The receptionist smiled at Linwood as she entered the antechamber to Kingston’s office and offered to get her a drink. She asked for a tea and sat waiting for her boss to be free. She settled her briefcase down and wondered what Kingston would make of the letter inside. Writing it had not been easy but after all that had happened, she didn’t feel that she could continue as things were. TALOS had struck at the heart of their operations and shown them that once again, they were unprepared for what was beyond the stars.
Dates for the formal inquiry had yet to be set and Linwood was finding it difficult to reconcile her choices with what had happened to the Faceless. Activating the kill switch had had repercussions beyond Winborn’s office. They’d found the bodies of the Faceless around the TALOS Institute and in the surrounding woods over a course of three days. It would be a difficult process in identifying who these people once were—if it was possible at all. According to the TALOS records, they’d collected the correct number of bodies—every Faceless that had been at the leisure centre was accounted for.
But what if there were more of them out there? Had they really caught all of them?
Kingston appeared at his office door and invited her inside. He’d changed as well. They all had, but his transformation had been the most significant. Sure, he’d had plenty of field action before taking the Director General role, but he’d never been exposed to the madness that MI18 routinely had to face back in the day. A physical change had manifested. Something about the way he hung his head ever so slightly, and there were more lines on his face today than the last time she’d spoken to him in this office.
“How you doing?” he asked.
“I’m fine.”
A nod, then he slipped in behind his desk and took a sip of his coffee. “Did Emily ask if you wanted a drink?”
In answer, the door opened and his secretary walked in with a cup and saucer. She placed it on Kingston’s desk and left the room.
“Have you found Department 5?” Linwood asked. A team of twenty-five people had been seconded to the TALOS Institute. So far, they’d found none of them. Kingston shook his head.
“It’s like they’ve vanished. All records relating to them have been wiped from the system. We’re rebuilding what we can from our intelligence but they’ve been thorough.”
“Any idea what they’re planning?”
Again, with a shake of the head. Linwood had wondered about the sense in having Department 5 staff working off-site with such a mysterious organisation. And now the sense of it was being questioned in a terrible way. She hated to think there might be those in the security service who would turn traitor, but so far, she had to remind herself, they were just missing. It could mean any number of things. Not least that TALOS might have disposed of them as an inconvenience.
“We’re questioning the TALOS staff that we have. They’re remarkably tight-lipped about what they experienced. From what we can tell, Winborn ran a highly siloed operation. It was the norm for people to not know what was happening outside of their own section. Their culture was one of not asking for fear of reprisals. If they’re all telling the truth,” he bent towards her conspiratorially, “and I don’t for one minute believe that they are, it’s possible that only a handful of people knew what Winborn was doing with the nanites and the swarm.”
“And what of the building itself? What did you find?”
“Deserted. There were several more holding cells of the like Max and Jaq were being kept in. There are still a few labs we haven’t been able to enter yet. Security features we’re unfamiliar with and I’m not prepared to risk the rooms’ contents by forcing our way inside.”
“So who’s in charge of the facility now?”
“I’ve got the military in there. A temporary measure. How is Max?”
She’d been ready for the question but it still surprised her at how swiftly he moved on from the TALOS issue.
“He’s being monitored. He was infected with the silver prior to the Jodrell Bank Incident but chose to hide that information from us.”
“And his other changes?”
Linwood shook her head. “I don’t know. He doesn’t know. I can only guess that’s partly what Winborn was trying to establish. Max is safe. We’re keeping a close eye on him.”
“And DI Payne?”
“I’m keeping a close eye on him as well.”
“Is he going back to the force?”
“He’s not decided.” Truth was that she’d spoken to Payne a lot since the showdown at TALOS and the man was not the same either. He was reluctant to divulge his intentions and Linwood decided not to press him.
“And what are you planning to do next?”
“I haven’t decided,” she said.
He nodded, then from his top drawer, he took out a file and dropped it on the desk. Linwood glanced at it, saw that there were photos inside and asked what it was.
“Open it,” Kingston suggested.
She pulled the file close and picked it up. Inside were three photographs. The one on top was instantly recognisable as Erik, the man who’d met them at the hotel and warned them about what was happening at TALOS.
The other two, one middle aged, the other much older, seemed familiar to her, but she’d never met them.
“This is Erik,” she said. “The others I don’t know. Why do you have this?”
