Neptune's Tears (15 page)

‘And now,’ he announced, ‘my little theatre. In the scenes you’re about to see, danger is lurking. One of the characters is up to no good and means the others harm. Watch
carefully and try to spot the culprit before he – or she – acts. When you do, press this button.’

Zee wasn’t sure what she expected, but what she saw when Major Dawson activated the box made her gasp. Instantly, an entire section of Oxford Street appeared in miniature 3D, with traffic
and buses and people going about their business. It was so real-looking – much more substantial than most holograms – that it was difficult to believe the miniature people weren’t
actually real. Reminding herself of her assignment, she began scanning the crowd. Within a few seconds, a shock bomb went off and people began to run. Horrifyingly, a few dozen piled up at the end
of the box and suffocated.

‘Don’t worry,’ Major Dawson said. He tapped his handheld and the box cleared, bodies, red buses and all. ‘The only person who ever got this the first time was a
psychopath, unsuitable for all sorts of reasons. Let’s try again.’

This time Zee focused on the action, freezing the drama when she thought she’d identified the culprit. But she’d picked incorrectly, and when Major Dawson resumed the action, the
mother with a pram turned out to be a suicide bomber.

‘You’re trying to use logic and deduction,’ he told Zee. ‘Forget that. Just go with your vibe.’

She tried and got one of the next three right, which the Major told her was quite good. But when he asked her what had led to her ‘vibe’, as he called it, she couldn’t say.
Then they broke for lunch – tuna salad or Branston pickle and cheese, a food item Zee was certain she’d never get used to – then reviewed the results of the tests. ‘Well,
Miss McAdams,’ Major Dawson began, ‘you’ve demonstrated a singular inability to predict the future in a wide range of circumstances.’

‘Oh.’ Zee felt surprisingly let down. In spite of her reluctance about becoming a diviner, she’d wanted to do well. She began to gather her things.

‘
But
,’ he continued, ‘on the most crucial tests you exhibited unusually high potential. Would you like to hear more?’ Zee relaxed back into her chair and the Major
smiled. ‘The tests you did the worst on were the gambling tests – the lottery and card prediction. The rapidity with which you completed these compared to other tests indicates an
element of moral judgement.’

‘Isn’t that a good thing?’

‘Perhaps in some cases,’ the Major said thoughtfully, ‘but here we work as one organism, without room for individual judgement. In most cases you won’t be told what
you’re looking for. A target could be anything from a hostage to a loose nuke. This ensures that your perceptions will be as pure and spontaneous as possible, uncontaminated by expectations.
So our requests will not always make sense, and may even seem dubious, but we count on you to take them seriously.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Zee.

The last test they reviewed was the one Major Dawson called
viewing,
where Zee had been asked to describe a picture that was concealed from her.

‘Wrong every time,’ the Major announced cheerfully, ‘but there’s a method to our madness. Let’s try it again. There’s a picture in this envelope. We asked you
what you saw. Do you remember what you said?’

‘A ladder.’

‘Ah. Now clear your mind. No more ladder. Tell me, what kind of lines do you see?’

‘Straight,’ Zee said without hesitation. ‘Long. Vertical. But not quite parallel. Closer together at the top than the bottom.’

‘Colours?’

‘Mmm. Grey. Like metal or stone. But there’s white between the grey lines. Something . . . a cloud?’

‘Don’t think specific objects, just their properties.’

Zee nodded and tried again. ‘Something light. Not just a light colour.
Light
– airy.’

The Major slid the envelope across to her. ‘Have a look.’

Zee pulled out the picture. ‘Wow.’ Every element she’d named was there. Only her conclusion that it was a ladder was wrong. The two long grey lines, closer together at the top
than the bottom turned out to be the rocky sides of a waterfall. The lightness she’d misread as space between the steps was a misty fall of white water.

‘You just went from an F on this to an A-grade candidate. Interested?’

Zee hadn’t felt such a rush of excitement since her early training as an empath. ‘When can I start training?’

