by Gemma Malley
Pip was peering at him. ‘You!’ he exclaimed, his voice full of surprise.
‘Yeah, me,’ the young man said. His face was dirty; his eyes alert.
‘Who are you?’ Peter demanded. ‘What are you doing here?’
The young man stared at him. ‘I’m here to get that girl out. The one with the red hair.’
‘But who are you?’ Peter was staring at him, his mouth wide open.
Jude bit his lip. ‘I’m Jude . . .’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘I’m your half-brother.’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It took a few seconds for Peter to digest what Jude had said, then, bewildered, he could do nothing but stare uncomprehendingly at the dirty, dishevelled young man sitting on the floor.
‘Half-brother?’ he said eventually, staring at Jude in disbelief. ‘Then you’re . . .’
‘Stephen Fitz-Patrick’s son,’ Jude choked. ‘Jude 2124 at your service.’ He tried to throw his shoulders back but his chest hurt and his throat had seized up. He’d rehearsed this speech, this meeting, so many times in his head – now he couldn’t say anything, all he felt was pain.
‘What are you doing here, Jude? I thought I told you to watch yourself?’
Jude stared at Pip in disbelief. ‘What?’ he asked incredulously. ‘I’m helping, in case you didn’t notice. You should have accepted my help before, too, when I offered.’
Pip shook his head, his expression serious. ‘It was for your own good. And us. You know you’re under surveillance by the Authorities?’
‘Jude 2124?’ Peter’s face was still blank with incomprehension, confusion.
‘My cipher,’ Jude said, standing up and dusting himself down. ‘And I can handle Authority surveillance, thank you very much. Guards here thought they could lock me up. Look how that turned out.’ He shot Pip a triumphant glance.
‘And you know Pip . . . ?’ Peter asked.
‘Yeah,’ Jude said, coughing violently. ‘We’ve met.’
‘And you never told me?’ Peter swung round to Pip.
‘I didn’t want to confuse you,’ Pip said quietly. ‘Not when there was already so much at stake.’
Peter turned back to Jude. ‘You’re really my brother? You’re the one who . . .’ He stepped forward, his eyes wide. He reached out tentatively as if to touch Jude, but he pulled back.
‘Yeah,’ Jude said. ‘I’m the one who . . .’ He shrugged. ‘You know . . . who ruined your life.’ He threw a defensive look at Pip.
Pip looked at him curiously. ‘So it was you who caused the blackout? How did you even get in here?’
‘I told you. The red-haired girl. She’s in Unit X. I came to rescue her.’
‘You know about Unit X?’ Pip’s eyes were flickering, as though calculating some difficult equation in his head.
‘Yes, I know,’ Jude said. ‘I saw those guards grabbing Peter. I watched you on the security cameras . . .’
‘How?’ Peter demanded. ‘The cameras aren’t working. Nothing’s working.’
Jude allowed a small smile to creep on to his lips. ‘Sure nothing’s working. But when you’re the person who stopped things working, you tend to know ways to get them working again.’
‘I don’t understand.’
Jude rolled his eyes. ‘Mainframe’s in the ceiling. Put it on emergency mode and you can still operate the cameras, only one by one. It’s a default security measure.’
‘Can you get it working again?’ Pip asked immediately.
Jude nodded, casually. ‘Don’t need to, though. It’ll come on by itself in a while.’ He turned back to Peter, his eyes earnest. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m really sorry. For everything. I’m the reason you were a Surplus.’
‘Don’t be stupid, it wasn’t your fault. Why didn’t you contact me before?’
‘I couldn’t. I didn’t know what to say. I was afraid you’d . . . I was afraid.’
‘Yeah? Thing is, I’ve always wanted a brother,’ Peter said quietly.
Jude grinned. ‘Me too. This is so cool.’
They stood silently, for a few seconds, then Peter turned to Pip. His mind was racing but he knew he had to focus. ‘Anna,’ he said. ‘We have to save Anna. Now.’
‘And the other girl,’ Jude said firmly. ‘We have to get her too.’
‘We?’ Pip turned to Jude. ‘There is no we. This is a job for the Underground, not an amateur.’ He looked at Peter. ‘We’ll get Anna. Then you must get out of here. Both of you. I and my men will deal with the girls.’
‘I’m not going anywhere.’ Jude folded his arms. ‘Not until that girl’s safe.’
