Replica

by Lexi Revellian

  “I’m thirsty. And hungry. And I want something to read.”

  “Okay.”

  The younger one returned five minutes later with a bottle of mineral water, a sad-looking pizza on a paper plate, a copy of the Daily Mail, and a black tracksuit, new in cellophane bags. He said he’d bring me a few paperbacks the next day, and I thanked him. Pretending to be a model prisoner seemed sensible; just as well since I had as much energy to protest as a damp chick straight out of the egg. I changed out of my squalid clothes into the tracksuit, drank half the water, and sat on the edge of the bed to eat. That was, without doubt, the dreariest meal of my life.

  I read everything in the paper, including the sporting section, though finding it difficult to concentrate; my appalled mind kept straying to my current situation. I thought I might as well go to bed. I was tired, there was nothing to do, and it would at least give me a break from misery for a few hours. I took off trainers and hoodie, left everything else on, and got under the duvet. There wasn’t any way of turning off the central light.

  Staring at the white-painted ceiling, too unhappy to sleep, I caught myself whimpering softly. The day after next would be Christmas Day. Before I turned into an unofficial copy of myself, I’d expected to spend it in my flat, cooking the smallest turkey I could find for me and Rob. Then lounging on the sofa, his arm round me, eating chocolates and watching a corny film. Perhaps they’d give me Christmas dinner here. I imagined a turkey ready-meal, a glutinous individual Christmas pudding; a token nod to festivities in the world outside. Suddenly I was furious at what they’d reduced my life to. How dare they? Rage coursed through my veins. I was not going to stand for it.

  I vowed to do whatever was necessary to get out, even if it meant seducing the guard or killing him or both. I had nothing left to lose.

  Replica ~ Lexi Revellian

  CHAPTER 37

  Alarms and excursions

  After a couple of hours poring over invoices and payments on Rita in Admin’s computer, Nick was certain he’d pinpointed the place, a relatively small offshoot of a much larger government institute. Nothing covert about it; the Lomax Institute had its own website, photographs of cows, sheep and hens and attractively-coloured pathogens complete with a map of its location. The home page explained what they were ostensibly up to:

  The remit of the Lomax Animal Health Institute is research into serious infectious diseases of animals, including transmissible agents that may spread to humans and cause chronic disease. For example, prions, that cause BSE, and agents potentially responsible for degenerative neurological disorders such as Parkinson's disease. To that end we have extensive facilities for performing experiments with the target animals of the disease agents we study. The animals are maintained by our Animal Services department, an essential resource of the Institute.

  Nick’s knowledge of research laboratories was minimal, but his eye had been caught by a large order for computing systems processed a couple of weeks ago. Also they’d installed a private high-speed data-transfer optical line between the Lomax and the Oxford Centre for Functional MRI of the Brain. Google provided their website; they dealt with neuroscience research, the analysis of brain imaging data, novel methodology for investigating brain connectivity and a lot of other stuff Nick didn’t understand but which seemed relevant to investigations into the Beths. He smiled wryly at their Research Ethics: All the research involves healthy or diseased human participants and requires full ethics approval by the local Research Ethics Committee. Issues related to risks, discomfort, personal data and confidentiality, as well as training of staff in how to properly obtain consent of participants have been established at FMRIB for nine years. He doubted Sir Peter had disclosed what task their systems would be applied to.

  Then he’d found a purchase order around the same time to a pharmaceutical supplies firm that consisted of items that, as far as he could see, the Lomax hadn’t ordered before. Surgical instruments for human use, sterilizers, microtomes, a sizeable freezer, mass spectrometers, and a mind-bogglingly expensive 1.5T Intra-operative MRI Surgical System. Nick looked it up on the internet, and didn’t like it. Not in connection with experiments on Beth’s brain, anyway.

  The Lomax Animal Health Institute was in Aston Langley, a small village not far from Chelmsford, surrounded by miles of fields. About seventy minutes’ drive, Nick reckoned, depending on traffic, and in the opposite direction to the tail end of rush hour cars. He turned his mobile off, so it couldn’t be used to track his journey – no point making life too easy for Pete – made a few preparations, put on dark clothes, collected the Audi and drove north east.

