by Hill, Will
The teenage boy who came here is gone, he thought. For better or worse, he’s gone.
“Lower your weapon, Lieutenant Carpenter,” he said, his voice level. Jamie did so as Turner stepped into the small room, instantly realising that Kate Randall wasn’t there.
“What’s going on, sir?” asked Jamie.
“Nothing you need to worry about, Lieutenant,” replied Turner. “I’m looking for Lieutenant Randall. Do you know where she is?”
Jamie frowned. “Kate?” he asked. “Isn’t she in ISAT?”
“If she was in ISAT, I wouldn’t be asking you if you knew where she was.”
“I don’t know where she is,” said Jamie, his eyes narrowing. “Have you run her chip?”
“Of course I have,” replied Turner. “Stay here until you are told otherwise, Lieutenant Carpenter.” He turned and headed for the door.
“Hey!” shouted Jamie.
Turner stopped and faced him. “What is it, Lieutenant?”
“Why don’t you know where Kate is?”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Turner. “Just stay here. We’ll be lifting the lockdown as soon as we can.”
“Don’t give me that,” said Jamie, fiercely. “I heard an explosion that sounded like it was on this level. So if something’s happened to Kate, you’d better tell me right now or—”
“Or what, Lieutenant Carpenter?” interrupted the Security Officer. “What exactly do you intend to do about it?”
Jamie stared at him, and Turner felt the usual mixture of admiration and irritation that filled him whenever he looked at Julian Carpenter’s son. Then the teenager’s face softened.
“Is Kate OK, sir?” he asked. “Just tell me. Did something happen to her?”
Jamie’s face was suddenly so full of obviously genuine concern that Turner felt his heart go out to him.
“I don’t know, Jamie,” he replied. “Someone put a bomb in her quarters, but I don’t think she was there when it went off. Her chip isn’t showing up, but the blast knocked out the monitoring systems on this level, so that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. I’m working on the assumption that she’s somewhere else.”
Jamie’s eyes had widened as Turner spoke. “A bomb?” he asked. “In Kate’s room?”
Turner nodded.
“Was anyone hurt?” asked Jamie.
“A girl from the Lazarus Project.”
“What was she doing in Kate’s room?”
“I don’t know, Jamie. She could have been planting the bomb for all I know. It detonated about nine minutes ago, so I don’t have the answer to every single question just yet.”
“So Kate has to be on this level?”
“That’s the most likely explanation.”
“Have you checked next door? In Matt’s room?”
“Yes. She’s not there.”
Jamie stared for a long moment, seemingly at nothing; for some reason, it was a moment that Paul Turner felt compelled to let him finish, even though he knew he should be on his way up to Cal Holmwood’s quarters by now.
Then Jamie broke into a small, sad smile. “I know where she is,” he said.
“Where?” asked Turner. “Tell me.”
The young Operator shook his head. “I’ll show you.”
The two men walked along Level B in silence, until Jamie stopped outside one of the hundred or more identical doors that lined the corridor. Turner read the number printed on the flat surface.
059
It felt familiar; he frowned as he stared at it. He had seen it before, that combination of three numbers, but couldn’t remember where, or why the feeling that they were important was rising through him. Then understanding hit him like a punch to the stomach.
This was Shaun’s room. 059. This was my son’s room.
Without a word, Turner reached out and ran his card across the black plastic panel. His stomach churned, he could feel blood pounding through the veins in his head, but he forced his hand not to tremble. The locks released and the door slid open. Jamie didn’t give any indication of movement, so he stepped forward and pushed the door wide, his heart full of a swirling mixture of longing and dread. It swung back against the wall of the small room, and Paul Turner found himself looking at Kate Randall, who was sitting on the edge of the bed that had once been Shaun’s.
