Deep Fried: A Novel

by Beckett, Bernard

  We reach the shaft, a vertical chimney in the rock, as high as the cliffs, of course. Sophie pulls herself up to standing. I do the same. There is barely room. I look up. All I can see is a white circle of sky. The cool air rushes down, washes over my face. I want to laugh, and cry, and hug her.

  ‘You alright?’ I ask. A stupid, pointless question. I can see her face now. Strange how familiar it seems.

  ‘I’ll go first,’ she smiles. ‘Catch me if I fall.’

  Climbing up is the easy part. The rocks are friendly, providing solid footholds, and the chimney is narrow enough to reach out and touch any of the walls. We edge up, one small step at a time. They might be waiting, of course. Marcus knows where this comes out. There are other places though, where we might be. They can’t be guarding every possibility.

  We make it to the top and there’s no one there. It’s the most brilliant feeling, the touch of grass. We scramble away from the hole, 20 metres, maybe more, then fall to our stomachs. I look back across to the lodge. The lights are on. From where we are we can easily slip across the fields into the darkness. Find a haybarn somewhere. Get warm. Sleep. We’re safe.

  Until Sophie says: ‘There’s a computer in there right?’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘The room, where you were when I found you.’

  ‘Yeah. Why?’

  ‘I have to get to it.’

  ‘Don’t be crazy.’

  ‘Pete, I trusted you jumping off that cliff. Now it’s your turn to trust me.’

  ‘It’s different,’ I tell her.

  ‘How? How is it different?’

  ‘We’re free now. We’re safe.’

  ‘You really believe that?’ she says.

  ‘Yeah. We can get back out across those paddocks.’

  ‘And do what?’

  ‘Find somewhere warm. Sleep. In the morning we’ll go to the police.’

  It makes sense to me. In my head, my tired, freezing head, it sounds reasonable.

  ‘Pete, we don’t have much time. Last year PBs turned over more money than the entire New Zealand economy. Now imagine what a government might do to someone that could destroy the whole economy. I mean wipe half the value of the country out overnight. They’d break the rules. All PBs are doing is what they have to do. We’re at war with them.’

  I don’t say anything. I’m drowning in denial. I’m not at war with anyone. I jumped over a counter and gave away a few burgers. That’s all I ever did. How’s that a declaration of war? What about the other world; the world of television microwave dinners, air-conditioning and Have a Nice Day? I want to live in that world. Why can’t that world be true? She takes my silence to be a challenge.

  ‘There’s a photo, Pete. They’ve got a photo of your sister, asleep in her Dunedin flat. Someone’s been in there. Stood over her with a camera. What do you think they’re planning to do next, if they think you’re not listening?’

  ‘No. That must be wrong. How do you know it was her?’

  ‘I’ve seen a photo of her.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘In your room.’

  A lot of questions could spring from that, but we’re face down on the ground, soaking wet, and one of the world’s biggest companies wants us dead. Deep down I know it’s true. But I don’t want to know. I want Sophie to tell me it’s okay to run away. She can’t. Her voice is quiet and measured, like a surgeon explaining the options to a man who suddenly wishes he’d never touched a cigarette, or a burger, or helped himself to one more dessert.

  ‘For the past four years, PBs’ global sales have been falling. They’re used to being big and powerful but now the weight of their success is sinking them. They’re getting desperate. Lucinda is so wrong. It isn’t just a burger, it’s an empire. A big, bloated, collapsing empire, and it’s striking back. Look, you just have to trust me.’

  She trusted me. She held my hand and leapt into the darkness. I look at her. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but I don’t think she’s even blinking. I wish it wasn’t like this. I wish I’d just stayed in that queue, kept my head down and my big mouth shut. Fuck.

  She doesn’t stop.

  ‘I tracked down a story about a finance company in the US, they set it up to help farmers with their investments. Then they bankrupt it deliberately, the farmers lost their lives’ savings and were forced to sell the farms. Guess who bought them? It’s not just a little bit of rot, Pete, they’re rancid the whole way down.’

