The walk to her apartment block in Haymarket took longer than usual. Laura was distracted and hadn’t noticed someone following her. It wasn’t until she reached the outer door to her block that she became aware of the sound of movement behind.
The grey skies and dark streets added to her fear. She used every bit of strength to resist the urge to turn around. Instead, she fumbled around in her bag for an object that could double up as a weapon.
She worked out how much time she’d need to activate the lock on the outer door. It would take her thumbprint to open it, but every movement would waste precious time and gave the advantage back to her pursuer. She had no idea how close the person was, but her skin tingled, as if they were nearer than they should have been.
Damn! Nothing in my bag. She scrambled for a plan B. She should have known that her move to Level Five would have brought added dangers. She was reminded of what the worker in booth ten had said to her: what you retain can get you killed. She braced for her pursuer to make a move.
Just face whoever it is and look surprised. Laura prepared to turn around when a hand touched her shoulder. She froze: a reaction that was brought on in part by an icy sensation that seeped through the heavy fabric of her uniform.
‘Don’t try anything. I’m armed and dangerous,’ she said, her voice shaking. She turned a little and gasped when she saw the figure standing inches from her face.
‘Believe me when I say I wouldn’t be here if I had another choice,’ said the man in the black Stetson. ‘I saw you with Bill Taggart just now. I don’t know how else to contact him without risking discovery. I’m going to need your help.’
39
Bill arrived at Level Seven for the scheduled debriefing with Daphne Gilchrist. He took a seat as he waited for her personal assistant to announce his arrival. He was ushered into the boardroom connected to her private office. While the place was familiar to him, this time it felt different. He walked inside, expecting to see a full turnout for the significant debriefing. Instead, just three people waited for him. Gilchrist stood at the top of the room, while Suzanne Brett and Simon Shaw, his boss from the ITF London office, sat on either side of the table.
Gilchrist seemed to read his thoughts. ‘There won’t be anyone else joining us today. This is a closed debriefing. The others will be informed in due course about the outcome of today’s meeting.’
Bill nodded and took a seat at the far end of the oval table. He wondered what this intimate setting might mean for him.
‘Let’s begin, shall we?’ Gilchrist took a seat between Shaw and Brett. ‘We’ve received your files from both meetings and reviewed the evidence. But now I would like to hear your version of events.’
Bill took a short breath before launching into the details of the case. He recounted his orders to the military personnel who’d been given specific instructions that day not to approach the target. He recalled how their advances had caused the target to exit early from the gardens. He identified the pursuit team that had followed the alien and the communication silence they had maintained; both of which—he made quite clear to the debriefing group—he had not authorised.
The trio sat in silence. Neither Brett nor Shaw commented, only nodding with apparent interest. Gilchrist asked the occasional question to clarify. He wondered if the other two were there simply for show, or as witnesses. After fifteen minutes, he summarised.
‘So, where do you think we should go from here?’ said Gilchrist.
Bill had thought long and hard about that on the journey back to Earth and had prepared a textbook answer for the CEO. ‘It’s likely the Indigene won’t risk surfacing again for some time. I suggest we wait.’
‘Wait?’ Gilchrist arched a brow.
‘Yes. Wait a few months and then attempt to track them when they finally resurface.’
‘Is that it?’
‘No. We have a list of people on Exilon 5 who have made inadvertent contact with the Indigenes before this. I plan to talk to them to try to get a different angle on our investigations. It also appears that the Indigenes favour hunting at night and have already surfaced in locations known to us. I’m proposing we set up vigils in the wastelands between the cities, to try to catch them there.’
He knew the solutions he’d offered were weak at best, but he needed to stay on Exilon 5 for as long as possible. It was his best shot at turning the mission around and finding Isla.
‘These are certainly interesting solutions you propose.’ Gilchrist rested a clear-polished finger on her lips. ‘But I’m not sure we have the time, or personnel, to waste on mere chances we might find the aliens.’
Shaw and Brett nodded. Bill felt a sudden need to defend his position. He assumed that at least Shaw, his ITF boss, would back him up.
‘Well, whatever you decide, I want to stay on this investigation.’
Gilchrist smiled. ‘It’s not about what you want, Bill. It’s about what’s best for this mission.’
The thinly veiled calm slipped away. ‘With all due respect, Ms. Gilchrist, I am what’s best for this mission. And you can tell Mr. Deighton I said that if you want. Just give me another chance. Let me pick my team this time and—’
‘There was nothing wrong with your team. More likely, it was your poor handling of the situation that led to the breakdown of communication. Mr. Deighton is fully aware of your abilities, but he doesn’t like failure, certainly not when it’s related to a threat of this magnitude. We need to get the situation under control.’
Bill shut his mouth; now was the time to stay silent if he wanted to save himself from a reassignment to traffic duty.
‘Thank you, Bill.’ Gilchrist stood. ‘We’ll take your points under consideration. We’ll be in touch as soon as we have more detail about how we’ll be progressing.’ She smiled, but her words were lacking sincerity. ‘Head down to the docking station. A craft is waiting to take you to your accommodation here on Earth.’
‘Where am I going?’
