CHAPTER ELEVEN

Kieron regained consciousness suddenly. One minute he was out cold, floating in a dark void, and the next he jerked awake in a comfortable seat, eyes open wide and hands clenched.

‘Ah, you’re back.’ Todd Zanderbergen sat opposite Kieron. He had a glass of champagne in his hand. ‘I know teenagers sleep a lot, but you were going for the record. Tara and I had a bet on it.’ He took a sip of the champagne. ‘I won.’

‘Yeah, I suspect you usually do,’ Kieron said. ‘Doesn’t it get boring?’ His mouth was dry, and his eyes felt gritty. He tried to move, but he’d been restrained.

He looked around. He seemed to be on an aircraft, but a small one, upholstered in white leather and with mushroom-shaped wooden tables that looked like they’d been carved out of oak. Circular windows ran along each curved wall. Blue light spilled in from outside, but he didn’t know what time it was. Several seats were scattered around the narrow cabin. Todd sat in one of them; Tara Gallagher sat in another. Both of them faced the seat where he’d been imprisoned.

‘What’s the last thing you remember?’ Todd asked. ‘It’s a professional question: I’m not interested in the state of your health.’

‘Your Head of Security firing some kind of blue goo at my head.’ Kieron glanced at Tara. ‘I thought that stuff was just meant to harden around people and stop them from moving – not stop them from breathing.’

Tara just raised an eyebrow. It was Todd who answered. ‘Yes, Tara did exceed the usage specifications a bit, but it’s all information we can feed into the research programme. Grist to the mill, as they say, although I have no idea what grist is or why it should go through a mill. Do people have grist mills? I should Google it.’

He paused and took another sip of champagne. ‘You’ve been unconscious for about eight hours. Part of that was due to the immobilising foam hitting your head and knocking you out; part of it was due to your mouth being obstructed and you having problems breathing. Some of it might be down to you being a teenager and just needing to sleep a lot; I honestly don’t know. You’re lucky Tara scraped enough of the stuff off your face so that you could breathe.’ He frowned in fake concern. ‘You might want to run your tongue around your teeth when you get a moment, check for any of the hardened gel that might still be there. I don’t think we’ve run the toxicology tests yet. Best not swallow it by accident.’

Tara held a hand up. ‘I’ve still got some underneath my fingernails,’ she said. ‘It’s hell to get out.’

‘We’re travelling somewhere,’ Kieron said. He could feel the vibration of the aircraft’s engine through the seat, although the noise insulation in the cabin seemed very good. ‘Is it somewhere I might have wanted to go?’

‘I don’t know.’ Todd shrugged. ‘Ever wanted to go to Israel?’

Israel, Kieron thought with a sense of impending panic. A long way from the USA. Not as far from the UK, but I wouldn’t want to walk it. All he could hope was that Bex and Sam had found the ARCC glasses he’d thrown over the fence, that they were intact, and that somehow his friends had managed to trace where he was and where he was going and could follow. That was a lot of things to hope for, but if they didn’t all come true then he was in trouble.

Actually, even if Bex and Sam did manage to trace where he was going, it might still all end badly. What were they going to do – two people against a corrupt massive international research and development company?

Thoughts of the ARCC glasses suddenly made him wonder about the other set, the ones Bex usually wore. He hadn’t thrown those ones over the fence. Or the earpiece either. Impulsively he reached up and checked the inside pocket of his jacket, where he’d left them. Even if Bex and Sam found the VR set and followed him to Israel, they wouldn’t be able to contact him unless he had them. A shiver of panic ran through him as his questing fingers didn’t find anything. Had he been searched? Had all his things been confiscated?

He ran his hands through his hair and his fingertips touched something plastic, something that curved. The arms of the ARCC glasses. He slid his hand down and felt his fingernails brush against a hard lump. The earpiece.

He took a deep, relieved breath. At least he still had his kit.

Across the table, Tara stared at him curiously. He scratched in an exaggerated way at his chest.

‘Itch,’ he said to her. ‘Have you checked this aircraft for fleas? I think you might have an infestation.’

Tara sneered and looked away.

