Kymiera

by Steve Turnbull

  ‘I could.’

  He shook his head. ‘You’ll fight to the end, Chloe. You’ll fight even when you’ve lost all your reason and no longer understand what you’re fighting for.’

  And she knew he was right. She could say the words but she doubted she could go through with it.

  ‘Anyway,’ she said. ‘I have something I have to do.’

  Chapter 6

  Mercedes

  Mercedes was sitting in the conference room. Every now and again she would glance up and stare out of the window. The clouds streamed across the sky driven by the storm winds from the Arctic. Winters had never been like this before. Even if S.I.D hadn’t taken over the world, the weather would have, regardless. The changes had already been set in motion before the population was reduced to the point it stopped affecting the ecosphere.

  She looked back at the notes she had been making. At the top of her list was Banner. She liked Paul. She had been working with him longer than any of the others, but he was overstepping the mark. This latest mistake had the potential to lead either the police, or the Purity, right to their door. Next was Kingsley Upton. He just didn’t have the temperament. If it had just been a matter of ordinary everyday marketing, he was the right man for the job. But the extra stresses brought about by the nature of their activities were not doing him any good at all. Nor anyone else.

  Alistair McCormack. It was difficult to know what to do with him. He was brilliant, and he knew how to use his research facilities, but he was arrogant. Not only had he lost one of his senior research scientists, one of the guards was also dead. And both of them to the same asset. Clearly he wasn’t taking the necessary precautions. The only person she could trust to do their job properly, and not become overwhelmed by the difficulties involved, was Margaret Jenner. Unfortunately, she was the one that contributed least to the overall organisation.

  What it really came down to was what she was trying to achieve. And that amounted to saving the world. She laughed at herself; if that wasn’t arrogance, what was it? But the solution needed to be found to the S.I.D plague, and she was certain the secret lay in the work done by Dr Newman. They needed to acquire the assets in secret, before the Purity destroyed them.

  She glanced up again at the window. Was that snow?

  Ten o’clock came and the board members filed into the room. If they were surprised to see her there already they didn’t show it. They sat in their usual positions. There had been a time when they were chatty, but there was nothing to chat about now.

  Mercedes brought them to order, and went through the standard rigmarole for meetings. She couldn’t let them know she was deciding who was going to be leaving, but all of them, except Margaret, were looking worried. Mercedes sat back in her chair. ‘So, who would like to start?’

  There was a moment’s pause and then Paul Banner climbed to his feet. He reached into his pocket—Kingsley Upton actually flinched—but he only brought out an envelope.

  ‘I would like to tender my resignation from the board.’ His voice was as sensual as ever but now it was tinged with sadness. With a flick of his hand he sent the envelope spinning across the table. It slid up to Mercedes and wedged under her pad.

  Banner sat down. Mercedes extricated the envelope, looked at her name on the outside and then laid it down on the table. ‘Nobody is asking for your resignation, Paul.’

  ‘I fucking am,’ spat Kingsley. ‘It’s bad enough Alistair is losing staff to his assets.’ He said the word assets as if it had air quotes around it. ‘But this latest disaster killed three policemen, and we still didn’t get it.’

  Mercedes stared at Kingsley until he sat back and muttered, ‘Sorry.’

  ‘As I said, Paul, no one is asking for your resignation.’

  ‘I must insist.’

  Mercedes looked into his impassive face. ‘I think we both need time to think about it. Recent events are too fresh in our minds for us to make sensible decisions.’ She glanced at Kingsley and frowned slightly. He noticed, and sat back in his chair, although she was surprised to see he was looking a little pale, instead of the red-faced anger she was expecting.

  ‘In the light of that,’ she said, ‘would you mind explaining what happened from your viewpoint, Paul?’

  ‘We had alerted some of the gangs, the ones we’ve done business with before. We said we wanted Chloe Dark alive. And posted a reward for her acquisition.’

  ‘Which is why we had that ridiculous event at the chippy,’ snapped Kingsley before going quiet again under Mercedes’ glare.

