Provenance I - Flee The Bonds (4 page)

He stepped off the autopave, crossed the glossy floor and faked interest in a chrome and glass cabinet stacked with cologne.

A stiff middle-aged man in an even stiffer dark suit appeared. ‘Is it still raining, sir?’

Jason lifted his head.
Beat it.
‘Whadda you think?’

The man’s chest inflated. ‘Well sir, I think it's a consequence of two billion Drones having only wood as a fuel and the absence of environmental controls.’

Jason’s gaze hardened. ‘Is that an opinion or something you read on the Resistance network?’ The assistant retreated.

Jason turned his head. He could see her reflection in the autopave shaft wall.
I’ll give you one more chance.

She threw a glance in his direction.

He coughed, took out his ID and slid it across the glass top; his exposed left wrist revealed the platinum MPS. The assistant’s eyebrows rose, everyone knew the Mutable Personal System colours. Had it been black the assistant would’ve probably fainted.

‘Act normal and call up security.’

The assistant pulled an MCD towards him. It spoke a few seconds after his shaky fingers touched the red icon.

‘Hello Jackson, that big chap causing problems?’

The assistant pursed his lips. ‘The gentleman is an Advocate Commander.’

‘Oh, sorry sir, how can we help?’

Jason lowered his head. ‘Woman, sky-blue skiing jacket, short, brunette bob.’

A moment’s pause. ‘Yes sir, we see her.’

‘Pick her up. If she’s CONSEC, tell her to get a new job. If she’s a Drone, take her up to the roof and throw her off.’

The MCD spluttered, ‘I-I need authorisation for that, sir.’

Jason shook his head, ‘Get a lotta Drones in here do you?’

‘No, sir. Sorry, sir.’

Jason strolled to the autopave and descended. At the bottom, he hit the emergency stop button and stepped aside to let a Defender take his place. The woman on the autopave spun around, the shoulders of her skiing jacket dropped. Another Defender waited at the top. She turned and looked down. Jason thought her smile out of place considering the circumstances. He returned a grin, took a snapshot, and headed towards the exit.

Her lack of experience had been too obvious, too dangerous to ignore. She’d go back for retraining and he’d be having a one-sided conversation with her instructor. He glanced down at his MCD and smiled; perhaps he would get her call ID.

Out on the pavement, an icy splash stung Jason’s neck. He turned up his collar and cut back into the crowd. Next time he’d wait for the car.

At the junction with Orchard Street, he spun around and weaved back through the crowd. Satisfied his Guardian was still with him, he slipped into a shop doorway and rotated the MPS’s selector dial. No answer.

‘Stevie, Jas. I blew the beanie’s cover; she couldn’t follow an elephant in a matchbox. Briefing was the usual fluff, although I did meet a PSYOPS called Jannae Kalckburg. German accent, lumpy jaw. Sound familiar? If you’ve landed me in it buddy, I’m gonna bill you for getting me out. Forget about this afternoon, we’ll take care of it next week. Another one you owe me. Right, gotta go. Speak Monday. Jas out.’

Jason was about to step out into the throng when someone caught his eye. A tanned woman with a brunette bob wearing a sky-blue skiing jacket.
You again.
Jason hadn’t expected the Defenders to detain her, but he was surprised she was still tailing, and that his Guardian hadn’t picked her up.

A thought darkened his mind. His Guardian couldn’t pick her up if she was SIS.

He turned to face the shop window, took out his MCD, and tapped the screen. ‘Hi, Alex, how’s life upstairs — no nothing to report. Can you find out if CONSEC or PSYOPS have a watch order on me? — If I knew I wouldn’t be asking — no, I won’t forget; if I hear anything you’ll be the first to know. One more thing, send me that cloak-and-dagger upgrade, better send one to Steve as well — I don’t care, if SCITECH want me to protect him they’d better — right, thanks.’ Jason stroked the screen and tapped in a sequence. ‘Start. All rings broken, watch order on you, SIS and PSYOPS investigating Quads. Stop.’

He stared at his reflection. SCITECH had told him that Steve held the key to stopping SIS. What they wouldn’t tell him was how and from doing what? He did know they needed to hurry. Once SIS had infiltrated the Quads, they could make their move.

11:50 SAT 21:10:2119

Intra Zone, Wiltshire, England, Sector 2

Beneath a crystal blue sky, Steve followed Penny and Digby along the canal’s narrow towpath. Penny lurched forward; Digby had spotted a pair of geese.