‘Me neither,’ Peter said firmly. ‘I’m going to get Anna out and then I’m going to speak at this press conference.’
‘You can’t stay for the press conference,’ Pip said, his eyes staring directly into Peter’s. ‘You have to get out. We have to get you to safety – it’s too dangerous here.’
Peter shook his head. ‘It’s too dangerous not to be here,’ he said quietly. ‘I have to stand up to him. I have to stop him . . .’
‘But –’
‘But nothing, Pip. I’m going to do this, whether you like it or not.’
‘Me too,’ Jude said firmly.
‘See, Pip, there is a we.’ Peter held out his hand; Jude shook it firmly.
Pip shook his head in defeat. ‘Very well,’ he said softly. ‘But you do exactly as I say. No heroics, understand?’
‘Loud and clear,’ Peter said gratefully. ‘And I’m sorry, Pip. About the other night. I’m sorry I didn’t listen, sorry I didn’t believe you.’
‘Sorry?’ Pip smiled. ‘You don’t need my forgiveness. I’m simply a relic from the past who will soon outlive his usefulness, who can be too cautious, too untrusting, who closes doors which . . .’ he looked over at Jude . . . ‘which perhaps should have been kept open. Although I reserve judgement on that.’
‘You’re not a relic,’ Peter said, allowing himself to grin in spite of the tension. ‘Not quite yet.’
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dr Edwards looked up at the door hopefully.
‘Peter?’ he called. ‘Come in. There’s no need to knock.’
Peter appeared through the doorway; next to him, a guard stared at him intently.
Dr Edwards’ forehead crumpled into a frown. ‘Peter? Is everything OK?’ He looked at the guard. ‘Did you get lost on the way back here?’
Peter stepped forward. ‘Dr Edwards, I need your help. We do, I mean.’
‘Help?’ Dr Edwards said curiously. ‘Of course. What can I do?’
Peter cleared his throat. ‘I . . . Anna’s in trouble. She’s here. And . . .’
‘Here?’
‘She’s locked up.’ Peter’s face was pale. His fists were clenched and the muscles around his neck were tense. Dr Edwards frowned at the guard.
‘Would you leave us?’ he asked.
The guard shook his head.
‘I see.’ Dr Edwards stood up, took a deep breath and looked back at Peter. ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand. Why on earth would Anna be here?’
‘It was my grandfather,’ Peter said, looking at him intently. ‘He tricked her. He sent Catchers after her . . .’
‘Catchers? But she’s Legal. Peter, please sit down. I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation –’
‘Was there a perfectly good explanation last time you challenged Richard Pincent?’ the guard asked suddenly.
Dr Edwards turned. ‘I’m sorry? Are you talking to me?’
The guard nodded. ‘You know as well as I do that Richard Pincent is a dangerous man. And you know as well as I do that there are things going on within these walls. Things which Richard Pincent would do anything to protect from prying eyes. Even if it means imprisoning Anna. Blackmailing Peter.’
‘Blackmail?’ Dr Edwards’ eyes widened. ‘Who are you?’ he asked the guard. ‘Who is this man?’ he asked Peter.
Peter stepped forward. ‘He’s . . . a frien
d,’ he said tentatively. ‘He’s come to help me.’
‘A friend?’ Dr Edwards faltered slightly. ‘He’s . . . He’s not a guard, is he?’ he said, his voice a whisper now.
Peter shook his head.
The man turned his gaze to Dr Edwards. He had the most incredible blue eyes. Dr Edwards thought he remembered eyes like that from somewhere, but it was impossible. Those eyes . . . they were from another time.
‘You questioned Richard Pincent’s methods and you were sidelined because you didn’t like what he was doing. Now Peter thinks you’ll help us. To be honest, I’m not sure you’re up to it, but we don’t have many options here, so what’s it going to be?’
‘It is you,’ Dr Edwards said suddenly. ‘It’s . . .’
‘Pip, I go by Pip now. We studied together, you see, Peter,’ Pip said levelly, still holding Dr Edwards’ gaze. ‘Many years ago. Dr Edwards was always top of the class. Cleverest scientist of his generation. And since there weren’t many more generations, that makes him one of the cleverest men alive.’ The way he said it didn’t sound like a compliment.
‘You were a scientist?’ Peter looked at Pip incredulously.
