Return to Wardate

by Bill Cornwell

  ‘Yes… are you all right, Barton?’

  ‘I am now. Ten minutes ago for some unknown reason I started ripping wires and pipes out of your tank in an uncontrollable rage.’

  ‘You hated me, right?’

  ‘Well… yes. The feeling faded before I’d done any real damage but I can’t explain it.’

  ‘You sound as though your upset,’ pried Madeline.

  ‘Suddenly after a few minutes, my emotions seemed to rebound from extreme hate to extreme…’

  ‘…Love?’ suggested Madeline.

  She didn’t give him time to answer - the last thing she wanted was to go all sloppy on each other.

  ‘Heard the name: Mark Titoo? Don’t bother answering, course you have but you don’t know who he is and you’ve never met him. Apparently we’re all being influenced by some kind of mind wave - signal. It’s just made every one in the country – probably in the world, hate me for a few minutes.’

  ‘My God, that will explain it. I suppose this person is your next target then?’

  ‘Naturally, but in the search, I suspect a few obstacles he may well be thrown in my way. Somehow I need some leads…’

  ‘Don’t forget your data bases, they may reveal something?’

  ‘Good thinking, I think I’ll hide myself in a pub somewhere and journey inattentively inwards.’

  ‘Journey inattentively inwards – good line.’

  ‘Yea, read it in a book. Would you contact Adam and ask him to come and pick me up? Could run the whole 200 mile but may attract a bit of attention.’

  ‘Ok, will do… Madeline, be careful,’ said Barton still emotionally recovering.

  Chapter 13: Everyone loves Madeline

  There were two significant things to go on - the timely event of everyone hating Madeline and the name Mark Titoo. Whoever he was, somehow he knew the precise moment to send the brainwashing signal to turn everyone into Madeline haters. Whoever he was also most probably also now knew that he was her next target. An inside man was the only possible answer.

  There was a slim chance. It all depended on whether Paul Brownsword – Turner at the time, had time to complete his paperwork. Had he filed the names on the Residents of Wardate list on to a data base? She type in the word Wardate and crossed her fingers. It wasn’t there. Of course it wasn’t, a data base containing the world’s most evil people? That would be something instantly deleted by a strategically place member of the brotherhood. But surely Turner/Brownsword wouldn’t have discarded the priceless information. Would he have filed the names under something else? Madeline entered: ‘Brownsword’ – nothing, ‘Turner’ – nothing, ‘Tara Gogli’ – nothing. Madeline emerged from her inner world, left the quiet corner of the inn and went over to the bar.

  ‘Have you a vacant double room?’ Madeline asked.

  ‘Yes Madam, one night?’ said the rather miserable obese barman.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you want to see it?’

  ‘No, I’m sure it’ll be fine.’

  ‘Can I have your name please?’

  ‘Madeline Bull.’

  The sheer mention of this name transformed the appearance of the Barman. A penetrating paternal smile radiated from his former sad face.

  ‘The Madeline Bull?’

  ‘Why do you know me?’

  The barman had to think about that question, he obviously didn’t but somehow he adored her, trembled in her presence and would walk to the moon and back for her. He had no idea why he felt like he did. A rather long awkward silence ensued before Madeline thanked him and returned to her seat. The next couple of hours were insufferable for Madeline in the nicest possible way. Naturally the Barman told every visitor to the inn, who was sitting in the corner. None of the visitors had ever set eyes on her but for some unfathomable reason they all adored her, even dogs came up to her wagged their tails. Hopefully these effects wouldn’t last but clearly the adverse effect of making the whole world instantly loath you for a few minutes was that the world then flipped into worship mode.

  Adam arrived - tears streaming down his face. He ran to Madeline, hugged her, kissed her and cried some more.

  ‘Adam, sweetheart, what’s wrong,’ asked Madeline sweetly.

  ‘A few hours ago something really weird happened. In an instant I detested you. So much so that I tore up all are photos, that favourite shirt you bought me, I cut it up. I started to send you a hate text and then it was all over. I suddenly loved you again, I don’t think I’ve ever realised how much I do love you.’