‘Oh, forgive me,’ Todd said. ‘I’m being a terrible host. Would you like a drink? Not champagne, I’m afraid.’ He held up the glass and looked into it, at the tiny bubbles. ‘One mouthful of this costs more than most people spend on a car. I wouldn’t waste it on you.’ He seemed calm, but Kieron sensed an undercurrent of anger. It reminded him of the times he and Sam had been confronted by chavs in the shopping centre or the local recreation ground: they’d ask nice questions, like ‘What’s your name?’ and ‘Where are you going?’ but you knew it was just a precursor to them punching you in the gut and then laughing when you crumpled up in pain.

‘You hear these stories,’ Kieron said casually, ‘of rich bankers in the City of London spending tens of thousands of pounds on a single bottle of wine. My mum once said she doesn’t know what’s worse – the idea that there’s one less bottle of incredible wine in the world or the idea that the rich bankers just swilled it down without appreciating it properly. So, is that champagne worth the money you paid for it?’

‘I say again that it costs more than most people spend on a car,’ Todd said carefully, ‘but I prefer motorcycles. I have a neat collection of Harleys. Or at least I did until you managed to destroy them during your rather pathetic attempt at escape. And it’s not as if I can claim them on my insurance. I mean, I can hardly explain what really happened to them, can I?’

Kieron smiled. ‘Maybe if you collect all the bits together you can rebuild one complete bike. OK, it might be a bit singed, but at least you’d have something.’

Todd’s mouth twisted in fury, and suddenly cold liquid splashed across Kieron’s face, running down his forehead, cheeks and nose and the lenses of the ARCC glasses.

Todd’s hands clenched the empty champagne glass: the left hand grasping the flute, right hand on the stem. His knuckles went white and his lips twisted into a snarl as the glass abruptly snapped, flute and stem coming apart with a high-pitched snap and a strange ringing sound. His right hand closed around the base of the glass, leaving the stem projecting from between his fingers. Slowly he raised it up until the sharp, broken tip pointed straight at Kieron’s right eye.

Tara stared, wide-eyed and white-faced, at her boss. It looked to Kieron as if she’d never seen him like this before.

‘Once I’ve finished questioning you,’ Todd snarled, ‘I’m going to make you feel so much pain you’ll beg me to kill you just so it ends.’

Kieron blinked until the drink had run out of his eyes, then very deliberately licked his lips. ‘Not a fan of champagne,’ he said. ‘Do you do milkshakes? I really fancy one of those right now – a good one, made with ice cream. Or a bubble tea. I tell you what – have you ever tried cream soda poured over vanilla ice cream? It tastes incredible. Much better than this stuff, and so much cheaper.’

Todd closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. His lips moved as if he was reciting a mantra, some calming phrase that would help his anger drain away. When he opened his eyes, the storm seemed to have passed. ‘There’s water,’ he said as if nothing had happened, ‘or juice. Or, if you want to live a healthier life, wheatgrass shots or perhaps coconut water.’ He smiled, and Kieron could see that the storm hadn’t passed. The anger still bubbled away, underneath. ‘Frankly, given what’s going to happen to you, living a healthy life is probably the lowest of your priorities at the moment.’

‘Water, please.’ Kieron glanced over at Tara, trying to judge her mood. Was she so worried about her boss’s sudden flash of temper that she might do something to help Kieron, or was she just going to go along with it, accept the generous pay packet every month and keep quiet? She seemed tense but subdued.

‘I take it that Lethal Insomnia are off the itinerary?’ Kieron asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Todd laughed. ‘Yes, you’ve blown your chances on that, I’m afraid.’ He glanced at Tara. ‘Could you get a water for our friend here?’

‘Don’t you have attendants for that kind of thing?’ Kieron asked.

‘Yes, but Tara’s in the doghouse. Security has been allowed to get very lax under her control. I’m reminding her that she needs to be very, very good for a while, and do exactly as she’s told.’

