The Disappearances

by Gemma Malley

  Suddenly Thomas turned to Devil. ‘So,’ he said. ‘I’ve got this job for you.’

  The geek turned off the television and left the room.

  Devil looked at him steadily. ‘Whatever you want me to do, man.’

  ‘Good. And here’s some money to tide you over.’ Thomas took out an envelope and walked towards Devil, handing it to him. Devil flicked it; he knew how to count a bundle of notes by sight and weight.

  His eyes widened greedily. ‘A grand?’

  Thomas nodded. ‘Listen carefully, Devil. Here’s what I want you to do …’

  27

  Linus looked around, his eyes wide. This was most unexpected. This was … well, he’d have said impossible if he weren’t here, looking at it with his own eyes.

  He stepped towards the screen.

  ‘Do you have a question?’ it asked him, its voice silky and feminine, a voice that managed to be both sexy and disarming.

  Linus raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m not sure you’ll give me the answer,’ he said, under his breath.

  ‘Try me,’ the computer suggested.

  Linus shrugged. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘What are you?’

  ‘I am a G4 Benning 8 model with version 8.9 software and 1 million megabytes of memory,’ the computer said.

  Linus frowned. ‘That’s impossible,’ he said, his mind whirring as he tried to work out why the name Benning reminded him of something. ‘I’ve never heard of you. And I know computers. I know every computer that’s ever been conceived of, let alone invented.’

  ‘I would argue that on the contrary, what you are suggesting is impossible, since I exist and am talking to you,’ the computer said.

  ‘So you talk philosophy too?’ Linus asked it.

  ‘Philosophical thought, yes, but only as part of natural discourse,’ the computer said. ‘For more extensive philosophical discussion can I suggest you download the philosophy app from the Alpha website? I can download it now, if you’d like?’

  ‘No,’ Linus said quickly. ‘No, that won’t be necessary.’

  ‘You seem tense,’ the computer said then. ‘Would you like me to play some music? Or would you prefer a visual display? Perhaps of fields? Or do you prefer the sea?’ Several options appeared on the screen; Linus stared at them. Then he shook his head.

  ‘No, no images,’ he said firmly. ‘But tell me this. Where do you come from?’

  ‘Alpha Ltd, 11189 East Street, Sacramento, USA,’ the computer said.

  ‘And when were you built?’

  ‘2053. January. I was shipped in February. Top secret mission.’ It sounded proud of itself.

  Linus shook his head. ‘That’s impossible,’ he said again.

  ‘Not impossible,’ the computer said. ‘On the contrary, I could not have been built before this date as the latest chip technology was not introduced until 2052.’

  ‘But there is no USA,’ Linus breathed. ‘Not like there was.’

  ‘No,’ the computer said, ‘you’re …’ It hesitated. ‘Did you know that there is someone coming down the corridor towards this room on tip-toe in order to surprise you?’

  Linus raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re quite something,’ he said. ‘Just one person?’

  ‘Just the night security guard. And thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ Linus ducked down, moved towards the door.

  ‘No, you’re welcome,’ the computer said.

  ‘Okay, shut up now,’ Linus hissed; the screen went blank. Then he took a gun out of his pocket, checked it was loaded, and prepared himself.

  The door opened. Linus grabbed the guard, held the gun to his head and urged him to be quiet. Then, opening his bag, he took out some tape. Within minutes he had the guard strapped to a chair, tape over his mouth. He put him in front of the computer.

  ‘Now we’d like some sea,’ he said.

  ‘Of course,’ the computer said, immediately bringing up an image of a sunny beach, waves lapping on the sand.

  ‘One last thing,’ Linus said, then, checking that the guard was comfortable but secure. ‘The patient in the hospital wing. Stop his medication. And give him something to wake him up.’

  ‘That requires authorisation,’ the computer said. Linus walked over to the screen, brought up ‘Security’ and started to input code, searching for the information he needed. Eventually he smiled, typed in a password. ‘Now will you do it?’ he asked. ‘And will you unlock all the doors of the hospital too?’

