by Tony Batton
Then she realised there was one thing she could confirm: how and when Tom got home. London now had CCTV everywhere and a quick walk past Tom's apartment block revealed two possible sources of the footage she needed. Normally, it would have meant trying to make a public access request or involving the police, either of which would mean a significant delay. Instead, she had called Keith.
Now they were parked across the road from Tom's apartment, using a parabolic dish to attempt to piggy-back on the carrier frequency of the cameras in order to follow the encrypted data tunnel back to the storage media - at least that was how Keith had explained it. Kate was reasonably tech savvy, but this was delving further under the hood than she normally went.
"That's odd," he said suddenly. "I've located the file storage. But the period from Friday to Monday has been wiped."
Kate blinked. "You mean there's a fault?"
Keith tapped at his keyboard. "It can't be a malfunction; the data either side is perfect. It's been excised and deleted."
"Who'd have the capability to do that?"
"Someone like me," he said with a smile. He jabbed frenetically at his keyboard again. "Only they're not as good as I am. It wasn't properly wiped. Usual story, deleting a file just wipes the name and meta-tags. The actual content is still there until overwritten."
"And you can locate it?"
"Maybe..." He narrowed his eyes. "Yes. I think I have it." He switched on another screen. A camera view appeared, looking down the street, past Tom's front door. "OK, this is 8am on the Friday morning. Is that your boy, leaving in his suit?"
Kate peered at the screen. "That's him."
"When do you want to view next?"
"He was at the party until at least 9pm, so let's fast forward to around 11, and view from there."
They watched a very long time, skipping through in 2-minute chunks. Friday night turned into Saturday turned into Sunday. Still nothing.
And then finally they found it.
At 3am on Monday morning a white van pulled up outside the apartment block. Moments later a group of men carried a limp figure to the front door. Two men stood on guard as another opened the door and then they all disappeared inside.
"Let me see if I can enhance," Keith said. "See if we can make out some faces." He rewound to just before the figure was taken inside, tapped at some keys; a filter scrubbed across the screen, then again. The image sharpened. He zoomed in on the face of the unconscious figure.
"That's him," whispered Kate.
Keith restarted the footage. Nothing happened for ten minutes, then the door opened and the men left. They watched it all in silence, then rewound it and watched again.
"If that was when he came home, where was he all weekend?" asked Kate.
Keith looked pale. "What are you sticking your beak into here? These look like serious people."
"You've done your part. I'm the one with her neck on the line."
He shook his head. "If you run this story, I'll come to the attention of whoever it was - and they'll want to know how you got the footage."
She gave a snort. "That's not going to be happen. Besides, it's too late to be having second thoughts. We made a deal."
"Is your guy OK?"
"It seems that way."
"Well, that's something." He reached forward and typed something on his keyboard. Progress bars immediately flicked up.
"What are you doing?"
"Deleting the footage, obviously. And I'm doing it properly."
"No!" She stood up but he quickly jabbed another key and the computer screen locked. "Why would you do that?"
"A basic sense of self-preservation."
"I need that footage. It's very important."
"It's already gone."
Kate took a step forward, her eyes narrowing. "Re-download it from the system."
"I wiped the original too."
She cursed, sweeping the computer onto the floor.
"Hey!" Keith shouted, making to get up. A murderous look from Kate kept him in his chair. "I thought you were a reporter: isn't this just a story for you?"
"Tom Faraday was abducted and you've just deleted the best, if not only, evidence."
"You can still tell him what you saw."
Kate ran her hands through her hair and then sighed. "With your systems, can you tell if he's in the apartment?"
"I've been parked here all day, tracking everyone in and out. He's inside the building, so I'd presume he's in the apartment."
"And his flat mate?"
"She's out. Left two hours ago."
"Then I'm going to speak to him. There are things he needs to know."
THIRTY-FOUR
TOM STARTED UP HIS MEDIA player, then leaned back on the sofa and let out a contented sigh. He'd shared a quiet dinner with Jo before she went out to her evening climbing class, and now he was sipping a glass of mineral water and doing his best to relax.
His thoughts strayed idly to Kate. He could picture those sharp blue eyes like they were still in front of him, and he found himself wondering if her interests went beyond trying to headhunt him. But perhaps it was best if he kept things simple. He didn't need any more excitement for a while. Things finally seemed to be going back to normal: a bit of boring old normal was just what he needed. He was feeling better: no dizziness and the headaches had gone. It was time to focus on his new job... and perhaps indulge in a little binge TV watching at home. He grinned as Episode One of the X-Files started, something Jo had always said he should watch.
Although, if what he'd heard was true, the truth wasn't out there.
There was a loud knocking on his door. He frowned. Visitors had to ring the main bell to get access to the building before they could even reach his level. The X-Files theme music started playing and he looked around for the remote, but it was nowhere to be seen. The knocking repeated.
