‘Perhaps he didn’t tell you?’
‘Perhaps.’
Ellie speculated, ‘Or he might have just thought the break would suit her?’
‘No,’ considered Beck harshly. ‘He was planning – he’d known the net was closing, he’d known for weeks.’
‘We don’t know that,’ she reasoned; though Beck let the thought remain. And that wasn’t all that lingered. Around him in the car loomed the atmosphere of a near-decade of secrets, all of them kept from Beck, and many of them kept by the lovely young woman he still thought of as a daughter and would die protecting.
He asked her, ‘What do you remember from that weekend?’
‘I remember Chris calling me at work on my mobile. He had a tone of voice I hadn’t heard from him before, but have gotten used to since. He said, “Leave now, throw this phone away.” And two words, the name of a cafe.’
‘“Mount Olympus.”’
‘How did you...?’
‘It’s where we met yesterday.’
‘That day must have meant a lot to him then,’ she reflected. ‘It did to all of us, the day our lives... changed. I nearly said “ended”.’
‘I spotted.’
‘Danny and I were sent away to a motel, but Chris was so calm, and he did an amazing thing.’ She went on to explain,
‘For the purposes of our jobs in the Faculty, the Professor had had Mr Green write up fake CVs and personal details and references for us, just so he could put us through the University’s HR system. Once working for him as temps, he applied for National Insurance Numbers for us – and got them! I don’t think even he expected that to work.
‘He told them we had fallen out of the education system, and had lost our old numbers in the chaotic homes we had escaped from. I admit, I felt a bit guilty about the lying after I found out. But Mr Green had given them the faked details off the Faculty’s system, and it worked, and Danny and I became official.
‘And do you know what, Doctor Beck? Even when they questioned him, Mr Green didn’t give this up! And Chris used those CVs and references, sent them to our first companies and got us our first interviews!’
At this Ellie started to well up. Were she a lesser creature, Beck would have suggested she pull over to cry herself out. But even with tears streaming, she was still far and away the finest driver of the three in the car. Ellie was manoeuvring the vehicle superbly. Beck had to ask though,
‘But where are we going now?’
‘In the general direction. Chris will find us.’
‘In the “general direction” of what?’
‘Didn’t you hear us talking?’
He clearly hadn’t.
‘Well, don’t worry, there was a lot going on at the lay-by.’
And still she was thinking clearly,
‘You realise, Doctor Beck, that this means you’ve explained to yourself why Schmidt appeared to abandon you.’
‘Yes. Because he had to focus on Anna.’
‘So, can you bring yourself to hate him any less?’
But Beck was getting used to leaving those kinds of questions unanswered.
Chapter 63 – Memories
Meanwhile, in all of his and Ellie’s discussions, Beck had clean forgotten Victor in the back seat, trying his best not to intrude, and watching the green of trees and hedgerows flying past the car’s back windows. Beck remembered him now,
‘So, Victor – your question.’
‘Yes, thank you, Doctor Beck.’
‘Ellie, you’re all right about me talking of your manufacture?’
‘Of course. I still marvel at it myself.’
‘And you’re prepared for this, Victor? Because it might get weird.’
‘I’m right with you, Doctor.’
‘Then, good. Because, Victor, the way to think about our friend here is indeed componently. Although she is her physical form, as we all are, her essence is contained within her processor and memory chips.’
‘Like her brain?’
‘Yes; only in her case, for reasons of space and cooling, it is contained within a sealed canister in her chest. And the rest of her, if needs be, can be repaired or replaced.’
‘Like her arm?’
‘Yes, her fraying arm would be on my list. And if I still had my lab it wouldn’t be too difficult. But for the time being, thankfully, it’s not so bad.’
She interrupted, ‘If only we could say the same for Chris and Danny’s injuries, after their alarms.’
‘Yes,’ pondered Beck. ‘Chris wouldn’t let me see his damage. And as for Danny, we really need to get to him as soon as possible.’
