‘Good morning, Kyla,’ she says, finally. ‘How are you today?’
‘Fine. And you?’
She pauses. ‘I’m well, thank you. But I realised something after our last meeting. We’ve been playing cat and mouse, you and I.’
‘Am I the cat or the mouse?’ I quip, before sense can stop me.
‘You should be the mouse, but sometimes I’m not so sure. I want some answers, Kyla.’
‘I have questions, too.’
Annoyance wars with curiosity on her face. ‘All right,’ she says at last. ‘You ask one, and I will answer it; then it will be your turn. Deal?’
‘Deal,’ I say, though caution says it would be better for her to go first. I search for the words.
‘Well?’
‘You remember Ben: Ben Nix. My friend,’ I say, and she inclines her head slightly. ‘I want to know what happened to him. Where he is now.’
‘I’ve already told you, I don’t know.’
‘You knew he cut off his Levo; you said so. You must know something.’
‘You knew also, and I never asked you about that. But as far as what happened to him afterwards, I looked at the time: that information wasn’t on our system.’ She sighs. ‘Look, I’ll prove it, all right?’
She opens her computer. ‘Come round, and you shall see with your own eyes. Surname Nix, did you say?’
I nod. She taps ‘Ben Nix’ into the search box.
Nil return.
‘Perhaps he was a Benjamin.’ She tries that: nil return.
‘I don’t understand.’ She frowns, then her face clears. ‘He will be in your notes. Yes. I cross-referenced him under your friends and family listings.’ She switches screens. ‘Yes, here is his number.’ She taps at the screen again.
Nil return.
Her face flickers between anger and something else. She closes the computer.
‘What is it?’ I ask.
She sits back, takes her glasses off, rubs her eyes. She looks different without them – they are harsh, heavy black frames. Her eyes without the lens magnification look tired, more human. She puts them back on.
‘He must have been deleted.’
‘What does that mean? Is he…’
‘Is he dead? I don’t know. Merely dying isn’t enough to delete you from these records, Kyla. Even I haven’t got clearance to delete a record from the system. No one at the hospital can, not even the Board. I can create new patient files, update them, edit them, but not delete them. It is against every rule. Yet it is like he never existed.’
‘Who could do that?’
‘Nameless faces, with…’ She stops. ‘Are you the cat, am I the mouse? Enough of your questions. You can see I have answered you, as much as I can, and told you things I should not. It is your turn. Tell me: have you had any more memories come back?’ She leans forward, face still carefully detached, but behind it is eagerness, curiosity.
There is part of me that longs to tell her everything. She could see what has happened to me, explain it. But danger. No one can know. I’m on the Lorder radar: who knows if they listen?
And my eyes are looking, searching about the room. There could be listening devices in here, hidden anywhere.
‘What is it?’
‘Not here. I can’t talk about it here. I don’t feel safe.’
‘I can assure you, this room is not monitored. It would be a complete breach of doctor-patient confidentiality.’
‘Is that a bigger rule to break than deleting a patient record?’
She half opens her mouth, closes it again. Thinks a moment.
She writes on a slip of paper, then hands it across: meet me 9 am on Tuesday it says. A bridleway near my school is marked on a rough map sketched underneath.
With so many reasons to say no I clutch the paper in my hand. Nod.
‘Can you ride?’ she asks.
‘Yes,’ I say, the word out before I even know if it is true. And it is. There is a flash of memory, horses running across a field. Jumping a low fence: like flying!
‘What is it, Kyla?’
‘I remember,’ I whisper. ‘A horse. Black and white. We could fly!’
And her eyes hunger to know, to know everything. To see what went wrong inside my head.
But if her curiosity is satisfied, what then?
Once home from the hospital I stare at Nico’s envelope in my room, willing it to reveal its secrets.
I could open it; see what is inside. I shove it in my pocket and head downstairs.
‘I’m going to Cam’s,’ I announce, put shoes on, and open the door.
I step out, pause, and stick my head back in. ‘Mum?’ I call.
‘What?’ She comes into the hall.
‘This was stuck in the door. It’s got your name on it.’ I hold out Nico’s envelope, not hidden where Mum could find it alone as instructed. But I have to know. What is in it, what is her reaction?
She frowns, takes it. Tears it open and pulls out a sheet of paper. Scans it and her eyes widen. A sharp intake of breath.
‘What is it?’
‘Nothing important,’ she lies, and shoves it in her pocket.
I stare back at her, disbelieving, and for a second her eyes relent, there is indecision there. She is on the verge of telling me something, whether the truth or some other story. There are so many secrets between us. Will she open up? If she does, will I?
Rat-a-tat-tat.
We both jump.
Mum opens the door. ‘Cam, hi. Come in.’
He steps in, looks between us as if he senses something is up.
‘Great minds think alike,’ I say. ‘I was just about to come over to see if you want to go for a walk?’
‘Sure,’ Cam says. ‘But first I’ve got a question. What should I wear to this thing on AMD?’ Mum and I both look at him, surprised, and he looks between us. ‘Uh-oh, he didn’t tell you, did he?’
