Department 19: Battle Lines (35 page)

Maybe that’s why you don’t want to go back to Blacklight. Maybe it’s got nothing to do with how they treat you or how they look at you. Maybe that’s why you asked General Allen about transferring Jamie here, because you knew he’d never do it. Maybe that’s what you’re hoping for, that you can stay here with Tim.

“SHUT UP!” she screamed, a guttural roar that seemed to rise from the pit of her stomach and erupt from her mouth. Her eyes blazed under the fluorescent lights of the gym, and she felt her fangs burst into place, cutting her lower lip. She swung her fist with every shred of power she possessed, crashing it into the side of the heavy bag with the force of a wrecking ball. The chain snapped and the bag itself rocketed across the gym, crunching a hole in the opposite wall before bursting in a great cloud of sand.

Instantly, the rage left her. She stared at the hole, embarrassment rising quickly through her as a memory surfaced from her old life, the life before she needed to drink blood to survive; her fourteen-year-old self hurling a glass against the wall of her bedroom, a disproportionate response to some long-forgotten parental slight. Her mother had said nothing, just stared at her with an expression of such deep disappointment that Larissa had burst into tears, screaming for her mum to get out of her room, to leave her alone, before hurling herself on to her bed and covering her head with a pillow, unable to meet her mother’s gaze. She felt similar shame now, although there was one major difference between what was happening now and what had happened when she was fourteen.

I haven’t done anything wrong
, she thought, fiercely.
I love Jamie and I’d never betray him, but that doesn’t mean I have to tell him everything. I’m allowed a life of my own. Friends of my own. And to hell with anyone who thinks differently.

Larissa felt the heat in her eyes ebb away and breathed out heavily. She was coated in a light film of sweat and was suddenly exhausted; her bones felt heavy, her skin thin and brittle. As she made her way towards the showers, she realised that there was something she had to do: she needed to talk to Tim. She felt no obligation to tell Jamie what had happened, but she
was
going to have to talk to her colleague, for one simple reason: she had seen in his eyes, as clear as day, that there would come a time when he would try to kiss her again. She wanted to avoid that situation for the same reason that she avoided all other dangerous situations: because you could never be absolutely sure what might happen in the heat of the moment.

Because, despite all the best intentions in the world, sometimes bad things happened.

Paul Turner tapped rapidly on the touch screen of his console. He was standing in the centre of the Level B corridor, his outer appearance betraying not the slightest hint of the turmoil inside.

Come on. Come on. Come on.

The screen glowed as the console returned the results.

CARPENTER, JAMIE (LIEUTENANT)/NS303, 67-J
–
B171

BROWNING, MATTHEW (LIEUTENANT)/NS303, 83-C
–
B173

As the door was being lifted, Turner had felt panic threaten to overwhelm him; the thought of losing Kate Randall, the girl upon whom he had come to rely far more than he hoped she knew, who represented one of the few remaining links to his late son, was unimaginable.

The sight of Natalia Lenski, injured but clearly still alive, had wiped the rising panic away and returned his icy, analytical brain to something resembling its normal mode of operation; emotion had receded, replaced by problems that needed solving, situations that required handling. The most pressing of these was the need to update Cal Holmwood on the situation, but that was not what the Security Officer had turned his attention to.

Kate Randall was missing. That was his priority.

He was already sure that the bomb had been detonated by the door to her quarters being opened, which meant that it was extremely unlikely she was dead; the door had been blown outwards, crashing into the Lenski girl who had obviously been standing in front of it at the time. Even if Kate had been standing beside her as the explosion tore through the small room, there was very little chance that she had been obliterated so completely that no visible remains had been left behind.

No, the Lazarus girl went into the quarters on her own and triggered the bomb. The bomb that was meant for Kate.

Exactly why Natalia Lenski had been entering Kate’s room was a question for another time. Right now, there was a far more pressing one that needed answering.

Where the hell is she?

