‘There’s a massive meeting being held in Gilchrist’s office today. All the security heads are going to be there. Tom from Level One heard it from Julie, who knows someone who works near Suzanne Brett’s office.’ Brett was the overseer for Level Five and directly under Gilchrist’s command.
A low whisper carried around the room. ‘Yeah, I saw Daphne Gilchrist in the lobby this morning, flanked by her minions.’
‘That woman puts the frighteners up me,’ said Chris.
‘All women scare you,’ said Laura. ‘Any of those who have a bit of power, that is.’
‘Not all women, just the ball breakers. She has the power to castrate men with her stare.’
‘Exaggerate much?’ said Janine.
‘I speak the truth,’ said Chris. ‘Did you know that her voice is so loud during meetings it can shatter unbreakable glass?’
‘You are so full of shit.’
The room exploded into peals of laughter.
Another worker cut in. ‘Does anyone know why they’re meeting? I can’t remember the last time all security heads were in one room.’
‘Since when are we ever told about anything in this place?’ said someone else. ‘I barely know what the replicated specials are in the cafeteria, let alone important business that might actually concern us.’
While everyone guessed what the meeting was about, Laura stayed silent. She didn’t remember the last security meeting, guessing it must have been before she started with the ESC.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that something about this one wasn’t right.
15
Bill gathered his surveillance team in the heart of no man’s land, an area of rocky terrain that stretched between New London and the next city on Exilon 5. The sky was a deep blue, speckled with tinges of purple and green. The occasional floating cloud provided little protection across acres of the red and gold-tinted stony landscape. The single road that provided the only access in and out of New London lent a sense of normality to a seemingly chaotic design. Soon, when funding came through from the government, a dozen similar roads would cut across the surface close to the city to offer a vital transport network.
Bill could hear animals close by, probably on the hunt for that easy kill. Resurrected from preserved DNA, the animals lived in special biodomes on the borders of the six cities. Each dome contained a variety of predators, vegetarians and birds, living together as natural companions as well as enemies. It was usual for the predators—lions, wolves, coyotes—to leave the biodomes, but the animals usually retreated to the one place where a meal was always guaranteed.
Bill chose a spot ten miles from New London’s city limits. He knew the predators only ventured out a mile, maybe two at most, where food was most likely, and by staying downwind of the biodomes, there was less risk of the animals picking up their scent. He could have assembled the team in his ITF-bugged apartment, but what he had to say was off the record.
There were seven people on Bill’s surveillance crew, including Caldwell and Page. He stood facing the group and directed his first question at the two officers who had disobeyed him.
‘I need to understand why you went against my direct order not to move in.’
Page spoke first. ‘We did exactly what we needed to do.’
‘What the hell does that mean?’
‘She means there was no danger to the overall mission,’ said Caldwell. ‘We needed to get close to the alien, so we made the call and moved in. It didn’t see or recognise us, so I’m not really sure what the problem is.’
Bill pinched the bridge of his nose, leaving behind a red mark. ‘How do you know that? How could you tell? Page was right there, part of the running group that passed by. It’s an alien, which we know very little about. Do you know something about its abilities that we don’t?’ His eyes scanned the length of the group. Everybody stood at military ease, staring at a blank point in front of them. Except for Page and Caldwell, no one else dared to make eye contact.
‘No, we’re not saying that,’ said Page. ‘We needed to make our move before the alien left. You were taking too long.’
‘Would you like to hear what I think?’ Bill didn’t wait for an answer. ‘It seemed pretty obvious to me that the Indigene knew exactly where you were and what you were, Page. That was made all the more obvious when you moved in a second time. That was what spooked it and sent it hurtling out of the park. You then decided to chase it and wound up losing track of it. If any of this seems unfamiliar, please feel free to interrupt.’
‘We didn’t lose it,’ said Caldwell. ‘We know exactly where it went. Into the Maglev station at Victoria. We tracked it all the way.’
Bill looked the stocky military man in the eye. ‘But did you catch it?’
‘No, but—’
‘Then, you lost it.’ He clapped his hands together. Officer Page jumped.
The rest of the group stayed silent.
‘No offence, Taggart, but Special Ops was never a right fit for this mission,’ said Caldwell. ‘This is pursuit and catch, plain and simple. That’s what we’re all trained for. We did everything humanly possible to catch our subject. I don’t see how your presence could have changed the outcome.’
Bill’s face deepened in colour.
Page tried to defuse the situation. ‘Officers Wilson and Garrett followed the alien as far as the westbound platform, but it had vanished by the time they got there. A follow-up search of the tunnels turned up nothing. We think one possibility is that it may have exited from another station, further down the line.’
‘So, here we are back at square one. Again.’ Bill craved a hot cup of coffee and a nice piece of meat lasagne from his favourite restaurant.
‘We do have something new,’ said Page. ‘We have the recording device. Audio and visual.’
Bill frowned. ‘Yes, but apart from a handful of trivial new facts, we still don’t know what they are or, more importantly, what they’re going to do next.’
‘Next?’ said Page.
