“
But how? I could never have willingly given up Colette or Clare. Not for anything.”
Brown leant forward from the hard wooden seat he was perched on.
“
Look Michael, it was impossible for any of us to keep our former lives. The government, and whichever part of it that supports SemComNet and UKCitizensNet, came after all of us. At first it was a bit of roughing up by a couple of particularly unpleasant 20 stone thugs. Then our bank accounts were drained dry. And then the death threats. All because we actively opposed UKCitizensNet. We all believed in our cause. We still do. So we stood by our principles. But then they came after our families, the most extreme leverage they could have used on any of us. They wanted to know where all of our kit was so they could prevent us from hacking their system. In return they wouldn’t break the legs of Smith’s daughter. Or cut off Jones’s wife wedding finger.”
Brown and Jones exchanged a knowing glance as Michael listened intently.
“
At that point we all knew there was only one course of action we could take. We had to disappear and go on the run. Effectively become fugitives in our country, even though we’d committed no crime other than to support freedom of speech and freedom of information exchange.”
“
What did you do?” Michael asked, memories of his former life flashing before his eyes.
“
We faked our own deaths. It was the only thing we could do. The four of us were all friends, so it wasn’t odd for us to be all together. An explosion in a warehouse near to where we all used to live in London sufficed. And leaving round a few of our charred belongings was sufficient to convince the authorities we’d all been killed. The blaze was so intense they’d never have found anything more than ash anyway. It was the perfect cover. From then on our families were left alone and they lost their bargaining power. Of course, they still know we’re out here as objectors to UKCitizensNet. But they don’t know who we are, so our friends and family are safe.”
Michael looked to Jones first, relieved to finally hear some personal details. Even if he didn’t have his real name to match.
“
So you’re married?”
“
14 years next month,” Jones replied sorrowfully, looking down at the pale white tan mark of where his wedding ring had once been. Everything from their previous lives had had to go when they’d faked their own deaths. “It’s funny, but despite everything you’ve been through with the deaths of your family, we’d have given everything to have had the time you had with your daughter. How old was she when she….”
The sentence tailed off as the two men held each other’s stare.
“
She was eight,” Michael said quietly, as a picture of Clare dancing before him, her blond hair swishing from side to side, filled his thoughts.
“
We always wanted children. But Margaret, my wife, wasn’t able. We tried everything. Even IVF four times, but it just wouldn’t take. They told me it had nothing to do with my fertility. They didn’t say it was Margaret, but then they didn’t have to. It’s just as well I was raking it in at Microsoft. God knows how we’d have afforded the IVF otherwise. Margaret would have been fifty if we’d waited for treatment on the NHS rather than going private.”
Not wishing to dwell on the issue of children, a painful subject for them both, Michael chose another subject.
“
What did you do for Microsoft?”
“
I was a chief software engineer for six years, working primarily on their operating systems. It was good until that bastard McCoy banned access to the internet. The company’s priorities changed at the point. I think if I hadn’t gone down the road I have I would probably have been out of a job in 18 months anyway.”
Jones sank back on the sofa, sighing at his predicament. The pain of telling it one more time didn’t make it any easier to bear. Michael’s next question was all too predictable. And he had his answer ready.
“
So, do you ever see your wife? Just to see what she’s doing.”
Jones looked at the floor, clasping and unclasping his fingers as images of Margaret came rushing back. Images of her getting into her car and driving to her job. Images of her doing her weekly shop at the supermarket. And images of taking flowers to his grave at the nearby cemetery.
His tombstone was always immaculately kept. It was the pride of the graveyard. Every month, on the 23
rd
, the day of the month he had ‘died’ she would visit. Without exception. Always with a fresh bunch of flowers, clearing away the dead remains of the previous offering.
Jones paused for a moment, casting a nervous glance at Brown, fearing his response.
“
For the first few months I discretely kept an eye on her, following her around, but always out of sight. I think I hoped she would see me, but always knowing that she couldn’t. I so wanted to tell her I was alive but knew that I couldn’t. No matter how hard people try, no-one can really keep a secret. She would have told someone, who told someone else, who told someone else. And before long that someone would be working at SemComNet and they’d be threatening to kill her. I couldn’t put her though that, or myself. In the end, I just stopped. I let her go. I had to.”
Brown’s jaw had dropped slightly at this revelation. Biting his tongue at what he really wanted to say, he said his piece quickly.
“
You’re a fucking idiot. You could have got yourself killed, again. You could have got all of us killed, including your wife.”
Jones raised a dismissive hand at Brown, shrugging off his admonishment.
“
Look, I said I wasn’t doing it anymore. So don’t lecture me.”
With the tension rising Michael turned to Brown whose face was flushed with anger.
“
So what about you? What did you give up for the cause, for this existence?”
Brown smiled, looking to Jones and then to Green who was oblivious to their conversation.
“
Not as much as the others. I had someone who I saw on and off. When we had to go into hiding we were ‘off’. I always guessed she thought I wanted that permanently. There was no emotional farewell. No trauma at my passing. I don’t suppose she even knew. She was working in France at the time. She probably just thinks I moved on. It was no big deal emotionally. The biggest sacrifice was the lack of freedom. I don’t have any children and I don’t have any family. No-one misses me. It’s as simple as that.”
“
What about your job?” Jones replied, slightly acidly, still annoyed at Brown’s former admonishment. “You lived for that.”
Brown scowled, knowing Jones was right.
“
Alright, so I was pissed off I had to leave my job because of this. I worked for Google, developing their search algorithms. It was a fascinating job until fucking SemComNet ballsed things up.”
