“
It’s good to see you too Simon,” he said, ignoring the question.
“
It broke dad’s heart that you stayed away when he was ill. You know that don’t you?”
“
I saw him before he died. We said what we needed to each other. Don’t assume you know anything about my relationship with our parents. You have yours. I have mine. I bet mother hasn’t been complaining about it like you are?”
Simon was sure he could see a slight sneer cross his brother’s face.
“
Well, you know mum. She doesn’t think you can do a thing wrong. Dad didn’t either. And how you take advantage of that.”
Somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear the same mantras he’d heard throughout their childhood, gnawing at his thoughts:
“
Stop lying Simon, Vincent wouldn’t do that.”
“
Why don’t you behave like a real man, like your brother.”
“
Vincent hasn’t wasted his time on a meaningless degree. He’s got a real job.”
“
Simon, say sorry to your brother.”
The sneer on Vincent’s face grew.
“
Really, Simon, that sounds like sibling jealousy to me. And I thought it was the youngest son who was supposed to be the jealous one.”
“
Don’t flatter yourself that I’d be jealous of you for an instant. You chose your path in life and you can stay on it. I have no interest in it. You’ve sold your sole to the devil. At least I’ve still got my integrity.”
Vincent removed his sunglasses, placing them on the dining room table, before looking back to his brother, his eyes as piercing as ever.
“
And so speaks the great intellectual mind of the family. Is it any wonder our parents never had any interest in your career when you’ve wasted it so completely? Our father was a do-er. He got his hands dirty actually making things happen, making things work. He didn’t hyopthesise the whole time, wondering how things might happen in some intellectual utopia. He went out and did the job. And that’s what I do. That’s why he didn’t need the constant gratification of knowing I was there, in his face. Because he knew I was out there doing something. Not just talking or thinking about doing something.”
Simon could feel his anger rising as his brother goaded him and the intellectual, academic path he’d taken.
“
Believe me, I’d take the same path every time rather than sell out to some parasitical company like you have.”
A smirk crossed Vincent’s face as he watched his brother’s face flush red with anger.
“
So you’ve heard about my new job and promotion then, have you?”
Vincent had always known exactly what buttons to push with him to elicit maximum irritation. Over the years he’d even been able to see when he was doing it. But no matter how hard he tried, despite his resolutions that he’d never rise to his provocations again, the red mist always came down. And Vincent always ended up winning their psychological games. They didn’t need to have a fistfight. His brother could always hit him harder with a few well-chosen words. It was his natural talent.
“
You disgust me. How can you possibly think a company like SemComNet has anything other than its own self-interest at heart? Remind me again, what’s its slogan: ‘Bringing the world to you’. What a pile of shit. Companies like that aren’t interested in delivering any good. They’ll just stamp on all the smaller companies developing proprietary software and using open standards, homegenising everything in its path. Why don’t all we just say goodbye to creativity and free thinking now and go home. Tell me, does your job description explicitly say ‘shit on the competition at whatever cost’?”
A wry smile crossed Vincent’s thin lips, although Simon detected the merest hint of annoyance flash across his eyes. He’d clearly touched a nerve. A minor victory for him. No-one else would have been able to detect the indiscernible change in his expression. But this was his brother. He’d grown up with him. And he could still spot it.
“
Well, who knows? We’ll have to wait and see. Maybe one day we’ll be able to get university computer research departments shut down when we launch our own graduate scheme. What do you think will be more appealing? Twenty grand’s worth of tuition fees or a nice fat bursary to come and work and develop the future of semantic web technologies with SemComNet? Why don’t you try computing that?”
Simon’s expression dropped at the prospect of such a scheme as Vincent reached for his sunglasses, replacing them on his narrow nose. His veiled threat was the sort of scheme his brother would readily setup just to piss him off.
“
I won’t hold my breath waiting for a visit from you then,” he replied coldly, turning to see where his mother was returning from the garden. “I’m sure you’d like the new premises we’re going to have built. Very modern.”
And without another word Vincent was swiftly gone. And after a quick exchange of pleasantries with his mother he’d left the family home, staying barely long enough for the tea to get cold.
Exhaling deeply, attempting to calm himself down, Simon looked into the long garden, mentally noting who he should go and talk to next. It was hard to believe he was related to Vincent, so far apart were their beliefs and outlooks on life. If they didn’t look like brother’s he might have thought one of them was adopted.
Distracting him from his musings, a slender arm slipped round his waist as Jenny leaned in against him. His wife had been the perfect host, even though it wasn’t her house, guiding everyone through to the garden, loading them up with food, and saying all the right things befitting a wake. He was lucky to have her. A fact reinforced by his latest verbal spat with his brother.
“
Are you OK?” she said softly. “I saw you talking to your brother. I didn’t really want to interrupt. It looked a bit intense.”
Simon nodded, sighing again at the memory of it.
“
He’s unbelievable, he really is. He doesn’t show up at all during dad’s illness, although he tried to tell me he did. Then he saunters in here and thinks he’s going to get a warm reception.”
Jenny looked at him knowingly, raising a quizzical eyebrow.
“
Are you sure that’s all you talked about? You sure you didn’t get onto his new job? You said you weren’t going to, didn’t you?”
Simon bit his lip, frustrated at his own transparency.
“
I’m sorry I couldn’t help it. I really didn’t think he was going to turn up. Then he started goading me, I couldn’t help myself. But it wasn’t the only thing we talked about. I told him what a selfish shit he was. Well, I implied it at least.”
