by Gemma Malley
‘Another Surplus,’ he said quickly, his voice faltering now, his eyes wide with fear, with shock. ‘People, this is a mounting crisis. We must find a way to deal with these criminal youths.’
‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’ Jude said angrily, pushing the guard ahead of him and holding the gun out where everyone could see it. ‘Only I’m afraid I’m not a Surplus. Nor’s Peter. So you can’t harvest our cells to make your Longevity drugs. Or is it only girl Surpluses you can use?’
The room hushed; Richard looked at the boy in alarm. ‘I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ he said icily. ‘Guards, do something. Restrain this boy.’
‘Anyone comes near me and this guard dies,’ Jude shouted. ‘I work for the Underground. I’ve got a gun and I’m not afraid to use it.’
‘You think I care if you kill a guard? They’re ten a penny,’ Richard said angrily, then blanched slightly as he noticed all the guards in the room staring at him, their eyes full of shock and resentment.
‘What if I kill you?’ Jude said calmly. ‘What will you do then? Or what about if I don’t kill you? What about if I tell you instead that footage from Unit X is on tape? That I’ve got evidence of the Surplus girls you’ve been keeping there? Creating embryos for your precious drugs. Why don’t you tell the journalists about that? Why don’t you tell them about their screams?’
Richard Pincent went white. ‘It’s lies,’ he said, his voice catching. ‘It’s all lies.’ He stepped back, grabbed Derek Samuels. ‘The Surplus girls,’ he hissed. ‘Where are they? And Anna?’
Derek Samuels didn’t need to say anything; his expression, the greeny tinge to his face, said it all. Disgusted, Richard let go of him.
‘Lies that will soon be coming to a computer terminal near you,’ Jude was saying. ‘Unless you let Peter go. Unless you cancel the launch of Longevity+.’
‘How dare you!’ Richard was white now, struggling to comprehend what the boy was saying, trying to understand what was happening. He was shaking with rage, his eyes bulbous, his hands tightened into fists. ‘How dare you threaten me. I am Richard Pincent. I will not have this. I will not . . .’ He felt a stabbing pain in his left arm, and looked around wildly. ‘I will not have anyone question my methods, question my . . .’ But he didn’t finish his sentence; instead, he clutched his chest and fell to the floor.
‘He’s dead!’ a journalist cried out, as two doctors rushed forward. ‘The Surpluses have killed him.’
Like sheep, the journalists began to leave their seats, rushing to the front of the room to get a better view. Immediately, Hillary stood up.
‘I think,’ she said, taking the microphone, ‘that we’ve seen enough. Please return to your seats.’
The journalists didn’t move. ‘Is it true about Unit X?’ one shouted.
‘Who’s the other boy?’ another called out.
‘Are you really creating embryos?’ another cried. ‘Here, at Pincent Pharma?’
As the journalists’ questions became louder, more insistent, Hillary looked over at the doctors who were moving Richard on to his side. ‘He needs heart regeneration,’ one said. ‘He’s got one waiting.’
Hillary nodded, then she turned to the microphone and held up her hands until a semblance of quiet had been restored. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ she said, her voice crisp and authoritative, ‘as Deputy Secretary General, I would like to apologise for today’s proceedings. As you will appreciate, Pincent Pharma has been encountering some . . . problems recently. May I make it clear that the Authorities take allegations of malpractice and abuse of Surpluses very seriously indeed and that a full inquiry will be launched immediately. I will be taking over the running of Pincent Pharma while Mr Pincent undergoes medical assessment and treatment. In the meantime, and to protect the impartiality of our inquiry, I know that you will understand that there will be no reporting of this press conference or the events surrounding it. Cameras, notebooks and recording devices will, as a matter of national security, be confiscated as you leave.’
‘Leave?’ a journalist cried out. ‘We can’t leave. Tell us about the Surpluses.’
‘Tell us about Longevity+,’ someone else shouted. ‘Tell us how it’s really made.’
Hillary regarded her audience coolly, then allowed her eyes to rest on the first journalist. ‘And your name is?’