‘Washington. Mr Deighton has asked that you be close to headquarters. You may be called in at short notice.’
Bill stood to leave. He glanced at Simon Shaw. He was staring at a spot between him and Gilchrist. At least he wasn’t being fired straight away. He would try to talk his way back onto the investigation, convince Deighton of his value, when the heat had died down.
Bill left the meeting, feeling both relieved and frustrated. He hadn’t been given a chance to defend the outcome on Exilon 5, or his place on the mission. He wished for a life without responsibility, without ties to a government which operated differently to the way he believed things should be done. He considered cutting ties with his bosses. Then he remembered how controlling they were, and he ditched the idea.
He stepped outside, into the dull Sydney afternoon, and fixed his gel mask in place. Since his return, he had managed to repress his bad memories about Earth, but now they came flooding back, coating his thoughts with feelings of despair and regret. He tried to shake off the feelings, along with the painful memories that had etched their way into his mind. But they lingered, strengthened, made him second-guess his decisions, even the good ones. He wished he could start over.
He hated this part of him; this pessimistic side that ruined the good in everything he did. He worked his way through the congestion of people who were too despondent to look up. He reminded himself there was a world that existed beyond this one: a better life that was meant for all of them. His pessimism lashed out, striking his healing heart. Bill pulled at his mask, its tight seal making him feel claustrophobic. The dead eyes of the crowd watched him, willed him to just pull it off, to end his miserable life.
Why was he still here? What was his purpose in this world? Was he getting closer to or further away from the truth about Isla?
The desperation in the crowd’s eyes stopped him, melted away some of the pain. He wasn’t like them. He was better. He had passion, an inner drive to live. Until that passion was gone, he would fight on.
&nbs
p; Bill secured the already-tight mask on his face and increased his step in the direction of the docking station at Sydney’s harbour front. The sound of steady footfall behind him increased. He tuned in to it. A step and a half was being taken for each of his long strides. He kept his eyes forward.
Of course. Larry Hunt had finally come for him. News of his return to Earth must have reached the businessman in prison. He had sent one of his henchmen to finish him off. Bill touched his shoulder, where they had knifed him some time ago. He quickened his pace, keen to get some distance between him and his pursuer. He didn’t want to shake them. He wanted them to follow.
Bill crossed on to George Street, wondering if he should make a run for it or face them head on. In his mind, he had replayed this very moment, worked out what he might do. But his thoughts, aggravated by fear, had lost all their usual clarity. He weaved in and out of the crowds, and suppressed the urge to stop and confront them on the busy thoroughfare.
He kept moving, keen to draw them away to a place that was more private. He hadn’t planned on what he might do after that. Heading north towards the harbour, he stayed on the street that would lead him to the area known as the Rocks. His pulse raced as he tried to think of a way out of this mess.
Bill saw an opportunity as he reached a road junction. He took the road heading west and slowed down for his follower. Confident that they had taken the same route, he ducked into a nearby alleyway and hid behind a series of crates that had been stacked outside an unused replication terminal. He watched for the feet of his potential assailants as they approached his hiding place. When only one set passed by, he made his move. He stilled when he saw his pursuer, but forced his shock to one side and moved in. Grabbing her from behind, he spun her around and closed one hand around her throat. Her head made a dull thudding sound as it made contact with the wall.
‘Who are you?’ He took in the face of the young woman he’d seen earlier in the foyer of the ESC. Her eyes and mouth were wide. He loosened his tight grip on her throat and repeated himself. ‘I said, who are you? Why are you following me?’
‘Please, you’re hurting me!’ She curled her hands around his arm.
‘Then you’d better hurry up and tell me who you are. I saw you at the Security Centre earlier. I want to know why you’re following me. Do you work for Hunt?’
‘I don’t know anyone called Hunt.’ The woman coughed. ‘My name is Laura O’Halloran. Please, let me go.’
Seeing the fear on her face, Bill dropped his hand. Laura rubbed her neck and coughed again.
He stepped away from her, embarrassed by his heavy-handedness; her slender frame meant she was no match for his strength. He sharpened his composure. ‘Who do you work for?’
Laura coughed again. ‘I work for the Earth Security Centre, in the High Level Data Storage Facility. I just needed to talk to you for a moment.’
He tipped his chin at her. ‘Prove it.’
‘I don’t have any way of proving it to you. Unless you have a chip-scanner handy?’
Bill shook his head.
Laura showed him the uniform under her coat. ‘They don’t give these out to just anyone.’ She pointed to the security tags sewn onto the shoulders of her jacket.
Bill tilted one of the tags. A security hologram showed a special code as he moved it. The hologram-embedded tags were difficult to replicate. ‘You should really think twice about sneaking up on people like that. I could have killed you.’
‘I’ll try to remember that in future.’
‘What exactly do you want to talk to me about?’
‘Your most recent investigation on Exilon 5.’
Bill’s gaze narrowed. ‘Why?’
‘I’ve recently been given some information that directly relates to your current case. I also promised someone that I would find you and ask for your help.’
‘Who? For what exactly?’