It had been stripped down to the mattress, and the rest of the room was similarly bare; the bedside table and desk were clear, the wardrobe was empty, the walls had been given a fresh coat of whitewash. Once the Security Division had completed the mandatory examination that followed the death of any Operator, Shaun’s possessions had been handed to him in a single cardboard box. He had taken them home to his wife, placed them on the kitchen table, and let her see them; he had been unable to speak, to soften the blow for her in any way.
“Paul?” said Kate. “Jamie? What are you doing here? What’s going on? I heard something that sounded like an explosion.”
For a second or two, Turner just stared at her. Then he strode forward, pulled her to her feet, and enveloped her in a crushing bear hug. Kate laughed involuntarily, although her face wore an expression of confusion. “Hey,” she said. “It’s OK. What’s wrong?”
“There was a bomb, Kate,” said Jamie, softly. He was still standing in the doorway, watching the embrace taking place before him with a mixture of happiness and unease. “Someone planted a bomb in your room.”
“What?” asked Kate, her eyes flying wide. “Let go of me, Paul, for God’s sake. What happened?”
Turner released her, with obvious reluctance, and stepped back. “Jamie’s telling the truth,” he said. “An explosive device was placed in your quarters. It detonated when the door was opened.”
“Was anyone hurt?” asked Kate.
“A girl from the Lazarus Project,” said Turner. “Her name is—”
“Natalia Lenski,” said Kate, distantly. “Oh Jesus. Is she OK?”
“She’s going to be fine,” said Turner, and smiled as relief flooded Kate’s face. “She was still outside when it blew. The door shielded her from most of the blast.”
“What was she doing going into your room?” asked Jamie. “I didn’t think you knew anyone in Lazarus apart from Matt.”
“I don’t,” said Kate, sitting back down. “I’d never spoken to her until this morning.”
“Lieutenant Carpenter,” said Turner. “I’m going to ask you to step out into the corridor. This is an active Security Division investigation. I’m sorry.”
Jamie stared. “You’re kidding?”
“No, Lieutenant,” said Turner, holding out his ID card. “I’m not. Please step outside.”
Jamie fixed his gaze on the Security Officer for a long moment, then got up and took the plastic rectangle from Turner’s fingers. He used it on the black panel on the wall and stepped out into the corridor, casting an unreadable glance at Kate as the door swung shut.
“What happened?” asked Turner, as soon as the locks thudded into place.
Kate took a deep breath, and began to talk.
Kate took a deep breath and pulled open the ISAT security door.
Standing outside, perched on one of the Intelligence Division desks, was a tiny blonde girl wearing a white lab coat. Her pale face was tight and her eyes were wide and full of nervousness.
“Hello,” she said, walking over and extending a hand. “I’m Kate Randall. I was told you wanted to see me?”
The blonde girl nodded. “My name is Natalia Lenski,” she said. “I work downstairs, in the… well, you know…”
“I know where you mean,” said Kate, smiling. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too,” replied Natalia. “I have heard many things about you.”
“That’s nice,” said Kate. “I think. So what can I do for you, Natalia?”
“Can we go somewhere else?” replied Natalia. “Somewhere quiet?”
“Of course,” said Kate. “Let’s go up top for a few minutes.”
&nb
sp; I don’t know what the hell this is, she thought, but at least I’ll get some fresh air.
Two minutes later, the two girls walked through the huge double doors of the hangar and out on to the grounds of the Loop. Kate led Natalia across the runway and the wide field that lay beyond it, and into the rose garden that had been built in memory of John and George Harker, brothers who had died in the blazing wreckage of the Mina, the original Blacklight jet. At the rear of the beautiful, fragrant garden stood a wooden bench; Kate took a seat, motioned for Natalia to do likewise, and waited; eventually, the blonde girl spoke.
“I feel awkward coming to you like this,” she said. “I know you are very busy. But I cannot pretend that I am not worried about him.”
“Worried about who?” asked Kate.
“Matt Browning,” replied Natalia. “He is the one who speaks about you. He told me you are friends, yes?”
“That’s right,” said Kate. “Are you his friend too?”
“I think so,” said Natalia, a tiny frown creasing her forehead. “It is difficult. That is why I wanted to talk to you.”