  How can she know all this? She’s not normal. None of this is normal, even out here she stands out. I look at her, and I wonder what my friends would think. In the distance someone shouts out, I can’t hear what. We wait, hold our breaths. Nothing.

  ‘That’s why they’re so scared of you, of us,’ Sophie tells me. ‘They’ve got a lot to hide. But people don’t get what computers have done to the world. No one’s got any secrets any more. The world can’t go back to secrets. You can’t get there from here. People like you and me, we’ve got them running scared.’

  There’s no doubt in my mind now. There’s no way of turning her back. This isn’t over.

  ‘But we can’t go to the police. They’re ready for that. They’ll say I’m a paranoid conspiracy theorist. And you’re bitter because you missed out on the scholarship.’

  ‘But there is no scholarship,’ I tell her, because I’m still stuggling here, to see just what it means to be that big, that powerful.

  ‘They have interviewed eight different teenagers and they’ve awarded four scholarships, just like they told your parents they would. Marcus and Lucinda are both on the payroll. It’s watertight. And even if the police were prepared to listen, there isn’t a scrap of information they’ll ever be able to find. Right now, they have their very best experts working on this, covering every electronic track. I know my computers, Pete. This is what I’m good at, but as soon as they found out last night that I existed, they will have been blocking my every move. And with all that money, how good do you think their lawyers are going to be?’

  ‘So why the fuck did you come here then?’ My anger takes me by surprise, but it’s a fair question.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Before you came, they wanted to give me money. Now they want to kill me.’

  ‘So you were just going to take the money?’ she asks.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I lie.

  ‘You started this,’ Sophie tells me. Her hair is wet and flat and sticks in clumps to her white scalp. She looks younger this way, and fiercer too. But not fierce enough to match them, is what I think.

  ‘How did I start it?’

  ‘When you jumped up on that counter, you broke their rules. No one knows how powerful these people are, no one even knows they’re there, until you break their rules.’

  ‘So we’re screwed then?’

  ‘We’ve got one last shot.’

  I like the way she says that. Blame television. The trouble I’m in right at this moment is bigger and uglier than all the rest of the trouble in my life so far combined, and I still find myself thinking that it’s sort of cool the way she says that. I need help. Why aren’t I just running away? One last shot.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Before I came out here I set my computer running on an encryption buster. Everything I’ve told you, I’ve collected files for. I’ve been in amongst their records and until last night, they had no idea I was there. I’ve stripped out enough information to destroy them, almost. And, the important thing is, I’m not alone. I’m working with someone else.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘A journalist. With connections. I found her on a website. She was already researching this stuff. She’s for real. A big English paper. Only she can’t print it. Her editor will never run a story against someone like PBs unless they’re a hundred percent. So she’s waiting for a last detail, the password to a bank account, so she can confirm the link to the organisations they use as a front. I don’t have the name but I know where to find it. It’s sitti
ng there on an old file they think they’ve erased, but I need to break the encryption. I’m hoping it’s already done. I have to get on the internet and hook up with the computer I’m using. And I have to do it before they trace the hack back to my terminal and close me down. Now they know I exist, it won’t take them long. It’s not my home computer, don’t worry. They will have already got Father Dear to set light to that. I’m using one at school, and I’ve scrambled the login route, used a free provider so there’s no ID details, and tangled the path as much as I can. It’ll take them a while, no matter how good they are. But they will find it. I need to get back into that file and I need to find that name and send it through. Before they find me. It’s a race, Pete. We might have already lost it. I don’t know. But we have to get to that computer. You have to help me.’

  ‘But if they catch us …’ I don’t have to finish that sentence. She looks at me. She’s as scared as I am, and in the weird way of being human, that makes me feel suddenly braver. ‘Okay, let’s try.’ ‘I knew you’d say that,’ she smiles. ‘You’re a hero, Pete. You’re my hero.’

  You want to know something about being a hero? It’s seriously overrated.

