Bernard Beckett: Genesis

A: Oh my God, look, it’s a girl. It’s just a little girl. Where the hell has that come from?

Both of them stared at the screen. The boat was indeed tiny. It was difficult to believe it could have made the journey from the nearest land. Adam saw her eyes. That’s the way he explained it to the court. Huge and frightened, staring un- comprehendingly at the great metal barrier rearing up out of the ocean. The makeshift triangular sail of her small craft was tattered and useless. The boat bobbed dangerously close to the floating explosives.

J: [Voice shaking] Man, please, get out of here. I don’t want to have to shoot you.

A: Joseph, there’s something I should have told you.

J: What?

A: I’ve never done this before,

J: But I’ve seen your file.

A: I got it changed,

J: How?

A: It’s best you don’t know that,

J: Okay, so this is your first. Don’t worry. It’s not too hard. It’s just like training. Once you’ve got the target locked on, you don’t even have to watch it.

A: I don’t think I can.

J: I don’t think you have a choice.

A: Shes just a girl,

J: I will shoot you if I have to.

A: Let me watch,

J: What are you talking about?

A: You go. I’ll watch. I can’t explain, I just think it’ll be easier that way If I watch this one then I’ll be able to do the next one. I know I will. Come on, you know it’s got to be easier than shooting me.

Joseph agreed. Easier to shoot the stranger, half-dead anyway and possibly carrying the plague, than shoot his colleague in cold blood there in that little room. And that was the only option. Adam knew this. He told the court he knew this is how it would happen. Much was made, in the media, of his cold-blooded calculations.

EXAMINER: Is that what you think? Do you think it was cold blooded?

At last, a question Anaximander could answer fully. This was her area of expertise.

ANAXIMANDER: There are two ways of interpreting what hap - pened next, although Adam himself insisted that the version he gave at the time of his arrest is all there is to know.

He sat in the watchtower, and trained his sights on the shooting site, as per the manual. He watched Joseph arrive at the laser gun and line up the small vessel. He had never seen a kill before and while a part of him wanted to look away, he could not deny the grisly fascination. He watched Joseph closely, observed the entering of the security code and the arming of the laser. And then, following procedure, Adam checked the viewing screen, to ensure the inhabitants of the craft posed no immediate danger to his colleague. And so again he looked into her eyes, and this time he couldn’t look away. She was sixteen years old, only a year younger than he was, but aged by three months at sea; out of food and water, thin and close to death.

Adam zoomed in on her face. Surveillance records confirm this. He saw her expression; confused, uncomprehending, only dimly taking in the great barrier, the fatal end of her journey.

Adam said it came to him as a flash, a realization. He told the authorities that he did not make the decision to fire, but rather heard the report of his gun echo through the small room. He looked to the laser mount, and saw his colleague slumped forward, a burn hole in the back of his head.

Immediately a message from control crackled through. By this time Adam was panicking.

“Gunshot recorded. Please report. Please report.”

“This is Adam. Joseph is dispatched. We have a small vessel at the fence. There’s a girl on board. Joseph hesitated, Sir.”

“You’re sure it’s a single passenger?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You need to finish this, Adam.”

“I know, Sir.”

“Report back when it is done. We’ll send in a substitute. Congratulations, Adam. The Republic thanks you.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Adam knew time was against him. They would be waiting for the laser discharge.

He raced past his fallen colleague and scrambled down the narrow track toward the ocean. He could see the small boat, adrift and in danger of bumping against a mine. Adam waved to get the girl’s attention. He had no idea if she could hear him or even if they spoke the same language.

“Can you swim?” he called. “Can you swim?”

She looked at him, but said nothing. She was too distant for him to make out the expression on her face.

He called again. “You have to get out of the boat. Swim that way. Swim north!” He pointed. “I’ll come and meet you, farther along. There’s a place where I can get you through. A small gate. Wait at the gate. Whatever you do, don’t touch the buoys. Can you understand me? I have to destroy your boat. Please, wave if you understand me.”

He watched, waiting desperately for a response. Nothing. He waved again. She waved back, a small ambiguous gesture. Hoping against hope that she had heard him, Adam clambered back to the shooting station. The laser was still armed. He pushed Joseph aside and checked the sight. He could no longer see the girl. Had she understood his instructions, or simply slumped forward in exhaustion? There was no way of telling. He fired, and watched the hiss of steam and bubbling of water as the small craft was vaporized.

Adam called the watchtower. The communication was somber; his voice was shaking. “This is Adam, watchtower 621N. Task complete. Vessel destroyed.”

“Congratulations, Adam. The substitute will be there in ten minutes. Stay where you are. We will deal with the body.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

But Adam didn’t stay where he was. All along the sea fence there were small service gates. They worked off a remote locking device and theoretically could only be opened with simultaneously entered codes: one from the service technician on the site, the other from the central control at defense headquarters.

Adam knew the system could be overridden, although at first he insisted it was simply a case of a malfunctioning gate. There has been much controversy about how he got this information, but it is worth remembering that Adam was curious and clever, and I do not find it difficult to believe that he picked up information during his training that would not come the way of a normal Soldier.

Others have noted Adam’s popularity with women, and in a society where all relationships were to be conducted covertly, it is entirely possible that he came by his information in this way. Most fancifully, some historians have noted that Rebekah, his friend from wrestling, went on to become an expert in electronic security. Some have speculated that the two may have stayed in touch, although no evidence of this ever emerged.

Whatever the method, Adam was able to open the service gate. He ran along the rocky shore, and swam out to the fence. This was by no means a simple task. Even though the sea was unusually calm that day, the gates were placed on the most inaccessible stretches of the fence-line.

Adam said that at first he thought he was too late. The girl was clinging to the other side of the fence, but she had sunk into the water and her head was down. He told us about the moment she looked up, their eyes meeting through the mesh. He described dragging her through the gate and swimming her back to the shoreline. She didn’t speak, but now — as a result of her not being in the boat — he knew she understood him.

He took her to a small cave in the base of a cliff, where she could be safely hidden. He gave her a ration bar from his belt and promised to return. She leaned back against the stones, and before she closed her eyes, she smiled her thanks to him. Or at least, this is how he told it.

The substitute found him in the shooting nest, soaked to the skin, slumped over his dead friend, howling. The substitute, whose name was Nathaniel, was a goodhearted man nearing the end of his service years. He assumed the young guard had broken under the strain of carrying out his orders, and agreed to keep what he had seen to himself. Adam thanked him and continued the shift.