“Since when?”
“Since it was announced this week. I’m hoping there will be some real hotties.”
“What happened to the girl from the party?”
“Don’t ask; that cow.”
“Didn’t end well then?”
“You didn’t hear?” He turned to me and I shook my head. “She took a picture of me and put it on Facebook and emailed it to all her friends.”
“Was it bad?”
“You seriously haven’t seen it? Well, you must be the only person in the world who hasn’t. The sodding thing went viral. I had to have a nice long chat with the headmaster. And with the school nurse.”
“Why the nurse?”
Hugo flushed. “Oh, no reason. I have to say, it’s nice to know someone hasn’t seen my… well, seen the picture.”
“I’ll have to rectify that,” I said, reaching for my laptop.
“Don’t you dare,” he said, slapping my hand away. “And don’t tell your sister. She might be the only girl left I’ll have any chance with. I can wait a few years.”
“Seriously, dude. Stop it!” Hugo was smiling and I knew he was only winding me up. “It’s nice of you to let her win,” I said, softening.
“Let her? Are you kidding me? She’s killing me… And here she is.”
Katie came in carrying a mug of tea and a glass of orange for herself. She placed the mug on the bedside table next to Hugo and took her place back on the floor.
“How about I only play with one hand?” she said. “Maybe that will even the odds.”
“Laugh it up, Tyler. Pick any character and I will destroy them. Get ready for the Wrath of Sister Ra!”
Katie picked up the controller and they were off again.
I lay back on the bed and let their banter wash over me.
I am falling. I can feel the wind whipping against my face so hard it feels as if it’s trying to tear my skin off. I try to scream, to shout out for help, but the wind whips my words away. I can see the ground coming for me; racing towards me as quickly as I am falling towards it.
I clutch at passing ropes and branches that appear from nowhere, desperately trying to grab hold of something that will save me. But as soon as I touch anything it turns to dust in my hand.
Suddenly, I am yanked upwards. I am flooded with relief. I don’t care about the aching pain in my wrist, only that I am no longer falling. I look to my wrist to see a black, burned hand holding mine. I follow the hand up the arm to see the face of my saviour. Only I know that whatever I am about to see will be a hundred times worse than smashing my brains on the concrete below.
The man holding me doesn’t have a face. Not anymore. But I still know who he is. Or who he was.
Abbott opens a lipless mouth and speaks. “What have you done?” he says.
I scream and tear my hand out of his grip, surrendering to gravity. Death will be a relief. I feel every bone in my body shatter as I hit the ground below. And I…
I woke. Not sitting bolt upright, screaming and sweating like you see in the movies. Just one minute I was dreaming and the next I was awake. Disorientated for a moment, I tried to calm my breathing and work out where I was. I was at home. In my bedroom. And I was alone.
I checked my wrist, as I could still feel a burning pain. But there were no marks. It was only a dream.
I probed my memories, like I did every time I woke up – sensing for changes in the reality I found myself in. Sometimes, they’d just be tiny things, subtle Shifts made while I slept that altered my world. Other times, the changes could be terrifying. But tonight, it seemed everything was as it had been. I rolled over and tried to fall back asleep again. Although I already knew it wasn’t likely.
CHAPTER SIX
It was Monday morning and my third attempt at getting the eye scanner on the lifts to work. It was bleeping “Individual not recognised” at me over and over. The problem with these things was if you were at all bleary-eyed in the morning they just wouldn’t register you. The NSOs patrolling the entrance kept glancing my way. Any minute now, they’d have me up against the wall for a pat down.
“Still can’t get them to behave, hey?” said a soft lilting voice from behind me.
I turned to see CP Finn smiling up at me.
“Stupid things,” I said, punching the wall next to the scanner. “I don’t know what we even need them for.”
“This is the question. Are they here to keep others out?” CP said stepping next to me. “Or to keep us in?”
“Either way, they don’t work,” I said.
“Max says the system was ripped out of the palace of some Middle-Eastern dictator.” She shrugged. “Anyway, shove over.”
