Resurface

by Tony Batton

  Reems gave a nod. The two guards walked over and gripped Bern's arms.

  "I'm going back to my office," Reems said. "And you are going back to your tiny room with the tiny window."

  Four

  CERUS TOWER STOOD ELEVEN-HUNDRED feet, and ninety stories high, but while it still glittered in the spotlights surrounding it, the organisation that gave it its name was now more than a little tarnished. CERUS Biotech had seen many changes in the twelve months since Bern's arrest. There was a new CEO, a new corporate direction for its thirty thousand employees. Yet the press continued to hound the company and anyone who had even the remotest connection to its work.

  High on the ninetieth floor, a woman dressed in jeans and a t-shirt stood, hands clasped behind her back, gazing out at the view. Twelve months ago she had been, to all purposes, dead.

  A lot could change in a year.

  Now Dominique Lentz was the Chief Executive Officer of a globally renowned technology company. She controlled a hi-tech colossus that had been teetering on the brink. And she had brought it back. But she was under no illusions as to who really owned the company: the British government.

  They could not afford the embarrassment of CERUS failing. And, of course, there was considerable value in CERUS' assets. What government wouldn't want to explore their possibilities? Now they had unfettered access - at least to what was left. Because between Bern and Marron's conspiracy, and Tom's sabotage, much of CERUS' intellectual property was missing. And its greatest triumph had been lost in the fracas. Project Tantalus 2.0 had cost the lives of so many. Now it was gone: the files deleted, the scientists dead. All that remained was the project's one success. And Lentz had been instrumental in his disappearance.

  "Not tired of the view yet?" said a familiar voice.

  Lentz turned to see her director of communications, Kate Turner, with a tablet computer and a questioning look. "Not yet."

  "Are we good to catch up now?"

  Lentz shrugged. "I have the Board in half an hour, but sure."

  "And you're wearing jeans and a t-shirt?"

  "I've chosen to resist the corporate power-dressing." She walked over and closed the door. "I wish I didn't have to waste my time on the Board at all. Bern was onto something when he decided to run this operation like a dictatorship." She gestured to one of two leather sofas.

  "Perhaps. Although I wouldn't dip into his playbook too often." Kate pointed at dust sheets that were draped across the entrance to a doorway in one corner of the large office as she sat down. "Got the builders in?"

  Lentz nodded. "Felicia Hallstein, my new team member, has been nagging me to have Bern's old private apartment redecorated. She says it's making a break with the past. Not sure why it matters, given that I'm the only one who would ever use it. And I've never wanted to. I'd rather go home. If I work late, I'd rather be there."

  "You know, you don't look entirely like you're having fun."

  "I always wanted to be in control of what CERUS was doing, but I didn't actually want to be skipper. I'd rather be rolling up my sleeves and creating stuff in the lab. I want to solve problems," Lentz sat opposite her, "just not the kind Reems brings me. All this time toadying to our shareholders – it's paralysing."

  "It's what we need to do to be legal. Given how things have gone in the past, it's no bad thing. Speaking of CERUS' legal advisers, any word from Tom?"

  Lentz hesitated for just a moment, then shook her head. "Not since I wired him the money - the settlement for what 'we' did to him. Which he said he didn't want."

  "Did he say how he was doing?"

  "Not really. Didn't say where he was either. Just said he'd come and find us when he was ready. It's a pity, because I could really use his analysis. We've found other holes in the finances. Big holes."

  "I thought the funds got returned?"

  "Some, but Bern had been syphoning systematically for years, with almost no oversight. It's not been easy to track. I'd love to ask him directly, but my favourite contact at MI5 is not proving cooperative."

  Kate smiled. "Stephanie Reems not being helpful? You surprise me. Although wouldn't our interests be aligned here?"

  "I'm not sure what's going on. She's been distracted by claims Bern's legal team have been making that his confession was coerced. The trial should have been months back. It keeps getting postponed as they call for more expert witnesses."

  "Bern doesn't know when to give up."

