by H. R. Moore
‘Hi Billy,’ he said, his voice glum.
‘Hi,’ replied a five-foot-tall woman with peroxide blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. ‘It’s a sad day,’ she said.
‘How do you know?’ asked Benji, suddenly on high alert.
Billy gave him a ‘Come on now’ look. ‘You asked me to clear the warehouse,’ she replied. ‘No exceptions. “Make absolutely sure nobody is inside the building”, remember?’
Benji nodded.
‘That can mean only one thing,’ she said, ‘and it’s devastating, for everyone involved.’
‘I know,’ said Benji, thinking that he’d have to promote her. ‘Devastating,’ he replied, not knowing what else to say. ‘But we may as well get it over and done with. Is everyone out?’
‘Yes,’ said Billy. ‘I’ve double checked and triple checked. There’s no one here but you and me.’
‘Fine,’ he said, sighing again. ‘Have you got your key?’
‘Right here,’ she said, holding it up and walking, with Benji, to the newly installed control panel. Benji looked at it with regret. Complete waste of time, he thought, remembering bitterly the trouble and costs involved in installing this system at such short notice. They put their physical keys in the mechanisms and turned them together. A sensor pad appeared, and they both put a hand on it, before each typing in a code. Benji pressed a button to confirm the instruction. A light started blinking, and a countdown timer appeared.
‘Time to get out of here,’ said Billy, picking up her bag and heading for the exit, Benji swiftly following behind.
They left the building, ensured both doors were fully sealed behind them, and then headed back to the main street. They crossed the road, entered the nondescript newsagent on the other side, and waited, pretending to browse the glossy magazines. Benji marvelled that any paper publications had managed to survive the tech revolution, but they had. Some things just looked and felt better in print. Flicking through pictures in a magazine was a ritual that some people craved, and if people were willing to pay for it, there was always someone willing to provide it.
They waited the full five minutes, which passed with agonising leisure, each of them nervously checking their smart watches at frequent intervals. Eventually, they heard a low rumble, then saw the column of fire, like an upside-down rocket engine raging out of the top of the building. Benji looked nervously at the building’s walls. He had employed the best engineers to fit the protective inner casing, but if it failed, the whole building would come down, and take half the street with it.
‘Oh my God,’ shouted the shopkeeper, pulling out his smart glasses and calling the fire brigade. Benji and Billy walked outside to get a better view, their faces pained. All that potential, up in flames.
* * * * *
‘Lulu,’ said Guy, stroking the hair back off her face, carefully watching her expression in the morning light. They were at Guy’s house by the sea, having decided the previous night it would be safer there than at Lulu’s tech-free home. His bedroom suite took up half of the back of the house, complete with the most incredible view over the sea.
‘It must be amazing in here when it’s stormy outside,’ said Lulu, looking at the flat calm water from where she lay on the bed. It felt wrong for the sea to be so docile at such a turbulent moment in their lives.
‘Lulu,’ repeated Guy, leaning back against the headboard.
‘When are you going?’ she asked, knowing they’d put off this conversation for as long as was safe.
‘Today,’ he replied, watching intently for her reaction. ‘Benji’s just destroyed the facility. The authorities will be picking over the wreckage as we speak, and when Iva gets wind of it and realises we’ve destroyed the robots, she’ll come straight for me. There’s no reason for her to hold off any longer.’
‘But without the robots, she doesn’t have any proof,’ said Lulu, shaking her head, trying to think of anything that would mean he didn’t have to go.
‘She’s got Thomas, and he has all the financial records,’ Guy replied, taking hold of her hand and playing with her fingers. ‘There’s no future for me here.’
‘Who’ll take over your company?’ asked Lulu. ‘Who’ll continue the work you’ve been doing in Africa?’
‘Benji will be COO, and he’ll handle things until the board can recruit a new me. As for the African project,’ he said, regretfully, ‘that will cease to exist.’
‘It can’t,’ she said, ‘what about all those people who’ll die without your help?’
