Provenance I - Flee The Bonds (25 page)

* * * *
 

Steve stopped outside apartment five and glanced at his MPS, 11:57. He was three minutes early. He pressed the silver call button and waited.

After a further two minutes, he inserted a clone-key and opened the door. The lights were on. He stuffed the cap into his jacket, unclipped the Cogent, and closed the door behind him.

With his back to the hall cupboard, he pushed open the hallway door and swung into a verdant lounge. Mint walls and botanical prints enclosed two sage settees sitting on a fawn carpet. The settees’ colour had been coordinated in the closed window blinds.

Steve’s readiness darted right, adrenalin pumped. Limp vegetables and packaging littered the wooden worktop of the cream galley kitchen.

Three doorways perforated the right wall, but only the farthest held a closed door. He edged across the carpet, kicked out, and crouched. A ginger blur accompanied the guttural shriek. Steve ignored the cat and jerked the tip of the Cogent into each corner. Reflected light encircled the table lamps on either side of the bed; Jannae lay in the shadow at the foot of it.

A large pine wardrobe covered half the left-hand wall. One door open, one inner drawer pulled out. Steve pressed his back against the wall and slid towards the wardrobe. Clear.

After checking the rest of the apartment, he returned to Jannae. Hair straggled her purple-tinged face and a dark stain spread out from the side of her swollen neck. According to her MPS, Captain Jannae Kalckburg had been dead for sixteen hours and nineteen minutes.
Why hasn’t anyone come to investigate?

Steve glanced around the bedroom. Last night someone had interrupted dinner preparations. They’d come for the white cube. She’d retrieved it from the wardrobe drawer, handed it over and received a neck-splintering blow in return.

He left the bedroom and followed the meowing into the kitchen. Someone else had missed dinner.

Leaving the cat with a plate of cooked chicken and a bowl of milk, he returned to the lounge. His head slew left. A volley of knocks emanated from the hallway, ‘CONSEC! Open the door!’

He dived for the hallway. They’ve been waiting to see who turned up.

Two booms preceded the splintering wood. Heavy footfalls thudded by. ‘In here!’

With his cap pulled down, Steve exited the hall cupboard, slipped into the empty corridor and headed for the emergency stairs.

From the service doorway, he peeked outside. Along the alley, beyond the closed gate, cars screeched to a halt in front of Highcliffe Mansions. In two minutes they’d seal the building, in five, the zone.

He rotated his MPS dial and selected a new identity.

14:52 THU 02:11:2119

Intra Zone, Wiltshire, England, Sector 2

The towpath climbed over the bridge abutment, its treacherous gravel covered in greasy brown leaves. Penny’s padded boots slipped on the incline, ‘Digby, wait!’ She’d finished her shift at 14:00 and like every other day, she’d walk past Steve’s mooring. Stress tensioned her neck, she feared he wouldn’t be there. . . feared he would.

Digby pulled her over the crest. The shoulders of her lime puffer jacket dropped. Barren trees hid nothing; there were no boats, no splashes of colour against the cheerless grey water. She sniffed and followed the unrelenting pull of the lead.
Maybe tomorrow
.

Ahead, from the shelter of the bridge’s low arch stepped a tall woman, long blonde hair flowing across the shoulders of a camel coat. Penny pulled Digby close, the approaching coat exuded affluence and his paws were, as usual, muddy.

The woman strode at a jaunty pace, confident, her gloved hands swinging by her sides. She was at least a head taller, very attractive, and obviously Continuity. As she drew closer, she smiled. ‘Hi, Penny, Steve asked me to call.’

Penny almost let go of the lead, ‘Did he?’

‘Yes, he’s been worried about you.’

Beneath her jacket, palpitations shook Penny’s body, ‘When’s he coming back?’

‘Soon, he’s busy at the moment, but he wanted me to check in on you.’

Penny fought the emotion threatening to burst out, ‘I’m sorry, who are you?’

‘My name’s Moneta, I work for the Welfare Department. It’s my job to make sure the folks back home are taken care of.’

Penny’s brow furrowed. ‘We’re not married.’

A brown leather glove touched her arm. ‘Not yet, but soon maybe?’

Penny lowered her head. ‘I’m not sure that’s allowed.’ She felt a velvety touch; the outstretched hand raised her chin.

‘Anything’s possible, Penny. I doubt Steve would have asked me to make a special trip if he—’

Penny lost the struggle. Relief flushed the pent-up anxiety from her body and for the first time in years, someone saw her cry. ‘Sorry.’

