Going Grey (63 page)

CHALTON FARM, WESTERHAM
FRIDAY.

At 0430, the house had its own unique soundscape.

Ian concentrated, memorizing what was normal ambient sound for the early hours, and tried to stay alert. The faint chattering from the central heating was like a chorus of distant voices, while the security room had its own soundtrack, ranging from a high-pitched tone more like a change in air pressure than a noise to the quiet hum from the power supplies. Oatie added the tapping of nails on tiles. The dog tiptoed into the small room and put his head on Ian's lap, looking reproachful.

"You want to go out?" Ian whispered. "I can't take you. Wait."

Lack of sleep was wearing him down. It was getting harder to focus or even keep his eyes fully open. But Mike and Rob were twice his age, and they were watching security displays or patrolling the grounds around the clock. He had no excuse.

Ian caught a sudden glimpse of Rob as he passed one of the cameras along the driveway. It was no way to spend the holiday. Ian felt terrible.

This wasn't Rob's problem, or Mike's. If anything happened to Rob when he returned to security work, all that Tom would remember was that his last visit with his dad had been ruined by some asshole called Ian and his dumb problems.

Ian thought again about
Scott of the Antarctic
. A man really had taken the hard way out to spare his buddies. But there was a solution for all this that didn't involve anybody dying. There was no need to let this drag on. If Ian didn't morph, nobody would ever be able to prove that he could do it, no matter how many tests and scans they gave him.

All they'd find were the genes. That didn't mean a damn thing, any more than sharing genes with humans let a chimp morph into a man or vice versa. The big problem was working out the safest way to turn himself in. He could walk into a police station and tell them he'd been the victim of an experiment without his consent, and not even mention morphing, and that a concerned senator's family had brought the crime to light. Kinnery would be looking at jail; KWA would take some serious damage. He'd have to persuade the police to run DNA tests, though, and that might take some doing. Whichever way he worded it, explaining that he had animal genes in him sounded kind of crazy.

But the hiding – the real hiding, the truly scared kind – would be over. It would just be the media wanting to take a look. He'd have to go away for a while to give Mike and Livvie some peace, but he could come back when the world had grown bored with a shape-shifter who couldn't morph. It was worth facing temporary harassment to spare his friends a life under siege.

So, call the cops? The media? I could ring Zoe Murray again.

Ian tried to ignore the buzzing in his head, then felt himself fall. But he was still in the chair. Oatie was gone. Shit, he must have nodded off for a few seconds and started dreaming. He dug his nails into his palm a few times to wake himself up and inspected the burn, which was now healing into a tight, itchy red patch. It was another painful thing he'd had to do as a means to a better end.

Okay. Focus. The GPS says Dru's at the hotel. She might come back at any time.

But the security room was too warm and cosy. Ian rubbed his eyes and started to feel the world receding around him like the tide going out.

Come on, come on ...

His eyes wouldn't obey. He was seeing double. Then he couldn't see anything at all.

Bang.
He was fully alert again.

"Did I startle you? Sorry, mate." Tom was sitting next to him in a sweatshirt and tracksuit pants, drinking coffee. "You haven't missed anything. I've kept an eye on it. I didn't want to wake you."

"Thanks." Falling asleep on watch was unforgivable. "How long was I out?"

"About twenty minutes."

"You didn't have to do that for me."

Tom tapped his wrist, indicating an absent watch. "No problem. I'm still five hours ahead of you. It's coffee time back home."

"Rob's out patrolling. I'm sorry this is spoiling your visit."

"Not at all. I'm riveted." Tom hadn't asked a single awkward question since he'd arrived. He seemed to take it on trust that not knowing the details was for the best. "I'm good at forgetting to be curious if I need to. But if you want me to do anything, just ask. I must admit it was satisfying to eyeball her yesterday."

"Is Rob still mad at you?"

"Come on, Dad's never angry, not for real. I was wearing a vest like he told me to, wasn't I? I mean, that's an adventure in itself." Tom's eyes flicked from monitor to monitor, back and forth along each row. "Trust me, this beats sightseeing. Anyway, I understand dad's job a bit better, even if I haven't got a clue what's going on."

Ian felt he owed Tom at least a partial explanation. "It's not about what I've done. It's about who I am."

"Whatever it is, if it's okay by Dad, it's okay by me."

"Sure. I just want you to know that if it wasn't for Mike and Rob, something pretty nasty would have happened to me."

Tom turned and winked, just like Rob did. "I knew it would be something like that."

It was hard to tell if Tom thought Ian had been saved from a cult, a gang, an abusive family, retribution of some kind, or even from himself. Ian was used to living with obvious questions that never got discussed. Tom seemed to be the same.

Apart from a few deer and some extra traffic – a couple of trucks, a bike or two, and a few cars – there was nothing special going on outside. Mike came downstairs just after 0630 and stood behind Tom to watch the screens.

"As exciting as a test match, isn't it?" Mike said.

Tom seemed to find that funny. "No sign of the usual suspects."

"Her car's still at the hotel."

"What about the Chrysler?" Ian asked.

"I should have tagged it on Wednesday when I had the chance." He clapped Ian on the shoulder. "Okay, buddy, you're relieved. Go have breakfast."

Ian needed to take a nap first. When he woke, he shaved again, concentrating on the contours of his skin. Individual faces looked so different, yet the variations between them were tiny in the scale of the human body. It seemed a lot of fuss and misery about nothing. A face wasn't the only way to identify someone, and it didn't tell you who was inside the skin, either. But faces ruled people's lives and determined their fate. Ian decided that evolution should have come up with a special kind of freckle or pigment that only appeared in nice people. There would have been some point to that, something concrete to judge strangers by.

But I like looking this way. I'm just as superficial.