‘Who? Tell us what?’ I ask.
‘Your dad. He asked if I want to come along to this ceremony thing with you, so I can take you home before the dinner.’
My eyes widen with alarm; I fight not to show it. No, Cam! Don’t be there. Who knows what will happen?
‘But if you don’t want me to come…’
Mum jumps in. ‘No, of course we do, Cam. That’s a good idea! Just didn’t know, that’s all. Suit and tie needed, I’m afraid.’
And I make the right sort of sounds, and try to make it convincing. While thinking what can I say to make him not come, once we’re alone.
‘Time we head out for a walk,’ I say. ‘Before it gets dark.’
‘Cam, a question before you go,’ Mum says. ‘Have you seen anybody out front of our house today?’
His eyes flick to me, back to her. ‘Don’t think so. Just Kyla coming out then going back in a moment ago. Why?’
‘No reason. Go on, you two.’
We walk up the footpath above the village. I look at Cam sideways. ‘You don’t want to come to this stupid ceremony at Chequers.’
‘Sure I do! A chance to get all dressed up, and rub shoulders with the great and the good. What’s not to like?’
‘It’s going to be really boring.’
‘Probably!’ He grins, and winks. ‘But you’ll be there.’
‘Cut the lines, bonehead. It’ll be speeches, politicians. Lorders everywhere. If there was any way I could get out of it, I would.’
‘That is why I’m going. So I can whisk you away after. So no buts.’
We reach the top lookout, and with Cam there, demons are exorcised. He does a Tarzan impression swinging off the side of a tree, and I laugh, standing in late afternoon sunshine. The sun is low in the sky; soon it will be dark. I shiver.
‘Come on, we best
start back,’ I say, and he follows as I head down the path.
‘So,’ he says. ‘Are you going to tell me what is going on with you? It’s obvious something is on your mind.’
‘Nothing.’
‘Don’t take me for an idiot.’
‘I don’t,’ I say. Shrug, hesitate. ‘It’s just the usual.’
‘The usual and mysterious?’
‘Pretty much.’
He holds my hand on the way down. Says goodbye out front. Adds, in a low voice, that if I ever need a friend to talk to, he is there.
But I can’t put him in danger like that.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
* * *
Nico pulls up at the back of a pub. We get out of his car and he knocks on the back door; it opens. We walk through a kitchen, then connecting rooms. The building is old, very – thatched roof, uneven floors, strange nooks and crannies in higgledy rooms. There are faint voices, people, to the front of the building. A back room with a few mismatched tables and chairs is empty. There is another door at the back of it: Nico opens it to reveal a small storage room.
‘In you get,’ he says.
‘Thanks for letting me come.’
He smiles. ‘This is something you have set in motion. What happens in this meeting will affect you. I thought you should listen in. Now, in. Be quiet.’ He glances at his watch. ‘If things go to plan it won’t be long.’
He shuts the door; there is a grating in it I can just peer through. Perhaps ten minutes later the man who let us in the back door comes in, carrying a tray of tea things. Behind him is Mum.
She sits down across from Nico. Pale; hands fluttering until she knots them together. Her eyes look this way and that, even at the door where I’m hiding, and I involuntarily shrink back despite knowing she can’t see into this dark room.
‘Tea?’ Nico says.
‘Where is he?’ she says.
He pours cups of tea, puts one in front of her. Saying nothing and I can see her fighting to not ask again. Failing.
‘Where is my son?’ Ah…Robert. That is the carrot he used to get her here. ‘You said he’d be here!’ She starts to stand.
‘I said, come if want to see your son again. I didn’t say he would be here.’
She pauses, eyes guarded. She lowers herself back into her chair.
‘Well?’ she says.
‘We know where he is.’
‘I’ve been trying to find him for years.’
He raises an eyebrow. ‘We may have sources you cannot access.’
‘Who are you, exactly?’
‘I think you know.’
‘I guess, but I want to hear you say it.’
Nico’s lips quirk. He’s amused. He is playing with her, and some part of me wants to rip the door open, and yell at both of them to just say what they are thinking.
She does just that. ‘You killed my parents; you bombed my son’s bus.’
He shakes his head slightly. ‘I’m not old enough to have done the former, and that isn’t quite what happened to the latter.’
‘Oh?’
‘You know what happened to Robert.’ A statement, not a question.
‘I have sources, too.’
‘And?’
She sighs. ‘The official version of events is that he was killed in the bus bombing, but he was seen alive and well soon after. He must have been Slated.’
‘You do realise, that if you see him, he won’t even know who you are.’
She doesn’t answer; her shoulders are slumped. Of course she knows that.
‘Think about what has been done to you,’ Nico says. ‘What is done to countless mothers and fathers.’
‘To their children,’ she whispers.
‘You have a chance to do something about it.’
‘Your ways are not mine.’
He inclines his head. ‘I’m not suggesting they are. But there is something you can do. Help future parents and children not go through what you have gone through. Make no mistake, the Lorders are behind it all: if not for them we’d have no reason to be here.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘Armstrong Memorial Day. When you give your speech, at Chequers. It is televised live?’