  ‘It’s done,’ the computer purred.

  ‘Thanks,’ Linus said with a grin and walked towards the door. ‘Nice to meet you,’ he said, as he gave it one last look before ducking out into the corridor before the guard’s back-up arrived.

  28

  Lucas woke suddenly and looked around the room. It was sterile, white, with one small locked window overlooking a corridor. It had a cupboard, a sink, and over him was some kind of apparatus with tubes attached to the back of his hand.

  And he wasn’t dead.

  In fact, he felt very alive. Incredibly so: more energetic than he had for weeks, months.

  He jumped out of bed, pulling out the various tubes attached to him, wondering how he could have been lying there for so long. Everything was so silent that he guessed it must be night-time, even though it was impossible to tell with no windows. He edged towards the door, tried it and to his surprise, it opened easily. Outside his room was a corridor, dimly lit; again, there was silence, no sign of movement, of nurses, of guards, of Mr Weizman.

  He walked back into his room to search for anything that might be useful. He found his clothes, neatly folded in a cupboard, found a bottle of water and a bag. He took the lot, put them in the bag, put his shoes on, then left the room once more. He crept down the corridor, his slow steps gradually speeding up as he saw the door in front of him, the door that he presumed led out of this place. Then he stopped, hesitated, reached out and pulled the door just an inch. More lights. A landing, a staircase down and up. A window that told him he was higher than ground level. He took the stairs down, then stepped towards another door, a door which he knew led outside because of the glass panel that revealed a path, moonlight.

  He prepared himself mentally for a locked door. Told himself he would remain calm, figure something out. But when he reached out to the handle, it pulled open easily, just as the door to his room had done. Almost as if they wanted him to get out.

  Lucas hesitated. Was this a trap? He considered going back to the room, but only for a split second. A trap could be no worse than the prospect of death on that bed. Why trap him when they already had him? When they were planning to kill him?

  Silently, he slipped through the door, scanned the path and tents ahead of him, then, stealthily, he started to walk carefully towards the perimeter of the compound. It would be secure, of that he was certain, but there had to be a way through somehow, and whatever it was, he would find it. He had to.

  He had to get to Raffy; that had become overwhelmingly clear to him. Linus might believe he was safe, but Linus had thrown Lucas off a cliff; Linus had his own agenda and always would. Lucas’s agenda was to protect his brother. Just as it always had been.

  He remembered the day that Raffy was born like it was yesterday; remembered the wonderment he’d felt at this small, fragile creature with its shock of black hair, black eyes and creased face, apparently boneless, curled up, utterly dependent, its only armour a cry that pierced through every other sound and created the backdrop of the house for the next year. It had been their father who had presented Raffy to Lucas; their mother had been sleeping.

  ‘This is your brother,’ he’d said gravely to his five-year-old son. ‘He’s going to need you to look after him.’

  Lucas had taken him, gingerly, tenderly, had held his tiny body against his. In retrospect, Lucas suspected that their father had meant nothing by his words; had said them only to make Lucas feel part of Raffy’s life, to include him in his care. But Lucas had taken them seriously; as he stared
down at the tiny ball that was his brother, he solemnly promised to protect him always, to look after him as best as he possibly could.

  For the first few years of Raffy’s life, that had meant nothing more than watching out for him, teaching him the rules of the City, helping him up when he fell. But then, when Raffy was five and Lucas had just turned eleven, everything changed.

  The night his father had come to Lucas, waking him from a deep sleep to tell him to follow him, silently, to his study, was a night that Lucas would never forget. The look in his father’s eye – fear, determination – filled him, even now, with grief and longing for the man he loved so much; with anger and resolve to avenge his death. Because what his father had told him had changed everything, had marked the end of Lucas’s childhood. He had told Lucas that he had discovered things about the City, things that were terrible, things that were secret and safely guarded, things that were dangerous to know. He told Lucas that the labels were not governed by a desire for good, but by a desire for power; that he had been communicating with an old comrade outside the City who could help them.