When he went downstairs, Rob was standing in the hall, talking on his cell. Ian caught a few snatches of the conversation. Rob wasn't Rob the Marine or Rob the Dad this time. He sounded almost submissive. He was probably talking to that physiotherapist he was trying to date.

"No, I'm not making excuses," Rob said, apologetic. "You knew my boy was coming over ... I wish I could ... yeah, but I don't know when I'm going to finish this job ... yes, I
am
working through the holiday ... fine, okay. You do that."

Rob rung off without saying goodbye and stood with his head lowered for a moment. Then he noticed Ian standing on the stairs and snapped back to being relentlessly cheerful. It was a sobering moment for Ian.

"Women." Rob did a comic shrug. "Ungrateful cow. I'll stick it in someone more appreciative, then."

"Sorry," Ian said. "I couldn't walk past you."

"It's okay." Rob checked the phone as if the call had interrupted something more important. "Just another bird I've failed to impress with my work ethic."

And I'm the job that's got to be finished before you can get on with your life. Sorry, Rob. But this isn't going to go on forever, I promise.

Rob had told him never to let the enemy dictate the time and place for a battle. Ian decided to pick his moment. It wasn't a matter of a few days' lockdown, or even five months' under Mike's protection. It was eighteen years of exile from the world. Ian had had enough. All the time and expense that Mike and Rob had invested in him had led up to this moment. They'd given him all the skills he needed to get the job done, and he owed it to them to do it.

Livvie and Tom were having coffee in the kitchen, but there was no sign of Mike. Rob made a beeline for Tom.

"I know we're all fed up being confined to barracks, but I don't want you going off site on your own again. Not even with a vest." He looked around at Ian. "Where's your GPS watch?"

Ian pushed back his sleeve. "Here."

"Good. As long as I know where everyone is."

"Can I go to the workshop?"

"Only via the rear. Don't wander around. Oatie can go walkies on his own."

Ian took a handful of cookies and went into the workshop. The plan formed itself in a matter of minutes. There was a quick way to end this; he'd confront Dru. He'd walk right up to her and defy her to do something. Then she could either talk sensibly to him, or he'd call the cops and she could explain to them why she thought he was a shape-shifter. He didn't have to prove or disprove a damn thing. He just had to tip this out of stalemate and keep Mike and Rob out of it.

It all made perfect sense now. He should have done it ages ago. He could have marched into KWA's offices with a film crew and blown the whole thing, just like Gran said.

He couldn't assume Dru wouldn't be armed, but he couldn't take a firearm. If he carried one, then he intended to use it, and if he used it, things would get complicated. He'd have to rely on a sharp tool and his hunting knife for self-defence. He picked up a short crowbar and climbed up to the workshop roof to lie prone at the observation point. When Dru showed up, he'd pay her a visit.

I can do this. The hardest thing I ever did was spend eighteen years thinking I was crazy.

Somehow that had sloughed off him in days. Once he accepted his changes were real, he hadn't needed to get used to being sane. He'd had to get used to being lied to.

Eventually he heard the springy creak of the ladder. Mike climbed over the edge of the flat roof and settled down next to him to check out something with a monocular. He didn't say anything for a few minutes.

"Tom's having fun," Mike said at last. "You two seem to be getting on fine."

Ian felt like a traitor for having a plan he wasn't going to share with Mike. But it was better this way. "He's a nice guy."

"You don't have a problem with making friends your own age."

"But it's Tom."

"Sure, but that's no guarantee you'd get on." Mike gave him a thumbs up. "Milestone achieved."

It would have been a really great moment if Ian hadn't been set on his confrontation plan. He felt like an undeserving fraud. But Mike and Rob were planning something too. There was an intense focus about them, not excitement or agitation but a kind of controlled impatience.

"So what are you going to do next?" Ian asked. "Dru's not taking the bait."

"We'll keep looking for the Chrysler and any other vehicles that show up too often. They're just parking at the hotel for a few hours at a time. Maybe they use the restaurant, and that's how they don't draw attention."

"They?"

"It can't be a one-man job. There's got to be at least two. One to cover, one to grab. And maybe more vehicles." Mike pressed himself up from the prone position and knelt back on his heels. "Let's go indoors. I'm freezing."

Ian tried to keep the conversation going while Mike was climbing down the ladder. "You're not going to do anything dumb, are you?"

It took Mike the entire walk from the workshop to the back doors of the kitchen to reply. He ushered Ian indoors. "We never do anything dumb. We just take calculated risks."

"Can't you tell me?"

"Okay, we're going to surprise Dru on one of her visits, then pull her in. That's all you need to know."

It sounded crazy to Ian. Mike and Rob would end up being the ones in trouble. "Isn't that kidnapping?"

"Not by the time we've called the cops. It'll be fearing a robbery or home invasion. 'Well, look, officer, they keep showing up on the security cameras day after day, and she's already tried to con my neighbour for information.'"

"But she'll say she was nowhere near the house."

"We can lie. As long as the police question her, calls get made, and Weaver has to give reasons, I can unleash the lawyers. Weaver can never admit what their accusations really are."

Ian didn't think that would stop KWA for more than a few months. Maybe it was time to tell Mike what he was planning and appeal to his common sense.

"If I'm really worth that much money to them, they'll dump Dru and just try another route at a later date," Ian said.

Mike opened the fridge and rummaged in the shelves, taking his time. Ian wasn't fooled by the apparently casual reaction.

"Weaver would be crazy to do that after a brush with the police," Mike said. "But we'll deal with that if and when it happens."

"Look, if we haven't broken any laws, why don't I come clean? Then it's Kinnery's problem to explain. And Weaver's."

"Your life would be hell, and you know it."