  The countryside was black and drenched, the roads thick with mud, the only sign of life the occasional passing vehicle. Nick tried and failed to imagine living here, in the middle of nowhere. Thank God for big cities. The rain had stopped by the time he neared Aston Langley shortly before nine. The village consisted of a few roads containing solid houses with large gardens, and the Institute. He drove past slowly; it didn’t look like a fortress, the entrance had a low wall with railings and a sign saying LOMAX ANIMAL HEALTH INSTITUTE. The gates were open; several metres in was a red and white barrier across the road next to a lit-up gatehouse. Two CCTV cameras on a post stood guard to the right. Further along Nick saw modern buildings, barns and shadowy outbuildings behind a brick wall with four strands of barbed wire on top. A yellow sign warned: BE AWARE! This is a security patrolled area. There were no street lights. Nick smiled. The place’s defences were decidedly low-tech, and he hadn’t come across any orders to suppliers of intruder detection systems on Rita’s computer. They’d relied on the Institute’s known and public activities as a smokescreen.

  He left the car parked on a grassy verge in the next road and approached on foot, his backpack full of equipment he might need. Picking a dark corner, he reached up to cut a section of barbed wire above the brick wall, and hid the strands under a nearby hedge. The Beths should be able to climb over it on the way out with his help. He pulled himself to the top of the wall and dropped to the squelchy ground on the other side. No lights came on, no sirens went off, no one rushed to intercept him.

  The older buildings, the first he came to, held animals. Nick could smell them and hear the occasional rake of hoof on concrete. He flashed his torch through the open top of a door, and bovine eyes regarded him. Beyond was a stretch of grass and trees, and next to that was a newer single storey building. Nick walked around it and peered through the unlit windows; offices on one side, and laboratories on the other. More trees screened a car park occupied by three cars and four vans, and behind that a two storey block, some of its lights on.

  Nick approached cautiously. Through the glass he saw a smaller lab than the first, dark but for a pool of light in the corner where a man leaned forward, intent on a computer. His hand reached absently, raised a mug to his lips and put it down again quickly as if surprised. He glanced at his watch, and focused once more on the screen, but not for long. He got up, walked into the corridor and upstairs. Five minutes later he returned, switched off the computer, and picked up a scarf and jacket from a nearby chair. Nick retreated to a safe distance and crouched behind a van in the car park, waiting until the man emerged and headed on foot towards the exit.

  At the back of the building, barred upper windows showed lights. Nick debated whether to break in at ground level and go upstairs, or return to his car for a telescopic ladder and climb to the first floor for a recce. He decided to break in. The lab windows were too large, but round the side he found a smallish textured glass window, which he hit with a hammer from his pack. He climbed in to a room with washbasins, urinals and cubicles, waiting behind the door to see if anyone had heard the smash and would come to investigate. A few minutes later, Nick walked swiftly out and along a corridor to a lift and a flight of stairs. At the top of the staircase was a locked door with a camera above. The thump of Kasabian’s Fast Fuse, loud even through the door, explained why the smash of breaking glass d
ownstairs had gone unnoticed. Nick reached up and put a black bag over the CCTV lens, taking a chance no one would be watching at that moment. He took something the shape of a silver tadpole from his pocket, ping pong ball fragments and match heads wrapped in aluminium foil. Holding it by its tail, he held the flame from a lighter beneath the ball until it began to smoulder, and placed it beside the crack below the door. He wasn’t sure sufficient smoke was penetrating to the next room, so he lit another. A pause, while smoke mushroomed and Nick tried not to breathe in the fumes. Then footsteps approached, the door opened, the music got louder.

  Before the man registered his presence, Nick kicked him hard in the crotch. He doubled up. The older man behind him backed away, yelling “Stop there! Taser!” as he groped at his belt. Too slowly – Nick shoved the first man out of the way and twisted the second man’s wrist in a kote gatame, forcing him to his knees, then kicked his head and sent him flying backwards. While he was handcuffing his arms behind him, the first man jumped on his back and smashed something into his face. Nick turned and fought him on the floor; the struggle was short, vicious and decisive. He tied the two men up, removed an assortment of keys, phones, batons and tasers, and dragged them to the side of the corridor.

