Blood Ransom

by Sophie McKenzie

  Max out.

  Max.

  Of course. ‘I’ve just thought of someone who could help us do it faster,’ I said with a grin.

  23

  Rachel

  I woke with a start. For a second I was completely disoriented. Then everything that had happened flooded back.

  Trying to save Daniel. Milo’s betrayal. The suicide he’d faked . . . my suicide.

  A chill raced through me, as the horror of my situation fully registered.

  I looked around the room. No window. And my phone was totally out of power – I couldn’t even check to see what time it was.

  Across the room, the door handle turned. I sat up as it opened and a tall man with dark hair and a designer suit walked in.

  ‘Hello, Rachel,’ he said smoothly. ‘What a great pleasure it is to see you again.’

  A small part of the answer to the million questions in my head slid into place, as I registered who I was looking at – Elijah Lazio.

  24

  Theo

  My amazing hacker friend Max was gobsmacked to hear from me. I found her mum’s number through the online directory, then called her that evening – Sunday. After she’d stopped demanding to know where I’d been for the past nine months, she agreed to do a search on Dean McRae, though I refused to tell her why.

  ‘It’s for your own protection,’ I said.

  ‘Jesus, Theo.’ Max laughed. ‘You sound just like your mum back when she wouldn’t tell you why you had a bodyguard.’

  The reminder of Mum made me feel guilty. I quickly changed the subject, asking Max about her own life. We’d known each other since we were babies – our mothers were friends. As she spoke I found myself lost in thoughts of my old life at school in London, when Max and I were kids and this other guy, Jake, was my best friend.

  ‘D’you still see Jake?’ I said.

  ‘Yeah, he comes round all the time.’ Max laughed. ‘Mostly just to annoy me.’

  ‘Sounds like Jake,’ I said.

  For a second I wished I was back in the safety and ignorance of the past, a place where I’d never even heard of RAGE or Elijah Lazio.

  Then I pushed the thought away. There was no point in wishing anything different. Everything was as it was.

  Anyway, without all those other things I would never have met Rachel.

  True to her ace hacker reputation, Max found six Dean McRaes in the Glasgow area within half an hour. A couple of them had some kind of police record. Lewis discounted those two straight away.

  ‘RAGE wouldn’t use anyone like that. Neither would Elijah. They’d want their witness to be completely credible.’

  I nodded, checking through the details Max had sent through for the other four men.

  ‘It’s him,’ I said, pointing to the second on the list.

  Lewis looked over my shoulder and read out loud:

  ‘Dean McRae, 22, engineering student . . . interests include war memorabilia and martial arts.’

  Lewis raised his eyebrows. ‘Why him?’

  ‘It’s the martial arts,’ I said. ‘Remember all those books in Rachel’s room? Her dad said she’d been to some sort of martial arts show just before she disappeared.’

  ‘It’s definitely a connection,’ Lewis said. ‘The witness who saw her on the beach said he recognised her from that same show.’ Lewis clicked through to the attached pic of Dean McRae. It was from a student ID card and fairly blurry, but his hair was close-cropped and his nose looked squashed and broken, just as Mr Smith had described.

  ‘I reckon he works for RAGE.’ I looked at Lewis. ‘You worked undercover there for a year, didn’t you? What d’you think? Does he look like he’d fit in there?’

  Lewis shrugged. ‘RAGE takes in all sorts – from idealistic hippies against genetic modification to thugs who are just looking for an excuse to beat up on people. This guy might just as well work for Elijah as for RAGE.’

  There was something particularly bitter about the way he said Elijah’s name. I’d only heard him sound that bitter once before . . . about Mel.

  I stared at him, suddenly realising what Lewis was really focused on. ‘You hope McRae works for Elijah, don’t you? You hope all this will lead you to Elijah.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ Lewis muttered.

  ‘I’m not,’ I said. ‘You might care about Rachel and want to save her, but you’re also hoping that you’ll find Elijah. That’s why you’re spending all this time and money. It’s to lead you to Elijah so you can take revenge for Mel!’