‘I’m going to Africa,’ said Guy, gently. ‘I’m going to do what I can to help them develop their own technology, but it’ll be slow going, and I’ll be a fugitive, and I won’t have anything like the resources I have here.’
‘What about me?’ said Lulu, tears in her eyes. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but this wasn’t it.
‘Come with me.’
‘What?’
‘Come with me,’ he repeated, his expression telling her he meant it.
‘Become a fugitive too?’
‘You wouldn’t have to be a fugitive. You could legitimately move to Africa. You could say you’re looking for new creative inspiration, somewhere life is completely different from here.’
‘But I’d give away your location. It would be the first place Iva would look for you.’
‘But luckily, since the West refuse to share their tech with African countries, most African countries refuse to cooperate with the West. Even if she did find me, the likelihood of her being able to have me extradited is extremely low. And it’s a risk I would willingly take to have you there with me.’
‘Jesus, Guy, I can’t believe this. Yesterday this wasn’t even on the horizon and now you’re asking me to give up my life and leave the country?’
‘I know it’s a lot to take in, but you can take as long as you need to decide. I’m going today; I’ve got to get out before Iva gets here, but you can come and join me anytime. I know roughly where I’m going, but not exactly. I’ll be in contact with Benji, so he’ll help you find me.’
‘You’re not telling me where you’re going?’ she asked, feeling as though Guy had just slapped her across the face. ‘You don’t trust me?’
‘Of course I trust you,’ said Guy, looking down into her eyes. ‘But you’re going to be one of the first people Iva takes in for questioning when she realises I’ve gone. She’ll interrogate you, threaten you, tempt you, throw everything she can at you to make you tell her where I am. And she’ll use lie detector technology.’
‘Oh,’ said Lulu.
‘I don’t want to put you in a position where Iva knows you’re lying to her. Then you’d either be done for obstructing the course of justice, or have to tell her my location.’
‘Okay,’ she said, relief flooding through her. ‘But how come you’re going to tell Benji? Won’t you be putting him in the same position?’
‘I’m not going to tell Benji,’ said Guy. ‘I’ll find a way to get in contact with him once I’m out there.’
Lulu sat up to face him. ‘Should I tell her I know you’re going to Africa?’
‘Yes, if it comes to that. I’d prefer she doesn’t know anything, but if you have to, you can tell her that much.’ Lulu leant back next to him and Guy dropped an arm around her shoulders.
She pressed herself into the warmth of his body, breathing him in, revelling in him. She wondered when she’d see him next. He kissed her, sliding her down onto the bed, his lips caressing hers, her mind flooded with him, blocking out everything but him. ‘Come with me,’ he murmured. ‘Today. Now. Don’t stay here. Don’t think about it, just come and be with me.’ She pressed a hand to his cheek, stroking her thumb across his lips. It would be so easy to say yes. He held her gaze with hopeful eyes. ‘I love you,’ he said.
Lulu smiled, euphoria coursing through her. ‘I love you too.’
‘Then come with me,’ he implored, fingers tracing up her neck, into her hair. He pressed his forehead to he
rs, closing his eyes. ‘Please, come with me.’
Lulu’s mind raced. The silence stretched and Guy opened his eyes, looking at her expectantly, hopefully. ‘Guy,’ she started, her voice hesitant. ‘I will come with you, but,’ she added quickly, as she took in Guy’s reaction, ‘not today.’
‘Oh,’ said Guy, shoulders slumping with rejection.
‘There’s something I have to do here first,’ she said, pulling him back to her as he tried to sit up, to put space between them. ‘Then I’ll come and find you. I promise. I love you.’ Her eyes held his, trying to make him understand that she meant it. ‘No matter what happens, I will come and find you. I want to be with you; there’s nothing I want more.’
‘What do you need to do? Can I help?’
‘No,’ she replied, firmly. ‘You just concentrate on getting out of the country. That’s your job. My job is something else entirely.’