I stepped aside to allow CP access to the control panel. She waited till the scanner slowly tracked down to her eye level, lifted her long fringe out of her eyes, and let the criss-crossing lines of blue light scan across her face.
The machine purred happily. “Cleopatra Finn. Access granted.”
CP growled at the screen and stepped in. “Now everyone knows my name,” she said.
“Everyone already knew your name, Cleopatra. Because I told them.”
I grinned at her and she punched me in the arm.
We stood in silence waiting for the doors to close.
“So, um, have you heard from Jake?” she said, looking down at her shoes.
“’Fraid not,” I said. “I did tell Rosalie to say ‘hi’ though.”
“Oh, yeah. No bother.”
“He’ll be in touch soon, I’m sure,” I said, as the lift struggled to the first floor.
“Yeah, sure. Anyway, lots going on round here, right. You excited?” she asked.
“What about?”
CP turned and looked up at me, her small face wrinkled in disappointment. “The Prime Minister’s visit!”
“Oh, yeah.” How could I forget? It’s all Sir Richard had been talking about for two weeks. “For someone who only just learned about the existence of Shifters, the PM’s certainly very interested in what we’re doing.”
“Well, I guess when he found out that a bunch of superpowered kids were being secretly trained by the government he kinda had to do something about it.”
“I heard he gave Sir Richard a right old–’’
The
ping
of the lift door opening cut me off.
“Anyway,” I said, stepping out. “I’m just staying out of the way. Catch you later, CP.”
She waved as the doors slid closed.
I headed for my desk where Aubrey was already working, flicking through the night’s reports on unregistered Shifts. The analysts had already graded which ones warranted investigation and Aubrey would be deciding which ones to follow up.
“Anything good?”
“The usual. Couple of fights in Clapham. Some kid trying to retake her exams in Isleworth. We may have to go and check out one of them in Holborn.”
I heard a loud bang, and turned to see Sir Richard striding down the corridor towards us. Everyone on the floor instantly looked really busy.
“Tyler, Jones,” he boomed across the room. “My office. Now.”
“Yes, sir,” Aubrey said, throwing him a salute. Then waited till his back was turned before throwing him an entirely different kind of hand gesture.
“What do you think he wants with us now?” I asked, pulling myself out of my chair.
“Probably just wants us out of the way so we don’t upset the PM,” Aubrey said glumly.
Despite knowing we were following him, Sir Richard had still chosen to close his door. I knocked on the dark wood and waited for the barked reply.
“Come!”
Sir Richard had taken over his son’s office, clearing it of Morgan’s old files and minimal furniture and filling it with an antique desk and an oil painting of himself. The painting wasn’t a very good likeness. It showed him looking off into the distance, as if he was thinking deep, important thoughts, resting his chin on his hand. We knew that under that hand was a chin of gargantuan proportions, but the artist had wisely decided flattery was the best way to avoid incurring Sir Richard’s rage.
He was scribbling into a black, leather-bound book with a gold ink pen, pressing down so hard that speckles of black now covered his face.
I coughed to hide my laugh.
Sir Richard looked up and for a second looked surprised as if he hadn’t just asked us in here. “Yes, right. You two. As you all know, I’m meeting the Prime Minister today. This is huge. Huge, do you understand me?” His moustache quivered as he spoke. The big man was bricking it.
We both nodded.
“So, I’m relying on you two not to make a total mess of it all. I don’t want another fiasco like the races, do you understand me?”
Asking us whether we understood was his favourite phrase. We both nodded.
“Right well. I’ve just been informed that the President of China, who is visiting the UK at the moment, has also shown some interest in ARES. As I’m sure you’re aware relationships between the UK and China are somewhat strained at the moment.”
I wasn’t aware of any strained relationships between anything. But then, I got most of my news around the water cooler.
“Well, they did sell weapons to Borneo,” Aubrey said, who was clearly more up on current affairs than I was.
“I don’t want to hear anything about that, do you understand?” Sir Richard snapped. “That whole mess has been cleared up. Anyway, President Tsing goes everywhere with a Shifting unit called the
Banjai Gonsi
.
