by Andrew Lane
‘That girl has too much money and too few inhibitions. I would have brought her up very differently.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you would.’ Calum shivered for a moment, imagining the resulting fireworks if Natalie had been brought up by his great-aunt. ‘Perhaps it’s best for both of you that it never happened that way.’
Before his great-aunt could respond, the door opened and a maid entered carrying a tray bearing a pot of tea, two cups, a jug of milk and a plate of cakes.
‘You’re staying for tea and a bite to eat, of course?’ Merrily Challenger said as the maid put the tray on a side table and withdrew. She smiled fondly at him. ‘So tell me what’s been going on in your life. How’s that website of yours?’
‘The Lost Worlds?’ Calum asked, cringing inside. He wished he’d never told his great-aunt about the website. He’d mentioned it a year or so ago, just to make polite conversation during a lunch where she had insisted on telling him all about the accomplishments of remote relatives he was never likely, and never wanted, to meet. He’d realized while he was speaking that she didn’t really understand what he was talking about, but every time he’d seen her since she had asked him about it, in the same way she might ask about some passing hobby like learning the guitar or collecting stamps, or whether he’d got a girlfriend yet. ‘Yeah, it’s . . . going well.’
‘Good,’ she said briskly. ‘Have you managed to find any of those poor lost animals yet?’
He winced. He was pretty sure she’d got the wrong idea about the website. He had tried to explain as best he could that he was helping coordinate a search for missing species, but somehow during the conversation his aunt had translated ‘missing’ into ‘lost’, and he was pretty sure she now thought he was engaged in looking for cats, dogs or parrots that had wandered off from the family home.
‘Actually . . .’ he said delicately, ‘that’s not quite the kind of thing I’m doing. It’s more like . . . a conservation project. You know – trying to look for creatures that are on the verge of extinction, and helping save them.’
‘Oh, how lovely,’ she said. ‘You know, I’ve always had a soft spot for giant pandas. Ever since I was a girl I wondered how evolution could come up with a colour scheme for their fur where the only place they could possibly hide was on a zebra crossing. There can’t be many of those in their natural habitat.’
Calum raised his eyebrows in surprise. That was a surprisingly sharp comment. Maybe she had understood what he’d been saying after all.
‘Actually,’ he replied, ‘I’m more interested in creatures that haven’t yet been discovered, or that are supposed to already be extinct but which still survive in little colonies somewhere remote.’
She smiled at him. ‘Bless you, Calum, I think you think your great-aunt is rather simple in the head. I do know what it is that you’re doing. I’ve even logged into your website once or twice and taken a look. It’s very impressive, you know. You are doing exactly the kind of thing that your dear mother and father would have wanted you to do. They would have been proud.’
Calum felt a lump form in his throat. He hadn’t expected the conversation to turn so personal so soon.
‘Well,’ he said, blinking a few times so that his eyes would dry out, ‘that kind of leads me on to something that I wanted to ask you.’
‘Ah, this wasn’t a social call then?’ she said gently. He could sense the sadness behind the words.
He smiled reassuringly. ‘It wasn’t just a social call. I do enjoy your company, you know. It’s just . . . it’s not easy getting here. Not with . . .’ He let the sentence trail off, but patted his right leg.
‘I know. I understand. You don’t like admitting to any weakness. Your dear father was just the same. He was asthmatic, you know, but he never let that hold him back. And I’m glad that you do make the time to come. Now, what is it that you need? I presume it’s money? It usually is.’
‘It’s money,’ he confirmed.
‘I do hope it’s not for a Ferrari.’
He sighed. How many times? ‘No, it’s not for a Ferrari. I want to send some . . . friends of mine abroad.’
‘A holiday! How lovely! And how considerate of you!’
‘Not exactly a holiday. They’re going to go and check out a rumour that a particularly rare . . . animal . . . has been seen in Georgia.’
She clapped her hands together in delight. ‘Wisteria and mint juleps and men with white hats and white suits!’
‘No, not the American state of Georgia,’ he corrected. ‘The former Soviet republic of Georgia. It’s near Turkey.’
