Insequor

by Richard Murphy

  Daniel had only ever been to one major city in his entire life when, as a teenager, he’d taken a trip to New York. London was totally different; some of it looked so old. Gnarled stone facades and twisted towers shuffled up alongside glass skyscrapers and concrete blocks. Rounding the corner, he was surprised to be greeted by high ornate iron gates guarding the entrance to an enormous park.

  “Where’s this?” he asked, his accompanying shadow.

  “Hyde Park, sir.”

  He crossed the road, narrowly missing a bright red bus and headed in. Behind him, the Secret Service agent spoke into a walkie-talkie.

  “Daffy Duck is out with Minnie Mouse. Entering the park, secure.”

  Daffy Duck? Minnie Mouse? Those must be the codenames being used, he thought, wondering who was who.

  The air felt good, the breeze washing up his legs pressing his pants down before hurtling over his chest and face. The trees rustled around him and a lake bounced back the sky’s light. They walked for a good hour, Daniel exploring every corner of the park, the agent following at a discrete distance.

  When they turned back they came up another street; this one was full of stores, boutiques and other places selling crap people didn’t need. Something across the road though caught his eye; two words. “Killer Robot.”

  They were on a sandwich board outside some convenience store. He walked across, the traffic was at a standstill and he slipped through a couple of cars. The sandwich board was promoting a newspaper, but the words were crystal clear, “Killer robot attacks America!”

  He stepped down into a bright cavern decorated in potato chips and candy bars. As he made his way through the aisles of foil and plastic treats he scanned the newspapers. At the end he picked four or five of them up and handed over the money to the bemused looking man behind the counter. As the guy sifted through to get the prices Daniel read each headline in turn; the robot’s face staring back at him from different angles and shots.

  “Six fifty, mate.”

  He dug into his pockets, looking for the money when he realised he had none. He felt his cheeks burn but from nowhere Daffy (or Minnie?) produced a note and then he was ushered out.

  He folded the papers under his arm, almost hiding them like pornography. Was he ashamed? They set off back to the hotel with Daniel setting a brisk pace. He went straight through the lobby and back up to his suite where he dropped them on the table and started to read. And read.

  Was it a terrorist attack? Was it the North Koreans? Was it a weapon that was out of control? Most of the papers had supplements and there were lots of pictures; some so close up it made him shudder just to look at them.

  Editorials pondered over the meaning for humanity itself. Some questioned what, if anything, could be really done. Another pointed to the veil of secrecy seemingly to have been erected by the United States government. He sat back and put the paper in his hand down as his mind started whirling. He dialled room service and ordered some coffee.

  It wasn’t long before Brooks arrived, a polite knock before he let himself in, wheeling a trolley. Daniel gestured at the table where the papers were strewn. “Over there, please.”

  “No problem.”

  At the table Brooks laid out a cafetière, a plate of cookies, some hot milk and a fine china cup. As he started to turn away he looked up at Daniel and caught his eye, before nodding back at the table.

  “Been reading about the robot, eh?”

  Daniel froze, unnaturally. It was only a split second and nobody else in the room would have noticed, but they both knew it.

  Brooks brought the trolley to a halt and stood up straight. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

  He said nothing, but shook his head slightly.

  “It is.” Brooks looked at him; through him really.

  “It’s okay,” said Brooks. “I can help.”

  Daniel started to talk but found only air coming out of his mouth.

  “I just need to talk to you,” said Brooks, as he softly walked to the table. “Let’s have a coffee.”

  He watched as the porter sat himself down and started to pour; another cup had appeared from somewhere. His arms started to move forward in his shoulder sockets, willing him to sit at the table.

  “You need to talk to someone,” said Brooks.

  Chapter 17

  The coffee was hot, strong and aromatic. He snapped a cookie and it crunched satisfyingly in his mouth mixing in to create a delicious hot sugary mush.

  “They’re Secret Service, aren’t they?” said Brooks.