  The room they had come from had two doors in the far wall, and chairs in front of a long desk with monitors. Nick went over to the monitors and dumped the guards’ equipment beside them, turning off the radio now blaring out the Manic Street Preachers. Each screen tracked a different but identical room. The one on the left showed a narrow bed with a sleeping occupant, familiar red hair curling over the pillow, arms on top of the duvet. She looked very young and helpless lying there. Nick’s heart hurt as it sometimes did when he watched Josh; he wanted to get her away and cherish her, make everything all right. The second screen showed Beth Two; with her black hair and tracksuit and dark-rimmed eyes she was Odile to Beth’s Odette; he experienced no urge to protect her. She was standing at the door, intent on poking something in the keyhole. Nick clicked in closer to make out what she was doing, grinned, then went to the left hand door and tried keys until one fitted. He pushed the door open, strode to Beth and knelt by the bed.

  “Beth, it’s me, I’ve come to get you out of here.” She didn’t wake. “Beth!” He shook her shoulder. She stirred, murmured something he couldn’t make out, then lay, breathing slowly, dead to the world. “Shit.”

  He left the room and unlocked the second door. Beth Two jumped away with a guilty start and put her hands behind her; she recognized him and her expression became unfriendly. “What are you doing here?”

  “Rescuing Beth. And you, too.”

  “She’s here?” He nodded. “Why me too? You handed me over.”

  “Change of plan.” He looked into wary eyes. “I’m letting you out, but you have to do what I say and keep with me, okay? No running away.”

  “No, it’s not okay. Why should I trust you?”

  “Because A, it’s your only chance not to end up dead, and B, I need you.”

  Beth Two considered him. “I’ll do what you say as long as I agree with it. Not if I don’t.”

  “Or you’ll go back to picking the lock with a safety pin?” Nick’s voice was scathing. “That will so work, I can see why you’re not bothered about me letting you out. Look, we haven’t got time to argue. They’ve drugged Beth and I can’t wake her up.”

  “Take it or leave it. You need me, you said. And it’s a paperclip, not a safety pin.”

  “For fuck’s sake.” He stood aside and waved her through. “Let’s go. She’s next door.”

  Nick strode into the neighbouring room and put Beth over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift, while Beth Two stared at her, fascinated, then padded after him. The guards’ parkas were draped over their chairs, and she paused to slip into one. The other she carried with her. In the corridor Nick locked the door to the computer room then headed fast for the exit, past the two men prone in the corridor whose eyes followed their departure. Nick unlocked the front door and made for the car park, ignoring newer vehicles in favour of the white van. He laid Beth on the soggy grass.

  “Why have we stopped here?”

  “We need a van so you two can hide in the back. I can’t climb over the wall carrying Beth. We’ll have to drive through the main entrance.”

  “Do we have to steal this van?” Beth Two asked, eyeing it unfavourably.

  “Yes.” Nick got out an automatic centre punch. “It’s ten years old.” He depressed the punch against the driver’s window. The glass shattered into small fragments. Nick opened the door from the inside, sat behind the steering wheel and took tools from his pack.

  “Why does its age matter?” Beth Two peered into the van. “What are you doing?”

  He hit a screwdriver into the ignition with a hammer. “I’m hot wiring it. You can’t do that with modern engines.”

  She glanced around the dark grounds apprehensively. “Will it take long?”

  “Not if you shut up and let me get on with it. Or perhaps you’d like to have a go with your paperclip?” He twisted the screwdriver. Nothing happened. “Shit. Hold this.” Beth shone the torch he handed her on the ignition. Nick got out another screwdriver and undid the screws holding the plastic panels round the steering column so he could prise them off. He put on gloves. With wire cutters, he snipped the two red wires, stripped the ends and twisted them together, working fast. The lights came on. He cut a couple of short pieces of insulating tape, severed and stripped the brown wires with care, and touched one to the other. The engine started. He taped over the ends of the brown wires, and shoved the panels back into place. Fleetingly, Beth Two looked impressed. Nick leaped out of the van, jemmied the back doors open, picked up Beth and laid her inside.