  Lewis glared at me. ‘He killed her in front of me . . . in front of you and Rachel . . . totally unprovoked . . . just because she’d been with me . . .’

  I nodded. ‘I know.’ I felt uncomfortable now. Lewis looked so angry and upset. ‘I’m just saying our priority has to be Rachel, that’s all.’

  ‘Of course.’ Lewis looked away.

  There was an awkward silence for a moment or two.

  ‘Let’s check in with Max,’ I said eventually. ‘See how she’s getting on.’

  It turned out that Max hadn’t managed to find an address for McRae, but the college where he was studying engineering was listed. Lewis and I set off for it straight away, hoping that McRae would turn up for school first thing on Monday morning.

  We found a B&B near the college and, while Lewis took a shower, I went outside and used the call box I’d noticed to phone Mum.

  It was now almost twenty-four hours since I’d sent her the text from my old mobile. I took a deep breath as I punched in our home number. I knew I had to let her know I was okay – Lewis had already nagged me about it several times – but I wasn’t looking forward to the bollocking I was likely to receive.

  In the end, I just got the answerphone. I left a short message, repeating my lie about having gone off for a few days with a friend. I knew Mum wouldn’t buy it, just like I knew she would be beyond furious when we finally saw each other again. But, right then, I didn’t care.

  I rang off, wondering vaguely if I should try Mum’s mobile. After all, if she wasn’t at home that probably meant she was out looking for me somewhere.

  Another twinge of guilt.

  I got into bed and tried to focus on what we had to do tomorrow: find McRae and make him tell us what really happened to Rachel.

  I hoped it was going to be as easy as it sounded.

  25

  Rachel

  Elijah Lazio folded his arms, clearly enjoying the shocked look on my face.

  ‘Surprised to see me, Rachel?’ He stared at me appraisingly. A mean smile twisted across his lips. ‘Milo did well to trick you – I can see you’ve lost that innocent, trusting manner you had last year.’

  ‘What are you going to do with me?’ I said. ‘And where’s Daniel? What’ve you done with him?’

  ‘All in good time, Rachel,’ Elijah said, brushing a speck of dust off his expensively-cut suit.

  ‘I see Milo was lying about you needing a heart transplant,’ I said.

  ‘I had one.’ Elijah flicked his little finger impatiently.

  ‘Is that . . .?’ I couldn’t bear to think what that might mean. ‘How . . .?’

  Elijah sighed. ‘I worked out a way of adapting Daniel’s heart so that the transplant I needed could take place. It was performed nearly seven months ago and it worked. Obviously.’

  I stared at him, unable to take in what he was saying. ‘So . . . Daniel’s dead?’

  Elijah shrugged. ‘A necessary sacrifice, I’m afraid.’ He paused. ‘I had to take Daniel’s heart, but the procedure was not unproductive. As you can see, I’m fitter than ever.’

  I looked at him. It was true, his face was less lined and grey than I remembered. My whole being filled with hatred and revulsion. I clenched my fists, feeling the bile rise in my throat. How could Elijah do such a thing – and to a little boy?

  ‘I’m sorry you were lied to, Rachel, but it was necessary to bring you here.’

  ‘H-how did you find me?’

 
; ‘One of the agents assigned to you under the government protection programme sold you out.’ Elijah smiled at my shocked face. ‘In case you were wondering, I have limited security on the island, which is why I had Milo bring you straight to the house. Plus I wanted to give Milo a chance to prove himself. He may be crippled, but he has his uses.’ He paused. ‘His code name is Hephaestus, you know . . . the lame God . . . another son of Zeus. You remember my code name, Zeus?’

  I nodded. God, it was all flooding back, the detached, dispassionate way that Elijah always spoke about his cloning work. A sob rose inside me.

  He had killed Daniel. I couldn’t believe it. Except it made sense. Elijah had been prepared to sacrifice Theo in exactly the same way, for exactly the same reason . . .

  I closed my eyes, feeling the grief swell inside me.

  ‘Rachel?’

  ‘You’re . . . evil . . .’ My voice broke as I looked up at him.

