by Robin Bootle
‘What’s going on?’ Ingrid scowled as he reached the bottom step. ‘You’d better not be getting yourself into any trouble.’
The words It’s nothing never made it past his lips. He should have guessed who was waiting outside. Mr Hound stood on the doorstep, shirt untucked from his black trousers. ‘Sir? What are you doing here?’
‘Edward, this is very serious. You need to come with me.’ Mr Hound glanced to one end of the street and then quickly to the other.
‘Sir? Why didn’t the police come themselves?’
The sound of cars swerving down the road drew Mr Hound’s attention. ‘They’re here! Quick, come with me!’ He went to grab Edward’s arm.
‘Who’s here?’ Edward pulled away and nipped into the bay window. His eyes widened at the sight of two black saloons tearing towards them, one from either side. ‘Sir,’ he said, as he made his way cautiously back towards the door, ‘what’s going on?’
‘Please, there’s no time to explain. Tartarus has been compromised!’
The word Tartarus ricocheted down Edward’s spine. He was certain it was somehow related to how Vanderboom had caused the accident – a virus, or some kind of malicious code, but again, any proof had eluded him. But to pay it undue attention would be to give himself away. ‘Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Quickly!’ Mr Hound took hold of his arm. ‘To my car!’
‘Let go of me!’ Edward whipped his arm free and slammed the front door. It bounced back. Mr Hound’s shoe was poking in at the bottom. ‘Go away!’ He turned to run as Mr Hound thrust open the door and lunged inside. ‘Stay away from me!’
‘Get out of my house!’ Ingrid jumped from her chair and collided with Mr Hound as he chased after Edward. The two of them collapsed in a heap. ‘Get off me! Get off me!’ she squealed.
Edward bolted through the kitchen, down the short garden path and barged shoulder first through the back gate. Fifty feet to his right, a man in a black suit was hurrying towards him while speaking into a microphone pinned to his shirt.
‘Stop!’ the man shouted.
Edward swerved left. A van veered towards him at the crossroads only twenty yards ahead. He could see that the driver – a man with slick white hair and glasses – had already spotted him and looked alarmed, as if aware that something was wrong.
‘Help!’ He leapt into the middle of the road. The driver slammed on the brakes. Edward tumbled to the ground as the front of the van narrowly skidded past his face. He glanced back, but the suited man was nowhere to be seen.
The side door of the van flung open, revealing two men in black masks, and two pairs of arms reaching out to grab him. The sound of a gunshot filled the air. One of the masked men recoiled, a tear in the shoulder of his shirt. The other leapt back inside the van, unable to spot the shooter.
Edward’s instincts pushed him to his feet. He kept his head low as he hurtled past the van. He had to get away. Anywhere but here. He was a few yards past the van when the suited man jumped out and grabbed him, locking his arms around Edward’s chest. ‘Don’t struggle! We’re here to help!’
‘Let go of me!’ He thumped the man in his groin. The man’s grip loosened just long enough for Edward to break free. He reached the crossroads but wasn’t halfway across when his path was blocked by a black saloon screeching to a halt. The door swung open and before he could decide which way to run, someone lunged at him from behind and shoved him head first into the car.
He forced himself upright as the car’s acceleration pinned him to the back seat. Through the rear window, the masked and suited men were exchanging heavy blows.
‘Are you the son of Richard Founder?’
Edward spun to face the front, his jaw agape. The driver, dressed in a dark suit, peered at him through the rear view mirror. ‘Who the hell is Richard Founder? And who the hell are you? Let me go!’
The driver’s head tilted back to the road. Edward struggled with the door handles and kicked at the blacked-out windows but nothing would budge. The few passers-by seemed oblivious to his cries for help.
‘Try to relax,’ said the driver. ‘We’ll be there soon.’
‘Be where?’
But the driver didn’t answer.
3
The NCCU
He sat with his arms folded across his waist and his back hunched in a foetal-like position. The room was bare and dimly lit. The dolphin-grey walls, white ceiling and white floor formed a perfect cube. In front of him, two white plastic chairs sat behind a white plastic table.
The locking mechanism on the door disengaged and a man and a woman entered. He recognised the man as the one who had driven him here. The woman, who looked like she could only have been nineteen, approached the table. Her auburn hair reached down to touch the shoulders of her white blouse. ‘My name’s Elizabeth Eve.’ She sat down in the chair opposite and leaned forward with her arms on the table. ‘How are you feeling?’
Edward didn’t respond. He had been attacked, shot at and kidnapped. It should have been apparent he was not feeling good.
Dressed in a suit, the man leant against the back wall of the room with his arms folded. He was broad, olive-skinned and had a rounded nose. A shaven scalp masked his receding hairline. He was yet to speak or even offer a nod of acknowledgement.
‘Who are you people?’ asked Edward.
‘This is a National Cyber Crime Unit facility in Vauxhall,’ replied Elizabeth.
Edward shuffled uneasily in his chair. ‘Why am I here?’
‘We know someone tried to contact you during the attacks.’
‘Who says anyone tried to contact me? There must have been thousands of Edwards in school this morning.’
