by Nick Jones
She thought of the Histeridae again. Would he use it? Would he even try?
Chapter 30
Two hours was a long time for her mind to stew. When the guard entered the cell, cuffed her and ordered her to stand, Jen was strangely relieved. In silence they walked the sterile corridor, passing identical doors, twenty or so before she stopped counting. She wondered who might be held behind those nondescript walls. David Shaw, the mystery man, perhaps? Maybe even Thomas by now?
After various security checks, the guard pushed open two large steel doors and they were outside, the sun bursting over them. Jen barely had time for her eyes to adjust before being pushed into the back of an armoured vehicle. Blinking against the harsh light, she saw a runway and tall fencing in the distance. It didn’t help; she still had no idea where she was. The thick doors sealed her in darkness. No windows. Just the rhythmic dings of rain starting on the metal roof. The rain had turned into a downpour by the time the doors opened again. Jen was surprised when Jim McArthur entered the car and sat opposite her, shaking the rain from his jacket.
She scowled at him. ‘Come to babysit me?’
He didn’t make eye contact. The guard banged the side of the vehicle and it pulled away. She studied Jim McArthur in the artificial interior light. He looked uneasy.
‘Peter Callaghan.’ She winced at his name, the thought of him gone. Murdered. ‘My God, Mac.’
Her thoughts turned to the Duality Division. A group of dedicated officers she had worked alongside for years. The unit had been specifically created to support and uphold new laws, legislation that she believed was going save mankind. What did that mean now?
‘Ravenscroft. Richards.’ She was trying to figure out where everyone fit into this secret world of his. ‘Are they all in on it?’
‘Everything you thought you knew.’ His voice cracked like thick ice. He leant towards her. ‘It’s all lies.’
‘Your family? That was a lie too?’
The pause was enough. They were part of the façade.
Jen thought back to summer days, barbecues on his patio. His wife bringing a plate of salad, tender, loving exchanges between them. It was like a dream in which you could sense a bomb was about to go off but you couldn’t warn anyone.
They traveled in silence for a while until the road sounded different and the armoured vehicle sped up.
‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked.
McArthur looked noticeably uncomfortable. He tapped at a small console on the side panel of the truck. It looked like a map.
‘What’s going on?’ Jen asked. ‘You need to tell me.’
McArthur reached inside his jacket and pulled a gun. Jen felt the pit of her stomach sink. He was going to kill her. Shoot her, right here in the back of the van. Dump her body somewhere. She felt like glass, heavy and immovable. It would take all of her effort to launch herself at him. She wanted to go down fighting at least and was busy planning her first move when he spoke.
‘I’m going to alert the driver,’ he said quickly, his face chalky white. ‘We’re getting you out of here.’
McArthur pressed the intercom and explained that the prisoner was having a seizure. The truck came to a swift stop and they heard the driver exit, walk around the truck and open the side door. McArthur fired, shooting the driver square in the chest, knocking him backwards. This time when Mac spoke, he sounded like the man she’d known all those years. Her friend.
‘You’ve got about fifteen minutes before they start looking for you.’ He handed her a small pouch. ‘Retinal blockers,’ he explained. ‘At least you can walk the street. If you’re scanned it will flag you as unknown, so you need to be careful. Two alerts and they will close in.’
Jen was struggling to process all the information. Jim McArthur had been with her from the start, throughout her career. He’d always been there. His betrayal had shattered the foundations of that world, yet here, now, he was somehow trying to put it right. She looked at him and he smiled with a heavy sigh that bought his whole chest down. She reached over and placed her hand on his.
‘What about you, Mac?’ she said softly. ‘Can you come with me?’
‘I messed up, Jen,’ he said, his expression flat and cold. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Why? Why did you do it? What do they want it for?’
He looked round nervously. ‘We don’t have time for this.’
‘I have to know, Mac.’ Her look was enough.