  ‘It will pass… I think?’

  ‘What do you mean, pass? Why would I want this feeling to stop?’

  ‘Listen, I know this is hard to believe but you’ve been affected by a mind altering signal. You’re not the only one who’s been under the influence. Even Barton was emotional… look around – everybody is stalking me, they all… apparently adore me. It’s really embarrassing.’

  Madeline told Adam everything: About the mysterious man’s name, Mark Titoo, who naturally he had heard of, about the ultrasound - tinnitus signal, about the fifteen bullet holes in her clothes and about running four miles in five minutes. Eventually after four pints of Guinness and one untouched red wine she told him about the double room she had booked. Fortunately by now, the effects had worn off. No one in the inn was gawping, stalking or ogling anymore and Adam had reverted back to his old care free, chilled out self.

  The next morning Adam was pretty much worn out by Madeline’s insatiable appetite for rumpy pumpy and required a large full English breakfast to aid recovery. She decided to stay in the room where there was a handy thirteen amp socket whilst Adam gorged on his bacon, eggs, tomato, beans, sausage and hash browns. Sometimes passionate sex is good to get the brain motivated. She checked that the green light was on her little jamming device and then rubbed her thumb and forefinger together in a particular way. She typed in Hogarth hospital and then residents of Ward 8, there it was, the list of names she had glanced at on Gogli’s computer screen. Top of the list was Aaron Alexander, the one who was responsible for poaching her like an egg in a saucepan. Now it was a simple matter of cross matching this list with the employees at Capesdown Hall and possibly finding a mole. She accepted that this was a long shot, perhaps the insider wasn’t a resident of Wardate - perhaps there wasn’t an insider at all. Thankfully, Nuttall’s team had repaired her big toe, she hinged open the end of it and inserted a memory stick.

  The jamming device was turning out to be essential and more on than off. Apart from hiding data bases from prying eyes it had other uses. Naturally it was on whilst they were making love, whilst she was naked, whilst Adam was naked and when she had something for Adam’s ears only. Now she needed it off, she had to speak to Nuttall.

  ‘Nuttall, can you hear me? I sending Adam to Capesdown, he has something I want you to check out.’

  Several seconds passed before Nuttall replied.

  ‘Shall I send the helicopter?’

  ‘Why not, then I can use his car!’

  Finally Madeline was back in the Volvo. She simply loved Adam’s car. Many things, good and bad had happened on the soft leather seats. It was sort of home from home; it had character but above all it was dependable. She needed to visit someone – the cleverest person she knew, cleverer than all the P.A.I.D. scientists put together (the scientists who built Madeline Bull). His address was top secret so it was easy to find on a top secret data base.

  Adam had never been in a helicopter before. He couldn’t entirely absorb the moment because he had a serious job to do. He knew the information contained on the memory stick he carried, was highly confidential. Only Nuttall was to see the contents and even then, only viewed in his ‘V’ room. He was well aware that helping his girlfriend was nearly always hazardous and there was always a possibility that he would end up with one, possibly two bullets somewhere in his body. Within a couple of minutes, the sleek black Eurocopter was descending onto the compact helipad at Capesdown Hall. No cock-up
s this time, he had to get this right. As usual, Pike met him on the helipad.

  ‘I need to see Nuttall urgently,’ yelled Adam over the noise of the engine, hair whipping about in the wake of the rotors.

  Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so outspoken, perhaps he shouldn’t have drawn as much attention to himself and perhaps he shouldn’t have been wearing the dark sunglasses – it was raining. Pike delegated one of the staff to take him to Nuttall. He soon found himself in a small room in an isolated wing of Capesdown Hall behind a heavy sound proofed unlocked door.

  ‘Why… does this always happen to me!’ screamed Adam.