‘You strike me as a very “hands-on” boss,’ Kieron said as Tara got up out of her seat and headed for the back of the aircraft. ‘I’m surprised you’d let someone else design a security system for you. That thing about the firewall and the two levels of security – the outward-facing one and the inward-facing one, with an air gap between them – that was your idea, wasn’t it? Not Tara’s.’ He was consciously trying to provoke Todd a bit with all these digs. Maybe not a very good idea, but he’d never been the kind of kid to buckle under pressure. Even in those shopping mall or park ‘conversations’ with gangs of chavs, he’d always felt an irresistible urge to needle them, insult them a bit when he answered their questions. Stupid stuff, like he’d say something quietly, they’d say, ‘What?’ and he’d say, ‘Oh, you’re deaf as well as stupid.’ It unsettled them. Maybe it was a small revenge for the inevitable punch in the stomach, but it made him feel less of a victim.

Todd’s hand clenched on the two pieces of the champagne glass, which he still held. His knuckles went white again. His voice, however, was perfectly calm as he replied: ‘It was meant to be the perfect system, balancing accessibility for everyone inside with a firewall separating them from outside. But you got in. Very clever, but you must have had help. We should talk about that.’

Tara spoke, finally, as she returned with a bottle of water for Kieron. She looked at Todd as she said, ‘I checked the security records. Judith came in through the turnstiles late last night, but I called her, and she was at home. Somehow this kid managed to fake her eye-print.’

‘How did you do that?’ Todd asked casually.

‘With ease,’ Kieron said. He took a sip, then deliberately held the bottle out to Todd. ‘Would you like to check this for DNA and fingerprints as well?’

He shrugged and smiled. ‘Already done that. Didn’t find any trace of you in any system we have access to. You’re an unknown quantity.’ He waved a casual hand. ‘We have your two friends, by the way. The woman and the other boy.’

‘I don’t think you do.’ Kieron looked around theatrically. ‘They’d be here if you did, and I only see the three of us, plus, say, a pilot and co-pilot in the cockpit. Unless you’ve shoved them in the toilets?’

Todd smiled. ‘Maybe they’re in the baggage hold, freezing to death and suffocating from the lack of oxygen. Who knows? We’ll take a look when we land.’ He shrugged. ‘There are questions we need to ask you about how you got into our system, who you’re working for and how much you – and your employers – know. We can either have that talk now, calmly and in a civilised way – or we can have it after we land. That latter course is, I need to tell you, going to be a lot more painful.’

Kieron stared at Todd. The man seemed genuinely unsure about what Kieron actually knew.

‘You know what I accessed?’ Kieron asked.

Todd nodded. ‘Staff records. Of all the things you could have looked at, you looked at staff records. There are secrets on that system that could have earned you millions if you’d sold them on the dark web, or even openly to my competitors, but you were snuffling around in my personnel files. I just need to know – why?’

‘You honestly don’t know?’

Todd shook his head, seemingly genuinely puzzled. ‘It makes no sense.’

Kieron closed his eyes for a moment. ‘Doesn’t it bother you that thirty-five people who worked for you died, apparently of heart attacks, and all at the Goldfinch premises in Tel Aviv?’

‘Employees die all the time, despite everything I try to do to improve their health,’ Todd said, frowning. ‘It’s regrettable – they’re like pets: you get attached to them sometimes – but it happens. They get buried, we pay out on their pension schemes to their dependents, we recruit replacements and everyone moves on. Soon there’s just a couple of photographs on the “Employee of the Month” wall to remind us all that they were ever there. I don’t see the issue.’

‘They all died at the same time, didn’t they?’ Kieron asked quietly. ‘In the same place, at the same time and for the same reason.’

Todd glanced over questioningly at Tara.

‘Project ANCIENT MARINER,’ she prompted after a pause.

Todd nodded. ‘Oh, that. Yes, that was just an industrial accident. A gas leak. These things happen. Sometimes, despite our best efforts, technology breaks down and something bad happens. Regrettable, but that’s life. Can’t be helped. We wanted to avoid an investigation so we just changed the cause of death to “heart attack”.’

‘Thirty-five members of your staff, each of whose family comes from Eastern Europe.’ Kieron could feel the anger building within him, and tried to restrain it. ‘What possible accidental gas leak could just kill people whose families came from one area of the world?’

Todd gazed into his empty glass as if the secrets of the universe could be found in there. ‘I think you’ve already worked out the answer,’ he said quietly.

