by Matt Stark
“Justice for what?”
Her lip curled. “Don’t taunt me, Mr Barrick.”
“I told you I’ve been in prison for the last ten years. I don’t know what happened to your people.”
It was too much to say he wasn’t responsible – after all, he’d never stopped working for MI5.
She looked directly into his eyes for a long moment. He could see how men might fall under her influence. She was beautiful. It was a pity she’d chosen to be a mass murderer.
“Your kind tried to destroy us,” she said.
Images of bodies in Leicester Square and Piccadilly Circus flashed in Sam’s mind. He flicked open the New Dawn file, scattering the horror-show photos on the table.
“It’s you who’s trying to destroy us,” he said, unable to stop his voice shaking.
She didn’t even look at them. Sam hadn’t intended to lose his composure, but the faces of the dead haunted him. He wasn’t naive. He knew the U.K. and U.S. had bombed the hell out of the Middle East in the last few decades, but Al-Qaeda and ISIS had killed just as many.
But Serina wasn’t interested in Sam’s grief.
She leaned forward.
“We just want to be left alone. We have a right to exist as much as you do.”
Sam shook his head.
“We’re not threatening your right to exist.”
She laughed and turned away as if the matter was closed.
Sam tapped his foot.
Silence would do him no good. He had to keep Serina talking. He gestured at the photos of dead men, women and children.
“How can you expect to be left alone when you do this?”
She glanced at them then at Sam.
“How much of our blood have you spilled? Because we’re different, because you don’t understand us, because you think we’ll replace you.”
Sam blinked at Serina. He wasn’t sure where this conversation was going, but she was getting angry. And that was good. The more emotional Serina was, the more likely she’d give something away.
“But you do want to replace us. You want to wipe us off the face of the Earth.” said Sam.
Serina shook her head in disgust. “You bastards all deserve to die.”
Sam snapped. He knew he was supposed to be making Serina angry, not the other way around, but he couldn’t help himself. Anger flared inside him, and before he knew what was happening he’d stood up, thrown the metal desk to one side, and grabbed Serina by the throat. Still gripping her throat he pushed her back hard against the cell wall.
“You bitch,” he whispered. “You are going to talk or I’ll kill you now.”
The heel of Sam’s hand was pressing on Serina’s windpipe, obstructing the flow of air. She turned red, then blue, as she struggled to suck in oxygen. Sam released the pressure a little and she took a big whooping breath in. Pushing his body up against hers he leaned forward and spoke in her ear.
“Where is the attack, Serina? Tell me.”
Sam knew what he was doing wasn’t rational, but he couldn’t help himself. As he pushed her he got a flashback of Deep Throat squeezing the air out of him just like he was doing to Serina. Trying to block the image out Sam pushed harder, blocking off her air supply. She was on the edge now, eyes starting to glaze.
Sam kept his hand on Serina’s throat and his eyes on hers. She bucked and struggled like a stallion at first but as the seconds ticked by her body went limp and the life started to go out of her eyes. The brain could last thirty seconds without oxygen before irreversible brain damage. Sam kept the pressure on. He didn’t want to do this but there was no other option. This was the only thing she would understand.
At twenty-eight seconds he let her breathe. After a moment’s delay she took a great whooping breath in. He was still holding her throat though – he’d only released the pressure enough for her to get a little air.
“Are you going to talk or shall I finish the job, Serina?”
After a few seconds she nodded slightly. Sam’s tight jaw loosened. She was going to talk. Deep down he hadn’t expected violence to work, but maybe he’d misjudged her. He took his hand away from her throat, and waited for the colour to come back into her cheeks and her breathing to steady a little.
“Where is the attack, Serina?”
She opened her mouth to speak but all that came out was a croak. Sam leaned closer, still holding Serina up against the wall. He couldn’t believe she had given in so easily.
“Tell me.”
She met his eye and smiled. “Fuck you.”