  ‘Quite so,’ said Banner. ‘In retrospect, perhaps an attack on her home would have been better, but when she disappeared from the riffy grid we knew it was starting. On her reappearance in central Manchester we let our people know.’

  ‘But you knew there would be a large force of police there,’ said Mercedes.

  Banner nodded. ‘Yes, of course. We even had a good idea of where it was going to be, through intelligence received.’

  ‘And still you went ahead,’ said Kingsley.

  Banner sighed. ‘The pitched battle between the gangs and the police was a diversion. The idea was that we would get Chloe on her own and acquire her in the usual manner.’

  ‘Except it turns out she can fly.’

  Alistair McCormack shifted in his chair. ‘No, she’s not flying. She is only jumping. The records indicate extreme weight loss without commensurate health issues. I really want to see what’s going on inside her.’

  ‘Well, that’s the whole idea, isn’t it?’ said Kingsley. ‘Unfortunately, Paul couldn’t quite manage the acquisition stage. Again.’

  ‘No,’ said Banner, ‘we underestimated her again. But the parameters keep changing. When we try to use brute force it turns out she is a fighter. When we try to be clever, she pulls another trick out of the bag.’ He glanced at McCormack, who nodded.

  ‘All right,’ said Mercedes. ‘No need for recriminations or excuses here. I suppose there’s just one question we need answering right now. Assuming she’s not dead in the river, where the hell is she?’

  Chapter 7

  Yates

  On the sixth floor of the police building in central Manchester, the winter wind screamed and howled round the corners like a banshee.

  Or perhaps a herd of banshee, thought Yates. He wondered what the collective noun for banshee actually was. If there was one. It was only just past noon and the canteen had yet to fill up. Which had all been part of the plan.

  He heard the lift ping and the doors roll open. The short but generously rounded forensic scientist he knew and enjoyed squeezing appeared at the door. Ria MacDonald glanced round looking for him, and he stood up. She gave a little wave and pointed at the serving counters for the cafeteria. He nodded and sat down again.

  He watched her taking her time in deciding what she was going to have, though he couldn’t really understand why since it all tasted like shit anyway. But eventually she headed in his direction. He stood up again, stepped out from the table and took the tray. She looked confused as he placed it on the table, put his arms around her and kissed her very firmly on the lips. She didn’t pull away and when he finally lifted his head she was frowning.

  ‘Who are you and what have you done with DS Yates?’

  ‘Smile, my angel,’ he said. ‘There are witnesses.’

  Her eyes narrowed, but she put a smile on her face and gave him another quick kiss on the nose. ‘There,’ she said as she extricated herself from his arms. ‘I’m sure that’ll be tremendously convincing.’ She beamed a smile at him and giggled as if she had said something amusing. She sat down at her tray with him opposite.

  ‘I can’t believe I’m letting you do this,’ she said between mouthfuls. ‘God, this is better than the canteen at the labs.’

  Yates looked down at it with new eyes. ‘They must really hate you.’

  He had a few mouthfuls of what purported to be mashed potato; thankfully the over-flavoured gravy overwhelmed its unpleasantnes
s. ‘We had to have another reason to meet,’ he said.

  She paused in her eating and stared at him for a long moment. ‘I know you don’t bonk me for my brains, Harry, but I’m not actually stupid. Forensic scientist here.’

  ‘Well, what have you got for me then?’

  She leaned across the table. ‘The shoe had recently been worn.’

  ‘So there was somebody else living in the house?’

  ‘Well, there’s something living in the house.’ She took another mouthful and left him hanging.

  He waited.

  She swallowed. ‘I haven’t had time to do a full analysis, but the DNA from the shoe, it’s mostly human.’

  ‘Only mostly?’

  ‘There are some pieces that aren’t.’

  ‘S.I.D?’

  She was in the middle of a mouthful and shook her head. It was a frustrating few moments before she was able to answer. ‘Not S.I.D. But not entirely human.’