‘Yes! Next. Why they are here at all. Why they surfaced. Why they are killing people.’ The chance to question one of the Indigenes had slipped through his fingers.
I’m so sorry, Isla. I’ve failed you.
In Bill’s head, Isla replied. It’s not your fault, not this time.
Bill groaned. How was he going to explain this mess to Daphne Gilchrist? It had taken years for him to build trust, but now it hung in the balance. He’d almost guaranteed the World Government and the ESC a result from the day’s operation. An alien to question, at a minimum. He had assured them the Indigene wouldn’t be expecting them at the meeting.
Had the alien known all along? Had Bill been played?
Around noon, Bill disbanded the meeting and headed to Cantaloupe alone. The smell of home-cooked meat always drew him back there, evoking childhood memories of his parents and their monthly Friday family meals. His mother used to scrimp and save each month so she could afford to buy the raw ingredients on the black market. It was the only place people could get them and invariably the most expensive.
He took his usual seat by the window and ordered lunch. As he waited for his food, he pondered the day’s events. Today had been the best opportunity for him to find out more about what had happened to Isla. Could he have done anything to change the outcome? The Indigene must have had an agenda when it agreed to meet the boy for a second time.
Ben Watson had been targeted for a reason. Why?
Had the Indigene race’s existence been peaceful before humans had arrived? What if humans had been the catalyst for their change; fuel for their hatred? Historically, many species had suffered at the hands of humans in the pursuit of greater and more powerful outcomes. But that didn’t give the Indigenes the right to kill humans in retaliation for whatever mistakes the government had made years earlier.
The anger subsided and left him feeling drained, both emotionally and physically. He was sure the Indigene would disappear; it had already tak
en a massive risk by surfacing during daylight hours. But something else about the alien bothered him. The intel reports said that the Indigenes were a sub-intelligent race, but the filtration device, the artificial skin and the ability to communicate were all signs of intelligence.
What would Isla have done? She’d have been fascinated by the Indigenes and would have worked hard to understand them. For the first time, Bill wondered what Stephen’s story was.
The waitress arrived with a plate of lasagne, a side order of bread and a strong cup of coffee. He scooped mouthfuls of the hot lasagne into his hungry mouth. A few minutes later, he mopped up the remaining tomato sauce with his last slice of bread. He sat back in his chair and rubbed his distended belly. When he’d worked directly for the World Government, he was fit and toned, but ITF didn’t enforce the fitness rule and since Isla’s death, there hadn’t been any reason to keep it up. He could already feel the heartburn beginning to set in.
He sipped on his black coffee and leaned back in his chair, trying to relax, watching the people of New London on the streets outside. Although the numbers had eased off, the transfer programme to Exilon 5 had progressed as expected. The World Government had done well to ease the residents into their new life. The poor air, the gel breathing masks and the overcrowding weren’t issues on Exilon 5. Yet.
Bill’s eye was caught by one of the tacky neon digital library signs welcoming people inside. People weren’t interested in libraries any more, and so few knew the history of how humans had ended up on Exilon 5.
Many exoplanets had been discovered over the last century and a half, including one called COROT-7b in 2009, which had the same density as Earth. But none could support human life.
When he was a child, Bill’s father had told him about the ship designs, how they were improving each year, and that soon they would discover a suitable planet. The first of the people-carrying ships had been in operation since 2115, before he was born. They’d designed a hyper drive, invented by a lecturer in Astrophysics in Trinity College Dublin. Professor Tessa Gogarty had also been a propulsion engineer and her contributions had helped to revolutionise space travel.
Years later, and, just as his father had predicted, Exilon 5 was discovered at the same time the Gogarty Hyper Drive 8.0 was used in the newer ships. The new hyper drive shortened the travel time between Earth and Exilon 5. Currently, the journey only took two weeks.
Bill jumped as his communication device shrilled in his ear. The unique tone identified a call from the Earth Security Centre. He activated the earpiece.
‘Bill, is that you?’ said Daphne Gilchrist.
‘Yes.’ His pulse raced. He wasn’t ready to have this conversation.
‘Charles Deighton asked that I contact you directly. I’m reading through your preliminary report at the moment. Not looking good, is it?’
There were a few patrons in the restaurant. He tried to keep his voice low. ‘I know. There were problems with the personnel I was assigned. They disobeyed a direct order.’
‘Not my problem, Bill. This was your operation. You were in charge and you promised results. This is not a result that either Charles or I are interested in.’
Bill couldn’t have agreed more. ‘The mission wasn’t a total write-off. We got some extra data on the subject that could be worth analysing. I’ve already sent you a subsection of it. The rest will follow later today.’
‘Ah yes, the data. It’s being analysed by our team at the Centre as we speak. Have the rest of it here in the next hour.’
There was a brief silence. Bill tried to think of something worthwhile to add.
Gilchrist saved him the trouble. ‘There does seem to be some new information there that may prove useful. But it’s not what we were expecting. I assume the Indigene’s location is still a mystery?’
‘My team followed it as far as the track before it disappeared into Victoria’s tunnels. We think it exited from another station.’