“We’ve been doing more digging around TALOS. My predecessor in this position gave them far more leeway than I would have. I looked into who the original directors of the Institute were and came across this bunch. Three of them. They’re all related. Erik, Henrik, and Davin Oster.”
So that’s why they looked familiar. They were related.
Kingston continued. “But they aren’t seen much in public. They are unusually reclusive for directors of a research institute. You’d think they’d be out there, securing contracts and courting politicians. But they’re rarely out—and seen together, hardly ever.
Linwood noticed something and flicked her eyes across all three photographs. “The briefcase,” she said, “they’re all holding identical briefcases.”
“What of it?”
She narrowed her gaze. “Seems odd.”
Kingston shrugged. “That would be the least odd thing about them. Their entire histories are fabricated and up until twenty years ago, we can’t find any photographic evidence of them at all.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re living a lie. All three of them.”
“They’re not Osters?”
“I don’t know if they’re called Oster or not. But for three men to create false identities and then establish an ultra top secret research lab and seek out government deals...”
Erik had been an odd character. It was almost as if he was playing at being mysterious. Awkward and slightly geeky. He was not her idea of a man who could be a director of the most important research facility in the country. It explained how he could give them such easy access to the buildings but it didn’t answer her most pressing question.
Why?
If he was concerned about what was happening at the site why did he seek help from Linwood? Why didn’t he contact the authorities directly? Why didn’t he confront Winborn? It suggested that he knew what was going on, but he wanted someone else to deal with the problem. Person or persons expendable.
“Have the Osters been in contact with you yet?”
“They’ve communicated via telephone. I’ve tried to arrange a meeting to discuss the military presence at their site but they seem unfazed by it. I’ve also discussed something else.”
He looked her squarely in the eyes and spoke: “I’d already considered setting up a replacement team for MI18, and I’m confident that that is the way to go. We need a team that can operate on the fringes. And I’d like you to lead it.”
Linwood couldn’t help but smile. The news was the best thing she’d heard in a long time, too long a time. Leading a new MI18 team. The idea was so tantalising but now
that it was a genuine tangible thing, she felt suddenly nervous.
“We don’t have a headquarters. The Tombs is too badly damaged to be of any use. Maybe if we got it fixed up...”
“There’s no time for that. I need you operational immediately. I’ve arranged for the team to be based out of TALOS for the time being. Whilst you’re there you can investigate what else Winborn was doing with their resources. See if you can locate your artefacts and get into those labs.”
“But I’ve always hand-picked my team.”
“And you can again. As long as they’ve got security clearance, I’m happy with your selection.”
Linwood was having ideas. She could see the shape of a team in her mind. What it might look like. It would be risky, she knew that, but if they wanted to make an impact quickly, it was the best solution.
“If you’ll excuse me, sir, I’ve got some calls to make.”
73
12th June 2013
Payne looked at his friends and tried not to think of what lay underneath the surface of the lake they were sitting beside. Nixon and Carter had joined him outside the Lakeside Pub on the Promenade, the closest pub to the Marine Lake, the hiding place for the Tombs. The sun was out, and the people were out too. Payne hated the heat but loved the light and seeing people making the most of a lovely afternoon after such a horrendous few weeks lightened his mood considerably.
And it had needed lightening.
Nixon exited the pub and carried over three pints to the picnic table. He set them down, then picked his up and took a sip. A moment, then a horrified look of realisation dawned on Nixon’s face and he reached for Payne’s pint.
“I’m sorry. I forgot. I’ll get you something else.”
But Payne reached for the pint, picked it up. “It’s OK.” That first sip was forbidden. The next friendly. His last drink had been on the night Anna had died.
Nixon and Carter watched him drink and didn’t say a word. Both of them knew what this meant, and neither would acknowledge it.
“To us,” Payne said, raising his glass to the light and then chinking it against his friends’ lifted glasses.
“To us,” they repeated.
They set their drinks down.
“When are you coming back to work?” Carter asked.
It had been a week since he’d shown his face in the office and despite several phone calls from Taylor, Payne was no closer to making up his mind about his position. Taylor had made it clear to him that he should take a break. Now that the Faceless threat had been dealt with, and with no outstanding murder investigations, he could afford to take some time off and ‘regroup’. His team had also been offered time off. Carter was planning on visiting family in Scotland, but Nixon so far hadn’t taken the DCI up on the offer.