‘I used to be,’ Pip said flatly. ‘And now,’ he said, addressing Dr Edwards, ‘now you’re working at Pincent Pharma. Only you’re not really, are you? I mean, ReTraining. It’s hardly a prestigious post, is it?’
Dr Edwards blanched slightly. ‘Training is important. Imparting knowledge . . .’
‘To who? There’s no one to teach,’ Pip said. ‘Not any more. You’ve been pushed out of research into semi-retirement. Isn’t that closer to the truth?’
‘I chose to leave,’ Dr Edwards said firmly. ‘No one was pushed out of anything.’ He faltered slightly, reached out to his desk to steady himself.
‘And now you’re fully involved in the development of Longevity+? You know what it is they’re doing?’ Pip’s eyes were boring into Dr Edwards’ and he felt beads of sweat begin to form on his forehead.
‘No . . . I mean . . . it’s highly secret.’ Dr Edwards thought uncomfortably of his visit to the lab technicians that afternoon – a visit in which his former colleagues had been evasive, even secretive. A few years ago, he’d have challenged them, tried to discover the truth; now he barely even noticed, had lost the will to even care.
‘So secret that you, an eminent scientist, are being kept out? So secret that you haven’t even been invited to the press conference this afternoon?’
‘Press conference? No, that’s not my field. That’s not . . .’ He cleared his throat, forced his shoulders back. ‘I don’t expect to be kept informed of press conferences. I train people, I train the scientists of the future. I prefer it that way.’
‘The scientists of the future or the accountants of the past who are bored of their old jobs and looking for something to fill their time for a few years?’ Pip asked. His voice was softer now and more compelling for it.
Dr Edwards’ shoulders sagged slightly. ‘ReTraining is a good initiative,’ he said weakly. ‘It enables people to reinvent themselves, to reinvigorate their careers.’
‘He’s a great teacher,’ Peter said suddenly. ‘Pip, leave him alone. It isn’t Dr Edwards’ fault about Anna or the other Surpluses. He didn’t know.’
‘Other Surpluses?’ Dr Edwards asked. He felt his chest constricting.
‘You remember,’ Pip said levelly. ‘That was what you disagreed with Richard Pincent about, wasn’t it? The use of Surpluses?’
‘He said they wouldn’t . . . He said . . .’ Dr Edwards said weakly.
‘I’m sure he did,’ Pip said. ‘I’m sure he said a lot of things.’
Dr Edwards frowned uncomfortably and turned to Peter. ‘You say Anna’s in danger? What sort of danger?’
‘He says she’s going to prison. If I don’t sign the Declaration, I mean. He’s got her locked up. Dr Edwards, please, we need your help.’
‘My help? But what can I do?’
‘You can stand up for what you believe in,’ Pip said gravely. ‘Help Peter to save Anna. Attend the press conference and tell the journalists anything you know. I have men downstairs who can help you, who can get you to safety afterwards.’
Dr Edwards could feel his legs trembling beneath him ominously. He hadn’t spoken out for a long time. A very long time. Then he nodded. It had been too long, he realised. It was time to make amends. ‘Very well,’ he said quietly, picking up his lab coat. ‘If I can help to stop this . . . Then yes, of course.’
Chapter Thirty
‘How are we going to do this?’ Peter asked anxiously. ‘Even if we can get Anna out of her cell and the Surpluses out of Unit X, how will we get them away from the building?’
‘There’s a back entrance, where the lorries come in. It’ll be manned, but we’ve got men in the basement waiting for my signal,’ Pip said calmly. ‘And as for the Pincent guards, they’ll be concentrating on the front of the building. There’s a press conference in an hour or so, remember. You and Peter focus on getting Anna to the back entrance; I’ll arrange to have my men meet you with transport.’
‘Transport? Here? How? Nothing will get through,’ Dr Edwards said. ‘All the roads will be blocked.’
Pip smiled wryly. ‘Nothing? Oh, I doubt that. I imagine that Anna might enjoy a jaunt on the river. What do you think?’
Peter felt the familiar reassurance and gratitude that the Underground existed, that they were on his side. He’d missed that feeling; felt guilty for having doubted Pip.
‘What about the Surpluses?’ he asked.
‘Leave them to me,’ Pip said firmly. ‘Jude and I will look after them.’