Jim McArthur’s resolve deflated. In a matter of minutes half the British Government would be on her, but that didn’t matter. She wanted to know, and he had to tell her.
‘After your father stole the device, I was assigned to you, a sleeper mission. It was never supposed to go on so long. Jen, I never –’
‘But what made him steal it?’
‘The research your father conducted changed everything, and when Baden got hold of it… let’s just say he didn’t agree with their direction.’
‘Baden?’ Jen was missing the connection.
‘Government bought them lock stock. Not common knowledge, but they did, and some people made a lot of money. Your father could see it going wrong. That’s when he stole it, to stop them.’
‘From doing what? What did Baden want to do?’
As the question left her mouth she knew the answer. Baden technology permeated society, their name a part of the accepted fabric of modern life, but Jen was drawn back to one place specifically. A place where that logo had been etched on almost every piece of equipment.
‘The Hibernation chip,’ Jen whispered. The answers were banging at the base of her skull like small grenades, sending shivers through her. It didn’t yet make sense, but there was finally some truth to what Mac was telling her. A tuning fork was humming at last.
Mac was nodding. ‘Your father’s research into the Histeridae – it unlocked the human brain in a way no one could have imagined.’
His words lingered in the air between them.
‘Can you forgive me?’ he asked her eventually.
Jen didn’t hesitate. She hugged him tightly and the tears came again.
‘Fucking hell, Mac,’ she sobbed, squeezing him hard before he gently guided her away.
‘You need to go,’ he said firmly. ‘I did as you asked, now go.’
‘But what’s going on? Callaghan believed they’re searching us, searching our minds – did you know about that?’
A radio crackled into life and a voice drifted up from the guard lying on the ground in front of them. It was asking for an update on the alert they had just received.
Jim McArthur held her shoulders and spoke firmly. ‘Jen, they don’t tell me everything. All I know is that it involved your father but starts and ends with the Government and Baden.’
The screen next to him began flashing red and the vehicle alarm started shrieking. Jen jumped out of the truck. They had stopped on a gravel lay-by just off a main road. It was outer London somewhere, she wasn’t sure where exactly. In the distance, layers of circular roads towered above the city. Jen grabbed the guard and dragged him out of the view of the traffic streaming past, each commuter a potential witness, their minds imprinted with the scene and ripe for scanning. McArthur was out of the truck and leaning against the side.
‘Come on, Mac,’ she pleaded, grabbing a fob from the guard’s belt and clicking open her handcuffs. ‘You can come with me, we can figure this out!’
‘There’s no point running.’ He was smiling, but his eyes were glazed. ‘No point. I’ve been doing that my whole life. Calm on the exterior, running like crazy underneath. Well, not anymore.’ He sighed heavily. ‘I’m done. You’re stronger than me. You always have been.’
‘I’m sorry.’ It was all she could think to say, and in that moment she both loved and hated him. He was right. If she stayed any longer they would catch her again and all of this would have been for nothing. Jen kissed his cheek. Jim McArthur was always right.
She inserted the retinal blockers, turn
ed and ran.
Jim McArthur watched her, as he always did, until she disappeared from view. His body felt weak and he had a pain in his right shoulder. Stress, probably, or perhaps – he hoped – death would be kind enough to gift him a heart attack. He imagined Zitagi’s face when she heard the news of Jen’s escape. That flawless face would be rigid, teeth clenched tightly, eyes trying to contain fury. Zitagi hadn’t authorised the transfer; she knew nothing of his intentions to help Jennifer Logan escape. He smiled again. He’d managed to keep it from her, to help Jen, to give her another chance. Of course, it didn’t make it right – he knew that – but at least he had tried to make amends.
An incoming call appeared, Zido’s name blinking in the corner of his vision. Right on cue, he thought and ignored it. That woman. She’d had enough of his time.
Finally managed to stand up to her.
