The video had an interesting caption, though, misspelled but very specific: '
Guy changes into someone else in mall. Defanitely genuine, not messed with.'
It was security footage from a camera set too high above an exit to pick up more than a couple of yards outside the doors, and the quality wasn't great. There was no audio. Dru could see three guys in their late teens or early twenties, one wearing a cap. It must have been the end of an argument, because the one with the cap walked through the doors, and the other two – one blonde, one dark – jumped on him and swung punches. The cap guy turned around and knocked the dark-haired kid flat; the blonde one lost his nerve and they both ran off. A woman walked up to the cap guy and said something to him, probably checking if he was injured if his hand gesture was anything to go by. He left and the clip ended.
So there was a squabble in a mall. There were probably dozens of those across the country every day. What was Dru supposed to be looking for? She replayed the footage three or four times to check the individual faces and bodies before she spotted it.
The cap guy's features appeared to change and revert,
snap snap snap
, in no more than a couple of seconds. She had to replay it to make sure.
Ah. That's the shape-shifter element, then.
It looked like one of those adverts that cycled through faces of different races and ages to make the point that a product was suitable for everyone; you could see features change, but it was too fast to focus consciously on the detail. Once Dru spotted it in the video, it was noticeable, but not astonishing. It might even have been a glitch. It certainly wasn't state of the art digital effects. She checked the comments, looking for employee names out of habit, and was amazed at how many people still couldn't spell
hoax
.
She found herself nodding in agreement with the comments that it was a poor effort compared to some of the spoofs out there. They were right. It really did need a wolf or an orc's head to stand a chance in the micro-attention environment of video uploads.
And if anyone at KWA uploaded site security footage like this, they'd be looking for another job, pronto. I hope this mall fires the asshole.
So was this what Zoe did all day, surfing for every line of paranormal crap on the Internet?
She's just like me, then. Poor bitch.
Dru wondered why someone would post such shoddy special effects when even Clare, who wasn't particular arty, could edit almost professional-quality footage on her cell phone. The guy could have been an average idiot, of course.
Or he could have posted exactly what had been recorded, and that was why it wasn't anything exotic. It was real.
No, that was insane. But Dru had to stick to her method, however implausible the evidence, and rule it in. She checked the web page for details. The user hadn't even posted a profile she could follow. She could have tried contacting him via the comments, but that was a step too far.
The only clue she had was the camera ident and a fuzzy, indistinct date and time code. Why wasn't the image sharper? Ah, the guy must have videoed an actual screen with his phone rather than try to make a copy. The ident said PORTON MACKAY CAM 65A and the date showed it had been recorded about a week ago. Dru copied the name Porton Mackay into her notebook and added another sticky note to the hard copy chart.
She needed to know what Porton Mackay was. The name of the mall? A store? A town? This was going to take some time. She ran another search for Porton, Mackay, and Mall, and got fewer hits than she expected.
There was one with all three terms that threw up a number of related pages: Mackay Mall, Porton, Askew County, Maine. She found it on a map and checked to see if any of the place names around Porton rang a bell, but it didn't mean a thing. Nothing got ruled out, though. That was the point of this exercise. If there were obvious connections, she'd have found them by now.
It was only when she was searching with the location added to the names on her list that something clicked. She'd included the search terms LEO BRAYNE and BRAYNE. That threw up something she hadn't been expecting: Brayne and Askew County.
But it wasn't Leo Brayne. It was a Michael Brayne from Westerham Falls.
She checked the map again. Westerham Falls was maybe an hour from Porton. The search had picked up an old news release on a National Guard site about troops returning from Iraq, complete with a publicity picture of a group of guys, one of whom was identified as Michael Brayne. She searched again using MICHAEL MIKE LEO BRAYNE to see what fell out.
Dru really hadn't been expecting a result from that, either. But she got a quick match and a photo caption. The picture, taken some years ago, showed Senator Brayne with his son and daughter at a charity event. The senator had endowed some specialist treatment centre for veterans. It wasn't the scale of his generosity that got her attention, though. It was the name of his son: Michael.
She copied the two images to her desktop and compared them. They'd been taken years apart, but the son and the soldier looked like the same guy.
Oh boy.
She reminded herself that humans looked for patterns and imposed meaning on completely random things. Astronomy had its roots in that. It took a hell of an imagination to see constellations, and that was exactly what she was doing with these names and places.
But she couldn't ignore the fact that Leo Brayne had a connection to Project Ringer, however far removed, and his son appeared to live within an hour of a mall where a security camera might have picked up someone apparently able to alter his appearance on the spot. Was Mike Brayne in any phone directory? No, he was one of the elite, so he'd be unlisted. But she'd look anyway.
