Even so, Olive has never forgotten the lesson Creda learnt: don’t do anything that the Network doesn’t allow. But as soon as she was given freedom to live alone, Olive had made sure she couldn’t conceive. She kept it secret from her handler, and the issue had never been raised of her viability, because her role was as a killer, not a breeder.
Now she has children to care for anyway. ‘Care’ being a loose phrase that she bandies about in the meetings she has with the trainers. She will see this batch of trainees through to their first assignments, and then they’ll move on to the next house. After that, the guards and the head teacher will change and the new influx will be someone else’s problem. It’s always the way in the house and the Network. In her own mind, she makes things better for the trainees now. It’s all she can do to make sure she sleeps at night. Olive hopes to leave this new legacy in place. But she has to hold it together in the meantime. She has to make it through the next ten years.
Adrenaline floods through her veins at the thought of real freedom. Olive walks around her office, trying to relieve the tension that Simone started and which her memories now compound, but it doesn’t work. There’s only one way to feel better and that’s to go to the shooting range.
From her weapons chest she takes her automatic crossbow and arrows. This has always been her weapon of choice; all of the operatives have them, but most like the finality and ease of a gun. Olive loves to watch the movement in the air when she releases an arrow, and that fierce and intrusive thump as it hits home. That sound, like the last beat of a heart, eases the pain inside her. Pain that she refuses to acknowledge in any other way.
Locking her office door, she walks around the staircase and heads towards the back of the house where the range is located in a long extension. As she passes the security room, something smacks hard against the door.
Olive freezes. She considers raising the alarm, but instead her training kicks in. She becomes calm and she loads her crossbow. She’s been ready for this, ever since she heard Michael was coming in. She doesn’t know Neva, and her file is closed to all but those who need to see it, but this has to be her. From what she was told, Neva is the best they’ve ever had. Olive is determined to be the one to bring her down. Surely that will count for something with Beech? Maybe she’ll even make committee level after this?
She waits by the door, bow raised.
Chapter Seventy-One
Neva
As the door opens, Neva hears a familiar hum as the air shifts. She heaves herself aside a split second before an arrow flies into the room. Even as more arrows follow, she weaves forward, deftly avoiding being hit. The security guard behind her isn’t so lucky and an arrow thuds into his leg.
The arrows stop and Neva draws the gun from the small of her back as Olive frantically pulls at the trigger of the jammed crossbow. As Neva’s and Olive’s eyes meet, Olive’s expression changes. She stops trying to shoot. She takes a step back.
‘No! You’re hers. You can’t be!’
Olive lowers the crossbow, shaking her head.
Neva looks at the woman, her gun held steady, pointing at her chest. Even as she expects the alarm to be raised by the commotion they’ve caused, she waits to hear what Olive will say next.
‘I suppose I’m on your target list,’ Neva prompts.
‘You’re her daughter. I never knew.’
‘You know who my mother is?’
Olive nods.
‘Who are you?’ Neva says.
‘Olive. I’m the headteacher here.’
Neva’s face hardens. ‘Then I’m going to kill you.’
Olive raises the crossbow between them. ‘Wait! I can help you.’
‘Why would you?’
Olive shakes her head. She looks confused, frightened. ‘I don’t know. But I feel I have to. She staggers back against the wood panelling surrounding the staircase. Tears flow down her cheeks. ‘I’m … broken. It hurts!’
Neva watches. She can almost hear the snap as the Network’s control over Olive ends.
Olive lets the crossbow drop to the hardwood floor. The loud clatter echoes through the hallway. Her hands fly to her head as though she has a headache and then a soft moan escapes her lips and builds into a cry of pure anguish.
Neva understands this moment – this feeling of breaking apart as you fight against everything that they made you become. She feels a further crack in the cold place of her own heart. Olive is shaking and no longer a danger. But how can she be trusted? This could all be an act to get Neva to lower her guard.
Neva steps out of the security room and casts a glance either side. There is no one around. Olive’s fall hasn’t been heard. Neva stands over her as the woman becomes a blubbering wreck.
She considers shooting her and ending her misery but such a kill would be rash and pointless. Olive has information that Neva needs. Her mind is in turmoil, torn by this difficult decision. To destroy Olive will finish the house. But why is she here if not to save someone? The children, yes, but what about this woman, faced as she is with some inner torment that has broken the conditioning?
Neva grabs Olive’s arm. ‘Come on. Let’s get the children and get out of here. This ends now!’
Olive nods but she’s shaking and in shock.
‘Hold it together,’ Neva says. ‘You can do this, Olive. You’re broken but you’re alive!’
Glancing around, Neva pulls the security room door closed.
‘Is Michael still with Beech?’
‘Yes,’ Olive says, her voice breaking.
Neva picks up the crossbow. She unblocks it and then presses it back into Olive’s hands. ‘The only way to be free is to take down your handler. You’ve been questioning your life a long time, haven’t you? It’s time to end this.’
Olive shakes her head in denial. ‘I can’t.’
