Rifter (The Survival Project Duology Book 1) (4 page)

“I assume you ran,” she said. Leo smirked. “Proceeded sounds like you took your time.”

“Yes, Ma’am, we ran.”

“Then, say ran. Fewer words, better efficiency.”

If only she’d shut up.

“We arrived at 12.56 and, shortly after, secured the location.”

“We?”

“Francis, Ma’am.”

“Yes, I heard you abandoned him. Poor show, McNaught.”

“Ma’am.”

After he had left, Atwood had sorted out security guards. Then the forensic team had been called in. They’d cordoned the space off with their own regulation tape and done a painstaking search of the ground around the disruption, trying to find evidence of anyone coming through. It had proved to be inconclusive, but there were still people there, searching a wider area. Wasn’t the tape that had been there already proof enough? No, not for Debra.

“How many guards?”

“Three, Ma’am. Six hour shifts. Twenty-four-hour cover.”

Debra flicked at the ever-present pen that seemed glued to her hand, so that it tapped against the surface of the desk.

“So, either they’ll forgo returning, or we’ll catch them?”

“That’s the plan, Ma’am.”

The plan was pretty similar to the one where she’d caught him. The memory of it was not something he liked to dwell upon.

“Good. The guards only have stun darts?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Her steely gaze left him and directed itself at Atwood. His partner shuffled on his feet, waiting for her requirements to be expressed.

“Francis, give me your perspective. This was your first sight of one, right?”

Atwood took a step forward, “Yes, Ma’am. What would you like to know?”

She allowed him a little scope. She didn’t usually expect to give instructions on what she wanted to know. You were supposed to understand what was important, and what wasn’t.

“Anything. Everything. What did you see that McNaught might have missed?”

He and Leo exchanged a furtive glance. The implication wasn’t lost on either of them. She’d never liked Leo. She accepted he was a necessity, but she considered him a liability. She was always trying to catch him out. To find out if he’d lied, even about the simplest of things. It was probably what she was trying to do at that moment.

“The site is in the open, but away from any designated pathways. That means it’s in clear view of the general public. All those in the vicinity when we got there were interviewed, but no one saw anything. We have their details if further enquiries are required. We’re in the process of monitoring CCTV for any other potential witnesses and, of course, for the traveller.”

She shook her head. “No one saw anything?”

“No, Ma’am.”

She sighed. “People can be very single-minded when they’re eating. It doesn’t surprise me.”

Leo had expected her to say they were all liars with the backbone of a worm. She was obviously in a good mood.

“No, Ma’am,” said Atwood.

“Tell me about the anomaly. What are your impressions of that?”

“The anomaly covers a diameter of about fifteen feet.”

She raised her eyebrows. “That’s bigger than the other three isn’t it?”

Leo nodded. “Yes, although two of those were only estimated from the CCTV footage, so they could be a little out. We wondered if it might be a safety precaution, but it’s probably not. There’s no way to tell. It’s possible their technology has moved on.”

“I was asking Francis. Not you. It’s stable?”

“Seems so,” said Atwood. “There have been no excessive fluctuations on the monitoring equipment.” The monitoring equipment consisted of two scanners that measured energy pulses. Crude and unreliable in Leo’s opinion.

“And what about the human monitoring equipment?” Atwood hesitated a moment. She shook her head again. “As soon as you get out of here, you make sure the guards know to call if anything changes. Anything at all. We don’t rely on computers here.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good.” She turned back toward Leo. “How likely are they to want to return early?”

Leo shrugged. “It depends how quickly they find out what they want to know. We haven’t had anyone land since me. And—”

“Have we stationed anyone near the libraries?”

“I don’t think—”

“What you think is not as important as you might imagine. Get someone outside every library in the central area. Give them full descriptions from the files.”

The files, where he had written detailed descriptions of everyone who had trained with him as a rifter, apart from one. Height, colour of hair, eyes and skin. It was a lot of information to assimilate if you were looking for someone in a crowd. The artist’s impressions were good, but nothing like a photograph.

“Isn’t that a little like a needle in a haystack, Ma’am?” said Atwood, “Hundreds of people visit the libraries each day. With so many suspects it’ll be difficult for anyone to recognise one single person.”

And Atwood had voiced it, so he didn’t have to.

“The whole thing’s that. We have a city of more than eight million people. One extra is unlikely to stand out, but we have to try.”

“Ma’am, I’m not sure they’ll use the libraries,” said Leo.

“And why is that? That’s what you were told to do. Surely, that’s the easiest way to find out what they want?”

Leo sucked in a breath. He felt a bead of sweat forming on the back of his neck. “Because I think they might decide to research on the Internet. It’s better than trawling round libraries for hours. It’s so freely available here.”

Debra leaned forward and clasped her hands together.

“Yes, but they don’t know our systems, do they? Even if you’re right, I still want people at the libraries. Anything central with a reference section. Anyone looking at all suspicious is to be questioned.” Leo tried not to smirk. What counted for suspicious in a library was anyone’s guess. Reading too much? Too little? Being too noisy?

“Yes, Ma’am. Anything else?”

Debra’s secretary knocked on the door and walked in with a piece of paper, a note written on it. Debra read it and nodded.

“It’s for you,” she said, handing him the note. “Your girlfriend has been attacked.” Leo started. A lump formed in his throat. His hands began to shake as he took the note.

As soon as they were dismissed, before he’d even got back to his desk, Leo called Mayra on her mobile.