Steve had spotted something else.

In the distance, a red duffle coat topped with frizzy blonde hair stood next to a bridge. He looked up; the sun glinted on something. His heart accelerated as he snatched up his vibrating left wrist. The MPS flashed red.
No, not here, not in front of Penny.

11:50 SAT 21:10:2119

Red Zone, London, England, Sector 2

Jason wheeled into Orchard Street and a lashing of rain. He exhaled noisily and slicked back his drenched hair. Next time he’d definitely wait for the car.

With only a few hundred metres to go to his apartment, he finally allowed his mind to wander back to Carine.

He’d decided on a menu of red meat pasta, red wine and chocolate, go for the primitive senses. He lifted his vibrating wrist; the MPS flashed red.
This had better be
—

The impact punched the air out of Jason’s lungs and engulfed his chest in blistering pain. His reflex arc was faster than most, but not fast enough. He yanked out the still pumping injector and slumped against a shop front. The composite alloy cylinder rolled from his hand and clinked onto the wet pavement.

Somewhere a woman screamed.

Jason’s chest stretched his leather jacket, his wheezing gulps rapid and deep. He knew it made no difference; he’d known it the moment he’d smelt bitter almonds. Cyanide had broken his respiratory transport chain; histoxic hypoxia had begun.

His Guardian knelt beside him. ‘Hang on Jason, help’s on the way.’ Jason’s nostrils filled with the savoury aroma of ‘Kubizkrisp’.

The torrent of panic slowed and Jason’s pounding heart died away. A fun fair flashed before him; bright lights and vivid colours filled his vision. The picture changed, a sun-drenched Duke Island park, chasing a dog. He ran as fast as he could but he couldn’t catch the dog. Now on top of the Empire State looking down at the miniature cars, he wasn’t frightened, he knew he should be, but he wasn’t. More images sped by, but he didn’t recognise them. The images merged into a bright flicker.

‘Momma.’

11:51 SAT 21:10:2119

Intra Zone, Wiltshire, England, Sector 2

Steve stared at his MPS’s flashing red screen. An icon appeared; someone on Provenance had activated an EM surge that would have knocked out unprotected electrical equipment within a hundred-metre radius. That’s why it required sigma authorisation.

‘Who’s that?’

Steve looked up. Penny had pulled Digby to a halt.

‘Message from work, nothing important.’ His MPS reset itself.
Maybe a glitch — or maybe not.
He’d seen her slink back into the shadow of the bridge’s brick arch. The frizzy blonde woman in the red duffle coat.

As they walked up onto the bridge, Steve’s uneasiness remained. The woman had vanished.

He copied Penny, resting his arms on the brick parapet. Water cascaded through the gaps in the lock gates, filling the lock with a boisterous froth. Carved in the top beam of each gate was the year 2108, Steve doubted they’d be replaced again.

His gaze rose to a narrow boat moored fifty metres from the lock, its cream and maroon livery sparkled. Penny had spotted it too.

‘Are you going to paint
Cool Breeze
this year?’

He sighed and shook his head. ‘Here we go.’

‘Well, I don’t understand it. You keep the inside spotless and yet outside it’s a pile of rust.’

He couldn’t tell her that the flaking two-tone livery hid fifty millimetres of adaptive armour plating, or that he’d added the rust.

‘You know me; I’m not one for flashy things.’

Her eyebrows rose. ‘Unless it has four wheels.’

He put his arm around her shoulders, ‘You’re not jealous, are you?’

‘Should I be?’

He lowered his head, ‘Never.’

Their lips parted and he relaxed his hold, ‘Let’s forget the mill, we can have lunch at the Blue Boar.’ Whoever the woman in the red duffle coat was, he’d prefer to confront her alone.

‘Only if Digby can come.’

‘Sorry, not allowed in the restaurant.’

A smile accompanied the light punch on his arm. ‘Or your precious car.’

He smiled down at Digby. She was right. Those muddy paws weren’t going anywhere near the Aegis.

Steve led the way back to
Rose Cottage
, the lock keepers house and Penny’s home. A picture postcard house of whitewashed walls and leaded windows under a thatched roof.

Penny held out Digby’s lead. ‘Can you take him around the back while I change?’

Steve followed the flagstone path around the side of the cottage to a white picket gate. Wood smoke tainted the air and out of sight, twigs snapped. He opened the creaking gate and stepped onto a square lawn enclosed by trimmed hedges. Penny’s father stood at the opposite corner of the cottage, the broad back of his short stocky frame stretched a navy boiler suit.