  Yates let that sink in. ‘Shit.’

  Ria smiled brightly. ‘I know, it’s great. This is something new, and you let me discover it.’

  ‘You can’t say anything about it.’

  ‘Reference my earlier comment about not being stupid,’ she said and smiled again. Yates liked her smile, it always carried a hint of lust. ‘Doing anything tonight?’

  ‘I would really love to, my sweetest darling,’ she said. He winced at her terminology. He reached out and took her hand in his, and then realised that felt really weird. He had honestly never been romantically involved with anyone, never indulged in handholding, or lovey-dovey in public, or anything that resembled the kind of pretence they were going through now. So reaching out and holding her hand, it was strange.

  Apparently it was strange to her as well because she looked down at the way his fingers were entwined with hers. ‘Your hand is bigger than mine,’ she said.

  He looked too. Her fingers were shorter but plumper than his. It almost looked as if he could enclose the entirety of her hand in his.

  ‘I think you ought to stop doing that,’ she said. ‘I’m not really sure I like it very much.’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ he said, ‘but what I was saying before, witnesses. We need to be really convincing.’

  ‘Love is a four-letter word,’ she said.

  ‘And so is lust. And I know which one I’m in. Why can’t you see me tonight?’

  She withdrew her hand from his and laid it in her lap. ‘This is not the kind of relationship where you can demand things from me.’

  ‘I understand that, but I thought you might fancy it.’

  ‘When I fancy it, I’ll let you know.’ With that she stood up, pushing her chair back noisily ‘I will not be taken for granted, so you can take your invitation and shovel it.’

  ‘Shove it,’ he said. ‘Take my invitation and shove it.’

  They burst out laughing. Silly movies had a lot to answer for.

  ‘Why can’t you see me tonight?’

  She leaned forward across the table, took his chin between thumb and forefinger, and put her face very close to his. ‘Because, my sweet darling, lots of people got killed last night, and their body parts are still strewn all over Tibb Street. Currently we forensic scientists are running shifts in order to clean it up, and make sure we don’t lose any evidence.

  ‘So, unless you want to come and do me out in the open, in a freezing gale, with the rest of the crew watching, we will have to postpone our little get-together.’ Then she kissed him again, which was nice, then turned round, and walked away carrying her tray. And he was able to admire her rear as it retreated.

  Chapter 8

  Melinda

  She felt awful again. The familiar blackness filled her eyes, while the lines of electrical current delineated the walls of her cage. The first thing she noticed was that she was not tied up. The plastic cuff around her left wrist had been removed. Her head ached. They must have drugged her again.

  So, the other two girls were here. Not that that seemed to be much help at all. Lucy was working for the other side, and Vanessa? Well, she was a bitch.

  If she wanted to escape she had to get past this Lucy. Should she try to get Vanessa out? Chances were she wouldn’t be very grateful. So maybe leave her?

  No. That was the wrong attitude.

  And once she got out? What then? She was a freak; she was going to die anyway, like the others were. If she ran, she might get shot by DI Mitchell. Her parents said there were fewer riffy towers in the countryside, if you could get there before they caught you. But winter was coming and it might already be snowing. She would probably be dead before spring, one way or the other.

  The lights came on. Melinda chose not to keep her electrical perception running. The wires faded into the walls. Being able to switch it on and off was useful, she thought. But what difference did it make? All freaks died.

  Melinda was somewhat astonished when breakfast finally turned up, because the guards were no longer dressed in rubber. They just wore uniforms. They also looked slightly nervous. And so they should, she could kill them with a snap of her fingers.

  She frowned. That really wasn’t the right way to think. Her parents had brought her up better than that.

  As far as she knew she had already killed two people, maybe three. It was difficult to feel anything because she did not really know what had happened and they were accidents. Even if they had been provoked. She needed to learn to control herself. She had her breakfast in silence. That hadn’t changed. When she was finished she heard the sound of someone else coming down the corridor, someone with official-sounding shoes, not rubber. He stopped at the door and looked in. Tall, thin, heavy jacket, long nose with wire-framed glasses perched on it, and a goatee. He was the stereotype of a university professor.