‘Oh.’ She sounded crestfallen. ‘That doesn’t sound like much fun.’
‘It’s not meant to be fun – it’s meant to be a serious scientific expedition.’
‘But . . . a former Soviet republic? Isn’t that dangerous?’
He shook his head. ‘Georgia’s very stable, apparently. Unless you go to the borders you can be pretty sure nothing bad is going to happen. And besides, my friends are going to be accompanied by an experienced guide. They’ll be perfectly safe.’
Calum had crossed his fingers, and moved his hand down behind his leg, where his great-aunt couldn’t see it.
Great-Aunt Merrily gazed at him, frowning. ‘You aren’t planning to go yourself, are you? I really couldn’t approve of that.’
‘No,’ he sighed. ‘No, I won’t be going.’
She tipped her head to one side and stared at him. ‘This is important to you?’
‘Yes.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Yes, it’s important.’
‘And how much do you think you will need?’
He had totted the figures up in his head the night before, while he was trying to get to sleep. ‘With flights, and hotels, and equipment, plus the payment for the guide, as well as insurance and inoculations . . . I think –’ he swallowed – ‘fifty thousand pounds ought to do it.’
‘That seems an awful lot,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m sure the hotels in Georgia can’t be that expensive.’
‘There is some special equipment that I need to get hold of – research equipment. And there’s going to be a guide as well – I can’t let them go by themselves. So, all in all, it isn’t cheap.’
She nodded. ‘Very well then. I can see that you have your heart set on this. I will transfer the money to your account later on, while Mr Macfarlane is driving you home.’
He let out a breath that he hadn’t known he was holding. ‘Thank you.’
‘And now help yourself to another cup of tea and a cake, while I tell you what your cousin twice removed has been up to . . .’
Calum managed to stay awake for the next couple of hours while his great-aunt gave him an exhaustive rundown of the events that had befallen various members of the Challenger family. She made sure that he was eating properly, that he was getting regular check-ups at hospital and that he was going to the dentist at least once every six months – everything that great-aunts were expected to do. In the absence of parents, of course.
All the time she was nattering on, he was thinking about the practicalities of getting Gecko and Tara to Georgia. Which airlines flew there? What were the hotels like? Would they need visas? Was it going to be safe for them? So many questions.
Eventually he said goodbye to his great-aunt. She hugged him tight, bending down to get to him in the wheelchair. ‘Take care, Calum. I do worry about you.’
‘I know,’ he said. He patted her shoulder. ‘I’m fine. Really I am.’
She gazed at him for a moment. ‘Why do I have a feeling that there’s something more going on here than you are telling me?’
‘That’s paranoia,’ he pointed out.
‘Your father used to say, Calum, that just because you’re being paranoid it doesn’t mean that someone isn’t out to get you.’
The door to Calum Challenger’s apartment was open a crack when Tara arrived.
She had slept uneasily in her college room, thinking about what had happened the day before
. Had she really agreed to travel to a former Soviet republic with a boy she’d only just met and a guide whose name was the only thing she knew about him? It had seemed to make more sense when it had been agreed. Now it seemed crazy.
Eventually she had realized that the only way to see whether it was all true, and not just a hallucination, was to head back to Calum’s apartment. So she did.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Calum was sitting in front of his computer screens. In front of him stood a woman. She was, Tara estimated, middle-aged, slim and attractive, and she was dressed with understated expense – silk blouse, tailored jacket and tight chino trousers. Her hands were on her hips and she was obviously in the middle of a very polite rant.
Tara suddenly spotted another person in the large apartment. Over in the kitchen area a girl of about her own age was pouring herself a glass of water. She was thin – almost painfully so – and her smooth brown tan was obviously the genuine article, rather than something that came out of a bottle or a tanning salon. She had long blonde hair that curled just as it hit her shoulders. She seemed to sense Tara watching her, looked up and nodded slightly in acknowledgement.
A rise in the volume of the discussion between Calum and the woman caught Tara’s attention. She raised her eyebrows at the girl in the kitchen and moved her attention back to the discussion. Or argument, as it was turning out.