‘Hello, Terry.’

Terry turned. A jovial smile formed in his round weathered face.

‘Hello, Steve. How are you?’

‘Fine thanks.’ As Steve closed the distance between them, he nodded in the direction of the smoke. ‘Your shed’s on fire.’

Terry chuckled, ‘Just burning dead stock.’ He pointed his secateurs at the bare rose bushes climbing the snow-white wall. ‘Laura would never forgive me if I didn’t keep them tidy.’

Laura, Penny’s mother, had died of cancer four years before; her ancestors weren’t Continuity and so not eligible for PURE. Cancer, and any other genetically inherited diseases, only killed Drones.

While Steve listened to Terry explain how he intended to grow a fountain of roses, familiar doubts crept in; a nagging sentiment of injustice that he’d found increasingly difficult to suppress. Terry looked up. His enigmatic expression warranted a response, but Steve just smiled. He hoped the Resistance never gained tech weaponry, as much for their sake as Continuity’s.

The gate creaked; Penny strolled towards them, ‘Hello, Dad.’

‘Hello, Pen, you look nice.’

She twirled her pea-green and black striped sweater dress and charcoal leggings. Clear plastic over-boots covered bright green flats. Steve masked his pensive thoughts with a smile. He’d seen the dress many times before. He could afford anything she wanted, and yet he had to pretend otherwise. That was the price of deception.

‘Steve’s taking me out to lunch.’

Steve stepped closer. ‘I was thinking more of a sandwich.’

‘I can make that myself.’

He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, ‘Now there’s an idea.’

She broke free and kissed Terry on the cheek. ‘See you later, Dad.’

They returned to
Cool Breeze
and Steve changed into a pair of charcoal twill trousers, royal-blue shirt, and black wool jacket.

Setting off in the opposite direction to Penny’s house, they followed the towpath for six hundred metres to the village. Lower Chilwyn was quintessentially old English, brick houses and leaded glass windows beneath moss-ravaged thatch. Steve didn’t expect to see anyone. Lower Chilwyn, like most villages, had been all but abandoned and that suited him perfectly.

A few minutes later they stood outside an innocuous brick building resting against a vacant cottage. Steve swiped his MCD over the alarm, and watched the weather-beaten doors trundle apart. Light glimmered on the sleek shape thrusting out of the gloom. He glimpsed Penny’s face; she didn’t share his enthusiasm.

Car manufacturers had ceased production when metals became a controlled resource, not that the BAR Aegis had ever been a production model. Its gleaming midnight-black bonnet hid a bio-fuelled Class IV Hypo-turbine, capable of propelling the two tonne armoured Coupé to 150kph in under four seconds. Steve had told Penny he’d inherited the Aegis after the death of his parents. He couldn’t tell her the truth — about either.

He used this CONSEC Protection Vehicle to transport Council members in, and out of high-risk areas. Not today though, today CPV 06 was going to lunch.

Their journey to Barlton would take ten minutes. He occasionally glanced across, but Penny contented herself with the passing forest. A bouquet of suicidal pheasants caused Steve to swerve and smile; Jason would have told him to activate the weapons system and go get dinner. Two kilometres later, the Aegis burst out of the forest into the midday sun and headed down the hill.

Steve parked alongside the other cars in the high street; Barlton had long been popular with the epicurean Continuity.

He followed Penny to the timber-framed shops lining the street. As usual, a jeweller’s window entranced her. A falling population had resulted in an abundance of second-hand stock.

Her beaming face almost touched the glass, ‘Wow, look at that. Middle tray, second row down, fourth one in.’

He leant in, following her finger to a diamond solitaire ring, ‘I can’t see it, it’s hiding behind that ginormous price tag.’

The point of her elbow found his ribcage. ‘We both know where your credits go.’ Her head turned towards the Aegis. ‘Paying for that thing.’

Steve nodded at her necklace. ‘And that.’

Penny’s hand reached up to the silver pendant, the dolphin’s sapphire eye sparkled. She tiptoed and kissed him. ‘Yes. And that.’

Steve hadn’t bought it, but it was his to give away. Penny’s silver dolphin had an identical twin, buried in a small coffin at Saint Mary’s church on the outskirts of Peterborough.

He locked his arm into hers. ‘Come on, I’m hungry.’

The sign for the Blue Boar hung off the front of a crooked building; its brick filled oak frame had stood for over five hundred years. It wouldn’t have to stand for much longer.