The Chosen Seed (16 page)

‘I also want to drag this Mr Bright out into the open,’ Cass said. ‘People know about him, but only at the highest level, and no one will touch him. We want to knock him off his guard – make people lose their faith in him.’

‘In other words,’ Brian Freeman’s face cracked into a smile that added rather than subtracted years from his craggy face, ‘we want to fuck him over a bit. This is the second part of what we want from you. In order to draw attention to
him, we need to do something public, and that’s going to have to involve The Bank. I’ve already got people working there.’

‘What kind of thing were you thinking?’

‘Stock dumping, shares fixing – things I can make a few quid at while we’re doing it, obviously. I’m not like Cass here – I have absolutely no objection to getting richer out of this. To be honest, this fella has fucked with my life too; whatever I get back I feel I’ve earned.’

‘I’ve already said I’m not touching ordinary people’s money—’

‘You won’t be. We’ll hit the big corporations, make some dodgy investments – arms and terrorist organisations, that sort of thing.’

‘There was a list of companies in that sub-folder,’ Cass cut in, ‘we’ll start with those. They must be Network businesses, so that will turn his own against him too.’

‘There will be ordinary people among the shareholders, though,’ Maric said thoughtfully. ‘I’m an information thief; this isn’t my normal thing. Hurting governments is one thing – people are different.’

‘The way I see it’ – Cass took a cigarette from the hacker’s packet – ‘is that this group, the Network, they won’t want the economy becoming any more damaged or unstable than it already is, because that would damage their power base. Whatever damage we do, they’ll rectify with money from the X accounts.’

‘We just want to make some waves around this Mr Bright,’ Freeman said. ‘And I’d like to make some money.’

‘And it will also work as a distraction while I’m looking for Luke. Mr Bright likes to have things under control; he’ll be going crazy while you’re fucking with him from the inside.’

There was a long moment of silence, and then Maric nodded slowly. ‘This might be even better than the defence system breach. I’ve never had a buzz like that since, and that was a long time ago.’

‘Do you think you can do it?’ Cass asked.

‘The Bank tried to hire me, you know. They offered me a lot of money. I turned it down, of course – twice. And then I had to change my identity and go into hiding for a year or more because they pointed several unfriendly government agencies in my direction. They told me that if I took the job, then my history would be cleared and I’d be taken off the wanted list –
every
wanted list.’ His voice was soft and thoughtful. ‘That’s power, huh? I didn’t entirely believe it at the time, but I think maybe I do now. The point is, they wanted me in, not out, and I take that as a clue that if anyone can get into their systems, then it’s me.’ He looked at Freeman. ‘You have someone placed in-house?’

The old man nodded.

‘And they can bring their laptop home without suspicion? And remote access?’

‘Yes. She’s working nights there on an international project. She’s been bringing her laptop home every day.’

‘Good. That will give me a chance to look around The Bank’s systems, get a feel for it. When we do it, it’ll help to know as much as I can about this man you’re so interested in. Systems tend to reflect their owners, so knowing him will help me decide the best way to break his security.’

‘Not a problem,’ Cass said. ‘I can talk you through what I know.’

The hacker smiled. ‘Okay gentlemen, consider me hired.’

‘Then I’ll arrange for someone to collect you tomorrow at twelve,’ Freeman said.

‘Tomorrow it is.’

The three men grinned, and then Freeman slapped his rough hand down on Cass’ thigh.

‘Time for us to get back. I’ve got a surprise arriving for you.’

‘What kind of surprise?’ Cass felt a vague unease. He hadn’t quite accepted that he and the old gangster were on the same team now; it was that same unease that made sure he’d locked his bedroom door, just in case Brian decided it was time to pay him back for that long-ago betrayal.

‘Trust me, son,’ the old man said with a wink, ‘you’ll like it. It’s something I thought might help us with our little venture.’

‘Let’s go then.’ Cass got to his feet. He was on this ride with Brian Freeman now, so there was no point trying to second-guess when the ride might fall apart.

‘See you tomorrow, then,’ Maric said with a smile.

‘See you tomorrow,’ Cass said as he opened the door. He hoped he would.