‘You more or less just did. We train by putting you on actual assignments, working with a large team. Since it’s more or less volunteer, the schedule is flexible. I do have one
warning, though.’

‘What?’

‘If you’re in this for the perks, the tuna salad and Branston pickle are as good as it gets. Other than that, you have the chance to do a great deal of good here. See those data
storage units? The first is correspondence from parents of missing children we’ve managed to locate. The next is anarchist attacks averted. The rest is miscellaneous – hostages freed,
stolen art masterpieces located, missing top secret documents, stolen weapons.’ He reached across his desk and clasped her hand. ‘Welcome.’

By the time she got to Rani’s room at the residence hall, laden with takeaway bags of artichoke pasta and garlic bread, Zee was mentally exhausted. There was nothing she
wanted more than to sit on Rani’s sofa and watch her friend set out bowls, silverware, soft drinks and grated cheese, listening to Rani’s running commentary about a patient she’d
had that day who not only wanted Rani to work with her but with her pet ferret in ‘group sessions’. The patient had diabetes and insisted that the ferret, though perfectly healthy, had
a tendency to ‘be an enabler’ where sweets were concerned.

‘How is that possible?’ Zee asked, laughing. ‘It’s not like the ferret is popping out to the shops for Maltesers.’

‘That’s where you’d be wrong,’ Rani said, bringing the bowls to the sofa and handing Zee one. ‘According to my patient, the ferret has a subscription to Chocolate
of the Month Club.’

They tucked their feet up and slurped the pasta. They used to have evenings like this all the time when they were students, and had taken them for granted. Now Zee looked back on those times as
special and saw that they would become more and more rare, as each of them were claimed by other people and other demands.

As if reading her thoughts, Rani set her empty bowl aside and said, ‘So. I agreed to meet that boy my Auntie Meera has been talking about. The one who is coming to England this autumn, to
start at the London School of Economics.’

‘What’s this? Are you becoming the good Hindu girl you swore you’d never be?’ Zee couldn’t imagine anything less Rani-like than an arranged meeting.

Rani shrugged. ‘I suppose it’s inevitable.’ She dipped her head but could not hide her half smile. ‘Besides, he sent me his picture and a long letter. Both were very
charming.’

‘Especially the picture?’ Zee guessed.

‘Something like that.’ Rani giggled. ‘He has navy-blue eyes. It’s true! I think he must have an English grandparent or something.’

Zee drew a deep breath. Now was as good a time as any. ‘Speaking of boys, I have a favour to ask you. But it’s, um, a little bit dodgy, so promise you’ll say no if you
don’t want to do it.’

Rani raised her eyebrows. ‘Zee McAdams breaking the rules? I like it already.’

‘I need to see David. Even if he’s right that it’s too dangerous for us to keep seeing each other. I need to know he really means it. And I don’t even know where he lives
in London. He never gave me his address.’

‘And that’s where I come in?’

Zee nodded. ‘Do you hate the whole idea?’

‘Why would I?’

‘Because he’s an alien. Because just the other day you said, “I can’t imagine getting that upset over a boy”.’

Rani looked wounded. ‘That’s right, Zee, I said
I
–
I
can’t imagine. But that doesn’t mean it’s wrong for you. Maybe I think it’s kind of
cool that you can throw yourself into it like that. Maybe I’d like to feel that way about someone sometime.’

Zee had spoken too harshly and was sorry. Before she could say anything, Rani went on graciously, ‘Now, tell me what the plan is.’

‘Are you still working A&E shifts? That first night he was brought in, I’m sure they must have looked at his papers and done a standard admittance. But that patient privacy
firewall is impenetrable. You can’t get into it without a doctor’s PIN.’

Rani grinned. ‘No problem. There’s a new intern there who claims he’d do anything for a date with me. Let’s let him prove it.’

‘You don’t mind? Dating this guy just to get me that address?’

‘Oh, I was going to go out with him anyway,’ Rani said. ‘This will just make it all the more special for him.’

