely pulled out of place to wring a confession was horrifying beyond Parker’s comprehension. His hatred for Besson was already great but now it consumed him, and if he could hurt him in any way he would gladly do so. Besson considered him weak. He didn’t know what his strengths were; Besson had put paid to that, with his continual barrage of put-downs. Then there was the girl’s cruel commentary on his chronic halitosis, which he couldn’t help. Parker was consumed with self-loathing, but deep within him dwelt a dynamo, waiting for a spark.
‘As soon as you’ve set up the restraints, I want you to get that little bitch back in here! If what I have intended doesn’t loosen her tongue, nothing will.’ Besson sneered.
Besson took his leave. Yet another coffee break! Parker thought to himself. Against his better judgement, he felt the need to warn Jen. His dislike for her faded with every screw that he turned. When he went to collect her, he’d urge her to cooperate—unless she fancied practically being torn limb from limb. From what he had already seen, he knew that Jen wouldn’t give in straight away, and if she did, she would rather give false information than give away The Independent Mind’s location.
*
Jen stared blankly forward through the small barred recess of her cramped cell. She thought of how to deal with the next wave of attacks on her body. She seriously feared for her life, not knowing how much more her spirit and her body co
uld take.
Hurrying footsteps snapped her out of her trance. It was Parker, come to fetch her. His face had lost its menacing aspect; it looked almost kind.
‘It’s time! But there is something you should know.’ He paused momentarily. ‘Besson is going to pull out all the stops with you. The torture he has planned is heinous beyond words; you might not survive. I seriously urge you to cooperate—please.’
Jen was puzzled by Parker’s change of heart and his concern towards her. Before he seemed to be Besson’s all-too-willing accomplice in her suffering, but now he had become her protector. Jen smiled and thought better of ridiculing him, as she had originally intended.
‘Thank you,’ she said gratefully.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Parker, ‘but I have to put you in restraints. Please understand, I’m only doing what I’ve been told.’
‘I do understand,’ Jen replied as he gently placed the restraints around her wrist. ‘We’re both prisoners here, in a way, aren’t we?’ she added sympathetically.
‘Yes,’ said Parker sadly. ‘You’re only too right.’
Slowly, Parker walked the unresisting Jen down the echoing corridor back to the interrogation room.
‘You will have to forgive me,’ Parker whispered upon their arrival, ‘but I have to keep up appearances. Play along!’ He forcefully grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and cried half-heartedly: ‘Get in there, you bitch!’
Besson waited impatiently, wringing his hands as he watched Parker push Jen over to the centre of the room.
‘Where the hell have you been? I want to get on with this!’ Besson growled.
Jen was oblivious to what was being said, her main focus lying on the chains that had been fixed to the floor. Her eyes widened in terror, as she had heard about such tortures but she never dreamed she’d experience their horror firsthand.
‘Shake a leg, Parker! Get her hooked up—time’s a-wasting!’ Besson barked impatiently.
Parker quickly complied, as he knew it would be worse for Jen in the long run if he didn’t hurry along. The more impatient Besson got, the more his victim would suffer.