Cole yanked away from her. ‘Nate!’ he choked.
Ana grabbed at his T-shirt to hook him back. His movements were too big, too obvious. They must have seen him.
Please don’t let them have seen.
‘Cole,’ she pleaded.
From behind, Dombrant clutched at Cole and pushed him down. He had slipped around them without either of them noticing.
‘It’s Nate,’ Cole whispered. Ana fumbled for her moon necklace, pressing it between finger and thumb. Cole would never let the Psych Watch take Nate. She angled herself to see better. Far in the distance, Nate climbed off the long ladder and walked towards the second van, arms swinging at his sides.
Dombrant’s eyes flicked sharply between Ana and Cole. The exhaustion of grief had been wiped from his face, replaced by a look of determination. A man with a mission.
‘Apparently,’ he said, ‘the Chairman still thinks she can regain control of the situation and save the Board. They’re taking as many of the Project guards as they can to the Board’s Headquarters.’
‘Why?’ Cole croaked.
‘Her special Paralyser weapon didn’t work as planned in the Project. Maybe she wants to know what went wrong.’
The Board’s Headquarters.
White-washed corridors. Marble floors. A woman in a grey suit looking at something Ana carried in her arms. A young girl appearing from a wall. An operating table. Doctors. A two-year-old boy. Huge black eyes. A green map. An incision. Blood.
A voice breathed inside her. ‘
Save the boy.’
‘Maybe she wants to dissect them in her lab,’ she said.
Cole stared at her. ‘What lab?’
‘The Chairman’s conducting experiments on the Arashan children.’
‘How could you know that?’ Dombrant asked.
For a moment, Ana remembered standing outside Three Mills with Cole the first time they had gone there together and she asked him how he was so sure that his Glimpse was real and
she
was the girl from it.
Don’t you ever just know something, Ana?
he’d said. At the time, she hadn’t understood. But now she did. Now there was nothing that could shake her certainty.
She held Dombrant’s stare. ‘Evelyn Knight doesn’t leave anything to chance. She’s very thorough. Whatever she’s up to with the Benzidox and the Paralyser vibrations, she’s been planning it for twenty years. Preventative health care. Free Benzidox for every school child across the country . . .’
Dombrant frowned. ‘That deal hasn’t gone through yet.’
‘Only because it’s been waylaid. But it’s still on the table. And she’s behind the scenes, pushing it hard.’
He ran a finger and thumb across his chin, thinking. Cole would agree in a heartbeat to follow the vans and try and hijack one of them. But they needed the Warden. Ana glanced down the street. The back doors on three of the vans were shut. Only one more to fill up and the Watch patrol would be leaving with their prisoners.
‘Go ahead,’ a man shouted as he corralled guards from the ladder into the fourth van. ‘We’re right behind.’ The driver of the first van waved a hand out of his window and started his engine.
Ana flipped an eyebrow at the Warden. He picked up on what she was thinking immediately, as though he’d been considering it himself.
‘We can’t steal one of the vans,’ he said.
Cole swallowed. ‘Yeah we can,’ he said, realising the plan. ‘We’re gonna hijack a van. The one that stays behind.’
‘You’re not up to it,’ Dombrant said to him.
‘I’m up to it.’
‘What about me?’
‘Each van has two male guards. You’ll have to stay here. Help those still in the Project.’
‘No.’
The Warden’s face squeezed tight. ‘Ana, one of the last things your father asked me to do was to protect you.’
‘Well how can you protect me if I’m not with you?’
Dombrant looked to Cole for help.
‘There’s no point arguing with her,’ Cole said, his mood beginning to lift. ‘She always wins.’
The Watch patrol riding with the first three vans climbed into their respective vehicles and the first van pulled out into the road.
‘How are we going to do it?’ Cole asked. Now that they were planning a wild counter-attack come rescue, he was almost bouncing on his toes to get going.
Dombrant pulled a gun. ‘I’ll do it, you two stay back.’ Ana hadn’t seen the gun in his holdall. He must have been carrying it beneath his jacket before he dropped by the Warden’s Station. Even at the hospital.
They crouched low behind the wall as the first van with the eye emblem of the Psych Watch on its bottom corner, passed them by. The second and third followed closely behind, turning left up Merton Lane.