  “Who?”

  “Those men with you. They’re not your bodyguards.”

  “They might be,” said Daniel. “I don’t know. CIA. NSA. Who knows?”

  “So tell me,” said Brooks, “who are you really?”

  Daniel sighed and looked down at the carpet. Toby had said he shouldn’t speak to anyone. Jones had warned him too but it felt good to chat to somebody who wasn’t involved. Someone from the other side of the world. Someone who didn’t work for the government.

  “My name is Daniel Loman and I’m an ordinary guy but it’s me the thing’s after. Nobody knows why.” He felt his chest ease, air pour out of his lungs.

  Brooks shot forward. “It’s following you?”

  He nodded. “I don’t know why, before you ask. I’m not important. I don’t work for the military or government. I work in an office…used to, until the damned thing walked straight through it.”

  “Are we safe?” Brooks looked around the room.

  “Yes. It’s at the bottom of the sea right now. You see it just follows me. Never speeds up, never slows down. Doesn’t stop for anything. Walks through walls, buildings, mountains, oceans. So that’s where they’re planning to keep it right now; at the bottom of the Atlantic. It’s why they’ve flown me over here.”

  “And then what?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. We’re meeting with your government this afternoon, I think.”

  Brooks was staring at him like a kid at a Christmas tree. The two sat in silence for a few moments, neither acknowledging the other. Eventually, Brooks stood up, ran his fingers through his hair and got out his phone.

  “I’m going to call someone, a friend. We have to get your story out there.”

  “No,” said Daniel. “I’m not ready to tell everybody yet. I don’t want to be all over the newspapers and TV.”

  “We have to get your story out there.” Brooks stood up and took off his jacket. He leaned across the table, his breath hitting Daniel in the face; it stank of cigarettes. In his eyes was an intensity that hadn’t been there before.

  “Who are you?” asked Daniel.

  “I’m a reporter,” said Brooks, holding up both hands. “Don’t worry, I’m a good guy. I normally just report on celebrities staying in the hotel; a friend of mine works here. He put me on to you guys when you arrived. I thought you were a movie star.”

  “I think you’d best leave,” said Daniel, getting up. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you.”

  “Now wait a minute, mate,”

  “Don’t make me shout for security.”

  “Okay.” Brooks nodded. The hunger left his eyes and he flattened down his coat. “If you want to talk though.” Brooks handed him a card.

  He felt a chill running down his chest. “Go, now.”

  Brooks turned, took one last look over his shoulder and then walked straight out, leaving the trolley and his jacket; they probably weren’t his anyway.

  As the door closed Daniel slammed his fist on the table. What had he done? A reporter! What would Toby say? What would he do? He could deny it, say the guy must have overheard something, perhaps even bugged the room? Where was the proof?

  He rubbed his hands across his face and looked down at his watch. Not long now before Jones would be back to collect him. He tried to breathe slowly and calm down, but he felt like a child who had been caught doing something very wrong.

  He took a quick shot of whiskey. As it ki
cked, in his mind slowed down and he felt his breath lengthen. For now, he figured, there was nothing he could do. They were off to a meeting, anyway; maybe even leaving the country again. He got changed, brushed his hair back without drying it properly and grabbed his things. Then he sat waiting by the door. It was one o’clock when Toby knocked.

  He was on the phone and flanked by two agents who nodded for Daniel to follow. He walked outside just as Jones emerged from his room quizzically looking to see who had knocked on his door.

  In the elevator he panicked some more about Brooks. What if he slapped a microphone in their faces? Jones was already on to him.

  “You okay?” The old cop smiled and gave him a wink. Toby was on the phone deep in conversation about some coordinates.

  “I need to tell you something,” said Daniel, “but not here.”

  “No problem,” said Jones. “Wait until we get to the car.”

  The elevator doors opened to reveal the lobby which, thankfully, was empty. Toby, still on the phone, strode forward and waved them all after him; his black leather shoes snapping on the marble floor.