"Shut up already!" he shouted at the screen. As if in response, it went dark. He stared at it for a moment then moved to the door. "Who is it?"
"It's Kate. I need to talk to you."
He pulled open the door, and saw her standing, looking determined. "How did you get into the building?"
"I followed someone else. Can I come in?" She stepped past him without waiting for a reply. "We need to talk about what happened to you." She looked around. "I know how you got home after the party. And it was not under your own steam."
Tom blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"
"You were brought back by a group of men. I've reviewed the CCTV footage from cameras in the street and--"
"How did you see that? Are you with the police?"
"No. I'm a reporter."
Tom stared at her. "So meeting with me was all a ruse?"
"I was trying to get a story on CERUS."
"But you were on the recruitment company website."
She waved her hands. "It's a cover ID."
Tom folded his arms. "So, are you going to show me this footage then?"
"It was deleted before I could copy it."
"How convenient! So I'm just supposed to believe you? Right after you just admitted lying?" He shook his head. "I should have guessed when you mentioned Richard Armstrong's name."
"I got your name from Armstrong – well, indirectly. He said he'd spoken to a new lawyer at CERUS and I thought--"
Tom's brow furrowed. "Why were you speaking to Armstrong?"
"He was about to go whistle-blower on activities at CERUS: he was helping me write a story about them restarting intelligent nano research. Then he died."
"And, what? You're saying he was murdered? And I was kidnapped?"
"Functional nanotech could be worth billions. And you have to admit that what happened to you is difficult to explain."
"Life sometimes is, but I'm fine now. I've been checked over by the very best doctors."
She frowned. "What was the clinic you went to?"
"It's called the Angstrom. I've looked it up since and it's got a top reputation. Are you suggesting t
hey're in on it now? Whatever it is. What about CERUS? Them too?"
"You should go to the police."
"With what? Your claims about some missing CCTV footage and a few half-baked conspiracy theories?" Tom closed his eyes. It was like there was a faint buzzing in his head: an itch somewhere inside. The ceiling lights flickered.
Kate glanced up. "I want to help you, Tom."
"And I think you should go," he said. "If I want your help, I'll ask for it."
THIRTY-FIVE
ON WILLIAM BERN'S COUNTRY ESTATE, Bradley watched as Celia drew back on the compound bow, her balance and form showing that this was not the first time she had practised archery. She released, the arrow speeding through the air, flexing and humming, before thudding into the target, some twenty-five metres away. It struck the outer bullseye.
Celia turned to face him. "I imagine it's William's head, so I never miss." She paused. "Although there are other possible targeting options."
"Remind me not to annoy you."
"You need to be reminded?" she said, hefting the bow and nocking another arrow.
"Probably not."
She raised the bow and fired in a single motion. The arrow struck, almost touching the first. "In which case remind me why we're meeting today. You weren't due to give me an update."
Bradley held up a large envelope marked 'Confidential'. "William has some documents he needs you to sign." He frowned. "Now I think about it, he was very clear he wanted me to come and oversee your signature. Do you think he has suspicions?"
She shook her head. "If he knew then we wouldn't be in any doubt. What are the documents about?"
"I'm just the messenger," he said with a shrug, "so I'd appreciate it if you didn't shoot me."
She gave a snort and placed the bow on a stand then strode over and took the envelope. Tearing it open, she removed a sheaf of papers. As she flicked through, a smile crossed her lips.
"Hilarious. He wants to transfer a number of assets into my name." She shook her head. "You know, it's no fun if he loses through stupidity."
"I imagine he thinks he's protecting himself. Because he thinks he can trust you."
"Then I suppose he is exactly where we want him. I'll sign these in a moment, but while we're out here, away from any microphones in the house, do you want to give me an update?"
"The four subjects have been implanted. Chatsworth informed us this morning that Stage One is complete."
"No complications?"
"The doctor seems on top of it. The four subjects are in an induced coma, ready to be moved from the clinic to the special facility at the Tower. Stage Two is next."
"After which we'll know if it works?"
"We should. Ed Holm keeps saying that the code is new and very rushed, but, as I understand it, it's built along similar lines to a number of other projects that CERUS has developed. He's simply patched in the helicopter protocols."
Celia frowned. "I don't like that these volunteers are getting caught up in all this."
"There was no other way. The buyer needs proof of viability. Without it he won't pay. But there's no doubt Leskov needs this product and he has no practical alternatives. As long as we deliver, he'll pay."
"We need to be ready to move quickly when the time comes. If we give him any room to manoeuvre, he'll use it. How about that Richard Armstrong man? Will that affect things?"
"He wasn't part of the project so it shouldn't impact our timelines, though now I'm sounding like Peter Marron."
"I didn't realise he was involved."
"Do you know him?"
"He's worked for my husband for more than twenty five years. I know he's officially head of HR but I think he manages most things that William needs managing."
"Except for getting your signature on documents," Bradley said ruefully.
"Putting things in writing isn't really Marron's style," she said.
