by Jule Owen
So why have I gone along with all of this? Why have I not said anything before? I have a son. I parent him alone and have done for the last two years. I am solely responsible for him. I need this job. But now you are asking me to work on human grade biological agents. You are asking me to be prepared to take this change in focus as quietly as I have taken the other changes. And I can’t.
I am asking you to find a way for me to continue to do useful work at Panacea without me having to do work that compromises my values and my beliefs. I hope you can find a way.
Truville takes a day to respond:
As you rightly predicted, I was puzzled by your note. We are at war. We know our country has been - is being - attacked in an undeclared biological offensive that affects our ability to grow food and potentially by biological weapons, as in the recently reported strange events in Amach. The fact you have willingly participated in Project Green Fairy for the last eighteen months makes this note from you all the more surprising. That said, we have worked together many years and I personally have no wish to make you do anything against your will. With that in mind, I have spoken to human resources and to my immediate management.
They reminded me, our division is resource constrained and under pressure to fight a dishonest war on a front that is not always clear. I was asked to point out that you have access to highly classified information and asked to remind you that your loyalty is a matter of national security.
The HR Director pointed out to me that you never took advantage of the professional counselling and mood alteration drugs on offer after your husband’s death. I have been instructed to tell you that an appointment has been made for you with our in-house psychiatrist Dr Fabian and you will be expected to attend the appointment as a condition of your employment. We all sincerely hope that this support will help you through your current crisis.
Mathew’s mother responds:
James, Thank you for your concern and your understanding. Please pass on my thanks to the Director of HR and to your superiors. However, I do not need mood alteration drugs or counselling to alter my conscience. I know all too well that the department is constrained and there is a war on. At the same time, I do not believe I am the right person to do the work you need done. It is with deep regret that I resign my position. I believe I need to give three months’ notice.
The response is copied to Truville but comes from the director of HR, a man called Williams:
Dear Hoshi, James Truville passed us your note. I’m not sure you recollect the new contract you signed along with the Official Secrets Act, two summers ago. You may not remember the details clearly because of the unfortunate events that took place for you personally at that time, so I will remind you. Here’s the relevant paragraph:
‘All employees of Panacea [henceforth in this document known as ‘The Company”] who have been required to sign the Official Secrets Act require permission from the Secretary of State and the Director of SIS to resign. Requests should be pre-approved by the relevant divisional HR Director.’
I regret to inform you, given the circumstances, that at this time we are unable to consider your resignation. We will of course revisit the decision at the end of the current international crisis. For now, we would like to reiterate the support on offer to you. Your appointment with Dr Fabian still stands. I would personally urge you to attend. Should you have any more questions regarding this matter, please do not hesitate to come to me directly.
Mathew falls asleep with the documents still broadcasting in his X-Eyte.
DAY THIRTY-SIX: Monday 27th December 2055
In the morning, the fire is dead. His blanket has slipped from him in the night, and he is woken by the cold. It is still dark, but he hears his father moving about in the cabin, his feet in boots loud upon the bare wooden floor. He comes into the room.
“Morning,” he says. “Are you awake?”
“Yes,” Mathew sits up, gathering the blanket around him.
“Cold?”
Mathew nods.
Soren comes over to the fire and, raking out the cold ashes from the day before, he sets a new one and gets the kindling ablaze. “Soon be warm again,” he says and he reaches across and touches Mathew on the head, the way he used to.
Mathew smiles, but then says, “I read those documents last night.” He looks at his father. “You were right. I am sorry.”
“It isn’t me you should say sorry to.”
“I think it is.”
“Tell the people of the town.”
“How?”
“Find a way,” Soren stands up. “Now, do you want some breakfast?” The big man grabs the kettle and goes off to fetch some water from the kitchen. “I’m not cooking for you; come here and help!” he yells through the door.
And Mathew gets to his feet and goes to his father.
They toast bread over the fire for breakfast and eat it with jam, butter and milk-less hot tea. Soren says, “You have to go back today.”
“But why? I’d rather stay here with you.”
“And I’d rather have you here with me. But the town is crawling with Elgol surveillance. We’re lucky no one noticed your absence yesterday, but if you’re gone too long, they will find out and come looking for you. You’re chipped, aren’t you?”
Mathew nods.
“Ju Shen said you were. In which case, if they want to, they can find you anywhere there isn’t a blocker.”
“Is there a blocker here?”
“In this house, yes, but it doesn’t extend across the land you walked across yesterday.”
“When can I see you again?”
“We’ll work something out.”
“Can we at least talk?”
“I’ll speak to Aiden about what can be done.”
“If the surveillance men go, will you go and live back in the town?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Will you come and live with Ju Shen and me?”
Soren smiles, “Try keeping me away.”
“Do you think they will go?”
“They will if Cadmus leaves.”