  Elijah sighed. ‘I’ll leave you alone . . . talk to you later . . .’ He took a step to the door.

  ‘No.’ I wiped at my eyes; I needed answers. ‘Tell me why I’m here.’

  Elijah leaned against the wall. His dark eyes – so like Theo’s – studied me carefully. ‘I need you,’ he said.

  ‘Need me?’ I said suspiciously. ‘What for?’

  ‘Did Theo ever mention the Hermes Project to you?’

  I tried to remember. The name was familiar and Hermes, I knew, was another of the Greek gods.

  ‘Isn’t . . . wasn’t Hermes . . . er, Daniel’s code name?’ I said. As I said his name, another wave of misery threatened to overwhelm me. Daniel had looked just like Theo when he was younger. It was like . . . like learning Theo’s little brother had been killed.

  I couldn’t imagine how awful Theo was going to feel when he found out.

  Elijah was still leaning against the wall, his cold, dark eyes intent on my face. ‘I called my project after Daniel – Hermes – because he was the first healthy clone that I kept with me. Which meant he was the first clone I was able to experiment on.’

  Ugh. ‘What sort of experiments?’

  ‘Lots of things . . .’ Elijah said with a vague wave of his hand. ‘The Hermes Project is a research programme designed to compare clones with non-clones, to find out what strengths and weaknesses belong to each. Part of the programme examines IQ and physical abilities. The other looks at genetic codes and DNA programming.’

  ‘And the government let you stay on this island, working on that? Not . . . not caring that you’ve killed people?’

  ‘No, the government does not allow this, Rachel.’ Elijah sighed and ran his hand through his hair – a gesture I’d often seen Theo make. ‘If Milo told you that, it was another lie. I’m still a wanted man you’ll be pleased to hear, although I do have a backer who believes in my research. And he has powerful connections which offer me some degree of protection. But we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about the Hermes Project – and that’s where you come in.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘As you know, I cloned you from your older sister, after she died. I don’t know whether your sister carried this . . . genetic quirk, or whether it’s only in you, but there’s something . . . special . . . in your DNA which I need to examine. I’ve been working off a single strand of your hair – that’s all I had with me – but now my tests can be more extensive. It’s just some blood I need, nothing too invasive.’

  I stared at him. ‘You brought me all the way to this island just to do some blood tests on me?’

  I didn’t believe it, but Elijah stared back at me, his dark eyes steady.

  ‘Yes.’

  26

  Theo

  Monday morning. Nine a.m. Lewis and I were standing outside McRae’s college, waiting for him to arrive.

  We’d already checked and there was a lecture on his subject that morning at 10.30. We kept our eyes peeled as a steady stream of male students wandered past us.

  At about 9.45, it started raining. There was still no sign of McRae. If he didn’t show up we were going to have to ask around, find out where he lived . . . track him down some other way. We were closing in, I knew, but I couldn’t help but feel impatient. Rachel had last been seen on Saturday afternoon – over thirty-six hours ago. Anything could have happened to her since then . . . be happening to her.

  The rain drizzled down. Rachel hadn’t exaggerated how wet it was here. I pulled my hood up and huddled back against the wall. More time passed. Ten a.m. . . . 10.15 . . . 10.25 . . . Most students had arrived. The rain stopped, though the sky stayed iron grey.

  And then I saw him. Dean McRae – complete with close-cropped red hair and squashed-in nose. He was sauntering across the pavement, a bag of books slung over his back, chatting to the guy next to him. I caught Lewis’s eye across the doorway. He nodded, then set off towards McRae.

  I hung back for a second, watching.

  Lewis reached McRae. He flipped open a wallet, showing what I knew was a fake press ID card.

  ‘I’m a reporter from the Gazette,’ he said, in an English accent. ‘I’d like to ask you some questions about the suicide you witnessed at the weekend.’

  McRae frowned. ‘I’m not supposed to talk to any—’

  ‘It’s all off the record.’

  McRae hesitated. He whispered something to the guy he’d been walking with, who chuckled and hurried on inside.