Her chip wasn’t showing up on the grid, which meant that, assuming he was right about her not being dead, she had to be somewhere on Level B, where the explosion had knocked out the monitoring equipment. The level was almost entirely residential and normally home to more than seventy Operators, although in the aftermath of the attack on the Loop, it housed fewer than forty. But of those that remained, two were Kate’s best friends in all of Blacklight, the two teenage boys whose room numbers he had just asked his console for.

171 and 173. That’s right.
They live next door to each other.

Turner strode down the corridor, holding back the urge to run; it would not do for the Section C Operators to see how unsettled he really was. Identical doors passed by on both sides, until he found himself standing outside the one marked 173. He pressed his card against the black panel on the wall, and heard the locks disengage. At the last second, when it was far too late to do anything about it, he suddenly wondered whether the bomber might have also booby-trapped the quarters of Kate’s friends, and marvelled at such an unthinkably junior error. But the door merely swung open, revealing not a ball of expanding fire, but a small room that seemed to be almost full of files and folders. The bed was the only surface not covered in teetering mountains of paper, and it was empty. Turner hauled the door shut and moved on to room 171.

Jamie Carpenter’s room.

He overrode the door lock, this time taking the precaution of moving three quick steps away along the wall. The door swung open and a familiar voice shouted through the opening.

“Who’s out there? Show yourself.”

Turner suppressed a tiny smile, and stepped out in front of the open doorway. Jamie was standing in the middle of his quarters, his legs shoulder-width, his MP5 resting easily against his shoulder.

The teenage boy who came here is gone
,
he thought.
For better or worse, he’s gone.

“Lower your weapon, Lieutenant Carpenter,” he said, his voice level. Jamie did so as Turner stepped into the small room, instantly realising that Kate Randall wasn’t there.

“What’s going on, sir?” asked Jamie.

“Nothing you need to worry about, Lieutenant,” replied Turner. “I’m looking for Lieutenant Randall. Do you know where she is?”

Jamie frowned. “Kate?” he asked. “Isn’t she in ISAT?”

“If she was in ISAT, I wouldn’t be asking you if you knew where she was.”

“I don’t know where she is,” said Jamie, his eyes narrowing. “Have you run her chip?”

“Of course I have,” replied Turner. “Stay here until you are told otherwise, Lieutenant Carpenter.” He turned and headed for the door.

“Hey!” shouted Jamie.

Turner stopped and faced him. “What is it, Lieutenant?”

“Why don’t you know where Kate is?”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Turner. “Just stay here. We’ll be lifting the lockdown as soon as we can.”

“Don’t give me that,” said Jamie, fiercely. “I heard an explosion that sounded like it was on this level. So if something’s happened to Kate, you’d better tell me right now or—”

“Or what, Lieutenant Carpenter?” interrupted the Security Officer. “What exactly do you intend to do about it?”

Jamie stared at him, and Turner felt the usual mixture of admiration and irritation that filled him whenever he looked at Julian Carpenter’s son. Then the teenager’s face softened.

“Is Kate OK, sir?” he asked. “Just tell me. Did something happen to her?”

Jamie’s face was suddenly so full of obviously genuine concern that Turner felt his heart go out to him.

“I don’t know, Jamie,” he replied. “Someone put a bomb in her quarters, but I don’t think she was there when it went off. Her chip isn’t showing up, but the blast knocked out the monitoring systems on this level, so that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. I’m working on the assumption that she’s somewhere else.”

Jamie’s eyes had widened as Turner spoke. “A bomb?” he asked. “In Kate’s room?”

Turner nodded.

“Was anyone hurt?” asked Jamie.

“A girl from the Lazarus Project.”

“What was she doing in Kate’s room?”

“I don’t know, Jamie. She could have been planting the bomb for all I know. It detonated about nine minutes ago, so I don’t have the answer to every single question just yet.”

“So Kate has to be on this level?”

“That’s the most likely explanation.”

“Have you checked next door? In Matt’s room?”

“Yes. She’s not there.”

Jamie stared for a long moment, seemingly at nothing; for some reason, it was a moment that Paul Turner felt compelled to let him finish, even though he knew he should be on his way up to Cal Holmwood’s quarters by now.

Then Jamie broke into a small, sad smile. “I know where she is,” he said.

