by Andrea Hicks
‘Where did you get this?’ my voice barely a whisper.
‘Nina, your father was under observation when he worked with Dr Finch at a laboratory in Edinburgh. Maybe you were too young to remember him working away from home at that time, but he stayed in Edinburgh during the week and went home to you and your mother at the weekends. We were led to believe that he was taking his work home.’
I frown. ‘How would he be able to do that if he worked in a laboratory?’
She sits down again and inclines her head to one side. ‘Your blood is the same as the students we tested after the vaccine trials. There’s only one way it could have happened. He vaccinated you as an experiment. You don’t have CF. The volunteers all either had CF themselves or someone in their immediate family was a sufferer. He clearly wanted to test it on someone who didn’t have the disease and the only person he could vaccinate was you. We thought your mother was involved but we now think that as she wasn’t given the vaccination, it’s quite likely she didn’t know.’
A sudden breeze lifts the leaves of the trees and shrubs in the courtyard, but it doesn’t cool me enough to stop perspiration running down my neck. I’m distraught and can’t believe what I’m hearing. My father used me as a guinea pig, an innocent little girl, without telling my mum. And because of that my life is in freefall. That they’re using me as bait to net my dad is clear, but what isn’t clear is Cain’s involvement. I’ve always been outspoken, at least, I was until the incident at my university pulled the rug out from underneath my feet. There was no one to protect me, no other person knew how I felt, or that I shut myself in my room sobbing with my head on my knees because of what happened. It was violent, disgusting and put me off any kind of relationship with a guy. My friendship with Dylan was based solely on the needs of both of us, his to feed his escalating drug habit; mine just to have some kind of connection with another person who wouldn’t judge me. I never told Aunt Rochelle what happened. I couldn’t put it into words, so...I didn’t. It was just easier because without speaking about it, without allowing those words, like rape and sexual assault and humiliation to leave my mouth, I could almost kid myself that it hadn’t happened, that they hadn’t pinned me down in my room in the halls of residence and taken turns to do what they wanted to do to satisfy their need to show their power over a defenceless girl. I was assured that it was nothing to do with wanting sex, but all to do with control. Yes, of course I understood it, but it was also about four guys who thought it would be fun to try and outdo one another whilst violently attacking another human being in the most frightening and degrading way possible. It changed me as a person. I became almost timid which is not my natural personality. I hid myself away from people, away from life.
‘So where does Cain fit in in?’
Cecily leans back in her chair and lights a Marlboro Slim from a packet she takes from her pocket. ‘I’m sure Cain has told you, he’s a scientist here at Plan Bee.’
‘But there are other scientists here, and there have been other people at Plan Bee with similar blood. Why is he so interested in me?’
She glances up at Cain. I watch them as a silent agreement between them is made. ‘His father is Dr Michael Finch who worked with Tate Spencer, your father, at the laboratory in Edinburgh.’
‘She knows that,’ says Cain.
‘All of it?’ Cecily asks him. He shakes his head and her eyes go back to me. ‘Cain is also my son.’
The craziness of what she’s just told me doesn’t sink in. Cecily Cunningham and Michael Finch are Cain’s parents. This is the woman Cain wanted me to kill, but not just any woman. His own mother. I sit in silence. I wonder if she knows that her son, the child she gave birth to wants her dead. I know better than to say anything. It could damage my chances of my being with Dad again and I can’t risk it, but I’m stunned. Cain is evil. He must be totally evil.
‘What’s going to happen to me?’ Cain puts his hands on my shoulders as if he’s marking his territory and I flinch. He feels the tension in my muscles and backs off.
‘We’d like you to stay here,’ Cecily says as she stubs out her cigarette and lights another.
‘Do I have a choice?’ She raises an eyebrow and closes her eyes momentarily, which means no.
‘Will there be more blood tests?’
‘No. There is no reason to test you again. We’ve established that your blood is authentically different, and even trying to discover how your immunity is set up won’t help us with what we really want.’
‘My father.’