  Chapter 14: A drive to Digg

  It was a long drive but Madeline didn’t mind at all. The scenery was digitally stunning, the Volvo purred along and the radio played Radio 2 softly. She had never heard of Digg but it was on a Scottish island that she had heard of – The Isle of Sky and that’s where she was heading. It was in this extremely isolated place that Sam Johnson, a brand new name provided by the government protection scheme, now resided. In accordance with the protection scheme, this new identity remained highly classified, documented only on a top secret data base which Madeline naturally had access to.

  Professor Braugenhau was a truly brilliant scientist but unfortunately extreme genius can generate its own problems. It started well, the Professor’s unique communication system had one dedicated use, to connect Poppy Cock to Madeline Bull. The system’s special radio waves had the ability to pass through matter, unhindered – dispensing with costly, unreliable, communication satellites with inconvenient signal delays. However, the system had one significant limitation – it could only have one exclusive user. This was perfectly fine until Raymond de Par, the biological extortionist, extorted the same system to operate his world wide lethal devices. The result was that Madeline’s connection with Poppy was disrupted and vice versa. Madeline’s signal almost disrupted the lethal devices narrowly avoiding a worldwide catastrophe.

  De Par was the first to extort the system from the Professor. Since then, numerous parties throughout the world had designs on the system but obviously this could not happen – it was already in use by a very feisty android. Paul Brownsword signed the papers and the protection scheme was initiated and so began the life of Sam Johnson.

  It was early evening when Madeline entered the peaceful sparsely populated village. No shops, garages or schools, just a handful of pastel coloured houses scattered about the hillside gave this isolated part of Scotland the right to call itself a village. It was raining, naturally, but it was peaceful rain, pattering gently on the roof of the Volvo. In some ways she was looking forwards to meeting the person who had made her new self possible. True the other four scientists had played their part but without the radio link she couldn’t function. Was he old and jolly? Was he bald with a long white unkempt beard? – No, that was Santa, she thought. She knocked on the door.

  What seemed like a long time passed before the door finally opened. A scruffy middle aged woman hovered in the entrance. The odours that were surely there were no bother to Madeline – fortunately she had no sense of smell but the filthy blouse and stained skirt danced out at her.

  ‘Is Mr Johnson in?’ asked Madeline. ‘Can I come in? I’m getting a bit wet out here.’

  ‘No, piss off!’ said the scruffy, grumpy old woman.

  ‘Could you be kind enough to tell him that it’s Madeline Bull.’

  ‘My God!’ the old woman said.

  Her eyes lit up and a huge smile broke across hers face.

  ‘Come in, come in. I have to be wary on my own out here.’

  The interior of the house was as expected, untidy but spacious and certainly cosy. Not modern but kitted out with all the mod-cons – even a 50” plasma television perched precariously on a much smaller cabinet. It was a modestly sized room with the kitchen area at one end and what could be classed as a lounge forming the rest of the living space. A blazing log fire more than adequately warmed the room.

  ‘Sit down, please sit down. I know you don’t have to, but please…’

  Madeline dusted some crumbs of a chair and sat down.

  ‘No point in offering you a cup of tea but I’ve got a thirteen amp socket if that’s any use.’

  ‘No, no thanks… how… do you…’

  ‘You don’t know how thrilled I am to see you. When they told me what my system would be used for, I was delighted. And you’re so beautiful – everything I imagined you would be.’

  ‘Your system? But you’re a woman?’

  ‘Well I was last time I checked. Now, you’re not bugged or tracked are you?’

  ‘No, I’ve got this jamming device.’

  Madeline took the little box out of her pocket and checked that the green light was still glowing.

  ‘Barton’s with us but he’s safe,’ said Madeline.

  ‘Professor Barton? Well, well, how is the old codger?’

  ‘Tell her I’m fine. Ask her, how’s the old frump?’ replied Barton through Madeline’s audio circuits.

  ‘He’s fine, he’s asking how’s the old frump?’

  Sam laughed heartily but wisely didn’t give a reply.

  ‘He’s like my dad, he looks after me,’ said Madeline proudly.