  Outside the cars were waiting. Jones and Daniel took the front one, Toby and one of the agents got in the one behind still on his phone. As soon as they turned the first corner Jones spoke, but in a low whisper so as not to alarm the agent in front.

  “The reporter, right?”

  “How did you know?”

  “I’m a cop. What did you tell him?”

  “He asked me who I was, he saw me looking at the newspapers. I told him it was following me.”

  Jones breathed in deep. “We’re going to have to tell Toby. This will change everything for you.”

  The car turned sharply and made its way under a grand stone archway, past some spiralling towers and out along the river. Gradually, the buildings got closer and closer until the sky was practically hidden. They pulled up alongside an enormous white building with grand steps and columns.

  Outside Toby stood still and slipped his mobile phone into his pocket. “It appears we have a problem.”

  “Meaning?” said Jones, unconsciously positioning himself between Toby and Daniel.

  “A reporter has gotten hold of the story. Says he interviewed Daniel. Is this true?”

  They both turned to look at him; Toby with displeasure, Jones with pity.

  “He didn’t interview me. We just talked and I hardly said anything.”

  Without saying a word Toby turned and started to walk inside, taking out his phone again; this time he was texting. Jones put an arm around Daniel and they followed.

  They walked through another palatial reception, except this time there was a metal detector where Jones had to leave his gun. Toby led them upstairs, the two agents with them monitoring the flanks.

  After another metal detector they reached a set of offices. Toby knocked on one and let himself in, beckoning for Jones and Daniel to follow. The agents remained outside.

  Inside was an older gentleman, sporting grey hair and a bushy moustache. He sat at a desk with a laptop; around him were old cabinets and books. The room was big and well lit, with several chairs and a table by the door. The man gestured for them to sit.

  “Toby, how good to see you.”

  “Doctor Perry, it’s been a while. May I introduce Detective Jones and Daniel.”

  The Doctor’s eyes widened as he turned to Daniel. “Ah, the subject.”

  Toby grimaced slightly. “I’m sorry,” he said, “Doctor Perry is forgetting his manners.” He turned back to the Doctor, “Something I thought you English were so fond of?”

  The Doctor nodded before gesturing to the chairs. “I apologise, but must confess I am a little excited.”

  They sat down, Daniel’s chair making a horrible scraping sound as he shuffled under the table. “What’s going on?” he said.

  “We’re here for some tests,” said Toby. “The Doctor will be looking at you physically and mentally; painless and non-invasive.”

  “What kind of tests?”

  Doctor Perry rested his arms on the table. “Just the usual; MRI, CAT and I’ll probably want some fluid samples.”

  “Which ones?” said Jones.

  “All of them.”

  Jones twitched his nose. “Can I ask why this is necessary?”

  The Doctor shrugged, “I want to confirm he is human.”

  “He has a name,” said Daniel. “Toby, I’m not comfortable with this.”

  “Me neither,” said Jones.

  “Gentlemen, please,” Toby caught everyone’s eyes. “I think we’ve got off on the wrong foot. Doctor Perry, you have to understand Daniel is very fragile. We’re all a little nervous in fact. So, your best bedside manner, if you please.”

  The Doctor exhaled, nodded and then went across to the desk. He reached over and picked up a folder and started to leaf through it.

  “According to your medical history you’ve never had any serious illness or surgical procedures. Is this true?”

  “Yes, but how do you know that?”

  “It’s all in your file; your government sent it over this morning.”

  “That figures.”

  Toby hushed a finger to his lips and gave him a friendly wink. “Go on, Doc.”

  “Our primary focus from today is to discover if there is anything unique about you.” The Doctor forced a smile as he looked Daniel up and down.

  “For whatever reason this entity is pursuing you across the globe. We must ask ourselves ‘why?’ We have ruled out your importance, your access to intelligence or top secret information, your very position in life.”

