The quiet Cheshire roads were ideal to try out this wonderful car.
‘Punch in Strangeways prison, darling.’
‘Darling? You never call me darling.’
‘In a car like this I couldn’t possibly call you anything else… darling.’
‘So why are we going to Strangeways… darling?’
‘Think… who’s in there that we know all too well?’
‘Alexander, I thought you’d never want to see him again.’
‘I’m going to try and not kill him but probably will… and then, if my hunch is right, remove a couple of things from him.’
‘I’ll stay in the car then darling.’
‘Wouldn’t let you do anything else, darling.’
Chapter 19: A visit to Strangeways
It happened to be visiting time which was convenient for Madeline at least. The visiting room was busy with visitors and prisoners all sitting either side empty melamine topped tables. Security was high and the guards were armed as most inmates were lifers. Madeline was already sitting – Alexander entered the room with prison guards either side of him.
‘Hello Aaron,’ said Madeline calmly.
‘Madeline, what a nice surprise.’ said Alexander nervously as he sat down.
‘Grown your hair? …Suits you.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Still a resident of Wardate?’
‘Wardate? …Never heard of them.’
‘Really... something I’ve pondered with for a while - residents of Wardate, the gathering of the most evil people in the world? One piece of excrement is bad enough but a festering pile of excrement implies something beyond bad… What have you actually gathered for?’ Madeline clearly hated him and she made it obvious.
‘Wouldn’t you like to know,’ smirked Alexander.
‘So you have gathered for a reason? … Have you joined in on this hatred towards the USA? Sorry stupid question, you don’t really need subliminal messages – you’ve already got the tee shirt.
‘Don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Alexander.
‘Yes you do. Let me postulate, something I often like to do, Mark Titoo, he’s not on the Wardate list, how strange?’
‘Never heard of him.’
‘Yes you have. Thing is, turning the world’s population in on it self - making the rest of the world hate the USA - the millions upon millions of people who will be killed in the conflict, surely that’s the most evil thing anyone could do. Even worse than what you and Tara Gogli did. So why isn’t the person who’s apparently behind all this – Mark Titoo on the list? Only one possible explanation, he must be the founder of Wardate, the one who gathered you all. He wants all of you for something ordinary decent people are incapable of doing. You see, a club, gathering, what ever you like to call it, usually implies people sticking together, being mates, helping one another out, being nice to each other. You can see the problem can’t you? You’re all evil, you don’t know how to be nice. You’re all back stabbing, selfish, treacherous pieces of sputum. How can you possibly help each other out?
‘I really haven’t a clue what your babbling on about,’ said Alexander as sincerely as any evil person can be.
Madeline returned to the subject of his hair.
‘Grown your hair for any particular reason? Anyway, moving on, I think you know I have a score to settle. I’ll get to the point, you tried to kill me. Did you know being burnt alive was my nightmare phobia? I used to respect you, think you were a nice person. I even trusted you with my life. What happened?’
Madeline reached for his hand across the table and held it firmly.
‘There’s still time to redeem yourself you know - make peace with your soul, it’s not too late.’
Alexander briefly considered what Madeline had just said.
‘I do have regrets in my life. The biggest one is that I didn’t finish you off properly when I had the chance.’
‘Exactly what I wanted to hear,’ said Madeline concisely.
Madeline released his hand - the small hypodermic needle was still protruding from her finger. Alexander glanced at the needle – his smugness instantly turned into terror.
‘What, the hell have you done!?’
‘For Brownsword, Angela, Sid, Zoë and all the others who’ve suffered at your hands, I’ve just given you a lethal dose of cyanide. Talking about hell, you’ll be there in about five seconds,’ said Madeline coldly.
Alexander said nothing, he didn’t really have time to think of anything pertinent to say. In exactly five seconds he slumped forward, Madeline caught his head with both hands before it hit the table. She moved the hair covering his ears with her thumbs and prised out two little ear devices. They were exactly the same as the ones Coley had in his ears. She restored her hypodermic finger and inflated her breasts.
‘Officer!’ shouted Madeline. ‘He’s just passed out. One minute he was staring down my cleavage and the next, he almost fell in. You don’t think he’s had a heart attack do you?’ said Madeline tawdrily.’
No questions were asked. Alexander was carried out by two officers and Madeline was told to leave – in her own good time – if she wanted to – there was no rush.
Adam was snoozing in the Aston. The luxury clunk of the door closing woke him up.
‘How’s Alexander?’
‘Dead,’ said Madeline concisely.
‘Feel better?’
‘No, not really. I don’t enjoy killing you know!’
Adam knew it was best to say no more on the subject.
‘So where now?’ asked Adam.
‘We have to deliver these.’
She displayed the ear devices in her hand.
‘Back to Capesdown hall then?’
‘No not quite… Barton, I’m afraid I have no alternative, I have to pay you a visit.’
‘No, your location has to be kept a secret.’
