Insequor (17 page)

The light bouncing back off the white projector screen was starting to make Daniel’s eyelids feel heavy. The fan of the laptop next to it was all that could be heard as the room patiently held its breath and looked to him after another presentation by Toby and his associates.

The final slide showed the robot stood at the edge of a large black hole. Daniel hadn’t been able to fully follow this one and he looked down at the pad in front of him. There were a few random words with question marks next to them. And a doodle of a bird.

“And so,” said Toby, “our friend has a choice at this point. Does he step forward or does he stop?”

“He never stops,” said Daniel, not looking up from his notes.

“What makes you think he will step forward?” said Jones, pre-empting one of the questions formulating on Daniel’s lips.

Toby frowned, and shook his head slightly. “Based on previous behaviour and analysis we are certain he will.”

“Then what?” Jones could barely conceal his frown.

“Well then he is at the bottom of a fifty-foot cylindrical steel well.”

“How thick are the walls?” asked Jones.

“About two feet.” Toby flicked on to another slide, “and able to withstand over ten tonnes of pressure. It’s a similar structure to the hull of a nuclear submarine, plus the hole itself is surrounded by approximately two hundred tonnes of earth and rubble.”

“And then it just what, stays there?” Jones rolled his eyes across at Daniel, trying to draw him into the conversation.

“Mr Jones, I’m sure we’ll be able to make fantastic use of it as an item of research. Who knows what we can learn from it?”

“Of course, we’d need some legal assurance from you, Daniel,” said Toby, cautiously eyeing Jones who was drumming his fingers on the desk.

“We’ll have to speak to the lawyers first,” said Jones. “What do you think?”

The doodle of the bird looked back at him. “Think?” Without realising he’d filled in the sky and some hills. “I think I have dinner plans. I’ll see you at the site. Wednesday?”

As they made to get up Toby coughed politely. “There is some other news.”

The rest of the coterie had left; only Daniel and Jones remained and he nodded his approval for Toby to continue. “We managed to get some pretty conclusive results from the spectro-analysis and we’ve finally managed to take a stab at what it’s actually made of. We believe it’s an element that was, until recently, only theoretical. Ununennium.”

Toby beamed. “We can’t be sure yet,” he said, “but the only thing that has ever come close are some particles that were discovered on an asteroid that fell over South Africa. It’s a great discovery and helps us nail this thing’s point of origin.”

“You’re saying it’s definitely from outer space?” said Jones.

Toby raised an eyebrow. “Gentlemen,” he said, “I don’t think for a moment any of us ever thought it was of this earth; we just finally have a lead.”

Toby pulled a folder out of his briefcase and passed it to Daniel. “The asteroid in question was found in 1876. Calculations suggest it’s not even from this solar system. As you can imagine we’re all tremendously excited.”

He idly flicked through the file. It was mostly charts and many photographs of a rock. “Yes, tremendously excited. So this thing travelled, how far?”

“Millions of light years,” said Toby.

“Millions of light years. For me? I don’t buy it.” He dropped the file onto the table and it scattered out.

“What do you mean?” said Toby.

“I mean it doesn’t answer anything. It doesn’t explain why it’s following me. It doesn’t explain why I move from country to country. Why I live like this.”

“Maybe we’ll never know,” said Toby, his voice quickly softer as he heard Daniel’s rise.

“Well there would be one way to find out what it wants. If I meet it face to face.”

Jones looked at him now, sideways. “You’re kidding?”

“Why not?” said Daniel, before Toby and Jones shared a look. “It’s better than this. One dumb plan after another.”

He turned and made his way to the door, Jones quickly followed, but as he reached it he stopped; the door half open held in one hand, passing footsteps from the corridor echoing in.

“It’ll get out of your stupid hole, Toby,” he said, “and then it’ll carry on following me just like it always does. Just like it always will. One day it’s going to catch me. I can’t keep moving for ever and we’ve never really given that any thought, have we? What if it wants someone else next? Maybe one of you?”

He pulled the door shut behind him and walked away without looking back. As he turned a corner he felt Jones’s hand softly touch him on the shoulder.

“Hey, are you alright?”

He stopped. “I’m so tired.”

“I know.” Jones gave him a firmer, pat on the back.

“I feel like a prisoner except there’s no walls. I’m stuck in this cycle and I want my life back. My old house, even my old job. I can’t stand this anymore.”