It took her just five minutes to find it an entry for M.S. and O. Brayne, 2763 Forest Road. There were no other Braynes with a Westerham Falls address.
Dru hadn't really thought he'd have a listed phone number, but then she didn't know anything about him beyond who his father was. He seemed both remarkably invisible and in plain sight at the same time. It took her some time to find the property on the aerial sat map, but when she did, she was struck by how much of a backwater it was.
Like Dunlop Ranch.
No, stop it. That's a connection that isn't even there.
She found herself piecing together all kinds of scenarios, most of them wild theory that made as much sense as a game of consequences. But she couldn't ignore the timeline. She thought she saw a flow there, the vapour trails of causality.
Okay, go with it. To rule it out. It can't be the way it looks.
Under normal circumstances, she'd have hired a local investigator, but asking someone to check out a senator and his family was far too risky. She couldn't even tell Weaver. He had to be kept in a holy state of plausible deniability, and she didn't want to give him any more rope to hang her with.
Her only option was to check for herself. How much time did she have? If Zoe had sent that video to Kinnery and he had any connection to that boy, he'd be making arrangements to hide him.
It was coming up to the holidays. She'd booked time off. Clare had expectations, but Dru couldn't delay now.
If I went to Maine, though, what would I see? The Braynes might be away for the holiday. These people go to ski resorts and private islands. And the mule might already be in some safe house.
The Braynes couldn't live in a small town without somebody knowing something about them, though. It didn't even have to be anything spectacular. A name would do. The Brayne connection was a piece of the puzzle that Dru couldn't ignore, even if it didn't fit her template of a gene mule and the impossibility of shape-shifting. What she needed most was some breakthrough on Ian Dunlop's identity. It was triangulation. Another data point could answer all her questions, and Weaver's.
And I absolutely have to know if this is real or not. For my own sanity.
She had a feeling that she'd find Ian Dunlop had an English accent, and that he was a lot younger than he sounded. Whether he was a living, breathing example of dynamic mimicry was a question she was almost scared to answer.
She hoped he wasn't. There were some complications the world really didn't need.
In World War II, the Germans knew the British could easily transmit bogus messages to Luftwaffe bombers, so pilots were suspicious of any orders they received. In fact, the British never bothered to do it. But the Germans thought that they did because they could, and acted accordingly. The power of suggestion and mistrust is enormous. That's another weapon in Ian's armoury.
Mike Brayne, on the lessons of history.
VANCOUVER
NOVEMBER.
"Well, Zoe," Kinnery said, rubbing his eyes one-handed. "What can I do for you today?"
He found it easier to take
The Slide
's calls and act the patronizing, amused, but honest scientist than to ignore Zoe Murray. After eight or nine conversations, he'd almost built a professional understanding with her. Did she have a bullying, knuckle-dragging news editor standing over her, making her do this? He preferred to think that she did. It took the adversarial sting out of the calls, and if he thought of her sympathetically then he was less likely to sound evasive.
"The usual, Dr Kinnery," Zoe said. "I'm going to send you a link to a video clip and I'd just like a comment."
"I liked the orc. That was really convincing. Not my handiwork, alas, but very clever CGI. I take it you've called KW-Halbauer too."
"I always do, but they never respond. Sending now."
It took Kinnery a few moments to access the web page, and the semi-literate caption told him all he needed to know. It was mall security footage.
"What am I looking for this time?" he asked.
"Check out the young man in the cap."
Kinnery watched a scuffle between three youths at a mall. The boy in the cap got punched but hit back a lot harder. Kinnery was waiting for the boy to turn into something interesting, but he didn't. His attackers ran off.
The guy looked about Ian's age, maybe a little older. Kinnery felt a slight prickle down his spine. But there were millions of young men in that age group. This wasn't the first clip Zoe had shown him with a young guy in it, either.
"I didn't see it," Kinnery said, genuinely puzzled. "Hang on. Let me play it again."
"It's there, I promise. Keep watching the kid in the cap."
This time Kinnery noticed the words PORTON MACKAY on the video, probably the name of the mall. It was hard to see the boy's face under the peak of his cap, but this time Kinnery caught a change.
Immediately after the guy took a punch, his head jerked around and, for a second or two, his cheekbones flared wider and his jaw got bigger. Maybe he'd turned paler, too, but it was hard to be sure. Then he seemed to deflate and darken, and suddenly he was back to how he'd looked a few seconds earlier. Kinnery could have blinked and missed it.