He looked down at the gun sitting heavy in his hand and wished he could have done more. He wanted to tell Jen everything, the whole plan, but they had run out of time. Always seems to be the way, he thought. We have our whole lives to tell people how we feel, and yet still we run out of time. He thought of his family, another part of the lie. He was very fond of them, as he was many of his colleagues. What a mess it had all become. He raised the gun to his head and decided his last thought would be Jen. She had been like a daughter to him. He hoped more than anything that she would forgive him. Her face filled his mind, moments they had shared.
Tears welled up in his eyes. She was a good girl.
Chapter 31
It was the afternoon of Christmas Eve. Thomas heard the knock again. He approached the door, nerves biting. His initial relief left quickly as Jen pushed past him, entering the apartment. The smell of sour sweat and fear accompanied her. She hunched over, hands pressing heavily on her knees.
‘What’s going on?’ Thomas asked.
‘I’m sorry.’ She was clearly exhausted. ‘Is he here?’
Thomas sighed and nodded. His fear was overtaken briefly by a pang of sadness. He only had a couple of clients like her, women he genuinely enjoyed spending time with. He supposed the sadness was a form of acceptance. She was in trouble and that meant their arrangement was over. It was a shame.
‘Yes, he’s here,’ Thomas replied quietly. ‘But this isn’t part of our deal, Jen, you know that.’
‘I know.’ She regained her breath and placed her hand on his shoulder and attempted a smile.
Nathan stepped into the hallway.
‘I wasn’t sure you were coming,’ he said, his tone cold. ‘Where have you been?’
‘Is it safe?’ Jen replied.
‘Yes, it’s in there.’ Nathan tipped his head towards the spare room.
Jen walked to the spare room and returned clutching a handful of credits.
‘What’s going on?’ Thomas glanced at the money and then back to her. ‘Are you kidding?’
‘It’s only for a couple of days.’ She pushed the money into his hand.
Thomas calculated it was roughly what he made in a month. It probably should have been more, considering what she was putting him through, but he liked her. Silence confirmed his reluctant agreement.
‘Can you give us a few hours alone?’ Jen asked.
Thomas glared at them both, his anger rising up. ‘This is fucked.’
He pushed past Nathan and grabbed a long coat from a rack behind the door. ‘I’m going to my parents’ for Christmas. Whatever you’ve done, I want you out of here in three days.’
Thomas lifted his packed suitcase and left.
Jen could tell Thomas had wanted to slam the door. It wasn’t like him to be so upset; he was always so careful and considered in everything he did. She felt bad for him. He was innocent in all of this. Not exactly a good man, but certainly not a bad one.
She turned and looked at David Shaw, who attempted a weak smile.
That feeling again. Something not right about him, something that didn’t fit. It had bothered her earlier but it was really nagging now. He was tall and muscular, attractive, yet seemed completely unaware of himself. Like he was wearing a mask. For all she knew he could be another of Zido’s goons, but even that didn’t add up.
‘When we were in that car park,’ he spoke in a sombre tone, his expression suggesting this was the first of a thousand questions bubbling under the surface. ‘That guy had you in his sights.’
He was right, of course. Her escape was impossible. Anyone watching would have known that.
‘Follow me,’ Jen said and walked towards the dining room.
In the hours since her escape, she’d planned her next move. Nothing was simple of course, there were so many things to consider, but one decision had come easily.
Trust no one. Literally, from now on everyone was under suspicion.
‘Wait a minute.’ He stumbled after her. ‘You need to tell me what the Histeridae Project is. That was the deal. Remember?’
They entered the dining room. It was bijou, small and beautifully decorated. Dark red walls lit by studded crystal lights, a gold circular mirror dominating the main wall. In the centre of the room was a dark mahogany table with facing chairs. Jen asked him to sit.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked nervously.
‘I’m going to show you.’
‘Show me what?’
There was only one way she could trust him. She placed her bag on the table.
‘You wanted to know what Project Histeridae is?’ She said, matter-of-factly, lifting the device on the table. ‘Well, here it is.’