Chapter Eighteen

H
er bones felt brittle, as if they would snap with even the slightest move, but she smiled as she squeezed the old man’s hand. His skin was so dry that sore cracks had appeared across his palms. He wanted to be home. She wanted to be home. They didn’t belong here.

‘Have you heard more?’ he asked. His voice was barely more than a whisper. ‘Do we have to go and find him?’

She shook her head. Her hair had dulled to somewhere nearly brown, and a strand fell across her eyes. She tucked it behind one ear. ‘No, not yet. We wait for now.’

‘Does he talk to you often now that he’s awake? Can you hear him clearly?’

‘Yes,’ she said, softly. ‘Every day he sounds stronger. He’s so grateful that we heard him from so far away, that we made this long journey. When we are home we will be very well rewarded.’

‘To be home will be a good enough prize for me.’

‘True. For me too.’

His eyes were watering and she wiped his cheeks. ‘But what stories we will have to tell – we have
seen
it in a way no others ever will.’

‘He does think we will get home then?’ The old man’s tone was uncertain. She had never heard that in him before, not in all their years together. It was hard, this place –
magical, but hard. She looked out of the window at the grey sky and the lights coming from the tall building around them in this heart of the city. In many ways it was glorious, breathtaking and brilliant, and there was so much more of it to see – so many wonders. She let out a small, sad sigh. No wonder
he
wanted to destroy it.

‘Yes. He knows why we can’t find the Walkways. We need to find someone.’

‘Who?’ He pushed himself up from the pillows slightly.

‘Jarrod Pretorius.’

There was a long pause. There had been a long pause in her own head after the First had spoken the name to her in the space between bodies and places. It was a name she hadn’t thought about in a long time. Her heart had ached in a way she’d almost forgotten.

‘Why him?’

‘He’s why we can’t get home.’ She was glad to hear her own voice was still light and musical.

‘Where is he?’ The old man looked thoughtful.

‘He doesn’t know. He just says that we need to find him.’

‘He doesn’t
know
?’

‘He’s been sleeping a long time.’

‘Not that long – he called out to us when he started sleeping, that’s what he said.’

She watched the old man carefully. She had never heard such suspicion in his voice.

‘Maybe he hadn’t kept track of Pretorius.’ Her voice softened slightly. ‘He was never really like them.’

‘He was never really like any of us.’

‘True.’

They sat quietly together. In the silence he was as lost in the memories as she was.

‘It was all a long time ago, wasn’t it?’ he asked after a while.

‘Yes, it was.’

‘They’ve done all this in that time. That’s quite something.’

The silence lingered as the day darkened outside.

‘One thing bothers me,’ the old man said eventually, his voice stronger than it had been.

‘Go on.’ She had a vague idea what was coming. The thought had occurred to her, and if she knew anyone at all after this very long existence, it was this old man – this old spirit.

‘The First must have known it would be you and me who came if he managed to call for us. Who else would be sent?’

‘That’s true.’

‘We were close,’ he said. ‘He put me in his legends here. It made me smile to see.’ He smiled at her. ‘He put you in too.’

‘He was still fond of us – even then, after everything – just as we are all still fond of him. He was the First. He
is
the First.’

‘So why didn’t he tell us before we came? Why didn’t he say he didn’t know how to get home?’

‘He used a lot of energy calling. It weakened him dangerously.’ She wasn’t answering the question, even if what she said was truthful. ‘He was desperate, perhaps.’

‘We would still have come.’ The old man smiled. ‘
He
would always have sent us, and we would have come willingly, you and I.’ A frown wrinkled between his eyes. ‘So why didn’t he tell us we might not be able to get back?’

The silence settled between them again, a more honest silence, perhaps, as they mulled over the nature of their place in the hierarchy. In the end, she sighed and smiled
before shrugging a slim shoulder. ‘Like father, like son, my old friend. Like father, like son.’

Mr Craven was exhausted. What he’d done was stupid, but he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t help
becoming
, not in that instant of rage, though it had cost him dearly. He could feel it in every inch of his thin body, in the racking pain in his watery lungs. He had stolen from his own
time
– how much? Days, months? Time had never mattered before. From where he was sitting against the wall he could see the bloody mess on the bed. Time didn’t matter for that boy any more. He let out a small, wet laugh. There was one person he had outlived.

