by H. R. Moore
* * * * *
Thomas looked around for any signs of Mila. He knew she would be here somewhere, watching and listening to his account in a room close by. He wondered how she would react to what he was about to say. I’ll probably marry her now, he thought, absently; Lulu would never forgive him for what he was about to do.
That gave him pause, more than anything else had. Would Lulu ever forgive him if he didn’t do this? Should he wait and see? Too late now, he thought, knowing deep down they could never go back to the way things were anyway; Guy had ruined everything.
‘Where to start,’ said Thomas, cruelly. ‘Guy’s been paying people for illegal extra hours, my parents included, since he took over his company. He lavishes unlawful perks on every employee, only getting away with it because he gives them to everyone and not just those at the top. He’s been hiding money, siphoning it out of the company for years, which I’ve helped him do – I’ll obviously need my part to be overlooked if you want me to testify to any of this...’ He said the last part as though it were a minor point.
‘I’m sure we can make that happen,’ said Iva, reassuringly.
Thomas nodded. ‘He’s been helping the Defence Department wage cyber warfare on other countries, using his robots to illegally gather intelligence, and he’s been spying on other departments too. How do you think I got into your system to message you?’ He smiled at the lie. He’d actually stolen Mila’s computer when she was in the shower. Like an idiot, she’d left it open and logged in, and he’d managed to get to it just in time before the automatic lockout kicked in. He hadn’t found another time to send more tip-offs, as she’d been more careful since his first break-in. He wondered if she suspected him, but she’d never given any indication that she knew.
‘That was you too?’ asked Iva. ‘Using Guy’s tech?’
‘Yes,’ said Thomas, only just considering that he might have to prove these lies later down the line. ‘I don’t have access to the tech now though,’ he added, quickly, ‘as Guy moved his secret facility after your raid in Exeter, and he won’t tell anyone where he moved it to.’ Thomas breathed an inward sigh of relief as Iva seemed to accept this.
‘Go on,’ she said, now openly eager.
‘As I was saying, he was helping the Defence Department defend against Russian attacks, but they decided to turn the same tech inward, and spy on other government departments.’ Thomas wasn’t actually sure that Guy was doing this, but Guy and Rebecca, the defence minister, were always so cosy, that he was sure something was going on. At the very least, it would send Iva off on a bigger chase after Guy’s investigation was over, meaning hopefully she would leave him well alone.
‘Why’s he been doing all of this?’ said Iva. ‘Extra hours, siphoning off money?’
‘He’s been investing in other countries,’ said Thomas, pausing for a few moments to let the gravity of his words sink in. ‘He thinks it’s unfair that other economies have been devastated by the tech revolution and economies like ours haven’t done anything about it. He sees the sparks of competition kindling in Eastern Europe, and he’s doing everything he can to help them. They’re already allowed to buy our tech, so they can reverse-engineer it to a certain extent, but Guy’s also loaning engineers, giving them money, and founding his own companies. He thinks increased international competition will lead to positive changes in our quality of life. He says he wants to combat some of the shadows from the light of technology, and thinks the way to start this is to help more people benefit from it.’
‘You’re accusing him of breaking international trade agreements?’ said Iva, almost open mouthed.
Thomas nearly laughed at her expression. He managed to keep himself under control, settling for a self-satisfied smile instead. ‘Yes, I am,’ he replied. ‘But far worse than sharing knowledge across borders, he’s also been committing treason by distributing tech in rural Africa. He says he can’t bear that people still die of disease and famine, and can’t accept that, given the tech we have today, people still don’t have access to clean drinking water, or knowledge about contraception, or access to education. He’s been dropping worker drones and water drones for years. That’s what the extra hours go towards, and what the money pays for, and why he’s so nice to his employees, to try and keep everyone happy so no one informs on him.’
‘Well, it’s worked,’ said Iva. ‘We couldn’t find a single lowly factory worker willing to say a bad word about him; totally unheard of.’
‘Because he keeps them sweet,’ said Thomas. ‘And socially, they’d be ostracising themselves. A lot of those people rely on the extra hours; they’ve got used to living beyond their means, and Guy provides them with a way to pay for it. If someone informed and everyone else found out, their life wouldn’t be worth living.’