“Hey, how are you? What happened?” he asked.

“Leo?” Mayra’s voice was thready, and quiet, as if she didn’t want to be overheard. Hospital beds didn’t offer much privacy. “Can you come down here and take me home?”

If he’d been in hospital, that’s exactly what he would’ve been saying. He had a particular aversion to the smell of antiseptic. He glanced round to see if anyone was listening and kept his mouth pressed close to the phone so that he didn’t have to raise his voice.

“The note said you were attacked. What happened? Are you okay? Did they break anything?”

“Yes, I know. Can you believe it?” He clutched his phone so tightly that the casing creaked under the pressure. “They think I was attacked with a taser, or something similar. Knocked me out cold. What kind of person does that? It wasn’t a big shock. I’m just a bit weak. There’s no permanent damage. I need rest, but nothing else. I can do that at home. I could stay at yours. You could nurse me better.”

Leo almost couldn’t breathe. He forced himself to reply.

“But still, we don’t know for sure. There might be aftereffects. You should let the doctors monitor you overnight.”

Mayra sighed, as if she’d heard it all before.

“Have you been speaking to the doctors?” she said.

He smiled, but didn’t let it alter his voice.

“No. They said the same, I assume?”

“Yes, of course, they did. Everyone’s always too sensible in hospitals. They don’t like to take risks. Did I ever tell you how much I hate hospitals?”

“Honey, it’s much better if you take their advice. They know what they’re talking about. We don’t want to have to take you back into A&E because you’re not well in the middle of the night.”

There was a pause that seemed to drag out much longer than the four seconds his phone indicated.

“But there’s something I need to tell you.”

“I’ll try to get down there for a visit this evening,” he added.

“You will? You’re not working?”

“I said I’d try.”

He heard her tut in the background.

“Oh, all right. One night and then I’m discharging myself in the morning, whatever they say.”

“Love you lots.”

He hung up before she had a chance to respond. He felt meaner about it than he thought he would. He knew there was always the possibility that she’d discharge herself anyway and get a taxi to the flat, but he’d have to take that risk.

He needed to be at home, and he needed to be ready. If he’d judged the situation correctly and wasn’t simply being completely delusional, he could expect a visit. The attack had been to get information about him. It was not a simple mugging. The so-called taser told him that.

He realised he hadn’t asked Mayra if anything had been taken, and she hadn’t said anything about her attacker. Perhaps, she was confused. Or that had been what she wanted to talk about.

He didn’t think the rifter, Mara, he hoped, would risk coming to the office, because of what it was and the danger that brought with it. It was obvious from the signage outside what they did. But she would have his home address now, and if he knew her as well as he thought he did, she would use it.

When he got back to their office, Atwood was already there. Leo put on his most pained and pathetic expression.

“Atwood, do you mind if I leave? I know there’s all the paperwork, but—”

“You want to go to the hospital?” Leo inclined his head slightly and shrugged. Atwood smiled. “Go. I’ll stay here as long as needs be. You should be with her. She’s more important than any of this.”

Yes,
she
was.

They brushed clenched knuckles against each other. Conscientious, kind, the man he worked with was damned near perfect.

“Thanks. I’ll owe you one.”

“No need. I’m on a high just having seen an anomaly. I still can’t believe you came through one of those.”

“No, me neither. It seems so long ago.”

Eight years.

It was too long.

Five

Mara walked slowly along the banks of the river, enjoying the breeze coming off the saltwater on the ebbing tide. It was more bearable than the hot-baked streets she’d been on earlier. She wasn’t used to the strength of heat generated by a sun not shielded by dense cloud, and walking in it had exhausted her after only a short distance.

But she couldn’t stop. If she wasted any time at all, she was in danger of running into Leo at his flat, and that was not part of her hastily-put-together plan.

After asking several people who had no clue as to where the address she’d obtained for him was, she’d finally found someone who really was local to the area. He’d been able to tell her that Leo lived in a building that looked out across the river and that it wasn’t far, only about forty-five minutes to walk. As long as she followed the river’s course, she would get there.

She didn’t mind slowing down, though. When you’d been deprived of being outside, of ever enjoying what it had to offer, and you went to somewhere where that wasn’t an issue, it was only natural to want to take advantage of it. She would never admit it to anyone else, but she often dreamed of what it would be like to be able to use any of the Earth’s resources without having to worry about what effect it was having. This might be her one and only opportunity to experience that kind of freedom. It was against everything she believed in deep down. She knew she was a hypocrite for even thinking it. She could hear the little voice in her head telling her that her decision to do one decadent thing might change the whole fortune of this world. She might cause the one cumulative effect that tipped the balance. It had been drummed into them since they were very young that what every single person did made a difference to the future. But what you should do and what you wanted to do, they were never meant to be the same.

It was so tempting.

But she couldn’t partake of any of it, because she hadn’t yet stopped to get any money.

She couldn’t even get anything to eat.

She ran her tongue across her lips savouring the imagined taste of the bar of something, possibly chocolate, that a man who passed in the other direction was eating. Chocolate. She’d had it only a few times, as a special treat on her birthday as a child. It was so sweet that she’d only been able to stomach a small square at a time and her mother had broken her off a piece every day for over a week, but everybody seemed to be eating it here and no one was savouring it like she had. They were eating it so quickly they could hardly have tasted its rich sweetness, or have noticed the way it melted in their mouths and coated their tongues. And they had to have stomachs of iron.