Like anyone seeing it for the first time, he was immediately transfixed by the gentle rippling movement coming from within.
Jen said, ‘Now trust me and stay calm.’
Before he could respond she accessed the Histeridae, and its creeping tendrils appeared and began their search, drifting naturally in the direction of his active mind. The thought strands had come quickly this time, stronger, and she felt calmer, too. He couldn’t see the beautiful lights, the private showing her eyes were being treated to.
‘That’s the Histeridae?’ he asked, the fear in his voice obvious.
‘Yes. It wasn’t just a project name,’ she replied, learning to split her focus between talking and searching, her eyes fierce with concentration.
His aura, purple and blue, flashed brightly as the tendrils latched around him. She could feel his uncertainty and confusion. In the car park she had asked one simple question – and he hadn’t even known she had been there – this time she would go deeper and was determined to control the exploration.
‘What were you doing in my apartment?’ she asked, her voice like a choir in his mind.
She concentrated. Unintelligible chatter came first, as it had with Mac, inner monologue spilling from his mind in random bursts. Slowly ideas emerged, thoughts she could latch on to. She was right. Under his tough exterior he was scared and pedaling hard. The truth came like a child’s confession, a monologue without breaks.
< Until now, he hadn’t known what the Histeridae was. He was in her apartment to try and find out more about her. He wasn’t working for them, he was working alone, had been for some time. >
She could feel his heart racing and instructed him to close his eyes, to try and relax.
‘I can’t move,’ he said, his voice shaking and uncertain. ‘What are you doing!’
He tried to stand. She stopped him.
‘I need to be sure I can trust you.’
‘What the hell is this?’
Jen pushed a wave of calmness over him, trying to steer his emotions. He seemed to respond, closing his eyes. Jen did the same. It was dark. Not pitch black, though. There were flashes of red, of shapes.
Like a womb.
She began to see things, fragmented visions, as if remembering them for herself. They were his memories, flickering through her like Polaroids scattered in the wind. It was too much to take in, and suddenly feelings were surging through her, too.
Jen frowned
and concentrated, trying to slow down the manic carousel of imagery. It was important to stay calm, but that wasn’t easy. He mumbled something, this time sounding really scared.
Was he feeling these emotions with her?
The murder. The one he had said he was investigating.
It was his wife’s. She was beautiful. His true love.
Jen felt a sickening, crushing sense of loss. His loss. It echoed her own, but had different characteristics, not necessarily deeper, but Jen was sure she hadn’t felt anything like it before. There was anger, too. He didn’t like to show it.
Nathan.
That was his name – his real one. He was Nathan O’Brien, not David Shaw. Another rush of understanding, as if his mind were a hissing, pressurised container filled with details desperate to escape. The knowledge didn’t arrive in a familiar way, instead it came in waves. Tidal. Yes, that was it. The process was like the surf on a shoreline rushing in and then back, revealing hidden messages on the foaming sand. Nathan was afraid, scared all the time.
Jen’s heart was pounding. The deeper she went the more likely it felt she would lose herself. Her plan to ensure she could trust him had become a strange, invasive form of voyeurism. She wanted to release him, to pull away from his mind, but was struggling to differentiate her thoughts and emotions from his. She took a deep breath, trying to avoid the panic that was biting at her guts. She focused and tried to visualise leaving his mind, tried to bring back the feeling of entry but in reverse.
A vision arrived. She found herself looking up from the ocean floor at the distant sparkling surface above. She hated diving. For her, the relief of breaking the surface was tangible, of being back in a world where you belong after visiting somewhere forbidden. Escaping Nathan’s mind felt similar to that, except she couldn’t breathe. Panicked, she began to rise, ignoring the danger of the bends, leaving his thoughts, returning to her own singular state. Rushing, bubbling water became a single tear traveling down her cheek. Sucking in a gasping rush of air, she was back. She shivered and wiped the tear away. She wasn’t sure how long the process had taken, but the natural light in the room had dimmed. It could have been hours.