  "Not in his vocabulary. I thought the same was true of Peter Marron, but it seems I was wrong."

  Kate nodded. "The loss of his daughter hit him hard."

  "Best not to assume someone's dead until you see a body," Lentz said, raising an eyebrow.

  "Well I guess you're proof of that." Kate picked up her tablet.

  There was a sharp knock at the door and Lentz's PA stuck her head inside. "You just had a call: Stephanie Reems."

  Lentz gave a sigh. "Put her through."

  The PA adjusted her glasses. "She's not holding. She needs you over at her office. Now, she said. If not sooner. She's cancelled your Board meeting."

  "Has she now? Did she say anything else, like what the new meeting is about?"

  The PA rolled her eyes. "Just that it was classified. I've had your driver bring the car out front. Ms Reems did say one other thing." She paused, looking uncomfortable. "She said 'sorry'."

  "Sorry?"

  "She said you'd know why when you got there."

  Five

  LENTZ ENTERED STEPHANIE REEMS' SECURE Whitehall suite; one of a number of offices the Head of MI5 operated, it was buried underground away from prying eyes and ears – and hopefully any other form of eavesdropping. Lentz met Reems in the corridor outside her private conference room.

  The MI5 Director gave a brief frown as her eyes flickered over Lentz's jeans and t-shirt. "Thanks for coming so quickly."

  Lentz shrugged. "Thanks for rescheduling my Board meeting."

  "I think you might actually mean that. Now there's someone I need you to meet."

  They walked into a large, windowless room. Two powerfully built men in suits stood at the rear, doing their best to reveal no expression. An older man stood, hands in pockets, reading from a file on the table in front of him. He looked up and smiled.

  "Dominique Lentz, I presume." He extended a hand, gripping hers with force.

  Reems moved to the far side of the table. "Dominique, this is Connor Truman. He is—"

  "Deputy Director of the CIA," replied Lentz, removing her hand from his grasp. "I've heard your name before." Lentz looked at Reems, then back at Truman. "You'll pardon my bluntness, but why am I here?"

  Reems cleared her throat. "Mr Truman is leading the US Government's investigations into what they have labelled the 'Tantalus Incident'."

  Lentz reached for a bottle of water in the middle of the table and poured herself a glass. "I'm a civilian. Surely this is an intelligence matter."

  Reems extended her palms. "It's OK to speak, Dominique. We've been cooperating fully with our US friends."

  Truman coughed. "I'm here as part of an operation lead by CIA Director Lazlo Banetti. Stephanie said I should speak to you in person, because of our interest in your developments in nanotechnology."

  Lentz sipped from her glass. "The British Government banned nanotechnology in the UK, under the 2013 Nanotech Act. You have similar legislation in the US, I believe."

  "Yes. But you did it anyway. At least that's what the rumours say."

  "Rumours are usually just that. I only took over at CERUS after the incident, as you call it. And our records from before that day were severely compromised during the events that you appear to know so much about."

  "But you were at CERUS in the early days. Let me be frank, we are worried this could be a whole new arms race. One where we're left behind at the start. And we do not want that."

  "So what do you want?"

  "To speak with Thomas Faraday."

  Lentz glared at Reems. "I thought Tom's involvem
ent was classified?"

  "I'm sorry, Dominique. There were too many witnesses. It was impossible to keep a lid on it."

  "Well, it's all irrelevant. We don't know where he is. Believe me, I wish we did."

  Truman nodded. "Is it true, what they say about him? That he is the successful outcome of Project Tantalus? That he can interface with the control systems of a suitably sophisticated helicopter?"

  Lentz hesitated. "Tom was an innocent caught up in a conspiracy. He didn't ask to get involved, and he deserves to be left alone."

  "I wish it were that simple. Mr Faraday is of immense interest not just to us, but to any state or organisation with any interest in developing an advanced neural interface. The type of operational or combat advantage that such a system would bring would be significant."

  "I imagine that's true. But why now?" Lentz asked. "This happened a year ago. Has something changed recently?"

