*     *     *

Pregnant. It was more than hard to believe, almost impossible. But it was true. She’d known it instinctively when she had rushed to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Pregnant! How could she be pregnant? It wasn’t possible. Mistakes happened, but not to her. She had confronted Shelton. It was no mistake. It was all a part of his great plan. The rational part of her the part that knew more about The Adam Project than she would ever reveal to Shelton, understood why he had done what he had. Why he had chosen her. That same part of her, the cold core of her being, complemented him on his choice, but the rest of her was horrified. And yet, what choice did she have? She couldn’t abort. Any attempt to harm the life growing within her would mean death for herself. If she hadn’t known that before, it had been confirmed when she confronted Shelton earlier. His words, his tone had been nothing but conciliatory, almost obsequious, but his eyes told a different story. His eyes had glimmered with a humour he had struggled to contain and a harshness she could not ignore.

Her health and well being were of the utmost importance, anything she desired, within reason, was hers. What she wanted was to be rid of the abomination growing inside her. The thought of bringing a child into this world was almost unconscionable, even to someone like herself, her own childhood had shown her that, but her own history would be nothing compared to whatever foul imaginings Shelton had already conjured up for Alex’s child, and she wanted no part in that. But she had no choice.

 

One o’clock. Madeleine dialled The Courier. She heard the operator’s voice, recognised it from earlier.

“Henry Russo, please. He’s expecting my call.”

“And who shall I say is on the line?”

“Tell him it’s Madeleine.” She chewed nervously on a fingernail.”

The connection was put through and she heard the reporter’s voice.

“This is Henry. You’re very prompt, Madeleine.”

“You said one o’clock.” Alex leaned closer to listen.

“I did indeed.”

“Well, have you checked out what I told you?” The nervous tension in her voice was self-evident.

“All the hospitals and the morgue, too. It would appear you ran down a phantom, Ms. Whyte.”

Her knuckles whitened on the handset. “But he was there, I ran him down. God, it was awful, I can still feel the thump as I hit him.” Her voice had risen several degrees.

In the Newsroom, Henry listened calmly to her. He was right about this one, he knew it. The one per cent had come through. “Tell me, Madeleine, what does your neighbour, what’s his name, ah yes, Coburn. What does Mr. Coburn look like?”

The question threw Madeleine. “George?”

“Yes, George. Describe him for me.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” The fragility of her voice was replaced by genuine bafflement.

“Just humour me, would you?” Henry requested politely.

Beside her, Alex nodded.

“Well, he’s er, about average height. In his fifties. His hair’s silver grey, what he’s got left. What’s this got to do with what I told you?”

“That’s a very good question, Madeleine, I have a better one for you. Why, when a colleague of mine went to your neighbour’s house, did a man answer the door and declare himself to be George Coburn when you told me earlier that your neighbours are away?”

“What?” Madeleine was stunned.

Henry did not think she was faking her astonishment.

“A man who looks nothing like the description you have just given me.”

A numbness sank into Madeleine’s stomach, a lurching vertiginous sensation.

“Madeleine?” Henry called.

“I… I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I. I think it’s time that you and I met, don’t you?”

“Yes. I mean… does that mean you believe me now?”

“Yes, I rather think it does.”

 

Craven’s hand trembled as he picked up the ‘phone. He glared at his errant appendage, willing himself to control the tremor in his fingers as he dialled the number from memory. The telephone began to ring in his ear. Three short bursts that drilled shrilly into his brain, almost making him recoil. The ‘phone was answered and he heard Anthony Shelton’s voice bark at him. He began to speak.