* * * * *
Guy kissed Lulu goodbye on the jetty at the bottom of the cliff below his house. He pulled himself away, climbing into the waiting boat, then powered out to sea. Guy hadn’t told Lulu anything else about how he would get to Africa; he’d said he couldn’t travel as normal, obviously, Iva would have made sure of that, but he’d had a contingency plan in place for some time, knowing deep down that eventually he’d have to use it. Today was that day, she sighed, as he raced across the flat calm sea.
Lulu turned and climbed the steep steps back to the house. She asked a robot to make her a coffee, sat down, and waited, looking out over the sea and wondering how long it would take for Iva to turn up. Guy’s boat disappeared, and she hoped he was far away before Iva realised what was happening.
Would Iva go to Guy’s office in Oxford first, or Lulu’s house in Devon, or would she come straight here? Lulu got her answer more quickly than she would have liked. She was on her way for a swim to try and clear her head, when the front gate alarm screamed through the silence. Guy had told her not to hang around here, had urged her to go back to Devon, or anywhere that had nothing to do with him, but she’d always had a reckless streak, and she wanted to see the look on Iva’s face when she realised Guy had slipped through her fingers. The one Iva had been trying to bring down for her entire career, gone beyond her reach.
Lulu opened the gate, then went to the front door to watch as they arrived. A convoy of four large vehicles pulled up and bodies in black uniforms started pouring out, moving like ants around the side of the house as well as in through the front door. Iva stepped out of the front car, accompanied by Mila, who was projecting a warrant using her smart glasses.
‘He’s not here,’ said Lulu, evenly, ‘although, according to that,’ she said, indicating towards the warrant, ‘you’re allowed to search the place and seize what you want, so I’m sure you’ll have a thorough rootle around anyway. Can I get you a tea or coffee?’ she asked, sweetly.
* * * * *
Mila eyed Lulu suspiciously. Had she worked out that Mila was behind Sabrina’s tip-off? Was she planning to tell Iva? She didn’t know the artist, didn’t understand her motives, and that worried her.
‘Where is he?’ asked Iva, her voice snapping, as though she were some kind of military general and Lulu a lowly soldier.
Lulu raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m afraid I’m not sure.’
‘Arrest her,’ Iva said to Mila, furiously. Mila stayed rooted to the spot.
‘Who tipped him off?’ Iva spat, closing the gap between them so her face was only inches from Lulu’s. ‘Who told him?’ she repeated, slowly, trying to intimidate.
‘I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ said Lulu, her features an impenetrable mask. ‘Tipped him off about what?’
‘You’re playing a dangerous game,’ said Iva. ‘I will arrest you for perverting the course of justice.’
‘In relation to what?’ asked Lulu, irritated. ‘Why are you here?’
Iva looked suddenly unsure. ‘Take her to the kitchen,’ said Iva, ‘and stay there with her.’ Her eyes followed Mila, her face full of suspicion.
Iva’s enforcers searched Guy’s beautiful home, pulling everything apart, taking pictures off the walls, seizing all tech, recording everything on their smart glasses so they could pick over it all later. Lulu winced as she saw her pictures being handled with rough, uncaring hands.
‘He’s not here,’ said one of the men to Iva, when they were convinced they’d searched every nook and cranny.
‘And he’s not at any of his other known residences, or offices, or favourite projects, or hangouts.’
Iva turned to Mila, her stare accusing. ‘Well?’ she demanded.
Mila refused to buckle under Iva’s hostile gaze. ‘I thought he’d be here,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘It made the most sense from what I know of Guy.’
‘Where is he?’ said Iva, rounding on Lulu. ‘Where has he gone?’
‘I’m afraid I genuinely don’t know. In fact, he refused to tell me, because he didn’t want to put me in an awkward position. Can someone please tell me what this is all about?’
Iva ignored Lulu’s question. ‘Who tipped him off?’ she demanded, hitting the table with her palm. ‘How has this happened?’
Lulu shrugged, but didn’t say a thing.
Iva rounded on Mila. ‘It was you,’ she accused. ‘I knew it was a bad idea to let you stay on this case. I knew you’d be loyal to your roots, just like the rest of them. You’re fired.’