“And will he?”
Soren shrugs. “He’s an old man. He’s tired. He wants to come home and stay.”
“But you can’t live out here forever.”
“No I can’t. We’ll work something out, Matty, don’t fret about it now.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Mathew walks back to Elgol in his father’s oversized jacket. The snow has stopped falling; the sun has come out. Snow glistens on the top of bracken, heather and gorse on the moorland at the foot of the mountains, and on the cloaks of white covering the trees in the forest. It is a happier journey back than he had expected to make. He takes a handful of the frozen flowers, knocking away the snow from their tops, and carries it down with him, to add to the bunch already on his mother’s grave. In spite of this sad stop, he finds himself smiling as he takes big downwards strides through the field at the top of the town centre.
There are kids outside the school, pelting each other with snow.
As he walks past the cabins, Lea comes out and runs after him. “Hey!” she shouts. “Where the hell have you been?”
Mathew shrugs. “The grave.”
“You been there all night?”
Lea is exasperated by Mathew’s lack of response. “I was blitzing you with messages last night. They kept getting pinged back like you were under a blocker or something.” Then a penny drops for her. “Oh.” She glances briefly in the direction of the mountain. “Anyways, come inside, I have news.”
“I need to get back to my grandma.”
“She’ll wait, you’ll want to see this.”
They go into the cabin where Aiden is working in the front. “Ariite, our Mat,” he says.
“Mr. Fitzackerly,” Mathew says, nodding to him as they pass.
“'Ow a gewd couple times must ay tell yous, it's Aiden.”
Lea glances at Mathew and laughs,
“He says call him Aiden.”
“Your kidda is an divvie,” Aiden says.
Mathew waits for Lea to translate. She shakes her head and says, “Never mind. Come on, I want you to see this!” They go into the back.
Lea goes over to her Canvas, lying flat on the table, and tilts it so they can both watch. She turns on the news. The reporter is saying,
“And more now from the town of Amach, where relief efforts continue in this northern town, which may be the location of the first biological weapons attack on British soil. The government continues to offer no confirmation of the rumour that the strange sleeping sickness, crippling the town for over three months, is the result of bioterrorism. However, since the extraordinary broadcast of footage from within the town, independent international experts have all been speculating about the cause of the outbreak. We spoke to Stefano Donati, from the University of Bologna, who told us that, based on the samples and observational evidence gathered by Amach GP, Dr Russell, he believes the virus is man-made. A spokesperson for Pan Medical assures us that the incidents of disease in Amach are localised.
“Meanwhile, the Prime Minister has launched an inquiry into why the town was allegedly held under siege by the security services without food and water supplies for several months. Chief Inspector Mike Carson and Commander Axel Gorse have been suspended pending the results of the inquiry. Earlier, we interviewed Dr Russell, who had this to say.”
The image switches to Dr Russell.
“We now have the full cooperation of the medical services, the army and the police. We have all the supplies we could reasonably expect. Although we are still unable to leave the village, Pan Medical is actively engaged in analysing the samples we have gathered here, and early results are showing, as we thought, that the virus is not contagious, and we have hope of the cordon being lifted soon so we can see family and friends again. Many people have asked if we received help to raise awareness of our plight at Amach. We did not receive any outside assistance, but if we had, we would be offering our heartfelt thanks to such friends right now.”
Back in the studio, the newsreader says, “The BBC has launched its own inquiry into how the six o’ clock news was hacked.”
Lea turns off the Canvas and sits back in her chair with her arms folded and a smug expression on her face.
“Wow,” Mathew says. “We did it.”
“We really did.”
“Do you think they will find us?”
“Bah!” Lea says. “Not a chance of it.”
She holds up her hand. It is a few seconds before Mathew realises she means for him to high-five her. He does, but without much energy. She rolls her eyes and sighs, “Man, you know how to celebrate.”
“We should tell Isaac.”
“We can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s in the hospital having his new eye fitted.”
“Already?”
“Yes, Dr Hucks said the eye was ready last night, and he went in this morning.”
“How long will it take?”
She shrugs and says, “He wanted you with him but no one could find you. He was upset. You’re the only person he has.”
“I know. I went for a walk yesterday and ran in to someone I used to know. Someone important to me.”
“I know. And I understand, but you’ll have to explain to Isaac somehow without telling him the truth. Because no one should know who you visited yesterday.”
“That reminds me. Would there be a way of establishing a highly secure communication line to a cabin in the mountains?”
“I think there might. We should go and speak to Dad.”
Mathew’s eyes widen, but then, like most of Elgol, Aiden and Lea would know about his father.
25 The Contract
DAY THIRTY-SEVEN: Tuesday 28th December 2055
Mathew and Lea are hanging about in the hospital waiting room after lunch, hoping they might see Isaac, when Craig Buchanan comes looking for them. He is serious and dark in mood.