‘Yes, and if you know of his whereabouts, Nina, or anything that could help us I urge you to tell us right away. It will help us, you, and also your father.’ I immediately think of Baxter and Tom who have gone to our old flat. What if it is Dad there? How will they get the information to me without going through Cain? Baxter was so right about him. Perhaps I should have listened. No, strike that. I should have listened.
‘I don’t know where he is. I haven’t seen or heard from Dad since he left the house all those years ago and never returned. Part of me thinks he’s dead.’
‘There is every chance he could be.’ Anxiety curls around my stomach and leaves me breathless. ‘But, he, or someone else changed his name from Spencer to Gourriel within the last month. Your friends who went to your old apartment to find him this morning have been apprehended and are being brought to Plan Bee as we speak.’ She smiles. ‘I know you think we’re the enemy, Nina, but really, we’re not.’
‘Which is why you had my face plastered across TV screens and newspapers saying I was Public Enemy No. 1.’
‘It was to protect you.’
‘Well, newsflash. I don’t feel remotely protected and I think you couldn’t give a rat’s arse about me or my dad. You just want the last piece of the puzzle before anyone else gets hold of it. I thought the Cold War was dead.’
‘Don’t believe a word of it.’
‘I don’t, and I don’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth, or Cain’s for that matter. I’ve been played and I’m as mad as hell. You might not be raping my body but you’re raping my life and you have no right. I want to see Edward Spencer.’
Cecily laughs, gets up from her chair, smooths her pencil skirt across her thighs and pushes her chair up to the table. ‘I bet you would. Good luck with that?’
I decide to play my card. ‘But I’m related to him. I should be able to see him. I bet he thinks so too.’
Her face hardens and she pushes it in front of mine. ‘Don’t play that game with me.’ She straightens up and lifts her chin to Cain, as if to say get her out of my office. He taps me on the shoulder and I rise from my chair, slowly, with a pursed lips and puff of a long sigh of indifference. I know it’ll annoy him.
‘So where are we going?’
‘To your hotel room, ma’am.’
‘Right. Well, I hope it’s better than the last one I was kept in. If it isn’t I’ll make life difficult I promise you.’
He rolls his eyes. ‘No change there then.’
I pull my arm away from his hand and glare at him. ‘Do you think I don’t know you’ve stitched me up, Cain. And my friends. You’re a complete bastard and I couldn’t hate you any more than I do right now. And how could you ask me to kill your own mother?’
‘Keep your bloody voice down,’ he snarls sotto voce. ‘I knew you wouldn’t do it. It was a test.’
‘And what if I had? What if I’d been the kind of person who kills because it’s fun, because I’m as bonkers and hateful as you are?’
His eyes narrow. ‘Then she’d be dead, wouldn’t she?’
It’s at this moment I realise that Cain is a psychopath and my mouth goes dry. I’ve totally and utterly misread this guy. Baxter didn’t. ‘Where are the others?’
‘Being interviewed I should think. Strange friends you have.’
I laugh without mirth. ’You’re no judge, Cain, believe me.’
He takes me through a maze of corridors to a room without
a window, like the one in which I was previously held, yet this is more like a boutique hotel room. There’s a double bed, TV, books, coffee and tea appliances and an ensuite.
‘This is more than you deserve,’ he says, pushing me into the room. ‘But Cece reckons we need to take care of you because it’s the only way we’ll get hold of Tate Spencer. If we can show him we care about you we’ll have a chance to get what we need.’
‘And what’s that?’ I glare at him. I feel so much dislike for this man, I can only wonder what on earth went wrong with him. That he’s a psychopath there is no doubt. Part of my university course covered psychological disorders in criminals; it was one of the most interesting yet disturbing modules we covered. It made me realise that some people are born bad, born wicked and corrupt. I made this observation to my tutor, although he wasn’t convinced and said studies would tell us it’s environment that leads people to step off the track of what’s acceptable. Cain fits the bill so completely I’m terrified at what he’s capable of. If my tutor is correct, what on earth did Cecily Cunningham and Dr Finch do to Cain, and Hikaru, to make them so merciless?
