by Max Hardy
Rebecca looks down upon Eve imploringly, her mental strength shining through the peril of our predicament, her empathy obvious. ‘You told us a lot of lies last night, but also a lot of truths. You are being played, just as we are. You said one thing in particular that I would ask you to seriously think on now. You said there had to be some greater purpose to warrant the death of the innocent, Michael, Sarah and at the time Jacob. Michael and Sarah bled for us. They were innocent angels and they bled for us. Please don’t let Jacob, our last little angel, bleed. You’ve heard Adam’s purpose for Jacob, and it’s not that great, in fact, it’s just religious bunk, but then neither is killing him just because Gabriel feels like it. Help us save our son. Where does Gabriel have him?’
Eve splutters as she tries to talk, her throat still raw and sore from Adam choking it. ‘They are no different, are they, Adam and Gabriel. When you bring it back to basics, they are psychopathic killers pretending to play God. I am so sorry I took Jacob. I thought Gabriel was trying to rid the world of the evil the Angels had created. All he really did was make me into a murderer too. He has him in the chapel.’
I help Eve to her feet, Rebecca doing the same, and we walk towards Adam, who is circling in an acrimonious apoplexy, the veins prominent and pumping on his exposed torso.
‘Welcome to the world of being played. Welcome to the world of being out of control. You need to calm down Adam, otherwise you will be of no use to anyone. This is only about one thing now, regardless of what you were trying to play. It’s about getting Jacob out alive, and not because of your warped understanding of what he is, but because he is an innocent little boy who has had no choice in any of this. Each and every one of us has had plenty of choices and chances to walk away, and yet here we all are. If that means each and every one of us dies trying, then that’s the way it will be. So you have a choice Adam, die trying to save Jacob, or die trying to kill Gabriel.’
Adam looks at me in a fiery rage, his body physically shaking from the chaos coursing through his veins. His eyes don’t leave mine, and I see his mind ticking in them, doing what I do when I lose control, trying to shore up the rickety rooms and compartmentalise everything. It’s the one thing I still don’t know. What are we to each other? Brothers or clones? What are we to Gabriel? His shaking starts to subside, calmness descending on him again, a complete composure enveloping him in the whisper of a second.
‘Follow me, the Chapel is this way.’ he instructs simply, not articulating his choice, then turns and heads for a large oak door in the far end of the hall, next to the open fire. He flips the rifle off his shoulder and directs it toward the door. We follow him, supporting Eve.
Adam eases the door open circumspectly, casting a quick glance down the corridor beyond. It is empty and quiet and he signals for us to proceed. Silence engulfs us as we surreptitiously stalk down the corridor, everyone’s eyes delving into every brooding shadow. We reach the end, Adam pointing to an ornate, stained glass door. He approaches it with stealth, placing his ear against the oak slats below the glass, listening keenly. There is no sound, so he slowly turns the metal ring handle, the slightest of squeaks coming from the metal bar latch lifting, then pushes to door gently. It glides silently open, surprisingly, not a sound from the old hinges. He pokes the rifle through the widening gap, into every corner, and stands as he sidles his body through, fully into the room.
‘No sign of Gabriel. Come in, but be cautious.’ he whispers. We oblige, and enter the sumptuously decorated chapel.
My eyes are instantly drawn to the altar about twenty metres ahead and Jacob’s prone body lying full length on his back on top of it. I run across the room towards him, Rebecca by my side. As I get closer, I notice tubes coming from his legs, six in each, flowing down onto the floor both sides of the altar. Rickety rooms break again, and a memory of my childhood, in the white room, floods in. They are the same tubes I had attached to my legs. I reach into my pocket as I near him, and pull out Ian Bear, bending his body until I hear a click. My mind is firing, my senses acute, listening around for Gabriel, being overwhelmed by seeing Jacob, just wanting to grab him and run from the room, but conscious that we could be shot down any second. For a moment though, all I want to do is hug my baby boy. We reach him, Rebecca a second before me and she is in kissing his cheek, tears streaming down hers. I wrap an arm around her back, and snuggle into them both, kissing Jacob as well, as I secrete Ian Bear into the fold of his neck.