‘Wow,’ said Iva, taking it all in. ‘Guy is giving tech to Africa?’
‘Yes,’ said Thomas. ‘Which, in case you’re not up to date with international trade agreements, is off limits because China “owns” most of Africa.’
‘I know, I know,’ said Iva impatiently, ‘they’ve been paying significant sums to African dictators for decades to gain access to their metal mines. The dictators take the money and build themselves palaces, while the people still don’t have water, or real roads, or reliable food supplies.’
‘And Guy thinks it’s morally abhorrent that British tech aid is limited because of a commercial worry that China could get hold of the robots and reverse engineer them,’ said Thomas.
‘You can’t blame the government for worrying,’ Iva shot back. ‘If China found a way to do it, they’d undercut the UK and once again become the manufacturing centre of the world.’
‘Come on,’ said Thomas, not able to contain his contempt for the idea. ‘The government’s paranoid, and it’s hurting the economy. We’re not allowed to sell anything to anyone who might possibly, maybe, one day resell to China. And the devices all have GPS trackers, which make them shut down if they enter prohibited territories, and there’s a self-destruct mechanism if the tech’s tampered with in any way. It’s comprehensive stuff.’
‘How did Guy get the robots to Africa without them shutting down?’ asked Iva.
‘He disabled the GPS mechanisms. The anti-tamper precautions remain intact, but he’s still committing treason.’
‘Treason,’ repeated Iva, triumphantly.
* * * * *
Mila left work late that night, having listened to Thomas’ full interview and then gone through it in excruciating detail with Iva afterwards. Iva had managed to convince Thomas to go on the record, so long as he received full immunity, and so long as his part in helping Guy hide money was omitted from the investigation. Thomas had given a full statement, altering some of his allegations about the Defence Department spying on other departments, she noted. As soon as Thomas had signed his statement and was safely out of the building, Iva had called the whole team together to plan their attack.
‘We’ve got enough to bring him down,’ said Iva, visibly high on the thrill of her investigation’s new circumstances. ‘Thomas has given me financial records which clearly show what’s been going on. We know which facilities offer extra hours, although Thomas won’t give us the identity of specific individuals within those facilities, apart from his parents, oddly, not that I’m going to give him the satisfaction of going after them. Small fry and family feuds I have no interest in.
‘We know who was helping Guy to export robots illegally,’ she went on gleefully, ‘but what we don’t have is the robots themselves. Now, this isn’t required, we have enough, but it would be the icing on the cake, and it would give us much better press coverage. Picture the footage of our raid on an illegal facility,’ she said, caught up in her own imagination. ‘So much better than a boring old trail of money.’
Mila felt sick as she helped plot Guy’s demise. The only good thing about Iva’s greed was that at least there was some time for Mila to warn him. She hadn’t been planning to help him; she’d convinced herse
lf that she would follow the rules and do her job. But when she’d heard what Guy had been doing and why, she couldn’t help but support him. The department was meant to catch bad guys: people breaking the rules to further their own aims, people who were greedy and selfish. It wasn’t meant to prosecute people who were breaking the law to try and bring an end to famine and disease. And she agreed with Guy; it was ludicrous that poverty was allowed to exist when they could easily erase if for good, if only everyone worked together.
So, when she left work, instead of sacking off drinks with her childhood friend, Sabrina, and her crowd of socialites, as she usually would have, Mila met them at a swanky bar in Mayfair. She ordered herself a Bramble, then cornered Sabrina.
‘Mila!’ said a tipsy Sabrina. ‘You came! I didn’t think you would!’
‘Hey, Sab,’ Mila replied, inwardly rolling her eyes; she was not in the mood for drunken exuberance. ‘I need to ask for a favour.’ She knew this would come back and bite her eventually, but carried on anyway.
‘Of course,’ said Sabrina.
‘I need you to go and see Guy, in person, and tell him that he’s finished. Thomas came to work earlier and informed on him.’