‘Barton, don’t be ridiculous, you know you can’t leave that place without being brainwashed again. You can’t stay there forever – you need food for a start. I’ve got a pair of ear devices. You need to wear them… after you’ve figured out how they work, of course.’
There was a pause before Barton replied.
‘That watch he gave you will contain a tracking device.’
‘No problem, I’ll leave it with Adam, he can stay at the inn.’
‘Hang on… no chance, I’m coming with you,’ Adam protested.
‘Sweetheart, how many torn out finger nails will it take before you divulge my whereabouts?’
‘I’ll stay at the inn then.’
‘Nuttall’s car will probably have a tracker too.’
‘What a pity, looks like you’ll be going in my boring old Volvo,’ said Adam.
Chapter 20: A shop in Buxton
Barton behaved like the voice on a sat-nav. He wouldn’t say where she was going just ‘next left’, ‘next right’ third exit off the roundabout’ etc, etc. Madeline, as mentioned previously, liked the Volvo, it was a big leather armchair with wheels but most important, it belonged to Adam. She had made it clear that she wanted first refusal if he ever wanted to part with it but unfortunately Adam was the sort that ran a car into the ground.
The drive gave her chance to think, not about the current happenings but about how exactly she functioned. She squeezed the throttle down a touch and tried to visualise what was really happening - she couldn’t. Now that her unique existence had become second nature, reality was shrouded with incredulity. As far as she was concerned, she pressed her right foot down and the car went faster and that was it. She was entirely this incredible machine.
Thoughts like this always surfaced when visiting her real self was imminent. As far as she was concerned, never seeing her real body again was no bad thing but she had to see Barton. As it was, he was effectively a prisoner. He couldn’t leave the shielded room or he would be influenced by the ultrasound and once again hate the Americans. Then he would punish Madeline for not hating t
he Americans – it didn’t bare thinking about.
Everyone under the influence of this brainwashing was irrational, unpredictable and intolerant of anything even remotely to do with the USA. She watched several people as she drove past. Everyone looked happy but had certain glazed look - a trancelike look - even the dogs barked differently. No one seemed to realise what was happening to them. She saw several bald people with placards around their necks; they seemed to have embraced their punishment as though they thoroughly deserved it. All the fast food places: MacDonald’s, KFC and Pizza Hut’s were closed. It had become a very strange and frightening world.
‘Nearly there,’ said Barton. ‘Park up where you can.’
‘Buxton?’
‘Yes, the highest town in England.’
A few minutes later Madeline found herself standing in front of a boarded up shop. A few letters had obviously fallen of the battered sign above leaving a cryptic clue as to what was once sold inside: “art on’s eats”.
‘Now the tricky bit, I’m in a store room at the back. I have to come out of the range of the bandpass filter let you in,’ said Barton.
‘Be quick then!’
In the couple of minutes Barton took to get to the front entrance of the disused shop and unlock the door he had changed. Madeline could clearly see the glazed look in his eyes. The strength of the brainwashing ultrasound was obviously at full strength now.
‘Barton, don’t do anything stupid!’ said Madeline.
Madeline was really hoping that she wouldn’t have to react but as a precaution, her laser finger was ready primed on stun. Unfortunately he began to scream out like a mad man, ‘Traitor, traitor, American sympathiser….’
She fired neatly at his chest dearly hoping he hadn’t got a heart complaint.
‘I’m so, so sorry Pops,’ she said as he collapsed into her arms.
Luckily, no one saw or heard the incident or at least if they did, somehow mistook it as a joyous welcome between father and daughter. She dragged him in to the shop and locked the door behind her. At the back of the butchers shop there was an open door with a room beyond. She knew exactly what she would find in there – her tank – where she was.
The reunion of herself with herself always brought back painful memories. With Barton on her shoulder, she hesitantly entered the room and closed the door behind her. Carefully she lowered his limp body on to a chair and for no reason, gave him a kiss on the forehead. The tank, Poppy’s tank was there, prominent and imposing. She was fully aware of it but refrained from looking in that particular direction. She purposely concentrated on the contents of the room first. Clearly it was no place for Barton to stay long term especially as there was no place to sleep and a complete lack of cooking facilities. There were copious stocks of food and drink but that was predominantly for Poppy - to be fed down tubes, mostly as mush, into her mouth.
The countless pipes and cables linking her tank to the equipment were now arranged neatly and fastened with plastic ties. This was a huge contrast as to how it was in the cow shed - her previous location. As usual there was a large monitor was on one wall, irritatingly showing her eye sight and quietly howling with audio feedback – she turned it off. Still refraining from looking at her tank, she turned to Barton. He had aged considerably since she had last seen him even though it was only a few weeks ago. She went all soppy again and decided that she would be very proud to have him as a father figure. He had sacrificed a lot for her and she was fully aware of this fact. Because of him, she had this new wonderful body, was inwardly fit and healthy and had a purpose in life. He was clearly devoting his life to her and she had just stunned him for his troubles. Yes, she had been instrumental in finding his daughter, Zoë, saving her from an awful, lonely death but any feisty android would have done that.