The man shifted uncomfortably. ‘Tom Wellings.’
‘Well, Tom, I’m afraid that you are mistaken. You will leave, under Authorities’ mandate. Failure to comply with an Authorities’ mandate results, as you well know, in arrest and investigation.’
She smiled sweetly at him, then turned to the second journalist. ‘And you? Your name, please?’
‘Sarah,’ the woman said, her voice firm. ‘Sarah Condon.’
‘Well, Ms Condon, when the inquiry results are published – which they will be, because the Authorities are committed to total transparency – you will be able to report them accurately for your readers. I would hate for any of you to face sedition charges before you’re able to do that. Really I would.’
She stared at the woman, who, looking shaken, sat down again.
‘I do regret the inconvenience,’ Hillary continued. ‘However, your loyalty and support will be recognised with an exclusive from the Authorities on the Energy Forum tomorrow. And to show our gratitude, each of you will receive ten extra energy coupons next month, assuming, of course, that no details of today’s events have made their way into the public arena. Thank you, and please do make your way out of the building now.’
No one moved for a few seconds, then, gradually, as the guards began to move through the room, the journalists began to stand up. One by one, their belongings were taken from them and they were ushered out of the building into the night. A stretcher appeared; Richard Pincent was lifted on to it. Derek Samuels followed the guards carrying it.
Eventually the room was empty, but for Jude, who was still holding his gun, the guard he was training it on, and Peter and the guards holding him. Hillary waved away Peter’s guards; Jude watched carefully as they left the building, then sent the guard he’d been holding after them, holding the gun at his side, just in case. Hillary turned to him, her lips pursed. ‘These tapes,’ she said, her voice brittle. ‘You will give me all copies, do you understand?’
Jude looked at her in disgust. ‘So you can destroy them?’
‘So that we can investigate your claims fully,’ Hillary said silkily.
‘File them away, you mean.’
Hillary smiled. ‘The Authorities will follow due procedure,’ she said. ‘And I’m afraid you don’t have a choice. Either you give me the tapes, or I’ll have you arrested, do I make myself clear?’
Jude looked at her for a moment, then reached into his pocket and handed over a disk. Hillary took it, her eyes lighting up. ‘And now you will give me the gun,’ she said icily. ‘You won’t get out of here alive unless you do.’
But Jude just laughed. ‘You really think there’s only one copy?’ he asked. ‘You really think I’m that stupid?’
Hillary hesitated. ‘More copies?’
‘Of course there are,’ Peter said, taking his lead from Jude. ‘The Surpluses have been rescued. Anna’s safe. And believe me there are more copies of the disk. The images have been transmitted into cyberspace. Anything happens to us and they will be everywhere.’
Hillary’s eyes narrowed. She turned back to Jude who had one eyebrow raised.
‘He’s right,’ he shrugged. ‘If you don’t let us go, things could be very bad for you.’
‘For Richard Pincent, you mean,’ Hillary corrected him. ‘He is at fault here, not the Authorities.’
‘Right,’ Peter said, sarcastically. ‘And the fact that you knew all about it isn’t important? What was it you said . . . “Who’d have thought Surpluses could be so useful?” You think that will go down well in the inquiry?’
Hillary’s eyes widened in shock.
‘See? It’
s not just the Surpluses we’ve got on tape,’ Peter said levelly. ‘Let us go, or it goes public.’
Hillary was silent for a few moments, then she took a deep breath. ‘I want you to go,’ she said, her voice angry and low. ‘I want you to go, and I want you to disappear. Breathe one word about what happened here today, raise your heads above the parapet just slightly, and you’ll know the power and ruthlessness of the Authorities, do I make myself clear?’
‘Sure, whatever,’ Jude said, turning to leave.
Peter, meanwhile, was still staring at Hillary. ‘And you come near me or my family and you’ll know the power and ruthlessness of the Underground,’ he said bitterly. ‘Do I make myself clear?’ He moved over quickly to stand beside Jude. Then, slowly, surely, they walked towards the door, looking over their shoulders as they did so, then down the steps, and through the gates. A man emerged from the trees outside the compound, giving the sign of the Underground, and they followed him in silence to the main road, then through a deserted builders’ yard to a road on the other side where a car was waiting for them.