‘Sorry son.’ I whisper through quivering lips, ‘Uncle Jerry says hello. He found Ian Bear for you. He told me to let you know to keep Ian close, and wherever Ian is, Uncle Jerry won’t be far behind.’
Rebecca turns her head up to me, surprise in her teary eyes. I nod imperceptibly. Then I see her eyes look past me, the surprise turning to panic, just as I hear a loud swishing noise. She grabs me and pulls me backwards, onto the floor, as a large, square glass container descends from the ceiling, trapping us within it. I jump to my feet, Rebecca doing likewise, and simultaneously we bang on the glass, Rebecca looking toward Jacob, while I look everywhere else, trying to see Gabriel.
What I see is Adam, dragging Eve to the other side of the altar, opposite us. What I see is Adam looking over to us, calmly efficient, his rifle flung over his shoulder. What is see is another square glass container drop from the ceiling around them as well. I look around the room quickly once more, knowing it is pointless, knowing that I won’t see Gabriel.
Adam looks across at us, a wry smile rising on his face as he bends his head, his neck cracking, and says, ‘Welcome to the end game John. Perhaps I should formally introduce myself. I am Gabriel.’
Chapter 37
Strange strode up the cellar stairs two at a time, then sprinted along the hallway of ‘Gihon’ and out into the road, circling around the building to his left, the early evening sun casting a red tinge to the clouds crouching low over Morpeth.
‘Did anyone at all come out? Even if they didn’t look like any of our suspects. Anyone at all?’ Strange shouted as he ran past the ARO’s at the side of the building, looking frantically into every surrounding doorway. The ARO’s shook their heads as Strange ran past them and around the back of the building, repeating the same mantra, all six ARO’s responding negatively. Strange slowed down as he came down the right side of the building, the ARO’s already shaking their heads negatively from hearing his shouted request carrying on the slight breeze. He walked disconsolately back to the front of ‘Gihon’, where Cruickshank was standing out front, her arms crossed vexed across her chest and a black brogue tapping of the tarmac impatiently.
‘Now that you’ve finished running around like a headless chicken, do you think we could get on with some real detective work?’ Cruickshank admonished harshly, before seeing the tears in the corners of Strange’s eyes. Her features softened slightly and she approached Strange, uncomfortably lifting a hand and placing it on his forearm reassuringly.
‘I just needed to check, Gaynor, for my own peace of mind. You are right, this is the worst degree of worse. What we can do now is get on to the council and see if there are any known tunnels in this area. Alongside that we will get uniform out immediately to continue the house to house. They were here two minutes ago, they can’t be far away now. We also need to bring the roadblocks in and tighten the cordon around the town.’ Strange replied, appreciative of her softened stance.
‘Sounds like a plan. I’ll call in and ask about the tunnels and sort the roadblocks out, you go and brief the ground troops.’ Cruickshank instructed, immediately taking the walkie-talkie from her pocket and talking into it. Strange nodded and headed off to the line of officers manning the perimeter.
‘Gentlemen, listen up.’ he shouted on approach. ‘The house is empty, but there was someone in there not long ago, which means they must still be in the immediate vicinity. I want the odd half of the cordon to immediately start house to house within this radius while the even half maintain the perimeter. Shields, you are number one.’ Strang
e finished, tapping Shields on the shoulder as he passed through the cordon, his attention caught by Harris running along the road toward him.
‘Sir.’ Harris shouted breathlessly as he slowed his sprint down, his PPE overalls scrunching noisily. He stopped in front of Strange, doubling over, dropped his bag on the road, and placed his hands on his knees while sucking in a huge lungful of air.
‘You are going to have to watch this physical exertion Ian, it’s going to kill you. What is it?’ Strange questioned, reaching out an arm to support his breathless colleague.
Harris straightened up, taking in another deep breath, then spoke. ‘I’ve just lifted a fingerprint off the wheel on the Evoque and entered in into PNC. We got a match straight away. It is Jessica Seymour’s.’