Michael raised his eyebrows. Knowledge of the computer industry wasn’t one of his strong points, despite having been married to Colette. But he certainly knew of the two companies his companions had worked for and the scale of their reputations. It certainly explained how they were able to take Colette’s work and use it so readily.
“
You’d have liked Colette,” Michael said quietly, with a sense of pride. “Her ideals and yours aren’t a million miles apart.”
An expression of doubt crossed Jones’ face and Michael knew what he was thinking, even without him having to say it. How could she have sympathised with their cause when she worked for one of the companies the four men saw as their natural enemy?
“
Colette was very much opposed to the banning of access to the internet in this country. Even to the point that she gave serious consideration as to whether she could remain in her current job. But then, when the opportunity for her company to bid for its replacement came along she saw it as a means to right the wrong she thought had been committed. Believe me, if SW Technologies had won the tender for running UKCitizensNet it would be a very different beast to what SemComNet developed. Information wouldn’t have been censored and restricted. Colette would have made sure of that.”
Jones raised his eyebrows involuntarily, a look of doubt crossing his face as he tried to make his reply as tactful as possible.
“
Look Michael, I don’t doubt your wife’s motives. I’m sure she was ‘trying to do the right thing’ with the SW Technologies tender bid. But this was a dirty tender from the start. Even if it hadn’t been contrived to give the contract to SemComNet, her company could have been corrupted. Everyone has a price.”
Michael nodded knowingly, wondering what Trevellion and SemComNet’s price had been.
“
So what about the others?” he asked, dismissing the thought, and looking in Green’s direction before turning to Jones.
“
Well, Green worked for one of the big Japanese banks whose name I can’t pronounce, up in London. He was some sort of financial security analyst. Whatever the bloody hell that is. He did try and explain once before I fell asleep. All I know is he’s the best hacker I’ve ever come across. But I’m guessing he didn’t learn that skill in high finance.”
“
And Smith?”
“
Smith is a chemist by trade and was working for one of the big pharma companies. Roche or GSK. I can’t remember which one. Anyway, he’s pretty nifty with any sort of chemical as well as being the biggest computing bore you can possibly imagine.”
Jones and Brown laughed at their own private joke. Michael pointed an accusing finger at Brown opposite.
“
What, more than you, with your computing conspiracy theories?”
Brown’s expressions dropped whilst Jones laughed even harder.
“
Well, I was right, wasn’t I?” he replied indignantly.
Regaining his composure, Jones continued more sombrely.
“
Smith was married, but she left him after a few years. Probably for being so bloody boring I shouldn’t wonder. But they did have a daughter together. She’d be about five now I suppose. He hasn’t seen her since he’s been hiding. Her name’s Charlotte.”
“
Good for him,” Michael said quietly, trying to remember what it felt like to hold Clare. But as hard as he tried he couldn’t quite place the feeling. “Let’s hope one day he can see her again and tell her who he really is.”
The three men nodded, contemplating their own predicaments. Would any of them ever hold a loved one again? Or enjoy a beer with friends? Or just enjoy the freedom to be able to travel anywhere they wanted without the fear that their name and passport would quickly get them arrested.
Images of the Antiguan coastline, the perfect blue sea, and a little glass-bottomed boat flooded Michael’s thoughts. Would he ever feel that again? He knew he wouldn’t with Colette or Clare. All he had now were their memories. And he needed to hold onto them. But until he knew why they’d been taken from him he knew he’d never be able to truly enjoy them again.
Rising from his seat as the images threatened to overwhelm him he turned in the direction of the unused bed at the far end of the mobile home.
“
I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to go to bed.”
And in an instant he was gone.
Jones and Brown stared, not uttering a word as they let him go. Although unspoken, both men were left grappling with the same terrible question. A question they feared they already knew the answer to.
Would any of them ever get back what they’d lost?
The door slid silently open and Trevellion exited the elevator. Grimacing, he pulled his expensive suit jacket tighter across his chest and proceeded in the direction of Sebastian Tate’s office.
He knew the route well, he’d been here many times for various clandestine meetings. And each time he returned this part of the building was always as silent as a tomb. Considering the importance of what was decided behind the doors he passed as he strode up the corridor, there was always a calm about the approach. A calm that was at odds with what CODEX was undertaking.
Trevellion cast a glance at his watch as he reached Sebastian Tate’s door and stopped. He hated being summoned to see Tate at the best of times. But especially when there were vital issues at SemComNet needing his immediate attention - issues such as Michael Robertson and his four accomplices. Despite the fact Tate wanted to discuss this with him, his time would be more usefully spent finding a solution to the problem rather than just talking about it.
A wry smile crossed his face. That was government bureaucracy for you he thought, knocking on Tate’s office door before entering.
Looking up over the top of his glasses the silver-haired Tate motioned to Trevellion to take a seat. He didn’t speak as finished reading the confidential document SemComNet had sent him, another inclusion for CODEX file
OP09/ST
.
There was no computer on his leather upholstered desk, only a set of hard-copy papers for him to read and annotate. The rest of his department might be at the cutting-edge of technology but he still preferred to read the written word from paper rather than a screen. With all he knew about SemComNet and the technological possibilities UKCitizensNet amongst other things provided, he trusted the integrity of a paper document. There were no secrets embedded here, no usage monitoring or targeted customised announcements. This was good old-fashioned words. The only surprise came in the content itself, not the way it was delivered.
“
Vincent, good of you to come,” he finally said, sliding the SemComNet document back into its folder.