‘Yes. It is every year. But—’
‘Tell the whole country about your son. Your Robert. Begin with the usual, the tragic loss of your parents. Then mention Robert was also killed by terrorist bombs – then tell the truth about what happened to him. That the Lorders break their own laws. If you take the secrecy away – if the people know what really goes on – they’ll stop it.’
She shakes her head. ‘It’ll never work. The Lorders will cut the transmission.’
‘I have sources. I can assure you, this broadcast is truly live. There is no delay. You’ll be able to get it out fast enough if you are clever how you say it.’
‘And then?’
‘You are someone the people will believe. It will be the beginning of the end for the Lorders. And we’ll take you to Robert.’
My stomach is in knots. What will she decide? What will Nico do if it isn’t what he wants?
But then, as she starts to say something, he silences her with a raised hand. ‘You need to think about this, about what to do. Don’t decide now. Go.’
She gets up from the table, walks to the door. I’m gripped by fear that he isn’t really going to let her go, that his paranoia will kick in and he’ll be convinced she is going to shop him to the Lorders. It is only when she is gone that I can breathe again. I’m not sure where she stands: she might even be the one who betrayed me to the Lorders, a possibility Nico knows nothing of. How could he know what she might do now?
A slow minute counts down before Nico stands, opens my door. ‘Come. We should get out of here.’
Out through the back door, into his car. Down a side road and another, several quick turns. He watches but no one follows.
‘We’ll head to the house. We need to talk,’ he says.
‘Do you really know where Robert is?’
‘Not yet, but we will.’ He glances sideways. ‘You know her better than I. What do you think she will do?’
‘Honestly? I’m not sure.’
‘Neither am I,’ he admits, and I’m surprised: it is unusual for Nico to admit uncertainty. ‘But there will be a plan B, have no fear.’
He drives the rest of the way in silence.
When we arrive at the house in the woods, he draws me into his office, through a wall of curious eyes. Katran is there, and the others. Tori looks through me as if I am not of notice.
‘Sit,’ Nico says, and shuts the office door. We are alone. He pulls the other chair opposite mine, tilts my face up so we are eye to eye. ‘There is something we need to talk about. Rain, I understand you’ve been to see Ben.’
‘What?’ I half jump out of the chair, the shock of betrayal deep. After all he said about why he wouldn’t, Katran told him?
‘Now, Rain, this was a very foolish thing to do.’ He pushes me back in the chair, holding onto my hand as if to keep me there. His face is set and a tremor of fear runs through my body.
He raises his other hand before I can speak. ‘Wait. You shouldn’t have done it, it was dangerous. You risk us all if you get caught. You know that. But. I do understand.’
‘You do?’
‘Of course. I know what it is like to love, to lose that which you love.’ And his eyes are full of sympathy. ‘Tell me, Rain,’ he says. ‘What happened when you spoke to Ben?’ And his eyes, so familiar and so alien at once, hold mine, soothe, draw me out. ‘Tell me,’ he repeats.
I swallow. ‘It was awful. He didn’t know me, didn’t remember me at all! I don’t know what has happened to him, and—’
‘I do.’
I stop. ‘You do what?’
‘Know what happened to him.’
He pauses. ‘Be strong, Rain. That so-called school where Ben is staying isn’t a school. At least, not what you think of by that. It is a Lorder training centre. They have been experimenting with different procedures. Like Slating, but less drastic. Useful so subjects keep initiative and ability, yet remain under control.’ He takes both my hands in his again. ‘Believe me when I say, I’m sorry. But Ben is lost to you forever.’
‘No.’ I shake my head, tears threatening behind my eyes.
‘He is training to be the enemy: a Lorder agent.’
And I am unable to take it in. Aiden hinted as much, I realise, without spelling it out. But Ben, a Lorder? No. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.
I grow cold with understanding. After what has been done to him, he isn’t who he was. He isn’t making the decision.
Deep shuddering sobs start working their way up, and I’m struggling to keep some composure in front of Nico, to save it for later, but he pulls me against his shoulder. Tears spill out.
There is a knock on the door. ‘Wait,’ he says.
He leaves, shuts it behind him.
I drop my head in my hands. Somehow, I already knew. I was avoiding the truth. And here is another, one I will face: Katran told Nico I went to see Ben, he must have. How else could he know? But he said he wouldn’t!
The pain and tears turn into anger, then rage. Katran said I couldn’t make this decision, but he was wrong. It is mine alone. The Lorders must be stopped, at any cost. Any sacrifice.
Before my memories started to come back, I could never have joined Free UK. As just Kyla I could never face their methods, no matter their aims. But now I can. I can forget that Kyla hates violence; forget her fear, that she ever even existed. Just like I forgot Lucy. But I’ll never forget Ben.
Yes! Keep the pain. Use it to focus.
By the time Nico opens the door again, rage has obliterated all other feelings but the desire for revenge.
He sits down. ‘Where were we? Ah, yes. There is something else we need to discuss. Katran and I had a few words earlier today. About you.’
‘What?’ Has he been telling more of my secrets? I clench my fists.