‘. . . can’t possibly intend sending two teenagers that you’ve only just met to a country whose primary language neither of them speaks and whose northern border is still the subject of a violent dispute!’
‘For a start, I’m not “sending” them,’ Calum said calmly. ‘They don’t work for me. I’m not paying them. All that happened was that I explained about the Lost Worlds website, and this possible sighting of a Neanderthal-like creature in the foothills of the Caucasus Mountains, and they volunteered to go and take a look.’
That wasn’t quite the way Tara remembered it, but she decided not to say anything. That was a conversation they could have later. Especially the part about not being paid.
‘What’s the legality of this?’ the woman challenged. ‘Surely they count as unaccompanied minors? The airlines will refuse to fly them!’
‘They’ll be accompanied by this Special Forces guy you’ve recommended – Rhino Gillis,’ Calum pointed out. ‘And they’ll have letters signed by their parents or guardians allowing them to travel in his company. Gecko has already talked to his mother, and she’s apparently happy to let him travel wherever he wants. Her only stipulation is that she meets Rhino Gillis first.’
Gecko must have already arrived, then. Tara looked around, but couldn’t see him. A noise from above made er look up at the ceiling, and the skylight. Gecko was up there, fitting a new pane of glass to replace the one through which he’d crashed. He caught sight of her, and smiled.
‘“Gecko”?’ the woman said scornfully. ‘What kind of name is that?’
Calum was a model of patience. ‘His real name is Eduardo Ortiz, and he’s used to travelling alone. He’s done it before. He’s gone back and forth between here and Brazil a couple of times.’
‘And this girl? What do her parents say?’
Tara stepped forward. ‘This girl’s parents don’t say anything,’ she interrupted bluntly. ‘My dad’s in prison and my mum’s in and out of rehab so often that they reserve a room for her.’
The woman had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘Sorry – I didn’t realize you were there.’
‘Obviously not.’
‘You are . . . ?’
‘Tara. Tara Flynn.’ She raised an eyebrow questioningly. ‘And you are?’
‘Gillian Livingstone. I’m—’
‘Professor Livingstone is my guardian,’ Calum interrupted. ‘She looks after me. She and my great-aunt, anyway. They work in parallel to keep me on the straight and narrow.’ He waved at Tara. ‘Hi – thanks for coming back. I was getting worried.’
‘So if your mother and father are . . . not available,’ Professor Livingstone said, ‘who exactly is responsible for you?’
‘I’m responsible for myself. I look after myself.’
Gillian Livingstone was persistent. ‘But in the absence of your parents you must have some legal guardian, surely?’
‘There’s a social worker.’ She shrugged. ‘Actually, there have been a whole string of social workers. There’s a high turnover, apparently.’
‘Then surely we should be talking to them?’
Calum raised an eyebrow at the use of the word ‘we’, but obviously decided not to interrupt.
‘After several occasions when I ran away, including one when I got as far as Bahrain,’ Tara said calmly, ‘along with a couple of overly dramatic episodes of self-harm, my social worker and I came to an arrangement. If I went to college, got good reports from my tutors, didn’t do anything obviously illegal and phoned them every three days without fail, they would pretty much leave me alone to live my life the way I want. I’m sure they’ll write a letter of authorization for me to go abroad if I ask nicely, and if they know I’m going with someone responsible. Oh, and I’ve got a passport.’ She smiled. ‘I had to, in order to get to Bahrain.’
Professor Livingstone stared at Tara for a long moment. Tara stared back, not confrontationally, or even defensively, but without blinking or looking away. Eventually the professor nodded slightly, and turned back to Calum.
‘Well, you seem to have got this all sewn up. Merrily has already told me that she’s given you a line of credit. I suppose I’ll have to go along with it – reluctantly.’
‘Thank you.’ Calum smiled, and Tara was struck by how much better he looked. With the borderline-sullen expression taken off his face, his eyes seemed to sparkle.
‘Has Rhino made contact yet? I phoned him yesterday, just after we spoke.’
Calum nodded. ‘Yes – he emailed me last night.’ He frowned. ‘I’ve got to say he sounded quite tense.’