Sam lost control. He grabbed Serina’s throat again and pressed. In his mind he was back in China with Deep Throat. Only he was looking through Deep Throat’s eyes – strangely fascinated by the deep blue his skin had turned. He heard Deep Throat’s voice screaming over and over, while he squeezed Sam’s throat. Sam realized what he was doing just before Serina asphyxiated, and snapped his hand away from her throat.
As he did she collapsed to the floor. Sam stood over her body, his arms limp, hands clenching and unclenching, while the image of Deep Throat faded from his mind.
Serina took a big whooping breath. Sam hardly noticed. He felt detached from reality. He’d been inside Deep Throat – looking through his eyes, feeling what he’d felt as he strangled Sam. He’d lost control and nearly killed Serina – their only lead. Peter and Suzie had been right. He wasn’t ready. Not by a country mile. He never would have lost control like this before Beijing. He felt sick. He went to the corner of the room and vomited up the contents of his stomach.
When he turned back Serina was sitting propped against the cell wall. Livid finger-mark bruises covered her throat and her eyes were bloodshot, but she was awake and staring at Sam with utter hatred. She was one very hard woman.
Sam saw now that she’d never been anywhere near breaking. Her hatred for him was too strong. He wished his damn ability was working. If only he could find some way to switch it back on – he could take the information he needed from Serina’s mind. He made his way back to her, not sure what to do now.
I hate norms.
Serina’s words jerked Sam out of his trance. He frowned.
“You hate what?”
I fucking hate norms like you, you son of a bitch.
The only light in the room was the fluorescent strip on the ceiling. It lit up the room pretty well, but Serina was sitting in the shadow cast by Sam’s body as he stood over her – so he couldn’t see her face clearly. For some reason that made him very uneasy.
He bent down, slipped his hands under her arms, and hauled her up into the light – ignoring her groans. When she was vertical, he pushed her against the wall so hard air hissed through her teeth.
“What did you mean, norms?” he repeated.
She looked confused for a second. Just like Peter had earlier.
“What?”
“You said, ‘I hate norms.’”
“No, I didn’t.”
“I heard you clear as day.”
“No,” she hesitated. “I didn’t say it. I thought it.”
There was a very long silence. Both of them seemed to be working out the implications of what Serina had just said. Finally she spoke.
“How did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Read my mind. How did you do it?”
Sam still had Serina pressed up against the wall. He examined her face for any indication she was playing him, but found none. Had he finally got his ability working? He tried to read her mind now and failed. All right then but if she believed he had she might let something slip.
“JIS have been trying to develop telepathic agents for years. And they finally succeeded. Didn’t you know?”
Her eyes widened for a moment then she smiled.
“If you can read my mind tell me what I’m thinking now.”
He couldn’t. He’d no more control over his ability than a blackjack player has on the dealer’s next card. But Serina didn’t know that for sure. She was
rattled because he had read her mind – and he could use that. He leaned forward and spoke quietly into her ear.
“If you don’t tell me what norms mean I’ll dig the information out of your mind by force. And believe me, you really don’t want that.”
“I must have said it – my brain was starved of oxygen.” She spoke in an undertone like she was trying to convince herself.
Sam blew out a hard breath. The clock on the wall ticked loudly and with it the lives of hundreds of innocent people. Scores would die because of this woman. Hundreds more would be maimed – men, woman, children… as a surge of anger hit Sam’s brain he felt that mental switch flick again, and suddenly his mind was full of frantic bees. Countless thoughts from the hundreds of people in Vauxhall Cross buzzed around his head. For a moment he was overwhelmed then he remembered that ticking clock and focussed on Serina. He lifted her chin up, and looked into her eyes.
Irfan, be careful.
It was her voice. She was pleading with someone called Irfan, asking him to be…
No, no, no, no, no.
As Sam tried to hear Serina’s thoughts she’d realized what he was doing and blocked him by repeating the one word over and over. It was a simple technique but effective. Sam couldn’t hear anything past it. He felt like throttling her again – but knew it wouldn’t help.