Laura looked around. ‘I can’t say here. I need you to come with me. I’m taking a risk just by being here. You need to trust me. Please.’ Her voice was shaky.
In all his years working for the World Government, not once had anyone asked for his help. He had always been asked to help: head up missions, profile criminals, track wanted felons. If this turned out to be a trick, Bill would pay heavily for his trust. But he sensed no malice in the woman’s tone; only warmth and compassion. It had been a long time since he’d cared about a cause other than his own.
‘Okay. I don’t know why, but you have my attention. Where are you taking me?’
‘Back to my apartment.’
40
Laura led an uneasy Bill back to her apartment. He had no reason to trust her but the fact he’d come this far was encouraging. She motioned him inside but he kept a small distance behind her. She didn’t blame him for his hesitation; for all he knew, she could be leading him into a trap. The man was on edge and one small push would be all it would take to tip him over. Once inside, she closed the door to prevent the investigator from changing his mind.
Bill seemed to relax as he looked around her apartment, which was generous for Earth accommodation. ‘How big is this place?’
‘Big enough to have a separate bedroom, if that’s what you mean,’ said Laura.
Bill let out a low whistle. ‘I’ve only read about apartments this size on Earth. You can get hold of these easy on Exilon 5, you know. You must be doing well to have been given this, considering you live alone.’
‘I do okay. Job perk, I guess.’ She shrugged, as Bill pulled a magnetised item no bigger than a rolling dice from his pocket and attached it to the front of the Light Box’s hardware unit. ‘What’s that?’
‘A sound interrupter. So we can talk in private.’
Laura tensed up. ‘Please don’t feel like this is a trick. It’s not. I brought you here because I need you to meet someone. Before I bring him out, though, I need you to keep an open mind.’
Bill frowned at her. ‘An open mind, for what?’
She called out to the empty space. ‘It’s okay. You can come out. It is just me, and I’ve brought Bill Taggart.’
The investigator tensed up as the bedroom door creaked open.
A tall figure dressed in a blue suit emerged from the darkened room. He made a move towards them. ‘Hello, Bill. I believe you already know who I am.’ He spoke slowly, deliberately, his eyes fixed on the investigator’s every move. ‘I would like to formally introduce myself. My name is Stephen.’
41
Daphne Gilchrist dismissed Shaw and Brett as soon as Bill Taggart stepped through the turbo lift door. She had relocated to her private office and closed the door behind her. Taking a seat in her leather chair, she addressed the sergeant on her monitor.
‘Well?’
‘Yes, we have him in custody. We have transferred him to a secured facility in Washington.’
‘Good work, Sergeant. Your superiors will receive a glowing report about your team’s work today.’
‘Thank you, Ms Gilchrist. I appreciate your words.’
‘Out.’ Daphne made a face as soon as the connection was severed; she couldn’t stand the military. She had no use for them other than to apprehend difficult targets.
Taggart hadn’t been to blame for the breakdown of the operation on Exilon 5; it was impossible to control military personnel at the best of times. The decision to keep Special Ops out of it had been at Charles Deighton’s request. He was concerned that Bill was getting too close to the truth about the Indigenes and his wife, and the military were an easy way to rein him in. The purpose of the mission had been to drive the Indigenes out of their hiding places, and they had been successful in doing that. It had just taken longer than they’d anticipated. They hadn’t accounted for one of them to travel to Earth.
Within the hour, Daphne arrived in Washington on a specially chartered craft. She made her way through the front entrance of the World Government, and veered off down a corridor to the left towards a hidden area that housed a turbo lift, conne
cting the surface to the secret underground levels. The levels contained a number of bunkers, set deep beneath the streets above.
The lift took just seconds to reach the requested floor. The door opened to three weapon-carrying officers patrolling the bunker security area. The security system could more than handle unauthorised entries and escape attempts, but Charles Deighton didn’t like leaving anything to chance and had ordered additional firepower. Many considered Deighton to be nothing more than a figurehead for the World Government, but his main role was to protect the investment of the twelve members, of which he was secretly one.
It took a short time for Daphne to gain clearance through the scanning station. Both of her chips were scanned and her DNA sampled and cross-referenced against the database copy. The referencing was an extra security measure; facial manipulation was popular among the radicals.
One of the officers led Daphne down a corridor to the door at the end. Charles Deighton was waiting for her inside, along with the overseer for security matters in the World Government.
‘Ah, Daphne. I see you made it.’ Deighton greeted her as if they were old friends, kissing her on both cheeks. ‘So good to see you.’ The words dripped off the old man’s tongue like honey. There was an easy yet guarded familiarity between the two.
‘Charles! I hope you haven’t started without me.’ Daphne performed for her boss. ‘What’s with all the extra security measures outside?’
He laughed a throaty cackle. ‘I thought you might comment on that. Can’t be too careful, these days. You never know who’s trying to hurt us.’ He nodded towards the flexible membrane containment unit where the captured Indigene watched the trio in perfect silence.
‘Daphne, you remember Tom Billings? He’s here as a witness to the proceedings.’ Deighton laughed a little.
‘Ms Gilchrist.’ The security overseer nodded and offered her his hand. She shook it.