‘You work on non-lethal weapons. That’s what your company is known for, primarily.’ Kieron’s thoughts were racing as he spoke, sorting out the facts and the suppositions and organising them into a coherent structure. ‘The whole point about non-lethal weapons is that they don’t kill innocent bystanders. But sometimes non-lethal weapons do kill people. That blue goo, for instance, could have suffocated me. Those big water pistols that transmit electric shocks through the water might give some people a heart attack. So, if you really want to avoid innocent casualties, why not develop a lethal weapon that only kills the people you want it to? People from a particular country, or one particular part of the world. One ethnic group.’ The anger was bleeding through into his voice now, but he couldn’t stop it. ‘People with a particular skin colour, or eyes of a certain shape. What is it? A virus? A bacterium?’

‘Project ANCIENT MARINER,’ Todd repeated quietly, still staring into his glass. ‘So called because of some old poem. Tara’s idea. “It is an ancient Mariner, And he stoppeth one of three”. That’s what this thing does: it kills, but it kills selectively. Just the people you want to die. Yes, it’s a virus – one that’s been modified so that it only affects people who carry certain genes in their DNA. It’s possible to tell a person’s race and their whole heritage from their DNA – did you know that? I’ve had my own sequenced, just to be sure.’

‘Well,’ Kieron murmured, ‘it would be embarrassing if you had some Eastern European heritage, wouldn’t it?’

‘Exactly. Turns out I’m ninety per cent Nordic, with ten per cent Native American thrown in. All good news – nobody hates the Nordic peoples or the Native Americans, so I’m safe.’

‘But why?’ Kieron asked softly, although he thought he already knew the answer.

‘A weapon like that could make a man rich,’ Todd said. ‘Every country in the world has a faction that wants to kill another faction because of some trivial difference between them. And if you wanted to test it, just to see if it worked, why not organise an accidental leak of gas in a conference room where half the people had Eastern European heritage and half didn’t? And if half the people die – the right half – then you know it’s worked.’ He finally glanced over at Kieron. ‘I tell you this now, here, because I want someone to know how clever I’ve been, and because you’ll be dead within twenty-four hours, just as soon as you tell us who you’re working for and who else knows.’

‘You’ve got a gas that works against emos and greebs?’ Kieron asked.

Todd grinned mirthlessly. ‘Actually, I probably could find genetic markers for emotional sensitivity, a tendency towards depression, fondness for the colour black and a love of loud, repetitive music. The problem is that I’d share those markers as well, so I’ll stay away from that line of research.’

The rumbling of the engine changed subtly, and Kieron felt a slight shift in his sense of balance.

‘We’re approaching Ben Gurion Airport,’ Tara said, standing up. ‘I suggest you prepare for landing.’

‘I thought we had permission to land at the Goldfinch Institute facility?’ Todd asked. ‘I don’t want to have to mix with ordinary people if I can help it.’

‘It’s Israeli air control,’ Tara explained apologetically. ‘They’re insisting we go through the main airport. But don’t worry – we’ll get the VIP treatment.’

‘Is there a genetic marker for “ordinary people”?’ Kieron asked quietly. ‘Perhaps you could just get rid of them all.’

Todd just stared at him darkly then turned away as the aircraft descended. Kieron felt the same pressure in his ears as he had when he, Bex and Sam had landed at Washington Dulles, and then again at Albuquerque.

Bex. Bex and Sam. Did they know where he was and what had happened? Were they on their way to rescue him? Or had they missed the ARCC glasses entirely, maybe even run them over and crushed them? Were they sitting in the hotel now, wondering where he was?

A dark thought wriggled into his conscious mind: maybe Tara had tracked him back to his hotel after his first visit and discovered that he had two other people with him. Maybe Bex and Sam were in the baggage hold, frozen and asphyxiated. Maybe they’d been killed back in Albuquerque.

He didn’t know whether to feel scared, angry, tired, hungry … A thousand emotions swirled around in his brain.

He settled on one.

Anger. No, two: anger and revenge. He was going to get out of this situation and teach both Todd Zanderbergen and Tara Gallagher not to mess with a teenage greeb and his friends. Oh, and not to threaten the world with a weapon that targeted certain sections of the population. That as well.

Landing was just a slight bump of the wheels on the ground. Within ten minutes they were stationary and the main door was being opened to let in air that was as oven-hot and as fuel-scented as the air back in Albuquerque. It was as if he’d never left. Within moments Kieron felt sweat springing up on his hands and face, and down his spine.