‘That guy who works for Daddy?’ asked Sabrina, snapping out of her carefree performance, showing the razor focus that Mila had always thought was wasted on life as a socialite. Mila nodded. ‘I met him at The Club,’ she said. ‘Found him detestable from the moment I first saw him.’
‘Really?’ asked Mila, wondering how her own judgement had been so off.
‘Really,’ she replied, firmly. ‘And judging by something Daddy said yesterday, I think Thomas has found a way to oust him too.’
‘He has,’ Mila confirmed, thinking back to Thomas’ bargain with Iva, where he’d told her about his new appointment and made her promise to leave him alone. Iva had agreed without hesitation. She’d replied that she and Thomas were the same. They’d worked their way up from nothing, and they deserved their positions; she was only interested in prosecuting the real bad guys. Mila had baulked at that. She’d been privy to Iva’s outrageous discrimination with regard to the cases she pursued, but she’d never actually heard her say the words out loud.
‘Christ,’ said Sabrina. ‘I’ll do whatever you want. Poor Guy doesn’t have a bad bone in his body. All he’s ever wanted since we were kids was to make the world a better place.’
‘I know,’ said Mila, ‘which is why I’m putting my career on the line to warn him about what’s coming.’
‘Okay,’ said Sabrina, ‘I’ll go now. What specifically should I say?’
‘Tell him Thomas has informed on him. Tell him Iva knows about Africa and Eastern Europe. The only reason she hasn’t already sent someone to arrest him is because she’s trying to find the robots.’
‘Cryptic,’ said Sabrina flippantly, immediately shaking her head in apology as Mila sent her a dark look. ‘Okay, sorry. Thomas informed. Africa, Eastern Europe. She’s trying to find the robots.’
‘He needs to leave immediately, if he doesn’t want to go to jail.’
‘Christ,’ said Sabrina again. ‘Poor Guy.’
‘I know,’ said Mila. ‘Go, now. We don’t have any time to lose. He’s in Devon with the artist.’
‘Okay. Don’t worry, I’ll be there by midnight.’
‘Thanks, Sabrina. Here’s her address,’ she said, handing Sabrina a rare piece of paper. ‘I owe you one.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she replied. ‘This is what friends are for.’
* * * * *
Sabrina got into her autonomous car and it took her to the hyperloop. It submerged into the ground and she felt the familiar jolt as they sped off into the darkness. They emerged at Exeter, her car immediately heading for Dartmoor, to Lulu’s old converted church. Dartmoor was bleak and barren, and Sabrina had never understood why people chose to live here. The moors could boast none of the vibrancy and convenience of the city, no glamorous people to sit and watch and take clothing clothing-related inspiration from. She imagined numerous groups of tourists, rambling about the place, marvelling at the unspoilt expanse of scrubland, but walking-chic wasn’t really her style. She looked out of the window as she raced towards her destination. The stars were more beautiful here, she would admit that much.
She arrived at the church and jumped out of her car, banging on the door, which, weirdly, didn’t seem to have any kind of digital bell or entry system. She banged and banged and eventually the door opened, a bleary-eyed Lulu peering out at her.
‘I need to see Guy,’ said Sabrina, getting straight to it.
‘Who are you?’ asked Lulu, taken aback by the socialite clad in skimpy dress and heels, smelling of cocktails and expensive perfume, on her doorstep in the middle of the night.
‘That doesn’t matter,’ she said. ‘I really need to speak to him. He’s in trouble. Is he here?’
‘He’s not here,’ she replied. ‘I kicked him out earlier.’
‘You kicked him out? Guy? The biggest catch this country has to offer?’ Sabrina couldn’t imagine a move so ludicrous; Guy was everything she dreamed of.
Lulu gave her an incredulous look. ‘Yes. He deserved it,’ she said.
‘Do you know where he is?’
‘No.’
‘Can you call him? Ask him to come back here?’
‘Why don’t you just call him?’ asked Lulu, confused.
‘It would be traceable,’ she said, ‘and difficult to explain.’
‘Whereas all the cameras that caught you coming down here? They’re, what? Not able to trace your journey?’