‘But it was you they were after, wasn’t it?’ The man at the back spoke coolly, as though he knew exactly what was in Edward’s mind. ‘Maybe it was your father? Your brother even?’
Something exploded beneath Edward’s ribs, his heart rocking his chest plate. The man was so confident in his assertion. But how could he be? It had to be some kind of game. Some kind of test. Edward peered into the shadows, determined to sound unfazed. ‘You’re mistaking me for someone else. I don’t have a brother.’
‘We know who you are, Edward. The son of programming genius Richard Founder.’
‘I told you, I don’t know any Richard Founder.’
‘We know you hacked into your school’s servers. Is that how you started the attack?’
‘What? No! I didn’t have anything to do with it!’
‘What do you know about the substitute teacher who ran your physics class this morning?’ Elizabeth’s soft voice and the change of subject came as a welcome relief.
‘Mr Hound?’
Elizabeth nodded.
‘I’ve never met him before. Did you know he came to my house? Is he involved somehow?’
‘We saw him but he disappeared somewhere out the back.’
‘But you know who he is?’
Elizabeth didn’t respond. So that meant she did know but she wasn’t going to tell him.
‘What about the men in the van? Why did they try to take me?’
‘I can’t be sure. What I do know is that the man who drove the van is a known criminal. He calls himself Marchosias. You should be thankful we got to you before he did.’
The hairs on his arms and legs stood on end. He’d been so preoccupied by his current predicament that he hadn’t stopped to think what the other men who tried to grab him might want with him. But to be thankful for where he was? ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’ He wrapped his arms around himself. ‘I wish you’d all just leave me alone.’
‘Any idea why anyone would be so interested in you?’ asked the man in the shadows.
‘Aren’t you the ones who are supposed to tell me? Why am I even
here? Vanderboom’s the one who caused all the chaos this morning – him and his bloody VirtuaWorld.’
‘But the attack didn’t come from VirtuaWorld, did it?’
Silence, for a moment.
‘The name Extropia mean anything to you?’
Edward’s whole body seemed to twitch. They don’t know anything, he told himself, or they wouldn’t be asking. He glared again towards the back of the room. ‘No. I’ve never heard of it.’
‘Then how come, less than an hour later, you were in your bedroom, trying to open communication lines between yourself and Extropia?’
His fists clenched beneath the table. His eyes closed and his head bowed. How could he have been so careless? It was a nationwide attack; he should have known someone would have been watching.
‘It’s no secret how much you despise Vanderboom. You, more than anyone, have a reason to see VirtuaWorld fail, don’t you?’
‘I told you, I haven’t done anything wrong!’
‘Edward, it’s okay. I know how it must have felt.’ Elizabeth drew his attention back to her pretty green eyes. ‘After what Vanderboom did to you, all you were trying to do was get justice, wasn’t it? We know why you changed your name, why you hid away, to get away from it all.’
It was the first time anyone had ever expressed sympathy for his claims versus Vanderboom’s. He wanted to let it all out. To scream. To tell her she had no idea how it felt. Losing his brother and father. Having to stand alone against the man who had killed them. Now living day to day, too afraid to let anyone get close. No one anywhere could know what that felt like.
He realised he was rocking slowly back and forth, his arms folded across his waist and staring at the table in front. He had to get hold of himself. He sat upright, placing his sweat-ridden palms on the table. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
The man at the back of the room finally stepped out of the shadows. ‘This isn’t a game! Whether you like it or not, this morning your father’s creation, Extropia, attacked every school in the country!’
Edward glanced up but struggled to look the man in the eye. He felt himself rocking again but could no longer stop himself.
‘Someone in Extropia contacted you! Who was it? Your brother? Your father? Who attacked the schools this morning?’
Again Edward stared at the centre of the table but this time with purpose, focusing intently on its white surface as he tried to block out the barrage of screaming that came from in front. What did they want with him? Why were they making impossible claims about the family everyone knew to be dead? Was it all just an exercise to get him to admit who he was? ‘I haven’t done anything wrong,’ he muttered.
‘Look at me when I’m talking to you!’ The man slammed both hands down on the table directly where Edward was looking. ‘Your father was behind the attacks this morning, wasn’t he? Answer me, goddamit!’
‘No!’ Edward locked eyes with the man and his words came out in a spit of venom. ‘That’s impossible! He’s dead! They’re both dead!’
He glared at the man for seconds that seemed like hours, until slowly the man straightened his back, turned and walked back into the shadows. Edward’s head dropped, the realisation of his admission setting in. They had won. It was over; his secret was out. But instead of the fear he’d expected, of being scrutinised, of being harangued, he felt a sense of relief. He didn’t need to lie any longer. But there was more than that. Somewhere inside him, it felt good. Even if just for a passing moment. To tell someone who he really was. To finally tell someone what had happened to his brother and father.
He sighed, wiping away a tear that had gathered in his eyes at the sudden release of stress. ‘So you see, I really don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. My father died a year ago. And since you know who I am, then you must know what happened to him as well. So, please, whatever game you’re playing, can you just drop it?’
Elizabeth got up, walked to the back of the room and whispered into the man’s ear.