‘I can,’ says Neva. ‘And you will too if you want to be free.’
Holding Olive’s arm, Neva leads her back around to where she heard Beech’s voice. This time she knows he will have no effect on her.
‘He’s in there, I know,’ Neva says.
Olive is shivering, in shock, and incapable of speech. But she still manages a nod.
Neva reaches for the study door as Michael opens it.
‘Michael?’ she says.
‘Don’t, he’ll be—’ Olive gasps at her side.
Michael lifts a gun and fires.
Neva pushes Olive aside and dives at Michael. They grapple. His knee jerks up into her side, winding her. Neva staggers back. Olive backs away; the crossbow is up in front of her.
‘Amelie!’ screams a voice.
Simone Arquette throws herself in front of Neva. Michael fires again. The bullet hits Simone. Her hands fly to her stomach. She looks at Michael and then crumples down on the floor between him and Neva. Blood pours from the wound, but Neva doesn’t bend to see if Simone is alive because it’s crucial that she doesn’t take her eyes from Michael.
‘Michael,’ Neva says, ‘This isn’t you. Please. Listen. They’ve sparked your conditioning but you can fight it. Remember all of yourself, not just this part.’
Michael levels the gun at Neva.
‘Wait!’ says Beech. He comes out of the room and looks around at the carnage. ‘I’m afraid Michael can’t break free, my dear. He’s been activated with a deeply embedded word that only I know, which means he’ll fight until I stop him. You’ve caused me a great deal of trouble these last few months, Neva. Operatives are dead because of you. My organisation’s work has been disrupted and we’ve lost the support of politicians that were once very firmly in my pocket. I can get that back, but I have to make a clear example of you. And as for you, Olive, what a disappointment after all my confidence in you! Of course, I can’t say I’m surprised. You were always substandard material. Even to Creda.’
‘Michael?’ Neva ignores Beech’s speech and focuses on Michael. He is indifferent, cold. She’s seen this killer side of him briefly before and now she doe
sn’t have the element of surprise to take him down.
‘Kill her, Michael,’ Beech says.
The weapon moves up, levelling with her chest as Michael aims his killing shot. Then Neva notices a bead of sweat dripping down Michael’s face. He’s trying.
‘Only you can do this,’ she says. ‘Break away, Michael.’
‘I said, kill her!’ Beech orders. His voice is sharper, higher pitched than usual, and shows an element of hysteria. His personal weakness leaks through.
Neva knows then that Beech is afraid. It strengthens her resolve to pull Michael from his clutches, to save the children, and even Olive too. All is not lost and for the first time in her life a new emotion works its way into her chest and stomach. A feeling of warmth, of … hope. For the future is still not set and she can still walk away from this. She even risks a glance at Simone Arquette.
When Michael doesn’t comply, Beech reaches for the gun. He tries to pry it from Michael’s hand and then there is a hard, sharp thrum as something zings through the air towards them. Beech staggers back, releasing the gun. Michael turns it towards him. Both he and Neva see the crossbow arrow that’s buried in Beech’s side.
Using his other hand, Michael forces the hand holding the gun down.
‘It’s over … Beech,’ Michael says, his voice forced and struggling against the conditioning. ‘You corrupt bastard!’
Beech slides down the wall, feet splayed, hands on the arrow. He tugs at it.
‘What’s that sound?’ Olive says.
Michael glances at her, then back at Beech.
‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ Michael says. ‘You’ll do more damage and you’ll bleed out faster.’
‘I didn’t think you cared, dear boy,’ Beech says.
There is a loud whirring sound, like a tornedo is taking up outside the building.
‘I don’t. But that sound you hear is Archive arriving here in helicopters with a SWAT team. I called this in when I arrived. I’d like to see you brought to justice.’
A gurgling, blood-filled chuckle slips from Beech’s lips. He tries once more to tug out the arrow but the strength is no longer in his hands. His breath rasps in his chest.
Neva bends down and examines Simone. ‘She’s dead.’
‘I’m sorry. His control was too strong,’ Michael says.
‘I think she was my mother,’ Neva says.
‘I suspected as much,’ Michael says. ‘Olive? Where is she?’
Neva looks around. ‘She’s slipped away. Good for her.’
‘Good for her? She was running this place.’
‘Do you think she had any more choice than you did when you fired at Simone?’ Neva says.
‘Oh God! What a mess,’ Michael says.
Gunfire starts outside. They hear shouts and cries as the last remaining security guards are taken down.
‘I need to get out of here too,’ Neva says.
‘I can help you. Get you immunity from prosecution.’
‘How will you manage that? No one but us will understand how hard it is to resist the Network.’
‘Exactly. I can tell them, from my own experience.’
‘Michael, the last thing you should do is admit you’ve been a double agent. Even though you couldn’t help it,’ says Neva.
The front doors burst open and Michael turns, holding his hands up in the air as the SWAT team pours in.