‘They are,’ she replied, ‘but they’re not able to hear my voice, or, for the most part, see my face. All they can prove is that I came to Dartmoor in the middle of the night, to see my good friends Guy and Lulu.’
Lulu huffed. ‘Fine. I’ll message him.’
‘A call would be better,’ said Sabrina. ‘Just don’t say anything about me, and don’t sound distressed. Just say he needs to come back because you want to talk, or something.’
Lulu picked up her smart glasses and instructed them to call Guy.
‘Lulu?’ said Guy, picking up immediately and sounding surprised.
‘Hey,’ she said awkwardly. ‘Listen, can you come back tonight? I think we should talk.’
‘Uh,’ said Guy, ‘of course, I’ll come back now. I’m in Exeter, so I’ll be there soon. Is everything alright?’
‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘See you soon.’
* * * * *
Guy knew something strange was going on when he saw the high-end car outside Lulu’s house. He rushed to the door and hammered the knocker. Lulu answered almost immediately, her face a mask. ‘What’s going on?’ he said. ‘Who’s here?’
‘Someone called Sabrina,’ she answered, shaking her head. ‘Says she needs to speak to you urgently.’
‘Lulu, we should talk,’ he said.
‘No, we shouldn’t,’ she replied. ‘I have no idea what’s going on, but it doesn’t look good.’
‘Guy!’ said Sabrina, joining them by the door. ‘I have a message for you.’ She looked pointedly at Lulu as Guy stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
‘It’s fine,’ he said, ushering them all through to the main living space. ‘You can say whatever it is. I have a feeling the time for secrets is over.’
‘Mila came to see me,’ she said. ‘Thomas informed on you. He’s told Iva everything. About Eastern Europe and Africa. The only reason she hasn’t come to arrest you already is because she’s trying to find the robots. I have no idea what all that means, but Mila said you would.’
‘Unfortunately, I do,’ said Guy.
‘Fine. Well, in which case, my work here is done. I’ll leave you to it,’ she said, making for the exit. Then she turned back. ‘Actually, there is one more thing.’
‘What?’ asked Guy, wondering what she could possibly have to add.
‘That little shit, Thomas, has managed to take D
addy’s job. Please find a way to make him pay.’
‘Sabrina, at the moment, I need to find a way to stay out of prison.’
‘Just in case an opportunity presents itself,’ she said, shrugging. ‘After all, it was you who introduced him to Daddy in the first place.’
Guy let the remark go. ‘Thank you, for warning me,’ he said.
‘Any time,’ she called over her shoulder.
‘Lulu,’ said Guy, hesitantly, when he heard the door shut, ‘there are some things I need to tell you.’
* * * * *
Lulu sat down at the table; this didn’t feel like a sofa conversation. ‘What’s going on, Guy?’ she asked.
He pulled out a paint-splattered wooden chair and sat too. ‘It’s a long story,’ he said, ‘but essentially, I’ve been helping other economies create commercial tech that can compete with the UK and US. And I’ve been sending illegal tech aid to Africa. I didn’t tell you earlier, because firstly, I didn’t want to make you an accomplice, and secondly, I wanted to protect the others involved. I trust you, implicitly, but I wouldn’t want any of the people I’ve been working with to divulge my involvement to anyone, regardless of who they were, and I wanted to extend them the same courtesy. However, our mutual friend Thomas has put an end to all that.’
‘I read about mysterious technology being delivered to rural areas in Africa,’ said Lulu. ‘I never thought it would be you.’
‘There are people dying,’ he said, simply. ‘I visited Africa when I was younger, just before my brother died. I was thinking about a role in politics, in international aid. What I saw there made absolutely no sense to me. We have so much tech over here, doing such silly, meaningless things for us: ironing our shirts, vacuuming our homes, cutting our grass, delivering us endless stuff. Over there, there are still areas where they don’t have clean drinking water, or enough food, or basic education. So, when I got back, I started a private engineering project with Tony to create two different types of robot that we could send to Africa. The hardware had to be reused from existing robots, or the manufacturing process would have attracted too much attention, but changing the software allowed for the appropriate modifications.’