"That was pretty dull," he said. Yes, it was odd, but there might have been an explanation beyond ham-fisted special effects. "Are you sure that wasn't just the light and the effect of being punched? Have you ever seen a boxer take a hard blow to the face?"
"I did wonder. But would it look like that at normal playback speed?"
"It's possible. If it's a spoof, it's pretty unimaginative."
"Well," Zoe said, "it's the fact that it's so marginal that intrigued me. Whoever posted that really believed it."
Kinnery had gotten airy dismissal down to a fine art. "People sincerely believe the most ludicrous things. If I really could build shape-shifters, though, I'd make them a lot more versatile than that. Anything else?"
"Apart from the fact that it probably came from a mall in Maine about a week ago, no."
It took a moment for Kinnery's brain to catch up. He suddenly felt out of control, struggling for air. It could have been a terrible coincidence and the boy in the video probably wasn't Ian at all, but he simply didn't know. He had no idea what Ian looked like now. He had to shrug this off like all the other videos and not let his panic leak into his voice.
"Sorry that I can't be more help," he said.
"You're always remarkably patient, considering that you think this is nonsense, Dr Kinnery."
"It's actually quicker to answer your questions than to try to dodge you."
Am I babbling? Stop it.
"I imagine you're under pressure to deliver stories."
"Well, thank you," Zoe said. "Good afternoon."
After she rang off, Kinnery sat with his hand to his mouth for a few moments before he managed to marshal his thoughts. He needed to know if the boy in the video was Ian. He'd have to call Leo, and the rules of engagement with the senator were strict for both their sakes. Calls were for emergencies only. But that video definitely qualified as one.
It took Kinnery three calls to catch Leo. "I need to forward you a link to a video," he said, lapsing into their private code. "It came from a person with a persistent interest. I can't verify the subject matter."
"Understood," Leo said. "I'll get back to you."
Kinnery put the link in an encrypted attachment, unsure if that was much protection these days even for correspondence with a senior politician, but it made no sense to skip it. If Leo confirmed that was Ian, then there were more calls to be made. Kinnery would have to contact Shaun and find out if Zoe had approached him.
It was no idle fear. Against the odds, Dru Lloyd had eventually identified Maggie and located the ranch. If she was made aware of that video, then she'd find the mall too. She wouldn't know about the Braynes, though.
Leo rang back just over an hour later, again without greeting or preamble.
"I'm confirming," he said. "You have to leave it to me now. Please don't make any further contact for the time being."
So it
was
Ian. Kinnery's chest felt like a collapsing building. "I'll call the company and tell them I'm being pestered by the media," he said. "Just to cover the bases."
"Okay. Goodbye."
Leo ended the call as abruptly as he'd started it. Kinnery had no idea what timetable he might be working on or how far this would go, and if he didn't call Shaun now to say that
The Slide
had been in touch, it would look suspicious.
No, he'd call Dru Lloyd instead. That would be what a man would do if he felt this was a minor annoyance for a minion to deal with. If he took it up with Shaun when he hadn't pursued the other approaches with him, it would simply set alarm bells ringing. If he got Dru to take a video call, though, he could record some images to send them to Mike Brayne for identification purposes in case she showed up.
Jesus, am I really scared of that woman? She's a hundred pounds soaking wet. She's a glorified clerk. I'm treating her like she's a goddamn SEAL.
Kinnery sent her an e-mail to set up a call. If Shaun did things by video, then so would she. She'd probably never work out what he was doing it for. If she made excuses to avoid using a webcam, though, he'd have to assume she was thinking along the same lines as he was, and that wouldn't bode well.
But she seemed happy to take the call. Kinnery practiced recording images a few times and peeled the Blu Tack off the webcam. When she picked up and he saw her for the first time in months, he almost didn't recognise her. She'd changed her hair. Colour and cut shouldn't have made such a difference to someone's face, but it did.
"Hi, Mrs Lloyd." He started the recording. "Are you still getting calls from Zoe Murray?"
Dru paused. "Mr Weaver is, but we're not commenting."
"Well, she just called me again. I'm being as polite as I can, but she doesn't know I'm going be working with you. So I'd appreciate some guidance for the future."
"I'll work out something with our public affairs people."
"Thank you."
"There's such a thing as no comment, you know, Dr Kinnery."
"That just triggers their digging reflex." Kinnery clicked discreetly on the STOP icon and checked he had at least a freeze frame sitting there in the app window.
Got it. Good.