“Is something wrong?” Kate asked. “Is Matt OK?”
“I am not sure,” said Natalia. She lowered her eyes and picked nervously at her fingernails. “He works so hard. It is like he carries everything on his shoulders, the entire Project. He cares so much, and he is so desperate to help his friends.”
“He told me what you’re looking for could take years,” said Kate.
“He is right,” said Natalia. “And I think it will kill him if it does. Robert has talked to him, tried to make him slow down, but he does not seem to hear.”
“Who’s Robert?”
“Professor Karlsson. Our Director.”
“Oh. OK. Go on.”
“That is all,” said Natalia. “I wondered if you might talk to him, make him see that he is being too hard on himself. Maybe he will listen to you, because you are his friend. And I… am not.”
There’s more to this, thought Kate, suddenly. There’s something else going on here.
“Natalia,” she said, gently. “Do you like Matt?”
“Of course,” replied Natalia, lifting her head and smiling broadly. “Everyone likes him. He is very popular.”
“No, I mean, do you like him?”
Natalia didn’t answer, but she blushed deeply, soft red suffusing her beautiful pale face.
There it is. Wow. This definitely won’t be complicated. Not at all.
“Right then,” said Kate, checking the time on her console. “We need to have a proper conversation about this. I have to go back to ISAT, but I should get some time off for lunch in about an hour or so. Can you get away for a little while?”
Natalia nodded.
“Great. In which case, why don’t you go to my quarters in an hour? If I’m not there, you can let yourself in and I’ll be there as soon as I can. We can talk about Matt.” She left this last comment intentionally ambiguous; she didn’t want to embarrass a girl she found herself already starting to like.
“Yes, please,” said Natalia. “That will be very kind of you.”
“No problem,” said Kate. “My quarters are on Level B, room 261. The override code for the door is 2TG687B33. Can you remember that?”
“I can,” replied Natalia.
Of course she can, thought Kate. She works for the Lazarus Project. She’s probably a certified genius.
“OK,” she said. “If I’m not there, wait for me. Now I have to get back to ISAT. Are you coming back inside?”
Natalia shook her head. “I will stay here for a little while.”
“OK,” said Kate. “I’ll see you downstairs. 261.” With that, she got up and jogged back towards the distant doors of the hangar.
“She should be in the infirmary by now,” replied the Security Officer. He got up and thumped on the door, and immediately heard the locks start to disengage. “Her pulse was strong, her heartbeat regular. She’s got some cuts and bruises, she’s lost some blood, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s broken a rib or two. But she’ll be fine. I wouldn’t have said so if I thought otherwise.”
“Good,” said Kate. Her face was almost translucent, as though the colour had been drained from her skin. “I would hate to think that… something that was meant…” She burst into tears as the door opened and Jamie walked back into the room. He frowned, and Turner stood aside as he went to her, sitting beside her on the bed and putting his arm round her shoulder.
“Hey,” said Jamie, squeezing her shoulders. “It’s all right. There’s nothing wrong with being scared, Kate. We’re all scared.”
“I’m not scared, Jamie,” she said, shrugging his arm away and looking at him with eyes full of fire. “I’m bloody furious. How dare they? Who the hell do they think they are?”
Turner felt something huge move inside his chest. I couldn’t love this girl more, he thought. No matter how hard I tried.
Jamie grinned at her and stood up. Turner stepped forward and took back his ID card as Kate got to her feet.
“What can we do?” she asked, her eyes shining. “Tell us how we can help, Paul.”
“You can help me by doing nothing,” said Turner. “This is a Security Division matter. I’m going to escort you back to Lieutenant Carpenter’s quarters and you’re going to stay there until we lift the lockdown. You will not tell anyone that we ever had this conversation; as far as everyone else is concerned, you were in Jamie’s room the whole time. Is that clear?”