  “He is in the room, you know,” said Jones, shaking his head.

  “I apologise for being frank,” said the Doctor, “but he wants to understand our thinking. Where was I?”

  “You were saying I’m not important in any shape or form,” said Daniel.

  “Ah, yes. So our challenge then is to understand what makes you different to everybody else. Once we rule out the social, political and economic reasons all that remains are the physical differences.”

  Chapter 18

  The examination lasted most of the afternoon. Daniel had been taken through to a clinic, of sorts, that was adjacent to Doctor Perry’s office. He’d had x-rays, MRI scans, some other things he didn’t know and then had samples taken of his hair, blood, urine and even faeces.

  After that they’d measured him, weighed him and then had him on a running machine; his breathing and heart wired up to a computer. Finally, as he got dressed, the Doctor invited him back into his office; Toby and Jones were nowhere to be seen.

  “Please, sit,” said Perry, and Daniel took the seat on the other side of the desk. As the old man leafed through a notebook Daniel looked around at the books on the shelves.

  “What are you a doctor of?”

  Doctor Perry looked up over his reading glasses. “Genetics and Psychology.”

  “That’s a strange combination.”

  “I have strange patients.”

  Perry laid the notebook down, took a pen out of his jacket pocket and leaned back, tapping it against his teeth. “Tell me, about your childhood.”

  “What about it?”

  “Was it normal? Happy? Did you spend a lot of time with your parents?”

  He shook his head. An image flashed before him, two coffins being carried across a cemetery. A young boy holding an old lady’s hand. “No,” he said, “they died when I was a kid.”

  “So who raised you?”

  “My aunt, until she got cancer.”

  “How old were you when she died?”

  “I was twenty-one, just got out of college. She left me some money and an apartment; she didn’t have any kids of her own. I got a job and the rest is history.”

  The Doctor nodded; whether through sympathy or comprehension Daniel couldn’t tell. He wrote some notes and then looked back up, fixing him squarely in the eye.

  “Would you say you have a normal sex life?” />
  Daniel felt his cheeks flush. “Excuse me?”

  The Doctor had gone back to his notes and wasn’t even looking at him. “Your sex life. Is it normal?”

  “Define normal.”

  “Do you have a partner? Do you masturbate regularly? Have you ever had sex with an animal?”

  “No. Yes. No. In that order.”

  The Doctor finished writing before putting the lid back on his pen, slipping it into his tweed jacket and then smiling. “Thank you. Your associates are outside.”

  For a moment he stayed in his seat, Perry had pulled a book down off the shelf and was already cross referencing something with his notes.

  He stood up, waited to see if there was anything else, before letting himself out. In the corridor he found Toby deep in conversation with Jones, the latter getting a little agitated. As soon as they saw him walk out of the door they both lowered their voices.

  Jones strode over and lifted his head back to get a look at him, “You okay?”

  He nodded. “What were you talking about?”

  Jones turned to look at Toby who was back on his phone. “The media’s outside.”

  “How many?”

  “All of them. You’ve been in there for hours.”

  “I won’t have to talk to anyone will I?”

  “No, maybe. Toby’s trying to get a local PR man over to the hotel to coordinate things as he’s not too familiar with the British press.”

  One of the agents gave the order to move and then went ahead along the corridor. Toby and one of the men up front, Daniel and Jones in the middle with another agent behind them. As they got to the lobby and walked through the metal detector the flashes started up outside. Daniel tried to guard his eyes and Jones threw his arm around him. At the door the agents formed a human shield and slowly pushed through the throng.

  People shouted, more cameras flashed and there were even spotlights. People were yelling his name. How did they know his name? The car door was just ahead and he leapt the last few feet and ended up on the back seat. The doors shut and off they sped. When he managed to pull himself up he was surprised to find not Jones, but Toby.

  His dark hair was stuck to the side of his face and his glasses were at an angle. He straightened them and brushed back his curly locks. He put his phone in his pocket and looked down.