‘You know the disk I gave her was a list of codes from one of my clients,’ Jude said, as they approached the car.
Peter frowned at him, then smiled wryly. ‘So you don’t have anything on tape?’ he asked.
‘Not a thing,’ Jude winked. ‘But she doesn’t know that. Not yet, anyway.’
Quickly, they got into the car and it sped off, down back roads, on to a dual carriageway, into the country. Every so often Peter turned round, his darting eyes checking for other cars on the road, for any sign of danger.
‘I guess we’re going to be doing a lot of that in the future. Looking over our shoulders, I mean,’ Jude said thoughtfully.
‘Welcome to my life,’ Peter said with a shrug. Then he looked at Jude and grinned. ‘Actually, I mean it. Welcome to my life.’
Chapter Thirty-Four
Peter stared at the computer screen uncertainly as it flickered into life. Tentatively, he moved his hands towards the keyboard which was wedged on the kitchen counter, between two boxes of cereal and the solar-powered toaster, and started to type.
Peter2124: Jude are you there? Don’t know if this is going to work. Let me know if gets through. Peter.
He only had to wait a few seconds for a reply.
Jude2124: Loud and clear.
Peter2124: So how’s things?
Jude2124: Things? I couldn’t possibly tell you about any things; Pip would have to kill me. And then you.
Peter chuckled, imagining Jude’s impatience with Pip’s demands, imagining them bickering as they had bickered in the few days they’d shared together after escaping from Pincent Pharma. To Peter it had been like old times – hiding in cellars, making plans to leave London – but infinitely better because this time he hadn’t felt alone. He’d had Anna, he’d had Ben, and he’d had Jude. Jude, who made everyone laugh, who rolled his eyes at everything, who thought he knew better than everyone, who reminded Peter of himself more than he ever cared to admit.
Peter2124: Is he still fixated on the weather for passwords?
Jude2124: He’s moved on to flora and fauna. I tried to get him to use something else, but he wasn’t having any of it. Did you get the package I sent, by the way?
Peter looked down at the small box on the floor beside him. It had arrived that morning. In it, to his surprise, to his relief, he’d found his ring, the one he’d thrown away, the one he didn’t want but which his hand felt naked without.
Peter2124: Where did you get it? I don’t want it. I threw it away, remember?
Jude2124: Of course I remember. It hit the guard holding me when you threw it away at the end of your little speech at Pincent Pharma. Gave me an opportunity to get out the gun Pip gave me. I think maybe it’s a lucky ring.
Peter frowned.
Peter2124: So you kept it for a few weeks, then. What were you going to do, sell it?
Jude2124: Wish I had now, since you’re so sure you don’t want it. Probably worth a bit.
Peter bit his lip.
Jude2124: Actually, I kind of liked it. Thought I’d wear it. But it’s yours. Pip said you should hold on to it.
Peter2124: The AF. It stands for Albert Fern.
Jude2124: That’s what Pip said. He’s the guy who invented Longevity, right? You. certainly have some interesting relatives, don’t you.
Peter2124: Interesting’s one word for it. Fine, I’ll keep the ring. Thanks for looking after it for me.
Jude2124: You’re welcome. So you’re happy out there, wherever it is you are?
Peter looked out of the window, over the fields stretching out into the distance.
Peter2124: Really happy, yeah.
As he typed the words, he found himself smiling – he actually was happy, he realised. Properly happy, probably for the first time ever. They’d been here for a few weeks now; their location secret, chosen for its remoteness, its seclusion. The Authorities would be looking for them but for now, at least, they were safe; safe and free at last. He and Anna had land, were determined to be self-sufficient, and for the first time in his life Peter felt in control, unburdened. Ben had started to walk and say the odd word, and their unborn child had begun to move inside Anna, making its presence felt with fluttering movements and forcing Peter to work as hard as he could to feed the insatiable hunger it had created in its mother. It had already enslaved him, he realised, just as he’d been warned it would, just as the land he now worked and nature herself enslaved him with constant demands, with rain, with wind, with dark nights and bright mornings. What he hadn’t known was that he’d be enslaved willingly; that he would meet the whims of his taskmasters with love, with devotion, with joy in his heart.