The two Operators opened their mouths to protest, but Turner cut them off. “I’ve told you what I need you both to do,” he said. “So do you actually want to help, or do you just want to be the centre of attention, as usual?”
Kate and Jamie glanced at each other; something unspoken passed between them, something that Turner couldn’t read.
“Fine,” said Jamie. “We’ll go to my quarters.”
“Excellent,” said Turner. “I’m so grateful that you have chosen to obey my direct order. How very kind of you.”
Jamie’s face flushed, but he said nothing as the Security Officer stepped aside and motioned towards the open door; he walked through it without a word, Kate following behind him. Turner took a last look around the room that had been his son’s, a room that he had spent far too little time in when it had been occupied, and stepped into the corridor, closing the door behind him.
As the three Operators made their way back to Jamie’s quarters, Paul Turner asked the question that was burning away inside him.
“Kate,” he said, his voice low. She turned to look at him. “How did you get into Shaun’s room?”
She blushed a deep, delicate pink. Jamie didn’t so much as twitch; he continued to walk steadily down the corridor, his gaze fixed forward, and Turner felt gratitude.
“He gave me the override code,” said Kate. “I thought it would have been changed by now, but it hasn’t. I go there sometimes, for a bit of peace and quiet. And because… well, you know.” She smiled, a small, empty expression. “It feels like a bit of him is still there. Like it’s all that’s left of him. Do you know what I mean?”
Turner nodded.
I do. I know exactly what you mean.
Kate looked relieved and turned back to face in the direction they were walking. He stared at her, wondering whether to tell her that for a few awful seconds he had not recognised the number on his son’s old room. He knew she would not judge him, and it might prove cathartic to admit to someone what he knew in his heart: that he had not always been the father he should have. But he decided against it; it would not help Kate to hear him give voice to his self-doubt, to the guilt that ate away at him every night, when sleep refused to come.
“Has anyone checked out your quarters?” asked Cal Holmwood.
The Interim Director of Department 19 was sitting behind his desk, his fingers laced together, his chin resting against them. He looked tired, the deep tiredness that comes from more than just lack of sleep, that se
ttles into the bones and soul. Turner had been giving the Interim Director a preliminary report on the bombing and its aftermath, and had reached the location of the explosion when Holmwood interrupted him.
“No, sir,” he replied. “Why?”
“What if this is about ISAT, Paul? What if it has nothing to do with Dracula or Zero Hour? If so, Kate might not have been the only target.”
Turner stared at Holmwood. He hadn’t considered that. Why the hell hadn’t he considered that? He had been so caught up in trying to find Kate Randall that a motive for attacking her room had not really crossed his mind. He grabbed the radio from his belt and ordered Security Division Section B to make an immediate check on his quarters, exercising maximum caution.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “That should have been obvious. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Paul,” said Holmwood, firmly. “You’re doing the work of about five people and you’re trying to keep us afloat while we put ourselves back together. Give yourself a break. And continue.”
“Yes, sir,” he replied. “Most of the monitoring systems on Level B are still down, but we’ve had a preliminary report from Surveillance. Their cameras don’t show anybody entering or exiting room 261 since Operator Randall left it this morning, although the door does appear to open and close on two occasions. The device itself appears to have been made from readily accessible ingredients, detonated using the charges from standard-issue grenades and triggered using parts from a standard-issue radio handset. I’m afraid that’s everything we have right now, sir.”
Holmwood breathed out, deeply. “Not much to go on,” he said. “Are you prepared to draw any conclusions at this time?”
“Nothing that I can back up, sir,” replied Turner. “But one explanation does suggest itself.”
“What explanation?”
Turner opened his mouth to answer, but a loud buzzing from his radio interrupted him; he looked enquiringly at the Interim Director, who nodded. The Security Officer thumbed the RECEIVE button on his radio and said, “Go ahead.”
“Operator Grant, Security Division Section B reporting in, sir,” said a crackling voice. “An explosive device was attached to the door of your quarters. We’ve disabled it and sent it to the labs for analysis. Over.”