  And from then on, Lucas had entered a different world, a world of secrets, of shadows, a world in which he could never again reveal his true feelings except in front of his father; a world in which he worked all day then worked again at night, learning from his father, learning everything his father had to impart.

  And then one day his father came to him, told him that something had happened, something that would be discovered soon, that his label would be changed to K, and he would disappear. He told his son that the whole family would face the same fate unless Lucas did exactly what he told him to do: betray him, tell the Brother that his father was a traitor before the Brother could discover what had happened. That way Lucas could lead the family, could protect them all. That way, Lucas could continue his father’s work, continue to communicate with his comrade. That way, the City had a chance.

  Lucas had opened his mouth to protest, to say that he would never betray his father, never let anything bad happen to him, but he had closed it again, because he knew even then that there was no use. He had already worked through the implications, the possibilities, the various outcomes in his mind, and he knew that he had no choice.

  ‘You must never reveal the truth until the time has come,’ his father had said. ‘You must never tell Raffy. He will hate you for betraying me, and you will have to live with that. Can you live with that, my son?’

  And Lucas had nodded.

  ‘Good,’ his father had said then, relief washing over his face, relief tinged with pride and love, which gave Lucas the strength not to cry. ‘Then let’s make some coffee one last time.’

  An hour later, when Lucas had alerted the City police to suspicious activity in his house, his father had been taken away and Lucas had become the protector not just of his brother but also of his father’s legacy, of everything he had fought for.

  He stopped, caught his breath. In front of him now was a wall; he ducked down, knowing that it would be watched. He could see a gate to his right; could he get through? Maybe if he waited for someone to come in, some vehicle … But he could wait all night, could wait for a week.

  He picked up a rock, threw it at the gate to see what happened. There was a resounding clank, then a torchlight shining. He shrank back.

  ‘Careful. You might have hit someone.’

  Lucas’s head swung up at the sound of a familiar voice. ‘Linus?’ Lucas stared at the figure approaching him in disbelief. ‘You’re here? How? Why didn’t you come and get me?’

  ‘No need,’ Linus said with a shrug. ‘But I wouldn’t try and leave through the gate. Go through that and you’re toast. Quite literally I’m afraid.’

  Lucas looked at the gate warily.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I think.’

  ‘No problem,’ Linus said. ‘This way.’

  29

  Lucas considered berating Linus for what he’d done, but found that he couldn’t really be bothered. Instead, they left the compound quietly through a small pedestrian gate to which Linus appeared to have the code, then drove all night; for once, Lucas didn’t feel sick; instead he could marvel at the world as they sped past and listen to Linus as he filled him in on the Settlement where Raffy and Evie were living. And strangely his stomach didn’t flip-flop when he heard her name; strangely, he just found himself smiling at the thought of seeing her again.

  ‘I feel amazing,’ he said, turning to Linus, his eyes shining.

  Linus grinned. ‘That computer had some pretty great drugs,’ he said wryly then, seeing Lucas’s expression, and laughed. ‘They had you doped up, so I got the computer to stop the meds and give you something to perk you up a bit. Turns out she did exactly what I asked. Won’t last long, so enjoy it.’

  ‘She?’ Lucas looked at Linus curiously.

  ‘Oh yeah,’ Linus said, his voice deadpan. ‘It had a lovely voice, actually. I think we could have hit it off. In different circumstances.’

  The car slowed down then pulled into a set of caves. Lucas looked around. ‘Where are we?’ he asked.

  ‘North,’ Linus said. The North Pennines. At least that’s what it used to be called. Nice place for walking. And lots of caves.’

  ‘So I see,’ Lucas said as Linus turned off the engine and they were plunged into darkness. ‘You’ve got this all figured out, haven’t you?’