‘I’m Security Agent Michael Kensington!’ he calls. ‘I’m holding a gun but I’m going to put it down.’ Michael bends and lowers the gun to the floor and then he stands again, hands held up.
‘Michael, look out!’ calls Ray Martin.
Beech snatches up the gun. Michael sees the man aim and he throws himself aside and then there is a barrage of automatic gunfire. Michael is deafened by the shots, and he watches Beech jerk and twitch as each bullet penetrates his body. The gun falls from Beech’s lifeless fingers and skitters across the floor.
‘Neva!’ Michael calls, looking around to see if she was caught in the crossfire.
But she’s nowhere to be seen.
Chapter Seventy-Two
Michael
‘So, you’re saying that Neva was Simone Arquette’s daughter Amelie? That Arquette was willingly involved with the disappearance and grooming of her own child, and so are the parents of all the other missing children?’ Ray says.
We are back at Archive. After the SWAT team arrived, I was bundled into one of the helicopters and brought back. They told me they found all the children and some arrests were made.
I’m now in an interview room with Ray and Beth and they’ve been grilling me for what seems like hours. I’m tired but all I want to do is tell them the truth.
I nod. ‘This thing has been going on for years. People exchanging power and wealth for their children. Though in some cases it might only be one parent involved and not the other. Ambassador Arquette isn’t involved. I know that much.’
‘That’s like a fairy tale or something, Mike,’ Beth says. ‘One I read to my kids, like Rapunzel.’
‘It may seem far-fetched but people have done worse for money,’ I say. How can they possibly understand how real this is to me? And how awful. ‘My own godfather was running this thing. My parents were both involved. In fact, they weren’t my real parents at all. But I didn’t know. My whole life … it’s been a lie. I don’t even know who my real parents were.’
‘Okay,’ says Ray. ‘We’ve been through that, and I sympathise, Mike. We’re going to sort this out. But what you’re telling us is wrong. Neva isn’t Amelie.’
‘What do you mean?’ I ask.
‘She isn’t Arquette’s daughter, though she does look like her.’
‘But…’ I say, ‘Simone saved Neva’s life. She believed—’
‘We found this on Olive Redding’s desk,’ Ray interrupts.
Ray places a brown folder in front of me. I open it and begin to read the contents.
‘Amelie died during the first week of her conditioning,’ Ray explains, even though I can see this for myself. ‘It seems she had a heart condition. She was a premature baby. There were complications that the parents hadn’t known about. The poor kid couldn’t take the drugs and hypnosis. They killed her.’
I put the folder aside. I feel sick. I know I saw Neva back in the house when I was there for a few short weeks of initial conditioning. They were calling her Amelie. I remembered it all once I entered the place. It had given me physical pain. I knew her then; she’d tried to warn me. Somehow, despite the circumstances, we’d been friends. But regardless of wishing we had resolved her parentage, she wasn’t the girl in the photograph I’m now looking at. Similar – very similar – but not the same.
‘If she isn’t Amelie, who is she?’ I ask.
‘The file just admits they brought in a replacement. It seems that they were afraid to let Beech know the girl had died. I’m combing missing persons to find out who she was but I’ve had no luck so far,’ Beth says.
‘Mike, you’re going to have to be detained until we can straighten this out. You see, we found some very irregular activity on your computer. You understand how this goes, don’t you? You need to tell us the whole truth,’ Ray says.
I sigh and rub my hand across his forehead. It’s been a long day and still I can’t get them to understand how I didn’t know about my involvement. Will this ever end?
But I know now what they found. I was changing records, making Ray and Beth appear guilty, directing the heat away from myself. It was me that sent that initial email cancelling Sharrick’s toxicology, though I made it seem as though it was from Ray. Then at some point, too, I’d also put things in Beth’s reports that would make Ray worry about her ability to work on the case, all designed so he would give the case to me. And the other me would have made sure it was never solved. Beth was getting too close to the truth; she’d found a link between Arquette and one of the other parents, an old photograph of them together at school. So, while I thought she w
asn’t doing anything, she was just keeping this knowledge close to her chest until she had all the evidence she needed.
‘I’m willing to do what I can to help you bring the Network down. Start at Beech’s company offices… Here’s what I remember of my visits there…’
Chapter Seventy-Three
Michael
I’ve been in custody for a couple of months. They don’t tell me much about the ongoing investigation, but Ray has said they found the documentation I told them about at Beech’s offices. He’s implied, but not said, that they have SWAT teams taking out several locations in the UK, and Interpol are involved for those locations in Europe.
‘We know more about your real parentage,’ Ray told me soon after they’d brought me to this facility. They’d found a file on Olive’s desk that told them everything about my conditioning. ‘They used a surrogate mother. Unnamed. And you were left with her for the first few years of your life. Then you were handed to the house. Beech was your biological father.’
I’d taken this information in and tried to recall before but nothing came to me. Perhaps they had successfully erased all recollection of the woman who’d raised me in the beginning. Was she nurturing? Loving? Did she cry as Simone Arquette collected me and took me, with Amelie, to the house of killers?
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