They’re his personal guard, prepared to sacrifice their lives for his. They are, I have been informed, exceptionally well trained, not to mention deadly. He wanted to come and see ARES HQ, but God knows we couldn’t have had that. If he realised what a shambles this place is still, he might decide to declare war. No. We couldn’t have that at all. So, Number 10 suggested that some members of ARES accompany the Prime Minister as he takes Tsing on a prescheduled tour of the Shard. Two birds. One stone, you understand? So, I want you two to go–”
“Us?” Aubrey said. “But we have more important things to do.”
“More? Important? Than the Prime Minister?” Sir Richard bellowed, getting up out of his seat. “What could possibly be more important?”
“The containment of Project Ganymede personnel, sir,” Aubrey spat.
“Oh, yes…” Sir Richard sat back down in his seat, his moustache twitching again. “You brought in another of Abbott’s boys last night.”
Sir Richard had taken to calling the members of Project Ganymede “Abbott’s boys”. Most likely as an attempt to distance himself from the whole mess. Despite the fact that his signature had clearly been on the documents approving the project, he still denied all knowledge. I’d yet to decide if he was actually hiding things from us. Or if he really was so big an idiot that the whole project had gone on without him knowing. Twice. First when a scientist called Dr Lawrence started it up. And second when Mr Abbott decided to try it again.
Aubrey had made her mind up the day Sir Richard walked back into ARES. She didn’t trust him.
“Yes, sir. Mr Glenn has been processed, just as you required.”
“Good.” He regarded her with leery eyes and let the silence last for an uncomfortable length of time. It was like being with my parents again.
The lack of trust was mutual. While Aubrey was sure Sir Richard must have known about the experiments, Sir Richard believed Aubrey was hiding something about Greyfield’s. I was staying well out of it. The less anyone knew about my part in the whole thing, the better. I stared up at the ceiling and made pictures out of a damp patch in the corner.
Sir Richard finally broke the silence. “And you’re still not any closer to finding the mysterious Frank Anderson?” It was an inquisition, as if we weren’t doing our jobs.
“We’re following some leads,” Aubrey said, lying fluently.
“Well, you can get back to following your leads tomorrow. Today, you’re to pick a handful of reliable cadets and meet the Prime Minister and the President. It’s against my better judgement, but the request has come straight from Number 10. Apparently shots of him talking with children play well with the media.”
“The press will be there?” I said. “So we’re going public with ARES?”
“God, no. No, the press are there because the PM needs as much positive PR as possible at the moment. So, as far as anyone without clearance is concerned, we are a military school for gifted individuals.” He looked us up and down and then stroked his huge chin. “Gifted, you understand? So try and not to act like total idiots, yes? You’re to smile, nod, answer any question the PM or the President might have as quickly as possible, do a bit of Shifting, and shove off. And I’ll be there, so any sniff that you’re not playing this by the book and you’re out of ARES. Do you understand me?”
“Smile. Shift. Shove off. Got it, sir,” Aubrey said through gritted teeth.
“Good. Good,” he said. And then the silence again. I looked back at the damp patch. From one angle it looked like a rabbit. From another an old lady. Sir Richard hadn’t had much reason to speak to me before this and I wanted to keep it that way. Keep my head down and just hope he got bored of bossing everyone around and went back to falling asleep at the House of Lords.
“So, can we go then?” Aubrey asked with more hostility in her voice than I thought was wise.
“Yes, go. And I want you both in full uniform today. So you’d better spruce yourself up. Especially you, Tyler. You look like crap.”
And with that, we were dismissed.
The dress uniforms were ridiculous. Far too many buttons, stupid gold braid dangling off our shoulders and a too-tight collar. I could hardly breathe. My legs made small buzzing noises as I walked: the thighs of the nylon suit trousers rubbing against each other. But if I was uncomfortable, it was nothing compared to how Aubrey was feeling.
“A skirt,” she muttered. “A bloody skirt. They have to be kidding.”