Rifter (The Survival Project Duology Book 1) (10 page)

Her stomach was really beginning to make itself known.

She stepped into the only pawnbroker’s shop she’d seen, the moment it opened, at half-past seven, with all the authority and bravado she’d been taught, even though her insides were knotting like an unruly cord. There was no one else in there apart from the assistant, who could well have been the owner. There was no way to tell. The place smelled of age and possibly decay. She glanced at the objects already on display as she passed by them and it made her sad. All these objects had been relinquished because people couldn’t afford to live. And that was exactly what she was doing. This coin was an ancient artifact on her world and it was being given up for her to eat a meal. That made her angry.

She slammed the coin down on the counter, a little harder than she’d meant to.

“How much?” she asked, pushing the nerves from her voice and trying to keep her face impassive.

The assistant looked her up and down. He was no seedy back-street merchant, or certainly, he wanted to give the impression that he wasn’t. He wore a fine suit. He was clean-shaven. His hair was neatly combed. He was smart. He was professional. This might turn out to be more difficult than she’d imagined.

The man took out an eye glass and looked at the embossing on the coin. He made no sound that would give away his opinion on the piece. The fact that she knew that on her world it had been taken from a museum that no one could afford to maintain and it was priceless, was unimportant. On this world, it was probably unknown, but that could easily be explained away. It might even be an advantage. She wondered how up he was on ancient history.

After he’d scrutinised every aspect of the coin, he placed it on the scales. Once again, this was no rough estimate, he had a precision made machine.

He looked up at her with sceptical eyes. He’d probably practised that look, just like she’d practised her look of firm and not budging.

“Where did you get it?” he asked, finally.

The story was always the same. They didn’t have their own individual circumstances for this. It wasn’t necessary, because the likelihood of them arriving on the same world, in the same place was so … well, lost in infinity, that it would simply have created extra work.

“My grandmother found it.”

He raised his eyebrows and turned the coin over again.

“Recently?”

She shook her head. “She found it when she was a little girl, in the fields behind her house.”

The man sighed as if that were a bad thing. “Never declared, I assume?”

Mara shrugged.

He made a tacking sound with his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He dallied, shaking his head.

“Anything with this kind of provenance is always a risk,” he said, obviously preparing her for the worst, “If I take it, it could be seized. You know what those Government officials are like.”

She said nothing, putting the burden on him. He didn’t look the least bit uncomfortable.

“I’ll give you one-fifty.”

“One hundred and fifty?” The words were out before she could stop them.

“Yes, dear. I’m not a con artist.”

She crushed a laugh. She really should haggle. It wasn’t like she had no experience. But one hundred and fifty pounds was probably enough for her needs. If it wasn’t, and she’d made some terrible error in her calculations, she’d spend another night in the park. It wasn’t so bad. She held out her hand to shake. “No need for that, Miss, just sign the docket.”

As she pulled her hand away she noticed how grubby it was. He was probably scared of catching something from her. Paperwork completed, he opened the till and pulled out the cash. “Small notes?” he said. She imagined everybody wanted small notes from the stack he held in his hand.

“Please.”

He shook his head again, as if he were genuinely displeased. Turned out, he was.

“You young people. All you want is a quick fix. You don’t think anything of what the future might hold. Money isn’t everything.”

She really wanted to correct him, but at best he’d have thought her crazy, at worst he might have called the police. In a strange way, his words gave her hope. Perhaps, not everyone was so into consumption and excess.

“Thirty days,” he said, to the hour. “I won’t hold my breath.”

He handed her a receipt.

She understood completely, and he was correct. She took one last look at the coin and then she asked , “Is there anywhere to stay around here that won’t break too much into this?” She held up the money.

“There’s a hostel round the corner. No idea how much they charge, but plenty of backpackers go there, so it can’t be that bad.”

“Left or right,” she said, holding up her hands.

“Right out the door, then first left. You can’t miss it. Dirty great flashing sign outside.”

“Thanks.”

She left without another word, turning right, then right again.

Twelve

It was half eight by the time Leo managed to leave the flat the next morning. Mayra wouldn’t let him go, because she was so paranoid about what might happen to her. He’d told her so many times that nothing was going to happen, but she wasn’t receptive to his words. She was scared, which in her head meant he couldn’t go to work. In the end he had to push her out of the way in order to leave, which didn’t go down well, and involved her shouting out the window at him as he walked toward the tube station.

He didn’t really expect Mara to come back to the flat, or to jump out at him as he made his way around the city, but she might, and even that slight possibility made the hairs on the back of his neck bristle with anticipation. He needed to be constantly alert to anything out of the ordinary, and in a city the size of London, that wouldn’t be easy.

Because of the delay in leaving his own flat, after going to Atwood’s place, there wasn’t any time left to check on either of the pawnbroker shops he’d singled out to visit. He considered going anyway, but that would’ve been pushing Debra’s tolerance a little too far. He didn’t want her to get suspicious this early in the proceedings. Unfortunately, when he arrived, he discovered she already had. At least, that was how he interpreted her attitude, and his interpretations of her attitude were rarely wrong.

Debra waited for him at his desk. That was even worse than a summoning.

“My office, now,” she barked, turning to leave before he had time to respond. Atwood shrugged, but looked almost complicit. It was obvious that his partner knew what Debra was going to say, but he was staying tight-lipped about it.