  Getting back in is the easy part. They’re all still outside looking for us. Torches flicker on/off at the top of the cliff. Their shouting carries in snatches on the wind. We circle around to the back, then hug the building, cautiously checking every door. The first to open takes us into an industrial kitchen. Light from the room next door spills in through a half open door. Knives and whisks and colanders hang from a central bar over a stainless steel bench. The floor smells of disinfectant, the bins have been emptied; not a wayward scrap of food or smear of oil has survived the end-of-shift scrub down. A proud room, quietly awaiting its next challenge. Just the sort of kitchen you need to meet the cultured tastes of the men and women who force-feed the world its burgers. We slip through quietly, Sophie leading, me half a step behind. She stops at the doorway, looks out into the carpeted corridor beyond. I close up behind her.

  ‘Which way?’ she whispers.

  I don’t know, but point left. She skips lightly on, and again, I follow. She freezes. I listen hard, hear nothing but my heart. She turns and pushes me back, all the way to the kitchen. We crouch in front of an oven and wait. She’s right, there’s someone coming. A door opens. Footsteps in the corridor. Marcus’s voice. He’s talking on a phone.

  ‘No, it’s alright,’ he tells the other end. ‘I know what Frank told you… No, listen to me… I said I’m aware of that. But just because he told you that doesn’t necessarily make it so… Well answer me this then. Why did we set up … No, no I didn’t…. See, you and I both know that’s a lie… No, Frank wasn’t there. Jesus, will you listen to me for a moment?… Okay, well look, it isn’t going to be an issue is it? Yeah, do. Tomorrow morning. The earlier the better. By then it’ll be sorted. Yes, you have my word.’

  We hear the release of breath. I imagine him running his hand over his short hair. He walks off. I hear the same door opening, and him shouting out, ‘Lucinda! Lucinda, that was Holly.’

  Then the door closes.

  Sophie moves again. Quicker this time. We round a bend in the corridor and I recognise the foyer.

  ‘Through there, left, second door.’

  A door. A single door. On the other side is a room. And in that room there’s either someone waiting or there isn’t. And standing on this side, even with an ear against it, the way Sophie has, there’s no way of knowing which is true. Schrödinger’s cat, but it’s not the cat that might die. It’s us. The observers. The openers of doors. Sophie looks at me, asking for permission to do what has to be done. I nod.

  It’s empty.

  Sophie goes straight for the keyboard. I check the other rooms. Then I stand nervously in the middle of the lounge, feeling useless. Like a blindfolded man on a firing range. Just waiting. The way we all are.

  ‘How long will it take?’

  ‘Dunno. Computer’s still up though. Excellent.’

  ‘Has it broken the encryption?’

  ‘Don’t talk.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  I hover. I can see it’s annoying her. But what else am I meant to do?

  ‘Go and wait at the door. Make sure there’s no one coming.’

  ‘And if there is?’

  ‘Stall them.’

  I open the door just a crack, peer out it into the corridor. It helps, to have a job. Behind me I can hear Sophie tapping away, muttering to herself, commentating on her progress. I can’t tell if it’s good news or bad.

  The approaching footsteps are less ambiguous. I shut the door. Sophie looks up.

  ‘Someone’s coming.’

  She stares at me, like I’m meant to offer something more. She says, ‘I need more time.’

  Bravery is something I admire in other people, but I wouldn’t ever choose it for myself. Cowards get to stand in the back row, at the funerals of heroes. But desperation’s different from bravery. There should be no medals for bravery in situations where the person had no choice. I have no choice.

  I leave her at the keyboard, saving the world, and I burst out of that doorway, run straight bang into a Lucinda-ful of surprise, knock her on her arse and keep right on running. She’s up very quickly, chasing and screaming, and leaving Sophie well alone. I make the front door and am on to the gravel before the first of the torches comes running at me.

  I’m not a sportsman. And even if I was, I’m exhausted. There’s no point hoping to outrun them. So I think laterally, stand still to conserve energy. Wait until she’s almost on me, jump away. Step a man I do not recognise, who has dropped his torch to free his hands; run straight at a second, swerve at the last moment, and head for the shed, because it’s close. Marcus comes out of nowhere, dives at my legs just before I make the building, doesn’t miss, takes me to the ground.