But his telepathy was still on. He had to make the most of it while he had the chance. Serina hadn’t stopped thinking. No one could do that. Her real thoughts, the ones Sam wanted, were still there behind the mental screen she’d set up. What Sam needed was more power to get past it.
Sam slapped his hand onto Serina’s temple. He didn’t know why but he felt skin contact might give him the boost he needed. It did. When their skin met her protective mantra was blown away and he felt himself dive into her mind and thoughts.
Her eyes were like saucers.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for answers.”
He closed his eyes – feeling her body tense underneath him – and pushed his consciousness into her mind. He wanted to go directly for the attack location, but didn’t know where to start. So he searched for the only link he had – her last thought.
I hate norms.
He pushed into her mind getting nothing. She squirmed under him, her voice tight with fear now.
“Stop it. You have no right.”
He pushed on. Digging. It was the first time he had really tried to force his ability and it hurt. His head throbbed. But he could feel the power inside him – sluggish but there. He kept half-getting something, but then it would slip away. It was Serina; she was resisting. He’d overpowered her – but not enough to clearly hear what she was thinking. He was trying to hear thoughts – but couldn’t. All he was getting were fragments of memories, pictures. And that phrase. I hate norms – repeated like a mantra.
At one point she spoke.
“How are you doing this really?”
“I told you I’m a product of the JIS telepathy programme.” It was a good a lie as any.
He had hold on both sides of her face now, so she couldn’t turn away if she wanted to. But she’d stopped squirming. She was staring at him like he’d grown a set of horns,
“You’re him, aren’t you?”
“What?” said Sam, aware of the clock ticking behind him. He couldn’t afford to waste time chit-chatting. He needed to find out what this woman knew.
“You’re him.”
“Who?” he said, unable to stop himself.
“You’re Sam Barrick. The first post-human. You’re just like me. You’re one of us.”
***
He didn’t know what she was talking about, but it didn’t matter. He closed his eyes and searched her mind again, pushing her resistance aside.
“No – please. How can you?”
Sam ignored her, and pushed. Then he saw a young Arab man with dark brown eyes like Serina. Her brother Irfan. Serina was strapping something to his chest. Sam couldn’t see what it was. There were tears in Serina’s eyes. She… Serina’s brother was the bomber.
“You bastard!” she screamed, and jerked away from Sam’s grip. “You have betrayed your people.”
Sam saw her jaw clench too late. She bit down on the pill Sam knew was embedded in her tooth, and as her face went white and then red, he screamed; “No!”
In his mind’s eye he saw the pill break open, and toxic gas spill out. Her jaw spasmed, and she fell to the floor, her legs and arms jerking and foam pouring from her mouth.
Sam watched Serina’s body spasm. She was dying with information that could save hundreds, perhaps thousands of people. He couldn’t let that happen. He had to know where Irfan was going.
When he bent down and touched her arm he saw, in his mind’s eye, the poison passing down her gullet into her stomach. Some of it had seeped through her gums into her blood and reached her brain. She’d be dead in seconds, and the location of the attack would die with her. For now it was still lodged in her brain. He had a window of opportunity.
The jerking of her body was becoming weaker. Her heartbeat was weak and irregular, and her breathing shallow. She was still doing both for herself, so there was no point in jumping on her chest or giving her the kiss of life. But as soon as the poison in the walls of her heart reached a critical threshold she’d have a cardiac arrest. The only way stop it was an antidote, but there was no antidote for cyanide. She was going to die with the attack location in her brain, unless Sam could do something incredible.