‘Wouldn’t it be more special if he knew you were going out with him because you like him?’

Rani gave an exasperated sigh. ‘You really
don’t
know anything about men, do you, Zee?’

Rani had the address within forty-eight hours, and Zee spent every free minute of the next few days watching an unobtrusive building on a moderately busy north London street.
Fortunately, there was a bus stop across the way, so she could hide herself in the waiting queue. It wasn’t until early evening of the third day that she saw Mia sweeping down the street, her
rapid walk and waterfall of glossy hair unmistakable. Zee hurried to catch her before she disappeared inside the building.

‘Mia? Please, I need to talk to you.’

Mia turned. Several steps ahead of Zee, she looked down from a commanding height. Not unlike a falcon, Zee thought, or a hawk. Wearing black leather head to toe.

‘It’s Zee, do you remember me?’

‘Of course I do. It’s not everyone who bleeds all over my best Jinx and Jeremiah suede boots.’

‘Sorry. Can I talk to you for a second?’ Even when Mia came down the steps to her level, she still towered over Zee. ‘I need to see David.’

‘He apparently didn’t think so.’

‘I know. But I have to see him. One more time. Please, wherever he is, tell me. No matter where.’

‘They were putting together another research team, and he volunteered for it.’

‘Where?’

‘He asked me not to tell you.’

‘Only because he thinks it’s dangerous for me. You know that’s the only reason.’

As swiftly as if she were reaching for a gun, Mia reached into the pocket of her leather jacket, drew out a pen and notepad, and scribbled something on it. ‘I’m only doing this
because I know he’s miserable without you. But David’s like a brother to me. If you put him in danger or harm him in any way – and I’m including a broken heart in that
– I will find you and hurt you back. Just so you know.’

‘I would never hurt David,’ Zee answered. ‘I love him.’ She took the scrap of paper Mia handed her. ‘Prambanan? Where’s that?’

‘On Java, Indonesia. Bit of a religious war going on there. Hindus and Muslims. Should be fun. And you’re still going, aren’t you?’

Zee nodded.

‘You two and your love,’ Mia said, turning to head back up the stairs. ‘You’ll get us all killed.’

Zee tuned out the flight attendant’s advice on steps to take in the event of an ‘unplanned structural breach’ during the sub-orbital part of the flight. There
wasn’t much you
could
do in a .01 atmosphere, so what was the point? Besides, the trip had come together so much faster than Zee expected, she had plenty of other things to think
about. Like what, exactly, would she say to David when she saw him? What if he really
didn’t
want to see her ever again? What if he finished his research before she got there and
returned to Omura, as Mia said he might?

These possibilities made a mere breach in the body of the aircraft seem almost trivial. To calm herself, Zee touched the gold chain on her neck, with its decoration of three perfect diamonds.
Or, more accurately, perfect faux diamonds.

Zee had gone first to her adviser when planning her trip. Since the burnout rate for empaths was high, Zee and her colleagues were encouraged to take breaks when needed, at short notice, and
even given a small annual travel stipend. Zee had seldom used hers, and her adviser was delighted that she was at last going to. Major Dawson also pushed aside Zee’s concerns about
interrupting her training period.

‘Prambanan!’ he said, eyes lighting up. ‘Damned fine choice! Mystical place, close to the spirit of things.’

Until that moment, Zee had assumed that Prambanan was a city, or perhaps a suburb of Yogyakarta, where Jasmine lived. Major Dawson told her Prambanan was a fourteen-hundred-year-old Hindu
temple, more or less in the middle of a jungle. Zee had spent the next several hours wondering how on Earth she’d get there until an email from Jasmine assured her it was only ten miles from
Yogyakarta, with buses every hour.

Zee had dreaded telling Mrs Hart most of all. She couldn’t imagine leaving the older woman for two weeks, even with her daughters and a barrage of home attendants looking after her.

‘I won’t go if you don’t want me to,’ she’d volunteered.