"Joking aside, is he likely to be a problem?"
"He just does what William tells him. It's William who provides the vision and that has always been the problem."
"Not for much longer."
"No," said Celia, with a smile. "Not for much longer at all."
THIRTY-SIX
FOR THE FIRST TIME IN a long time, Kate woke up before her alarm, too much on her mind to sleep. Within minutes, she was dressed and on her way to the office.
She left her car close to the entrance and made her way through security, the guard looking mildly confused to see her so early. She got to her floor then moved quickly across the office, her mind gearing up to plug in her laptop and check her emails, but she didn't even make it to her desk.
"My room, now!" barked Geraldine, appearing out of nowhere.
Kate forced a smiled onto her face, followed her in and closed the door. "Is something wrong?" She negotiated her way between the stacks of company reports to the metal-framed seat opposite Geraldine's desk.
Geraldine lowered herself into her worn chair. "You agreed you would keep me updated. How did you get on with verifying those nanites? "
"I got distracted with something else. Unfortunately, it didn't work out."
"What did you do?"
"I went direct to the CERUS lawyer, Tom Faraday. But it's all come to nothing. He doesn't want to be involved, even when I told him I had proof he'd been abducted."
"I said talking to the lawyer was a waste of--" began Geraldine. "Wait, did you say abducted?"
"I saw the aftermath on CCTV, when they were returning him, unconscious, to his apartment. The trouble is the person who was helping me access the footage deleted it when he realised that it could be dangerous."
Geraldine rubbed her temples agitatedly. "Well, there goes our evidence, though I suppose the nanites might yet check out." She opened a desk drawer and pulled out a card file. "Not to mention that I found out two things that could help us."
"How? I searched every online resource we have access to – and a few we don't."
"Call me a traditionalist," said Geraldine, pointing at the nearest pile of company reports, "but sometimes paper records are best. I went through the printed archives and I found a reference to a project cancelled by CERUS twenty-five years ago. It was called Tantalus and there was mention that people had died during testing. Officially nothing was ever confirmed and the relevant internet archives seem to have been stripped."
Kate rubbed her temples with her index fingers. "So what was the other thing you found out?"
"That the Angstrom Clinic has a surprising benefactor – one it took me hours of digging to uncover."
"How do you know the name of the clinic Tom went to? I never told you any of that!"
"I worked out which A&E he was taken to, then called in a favour with a doctor at the Royal London. They told me where he was sent on to."
"So who was the benefactor?"
"CERUS."
"You mean they donate to the clinic?"
"I mean that, hidden in layers of shell companies and secret trusts, they own it."
Kate's eyes widened. "So a company that we believe has done human testing sends one of its employees to a clinic it runs. And doesn't tell him."
"That's what it looks like."
"And they've tested something on Tom? Why would they do it?" Kate shook her head. "What was this Tantalus project about?"
"The file didn't say."
"If we're right, I know where the evidence must lie. In Tom. Surely a doctor not in their pay will be able to find some trace of it."
Geraldine snapped her fingers. "And I have a contact who can help with that." She pulled out her phone. "Get Tom ready. I'll tell you where to go tonight."
"How do I persuade him? Do I tell him the truth?"
"Tell him whatever you need to tell him."
Kate nodded, then a smile crossed her face. "Actually I think I know how to make this work."
THIRTY-SEVEN
TOM STEPPED FROM THE BUS across from Regent's Park as the sun was setting, casting a blood red gl
ow on a row of terraced houses. The wine bar where Jo had asked him to meet her was right alongside: a modern, minimalist-decor place with exposed roof beams and a dark, polished floor. Jo waved from a table near the door.
"What's the occasion?" he asked as he sat down, seeing that she was already pouring him an oversized glass of Shiraz.
"Does there have to be one?" she asked. "I haven't seen you properly for days. Thought it would be nice to have a chat somewhere other than the apartment."
"It's just you usually have some plan. You're not trying to set me up with someone, are you?"
She held up her glass. "I wouldn't be that mean to anyone I know."
He gave a snort.
"So how are you?"
"Been at work all day today, and not one episode of falling unconscious and going to hospital to report."
She frowned. "So now it's a big joke? Are you really not going to try and find out more?"
Tom sighed. "That's what you want to talk about?"
"After our last conversation, you can't be surprised."
"I did try, but on balance I think I'm going to forget about it."
"So what did you find? Anything on the work security cameras?"
"Work was really helpful, but the footage wasn't. Too blurry to tell me anything and lots of cameras weren't even working."
Jo pulled at her ponytail. "In a brand new hi-tech building?"
"They've had teething troubles. Not exactly uncommon."
"Maybe they wanted to look like they were helping, but didn't help at all."
"OK, here come the conspiracy theories--"
"So you're giving up? Weren't you going to tell them what happened? Or go to the police?"
"I've thought about it some more and I really don't think I want to go there. I took drugs, Jo."