‘I’m going to release your restraints,’ Tara said. She reached down and pulled up a weapon from beside her chair. It was the microwave-beam generator that Kieron had used against her and her guards back in Albuquerque. ‘Remember this?’ she asked. ‘If you make the slightest move, or try to shout out to anyone, I’ll be demonstrating what it feels like.’

‘I thought weapons were frowned on in airports?’ Kieron asked.

‘Did I mention I play the cello?’ Tara said. ‘I’ve got a cello case in the back of this cabin. No cello – I must have left that back in Albuquerque – but this thing will sit very nicely inside. And, funnily enough, I can operate it remotely by flipping one of the catches on the case. The microwave beam doesn’t care whether it’s inside the case or not – it’ll still cause you agonising pain.’

Walking out into the late-evening heat, Kieron saw that they’d landed near an enormous complex of airfield buildings. A limousine stood nearby on the tarmac with its engine idling. At the bottom of the steps were three Israeli immigration officials. They checked the paperwork Tara gave them, nodded and stamped it. They even made a joke about her cello case.

The limousine pulled away from the aircraft. Kieron and Todd sat in the back; Tara sat in the front.

The sky was blue, but it seemed like a different blue from Albuquerque, and very different from the grey British skies. Everything seemed new: the roads, the buildings, even the clothes that people wore. The buildings were mainly square and bold, with wide expanses of glass. Nothing complicated or ornate.

‘I like the Israelis,’ Todd said suddenly, as they drove in the air-conditioned car. ‘They’re an immensely practical people. Likely to be good customers as well, given their touchy relationship with Hamas and the Palestinians.’

Within fifteen minutes they had left Tel Aviv and were driving through a dusty arid landscape. They passed road signs for places with names like Kfar Truman, Shoham, Bareket and El’ad. Despite his anxiety Kieron noted the orange groves lining the roads: orchards full of orange trees growing out of the baked earth like something miraculous.

Just as Kieron could bear the tension no longer, the limousine turned off the highway onto an unmarked road. As in Albuquerque, the Goldfinch Institute here seemed to value its privacy. Five minutes later, over the horizon appeared a mass of glass-covered buildings, none of which went higher than two storeys. Antennas and aerials covered the roofs. The only difference between this complex and the one in Albuquerque was that here the glass was red whereas there it was blue.

‘Nice place,’ Kieron said.

‘Enjoy the view,’ Todd said lightly. ‘You’ve already had your last night’s sleep, eaten your last meal and drunk your last drink. This will be one of the last things you ever see. Make the most of it.’

The security guard at the gate must have recognised the limousine because the metal plates – identical to the ones in Albuquerque – slid into the ground as they drove towards it. Once inside the double fence, they slowed to a halt. The driver got out and opened the doors for Todd, Tara and then finally for Kieron. They all climbed out.

Kieron slid the ARCC glasses out of his pocket and put them on. He had no idea whether there was anyone on the other end watching, but he had to hope. Without hope he had nothing.

Tara stared suspiciously at him. ‘Short-sighted,’ he said, tapping the frame. ‘I’ve never been to Israel before: I’d like at least to get a look at the place before I die.’

‘Check him,’ Todd said to Tara, nodding towards Kieron. ‘He’s clever. I want to make sure he hasn’t got any transmitters on him.’

Tara strode across to the security booth and went inside. Moments later she came back out with a small black box the size of a mobile phone. She pressed a button on it and held it out towards Kieron as she walked quickly back. He winced slightly as he saw a red light come on.

‘There’s something on him,’ she said, frowning. ‘Do you want me to search him?’

Todd shook his head. ‘That thing can jam any signal it detects, can’t it?’

Tara nodded.

‘OK then,’ Todd continued. ‘Just set it to jam any signal it detects coming from him. We’ll worry about what it is later.’

Tara input some instructions into the device, then held it up and waved it at Kieron. ‘Whatever you were transmitting, kid, nobody’s going to hear it.’

‘Right,’ Todd said as a golf cart appeared from the direction of the red glass buildings. ‘Let’s start. Although for you, I’m sorry to say, it’s going to be more of a finish. As in: an hour from now, you’ll be dead.’