  Truman's brow furrowed. "We have no guarantees that this dangerous technology did not leak out of CERUS: that it is not out there, being used. Being weaponised. It remains a clear and present danger, and we need to understand it – and how it can be countered."

  "If it helps, Deputy Director," said Lentz, "the technology that was developed was both incredibly complex and randomly lucky. And the lead scientists who developed it are all now dead. The few successes they had resulted from unforeseen and opportune circumstances that are unlikely to be repeated. Not to mention the research was incredibly expensive, and illegal almost everywhere."

  "So you're telling me that I shouldn't worry unless someone with lots of money and the resources to do this somewhere in secret comes along?" Truman growled. "Because obviously, that's never going to happen."

  "Well, I—"

  "So why don't you cut the—" Truman's phone rang and he glanced at it. "Pardon me." He turned away, whispered, listened, whispered again, then put it back in his pocket. "I have to go."

  Lentz watched Reems close the door. "Something I said?"

  Reems raised a hand, then picked up a small handheld device and waved it over herself and Lentz, then around the area where Truman had been sitting.

  "Don't trust him?"

  "I'm naturally wary of anyone who can get a phone signal in this room. That said, I've no strong opinions about Truman. But his boss, Lazlo Banetti - I've known him a long time, and I trust him to do what he deems necessary to achieve his goals. Which means Tom is in danger."

  "But they don't even seem to understand what Tom can do? They think it's just a helicopter control system."

  "That was the stated goal of the recent project. Let's just be glad they don't know more, or they would be far more interested."

  Lentz shrugged. "It doesn't really matter. Tom knows how to hide. I'm sure he's on the other side of the world."

  "I wanted him to hear it from you direct. That you don't know where he is. And that you don't know how to find him."

  "I don't."

  Reems puffed out her cheeks. "Dominique, I'm under a lot of pressure here."

  "From whom?"

  "Our military. Other divisions of government. It's not just the Interface. They want to know about nanotech weapons, nano viruses, nano bombs, carbon nanotubes, tailored nanotech drugs - all projects that are missing from the CERUS archives."

  "Did you ask Bern?"

  "He was not cooperative."

  "If you want something from him, then you need to find out what he wants."

  "I know what he wants: freedom. And it's not going to happen."

  "You really think Tom can help?"

  "We're not the only ones looking for him. And we're the good guys. We could protect him."

  "Oh sure. Of course we could."

  "You don't trust me?"

  "To a point. But in this case—"

  Reems' phone rang and she answered it, her expression becoming one of shock. "When? Why wasn't I told?" She clicked it off, her face pale. "It's Bern. He's been released on bail."

  Lentz nearly dropped her glass. "What? Why?"

  "His legal team are challenging his confession. Saying he was coerced."

  "When is he being released?"

  "Already happened. Some emergency sitting with a cooperative judge. Two hundred million bail. And he has agreed to remain under house arrest. With electronic tagging."

  "Isn't letting him out at all a huge risk?"

  Reems scowled. "I'm going to supervise a team to monitor his house. He might be out, but he's not going anywhere else."

  Six

  KATE LOOKED AT HER WATCH as she emerged from the lift into the underground car park. Lentz had not returned from her meeting with Reems, and eventually Kate had given up waiting. She walked to her car, a compact grey Audi, and saw to her irritation that a leaflet had been placed under the windscreen wipers. She was about to throw it in the nearest bin when she noticed what it was for: Brocca, an Italian restaurant she'd once been to. They were offering a special deal, tonight only. The last two words were underlined.

  She glanced around. There were no leaflets on the other cars. And of course the car park was secure: only CERUS staff could get in. She ran her fingers over the paper, thinking about the last evening she had spent at the restaurant.