‘So how likely is it that the alien will reappear anytime soon?’
‘Slim, I would think. It knows we were watching.’ Bill cringed. He should have picked up on that earlier.
‘There’s a passenger ship leaving for Earth tomorrow. Be on it. I’ll see you at the ESC for a debriefing in two weeks. Out.’ Gilchrist severed the connection.
Bill leaned forward, and rested his elbows on the table. An order to return home meant he was off the case.
The waitress caught his eye and held up a beer bottle. He waved her away and turned to look out the window. The opportunity to track down Isla’s killers was slipping through his fingers. He would need to somehow convince Gilchrist to keep him on the investigation so he could continue his search. But with the Indigene gone from sight and unlikely to reappear for some time, returning to Earth was the only option left.
Later, back at his apartment, he prepared the video and audio files to be sent to the Earth Security Centre, and tossed his meagre possessions into his suitcase. A sudden bout of dizziness caught him off-guard. His belly was full but his mental capacity was running on fumes. Today’s result had been a massive setback, professionally and personally. He cursed the military officers for their impatience. It would be a long time before he would trust anyone again.
His eyes felt heavy, but he was too wired to sleep. He dropped his suitcase by the door, sat down and combed through the files over the next hour, hoping he might find a clue that he’d overlooked. There was nothing. He fired off the remaining results to the ESC via their encrypted channel.
He got up and paced the room. An order to return home meant facing his demons. If he wanted his privacy he would have to live once again in the apartment he shared with Isla.
He wasn’t ready; the memories were too raw.
Isla was still out there. And he was positive the Indigene Stephen knew exactly where she was.
16
Daphne Gilchrist paced back and forth at the top of the large meeting room which adjoined her office on Level Seven. The underground space was built to be impenetrable, as were all the levels in the Earth Security Centre, except for those numbered one to four where the security was lighter. An oval-shaped walnut table dominated, and sat on a circular cream-and-black rug. Twelve hand-carved chairs hugged the table’s edge. A solitary painting hung on one wall: a concentric pattern of rings in black and charcoal grey, meant to represent the force fields that surrounded the lower offices.
Sitting around the glossy table were Suzanne Brett, overseer for Level Five, and nine representatives for the various ITF security branches ranging from San Francisco to London to Bangladesh.
‘So, people, what are we going to do?’ said Daphne. Wearing a grey trouser suit, she looked younger than her eighty-eight years. Her red hair hung to the nape of her neck and was curled neatly under.
The reps and Suzanne sat in silence. They were all subordinates in Daphne’s presence but had power in their respective roles.
She locked eyes with Simon Shaw, the rep for the London ITF office, where Bill Taggart was stationed. He looked away from her penetrating stare. Daphne wasn’t an easy person to deal with.
Her father had been a strong, domineering character, ruling his home with an iron fist while her mother showed weakness in his presence. Her father had liked rules. People were unpredictable, he’d said, and needed to be reined in. His influence had helped Daphne to become a successful businesswoman, while her mother only convinced her that she should never become a doormat.
She took her seat at the head of the table and tapped a single, clear-polished nail on the table’s lacquered surface. Her male personal assistant sat to her right; Daphne often hired men because they were easier to read. Her assistant was using a DPad to record the meeting details. She didn’t like to use the roving cameras because they tended to pick up too much. With the DPad, she could erase anything that might show her in a bad light.
‘It appears from Bill Taggart’s preliminary report that we face a serious problem. In fact, we’re well
away from where we expected to be at this stage in the investigation. What I need are solutions and I need them now. Raise your hand if you want to speak.’
She liked formality, structure. She had spent a large part of her working life in Osaka, Japan.
Simon Shaw, head of the London ITF office, raised his hand. He cleared his throat.
‘I can vouch for Bill Taggart. He’s the best investigator to come out of my office. His performance on other missions has been exemplary and I am personally quite confide—’
‘I know exactly where he came from, Shaw,’ said Daphne. ‘I placed him there myself, if you recall. I don’t need you to recite his credentials to me. This isn’t an interview. If that’s all you have to say—’
‘No. What I’m trying to say is that we should wait until Taggart gets here for the debriefing. I’m suggesting we hear him out. I’m confident he will find another way forward.’
She locked her cold blue eyes on his thin face. ‘We can’t base all our efforts on the faint hope that Mr Taggart will know what to do. It’s our job to determine the course of this investigation. What happened this morning was no mistake. His team executed his plan as instructed and it failed. Plain and simple. Bill Taggart is not ready to lead the investigation.’
‘I’m not saying he’s perfect, but—’
‘Someone else who is not part of the London office, please.’
Shaw sat back in his chair, angry and mortified.
Daphne had no time for touchy-feely emotions. She had worked as CEO of the Earth Security Centre for the last twenty years and had learned to play the game the way the men did.
The representative from the Bangladesh office raised his hand. Daphne nodded at him. ‘Was there an issue with the military personnel Taggart had been assigned?’ he said. ‘I heard there was insubordination among the ranks.’