‘I gather he’s had a spot of trouble in the USA. I think he is glad of the opportunity to leave.’
‘When does he fly in?’
‘Ah. That’s something I wanted to speak to you about – assuming I couldn’t persuade you to change your mind, that is.’
‘Since when have you ever been able to change my mind once it’s been made up?’
The professor’s mouth twitched in what might have been a smile had she not quickly suppressed it. ‘In that respect, as in so many others, you take after your father. Anyway – once I described the mission, the location and –’ she glanced at Tara and then upward at Gecko – ‘the rather unusual composition of the party, he suggested that there was a new piece of equipment that the US army are working on that might come in useful. I pulled some strings, and they’re willing to lend one of them to you, as long as they can analyse the readings from it when it comes back. They’re keen to give it some real-world experience.’
‘Sounds interesting, if a little puzzling. Are they going to send it over, or is Rhino going to collect it?’
‘Slightly more complicated than that – there’s a full day’s training course involved. Rhino suggested that you go over and join him on the course, but I pointed out that it would be impractical.’
‘This equipment – is it technical?’
Gillian Livingstone nodded. ‘Very. I’ve got a couple of documents in my bag that will tell you all about it – give me a minute and I’ll let you read them.’
‘Then Tara ought to go out and meet Rhino,’ Calum said firmly. ‘They can do the course together.’
Tara blinked a couple of times as her brain slowly processed the information. ‘You want me to go to America?’ she exclaimed.
Professor Livingstone looked at her watch. ‘Too late today,’ she said. ‘We’ll aim for tomorrow. The flight will leave at lunchtime. You won’t need a visa. Rhino will meet you at Dulles Airport, and drive you to where the course will be taking place. It’s called the Aberdeen Provi
ng Ground – it’s just up from Baltimore. Driving distance. Part of the US Army Research Laboratories.’ She glanced at Calum, whose mouth was hanging open slightly. ‘Buck up, Calum. If you want to arrange an expedition, there’s a lot to do, and a lot to think about.’
Calum glanced at Tara. ‘Are you OK with this?’
She considered for a moment. Getting the chance to play with high-tech US military equipment for free? Maybe take some photos?
Ah, yes. That might be a problem. Her . . . reputation.
‘Sounds great,’ she said. ‘But . . . don’t I need some kind of . . . security clearance?’
Professor Livingstone shook her head. ‘The equipment has been developed by a major international company for whom I do some consultancy work. New Scientist have covered it. National Geographic printed photos. I think there’s even a Discovery Channel documentary that mentions it. I’ll sort out your entry visas and I’ve already vouched for you and Rhino, so getting to play with it won’t be a problem. Besides, you’re trustworthy, aren’t you?’
‘Totally,’ said Tara, crossing her fingers behind her back.
Calum frowned. ‘Actually,’ he said, ‘talk of a major international company reminds me – you never answered my question about Nemor Incorporated. Have you ever heard of them?’
A shiver ran up Tara’s spine at the mention of the company. She glanced over at Professor Livingstone, whose face was smooth and expressionless.
‘No,’ she said calmly. ‘The name’s a mystery to me.’
She was holding her right hand casually behind her back, and Tara had the sudden and disquieting thought that maybe her fingers were crossed.
CHAPTER
seven
The arrivals and departures hall at Dulles International Airport, some thirty miles out of Washington DC, was a cavernous area with a curved concrete roof. It felt airy and oppressive at the same time, which, Rhino Gillis thought, was quite a feat of engineering. Fortunately it was air-conditioned, which was a relief considering the marshy heat outside.
A row of check-in areas dominated the centre of the building, covering almost every airline that Rhino could think of and quite a few that he couldn’t. Wherever he looked there were armed police officers wandering around, conspicuous in their dark blue uniforms and caps. Slightly less obvious were the undercover air marshals in their blazers and slacks. They might just have been businessmen or politicians on their way home, if it weren’t for the slight bulge of a holster beneath the jacket of each one, and the uniformity of their hairstyles. Given the continuing likelihood of terrorist attacks directed against American aircraft, Rhino wasn’t surprised to see them, but he did think they could do more to blend in.