  “You get in too. Hold the doors shut and don’t make any noise.”

  Beth Two said, “D’you know you’ve got blood on your face?”

  “Shit. Get it off for me.”

  Beth Two pulled her sleeve over her hand, spat on it and wiped his cheek. Untender fingers pushed his hair aside and rubbed at his temple. She eyed the results critically. “You still look like you’ve been in a fight.”

  “Can’t be helped.” Nick dropped his tools into the back pack, got in the van and drove towards the main gate.

  Replica ~ Lexi Revellian

  CHAPTER 38

  Allies

  I was back in that horrible van, which still smelled faintly of sick – but this time I was not alone, and hope burned perilously in my heart. I sat awkwardly on the cold metal floor, clutching the broken lock with both hands, frightened of losing my grip and getting us caught. The other Beth bumped against me with every jolt. The van stopped, and Nick said something. Another man’s voice, then a conversation I couldn’t quite hear. Fear seized me – we weren’t going to get away with this, the man at the gate didn’t recognize Nick, was asking awkward questions. I sat in the smelly dark, acutely apprehensive, sweating. If the man opened the door, I’d run for it. The van tilted fractionally; Nick was getting out and walking round the front. Something heavy smashed into the off side panel, making me jump; I heard a thud and some grunts. Everything went quiet for a bit. I waited, heart pounding. Then the creak and clunk of the barrier lifting; the van door slammed and we moved off.

  Minutes later we stopped. Nick rapped on the doors and I climbed out. The black car that had brought me here stood behind the van. He told me to climb in the back and reclined the passenger seat on to my legs, telling me brusquely to get out of the way. He lifted the other Beth into the front seat and belted her in, tucked the guard’s coat round her, jumped in himself and accelerated down the road.

  I was shaking. I twisted to look out of the rear window; no sign of pursuit. Immediately in front of me, Beth’s head lolled to one side and I straightened it. She wasn’t wearing our clothes, but a tracksuit identical to the one they’d given me, grey instead of black. Extraordinary, as I brushed it away from her eyes, to feel my hair on someone else
’s head. I kept forgetting mine was black now. She really was exactly the same as me … Odd, too, to view myself from this angle; there was that small mole on my jaw that I could only see using two mirrors … It was going to be even stranger for her, as she had no idea I existed.

  “Where are you taking us?”

  “When Beth wakes up we’ll check into a hotel. Somewhere cheap in London. Then work out who to approach to get instant publicity. Pity it’s Christmas Eve, people will be away.”

  The other Beth wasn’t showing any signs of waking up. She hadn’t moved at all since we left her room. Suddenly worried, I put my hand in front of her face. She was breathing all right, though it took me a while to feel it.

  Nick’s head turned towards me. “Why is she drugged and not you?”

  “Ben Pearson took me downstairs to do some tests – blood tests and an EEG machine and stuff. It was weird, he was sort of all normal, explaining what he was doing, as if I wasn’t there against my will. I decided to go along with it, but I guess she didn’t. I heard bangs and crashes and the men on guard going in, though I didn’t know it was her next door. She must have gone for him. Suppose she doesn’t wake up?”

  “Whatever they gave her will probably wear off quite soon.”

  The black countryside sped past. The car had not yet warmed up, and I was glad I’d thought to take the coats. There really wasn’t much room in the back, my legs were cramped and my head bent, but I suddenly realized I was free, out of that place, not locked up. Nick was probably on my side now, more or less, and given his remorselessness and fighting ability this was a good thing; as though I’d moved on from Terminator One to Terminator Two. I smiled, the first time for days, and leant forward to sneak a look at Nick. His profile belonged on an ancient coin; the hair curling on his forehead and neck, his heavy-lidded eyes, that straight nose. He stared ahead, impassive as a Roman soldier preparing to mow down a rabble of Celtic tribes. My stomach gave a flip of fear whenever I looked at him, confusingly like the feeling you get when a man you’re attracted to appears. I thought of how he’d hounded me, and tasered Matt. Instead of the friendly comment I’d been about to make I said, “So Sir Peter cheated you – you should have known he’d do that. That’s why you had a change of plan.”