“I honestly don’t know. Soon, I guess.”
“You’re thinking about Linwood,” Nixon said.
“What do you mean?”
But he was only being awkward. Payne had been thinking of little else. His eyes had been opened wide since the first Faceless murder and working with Linwood had been interesting. Hell, who was he trying to kid, there was more to it than that. He took another sip of his pint, then surprised himself after setting it down by how much he’d already drunk.
“I mean, whatever you’re thinking of doing next, you shouldn’t be running back to Linwood.” Nixon looked away hurriedly, his tone had been condescending but Payne knew it was unintentional.
Payne laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to run anywhere.”
“But you can’t deny the possibility of getting more involved hadn’t crossed your mind.”
More involved? Payne raised an eyebrow.
But Nixon hadn’t finished speaking. “Only, it’s because of Linwood and her people that we got dragged into this mess. Her people were a bunch of screw ups and they were doing things behind her back that got a lot of people killed. And besides, you can’t trust her. We know nothing about her.”
Carter put her hand on Nixon’s arm. “Easy,” she said, gently.
Payne sought eye contact but Nixon turned away, feigning interest in the sailboats practising on the lake. He didn’t need to answer. It was the one thing holding him back from making a call right now. How could he ever separate the lies from the woman?
“Listen, Stuart, whatever happened with the Faceless was always going to happen. No one could have prevented it. Linwood was doing the best she could to stop the Faceless from spreading and she risked her life to do so. We all have. Hell, how many police officers do you know that have taken an active role in stopping an alien invasion?”
Nixon smiled a little at that. Good. It was true.
“If you believe all that, why aren’t you talking to Linwood?” Carter asked.
Payne didn’t answer. He’d run out of things to say, but luckily the moment was broken by his mobile phone ringing. He pulled it out from his pocket, checked the display, then hesitated, his thumb hovered over the answer button.
Nixon looked at him, a frown etched on his face. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”
74
12th June 2013
It had felt like forever since he’d last stepped foot inside his own house. The Max back then was a different person. He’d changed now, and he knew it, in more ways than just one.
As he crossed the hall and entered the kitchen, he had a vision of Cindy kneeling in front of one of the kitchen cupboards, cleaning like her life depended on it. That had been the night she’d discovered his affair; the night he’d been arrested for his mistress’s murder; the night his life flipped upside down.
The house was stuffy, the air stale and dank. He opened a window and closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the gentle breeze.
There were men outside his house, waiting for him in a car. Watching his every move. They’d given him his freedom, but it had been a lie. Ever since he’d been released from the hospital, they’d stuck a tail on him and he imagined them settling in for the long haul now.
It occurred to him then that they might have done something else.
Max spent the next hour wandering around his house, unscrewing light bulbs and checking behind light switches. By the time he’d finished, he dropped three tiny devices onto the kitchen table and wandered out to sit on the back step. The garden was overgrown and needed tending to. He’d hated doing it when he was married to Cindy, and now that he was widowed, things weren’t about to change.
Since they’d left TALOS, he’d been having dreams. And these weren’t just the terrible dreams he’d had in the days after Heather’s death, these were dark and confusing. It always started with the light show at the top of the Lovell Telescope and ended with him lying on the grass in front of the dish. The dimensional schism, they’d called it as if they knew what that meant.
They should try travelling through one.
Where did that idea come from? This was happening more and more often—ideas he didn’t recognise as his own, taking centre stage.
No one could travel through one of those, surely.
Only, he knew that he had. The dreams weren’t just dreams. They were bigger and more real. They were memories.
But he didn’t have a clue what it all meant.
He thought he’d get in touch with Payne. They shared a common experience and it might be good to unburden himself with someone who understood.
There were always his parents. He could ring them. They might be interested to hear why he’s been quiet lately.
Shaking his head, he closed his eyes and leant against the wooden frame of the door. Take each day as it comes, he told himself. You don’t need any more surprises.
From somewhere inside the house, he thought he heard the phone ringing. He ignored it and carried on dozing.
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Also by Robert Scott-Norton
Tombs
Operation Snowflake
The Face Stealer
The Faceless Stratagem
Tombs Rising
The Remnant Keeper
The Remnant Vault
The Infinity Mainframe
Standalone
The Drifter and other Stories
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