Peter James: Perfect People

‘And you wonder why?’ John said. ‘You’re using child labour and genetic engineering and it surprises you that people are against you?’

Dettore pointed up at the sky. ‘There are satellites up there, photographing every inch of our planet, every hour, John and Naomi. American, Russian, Chinese and other nations, also. They’re looking for anything out of the norm, new structures, people in places that were once unoccupied. Everything gets logged, examined, questioned.’

‘Is that why your entire transportation system is underground?’ John asked.

‘Of course. We’re invisible here and we intend to remain that way until it is no longer necessary.’

‘Which will be when?’ said Naomi.

‘When the world is ready.’

‘For what?’ she demanded.

‘For the kind of wisdom and humanity we’re developing here. None of the kids here will grow up to be the kind of man who will put a bomb full of nails in a crowded London pub. Or Semtex in a car in a street market full of women and children. Do you both want to allow this mayhem of so-called civilization to go on and on and on, for ever? The world has lurched from the clutches of one fanatic or despot to another. Nero, Attila the Hun, Napoleon, Stalin, Hitler, Hirohito, Mao Tse Tung, Pol Pot, Saddam Hussein, Milosevic, Bin Laden, Mugabe. Where is it going to end? In some big party with balloons and crackers and everyone shaking hands and saying, Look, OK, guys, sorry, we’ve had a lousy few thousand years, let’s all be friends now so our kids can have a nice future? I don’t think so.’

‘Who’s financing all this, Dr Dettore?’ John asked, unmoved.

Without slowing his pace, he answered, ‘Concerned people. Philanthropists around the globe who don’t want to see civilization fall back into the hands of religious fanaticism and despots, the way it was in the dark ages. Who want to secure a future for humankind based on solid science.’

‘I want to know something,’ Naomi said. ‘Why, when we came to you wanting a boy, did you deceive us and give us twins?’

Dettore stopped and faced them. ‘Because you would never have understood. Simple as that.’

‘Understood what?’ John said.

He looked at each of them in turn. ‘Your child would have been lonely without someone to share his superior intellect with. He would have felt like a freak among other kids. By having two, they were able to bond and see the world clearly, in perspective.’

‘Don’t you think that should have been our decision?’ Naomi said.

‘I didn’t feel you were ready to understand,’ he replied.

John felt his anger rising. ‘That is an incredibly arrogant thing to say.’

Dettore shrugged. ‘The truth is often hard to accept.’

‘I can’t believe what I’m hearing. We agreed – you, Naomi and I – a list of enhancements for our child. How much more did you add that you never told us about?’

‘Important things that I felt you were overlooking.’

‘And what the hell gave you the right to do that?’ Naomi said, her voice rising.

‘Let’s go back to my office,’ Dettore said. ‘You look hot and uncomfortable. You guys need a shower and a change of clothes, and some food and some rest. You’ve had a long journey and you’re tired. Let’s get you freshened up and rested, and we’ll talk more.’

‘I don’t need to freshen up,’ Naomi said. ‘I don’t want to rest. I want to get on a plane back home with my children. That’s all I need. Don’t tell me what I need.’

Dettore’s expression hardened. ‘There are a load of smart people here, Naomi. All of us with one common interest: the future of the human species.’ He turned to John, then Naomi again, to include both of them. ‘We have three Nobel Prize-winning scientists and eight McArthur Award-winners here. And twenty-eight scientists who have been put forward for Nobel Prizes. I’m telling you this because I don’t want you to think I’m just a lone charlatan working in the dark here, or some kind of lone crazy voice in the scientific wilderness.’

‘You’re entitled to whatever vision you want, Dr Dettore,’ Naomi said. ‘But you are not entitled to abduct children and turn them against their parents.’

‘Then, for the moment, we’ll have to agree to disagree.’ He smiled, and walked on.

John followed him, angry at Dettore, angry at himself for feeling so damned helpless and useless here, his brain churning. Then he heard a thud.

He looked up. For an instant he thought part of the back of Dettore’s head had been blown off; something fell away from it, taking a chunk of hair and skin with it. A lump of rock, he realized, turning for an instant in horror to Naomi, who was standing, her arms outstretched, with an expression of grim satisfaction on her face.

Then he turned back to Dettore, who sagged onto his knees, almost in slow motion, then fell headlong forward and lay still. For an instant the exposed patch on his head looked pale grey, like cracked slate, then blood rapidly began covering it over and spreading into the hair beyond.

Naomi bolted, sprinting back down the path. The fading slap of her shoes, the drumming of his own heart and the roar of panic in John’s ears were the only sounds.

John ran over to Dettore and knelt beside him. He stared at the blood spreading across the collar and shoulders of Dettore’s jumpsuit. Panic spread deeper through him.

He scrambled to his feet and ran after her. When he was a few steps behind, he called out, ‘Naomi! Stop! Stop! Where are you going?’

‘To get my children,’ she said without turning her head.

He grabbed her arm and jerked her to a halt. ‘Naomi! Hon!’

She stared at him with eyes that were barely focusing. She was shaking, hysterical. ‘Let me go!’

‘You might have killed him.’

‘I’ll kill you, too,’ she said. ‘I’ll kill anyone who tries to stop me taking my children home.’

John looked over his shoulder at the distant, motionless figure. Then up at the windows of the buildings all around. Any moment doors would open and people would be running towards them. They had to get out of sight, that was their first priority. Beyond that, he had no thoughts, no ideas, no plan. All his instincts told him that Dettore had been their one lifeline here. This wasn’t about taking their children home any more. It was about trying to survive.

Frantically, he looked around, trying to get his bearings. He stared at the red-brick structure that he thought Dettore had said, just a few minutes before, housed the Department of Astrophysics. Then at another housing the Library and General Research Facility. As his eyes roamed from building to building, he simply had no idea which was the one they’d seen Luke and Phoebe in – it could have been any of two dozen different ones. A voice inside his head screamed:

Get inside! Got to get inside! Out of the open! Under cover!

Shelter!

Hide!

The Department of Astrophysics was the nearest. Holding Naomi’s hand, he dragged her, half running, half stumbling towards it.

Where the hell’s the door?

They ran along the front of the building, past huge darkened-glass windows, past flower beds and a pond, and around the side. A small glass door in front of them was marked FIRE EXIT ONLY. He tried to pull it open, but could get no purchase; there was no handle on the outside, no gap big enough to get his fingers inside.

‘Are they in here?’ Naomi said. ‘Is this where Luke and Phoebe are?’

‘Maybe. We’ll start here.’

She was sobbing. ‘John, I want my children. I want Luke and Phoebe.’

‘We’ll find them.’ He dragged her further along and round to the far side, and realized this must be the main entrance. Ahead of them two children, a boy and a girl of about six, walking hand-in-hand in their white outfits, skipped up some steps then carried on straight towards a window in the centre of the building. When they were a couple of yards from it, a section of the glass rose, then dropped seamlessly behind them after they had entered.