Mud flecked tan boots took a step forward. Through her puffer jacket, Penny felt the woman’s firm embrace, the earthy canal masked by sweet vanilla. ‘Shh, it’s fine.’

The pressure lifted, the velvety touch returned. A gloved hand warmed the side of Penny’s neck and soft brown eyes smiled down, ‘Don’t worry, it won’t be long now. Give Steve a call. I’m sure he’d love to hear you’re okay, and please don’t forget to mention my name.’

Moneta’s smile fell to the wagging Digby, deep red lips parted to reveal perfect white teeth. She crouched and stroked his back, ‘What’s his name?’

‘Digby.’

‘That’s a cute name for a cute dog.’

Penny’s eyes narrowed on the woman’s right hand locked behind her back. Perhaps she wanted to keep that hand free from dog hairs. More alarming was the silken blonde hair brushing Digby’s head. Penny’s mind raced, when was his last flea treatment?

As the camel coat disappeared under the bridge, Penny leant down and rubbed Digby’s back. ‘Come on, you spoilt little boy, din dins.’ Her reward was a leg full of muddy paw prints, but she didn’t care. Penny glanced over her shoulder at the darkened archway; she hoped Steve didn’t spend a lot of time with Moneta.

* * * *
 

By the time Penny arrived home she had a sickening headache, the worst she’d ever had.

20:08 THU 02:11:2119

Black Zone, London, England, Sector 2

Steve relaxed on Jason’s settee and mused up at the oversized clock they’d acquired on a night out. He’d return to
Cool Breeze
tomorrow and collect his things.

The two glasses of
Chateau Pinard
had had the desired effect; unfortunately, each took half a bottle to fill. He tossed the MCD onto the adjacent settee cushion and pushed back. His feet rose and the seat reclined. He’d check his messages in the morning.

Heavy eyelids flickered shut.

Darkness cocooned him, steamy, gelatinous and sweet. Kacee’s face appeared; fervid eyes zoomed in. Someone else was there. Crying, sobbing.
Penny
?

Steve lurched awake, the room blurred, soured wine boiled. He leant forward, massaging his temples. The nausea abated with each breath; the dark premonition remained.

He tapped the MCD, 114 km away a blue light blinked aboard
Cool Breeze
. There were two messages. The first from Jannae. Wednesday 1
^st
November 2119, 19:12.

‘Hello, Steve, I have received your message, Thursday is fine. The cube is secure— I must go, someone is at the door. I hope you like pasta Verde.’
Who was that someone?

He tapped the screen again. The second message had arrived today, 17:32.

‘Hi, it’s me.’ His grip tightened;
Penny
. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said; I know it’s not easy, for anyone. Please come home,
sniff,
I love you and miss you so much. Thank you for sending Moneta, the welfare lady. You have no idea how much that meant. Love you always. Bye.’

Steve was standing before the message had finished. There were no welfare ladies, or men. Moneta was a codeword, a warning. An image of Penny’s blood-streaked face and solid black eyes threatened his lucidity.

He pitched his head up at the clock, 11:42.

* * * *
 

Steve’s trekkers struggled for grip as he ran along the sodden towpath. Ahead, a solitary light shone out across the watery black mirror.

He lowered his head and dived under the porch. The door-knocker’s brass ring shattered the silence. Windows popped into life, diffused light filtered out.

‘Who is it?’

‘It’s me, Steve. I need to see Penny.’

Bolts scraped back and Steve stepped into the pale light.

Terry closed the door behind him, his rounded features sharpened by trepidation. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Where’s Penny?’

‘In bed, she’s had terrible migraine.’

Steve bounded up the stairs and dashed left. Penny stood tying her favourite dressing gown, ivory chenille with pink roses. He’d used a month’s credit to buy that Christmas present.

She raised her head, slowly. Pale lips dimpled an even paler face. ‘I thought it was you.’

He stepped forward and held her shoulders, his smile genuine, but detached. ‘Hello, Pen.’ He scanned her face before settling on her dull eyes. Tiny red dots speckled white.

‘What’s wrong!’ Her face contorted. ‘I need to sit down.’

Steve lowered her to the bed. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

Terry arrived on the landing. Steve grabbed his arm and guided him towards the bathroom. ‘Penny’s been poisoned. We don’t have much time.’

Terry bobbed his blank face.

‘Go and run a cold bath.’

Terry disappeared around the corner.

Steve removed a medpac from his ruckall and unclipped a penjector.

Tears squeezed from Penny’s light sensitive eyes and streaked her bloodless cheeks. ‘I heard.’

