Book Read Free

Million Eyes

Page 25

by C. R. Berry


  Jennifer’s chest tightened. She inspected the label. Like medication, there was a list of directions:

  Do not use without a chronode.

  Take one tablet only.

  Wait at least 6 hours before taking a further tablet.

  If you experience dizziness, coughing, abdominal pain or nausea, consult the Time Travel Department immediately before further use.

  All time travel must be authorised by the Time Travel Department.

  Do not use chronozine unless it has been prescribed by the Time Travel Department.

  It was them. Million Eyes. No question.

  But that means…

  No. No, no, no.

  Sarah? A Million Eyes operative?

  Jennifer tipped the pills back into the bottle and fastened the cap. She tucked it into the large front pocket of her hoody with her phone and house key, then replaced the box of chronozine on the shelf. She looked around at some other boxes. Tachyon inverters. Cognits. Polaron relays. Thoridium. It was sci-fi technobabble central in here. She wouldn’t have been surprised to see a box of flux capacitors.

  Her eyes settled on a box labelled Covert transcribers. She wasn’t sure why that one intrigued her. Perhaps it was the word covert. She pulled the box off the shelf, set it down on the floor and looked inside.

  Her heart skipped a beat. A queasy feeling rippled at the pit of her stomach. Her armpits felt hot.

  The box was full of books, all copies of the same one. A book Jennifer had seen before – and tried to forget: The History of Computer-Aided Timetabling for Railway Systems. By Jeremy Jennings.

  Gregory Ferro never learned why this book was so important to Million Eyes. So important that they were willing to rewrite history to get it back. Was Jennifer about to find out?

  Fingers trembling, she lifted a copy from the box. For some reason the books were vacuum-packed in cellophane, or something like cellophane. She tried to rip it open with her fingers – too tough. She pulled her house key from her pocket and used it to stab the plastic – also not easy. Pushing hard she eventually made a hole at the top, but she had to dig all her fingers inside to tear it open.

  Finally inside, Jennifer lifted the plain green cover.

  What?

  It was blank.

  Jennifer flicked through the pages – all blank. She grabbed another copy. Also blank. Every page – empty.

  What the fuck is going on here?

  Stairs creaked. Shit! Her attention had waned from the voices in the basement – and now those voices were travelling up the stairs.

  She kept a hold of the copy she’d taken and, faster than she’d ever moved, flung the lid on the box, shoved it back on the shelf, sprang at the wall to flick the light switch and bolted into the closest aisle between the rows of shelves, out of sight of the door.

  The voices and footsteps got louder.

  Jennifer could hear Sarah. She and her male visitor were about to enter the room.

  Jennifer sucked in a breath and held it.

  They came in. With a click, the light was on again. As they entered, the man was saying, “I remember my mother telling me about the coronation. My grandfather got the family a TV just so they could watch it.”

  For some reason they were talking about the Queen, although Sarah said nothing in reply.

  Shuffling noises. Someone was moving one of the boxes.

  Jennifer didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Sarah and the man were literally a metre from her, standing on the other side of the shelves.

  “What?” said Sarah.

  Oh God. She’d seen something. She’d noticed one of the boxes wasn’t in the right place.

  Jennifer squeezed her eyes shut.

  “What is it?” said Sarah.

  The man replied, “This is really happening, isn’t it.”

  Okay, she hadn’t noticed anything – yet. She was addressing the man.

  “Yes, Finn, it is,” she replied, although it didn’t sound like her at all.

  “Elizabeth II is going to be Britain’s last queen.”

  Jennifer’s heart stopped. What on earth were they talking about?

  “Yep,” said Sarah, “and it’s about time too.”

  “But is Miss Morgan sure about this?” said ‘Finn’. “We’re about to assassinate Britain’s longest-serving monarch.”

  Jennifer felt like someone had kneed her in the stomach. Did she just hear that right?

  “What are you, a royalist?” said Sarah. “You know what’s at stake here.”

  “Yes, I do. But surely there’s a solution that doesn’t involve assassinating her. She’s ninety-odd, for God’s sake. How dangerous can she be?”

  “Very. The Queen might be past it physically, but her mind is sharp as anything. And you know she hates Million Eyes. She’s been interfering with our work for years, undermining us at every turn. It’s time we put a stop to it.”

  A bead of sweat dribbled down Jennifer’s side from her left armpit. The blank copy of The History of Computer-Aided Timetabling for Railway Systems shook in her hand.

  “Isn’t there some way we can expose what she’s doing?” said Finn.

  “Not without exposing ourselves, no. Do you think the people of Britain are going to accept that Million Eyes has been secretly controlling their country since the 17th century?”

  Jennifer swallowed hard. The 17th century?

  “No. I suppose not,” said Finn. “But… what about after? After the Queen is dead? Then what?”

  “There’s a plan in place. The government will move to abolish the monarchy and our uneasy alliance with Britain’s capricious kings and queens will end. Million Eyes will take full control of Parliament and Britain will become a republic.”

  “I just think –”

  Sarah snapped, making Jennifer flinch, “Frankly, Finn, you’re not paid to think. You’re paid to do as you’re told. Can you do that or do I need to find someone else?”