  He’s strong, or I’m empty, because I try to fight back and it doesn’t seem to worry him. He picks me up by the shoulders, slams my back against the door. Torchlight shines into my face. Behind it three figures clump into a single shadow.

  ‘So you made the jump?’ Lucinda says. She isn’t trying to be friendly about it. We’re past pretending. I spit in her face, just to be sure she understands. Marcus tightens his grip on me. Like I could hurt any more.

  ‘Where’s the other one then?’ Lucinda asks. ‘What happened to your little girlfriend?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Bullshit.’

  I stare back, say nothing. In my head the seconds tick on by. Every one of them a gift for Sophie.

  ‘We’ll find her too.’

  ‘No you won’t.’

  ‘So you do know where she is?’

  ‘What were you doing coming back here?’ Marcus asks. He’s not stupid, Marcus. It’d be easier to like him, if he was.

  ‘I was getting clothes,’ I tell him. ‘I have to get warm.’

  ‘She’ll be cold too then, Pete,’ Lucinda tells me. ‘She won’t make it to the morning, if we don’t get some clothes to her. You have to tell us where she is.’

  ‘I don’t know where she is.’

  Lucinda leans forward and her face is caught in the torchlight. She’s an ugly woman, Lucinda. Cold, dangerous, ugly. Always has been, I suppose, but we see what we want to see. See what we think we’re seeing. Now I see her, and hate her, and want to watch her burn.

  ‘You’re a stupid little boy, Pete. We could have saved you, you know.’

  ‘I don’t want saving,’ I tell her.

  ‘Your funeral,’ she replies. ‘Come on, it’s cold out here. We’ll take him inside.’

  ‘I’ll tell you where she is!’ I blurt. Every second counts now.

  ‘Where?’ Marcus asks, and I’m about to tell them my lie, that I left her in the cave, but Lucinda’s a step ahead of me.

  ‘He doesn’t want us to go inside. That’s where she is. That’s why he came running out. He was trying to save her. Quick. Quick!’
>
  Marcus grabs me by the neck and propels me forward. I stumble on, trying to resist, but somehow we’re keeping pace with the others.

  ‘Stay out here,’ Lucinda orders one of the men, when we reach the lodge. ‘Danny, you guard the back.’

  So it’s just the three of us again, Lucinda on one side, Marcus on the other, walking down the corridor, just like the old days. Lucinda goes in first, slams the door back, trying to look powerful I suppose. Marcus has me by the neck, and throws me into the room. I look up from the floor, see Sophie still sitting there, in front of the keyboard. On the wall the screen flicks to black. I search Sophie’s eyes for a clue.

  ‘Hello, Sophie.’

  ‘Lucinda.’

  Nothing, not even a blink, from either of them.

  ‘What have you been doing? Trying to get your daddy to help you out? Welcome to the real world little girl. Daddy’s not going to be much use to you here.’

  Sophie looks Lucinda straight in the eyes. Her clothes might be wet and her hands might be shaking, but when she smiles I know exactly where all the power in this room has clumped. I turn back to Marcus and Lucinda and they can sense it too. No one speaks. I stand slowly, walk to the side of the room, for a better view.

  ‘Welcome back,’ Sophie finally says. ‘How does it feel to lose?’

  ‘You’re not getting away. I don’t care what you think you’ve done. In three hours other people will be here, and then you’re not our problem, either of you. Marcus, tie her up first.’

  Marcus doesn’t move. He knows there’s more. Sophie calls the bluff with her smile.

  ‘I want to tell you guys a little story, before we break out the ropes again. It’s about a god who fell to earth, and he didn’t cope so well. You know what I love about old people like you? You made this world for us, but you don’t understand it. A hotmail account! What were you thinking when you left Pete’s dad a hotmail account? And Marcus, sorry but I have to blame you here, why exactly did you think it might be a good idea to use the same password for your work account? Why not just break into my house at night and leave a little parcel on my pillow containing all your darkest secrets?’