"I was given a tip that the best way to deal with media was to be voluble until they got bored and hung up first."
"Interesting technique, but very hard not to let something slip."
"If you have nothing to let slip, it's perfectly safe." Kinnery surprised himself by coming back with exactly the smart response he needed. "And I haven't."
He looked for some reaction in Dru's face, but he didn't know her well enough yet to read her. All he could do was assume the worst and prepare for it.
Dru shrugged. "They'll always make something out of it, whatever you say. I think it's probably time to become unavailable for comment, though."
After he ended the call, Kinnery tried to divine some meaning from the conversation and gauge what she was up to, but it was impossible. He picked a few stills and the best short clip from the recording and mailed it to Leo. Now he was out of the game.
He tried to imagine what Shaun would do in the unlikely event that they traced Ian to Mike's house, but he simply didn't know. Shaun had never been squeamish about bending rules. The stakes were much higher now.
Kinnery went back to the video from the mall and played it again, looking for reasons not to worry. Now that the initial panic had given way to a quieter anxiety, he focused on what he was actually watching.
This was Ian, his creation and his crime, out in the world on his own for the first time. The Braynes hadn't shared any information about his progress or even his health. It was odd to see him and not be able to recognise anything about him except his ability to morph.
Kinnery replayed the clip five or six times, mesmerized. Was that the limit of Ian's morphing, or was he reining it in? Had he lost control under stress? He seemed to be able to revert to a previous form. It was fascinating. Kinnery knew that it was better if he never found out how far the morphing went, but part of him was consumed by the need. Only one thing mattered, though. Ian looked fit and confident, a strong young man able to take care of himself at last.
Kinnery knew he wasn't entitled to be proud, but despite that, he was.
CHALTON FARM, WESTERHAM FALLS
NEXT MORNING, NOVEMBER.
Rob wasn't in the guest cottage, and he wasn't answering his phone. His car was still in the garage. If he hadn't gone for a run on his own without leaving a note on the fridge, then Mike had no idea where he was.
Mike checked the security monitors. After a few minutes, the recording light came on and Rob appeared on one of the screens, scarf pulled up over his mouth. He must have been freezing. He was testing the camera by pacing back and forth in front of it.
Livvie walked up behind Mike to watch. "He's a gem."
"He never trusts any kit he hasn't checked himself. Don't worry. Nobody's going to show up with mortars."
"I'm not worried, I'm disappointed." Livvie held out her phone to show him the images of Dru Lloyd that Dad had forwarded. "I was expecting a wisecracking Lauren Bacall type with a smoky voice, trench coat, and stilettos. She's kind of... well,
fluffy
."
"She's still purely theoretical. We don't know if she'll ever find us."
Livvie did a few mock right hooks to Mike's chest. "I've got reach and ten pounds on her. I could take her any time."
"Sure, honey. And you get to eat what you kill." Mike tried to keep it light. All this could prove to be an overreaction. "I'm going to catch Rob. Is Ian okay?"
"Still beating himself up over it."
"I'll talk to him."
"I'm doing that." She took Mike's beanie out of his pocket and pulled it down on his head. "Keep your ears warm. I don't care if you look goofy."
Mike estimated Rob's next location in the chain of cameras and set out for the woods on the western boundary. Since Dad had called about the mall video, Mike had built up a head of steam and was now at a steady simmering anger.
You want to come after me and my family? Go ahead. See what happens.
He kicked through the frosted grass, seething. His money and influence couldn't do a damn thing to head this off at the pass. Any action he took would reveal that he knew what was coming, and why. He had to wait for KWA to break cover. Being powerless was an authentic regular-guy experience, the first that he hadn't volunteered for and that he couldn't bypass if it got too tedious.
This was his home, for fuck's sake. He refused to be held under permanent siege by a bunch of glorified pharmacists. If KWA so much as exhaled in the direction of his family, he'd declare war. This was about
tribe
. It was about Dad and Livvie and Rob and Ian, and Ian was the victim in all this. His unique skills, marvellous as they were, had come from a monstrous and illegal act.
Mike walked through the trees, looking for the cameras. How could Dru make a connection between the mall and this house? She'd need a reason to link the Brayne name to the video. That was less likely, but it wasn't impossible if she'd found Maggie by going back forty years to some university yearbook. If she went back to day one of Project Ringer, she might do the same with Dad, and eventually find a link. The security cam ident provided enough information for anyone with time, patience, and investigative skills to find all the Portons in the country and then eventually narrow it down. Finding Mackay Plaza wouldn't be a stretch for her.