Jenny nodded, squeezing his arm.
“
Look, I know how hard this is for you and your mum. Don’t let Vincent make it any worse. OK?”
Simon nodded, knowing she was right. But as he watched his mother returning to the garden, talking to another distant cousin, he couldn’t help but feel sad at her unflinching belief in his motives. Why couldn’t she see what he could? What everyone else could surely see? But then maybe that was what being a mother was? Perhaps if he and Jenny ever had children she could tell him if that was really what it was like.
Whatever the truth though, he knew one more thing for certain. He didn’t have to see his brother again if he didn’t want to. And after the day’s event that wasn’t likely to change for some time.
Michael pulled the Land Rover into the quiet car park next to the angular building and looked around for any signs of life. In the building to his left the odd window was illuminated, bearing testament to an over-burdened professor or researcher still working at this late hour.
The monolithic structure of the Medical and Sciences Campus at South Downs University was set in gently rolling landscaped grounds surrounding the 1970s concrete structure. Concrete beams, running horizontally and vertically, were evenly interspersed with tall windows running along the length of the building.
On the ground floor, above a loading bay which ran along half the side of the building, a single light was on, housing a couple of the night security guards who were chatting whilst they drank cups of coffees.
As the three men exited the Land Rover Michael noticed a set of greenhouses perpendicular to the campus building. A dim light shone inside revealing various plants and vegetation, carefully being nurtured and monitored for specific research purposes. Despite the light, the greenhouses and the car park were deserted.
Simon Trevellion led the way, walking back round to the other side of the building where a slightly inclined ramp led down to the building’s main entrance. As the electronic doors opened they walked into the quiet foyer where a further security guard sat behind a glass windowed reception desk. Simon nonchalantly walked up to the desk with Michael and Brown close behind, although pretending to be interested in the contents of a postgraduate students’ notice board.
“
Evening Bob,” Simon said, resting his elbows on the counter in front of the reception. “It’s quiet in here tonight.”
The security guard, a man in his late 50s and who was reading the sports pages of one of the day’s newspapers, smiled and nodded.
“
Yeah. Nothing much going on tonight. The Film Society was in here earlier but they cleared out about half an hour ago.”
Simon nodded, discretely casting a glance at the screen behind the security guard which was showing a CCTV feed of the campus perimeter. The security guard currently had his back to the screen.
“
I’m just heading up to see Ben with a couple of friends.”
He cocked his head in the direction of Michael and Brown who were still reading the notice board. The security guard briefly looked in their direction before nodding his acknowledgement and returning to his newspaper.
The three men filed past reception and past the cafeteria which was locked up for the night before reaching one of the buildings many staircases. In contrast to the rest of the building which was painted in sombre magnolia the metal staircases were painted a vibrant red.
Climbing up three levels the men found themselves on one of the landings, laboratories signposted in either direction. Simon turned to his right and slipped through the double doors. To the left a long corridor stretched as far as the eye could see. To the right was the entrance to a laboratory bathed in light.
The quiet lab was split into row after row of workspaces. Each was interspersed with gas taps for Bunsen burners, specimen trays and an assortment of microscopes. In one of the corners a tall orange canister was propped up against the wall, rubber tubing running out the back of it into a connection in the wall. In large black letters the words ‘Liquid Nitrogen - handle with care’ ran across the canister.
Leading the way Simon slipped through one of the doors on the left hand side of the lab. A long narrow office intersected another lab running parallel to the one they were standing in. Another door on the right led to a further office.
Tapping gently on the door Simon waited before it opened. A tall grey-haired man in a white lab coat appeared. He had a slightly scruffy appearance, several days grey stubble and long straggly hair that needed a cut and a comb. Surveying Michael and Brown suspiciously he turned back to Simon.
“
Are these the guys that contacted you?” he said finally as a younger man in his late 20s appeared in the doorway from the parallel lab.
Simon nodded, turning to face Michael and Brown.
“
These are the guys I told you about. They’re part of our group and can help you. This is Ben and Wally.”
The two men nodded in acknowledgement. Ben, the younger of the two men, stepped forward to shake their hands. A knowing look crossed his face as he shook Michael’s hand.
“
You’re Michael Robertson aren’t you? I just knew the Horsemen were going to be the guys that had been all over UKCitizensNet. Pleased to meet you.”
Simon turned to Ben, a look of surprise and slight annoyance on his face.
“
You could have shared this revelation with me before I turned up to the meet them without a fucking clue.”
Ben looked slightly sheepish and stepped back.
“
Well, it was just a hunch. I could have been wrong. I didn’t want to freak you out before you had a chance to speak to them.”
Simon frowned, looking at Wally who was still standing in his office doorway.
“
Don’t mind Wally, he doesn’t say much. But he’s kept our kit hidden away since we setup the Ephesus group.”
Ben had no such difficulties in showing his interest in Michael and Brown.
“
So, are you going to tell us what’s going on then? Where did that amazing bit of code come from?”
“
Let’s go into Wally’s office and I can explain everything,” Michael replied.
The campus car park was still deserted as the black Volvo estate pulled in next to the Land Rover. Two men dressed in black combat clothing exited the car before walking quietly across the car park to the window of the security office situated in the building’s loading bay. The office was now occupied by a solitary security guard listening to a late night talk show on his pocket radio. Beyond the office a corridor led away to one of the building’s many red painted metal stairwells.