Leo flung his jacket over the back of his chair and followed her, matching her brisk pace as she strode down the corridor.

There were a number of possibilities, with varying levels of danger attached. She’d discovered he hadn’t gone to the hospital and, therefore, had technically been bunking off work — that in Debra’s books would be a major infraction, but would not involve anything more than a telling off. Even she had to abide by the employment laws. Or she’d heard about Mayra’s attacker from the police report — unlikely, they would have no reason to contact her about such a run-of-the-mill matter. And then there was the worst possibility of all, that she’d seen Mara enter his flat — he knew she often put a tail on him, but he hadn’t detected anyone following.

Or, it could be something completely different, innocent and non-disciplinary.

Right.

Debra’s office stretched out across a corner spot in the building and had amazing views across the city. Sometimes, that distracted him when he was there, but not this time. He was distracted by other things. Mainly, the fact that he was tired from lack of sleep and stress, and needed to use all his energy to keep his eyes open.

She didn’t sit, which was another bad sign, but beckoned him to do so, so that she would have the height advantage. He let her have it.

“What’s up with your face? Too much sunshine?” she said.

“Something like that.”

“Indeed. I have something you might like to see.”

He raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

She walked behind her desk and swivelled the computer screen and keyboard to face him. Then she returned and perched primly beside him on the front corner of the heavy mahogany surface and pressed the key to play a video clip. The still, black and white image came to life, but he already knew what it was going to show. It was obvious that the scene was the park. He decided that he wasn’t going to panic yet. All they were going to see was a woman coming through the rift.

The footage was from a CCTV camera that overlooked the exact spot where the disruption had appeared. The image wasn’t blurry, but it was far enough away, and at an obscure enough angle, that recognition of the features of the person captured on it, was impossible. He’d studied such recordings over the years. He knew the deal. It was obvious it was a woman. There was something different about the way women moved.

“Notice anything?” she asked. He decided not to play dumb.

“It was a woman who came through.”

“Clearly.”

He continued to watch.

He was surprised by how much time Mara had wasted. Considering how close they were to the park, she was lucky they hadn’t arrived before she’d moved out of sight. He hadn’t wasted any time when he arrived, although his situation had been somewhat different.

The clip ended. Leo tried to regulate his breathing. He was surprised that Debra didn’t ask him anything else. Instead, she clicked onto another clip and his heart sank. Too many cameras overlooked the site. He knew that. But the park was better protected from prying eyes than most places in London. It had been the right choice, he hoped.

The second clip was from a much better angle, lower and closer. You’d still have to study it very closely to notice the similarity between Mara and his girlfriend, but they could be seen if you knew what you were looking for. Of course, Debra would’ve had the recording studied in microscopic detail using state-of-the-art software, by people who did know what to look for.

But the people who were looking wouldn’t know Mayra.

Debra would, from his file.

“Anything else?” she asked.

He leaned back in his chair. “What do you want me to say?”

She let the moment drag out, retiring to her own chair.

“I know your girlfriend went home last night, so don’t even try to tell me that she hasn’t told you, and I’m still wondering why you didn’t call in with that fact. You knew Francis was here. It might have taken the IT guys all night to determine if it were true, but your girlfriend was home by, what time was it? One?”

He screwed up his face. There was something she wasn’t divulging yet. Nothing in the two clips he’d seen made a connection between the women, other than their features.

“Oh, silly me. I didn’t show you the other clip, did I? Go on, press the button yourself.”

There was a third recording on the screen. It took him only seconds to realise what it was. Mayra’s attack. Debra must have pulled a few strings to get that.

She steepled her fingers and looked across at him.

“You do see why this is significant?”

He nodded to give himself a precious few more seconds to think.

“Yes, but I thought she was being paranoid when she told me last night. I didn’t really believe her. The brain does funny things to you when you’re attacked. She could’ve imagined it.”

Debra picked up her pen and twirled it like a baton between the fingers of her left hand.

“Yes, McNaught. The brain does. Things usually become sharper. Everything is seen in stark detail when you think you might die. Time slows down. I can give you some books to read on the subject, if you’d like.”

“No need.”

The conversation wasn’t going well.

“I admit they look very much alike. She thought she might have a twin.”

“But she doesn’t. Who is she? Don’t mess with me.”

Lying when someone else knew the truth was always pointless and there was no possibility that he could run.

“She’s a rifter.”

“Yes, I know that. How come you’re shacked up with someone who looks exactly like one of your former colleagues? One of your former colleagues whom you didn’t tell me existed. Don’t lie to me, McNaught. We gave you a very nice place to live in exchange for information about The Survival Project and now I find out that you omitted something vitally important from your accounts. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to prise information out of you. It makes me wonder what else you missed out. I don’t want to have to question you by other methods again.”

Leo rubbed at his wrist. Months of being herded around wearing handcuffs had not been pleasant. It had taken a lot of persuading to prove to them that he wasn’t a threat. Debra was right, of course. He hadn’t included Mara’s description on the list of potential incomers from another world, because he hadn’t wanted her to know.

“We were close,” he said. He lowered his head. He let his shoulders sag.

Debra shook her head, but he didn’t react.

“She had pictures of her grandmother in her room. People had always said she was the spitting image of her grandmother at that age. I—”