“Where?” asked Turner. “Tell me.”

The young Operator shook his head. “I’ll show you.”

The two men walked along Level B in silence, until Jamie stopped outside one of the hundred or more identical doors that lined the corridor. Turner read the number printed on the flat surface.

059

It felt familiar; he frowned as he stared at it. He had seen it before, that combination of three numbers, but couldn’t remember where, or why the feeling that they were important was rising through him. Then understanding hit him like a punch to the stomach.

This was Shaun’s room. 059. This was my son’s room.

Without a word, Turner reached out and ran his card across the black plastic panel. His stomach churned, he could feel blood pounding through the veins in his head, but he forced his hand not to tremble. The locks released and the door slid open. Jamie didn’t give any indication of movement, so he stepped forward and pushed the door wide, his heart full of a swirling mixture of longing and dread. It swung back against the wall of the small room, and Paul Turner found himself looking at Kate Randall, who was sitting on the edge of the bed that had once been Shaun’s.

It had been stripped down to the mattress, and the rest of the room was similarly bare; the bedside table and desk were clear, the wardrobe was empty, the walls had been given a fresh coat of whitewash. Once the Security Division had completed the mandatory examination that followed the death of any Operator, Shaun’s possessions had been handed to him in a single cardboard box. He had taken them home to his wife, placed them on the kitchen table, and let her see them; he had been unable to speak, to soften the blow for her in any way.

“Paul?” said Kate. “Jamie? What are you doing here? What’s going on? I heard something that sounded like an explosion.”

For a second or two, Turner just stared at her. Then he strode forward, pulled her to her feet, and enveloped her in a crushing bear hug. Kate laughed involuntarily, although her face wore an expression of confusion. “Hey,” she said. “It’s OK. What’s wrong?”

“There was a bomb, Kate,” said Jamie, softly. He was still standing in the doorway, watching the embrace taking place before him with a mixture of happiness and unease. “Someone planted a bomb in your room.”

“What?” asked Kate, her eyes flying wide. “Let go of me, Paul, for God’s sake. What happened?”

Turner released her, with obvious reluctance, and stepped back. “Jamie’s telling the truth,” he said. “An explosive device was placed in your quarters. It detonated when the door was opened.”

“Was anyone hurt?” asked Kate.

“A girl from the Lazarus Project,” said Turner. “Her name is—”

“Natalia Lenski,” said Kate, distantly. “Oh Jesus. Is she OK?”

“She’s going to be fine,” said Turner, and smiled as relief flooded Kate’s face. “She was still outside when it blew. The door shielded her from most of the blast.”

“What was she doing going into your room?” asked Jamie. “I didn’t think you knew anyone in Lazarus apart from Matt.”

“I don’t,” said Kate, sitting back down. “I’d never spoken to her until this morning.”

“Lieutenant Carpenter,” said Turner. “I’m going to ask you to step out into the corridor. This is an active Security Division investigation. I’m sorry.”

Jamie stared. “You’re kidding?”

“No, Lieutenant,” said Turner, holding out his ID card. “I’m not. Please step outside.”

Jamie fixed his gaze on the Security Officer for a long moment, then got up and took the plastic rectangle from Turner’s fingers. He used it on the black panel on the wall and stepped out into the corridor, casting an unreadable glance at Kate as the door swung shut.

“What happened?” asked Turner, as soon as the locks thudded into place.

Kate took a deep breath, and began to talk.

Kate took a deep breath and pulled open the ISAT security door.

Standing outside, perched on one of the Intelligence Division desks, was a tiny blonde girl wearing a white lab coat. Her pale face was tight and her eyes were wide and full of nervousness.

“Hello,” she said, walking over and extending a hand. “I’m Kate Randall. I was told you wanted to see me?”

The blonde girl nodded. “My name is Natalia Lenski,” she said. “I work downstairs, in the… well, you know…”

“I know where you mean,” said Kate, smiling. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” replied Natalia. “I have heard many things about you.”

“That’s nice,” said Kate. “I think. So what can I do for you, Natalia?”