“Mathew, you’re wanted in the hall office,” he says gruffly. He nods at Lea.
“Can I come?” she asks.
“Not this time,” he says. The way he says it makes Mathew realise that something serious has happened.
“What is it?” he asks.
“Best find out for yourself,” he says. “I’ll walk with you.”
They cross from the hospital to the hall. Much of the snow has been cleared from the road into piles at the sides. There’s a strange car in the car park at the back of the hall.
“You’ve got visitors,” Mathew says.
Craig looks at him, “No, you’ve got visitors.”
They go inside, through the lobby and into the office. Ju Shen and Isla Kier are sitting with two men with tidy haircuts, suits and ties.
“Here he is!” one of the men says cheerily, getting to his feet. “Mathew, I’m pleased to meet you. My name is Paul Shepcutt. This is my colleague, Philip Jain.”
“They’re from Hermes Link,” Ju Shen says flatly. Her face is stony.
“From the educational division. I’m Director of Scholarships for the London South area,” Paul Shepcutt says quickly.
“You want to know why I’ve not been at school. I wrote to Nan Absolem, my supervisor, about my mother’s death.”
“Yes, you did. Quite right. And she got the appropriate authorisation for your studies to be put on hold. Bereavement leave. All above board. That’s not an issue at all.”
“Then what is?”
“We were wondering where you were intending to live now your mother has passed away?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t had time to think about it.”
“Mr. Shepcutt,” Craig says, still standing, his hands resting on the back of Mathew’s chair. “In addition to losing his mother, Mathew went through a terrible ordeal on his journey to get here.”
“Yes, we heard about that,” Philip Jain says. “I have to say, we all felt that, had Mathew been in the hands of Hermes Link people, rather than shipped away by Panacea, things would have turned out differently.”
“You would never have allowed the M6 to be hijacked, I suppose?” Isla asks.
“No,” Jain says. “We wouldn’t.”
“What I was trying to hint at, perhaps too subtly,” Craig continues, “is that Mathew has been through a hell of a lot in only a few weeks. He is sixteen. Perhaps it would behove the adults around him to give him the space and the time to let him recover from the multiple shocks he has experienced.”
Paul Shepcutt turns in his seat to study Craig Buchanan. “You’re the mayor of Elgol, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Give a lot of speeches, do you?”
“Some. Why?”
“No reason. I agree with you, by the way. Mathew should have the proper support of the adults around him. He has been through a lot and he needs the best professional care money can buy. We would be glad to help.”
“That wasn’t what I said,” Craig says.
“Wasn’t it?” Shepcutt says.
“What do you want, Mr. Shepcutt?” Ju Shen asks.
“You do know Mathew’s on a full scholarship to Hermes Link?”
“Yes, of course I know.”
“Do you know the value of his scholarship, Mrs. Shen?”
“I’m sure you are going to enlighten us.”
“Six hundred thousand pounds to date,” Mr. Shepcutt says.
Craig whistles between his teeth.
“You know the nature of the contract he has with us?” Philip Jain says.
“He’s sold his soul?”
Isla reaches out and touches Ju Shen’s hand, cautioning.
Mr. Shepcutt and Philip Jain both smile indulgently. “A joke, I see,” Shepcutt says. “Very good.”
Isla glances once again at Ju Shen and holds her hand, willing her not to contradict the bureaucrat.
“I need to work for you, once my education is complete,” Mat
hew says.
“Yes, it’s in the contract. But it’s not the part worrying us all at the education division at Hermes Link.”
“What is worrying you?” Isla asks.
“I’m glad you asked,” Shepcutt says, smiling graciously at Isla. “Mathew’s school is in London. Whilst we do have facilities elsewhere around the country, we don’t have anything within striking distance of this place. Not that it should surprise anyone. It is remote.”
Jain continues, “If Mathew lived here permanently, he wouldn’t be able to continue his education with us.”
“Well, that would be a shame,” Ju Shen says dryly.
“Yes it would,” Shepcutt says. “I’m glad you agree.”
“We realise this is a complex situation for you and Mathew,” Jain says amiably. “His school and his home are in London, but his mother has passed away; there is a mortgage on his home and no income for the ongoing payments. Even if there was the money to maintain the house, a sixteen-year-old boy cannot be expected to live alone.”
“No, indeed not,” Craig Buchanan says.
Jain says, “There is the option of Mrs. Shen coming to live in London with Mathew.”
“I do not have the money to keep Hoshi’s old house,” Ju Shen says.
“We thought as much,” Jain says. “Nor, we supposed, the desire to move from your lovely home here, back to a large polluted, flooded city?”
Ju Shen smiles thinly but says nothing.
Shepcutt says, “From a personal point of view, it makes sense for Mathew to come and live here with his family on a permanent basis.”