He reached forward and placed his hand on her head, knowing he only had seconds. Her thoughts were jumbled, chaotic. He didn’t know if the chaos was from his inability to see clearly what she was thinking, from his being overwhelmed by seeing into another person’s mind, or from the rancid poison he could feel washing through her body. Whatever the reason, it would make finding the attack location even more difficult. One image after another flashed through his mind. Her husband and daughters at a birthday party, and later her hiding out in a single room, then running holding her daughters’ hands with her husband behind them, shooting at their pursuers. Then the rattle of an automatic weapon and screams; first his, then both girls’. Finally their bloodstained, torn bodies lying on the ground. He felt her pain as if it was his own. It was so real it almost overwhelmed him. With a superhuman effort, he pushed the thoughts aside. He couldn’t get distracted. He had to find the attack location. Somewhere in Serina’s mind was the name of the place she’d sent her brother, Irfan, to kill and maim.
Sam saw Irfan appear in his mind’s eye, but the image was still blurred. All he could tell was that he was an Arabic male of average size. As he did he felt what was left of Serina resist – trying to hide her thoughts. But she was too weak. A mental video started. Serina was reassuring Irfan, tears in her eyes. Sam felt her pain in his chest. She’d already lost so many of her family, and now she was having to lose another. He wondered how she could do this. But she had an iron will. She was determined and full of hatred. The movie stuttered to a stop.
Where? asked Sam.
Serina’s life was ebbing away – and with it the chance to stop her brother. Somewhere he was walking into a densely populated area carrying a bomb, which he was very soon going to explode. Suddenly the video started again. Sam saw Irfan. He was walking, carrying the bomb, sweating and looking very nervous. He was walking into a station. Sam couldn’t recognise it.
There was a very heavy bang on the door. And the sound of a saw.
“Sam, stop this. Let us in. Stop this now.”
Peter and Suzie. Sam ignored them. He closed his eyes and focussed on the image in his mind’s eye. His viewpoint had changed. He was looking through Irfan’s eyes now. Look up, he thought. Just look up.
Then the young man did exactly that. Sam clenched his fist then stood up just as a rectangular section of the door fell through. A very pissed-off Peter stepped through the hole.
“The attack is at Waterloo Station,” said Sam
. “It’s a suicide bomber, like the other attacks. He’s there now.”
Chapter 17
“What you did is unforgivable.”
Sam was in the back of Peter’s Jag with Peter and Suzie, racing to Waterloo. Peter had gotten on his cell the second Sam broke the news about Waterloo. He’d arranged for JIS’s Special Forces wing to be at the station, and put a call out for any other available agents. Then he’d bundled Suzie and Sam out of Serina’s cell down to the executive car park in the basement and into his private Jag. His driver had been waiting for them with the engine running – and once his passengers were aboard he’d shot off like a bat out of hell.
Sam flicked a tired glance at Peter.
“I know.”
Since they’d left Vauxhall Cross Serina’s words had been spinning around his mind like a washing machine on overdrive. You’re one of us. A post-human just like us.
Peter hadn’t told him that. No, it was worse that than. He’d made damn sure Sam hadn’t known New Dawn were post-humans. He’d done such a good job that Sam hadn’t been able to believe it – not at first. But he’d read Serina’s mind. He’d seen the truth in her eyes. There was no denying it or its implications. Peter and maybe Suzie had lied to him. They didn’t trust him. And maybe with good reason. If New Dawn were post-human – his people – then how could they trust him? Sam didn’t even know where his loyalties lay. His memory had been wiped. He’d just assumed he was one of the good guys but how did he know for sure? He’d assumed he was a straightforward JIS agent – loyal to Queen and country or at least to the Agency. But what if his loyalties lay elsewhere? What if he was a mutant terrorist trying to destroy humanity?
Trying to ignore Peter, Sam rubbed the palm of his hand back and forth against his face as if he could wipe away this awful mess and start again. He felt Suzie reach over and squeeze his wrist – felt her concern for him through her touch – and realized he didn’t know anything for sure. Serina might have believed she was telling the truth about New Dawn’s being post-human but that didn’t mean she was. And even if she was, that didn’t mean Sam was a traitor. It didn’t mean he had betrayed the people – the woman – he loved. Nothing was certain – and until it was, he had hope.