It was now time, she clenched her teeth and slowly turned around towards her tank. The polished stainless steel randomly reflected the light from the room’s single fluorescent strip light. The soot stains from the fire had been completely removed - Barton had been busy. The unfortunate consequence was that it was now looked even more clinical, overbearing and oppressing. She tapped one of the sides - she heard it and felt it resounding all around her. She examined the hatch on the top and could clearly see one of the screws had been mauled. As she walked about she could see the pneumatics silently adding motion to the tank. She jumped up, the pneumatics jolted the tank downwards – she landed, the pneumatics jolted the tank upwards. The technology was fascinating but frightening all the same.
Finally Barton stirred.
‘How are you, Pops?’ said Madeline affectionately.
‘Did you have to do that?’ said Barton trying to get to his feet.
‘Try not to move too quickly, the effects will wear off in a moment… I think.’
‘Astonishing… the ultrasound brainwashing is definitely more powerful than I thought,’ said Barton clearly still dizzy.
Madeline took the small ear devices she had removed from Alexander’s ears, out of her inside jacket pocket.
‘See if you can figure out how these things work. You may want to clean them up before you fit them in your ears.’
‘Probably some kind of noise cancelling circuitry – unless it’s alien technology,’ said Barton seriously.
‘Alien? Do you think it might be?’ she said gullibly.
‘Don’t be silly! I read a paper about this, years ago. In fact I believe even Hitler had his scientist working on something similar back in the forties. High energy projected ultrasound.’
‘So we can blame Hitler for all this?’
‘Fortunately, the technology then wasn’t advanced enough to make it possible.’
By now Barton was on his feet and had already started plugging in various instruments and testing equipment.
‘So… Buxton of all places?’
‘My fathers shop, Barton’s Meats. It’s been empty for years - thought I’d make use of the building.’
‘Ah, so that’s what it’s supposed to say. You come from a family of butchers then?’
‘Yes and proud of it! The Barton sausage was the thickest and longest in the north of England.’
‘I’ll take your word for that,’ said Madeline maturely, doing her best not to childishly smile, but she did.
Barton turned the monitor back on, it showed Madeline’s eye sight, she was just about to complain but he quickly switched it over to a news channel.
‘Wonderful, wonderful news, tomorrow we start the invasion. Nine hundred war ships, eighty aircraft carriers and three hundred nuclear submarines are due to sail from all points on the globe, converging in the Atlantic. We will soon eradicate the foulness from this glorious planet of ours….’
‘For god sake, turn that tripe off,’ said Madeline.
‘Terrifying – talking about Hitler, it sounds like one of his speeches,’ said Barton.
‘I just hope Nuttall has some good new for me but I’m not holding my breath. Bit of bungling twerp if you ask me.’
Chapter 21: A useful phone app
Barton was now too busy to act as a satellite navigation service so Madeline had to find her own way back to the inn. The journey took her two hours longer than it should have done mainly because she went via Leeds to get back to Cheshire. The Aston Martin was parked neatly outside the inn - that was her Adam, probably never took it over 30 mph and more than likely gave the bonnet a quick polish with his sleeve before her left it. She assumed he would be in the snug on his third or fourth pint – but he wasn’t.
‘Seen Adam?’ Madeline asked Bert the barman.
Bert turned around slowly and trance like. His eyes were wide open and staring, his mouth open but not smiling.
‘Are you his friend?’ he said without emotion.
‘You know I am, come on Bert, where is he?’
Things had certainly got a lot worse, an awful lot worse. Last night Bert didn’t own a country double barrel rifle but now, without hesitation, he fired a wa
rning shot over her head. The clientele seemed to be oblivious to his actions and resumed with their drinks as soon as the noise, smoke and plaster dust had settled. Madeline was not at all happy that she was now covered in a layer of grey dust. With one tug of her delicate hands, the nineteen stone barman flew forwards toward size zero, one, two or three Madeline.
‘Finished? I said… where - is - Adam?’
Acting on this violence towards beloved Bert the barman, all his clientele jumped from their seat to help him out.
‘Sit back down!’ Madeline bellowed.
Credit to all of them; they were undaunted and continued to approach Madeline with waving fists, walking sticks and snooker cues. No doubt they would have behaved differently if they had known about her laser finger - the sweeping action proved most effective for mass stunning.
‘Right Bert, where were we… Oh yes, you were about to tell me where Adam is.’
Of course he wouldn’t, he couldn’t; the brainwashing influence was far too strong for him to deviate from his mind set. Silence was the only clue as to where he was – her super sensitive hearing heard a faint thumping noise from somewhere below.
‘Okay… he’s in the cellar, thanks for nothing.’
With that, the laser finger was energised once more and Bert joined the rest – out cold and stunned.
Madeline clambered down the stone steps. At first she couldn’t see a thing but slowly her highly sensitive optics adjusted. After a few moments a feeble figure chained up to a steel loop in the brick wall, appeared in view. It was definitely Adam but most of his hair had been shaved off and he was completely naked. Madeline was horrified.
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