‘If only we knew where he was,’ said Ellie, which was half-lament and half-explanation for their inaction on that front thus far.
‘But to close the subject,’ Beck wrapped up, ‘theoretically, Ellie and the others could be replaced and repaired almost indefinitely. And would be fine, as long as they looked after their chips. So the question of how long Ellie will last is hard to answer. The physical woman you see in front of you might change a dozen times in a lifetime. But she will always be the same woman.’
‘And how long will the chips last?’ asked Victor.
To which Beck answered, ‘These days, solid state memory is sold as lasting a lifetime. Though if Ellie were deactivated, for instance when being moved into another frame or when undergoing significant repair, then her data could be copied, like with any electrical device – transferred onto a new board, and a perfect copy stored. As long as both the working version and a latest copy were kept safe for emergencies, then there’s no reason that a version of her couldn’t last forever.’
Victor’s mouth was hanging open, and Beck felt he must continue. Though he also felt it best to keep to himself that the scenario he had just described also allowed for the possibility of duplicates – something he and Schmidt had never morally allowed themselves to indulge in. So he waxed lyrical instead,
‘Although in a philosophical sense, then how long does anything last? How long do we all last? Perhaps then we are all reliant on our manufacture?’
‘Are you all right with that, Victor?’ asked Ellie.
‘Yes. I mean, it doesn’t change your eyes or your smile.’
‘Good,’ said Beck. ‘It doesn’t help to think too biologically of our loved ones.’
And with that the car drove on in silence.
Chapter 64 – Where do we go Now?
Eventually the car driven by Ellie pitched up on rough ground beside a series of extraordinary earth sculptures. They were incongruous amid the rolling green hills, as if a passing giant had scooped them out of the ground and dropped them down beside the now-deserted A-road.
‘What are these?’ asked Victor for both men.
‘Kilns,’ answered Ellie, without wonder, as if she saw such things every day. That must have been a sadness for such minds, thought Beck – even the extraordinary ceasing to be so after very long. Though by then they would have found newer and amazing diversions. He only asked,
‘And why here?’
She answered, ‘Chris drove me here once – one of his pet projects.’
‘To fire crockery?’ asked Victor.
‘No, to study how people used to live – there are Iron Age roundhouses too, though they’re just off the road.’
‘So they used to have to walk to the bus stop?’ quipped Beck, as he got out to begin a stroll of his own around the car.
Victor though aloud as he and Ellie also got out, ‘So this is just somewhere that you both knew? Not where we’ll meet this Professor and your sister?’
Standing beside the car, Ellie gasped,
‘Oh, you didn’t think we’d already figured out where they were?’
‘Well, yes.’
‘I’m afraid I did too,’ added Beck.
‘Oh, sorry,’ she apologised. ‘But, what. You don’t think we have all the answers, do you?’
‘Well, you’ve shown a pretty good impression of it so
far.’ And Beck did smile as he said this, for he was proud, even in his mistakenness.
Soon enough Christopher arrived, in another slightly old but well-kept hatchback, the kind that only the most dependable and respectable citizens would drive.
‘Don’t tell me you had time to find another scrapyard?’ asked Beck only half-joking.
‘No,’ answered Chris. ‘I’m afraid the circumstances reduced me to base theft.’
‘Someone’s lost their no-claims bonus,’ offered Victor, ever aware of the effect that such unexpected costs would have on his own housekeeping.
Chris countered though,’ I left them five-hundred pounds, which I venture is as much as they might have hoped to get for the vehicle.’
‘What if they didn’t want to sell?’
‘Both offside tyres need replacing, which would have been fifty pounds by themselves. Add to that the rattle in the exhaust, the brakes and oil-filter surely coming up for replacement...’
‘Okay, okay.’ Victor said this to shut him up. And at last the conversation could get on to the important stuff.
Beck began,
‘Then it seems to me that we have to choose what to do.’
‘But aren’t we going for Schmidt and Anna?’ asked Ellie.