‘Good luck,’ Dr Edwards said. His eyes met Pip’s for a second or two, a bond of trust passing between them, a pact, and then they both turned to Peter.
‘Ready?’ Pip whispered.
‘Ready,’ Peter whispered back, as Dr Edwards opened the door.
Dr Edwards had never been to the services corridor at the back of the building – the rooms were largely store cupboards, workrooms, areas where men in overalls usually roamed with large hands covered in dirt and grease. He looked over at Peter, who met his eye and nodded tightly, before dropping back. Dr Edwards continued down the corridor, barely daring to look anywhere but straight ahead. And then he stopped. The light was dim but Dr Edwards could see the guard Pip had told them about, sitting outside Room 48, his expression one of intense boredom.
A mild feeling of discomfort made Dr Edwards slow down slightly. He hated confrontation, hated challenges unless they were written down in academic papers and read out at seminars. Perhaps Pip and Peter were wrong, he found himself hoping. Perhaps there was a perfectly reasonable explanation after all.
Taking a deep breath, he approached the door and smiled at the guard. ‘May I?’ he asked, holding his hand towards the lock.
The guard shook his head. ‘Only Mr Pincent and the doctor’s allowed in there,’ he said firmly.
The feeling of discomfort became more intense, and Dr Edwards stepped back. ‘But I am a doctor,’ he said. ‘I’m Dr Edwards.’
‘Only Dr Ferguson’s allowed in,’ the guard said flatly. ‘And he’s been in already.’
‘Dr Ferguson?’ Dr Edwards managed to keep the smile on his face at the mention of a man he despised. A man he’d been under the impression had left Pincent Pharma years ago, never to return. ‘So, he’s back, is he?’
‘Never went away, so far as I know.’
‘Indeed.’ Dr Edwards took out his identi-card. ‘Well, you should also know that I am Head of ReTraining at Pincent Pharma, and that I am here to see the girl on a matter of high importance.’
The guard looked at his card. ‘No one said anything about ReTraining. I’m afraid you can’t go in.’
Dr Edwards caught the guard’s eye and nodded curtly. ‘Then I shall have to call Mr Pincent. Even though he has asked not to be disturbed. Can you tell me your guard number please?’
‘Four-three-one,�
� he said. ‘And you call him. I know my orders.’
‘Four-three-one,’ Dr Edwards said, his heart pounding in his chest, every hair on his body standing erect. He took out his phone, pretended to call Richard.
‘Yes?’ said Pip at the other end.
‘Mr Pincent. I wish to see the prisoner. Would you mind sending order to the guard please?’
‘You’re stalling,’ Pip replied. ‘You’ve got the stun gun. Use it.’
‘Thank you,’ Dr Edwards said. ‘I’ll wait here.’
The guard looked up. ‘I’m going to get the order, am I?’ he asked.
‘Any minute now,’ Dr Edwards said. His hands were trembling as he took out the gun. The guard was looking expectantly at his walkie-talkie; he didn’t even have time to look up before the sedative took effect.
‘Peter,’ Dr Edwards hissed, but Peter was already beside him, having watched the whole thing.
‘Get his key.’
Dr Edwards moved towards the guard tentatively, pulling him on to his side. And then something made him retch. There was blood. On his jacket.
‘It’s a stun gun,’ he said, his voice a whisper. ‘Pip said it was a stun gun. Why is he bleeding? Why would he . . .’ He felt the guard’s pulse – nothing.
Immediately Dr Edwards fell to his knees. ‘I killed him! I killed a man.’ His hands were in his hair, his brain racing with shock, with incomprehension.
‘You killed a guard,’ Peter corrected him. ‘And there’s no time for this. Come on, we have to get to Anna.’
Peter pulled the keys from the guard’s belt loop and opened the door then heaved the body through it; Dr Edwards, still in a state of shock, helped him. The room was dark except for emergency lighting which bathed the floor with a warm glow; he could make out the figure of a girl, sitting on a hard chair, her expression anxious; the only sound in the room was the rasping breathing of the baby she was clutching to her. She looked at his white lab coat, the Pincent Pharma photo ID pinned to his chest pocket and shrank back.
‘Anna!’ Peter rushed over to her. ‘What happened?’
‘Peter?’ Anna jumped up, her expression changing from fear to amazement, and hurled her arms round his neck. ‘Oh, Peter, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to let you down . . .’