  The traffic was surprisingly light, and Kate was soon pulling up across the road from Brocca. As she got out, she saw her parking meter was out of order, but as she swore, the electronic display reset to show two hours' credit. She shook her head, put her purse back in her bag, and was about to cross the road when something made her hesitate: the feeling that somebody was watching her, a sensation she'd had more than once recently. Looking around she saw nobody paying her particular attention. Then she noticed several street cameras. Muttering, she marched towards the restaurant.

  The Maitre d' smiled as she entered. "Ms Turner, your table is ready."

  "My table?" She hesitated. She'd not been here in a year, and had never seen the man before. "How did you know my name?"

  "Your host is already here. May I take your coat?" He signalled to a waiter, who walked over and nodded. She was shown to a booth at the back, almost invisible to the rest of the room. She held her breath as she approached. But the booth was empty. Confused she looked around the restaurant. Nobody was looking at her. What was going on?

  "I can recommend the lamb," said the waiter, returning to place a basket of bread on the table. "And perhaps Signora would like to choose some wine. The Dolcetto is excellent."

  The voice sounded familiar. "I was told my host was already here."

  "That's correct," he replied. "Is the disguise that good?"

  Kate blinked and looked up into the waiter's face. It was more creased than she remembered, and she suspected the eyebrows were false; she hoped the moustache was. It was Tom. She felt the air drawn from her lungs as she watched him take the seat opposite.

  "I'll take that as a 'yes'," he continued.

  She'd thought about this moment quite a bit over the last several months: planned various things to say, all crafted to sum up how she felt about him, her concern, her confusion. Had he been thinking about her, though? For twelve months she'd heard nothing. "You're not dead then."

  He flinched at her words. As he did so, she saw the sallowness in his eyes, the pallor to his skin. "Not yet."

  "So... the leaflet?" You could have just called me. Or do you think someone is monitoring you?"

  "I have no doubt they're trying."

  "Aren't the bad guys all dead or locked up?"

  "Not all of them."

  Kate shook her head. "How did you get into the car park to put the leaflet there?"

  Tom smiled. "I bribed an employee. It wasn't hard."

  "I thought you could just walk in anywhere, control the security system like some kind of digital superman?"

  "It's not always that simple. More and more things are encrypted, and they're hard to break." He frowned. "Is something wrong?"

  "It's just I'm wondering why we're meeting."

/>   "Aren't we friends? Is it strange for friends to have dinner?"

  "A friend would have been in touch more than..." She glared. "I haven't heard from you once in twelve months. After what we went through, I just can't believe it, really."

  "You know that—"

  "I don't know anything. Dominique has been worried too. It's been hard for all of us. You could have confided in me. You know you can trust me. I didn't go public with the story."

  "That was your choice."

  "Whatever. I didn't mean you owed me or anything."

  "You don't know what I've been through." He rubbed his temples with both forefingers. "You really have no idea what it's like."

  "I have a bit of an idea."

  Tom looked at her and appeared to stifle a laugh. "You mean the truth nano? Seriously, you think that's the same? Those nanites were in you for a few minutes. I've had them in my head for over a year, and they're still there. For you they changed a moment. For me they changed my life, and that change hasn't stopped."

  Kate stared at him. "At least you still have your life. Not everyone made it out of the events last year."

  "You don't need to remind me: I think about Jo every day, about her pointless death... "

  A few people looked their way. Kate took a deep breath and reached out her hand towards him. "I'm sorry, Tom. I really didn't mean to—" There was a spark between them. A jolt of static. "What the...?" she began, pulling her hand back.

  He jerked back too. "Wearing nylon?"

  She frowned at her fingers. "Not even close. My clothing budget has improved in the last twelve months."

  He gave a strained smile. "I didn't ask you here to argue. Look I'm sorry. There are things about the last year that I would change if I could. Can we try and start over?"

  Kate sucked in her top lip. "Perhaps. And maybe this time we can actually finish our meal." A real waiter appeared and they ordered. Kate noted that Tom ordered three main dishes. "Not watching the waistline?" she asked.

  He tapped his head. "Using the Interface consumes a great deal of energy, so I still need a lot of calories. If anything, it's got worse."