Jones stretched out and lifted up his chin so his eyes met Daniel’s. “We’re going to stop it. Remember, you can always get away, anywhere you want.”

“But that’s the worst part. Even when I go somewhere for a month or two, I know I won’t be able to stay. As soon as I get off the plane I’m already thinking of my next jump.”

Jones put an arm around him and they started to shuffle toward the exit. “Have you been to see a therapist, like I suggested?”

“No, I didn’t want to blow it with Veronica. I don’t want her to think I’m crazy.”

They turned the corridor and a guard mistakenly saluted. They kept their heads down before meeting the car outside. As they drove off, inside, Jones poured a whiskey for him.

“The strain of all this must be killing you,” said Jones, reaching out with the crystal glass. It sloshed about as the car sped up but it didn’t stop Daniel knocking it back in one. It seemed to work, he composed himself and took a deep breath.

“Really, I’m fine. Like you said, maybe this one will be different.”

In the middle of the restaurant in Marrakesh was a fountain, its crystal waters exploding upwards beneath a golden dome. A clarinet was droning away in the background and someone was splashing the keys on a piano.

The waiter, dressed in dark crimson and presumably already frisked, made his way through the throng of people that had gathered at the bar, past the two guards stood at the foot of the dais and over to their table; all the while carrying a champagne bottle at a seemingly impossible angle. He showed it to Veronica who smiled and offered her glass. She was talking to Jones, her head rested casually on her upright wrist and she was laughing. Her other hand was on Daniel’s lap and every so often she gave it a tweak and smiled at him.

“So how long were you a detective for?” she said.

Jones was still chuckling at something, Daniel had missed it, but he composed himself to talk about the serious subject of policing. “I made detective after ten years, so about twenty-five.”

“I guess everyone always asks you for stories at dinner parties, right?”

“Yes, they do.”

Veronica paused, her eyes met those of Jones and they shared a moment. “And I bet you never tell any,” she said, flatly.

Jones seemed slightly puzzled, but held her gaze. “No I don’t. You would make a very good detective.”

Nothing could be heard but the mutterings of the spectators and the camera’s snaps.

“I’d just as rather you didn’t,” said Daniel, with an outstretched hand and then, after a few moments, a smile.

They shared a chuckle and started to attack the dishes as they arrived, Jones always looking awkward and prodding his food first. Fine dining was still unnatural to him; he’d confessed to being brought up on TV dinners and hot dogs.

Although Daniel knew his friend didn’t like to eat out in restaurants tonight he was letting the press get their first pictures of Veronica. She hadn’t been keen at first but he had assured her it was easier this way. Give them a slice of what they want and then they’d quit bothering them.

However, he hadn’t expected on it being such a big deal he had a girlfriend. Once his media team had briefed the press they went nuts. The background dig had begun almost immediately, but his team had helped clean up Veronica’s online presence; embarrassing pictures she’d been tagged in, silly comments she made or potentially offensive jokes she’d ‘liked.’ All were sanitized or removed.

In the early days he’d suffered himself when he innocently posted a funny picture or a joke. The media had gone through everything he’d ever touched or any photos his friends had tagged him in. There was one that had been seen as sexist, another they’d tried to portray him as a gun nut and finally a picture of him at a party stood next to someone ‘chugging.’ The papers had portrayed him as an out of control, womanizing alcoholic. It seemed people needed very little excuse to get offended.

During those first long weeks after his revelation these had been the pictures and images the press had used to represent him. Swiftly though, he’d gotten control back. At first Toby and his advisors, who were always on tap. Before, finally, Daniel had wrested full control for himself. His Public Relations Officer, Director of Media and Communications and their teams handled everything now and today was a real circus.

“So, has he has told you about Toby’s latest idea?” The delicate piece of fish finally made its way into the Jones’s mouth after being eyeballed and sniffed.

Veronica nodded and swallowed; she licked her lips and then dabbed them with a napkin. They were shiny and coated with a deep red lipstick.

“Yes,” she said, reaching for her wine. “Forgive my ignorance, but hasn’t it already broken through buildings and tanks?”

“And an oil tanker in Bilbao,” said Jones.

“Toby tells me this is different,” said Daniel. “The sheer amount of steel and material involved, it would be…”

“Impossible?”