  Samantha Johnson formerly Professor Braugenhau was a truly lovely warm caring person - Madeline Instantly bonded. She told the Professor everything she could: How Poppy died and Madeline was born, her adventures, her upgrades, all about Adam, all about Barton, about her latest mission and then more about Adam. They talked for hours and eventually moved onto the subject of Ray de Par.

  ‘I had two sons. I wouldn’t - couldn’t cooperate with him so Jay my youngest got a parcel.’

  Madeline knew instantly what she was leading to.

  ‘I’m so, so sorry,’ said Madeline holding her hand.

  ‘Your hand, it’s warm and soft… and perfect,’ said the professor trying her best to change the subject but she knew she had to finish.

  ‘I had no choice, I couldn’t loose Danny, my eldest.’

  ‘No, no, anyone would have done the same,’ reassured Madeline.

  ‘Anyway, my lovely Madeline, you sorted him out, you did good.’

  The odd tear was now flowing down the professor’s face washing off some of the designer dirt.

  ‘So I assume you’re here for a reason, what do you want to know?’ asked the Professor.

  ‘True, I have come to pick your brains but all the same, I did want to meet you. Have you heard the name, Mark Titoo?’

  ‘Of course I have, he’s… he’s the…’

  ‘I thought if anyone knew him, it would be you but you don’t know him, do you?’

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ said the Professor.

  ‘Oh… don’t apologise, apparently no one knows who he is but everybody has heard of him. Apparently there’s an ultrasound signal that’s constantly being transmitted from somewhere and it’s brainwashing all of us. You don’t know of anyone who was developing, researching anything similar to that in your line of work… thought control, whatever you would call it?’

  ‘It was back in the naughty 90’s at Cambridge. There was a group of us specialising in radio communication and electronics. We were trying to find a new unique way of communication. That’s a photo of us behind you.’

  Madeline picked up the photo frame - a group of six happy men and women posed. Professor Braugenhau could clearly be recognised third from the left. She was definitely a woman, pretty, well dressed and not a hint of grime on her face.

  ‘At that time, they were worried that all the electromagnetic spectrum would be shortly used up with radio and television transmissions leaving no spare space for vital services… they wanted the impossible. They wanted us to find a new… spectrum I suppose. As usual, a little bit of knowledge is a dangerous thing especially if you’re a narrow minded minister. However we did come up with quiet a few ideas as you probably now realise.’

  ‘Do you know the nam
es of you group?’

  ‘Now you’re asking, we all tended to call each other by nick names. Faggy, Carpy… oh yes, Coco. I was called Eyebrow – for obvious reasons.’

  Madeline stored the picture in her internal gallery files.

  ‘Was anyone dabbling in… I don’t know… something like a biological spectrum?’ asked Madeline trying to be intelligent.

  ‘An interesting notion. I don’t really know, almost everything was considered – bioelectronics, neutrinos, gravity waves and yes, even ultrasound but I can’t remember who was concentrating on what, we tended not to pry on one another’s work,’ said the Professor.

  Madeline listened intently to the friendly old lady but a flashing light in the corner of her vision distracted her. It was her jamming device, the indicator was no longer green but flashing red – the battery was almost flat which probably meant the device wasn’t working. Exactly how long this had been the case, she wasn’t sure. The battery was quickly replaced for a fresh one but it was too late, the level of tinnitus built up in her head until it was no longer subliminal.

  ‘I’m so sorry… Hold my hand tightly - don’t let my thumb and forefinger touch. If you want to live, don’t let me go no matter what,’ said Madeline sternly.

  The Professor did as she was told, she provided a powerful grip.

  ‘Why, what’s happening?’

  ‘I believe you are about to experience the effects of the ultrasound.’

  ‘Strange, I feel suddenly depressed - a horrible wave of despair.’

  ‘So you should you obnoxious, foul evil smelling bastard!’ scream Madeline.

  ‘What’s going on?’ cried the Professor.

  ‘Let go of my hand, the world is better off with out your sort,’ snarled Madeline.

  The grip tightened. Madeline with explosive motion turned off, had the strength of at least one man but the power of the Professor’s grip was enhanced with fear and adrenalin.