Chapter 22
Later that day I’m taken back to Cecily’s office near the courtyard and I’m surprised to find Baxter and Tom there. Cecily is sitting at her desk and she beckons one of her flunkeys to take us into the office. Cain is nowhere to be seen. We stand in front of her like three naughty schoolkids about to be admonished for some misdemeanour or other. Cecily would make a good headmistress. She has that “jolly hockey-stick” way about her. She inhales a deep breath, and I can see from the way it trembles when she releases it that she’s not happy.
‘You’re to be released.’ My eyes widen and I have to work extremely hard so that a smirk doesn’t appear around my mouth because I know she’ll come out fighting. I glance up at the others but they remain staring over Cecily’s head, so I do the same. ‘Edward Spencer has decided we have no grounds to hold you. It seems you have friends in high places.’ Thank the Lord for Baxter. He must have contact the PM and told him what was happening before he was arrested. ‘However, you had better make sure that you behave yourselves. MI5 and the government is aware of your involvement in the search for Tate Spencer, or Gourriel, whichever name he’s currently using. You’re to go back to No. 12 on Edward Spencer’s instructions. If you’re sensible you will take my advice and stay there. Don’t be surprised if you are watched day and night. And if by some chance you come into contact with Tate Spencer, either personally or electronically, I suggest you pass that information on. If I discover you have withheld information, you’ll be rearrested for perverting the course of justice.’ I want to ask how any of this is justice, but I keep quiet. I need to get out of here because I’m hoping Baxter and Tom have some news for me. If it’s negative, that they didn’t find my father, or any trace of him then it’s something we can work with. But, if it’s positive, and he is there, but escaped before Baxter and Tom were arrested, even better.
Cecily rises from her chair, reaches into her pocket, and finds her pack of Marlboro Slims, lighting one from a pink plastic lighter on the desk. ‘I don’t want you to think this isn’t serious. As far as I’m concerned you’re still in trouble. You should thank your lucky stars I’m not PM, because if I were you’d be locked up and I’d throw away the key. I urge you not to involve yourself in things you don’t understand. And you, young man.’ She looks pointedly at Baxter. ‘You are fortunate that Edward Spencer rates your services to him highly enough to save you from certain incarceration. If you value your position you’ll put some distance between yourself and this...young lady. Do the job you were given and stop trying to play detective. Let the people who know what they’re doing do that job. They much more proficient at it than you.’
She flicks her hand holding the cigarette towards us in a gesture of dismissal. The flunkey opens the door to the office and ushers us out. We’re led to the reception area where he unlocks the glass door and stands aside after giving us a look that would curdle milk.
Baxter, Tom, and I stand in the street outside the Plan Bee offices. Tom manages to look even more like Shaggy. He has his hands pushed deep into the pockets of his baggy jeans, his hair is like a flokati rug and he has a couple of days growth on his chin. I chuckle and shake my head, but honestly, I’m so glad he’s with me rather than against me and I can’t wait to ask them.
‘Well?’
‘Well what?’ says Tom.
‘Did you find anything at the apartment?’
Baxter looks towards Plan Bee and puts his fingers to his lips. ‘Reckon we should go back to No. 12 like Ms. Cunningham says. It’s by far the safest thing for us to do and it’s what she wants.’ He winks at me and gets his phone out of his pocket. ‘Noah, can you come for us? We’re at the Plan Bee offices. We’re coming back to Downing Street. The PM knows.’ Twenty minutes later a black sedan pulls up and we climb in. I open my mouth to say something but Baxter shakes his head and pulls a grim face, so I sit back in the seat and say nothing.
Back at No. 12 Baxter takes charge.
‘Right, I’m going to have a shower. There’s a room with an ensuite on the top floor you can have, Nina. I suggest you do the same thing. We’ll find you one of the catering departments’ black dresses for you to change into. And you, Tom.’