‘Hold on, hold on. That can’t be right. We had confirmation that the DNA found in the car crash was Jessica Seymour’s. We also had confirmation that the DNA found on Darrie’s body was from a third Eve clone, not Jessica Seymour’s.’ Strange ruminated. ‘There’s a pillory in the cellar in ‘Gihon’. Can you go and see if there’s any prints on it. There is also a pool of blood. Get that DNA tested as quickly as you can, and tell the lab that needs to be minutes, not bloody hours.’
‘Right away Sir.’ Harris responded, then picked his bag up and slightly less strenuously, headed towards ‘Gihon.’
Cruickshank approached Strange, watching quizzically as Harris trotted past. ‘What did Harris have?’
‘He found a print in the Evoque. It is Jessica Seymour’s. Our evidence tells us it can’t be hers, but that’s what he’s found. I’ve asked him to see if he can find anything on the pillory. We now have a CCTV image of her and a fingerprint. That’s not getting sloppy, that’s trying to tell us something.’ Strange pondered, looking down at Cruickshank’s intently listening face.
‘She’s pointed us towards Adam’s place. She’s making us aware that she is involved. Is she trying to help Saul and Angus? Is that what she is trying to tell us?’ Cruickshank offered.
‘Well if she is, thank fuck for that, because at the minute, they need all the help they can get. Still no signal.’ Strange finished, his expression concerned.
‘Be patient.’ Cruickshank started, just as Strange’s phone rang, Mr Boombastick adding levity to the sombre mood. Strange rifled around his pocket and pulled the phone out, hitting answer and putting it on speaker at the same time.
‘Jeremiah Strange.’ he introduced.
‘Ah, DCI Strange, it’s Professor Janice Auld here. We talked yesterday about Robert Caldwell and you asked me to call if I had any further information.’
‘Hello Jan, how are you? Yes I did. I’ve also got DCI Cruickshank here with me. What have you found out?’ Strange enquired.
‘Hi DCI Cruickshank. I’m doing well, still buzzing about what you brought to us. For some reason, we couldn’t find anything on our computer records for Robert Caldwell, so we’ve been digging into the paper archives and have found the student records for him. Interesting reading. He was a straight ‘A’, A level student and had an unconditional offer to get into the University. He studied Biomedicine here for two years and was always top of his class. His notes show that he had a particular interest in cell biology and was involved in some ground breaking research exploring the possibility of storing external information into the nuclear DNA at the heart of a cell. The other thing his records show is that he was a very highly strung student, extremely temperamental, very isolated and not at all sociable. He had quite a few altercations with the ethics committee on where he wanted to take his research, eventually leaving when they wouldn’t back him with his DNA experiments. We don’t have any records about where he went afterwards.’ Professor Auld relayed.
‘Do you think he could have been involved in what you have seen in the Seymour family?’ Cruickshank asked.
‘No, I don’t think so, he would have been too young. However, if he is part of the same family lineage as the people who were involved, then it would explain why he was so good at it. I think he wouldn’t have any misgivings about trying any genetic experiment, no matter what the morality or ethics involved.’ Auld finished.
‘Was there anything in the files about his family? Mother, father or siblings?’ Strange questioned.
‘Not that I saw. There’s no one here who remembers him that well to ask either.’ Auld answered.
‘Thanks Jan. That has been very useful. As always, if you think of anything else, just call.’ Strange wrapped up, then ended the call.
‘So John’s potential twin was ever so slightly mentally unbalanced and a genetic whizz kid. We also know that he is a murderer. John said this was all about Jacob. What kind of weird and warped experiments has Adam been trying out on him?’ Strange queried rhetorically, his features creased with the pain of the thought.
‘While the worst is we don’t have them, that’s not the worst it could be. At least we know they aren’t dead, yet. So we still have time. Not a lot I don’t think, but some. I should have trusted your judgement earlier about John as well. I can see now that he is trying to find out why and I can see that wherever possible, he is trying to help us.’ Cruickshank offered, with the slightest hint of humility breathing from her words.