He dragged himself to his feet and went through to the second room, ignoring the tangled sheets and the various plates that littered the floor. Housekeeping could take care of them when he was gone – although he doubted the untidiness would be the first thing that grabbed their attention. Hotel staff saw plenty of strange comings and goings in their most expensive suites over the years – that was the whole point of paying all that money, after all – but he defied any of them to have experienced anything like the gift he was leaving behind.

He glanced over his shoulder at the remains of the boy. He might well have overstepped the mark somewhat there. The understatement almost made him giggle again, and, not for the first time, he wondered idly if he was losing his mind. That probably didn’t matter either, he concluded, not with the way time was slipping away from him.

He sat down in the desk chair and pulled the thick hotel robe tighter around his body. The heating was on full, but the chill in his bones was unshakeable. He ignored it, and put the tiny earphones in before replaying the recording. It
didn’t surprise him that Mr Dublin hadn’t thought to sweep for bugs after his visit; Mr Dublin would have considered such a thing too
low
, without the honour their kind had always had. That’s why Mr Dublin would never be as good a leader as Mr Bright. Mr Bright had always known that they were capable of
low
. He’d always recognised the similarities between their kind and
them
– that’s why they’d all left together, the rejects and the rebels, united.

When he’d heard the relevant parts, he switched the device off again, returning the room to silence. He stared out of the window at the dark sky. What was it? Four, five o’clock? Night already, and another day gone. He pushed the fear far down into his belly, though it didn’t feel far enough.

So, Mr Dublin was looking for Cassius Jones to try in the Experiment. He expected to feel more of a flurry of excitement about that, but each time he’d listened to the recording, all he could think was that even if they were successful, it would be too late for him. Would Mr Dublin even care? Even if they got home there would be scapegoats required, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he would probably be among them. Would he even be able to get home? Perhaps the sick –
the dying
– wouldn’t make it?

So many questions, and none of them had comforting answers. The only thing that he did know – that he was becoming increasingly unable to
avoid
knowing as the days passed – was that in all likelihood he would die in this godforsaken –
literally
– place, a shadow of his former self. And he would die sooner rather than later. The bitterness threatened to overwhelm him and he chewed hard on his thin bottom lip. His mouth tasted of metal. His gums were bleeding again.

Cassius Jones. The bloodline. He thought of the dribbling First. Would he rather that fate for himself than death? It surprised him to find the answer was yes: anything was better than death. That’s what the smug and untouched like Mr Dublin and Mr Bright would never understand, not until it came for them.

Cassius Jones, however, was a wild card – and more than that, he was a
missing
wild card, and Mr Dublin was right, he would no doubt want to come after the Network. Cassius Jones had a score to settle with Mr Bright, and at some point, when he was recovered and ready, he would come out into the open. Mr Dublin would be waiting for him, as would Mr Bright, no doubt.

So perhaps it was time to bring ex-Detective Inspector Cassius Jones up to speed – finish what Mr Solomon had started, but be somewhat less ambiguous about it. He didn’t have the time available for the fun to be found in watching people trying to unlock riddles; he wasn’t sure Cass Jones did either.

He turned away from the window and sighed. This place was a dump; it was time to gather his belongings and move to another hotel. He wondered if he should shower first. Probably, given the blood that had dried on his skin after he’d become small again. It wouldn’t do to draw too much attention to himself. He walked through the bedroom and paused at the en-suite door to look back at the child on the bed. Without his skin, which was now tangled up somewhere in the mess of sheets on the floor, the boy looked even smaller. The bedside lamp was broken, he noticed, as was the mirror on the wall. He might have lost the ability to fuck, as he’d discovered moments before the mayhem ensued, but he certainly hadn’t lost his natural skills. It had felt good to be
himself
, to do what only
he
could do. He still
had his sharpness, and he would savour the memory, if only the experience hadn’t cost him so much. Not quite as much as it had cost the boy, he reflected, but still too much.