‘No black dress for me, thanks.’ I giggle but Baxter looks serious. He grabs a pen from the mantlepiece and scribbles something down on a scrap of paper, passing it to me. When you’ve changed bundle up your clothes and I’ll have them burnt. I show it to Tom and he gives the thumbs up. I shrug and nod, wondering why all the cloak and dagger stuff, but Baxter’s expression says everything, so I do as he asks. When I’ve showered and changed I join them in the common room where Baxter and Tom are deep in conversation.
‘Why must our clothes be burnt?’ I ask him as I sit next to him on the sofa.
‘They probably bugged us. One of their guys could have slipped something into a pocket or into our phones when they took them. We don’t have the equipment here to check for everything so it’s the safest thing to do. We must always be aware they could be listening in, so when in doubt write it down then get rid of it.’
‘Did you find anything at the apartment?’
Tom nods. ‘We think he’s been staying there, Nina. We only got as far as looking through the window when we were arrested, but there was a newspaper clipping stuck on the fridge with a magnet. It was headline from when the newspapers broke the news about you. Why would anyone keep that unless they were personally involved.’
A wave of heat flows over me and I close my eyes. ‘I can’t believe it. After all this time I’m going to see him again. I must see him again.’
When I open my eyes Baxter is staring at me. ‘Aren’t you even slightly angry at him for putting you through this? I mean, I don’t know the details, but I’m assuming he vaccinated you to see what would happen. He used you, Nina. You were a child, an innocent without a choice. I’m not so sure I’d be that happy to see him.’
I nod and sigh because it’s not something I hadn’t thought about. It’s obvious what happened, that he took the vaccine to our apartment and then vaccinated me without my mum knowing. She was an old hippy who didn’t believe in using chemicals to cure things, and she hated anti-biotics. She said they had caused massive damage to our waterways and our food chains and could be the reason why our bee population was so depleted. She said natural selection was nature’s way of balancing the population; that if it wasn’t balanced we would probably all die from starvation because there wouldn’t be enough food to feed everyone around the globe. I remember her ranting and raving about the pharmaceutical companies, and didn’t they know what they were doing to us when they were blithely handing out drugs to anyone who went to the doctors with a sore throat. She would never ever have agreed to my dad using something so new and invasive on me, their daughter, their only child, because Mum couldn’t have any more children after she’d had m
e. She said it was one of her greatest regrets because she’d always imagined having a huge family to take care of, but she blessed every day because she had me. She said I was her greatest achievement. I wonder what she would think now.
‘He did the wrong thing, Baxter. He shouldn’t have done what he did, but Dad wasn’t a bad person. He was kind and gentle, and I honestly believe that he did what he did because he thought it was a good thing. He must have known what he’d found, and maybe he disappeared because he knew that in the wrong hands it could cause devastation. I remember I loved my father, and my mum adored him. She was broken when he left. Totally bereft. No one can know how she would feel about all this, but she would have known that he did it for the best reasons, because she knew him better than anyone. He was a scientist which in a way went again everything she believed in, yet she still loved him. She would have forgiven him, I’m sure of it.’
‘And will you? Can you forgive him for risking your life, more than once?’
‘I must, or I’ll have no one.’
‘You have me...I mean us.’
‘You don’t know me, Leo. We don’t know each other.’
‘You only call me Leo when you’re being serious. Usually it’s Baxter like everyone else calls me.’
‘It’s your name. Isn’t it. And...’
‘And?’
‘And, it seems more personal. Everyone calls you Baxter. I don’t really feel comfortable with it, not entirely. The PM calls you Baxter. He’s your boss. I’m your...’
‘What are you?’
I look at him closely. ‘We’re friends, aren’t we? New friends. And I am grateful. I really am, to you and Tom, for trying to help me. You didn’t have to. You could have turned away and told me to get on with it.’ I put my hand on his arm. ‘You’re a good person.’ He nods and pulls a sort of grin and suddenly I get where he’s coming from. He’s attracted to the mixed-race girl who has brought a roller-coaster into his life. It’s not the right time. It’s just not the right time. ‘You know, I can’t think of anything apart from finding my father at the moment, Leo. He’s the key, the answer to this.’