‘All right,’ Dombrant said. ‘The easiest way to do this, is going to be before the last van makes a move.’ He hesitated, eyes flicking to Ana, serious, questioning. Her breath caught in her chest. He had to kill the Watch patrol; if he only injured them, they could be found or alert the Board’s Headquarters. It was the only way. She nodded.
‘Hang on,’ Cole said. ‘What’s that?’
Back up the street where the Watch had brought the Project guards over the wall, a head emerged. Shoulders, chest, legs – the man in a woodland brown and foliage green jacket and trousers climbed over the wall and began descending the ladder.
Dombrant cursed. ‘The Board’s Special Ops.’
The Special Operations Officer reached the ground and strode to greet the man from the Watch closing up the last van. They shook hands, exchanging greetings, their loud, careless voices echoing between the walls on either side of the road.
Another Special Ops appeared at the top of the wall, then another and another.
‘Six,’ Cole counted.
‘They’ll be waiting for alternative transport,’ Dombrant said. He swung his holdall over his shoulder. ‘Follow me.’
Ana and Cole ran after him up Merton Lane, which was steeper than it looked. They passed a driveway with a huge metal gate at the end. Ana’s chest began to burn. Cole was beside her, moving easily. Whatever Clemence had done, it had worked, and his migraine seemed to have blown away with the hope of retaliation.
‘Here,’ Dombrant said. He pulled in behind an abandoned lorry with deflated tyres, peeling paint and the wing mirror dangling off. There was a loud zipping noise as he cracked open his holdall. He took out two Stingers and gave one to Cole.
‘What about me?’
‘You’re the damsel in distress. Or rather the damsel having a mental breakdown. Hopefully, these guys will think it’s all in a good day’s work to stop and pick you up.’
Ana bristled at the sexist stereotyping.
Cole winked at her, trying to be reassuring.
‘Don’t show any fear,’ Dombrant said. ‘They’ll see it. Act, Ana. You’ve been acting for years. You can do this.’
She nodded.
‘Once they stop,’ he said to Cole, ‘wait till they get out. I’ll be on the other side. You take the driver and I’ll take the passenger. We’ll be using Stingers. No guns or the Special Ops will hear us. Have you still got those sedatives?’
Ana shook off Cole’s black rucksack and pulled out the sedative she’d prepped the day before when her father and Dombrant had ambushed them outside Three Mills. She’d left the plastic bag with the rest of the stuff in the Psych Watch van.
‘Just one,’ she said, handing it to him.
Dombrant sucked through his teeth. ‘Not ideal. If we split it they’ll be waking up in half an hour.’
‘What if we take them with us?’ she suggested. ‘Put them in the back of the van. Then if they regain consciousness I’ll Sting them.’
‘The van’s coming,’ Cole warned.
Dombrant dropped his holdall and darted across the road. He had the Stinger in one hand, the needle with the hard plastic covering gripped between his teeth. He crouched down beside a rusty shell of a car.
Ana moved into the centre of the road.
Act.
The only time she’d seen someone picked up by a Psych Watch van was when the man had knocked someone out with a hammer, and was manically swinging the tool around. She yanked open the black rucksack and took out Cole’s hammer which she’d used to bump the lock in Three Mills. Seeing the Psych Watch van crawl into the street, her legs trembled. She walked towards it, waving the hammer. Passing a car at the side of the road, she plunged the hammer through a side window. Glass tinkled as it smashed. She cried out, releasing the fear.
She began running down the centre of the road, reaching out, smashing another car window, taking a shot at the wing mirror.
The black van cruised towards her, beginning to slow down. In a fit of inspiration, she bombed forwards, flailing the hammer like she was going to smash the vehicle’s headlights, or get run over in the process.
The van stopped. A door clicked open. One of the men leaned out. ‘Out of the way!’
She swung her arm and brought the hammer down on the nearest headlight. The patrol man descended, baring his teeth. In a flash, Dombrant was on him, kicking him down, pressing him with the Stinger. Cole jumped the driver, thrusting his weapon into the man’s ribs. The driver convulsed falling against the horn. A loud beep blared across the street. Cole tore the guy off the wheel, while Dombrant dragged the first one to the front of the van. Ana helped him hoist the man into the front. A voice buzzed on the driver’s earpiece. Cole retrieved it and tucked it in his ear. The three of them froze.