‘Yes, but how are we going to go about that? I mean, do we risk staying out in the open; or rather hunker down and do our research before we chance a journey out to wherever we think they are?’
Ellie pondered, ‘So, you think we need a nerve centre, like Chris’s flat?’
All thought on this. Victor was the first to break the silence,
‘Going back to London feels like...’
‘...death,’ concluded Chris.
‘I was going to say “a risk”,’ finished Victor. But all knew what Christopher meant. Beck summarised,
‘Then we stay in public, stay on the move.’
‘Quite right,’ said Chris, joking, ‘Could you imagine us all in my flat with newspapers over the windows?’
‘And our places are blown,’ added Victor.
‘He’s right,’ confirmed Ellie. ‘Mine was visited by the police, and I’m sure Victor’s will have been by now.’
Beck added, ‘And you’ve heard that my home is no use?’
‘Nothing of yours is any use.’
All were stunned by the line, leaving Christopher quickly explaining, though not apologising,
‘By which I mean, that everything you know and own is known by Eris after your interview yesterday, if not before then. Of course, you yourself are of tremendous use.’
‘Well, I’ll try and live up to that ringing endorsement.’
Despite the unintended slight, Beck again led the way,
‘So we search for Anna and the Professor. Now, every card on the table, none of us have the first clue of where they are?’
All were silent.
‘And Chris, how long have you been looking?’
‘Eight years.’
‘Then, realistically, how long might this search take?’
‘With Ellie and I together, weeks,’ ventured Chris.
‘And how many cars a day will you be burning? How many times a night do we skip town?’
‘You’re right,’ said Ellie. ‘I really don’t think we have that time.’
‘So,’ summarised Beck, pulling his collar up to guard against the building winds, ‘we need to make a new and quick decision. We need to look for our shelter; and I don’t fancy hanging around out here.’
Chapter 65 – The Caravan
The area around the old kilns was not without its natural beauty; to which people were clearly drawn, as to the East was the white metal shimmering of a hundred static caravan roofs. Chris summed up the scene with,
‘I wonder, Doctor. Would you say this is the holiday season?’
Beck felt the way the sunshine had given way to chill breeze,
‘Not especially, would you?’
‘Then I think I’ve found us several dozen places to hide.’
When they reached them, most of the caravans were unoccupied, though not all. There were late afternoon lights on; and the odd motorcar here and there peppered the paths between the vans. The length that the grass had been allowed to grow to didn’t suggest however that many more visitors were expected.
‘This looks a good one,’ thought Ellie, as they arrived at a van at the far end of the field.
‘It’s big enough,’ agreed Victor, ‘and gives us a view of the road.’
Chris pulled the car in beside it and out of sight, before going to get out. ‘I’ll fetch the other car. You stay here.’
‘Of course. Where would we go?’ asked Beck, getting out himself to look around. The cool wind whipped across the flat lands and around his shoulders. He wanted to make contact with the site’s owners if he could, to make a cash-in-hand arrangement for a couple of nights, in case the tenants of another van reported squatters. But his chance came sooner than expected, when a pickup truck rattled up to them. The owner called from the cab,
‘You new here?’
‘Yes, thank you. Just arrived.’
‘John know about you?’
‘Sorry?’
‘You’ve spoken to John?’
‘Yes, yes,’ lied Beck, as convincingly as possible.
‘He hasn’t given you a key then.’
Beck guessed this to be as a statement rather than a question, prompted by them being stood outside and not in the warm of the van. He answered,
‘Our friend has it. He’s in the other car.’
‘Then have one of these.’ The man reached a jailer’s keyhoop out of the pickup window.
‘Which one?’ asked Beck as he rifled through them to slide one off.
‘Any, they’re all the same. Don’t go telling the holidaymakers,’ he said, and laughed. ‘What brings you here out of season?’
Beck had no fit response.
‘The kilns,’ answered Ellie, getting out of the car. ‘They might need underpinning.’