Jude2124: And there’s really no one there? You’re living in the wilderness? Can’t think of anything worse myself.
Peter grinned. Their nearest neighbour was over five miles away – even in over-populated Britain, the wilds of northern Scotland still provided solitude.
Peter2124: You kind of get a taste for it. So how about you? How’s Sheila?
Jude2124: Sheila? She’s fine. So far she’s failed to fall for my many charms, but she’ll succumb eventually. She certainly talks a lot. Says I’ve been badly trained. Says I wouldn’t have lasted a minute in Grange Hall.
Peter grinned.
Peter2124: To be honest, I think she’s right.
Jude2124: So look, I’d better go. Can’t risk anyone tracking you now, can we? You’re sure you’ve got your security codes set up properly?
Peter2124: I think so.
Jude2124: I’ll take a look later to be safe. I’ll let you know if you’ve got any vulnerabilities. Pip says to remember there’s a doctor ready to fly up the minute you need it. He says good luck with everything.
Peter2124: Thanks. I think I’m going to need it.
He thought of them, all of them, back in London somewhere, wherever the latest Underground headquarters was, planning, waiting, hiding. And he knew that he would return, that soon he’d be with them again, but for now he was grateful to be far away, to be at peace, even if he knew it was a chimera, impermanent. He was about to close down his computer, when another message flashed on the screen suddenly.
Jude2124: I take it you heard about your grandfather.
Peter felt his jaw tighten. He had heard – the inquiry had found Richard Pincent negligent, but not criminally liable. He was back at Pincent Pharma; his only punishment had been to complete a ReTraining programme in health and safety.
Peter2124: I heard, yes. What about Unit X? Has it been shut down?
Jude2124: Apparently. They said they’re working on a synthetic alternative. But Pip says it’s only a sop. He says people are asking questions, though, and that’s the important thing. Didn’t stop the Authorities sending me my Declaration, of course. Like I’m going to do anything but burn the thing.
Peter nodded thoughtfully. He heard a noise behind him and turned to see Anna wandering in
, a pail of water in her right hand and Ben clutching her left. She gave him a kiss as she passed him, and he grabbed her quickly, ignoring her cries of protest as the water spilled and Ben immediately ran to jump in it.
His face breaking out involuntarily into a smile,
Peter turned back to his computer.
Peter2124: Say hi to Pip and Sheila.
Jude2124. I will. See you, then. Over and out. PS Click this.
Curiously, Peter clicked the link; seconds later, an image filled his screen: it showed several men attacking a Pincent Pharma truck, destroying its contents; one of the men stuck his fingers up at the camera filming him – his face was covered by a balaclava, but Peter knew who it was.
‘Is that who I think it is?’ Anna asked, peering over to look.
‘Sure is,’ Peter nodded. Then he kissed Anna’s hand and, grinning to himself, made his way out to the yard.
About the Author
Gemma Malley studied Philosophy at Reading University before working as a journalist. She edited several business magazines and contributed regularly to Company Magazine and the Sunday Telegraph before moving into the civil service in a senior communications role at Ofsted. The Declaration, her first novel for a teenage audience, was published to critical acclaim. The Resistance is the sequel and The Revelation, to be published in September 2010, will complete the trilogy. She lives in South London with her family.
Also by Gemma Malley
The Declaration
The Revelation
The Returners
Bloomsbury Publishing, London, Berlin and New York
First published in Great Britain in September 2008 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
36 Soho Square, London, W1D 3QY
First published in the USA in September 2008 by Bloomsbury USA Children’s Books
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010
This electronic edition published in February 2011 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
Copyright © Gemma Malley 2008