‘Iva,’ said Mila, with more confidence than she felt. ‘You can’t fire me, because I’ve done nothing wrong. It’s illegal to fire someone on a whim, so if you really want to do this, it will cost you your job.’
Iva looked Mila directly in the eye. ‘You. Are. Fired.’
‘I’ll be leaving then,’ she said lightly. ‘My legal team will be in touch.’
There was something about the way Mila said ‘legal team’ that made Iva shudder. Mila’s family were formidable, their resources were considerable, and Iva would be a fool not to be at least a little intimidated by her threat.
‘I’ll come with you,’ said Lulu. ‘I need to go to Bristol, so we can share a car at least part of the way.’
‘No,’ said Iva, ‘I won’t allow you two to travel together.’
‘You just fired me,’ said Mila, ‘so I am no longer under your command. And you have no legitimate reason to arrest Lulu, unless there’s something I don’t know?’
Iva shook her head and waved her hand in frustration before walking out of the room. ‘Didn’t think so,’ said Mila, under her breath, as she and Lulu headed for the door.
CHAPTER 15
Lulu pulled up at the Glen Murray retirement village. It was like something out of The Stepford Wives; everything perfectly manicured, the grass a lush, flawlessly cropped green, the trees pruned into immaculate shapes, the road’s surface smooth and without blemish, the white picket fences a blazing fresh white, and the variously sized but almost identical clapboard houses dotted around the plot, all pristinely clean and tidy.
Lulu rolled down the window of her autonomous taxi, and, to her surprise, found a real-life woman sitting in the little hut by the gate.
‘Hi,’ she said, brightly. ‘How can I help you?’
‘I’m here to see Tony Strathclyde,’ she said, ‘although he’s not expecting me.’
‘No problem,’ said the middle-aged woman with badly dyed hair, ‘it’s rare for our residents to turn away a visitor; most of them don’t get them as often as they’d like. What’s your name?’ She gave her smart glasses a silent instruction to call Tony.
‘Lulu Banks,’ she replied.
The woman did a double take. ‘The Lulu Banks?’ she asked, trying to get a good look at her through their respective windows.
‘Yes,’ she sighed, with friendly reluctance.
‘Lovely to meet you,’ the woman said, smiling and taking the hint. ‘Ah, Mr Strathclyde, I have a visitor for you.’ She paused and frowned at what was obviously a sharp rebuff from Tony. ‘Of
course, Mr Strathclyde, I totally understand, it’s just that it’s Lulu Banks, not a window salesman.’ This clearly did the trick as the lady smiled broadly. ‘Yes, certainly, Mr Strathclyde, I’ll send her up right away.’
The lady turned back to Lulu. ‘He would be delighted to see you,’ she said, beaming, as though she’d done Lulu a tremendous favour. ‘You can go through.’ The barrier lifted.
‘Which house is Mr Strathclyde’s?’ Lulu asked.
‘Oh, sorry, I assumed you knew. He lives in one of the penthouse flats in the main house at the top of the drive. Just ask for him at reception if he isn’t already there to meet you.’
‘Thank you,’ said Lulu, then told her car to drive on.
The car travelled noiselessly over the smooth tarmac, winding its way along the meandering road, taking far longer than would have been necessary, had the road been straight. Once they passed through the first collection of cottages, the road straightened out, turning into a tree-lined avenue, which ended at an impressive-looking manor house, which, again, was in immaculate condition.
Her car reached the large turning circle in front of the house, and a man in a uniform approached, opening the door for her and offering her his hand.
‘Thank you,’ she said, taken aback by all the human help about the place.
‘This way please, Miss Banks,’ he said, politely. ‘Mr Strathclyde is waiting for you in the orangery. ‘Do you have any bags you’d like me to carry?’
‘No, thank you,’ she said, bemused by the parallel universe she seemed to have stepped into. There was certainly tech here, of that there was no doubt, but none of it was visible. Must be how the residents like it, she thought. Must remind them of their youth, back in the good old days.
‘Just through here,’ said the human butler, showing her through a side door into a magnificent orangery, a number of lush green plants and comfortable seating arranged artfully throughout.