  Linus took out a torch, turned it on, and shot Lucas a grin. ‘Something like that,’ he winked. ‘So the Settlement is about an hour’s walk from here,’ he said, opening the car door. ‘You going to be okay?’

  ‘I’m going to be just fine,’ Lucas said firmly, and jumped out of the car, then followed Linus out into the darkness.

  Mr Weizman stared at the computer screen. His boss was on it, looking very angry, very angry indeed.

  ‘Let me get this straight. You had him? He was in the compound and he got away?’

  Mr Weizman nodded. He’d already explained many, many times, that there had been no sign the prisoner had been from the City, that there had been no indication that he’d been with someone, that he had been found outside the perimeter wall with a gash to the head and brought in as a precautionary measure, that once his status as ‘of no use’ had been established, Weizman had given the order to terminate him. The escape, the partner, the man who had got in to the mainframe … there had been no indication. No warning.

  He had personally gone over what had happened several times, and had fired two people. But that didn’t help him now.

  The man sitting at the computer let out a long sigh, then he shook his head wearily.

  ‘You’re making things much harder for me,’ he said. ‘You know, I try and trust other people to do things and they never get it right, never.’ Then he sighed. ‘Fortunately I am a few steps ahead of you. And them. Fortunately I know where they are going, and I am ready for them. But you are to take this as a formal warning. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Mr Weizman said.

  His boss turned back as if surprised to see him still on his screen. ‘Yeah, I’m done with you,’ he said curtly and the screen went blank.

  Slowly, Mr Weizman turned and left the room and decided that he needed a drink.

  30

  The Brother walked slowly up to the front of the Meeting House, the home to Gatherings, to the weekly sermons that had always kept the City’s people enthralled, towing the line, and as he walked he enjoyed the looks, stares and murmurs as he passed his flock. Because they were his flock, had always been his flock. He had spent a year in the wilderness, his wings clipped, having to pretend to have seen the error of his ways, having to pretend to be grateful to Lucas.

  Grateful? He despised Lucas. Loathed him more than he had loathed anyone in his life. Lucas was a traitor, a manipulative, secretive traitor who had become … The Brother shook his head in disgust. He couldn’t even describe what Lucas had become. Lucas, who had appeared to be so strong, so uncompromising,
had been a pathetic, snivelling ideologist all this time. Just like his father.

  Still, he was gone now. And if he ever tried to return, he would regret it. Not for long, though, he wouldn’t survive in the City for more than a day. Not by the time the Brother had finished with him.

  He stopped briefly outside the Meeting House, looking up at it with pleasure, with relief at being back. Gatherings had been one of his favourite aspects of the City he had helped to mould. A weekly meeting, they had offered him a platform, a chance to remind everyone how lucky they were, how important it was to guard against the evil that flourished so readily, given half a chance. Everyone had sat according to their label, the most public forum for label watching that the City could offer. And the Brother had loved it; loved the contempt on the look of the faces of the A’s as they regarded the sorry clump of D’s, loved the way the B’s held their heads high while casting envious glances in the direction of the A’s, and then there were the C’s, clinging on to respectability, so fearful of becoming a D that they could barely look at them lest they be tarnished immediately. Divide and conquer – wasn’t that the phrase? And it was so true. So wonderfully, beautifully true and simple.

  Having their place in life set out for them, that’s what people wanted, not Lucas with his pathetic attempts to let them choose for themselves. Fortunately Lucas hadn’t had the stomach to lead the City; fortunately he had failed so miserably that the Brother had been more than able to pick up the pieces as soon as he’d gone.

  The truth was that leadership wasn’t easy, the Brother knew that all too well. It took sacrifice, time, effort. It meant constantly being on your guard, constantly looking for danger, constantly working out new ways to manipulate, cajole, fire up and quietly threaten. People were like sheep, the Brother had learnt that many years ago. They liked to be led. But if you didn’t lead vigorously, if you didn’t keep absolute control, another sheep might break out from the group and, mindlessly, others would start to follow.