Strange raised a silver eyebrow in surprise, a glint of humour entering his pained, furrowed face. ‘Gaynor Cruickshank, that wouldn’t be your attempt at an apology by any chance, would it.’
‘No Jerry, that’s me just being honest and stating the facts as I see them.’ she responded sternly, her eyes lighting up with the fire of affection for a second as she continued in a whisper, ‘I’ll apologise properly later.’ she finished, then turned abruptly and headed back towards ‘Gihon’.
Strange looked longingly after her for a second, whispering to himself. ‘I think this old codger might need to hang up his brazen braces, because that’s the woman who I want to be my home.’ Strange stepped after her, back towards ‘Gihon’, and caught up with her striding steps beside the front door, just as Harris came out.
‘Ian, have you got something helpful for us!’ Strange queried on seeing the Forensic Examiner.
‘I did manage to get a number of prints from the pillory. I can confirm that there was another one there for Jessica Seymour. I also found prints from John Saul, Rebecca Angus and a fourth print that we don’t have on file. That fourth print was all over the dungeon and all over the tubes with the torsos in as well. I need to get the blood away to the lab, but it’s going to be half an hour before it gets there and they have a chance to process it.’ Harris relayed.
‘Well, as soon as they have anything, let us know. I think it will just be for confirmation. A second fingerprint in the same place with the other three seals it for me. I think Jessica Seymour has been the clone involved all the way through this, and she has used the other two as distractions. I’m not quite sure at the minute who she has been trying to distract, but I think that’s been her play. Now, is that fourth print Adam’s or Gabriel’s?’ Strange offered, ushering Harris past, slapping his back as he went.
‘I think its Adam’s. What if she found out what Adam was up to, being part of the cult of Unas and involved in killing all of those women. Was that her play, to try and uncover him, without letting him know she knew? Trying to get Saul and Angus to help expose him?’ Cruickshank mused.
‘It’s a theory Gaynor, but a little light on facts.’ he teased, before continuing seriously. ‘They all know now that Adam was involved in killing those women. I just hope that has put them all on the same side in this, and that they can help each other, because right now, they are somewhere around here with two murderers, Adam and Gabriel. Anything from the Council on Tunnels yet?’ Strange finished.
‘Nothing yet, I asked them to call me when they did. I’ll give them a chase up, otherwise we’ll just be standing here like prize puddings.’ Cruickshank answered, taking her phone out of her pocket and redialling the last number.
‘Hello, DCI Cruickshank again. H
ave you found any plans yet? Oh you have. Were you planning on ringing me back, I did say it was urgent.’ she admonished, rolling her eyes towards Strange in frustration.
Strange reached into his pocket and pulled his phone out, clicking on the mapping application. He looked down at it with disappointed expectation, then scanned his perimeter, taking in the Chantry Bridge to his left, the houses and pubs on the far river’s edge, and the crenellations of the castle behind them. His phone beeped, a red dot appearing on the map.
‘So ‘Gihon’ was an old distillery, and there’s smugglers tunnels underneath, running under the river, towards the castle.’ Cruickshank relayed with agitated urgency.
‘John’s just activated the tracker.’ Strange interrupted and showed her his phone, the red dot on the map now pulsing and bleeping continually. ‘He has found Jacob, and they are in the Castle.’
Chapter 38
‘When you boil us all down to our basic components, we are nothing but a string of zeros and ones. On or off. There or not there. Then you build a collection of those ones and zeros up. More than three billion of them, to create a single strand of DNA that lives in a single cell. Then that single cell splits and creates us. Every bit of what we become starts with zeros and ones. On or off. There or not there. Chaos becomes simple when you understand that. Did you know that we have already developed the technology that allows us to store more than seven hundred terabytes worth of data in one gram of living DNA? That’s something like fifteen thousand High Definition movies, or seventy billion books, all in a single gram of DNA that can live in your body. That’s more books than you would ever be able to read in a million lifetimes. Just imagine what we could do, if we were able to store our memories there.’