  Silence. Jennifer’s shaky right hand, holding the book, froze. Her left hand, which had been twiddling with the cord of her hoody, clenched. Again she held her breath and didn’t move.

  Finn broke the silence, “I’m sorry, Miss Myers. Yes. I can do that.”

  Not being able to see her face, a part of Jennifer had been imagining – or at least hoping – that the woman talking wasn’t Sarah at all, but someone else. After all, she sounded so different. So cold. So austere. Not like her friend. Not like her lovely, caring, hilarious friend.

  But then Finn said Miss Myers and smashed the fantasy.

  “Are you certain?” said Sarah. “I need to know I can count on you, or it’ll be my head on the block as well as yours.”

  “You can count on me, I promise.”

  “I hope so. Just remember why we’re doing this. With the monarchy out of the way, Million Eyes will be able to advance the Mission unimpeded.”

  The Mission? What in the world was the Mission?

  “I understand, Miss Myers.”

  “Good.”

  Sarah spoke like she was role-playing, performing, pretending to be a fictional character who bore no resemblance to her. It was now becoming clear that the Sarah she’d known for over a year was the fictional character, their friendship the performance. None of it was real. None of it.

  Jennifer did misplace her trust. Not in Toasty. In Sarah.

  “You’ll need these,” said Sarah. More shuffling sounds. The swish of more boxes moving on and off shelves. Please, please don’t come round the other side of these shelves. Rustling and clicking. “And this.” Sarah was obviously taking things out of the boxes and handing them to Finn.

  Then she said, “Okay. Come back downstairs and I’ll fit you with a chronode. Then you’ll be good to go.”

  They were leaving. One of them, probably Sarah, switched off the light, plunged Jennifer into darkness. She listened to their clacking footsteps, quietening as they left, turning to creaky thuds as they went back down to the basement.

  Time to g
o.

  Gently as she could, she tiptoed out of the room and across the hallway, slipped out of the still-open front door, let out a huge breath of relief – and ran.

  Ten minutes later, Sarah Myers and Dominic Finn came back up from the basement. Finn was fully briefed and had everything he needed to get started. As they went up the hallway so that Sarah could see Finn out, she wasn’t expecting to find her front door wide open.

  “What?”

  She looked around, stuck her head in the kitchen, then the lounge, then the downstairs toilet, switching on all the lights. No one there. She paced around the hallway, looking for signs of an intruder, and saw that the storeroom door was open wider than she’d left it.

  “Shit!”

  Sarah burst into the storeroom. Finn followed. She switched on the light. Her eyes pored over the room, looking for anything out of place. Every box was perfectly in line with the next – apart from one. The box of covert transcribers.

  Sarah yanked the box off the shelf, threw it down on the floor and flipped off its lid.

  One of the transcribers was missing.

  Sighing heavily, she straightened, felt her whole body tighten, turned and slammed her fist into the wall.

  “What’s going on?” said Finn.

  Sarah didn’t answer. She pulled her phone from her pocket and opened her home CCTV app, which was linked to tiny cameras at the front and rear of her house. Footage from five minutes ago showed Victoria Moore – her ‘friend’ – hotfooting it through the front door.

  “Miss Myers?”

  “Someone I know was here,” said Sarah. “I don’t know how she got in, but she was here. And there’s a transcriber missing, which means she was in this room.”

  “Do you think… she was in here when we were?”

  “I don’t know. Even if she wasn’t, the fact that she was in this room at all is enough.”

  “What do we do?”

  She shot Finn a glare. “What the fuck do you think?”

  28

  Jennifer ploughed through her front door, which crashed against the wall behind, flakes of cream paint flying. She kicked it shut and bolted upstairs.

  “Vicks?” Toasty called from the bedroom. “Is that you?”

  Jennifer tripped over the rug on the landing as she thundered into the bedroom, breathless, strands of hair stuck to her clammy cheeks.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Toasty asked, jumping out of bed in just her pants.

  She tried to catch her breath. “It’s Sarah. She – she’s –”

  “She’s what?” Toasty’s eyes went to the book, still in Jennifer’s hand. “What’s that?”

  Jennifer didn’t know why she still had it. She remembered there was a bottle of chronozine in her hoody pocket too. What on earth was she going to do with them? She flopped on the bed, chest heaving, and tossed the book to Toasty. “It’s – I don’t even know what the fuck it is. It’s blank. There was a whole box of them in Sarah’s house.”

  “Sarah’s house? What were you doing there? You said you were going down to the seafront.”

  Jennifer shook her head. “Doesn’t matter.” She remembered something that still didn’t add up about all this – the texts. The texts Sarah sent her, asking her to come round, saying she’d discovered something about Toasty. Sarah clearly had no idea Jennifer was in the house, nor did it sound like she was expecting her, even though – also inexplicably – she’d left the front door open.

  Frowning, Toasty opened the book, leafed through it quickly. “No, it isn’t.”

  “Isn’t what?”

  “Blank. It isn’t blank. Not all of it, anyway. Look.”

  Toasty handed the book back to Jennifer. What the fuck? The opening pages were now filled with text. But she could’ve sworn…

  Jennifer read the text.