  ‘Off the record?’ McRae said. ‘That means you won’t quote my name or say I’m the eyewitness?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Lewis held up his wallet again: this time a line of twenty-pound notes poked out of the top. ‘I can make it worth your while.’

  Another pause. McRae glanced at his watch, clearly wondering if the conversation Lewis wanted to have was worth ditching his lecture for.

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘But not inside the college.’

  ‘Sure,’ Lewis said. ‘It won’t take long. Why don’t we just go round the corner, out of the rain?’

  They set off. I followed at a short distance.

  Round the corner, out of sight, Lewis darted forward. He shoved McRae against the wall. The man’s eyes widened.

  ‘What the . . .?’ McRae raised his hand, turning sideways to aim a kick. But Lewis was too fast. He skipped past McRae’s leg, grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. With his other hand he made a fist and pushed it against McRae’s throat. McRae gasped, straining to breathe.

  For a second I thought he was going to crush McRae’s windpipe. That same furious-bitter look was in his eyes from earlier, when he’d talked about Elijah.

  ‘Hey!’ I shouted.

  Lewis released his grip on McRae’s throat slightly. McRae turned his head away and Lewis pressed his cheek against the brick. McRae’s squashed nose went white at the tip.

  ‘What do you want?’ he said, his voice shaking.

  I was suddenly sure this was no trained RAGE operative. McRae might look tough, but underneath he was just an ordinary student – a guy with no criminal record, who’d been paid to lie to the police.

  ‘You lied about that girl’s suicide,’ I said walking over. ‘What really happened?’

  ‘Happened?’ McRae was trying to twist his face round, to look at me, but Lewis kept his cheek pressed against the wall. ‘It was like I told the cops. She put her purse down on the beach, then walked into the water.’

  ‘That’s not true.’ Lewis twisted McRae’s arm.

  McRae winced with pain.

  ‘Tell us what really happened,’ I repeated. ‘Were you even at the beach?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re—’

  Lewis twisted McRae’s arm higher.

  ‘Okay, okay . . .’ McRae paused, his breath coming out in shallow little gasps. ‘I didn’t see anyone walk into the water.’

  ‘Why did you lie?’

  McRae was silent, his body trembling.

  ‘Talk.’ Lewis pressed McRae harder against the wall.

  ‘They told me to pretend
I’d seen her . . .’ McRae was really shaking now.

  ‘Who?’ I said.

  ‘It was this young guy in a wheelchair . . . he turned up here one day . . . just told me to follow her after the Roslinnon martial arts show, make her run towards the high street where he’d be waiting. That’s all I know, I swear.’

  Anger rose up inside me. If Rachel had been followed, then she must have been scared. ‘Why did this wheelchair guy tell you to say you saw her drowning?’ I said, trying to control the rage that was boiling inside me.

  ‘I told you, I don’t know. He just said I had to tell the police I saw her walk into the sea just up the coast. He told me where to find her purse and ID card . . . said I had to pretend I found them on the beach after I’d seen her kill herself.’

  ‘What was his name?’ Lewis asked.

  ‘I don’t know, I only met him once. He didn’t give me a name or a number or anything.’

  ‘How did he pay you?’

  ‘Cash. I’ll get the rest after the inquest.’

  I frowned, trying to make sense of what McRae was saying. Who was this guy in a wheelchair? What on earth was his connection to RAGE or Elijah? And why would he go to such lengths to fake Rachel’s death?

  ‘Did you hear or see anything else?’ Lewis demanded.

  ‘No,’ McRae insisted. ‘Except . . . the only time I met him he took a phone call which was obviously connected. He said something about taking the girl to see someone called Calla . . . Yes, that was it: Calla . . .’

  Lewis and I exchanged glances. I was still mystified, but at least we had a couple of leads now – a young guy in a wheelchair and a woman called Calla. Not that we knew where to find either of them.

  Lewis took his hands off McRae, who slowly turned round.

  ‘So what did this wheelchair guy look like?’ I asked.

  McRae stared at me, his eyes widening.

  ‘Actually,’ he said, ‘he looked a lot like you . . .’