  ‘Miss Vogler,’ he said. ‘You will have noticed we have changed our security protocols.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said quietly. This was the first time one of her jailers had addressed her like a human being.

  ‘You encountered Vanessa yesterday.’

  ‘She told me to get lost.’

  He gave a small laugh. ‘I’m sure her language was a little more interesting than that, if lacking in imagination. However, that is not the issue. You see, we have finished our testing on her. She’s not very special, not like you, or Miss Grainger, come to that.’

  ‘Okay?’ Melinda had no idea where that was going.

  ‘It’s very simple,’ he said, ‘if you make any further attempt to escape or harm anyone else here, we will kill her. And it will be your fault.’

  Melinda stared at the man, trying to absorb what she had just been told. Suddenly he did not look like a professor at all. More like a hyena waiting for its prey to die. Did he really mean that? Would they really kill someone just to get her to cooperate? She didn’t know. But it wasn’t really something she could take a chance on. She nodded slowly.

  ‘Say it,’ he said. ‘Tell me that you will cooperate and you understand the consequences if you don’t.’

  She hesitated. ‘I understand what you said, and I will cooperate.’

  He stared at her for a moment then turned on his heel and left. She heard his echoing footsteps disappearing down the corridor, and could tell by the change in sound when he turned the corner at the end. She had promised to cooperate but, as her father said from time to time, a promise under coercion wasn’t binding. The threat of them killing that other girl, though, she couldn’t have that on her conscience. So whether her promise was real or not, she had to go through with it.

  Besides, if they were telling the truth, the promise was probably the only thing keeping Vanessa alive. If they hadn’t caught Melinda, she might already be dead. And dissected.

  The first session of the day was a return to the gym, but things went a lot quicker with people not having to wear rubber suits. The thing was, she thought, they seemed like ordinary people. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting but these were not evil scientists. They w
ere just doing a job. She noticed most of the monitoring equipment was labelled Utopia Genetics, but that wasn’t particularly surprising since they produced a lot of equipment for this sort of thing all over the North West.

  The other thing about the session was the addition of Lucy. She wasn’t doing any of the tests, she was just standing at the door, watching. Guarding?

  Seeing the other girl in proper light, Melinda felt sorry for her. Not only had she lost all her hair, but her skin was a hard and wrinkled grey colour. And a bump in her forehead.

  After an hour and a half, it appeared the researchers—was that what they were?—had acquired all the information they needed for the time being. With the tests and the exercises finished, she expected the guards to come and take her back to her room. But instead Lucy wandered over.

  ‘Come on, let’s get something to eat.’ Lucy reached out and clamped her hand on Melinda’s upper arm. Clamped was the only word Melinda could think of to describe the other girl’s pincer grip. And where she led, Melinda had no choice but to follow.

  Once out of the gym they headed away from the cells. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘We have our own canteen,’ said Lucy. Whatever happened to her skin didn’t seem to have affected her throat, as her voice was as light as you might expect any girl of her age to be. ‘We don’t share with the staff, they’d just be afraid of us, after all we are freaks. But we get our own space.’

  They followed a couple of corridors and went across an open foyer. It looked like it ought to be an entrance, but where you might have expected an expanse of glass onto the outside world, it was solid brick with no obvious opening.

  Across the other side of the foyer was a small room with a table and some chairs. There was a selection of fruit, water and sandwiches.

  Melinda followed Lucy’s lead and filled a plate. There was more than enough for the two of them. ‘Are there any others here?’

  ‘Only Vanessa, as far as I know, but she bites.’

  ‘Really?’

  Lucy gave Melinda a look that said everything.

  ‘Why are you cooperating?’

  ‘Same reason as you I should imagine: they threatened to kill her. Not that she’d be a loss to the world.’