The Stone Man - A Science Fiction Thriller (51 page)

Eventually, after he’d finished, and read and reread it several times whilst making small adjustments to it here and there, he was ready to go. He took a deep breath, and switched on Straub’s phone.

Even when he pushed Straub’s name in the phone’s contact book—the only other name in the contacts book being David’s, but Paul wasn’t going to be dealing with
that
guy—the call kept failing, much to Paul’s nerve-rattling frustration, but the reason for that soon became clear. The torrent of texts, voice mails, and e-mails that flooded in after a few minutes of unsuccessful call attempts told him both that the phone, after being switched on, had been too busy gathering all of his waiting communication formation, and that Straub and her people had been trying very hard indeed to get hold of him. He almost thought about reading some of the texts and listening to the voice mails, but decided against it, pushing forward impatiently. If there was anything in them that might actually offer him salvation, Straub would surely tell her himself straightaway … but he doubted very much that that salvation was the content of the messages.

The next call that he attempted connected successfully, and the phone was answered on the other end after one ring. Paul waited for her to speak, and initially there was an odd silence on the other end, save for a faint rustling sound. It was a sound Paul knew; the sound of someone holding a phone mouthpiece to their chest to muffle it. He could picture Straub clearly, barking at the rest of the room to
shut the fuck up, he’s on the line.

The muffled sound lifted, and Paul could now hear machine noises in the background, but nothing else. Straub paused before she spoke, and when she did, her voice was calm, soothing and controlled … but the effort it was taking to make it so was clear in every gentle syllable.

“Paul,” she said, trying to sound warm but managing only ice cold, “we’ve been trying to get hold of you. Are you all right?”

“Yes … I mean no, no … I mean, look, I’ve been busy,” Paul bleated, wincing at
I’ve been busy
despite his frantic state of mind. It was the most lame comeback possible in the face of world-changing events. “I mean … sorry, I’m bloody sorry. This is just bloody hard to handle, all of this. I’m just …” Paul trailed off, taking in the field around him, the starry night sky, the feeling of the cold breeze as it made his skin raise. He had to bite down on fresh tears.

Not now, Winter. This is NOT the time. Keep it together.

“Of course it is, no one’s blaming you,” replied Straub, and Paul thought she might even mean it, despite the stress of her own situation. After all, could anyone really blame him for not just handing himself in? Could they? “This isn’t a normal situation, Paul. But you’re calling me now, aren’t you, and that’s a start. I can only imagine how hard that alone must have been for you, so you’re making a hell of an effort, and I appreciate that, I do.”

Paul listened closely, thinking he heard another voice nearby on Straub’s end, a whispered stream of words in the background. He couldn’t make out what the words were, but he could guess. The adviser, the negotiator, listening in to the call and prepping Straub’s responses for her. These were the pros, after all. Paul reminded himself to be extra aware of whom he was dealing with.

“Good, good, I’m glad, thank you,” replied Paul, his voice shaking as he began to play his own negotiating game. “I … I wanted to talk to you.”

“I’m listening,” said Straub, after a very telling pause, “it’s the least I can do, considering … what we’re asking of you.” The second pause was too short to be a thinking pause, and the words afterwards were spoken too fast. Straub had attempted to cover the fact that she had someone giving her cues, and failed. Paul decided not to let on that he knew. He took a deep breath, and tried the gamble that might save his life.

“I wanted to suggest something,” he said, speaking slowly and deliberately, his eyes shut. “I know that you probably already know where I am now, and that you’re also probably on your way. And that’s okay, I know I’ve … been taking a long time to get in touch, and that you have a job to do. I understand all that. So I’m not going to go anywhere, and I’ll sit here and wait for you lot to turn up, I promise. The barriers will be up soon anyway, and I know you’re trying to get to me before they do, so you can … take care of things. And that, that, you know, that’s fine too. I just want you to listen to me for a few minutes, and hear what I have to say, and then you can do with it what you like. Straight shooting, cards on the table. All right?”

There was silence on the line, except for the continued background hum of whatever machines Straub’s team had working in the background. Paul began to panic a little.

“All right?” he repeated, more anxiousness in his voice than he would have liked.

“Hold on,” said Straub, all business now, the false honey gone from her voice, and then the muffle came back on the line. All Paul could hear was the rustling sound in his ear, and the almost deafening thud of his heart in his chest. The muffle lifted, and when Straub came back, she was to the point.

“Okay, Winter, straight shooting. We’re all ears. You have about ten minutes until our team are there, so I’d make it good. We weren’t a million miles away from your position as it is, being totally honest. Our new guys—the ones who came forward—checked out. Together, they had it down to about a hundred mile radius from where you are now, and they were closing. They’re not as good as you two were, which explains why it took us so long to be convinced by them, but they work at least.” She caught her breath for a moment, and then, to Paul’s surprise, she sighed. “That’s coming out wrong. I didn’t mean it that way. It was supposed to make you feel better; that we have people that can still help, that can save lives.” She sighed again. “I do mean it about not judging you though, Paul. I’m pissed off it’s taken you this long to turn up—and if I’m honest, I’m surprised as well—but I can’t say you’re a totally bad person for it. It’s the biggest thing to ask of someone, after all.”

“The new guys,” asked Paul. “Do they know what’s happened to me and Andy? As in, do they know two of their targets are the people who used to …?”

Again, a lengthy silence.