Now for the first time, he could see that the man at the back looked uncomfortable, pushing himself away from the wall as he nodded with two simple words. ‘Tell him.’
‘Tell me what? What’s going on?’
Elizabeth walked back to the table and sat down, a sense of unease in her eyes. ‘Edward, do you remember the night your father and brother died?’
Of course he remembered. How could anyone forget a night like that? ‘There was a storm. I saw them, floating…’ He paused and lowered his head. Why torment himself by recalling those images again? ‘Before long, the house was full of people. I was ushered away before I even knew what had happened.’
Elizabeth looked him straight in the eye. ‘The thing is, Edward…’ She paused, glancing back to the man as if seeking reassurance. Her gaze returned to Edward. ‘What I’m about to tell you won’t be easy to understand.’
He raised his head just enough to make eye contact.
‘Your brother and father, they…’ Her lips half opened, parting and closing several times as if stuttering in silence. When she spoke, her voice was soft, her head leaning in and her hands reaching out for his. ‘They didn’t die that night.’
He stared blankly at her, paralysed by disbelief.
‘Edward, they’re still alive.’
4
The Puffer Fish
His legs felt like they would crumble at any minute. His head was filled with a thousand questions and yet he couldn’t think. Could it really be true? He’d seen them dead in their ports. He’d been to their funeral. He’d watched the mud shovelled over their coffins.
Two dead in bizarre accident. Every paper had reported them dead, on the front page. He’d never questioned it. Why would he? The police too had told him they were dead.
If they were alive, they would have come for him.
He stood next to Elizabeth as the ticker on the elevator dropped to sublevel one, the realisation setting in that he could only be falling deeper into some elaborate, twisted game. Some cruel attempt to extract more information about the morning’s events.
‘Control,’ the female voice of the elevator announced as the silver-coloured doors slid apart to reveal a small room. A man and a woman sat opposite each other at a bank of DeskTops three times the size of the ones at school. They both looked up as he entered the room. On the far side, images and data filled the screen of a TeleWall.
He felt so out of place, a schoolboy surrounded by government agents in some underground, high-tech facility. He was supposed to be at home right now, moping around in his room, playing some aimless computer game as he waited for life to pass by. For the best part of a year he’d wished there was another way – that he didn’t have to be alone – and now here he was, wishing only for solitude.
‘Your brother and father are through there.’ Elizabeth indicated a small metal door to the right. ‘Are you ready? I’ll understand if you need more time.’
He stared at the door’s plain surface. Whatever was on the other side, it wasn’t James and Dad. They were six feet under. ‘Look, I don’t know what you want from me, but I haven’t done anything wrong. So just let me go, all right?’
‘Oh, Edward, I can’t begin to imagine how this must all appear. To believe your father and brother dead for so long—’
‘I saw them buried!’
She took a deep breath before carrying on. ‘There’s no easy way to put this… Let me just say that… things weren’t quite as they seemed that day.’
He gawped at her, incredulous. Whatever she was saying couldn’t be real. But she kept on.
‘You have to understand, when the NCCU found your dad’s ports, no one knew what they were. No one knew how to get in, and even if they had, no one wanted to, not with your father and brother trapped like that. Vanderboom himself claimed they were d
angerous, that he didn’t know what had gone wrong, so they labelled the case top secret. Oriel decided it was best for social services to take care of you until we’d worked out what was going on. You’d already disappeared by the time we realised we needed you.’
Her hand reached for his own and he glared at her, ready to push her away.
But instead, he melted. He remembered her in the holding cell, before she told him the lie. She’d been on his side, protecting him from the man in the shadows. And here she was, begging him to believe her, water in her eyes. He turned to face the door and said, ‘Show me.’
She stepped forward and tapped in a code. The door buzzed open. His whole body seized up as if protecting itself from an incoming blow. His eyes locked on his feet, unwilling to look inside.
One step at a time, he forced himself to creep forward. Gradually, he raised his head. Each breath stuttered and lasted no longer than a heartbeat. A blue glow began to flood his pupils. His head filled with a year-old image – lights flickering onto listless, floating bodies.
And there they were. The four ports stood in a row, just as they had the night of the accident. The oval glass doors on the right two were sealed, the tanks filled to the top with the same thick blue gel. Small, slow-moving bubbles glistened in the ports’ overhead lamps, the light casting shadows across their faces. Their eyes were closed. Their bodies hung motionlessly in a sea of blue.
Dad and James.
His hands shot to cover his mouth and nose as a silent scream gasped to escape his lungs. ‘They’ve been here, all this time?’
‘The night of the accident the NCCU brought them here, an abandoned facility at the time.’
‘How can you just leave them there?’ he cried, barely recognising his own, choked up voice. ‘Why haven’t you taken them out?’
‘We tried. We disconnected them but they remained in a coma. Instantly, they struggled for breath. Their heartbeats became dangerously erratic. They were fighting to stay alive. We didn’t know what else to do, so we reconnected them – and they were okay again. Now the SenseGel, the blue liquid, is what keeps them alive, feeding them nutrients and water.’