  Dominic Finn: I remember my mother telling me about the coronation. My grandfather got the family a TV just so they could watch it. [11-second pause.]

  Sarah Myers: What? [3-second pause.] What is it?

  Dominic Finn: This is really happening, isn’t it.

  Sarah Myers: Yes, Finn, it is.

  Dominic Finn: Elizabeth II is going to be Britain’s last queen.

  Jennifer remembered what it said on the box. Covert transcribers. Of course! They weren’t books at all, not really. They were transcription devices, albeit futuristic ones – but nothing surprised her about Million Eyes anymore.

  Jennifer handed the book back to Toasty. “Read it.”

  “Okay…”

  Jennifer watched Toasty read, eyes squinted with confusion, cheeks reddening with growing horror.

  “What? They’re going to assassinate the Queen? Who are?” She looked at Jennifer for an answer.

  “Keep reading.”

  Toasty resumed reading and a moment later her eyes snapped wide. “Million Eyes?” Her eyes darted through the rest of the text, then shifted to Jennifer. “What is this? Is this a joke?”

  “I wish it was.”

  “But I don’t understand. This looks like… like a transcript of a conversation. Why is this in here? In some book about computers and railways?”

  “The book’s a decoy. It’s a covert transcription device. I just heard that conversation – about ten minutes ago – and the book transcribed it.”

  Toasty looked at her like she was mad. “Are you telling me this book can, what, write itself?”

  “Yes.”

  Toasty gave a mocking laugh. “I’m sorry – have I stumbled into Harry Potter or something?”

  Jennifer grabbed the book off her and flicked to the last page of text. As she expected, the words Toasty had just spoken were typing themselves onto the page.

  Toasty Clements: I’m sorry. Have I stumbled into Harry Potter or something?

  Jennifer was about to hand the book back to Toasty so she could see for herself. She hesitated when she saw her own words recorded above Toasty’s.

  The book had identified her as Jennifer Larson, not Victoria Moore.

  Fuck.

  “What?” said Toasty, noting that Jennifer had gone quiet. “Is it recording what we’re saying right now?”

  Jennifer swallowed and shook her head, shutting the book quickly. “No. It’s stopped.”

  Toasty started pacing around the room, breathing heavily and shaking her head in disbelief. “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s technology the public don’t know about,” said Jennifer. “Million Eyes have plenty of it, trust me.”

  “But it says… it says Sarah was saying those things. Sarah Myers. Our Sarah.”

  Jennifer shook her head. “I don’t think she was ever our Sarah.”

  “But she was talking about assassinating the Queen. Bringing down the monarchy. And… what? Million Eyes have been controlling the country for four hundred years?”

  “Yes. This transcript is evidence that Million Eyes…”

  Hang on a minute.

  Evidence. The transcript was evidence that Million Eyes had been controlling the government since the 17th century and were conspiring to assassinate the Queen to preserve their power. It was something that, if publicised, would devastate Million Eyes, which made it something they would try and retrieve at all costs.

  This was the book Gregory Ferro was looking for. The book that led Million Eyes to travel back in time and radically alter history.

  Jennifer’s mind raced. Did that make sense, though? All of that already happened, but the transcript had only just been made. How could it already be a part of history?

  Wibbly wobbly timey wimey. The words of the Tenth Doctor had never rung truer.

  “Vicks – what is it?” said Toasty.

  “Ssshh. Wait. Let me think.”

  Alright, let’s try and figure this out. If the book was already part of history, did that mean it was inevitable that it was going to end up in the past, chased across time by Million Eyes? Or could Jennifer, in theory, destroy the book right now and undo all of
history as it now stood?

  She couldn’t destroy it, though. How could she? It was evidence of Million Eyes’ treason, evidence that democracy in Britain was a sham. It was what she needed to get her life back from those bastards. She’d been devoid of ideas on how to deal with Million Eyes ever since she ran away. Now a bomb that could blow them all to hell had fallen right into her lap.

  “Vicks, talk to me!” said Toasty.

  “We have to get this book out in the open,” said Jennifer. “I’m not sure how but the whole world needs to know about this.”

  “Shouldn’t we give it to the police?”

  “We can’t trust the police, Toasty. I was told once that Million Eyes have people inside the police.”

  “Told by who?”

  “That doesn’t matter. The point is, Million Eyes have people everywhere. Finding out that Sarah’s one of them has just proven that.”

  “There’s got to be some explanation. I know Sarah. She’s one of my closest friends.”

  “You thought you knew her. So did I.”

  “Vicks, no. I don’t believe it. It’s totally insane.”

  Jennifer took a deep breath. Should she tell her? Should she tell Toasty what Million Eyes did to her? Was it time she came clean?

  Toasty deserved the truth. She shared everything with Jennifer, but Jennifer had always kept her at arm’s length. On all her down days, when she missed her mum, her sister, Adam, she just fobbed Toasty off. And Toasty knew she was being fobbed off. Of course she did. But she put up with it.

  “Toasty, I need to tell you –”

  A forceful knock at their front door cut her off. She glanced at her bedside clock – 10.43pm.

 

‹ Prev