“No,” said Straub eventually, and firmly. “They don’t. And I’m sure that even you’d agree it needs to stay that way. No?”

“I don’t know,” answered Paul, rubbing his eyes as he suddenly felt incredibly, unbearably tired. His head started to throb. “I don’t fucking know.” A thought occurred to him. “Andy. Have you … where’s Andy?” This time, there was no hesitation from Straub. Relaying bad news was obviously something she was more experienced with.

“He took care of things himself. He didn’t want our help. I spoke to him this morning. His body has been recovered from the car park of a Birmingham hotel since; he’d jumped out of the penthouse window. He wouldn’t have suffered, Paul, jumping from that height. It would have been instant. He died a hero.”

The weight in Paul’s stomach doubled, and he had to steady himself as a wave of nausea washed over him. He knew it was coming, but for it to be so final was too much, and almost as much was knowing that Andy had the stones to get the job done ... while Paul didn’t. And even in that moment, the voice that whispered
SURVIVE
told him that it didn’t matter, that he had a job to do. He tried to get his lips moving, but for a moment, nothing came out but a high-pitched, barely audible whine.

“Winter? Paul? Are you there?”

“I’m here,” whispered Paul, dragging himself back to conscious function by sheer force of will. “I need …” He coughed. “I need you to listen.”

“You already said that. I know, Paul.”

“Uh. Ah. Yes. Yes … I …”

“Breathe, take your time. This is your time.”

Paul slammed his left heel into his right shin, and the sharp physical pain focused him.

“Okay. Yes. I have something I want to suggest to you,” he said, breathing deeply and slowly. “I have a proposal.”

***

Paul spoke for roughly three minutes as he outlined his plan, his voice shaking terribly when he got to the main point of it. Straub listened in silence throughout, giving no indication of either agreement or disagreement. He included as much detail as he could, keeping it all as realistic as he thought possible, and repeatedly emphasising the potential benefits to the whole country. His hope was that by doing so, he would give his plan more weight, and not just be seen as an attempt to save his own skin.

Once he’d finished and his breath was held in his throat, all he could hear down the line was the continued steady hum of machinery. It hadn’t changed during the entire phone call, as seemingly relentless and unending as the Stone Man’s pursuit. He waited for Straub’s response. He would shortly find out whether his life would end in the next few minutes, or if he would, in fact, receive a stay of execution. The latter wouldn’t mean salvation—at least, not for sure—but it would mean a
chance
. The thought of it was like an adrenaline shot.

Straub finally spoke.

“Give me a moment,” she said, and Paul could read nothing in her voice. He was left alone in the dark for a full minute as the muffle went back on, and when she came back all she said was:

“I’ll call you back. Stay there.”

The line went dead and Paul stared at his phone’s now-returned home screen with his jaw hanging slack.

It wasn’t no. It wasn’t no. They might actually go for it.

The minutes passed, and Paul continued to stare at the screen, his gaze unmoving as he hopped slowly from foot to foot and waved from side to side like a catatonic patient. He only looked away once, to the west, as he thought he heard the sound of several approaching helicopters, but then went back to staring, this time swaying faster than before.

The screen changed, and Straub’s name appeared. Paul’s hand moved so fast to hit ‘ANSWER’ that it was barely visible in the dark as it did so.

“Yes?” asked Paul, simultaneously ashamed of the desperation in his voice and too desperate to really care.

“The barriers,” said Straub, her voice inscrutable, “are they up? Can we move you?”

Paul hesitated, torn between giving a foolish, instinctive lie as a response and the need to actually check. This held for a moment, then sanity prevailed, and he marvelled at his own temporary
in
sanity, at how close he’d come to screwing everything up.

“I don’t know,” he replied, before quickly adding, “but I’ll check, I’ll check.” In his desperation, he hadn’t thought that they’d want to move him, his plan being based on stuck where he was. His mind raced, seeing sudden cracks in the plan that might mean its failure, but he quickly realised that it made no difference. Where he was, or elsewhere, it didn’t matter. But did he really want to risk being moved and have the barriers appear whilst in transit? That would be disastrous.

“Wait,” he said, holding up a hand to halt someone who wasn’t there. “I’ll find out, but you can’t move me. If you want to try this, if you want to try my idea, it has to be here. The barriers could go up en route. Yeah, you’ll have me and can finish me off at your leisure, but you won’t get to try this out, and this could be the answer to the whole thing. If you’re gonna move me, you might as well send the hit squad and get it over with.”

“Winter, do you realise what you’re suggesting?” replied Straub. The tone wasn’t aggressive, was still matter-of-fact. It almost sounded as if she was testing him. “The amount of damage that would happen in the meantime, leaving you there? The potential loss of life, directly or indirectly?”

Paul took a deep breath, and pushed his luck.

“Are you seriously telling me that your boys in the back room didn’t think of something similar already?”

Straub sighed, and there was impatience in it.

“Yes, Winter, but in an entirely different scenario,” said Straub, but Paul thought she didn’t sound too certain in her response. “Not with a target stuck up north, for starters. We were talking about a completely controlled, purpose-built environment, right in the middle of bloody Coventry, right at Ground Zero, and in a scenario where a target was detected early enough to be moved into that area. Operatives specially trained and prepared for the exact procedures involved, supplies already in place, and most importantly the whole thing would be out of the eyes of the media. And besides, the whole thing wasn’t to even be tabled again unless other protocols we’ve been developing failed first,
multi-billion pound
development protocols at that.”