He smiled at Jones. “Unlikely,” he said.

Jones placed his cutlery down deliberately next to his plate.

“Has it occurred to you that
all
of this is unlikely? Nothing’s impossible anymore.”

Veronica shifted uncomfortably in her seat and coughed lightly.

“I have to keep trying though,” said Daniel.

Jones leaned across the table and whispered, “It’s taking its toll.”

Something started to rise up in his throat but he dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand; his eye had caught something. At the foot of the area they were seated at, just next to a miniature palm tree, a young boy was being bustled away by a security guard. The brick-wall of a man raised a hand in apology.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you, sir, not sure how he got in.”

“It’s okay,” said Daniel, and beckoned him over.

The young boy strode across with purpose. He was dressed smartly in jeans and a shirt; maybe nine or ten years old. A defiant look in his eyes and curly brown hair dangling around his ears. He sniffed and wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve.

“Hey there,” said Daniel, “what’s your name?”

“Joshua,” said the boy, his voice soft and high.

He turned to look at Veronica, her eyes glistened and a smirk crept across her face.

“Are you really the robot man?” said Joshua.

Looking back at the boy he could see so much wonder in his eyes, true awe. His little hands were nervously rubbing against each other but he wasn’t shaking. The cavernous, dark brown iris’s seemed to lack any comprehension other than Daniel was very, very important. Presumably there was an adult loitering around somewhere who was responsible for him. He got that a lot; people using their kids to try and get an introduction. Next thing he’d be suffering apologies from a man who ‘just happens to own an advertising agency’ or some financial guru – ‘
Have you thought about copper? The Chinese can’t get enough of it!’

But that wouldn’t happen today. “Yes. I am the robot man,” said Daniel.

“Does he ever speak to you?” said Joshua, awkwardly looking down at the floor.

“Yes, sometimes.”

“What does he say?”

“I don’t know, Joshua, nobody does. We don’t speak Robot. Do you?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried,” said Joshua, looking up from his shoes.

He held his gaze; the boy’s lost expression searching for answers where Daniel knew only too well there were none. He waved to a security guard behind the kid who came and, gently this time, led the boy back to the crowd. A rather distressed looking woman gathered him up and took him away.

Only after, when he turned back to his wine, did he realise Jones was staring at him.

“Did you mean that?” said Jones.

“What?”

“About the robot speaking to you. There’s nothing you’re not telling us?”

He looked at him sideways. “Are you kidding? You sound like Toby.”

“I just thought maybe there might have been something you didn’t want to articulate to us. Or felt uncomfortable about; a voice in your head maybe.”

He chortled and drained his glass. “I hear a voice in my head but it’s my own and it’s screaming.”

Veronica placed her hand on his. “Relax.”

They finished up before heading back to their rooms, pausing only briefly for the press to get their pictures.

When they were alone, he sat with Veronica on their balcony watching the orange, desert sun settle down for the evening. They poured drinks and lay down on loungers, their legs outstretched, heads tilted back but hands dangling down and joining just off the floor tiles.

The past few months had found Daniel never happier. They’d spent the vast majority of it back home before their trip to Sweden. With time on his side he had managed to go across to California and spend some time in the valleys, before heading south down to San Francisco. There they’d spent well over a month taking in not only the city’s sights but music and literary festivals too.

Veronica was a bookworm; always had been and it had given her so much joy to wander the old books shops and explore the festivals. Of an evening they’d go eat and then maybe find some jazz or blues to sit and drink too.

But, as always, it had to end. They’d decided on Sweden because Veronica had always wanted to go and spent three exquisite weeks there. But now they were here in Morocco waiting to try Toby’s latest scheme. He leaned across and rubbed her shoulder, a gentle sign that he wanted her attention. She opened her eyes; she’d been dozing off, before smiling and reaching out to kiss his fingers. That was the bit that got him every time. The smile when she saw him, the way her face sparked into joy just because he caught her eyes. God knows what his silly mug looked like; most likely a grinning schoolboy.

“What is it?” she said.

He paused, scratched his chin. The sun was fiery now, crackling over the land as it left and a shadow started to rise over Veronica; starting at her feet it crept up over her thighs, chest and face.

“I love you,” he said.

She leaned in and kissed him, the light finally fading. “I love you too.”