‘Surveyors, eh?’ asked the man. But he needed no answer to his question. Raising his hand in goodbye, he reversed his truck back the way he had come.
Once he was out of sight and hearing, Beck said,
‘Well, come on then. Let’s get warm.’
Later on, with Chris still yet to join them, the logistics of their situation bit. Ellie needed little for herself, but she surveyed for the benefit of the humans,
‘We’ve no food, so even burning John’s propane we’ve nothing to cook for you.’
‘At least these vans have mains power though,’ said Victor, observing Ellie who was already plugged in on a long cable, and who had several other batteries charging.
‘Is it too late to go shopping?’ supposed Beck.
‘I can live without my tea,’ conceded Victor.
His stomach was saved though by Chris arriving not only with the second car, but also a bag of forecourt-food,
‘I hope you can make do with Cornish pasties?’
Glad as he was of the food, Beck groaned,
‘You took a risk, Chris. They have cameras at garages.’
‘But none at that garage. And it was worth it to see that you and my dear Victor weren’t sent to bed without your supper.’
‘Well, I hope you know what you’re doing,’ chided Beck.
‘As do I,’ answered Chris. ‘And anyway, we’ll be gone by the morning.’
‘Is everything all right, Chris?’ asked Ellie, who like Beck could tell he was a little testy.
Chris answered, ‘The fact is, I’m really not sure.’ From the food bag he also took out a popular national newspaper, and tossed it onto the caravan’s table around which they were gathered. He declared,
‘Have you ever had the feeling of someone walking over your grave?’
Chapter 66 – Montand Barclay and the Trials of the Teacher
All four of them looked to the newspaper, printed the previous night and so almost a day out
of date, but which declared as its headline:
TANKS, BUT NO TANKS
And then below that, in smaller writing, in the form of several tag-lines:
‘US wanting to sell Britain arms to bail out failing economy.’
‘Ambassador in town for high-level talks.’
‘“It’s like D-Day all over again,” warns firebrand MP.’
Beck was the first to speak,
‘I know you work on abstract connections, Chris. But this one’s beyond me.’
Though Ellie said, ‘I think I recognise him.’ She was looking at the photo beneath the headline.
As did Victor, ‘Montand Barclay, I’ve seen him on the news.’
Chris mused, ‘He has a French first name, something of his mother being a nurse who married a GI in the War and went back to the United States with him.’ Though the artif was also thinking more laterally, and asked rhetorically,
‘You asked me earlier, Doctor, whether the Americans had ever been in touch with me since the fall of Springfields?’
‘Yes, so?’
‘I wonder how much you knew of their visits, you being away from Springfields more than the rest of us?’
Beck realised, ‘Not very much.’
‘Well, my contact was this man, Barclay. He came out to Springfields to visit me twice. The first time I was still quite young and knew only his name; although by his second visit my own enquires had revealed his identity – not that I let on.’
‘He’s been around a while then,’ offered Victor.
‘Indeed,’ continued Chris. ‘He’s held many titles over his career, but in essence he’s been the “go-to guy” for successive Presidents on all manner of security and civic issues.’
‘And Schmidt knew him?’ asked Beck.
‘As a famous industrialist might quite reasonably know a US defence procurer; in fact, I have suspected in the years since that a fair chunk of our siliconware came out of his agency’s back door. These last two days have had me remember all manner of things – and now I see this newspaper.’ Chris looked up to his companions, ‘Over these recent journeys I’ve heard many of your stories. Now I would like to relay one to you.’
And none disagreed to the telling.
‘So yes, this Barclay was my contact. His plans for me were never detailed. It was assumed by us at Springfields that I’d be a kind of foreign traveller, a stayer at hotels and listener at walls. A message passed here, a letter dropped there, a diplomatic pouch collected for the journey home. And all the time evading every biometric scan yet invented. Though he only ever marvelled at our general abilities, “The way you carry yourselves...”’ (Chris’s take on the accent was note-perfect.)