‘It’s going to be okay, Pen.’

She smiled and reached out. ‘You came back for me.’

‘You knew I would.’

He slipped her grip. ‘I’m going to give you something for the migraine.’

‘I’ve already taken two hundred milligrams of Tryptaminol.’

‘It’s okay, this is pharma neutral.’

She smiled weakly, ‘I thought I was the nurse.’

Steve stroked the side of her cheek. ‘You’re much more than that. Try and hold still.’ He moved her hair, exposing a sallow neck and an angry pink square just below the jaw line.
Micro-needles.
Too shallow to reach the pain receptors and invisible to the naked eye they allowed for undetectable injections. In this case, nanossasin poison. The biodegradable needles would dissolve in forty-eight hours. Not that it mattered, in thirty-six the Penny he knew would be dead.

He placed the penjector against Penny’s thumping jugular vein and pressed down with his thumb. As soon as the red line stopped moving, he sat down and held her.

When she sagged into his arms, he lifted her up and followed the burble of running water to the bathroom.

‘That’ll do.’ Terry turned off the tap. Steve lowered Penny into the chilly water and rested her head back. ‘Open the windows.’ Terry did as asked. ‘Bring up everything you have in the freezer.’

Terry nodded and left. Steve pulled back his wet sleeve and dialled the MPS selector.

‘Hello.’

‘Alex, it’s Mr Wilkinson. I need the nearest MEDLAB capable of neutralising nanossasin poisoning.’

Steve waited on the blank display, ‘Alex?’

‘There are none, nanossasin doesn’t exist.’

Steve’s eyes shifted to Penny’s wraithlike pallor. The tap dripped away the seconds. ‘Nearest MEDLAB with nanobyte decontamination.’

‘Provenance.’

‘None downstairs?’

‘No, they’ve been closed.’

‘Okay, I need clearance for two people on the next available flight. Transfer a suitable ID to my MPS.’

Terry shuffled in carrying armfuls of ice-encrusted bags.

Steve nodded at the bath. ‘Lay them on Penny; put some around her neck. Alex?’

‘I’m here. CV zero-four leaves FH 1 at zero-one-fifty. Flight VH8209. Is the ID male or female?’

‘Female. Can you meet us when we dock?’

‘Yes, but I don’t have access to the nanotech labs.’

‘We’ll use cryostasis; find a depot close to the labs.’

‘I understand. I’ll meet you at zero-two-twenty Earth time.’

‘Thanks Alex.’

‘You’re welcome, Mr Wilkinson.’

Terry stood over the bath. ‘She’s turning blue.’

‘Don’t worry, that’s a good sign.’ He gripped Terry’s arm. ‘I’m going to get the car. Whatever happens
don’t
take her out of the bath.’

As he leapt down into the hall, Digby trotted into his path. Grabbing the newel post kept Steve on his feet. He scooped Digby up and set him down on the lounge mat. ‘Good boy, stay.’

Steve’s fingertips touched the end of his nose. Digby’s mustiness was adulterated with sweet vanilla.

Before he left he tapped a sequence into his MCD; so that by the time he reached the garage the Aegis was ready, its engine humming. The dashboard’s indigo-blue readout branded his consciousness, 00:35.

The return journey took less than a minute and when the headlights burst onto
Rose Cottage’s
whitewashed walls Steve whipped the steering wheel and thumbed the hand brake. Centrifugal force flung him against the door and stones clattered against the floor armour as the Aegis slewed to a halt.

He dashed up to the bathroom, dropped the evac-carry, and yanked the ripcord. The package hissed, parallel bars telescoped and locked with a series of clicks. In less than thirty seconds, it was ready. Terry chewed his nails and stared at the green plastic coffin.

Steve didn’t have time to explain. ‘Let’s go.’

With Penny secured inside, Steve tapped a sequence into the keypad. The evac-carry expanded and a whirr signified the air scrubber activation.

Terry placed his hand on the rigid plastic, his lips trembled, ‘I told her she shouldn’t get involved.’

Steve grabbed a handle. ‘We need to move.’ He was carrying enough regret for them both.

They carried Penny out to the waiting car, its interior already reconfigured. The evac-carry located in the alloy channels running over the folded passenger seats, its front bars locking into slots under the dashboard.

Steve closed the rear hatch, climbed in, and lowered the window. ‘Penny will call you as soon as she’s better.’ His right foot pressed down and his eyes moved up to the viewer. Terry stood in the reflected red glow, the black Prefects would take a while, but eventually they’d find everyone.