Leaning into the unconscious driver, where his mic for his communications device was clipped to his shirt, Cole said, ‘Everything’s fine. Just some protestor who wouldn’t get out of the road.’ He smiled calmly. ‘No problem. Can never be too safe.’
The air conditioning inside Novastra Pharmaceutics was on full blast. Stepping inside the frosted glass interior was like walking through the centre of an iceberg. Windows rose sheer from the doors, stretching across the vast lobby and extending upwards four floors. Soft light glowed inside the translucent walls, which separated the vast corridors that led off from the main reception. Jasper passed his ID through the first scanner at the entrance. He wore the grey suit he’d bought for his binding with Ana and a stripy tie. The tie might have been overkill, but he wasn’t going to risk getting turned away on account of a dress code.
He strode to the welcome desk, brown envelope clasped in his hand. No gawping. No searching around. He needed to give the impression he’d been there a thousand times, though as far as he remembered, he’d never frequented his father’s place of work. Not even when Tom trained in the research labs.
The receptionist greeted him. She had emerald green eyes. Undoubtedly dyed. Her amber-red hair was cut in a sleek, graded bob. When she took his ID and realised he was the son of David Taurell, CEO, her eyelash batting went into overdrive. She attentively instructed him how to fill out the form he needed for a building pass, then told him to smile for the camera.
Jasper looked across at the opaque glass circle behind the reception. The shutter opened and shut. Recovering the printed image, the receptionist slipped it into a machine to make his pass, chatting as she did so.
Did he remember anything about his kidnappers? Was his memory coming back? How did it feel to join with a girl he didn’t even know?
Jasper leaned in close to retrieve the visitor’s permit. He flashed a smile, going for seductive and the receptionist blushed and stopped talking.
‘You have to keep the pass on you at all times, in case there’s a power cut,’ she said.
‘Sure. Actually, it would mean a lot to me if this was a surprise. You won’t tell my father I’m coming up to see him and ruin it, will you?’
The young woman ran a finger over his hand resting on the counter. Jasper tried not to flinch.
‘I’ll keep your secret,’ she said. ‘Be sure you come and say goodbye to me on the way out.’
He clipped the archaic-style pass onto his suit blazer and moved through the security scanner. A guard blocked his way. ‘Is there a problem?’ he asked, struggling to achieve the nonchalance he was going for.
‘You haven’t turned on your interface,’ the guard said. Jasper waved a hand in front of his chest and his home page projected swirls on the guard’s uniform.
‘You’re obliged to keep it on at all times,’ the guard informed him. Jasper nodded. Every interface had a built-in tracer, which meant his location could be monitored wherever he was, and the visual could be tapped into and verified. Everything Jasper did could be seen, possibly even recorded, by security.
The guard proceeded to frisk him, then ran a hand over the brown envelope to check there was nothing ominous inside.
‘Switch it off,’ he said, indicating to Jasper’s interface with a nod of his head, ‘and someone will come and find out what you’re up to.’
Jasper rode the glass lift to the top of the building. The frosted lobby and marble floors spread out below, then vanished as he glided into darkness. Lights blinked on. All that was now visible through the glass doors was the metal lift-shaft.
The lift opened onto a reception area the size of his parents’ living room. A couple of couches were scattered about. A young man perched behind a slab of white marble.
‘Can I help you?’ he asked, one hand sliding under the desk to the security button.
Jasper held up his pass. ‘Jasper Taurell. I’m here to see my father.’
‘Take a seat,’ the man instructed.
Chopin’s piano concerto no 5 drifted through the reception’s wall speakers. It reminded Jasper of the first time he’d seen Ana play at a school concert. She’d been so unfathomable. Such a warring mix of strength and vulnerability, passion and restraint. As though she were two halves of something that didn’t fit together.
Since yesterday, most things about their relationship had come back to him. All the mistakes he’d made. The way he’d strung her along while he tried to make up his mind about what to do with the research disc his brother confided to him.
Jasper slapped the large envelope against his thigh. He paced the lobby, scrutinising the appalling artwork of squiggles and bright paint splashes. The receptionist transferred a few phone calls. He felt the man’s eyes on him, wishing Jasper out of his bubble of serene isolation.