Gavin Smith - The Age of Scorpio

‘What?’ she asked.

He could hear her nervousness. Most of the rest of what had happened today had happened suddenly. Her system had been flooded with adrenaline, which her new augments would know how to use very efficiently if they were anything like his. But this walk into the tunnel was giving her a chance to think. Getting her scared. Giving her mind a chance to trip her up.

‘Malcolm?’ Nobody called him Malcolm except his sister.

‘Turn back. We need to get out of here right now.’

‘What? But—’

‘Now!’ They turned and sprinted back to the storeroom and then back out into the lock-up.

‘What’s going on?’ Beth demanded.

‘I think the tunnel was booby-trapped.’

‘You think?’

‘Would you prefer it if we were down there when it went off?’

‘What about Talia?’

It wasn’t so much that Beth was wearing him down – she had acquitted herself well, much better than most – it was more the day itself. It had been pretty intense, particularly for an operation on mainland Britain.

‘I just thought, perhaps unreasonably, that looking for your sister WOULD BE EASIER WITHOUT THOUSANDS OF TONNES OF RUBBLE ON TOP OF US!’ he screamed, finally losing it. Beth held her ground and looked like she was about to shout back. Du Bois was trying to work out how unprofessional it would be to have a cigarette. Meanwhile, he searched through the available information on the Solent Sub-Aqua Exploration Club via the liquid memory of his neuralware.

The tunnel blew. The door to the storeroom blew off its hinges; the collapsing tunnel squirted rubble out into the lock-up. Beth and du Bois were covered in dust.

‘Andrew Coulson, a member of the diving club and a demolition engineer,’ du Bois said, though he couldn’t really see Beth through the thick cloud of dust.

‘Did they have any lorry or bus drivers in the club?’ Beth asked. Du Bois thought she sounded a little sheepish.

‘Helen Smith, another member, had a full HGV licence, and Brian Wilcox was a retired bus driver.’

‘Maybe we should get out of here?’ Beth said.

‘What an excellent idea.’

They walked back to the Range Rover.

‘Do you know where they were going?’

‘I have some ideas. McGurk said that Matthew Bryant, the one you fought, was found in a cellar in a house close to the front. If there’s enough left of McGurk I’ll ask him which house.’ Beth looked at him sceptically. ‘I don’t know who or whatever they are, but they have their own access to S-tech.’

‘S-tech?’ Beth asked.

‘I’ll explain later.’ Or more likely it won’t matter, because you’ll be on a Circle operating table being vivisected, your nanites harvested , he thought bitterly, knowing she really didn’t deserve that. ‘But basically, seeding the local vermin didn’t work. And there’s a city in the way of accurate satellite thermographics, and that’s assuming they can’t counter thermographics anyway, which seems unlikely.’

Beth was staring at him blankly. ‘Are you just a madman?’

‘I’m not. Sorry.’

She watched an idea dawn on his face and raised an eyebrow.

‘When I spoke to Bryant’s wife, she seemed to be hiding something, or holding something back,’ he said.

They climbed back into the Range Rover as he instantly recalled Bryant’s wife’s address from his memory.

Down the hill through Cosham, onto the Southampton Road, under the motorway, Port Solent Marina and then Portsmouth Harbour proper on their left-hand side. Across the harbour they could see the grey stones of Portchester Castle. Beth noted that du Bois was driving less like a psycho now. Admittedly the roads were busy but she knew it meant less urgency. Less urgency meant less hope.

Du Bois turned the battered four-by-four, which was getting some stares – particularly as it was missing a door – into Castle Street. Beth noticed the nice houses down by the castle. She couldn’t even begin to imagine living here or what that world was like. It was more alien to her, almost, than the madness of the last few days.

The air was full of the sounds of sirens. There were now several helicopters in the air. She could see one close to the Spinnaker Tower at Gun Wharf. She guessed that was over the scene of the gunfight in Old Portsmouth. The others were to the west over the carnage on the motorway.

Some kids pointed at the Range Rover as they drove by. Beth stared back because she was too numb to think about turning away.

Everything about the house looked nicely suburban. Beth tried to suppress her contempt. She knew this was based on envy. Right now she would have given anything to live there and be oblivious to the madness that hid under the surface of the real world.

There was an estate agent’s For Sale sign stuck in the lawn with a big Sold sticker across it. The house looked empty. Du Bois didn’t curse, he just seemed to sag in the driving seat. Then the door opened. The woman coming out looked like she had been attractive when she was younger and had tried to hold on to her looks by using too much make-up and hair dye. She glanced at the Range Rover and put the box she was carrying into the back of a Volvo estate. She glanced at them again and headed back to the house.

Du Bois concentrated momentarily.

‘That’s her.’ He got out of the car and walked towards her. ‘Anna Bryant?’ She turned and stared at him. Apparently she didn’t like what she saw and backed towards the house. Beth got out of the jeep as well. ‘Mrs Bryant, I know we look a sight – it’s been a pretty rough day – but my name is Malcolm du Bois and I’m with Special Branch. We spoke over the phone.’ He reached inside his torn and battered leather coat and pulled out his warrant card and held it up for her. She stopped but still looked like she might bolt at any moment.

‘Is this to do with that?’ she inclined her head towards the noise of the sirens.

‘I’m afraid so. Can we talk in the house?’

She looked terrified but swallowed hard and then nodded. She must have worked out that it was something to do with her husband. Suddenly Beth felt absurdly guilty for the part she had played in his death.

‘I’m afraid I can’t offer you tea or coffee. We’re moving…’ she said, embracing platitudes to put off a difficult situation just a little longer. Du Bois assured her that was fine with a degree of impatience in his voice. ‘Why wouldn’t they let me identify his body?’ she suddenly demanded.

‘A possible biohazard issue,’ du Bois lied smoothly. It was the official cover story so the lie came easily. Mrs Bryant looked stricken. ‘When we spoke on the phone I was sure that you were holding something back. We need to know what that is, and we need to know now, I’m afraid.’ She had started shaking her head before he had finished talking.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ The lie and guilt were obvious.

Du Bois looked angry. Even so, Beth was shocked when a knife appeared in his hand and he rammed Anna Bryant back into the wall, putting the blade up against her throat.

‘Look we don’t have—’

Du Bois was astonished when Beth grabbed him by the back of his coat, spun him round and slammed him into the door frame so hard he fell to the floor.

Beth stood over him. ‘What the fuck?’ she demanded. Du Bois looked apoplectic. ‘Not everything’s about bloody murder! Do you understand me?! Now you fucking stay down there and think about what you’ve done!’ she continued before turning to the terrified Mrs Bryant.

Beth managed to calm her down and get the story from her. After she had reported him missing, after they had waited the requisite amount of time, after she had had him legally declared dead, she had seen him in the street, but he had looked odd. She had been too frightened to report it because it would have meant losing the insurance money and calling into question the house sale. She had not said anything because she assumed that he had abandoned her and the children.