The Industry (10 page)

‘Latham tasked one of his tech recruits to disguise the prototype code as a puzzle and post it up on a quiz website — the idea was to widen the search as much as possible. Then he waited for someone to submit a sequence that matched the one they had. Shockingly, it was only a week before a match was submitted. And now here you are, deciphering codes and giving correct sequences, and you're like a miracle to the Industry — the key to it all. The solution to our biggest problem.
Everyone is after you, and I'm sorry to say they probably will be for a long time to come.'

Kirra stared at her hands, feeling horrified.
Everyone is after you and they will be for a long time to come.

‘What about Milo?' she asked, struggling to keep her voice balanced.

‘Well, no one knows about Milo,' Desmond replied slowly. ‘He was an afterthought. A secret well kept by Latham. He'd have liked for you to have been kept a secret too, except that it's impossible not to notice that Latham is operating at full capacity again, taking jobs left, right and centre, most of them Spencer-system-protected. It got out a few days after you were kidnapped — by way of a loud-mouthed recruit, probably — that Latham possesses the only known accessible Spencer code Translator in the world.'

‘Are you sure no one knows Milo's another Translator?'

‘Quite sure. I didn't even know, and I was there at the factory. Latham's clearly learnt from his mistakes with you and is taking much more care to keep Milo a complete secret.'

Kirra expelled a small sigh of relief. If they ever made it out of this alive, Milo had the chance to retreat back into normality. He could leave it all behind him and move on with his life. She felt like springing to her feet and doing some sort of celebratory dance. Then she wondered why. It wasn't as though she could go with him.

She glanced up at Desmond as he drained his mug. ‘And what about you?' she asked coldly. ‘Do you get paid to kill people?'

‘I used to,' he said. ‘Not anymore.'

‘Why not?'

‘I found it wasn't as rewarding a career as I'd hoped. Now I'm an Extraction specialist.'

‘Which is what, exactly?' Kirra asked.

He thumbed the handle of his mug, mulling over how best to describe himself. ‘Say someone's been sent to prison, someone wealthy. Their family pays me to get them out and then they go into hiding. I usually extract the prisoner in transit — it's easier that way — but I've had to force my way into a couple of prisons — not an easy day's work. I'm not cheap to hire, and why should I be? If I'm going to set criminals free I like to take a good portion of their money from them first.'

He nodded in her direction.

‘Your Extraction was probably the hardest job I've ever taken.'

Kirra glanced around the immaculate apartment. ‘Where are we?'

‘Madrid. Sorry about the drug; it was easier that way.'

‘Easier for whom?' Kirra said, more to herself than to him. ‘You could have taken Milo with us. You didn't have to leave him.'

‘If I'd known he was a Translator I would have. I didn't think he was worth anything.'

Kirra bristled, but recalled having once felt a similar way.

‘Well, he is,' she said.

Desmond gave a small shrug, got up and dropped his mug in the sink. ‘We've got to get started tomorrow, but for now you can sleep.'

‘Get started?'

‘I'm doing someone a favour here, but before that there are a few jobs I need your help with. Really, all I need is for you to crack a couple of codes so I can send them to my colleagues. They're waiting to do a job in Kyoto and then another in Phuket. Also, I need your help here in Madrid. The police have started using the Spencer System on all their prisoner transit trucks. Cedro Aguilar is on his way to a maximum security facility next week and you're going to help me get him away.'

‘What did he do?'

‘Who cares? His wife is paying me to get him out.'

Kirra, however, found that she did care. She also found Desmond's lack of morals intensely annoying.

‘Why do you assume I'm going to help you?' she asked. ‘What makes you think I'm going anywhere with you? I don't even know you.'

Desmond observed her from behind the kitchen island, his arms folded comfortably across his chest.

‘You don't really have a choice, do you?' he said. ‘What else are you going to do? Surely Latham's told you that he's watching your family? Don't delude yourself into thinking he won't harm them if you attempt to make contact. He's prepared to do anything to keep you to himself, so by my count you don't really have any other options … unless you plan on going back to him.'

Kirra glared at her boots. Of course she wasn't going back to Latham. Some part of her knew she ought to be grateful to Desmond, really. He had released her from a life of captivity in the factory, and he didn't seem to be intending to treat her like a prisoner himself. At a
time when going back to Freemont wasn't an option, Desmond really was all she had.

He washed his mug, allowing her a moment of private deliberation, which was outstandingly interrupted by the door bursting open with a crash. A young woman strode into the room and, barely looking at them, slapped her black laptop bag on the kitchen island. Kirra glanced apprehensively at Desmond. He didn't act as though this was anything out of the ordinary, so she supposed she wasn't in any immediate danger.

‘I think this is going to be harder than we thought,' the woman said, without so much as an explanation or a greeting. ‘Aguilar's transit has been rescheduled.'

After failing to receive a response from Desmond, she glanced up and then followed his gaze to the couch. She froze when her sharp, dark eyes fell on Kirra.

‘Who is that?' she said abruptly.

‘Kirra, this is Mai Luong,' Desmond said. ‘She's worked on and off with me for many years. Mai, I'd like to introduce my new friend Kirra Hayward.'

Mai was small and intense to look at. She had shiny black hair styled to sit evenly above her shoulders, and thin, arching eyebrows. She was wearing fitted black slacks and a brown jacket, a fine silver chain around her neck, and two plain silver earrings just visible beneath her hair. She flashed her eyes around the room as though expecting to find someone else there, before locking back onto Kirra and beginning what felt like an alarmingly thorough evaluation. Kirra tried not to squirm.

‘Kirra Hayward?' Mai repeated, looking suspicious.

‘Kirra Hayward,' Desmond confirmed.

‘No,' Mai said with a curt shake of her head. ‘That's just a … No.'

‘Interesting, isn't it, how few people know that Kirra Hayward is just a schoolgirl,' Desmond pondered out loud.

Kirra felt a stab of annoyance at his choice of words.
Just
a schoolgirl?

Mai's eyes shot to the door and back, her expression one of frightened vigilance. ‘Desmond, are you sure you weren't followed? Are you sure we're safe here with her?'

‘I'm sure,' he said.

‘Desmond, this is very dangerous! Did you ensure maximum secur —'

‘Tea, Mai?' Desmond asked loudly.

Mai glanced at the door, then the windows, and finally at Desmond. ‘Yes. Please,' she replied stiffly. She then returned her gaze to Kirra, who was already feeling uncomfortable enough without Mai's hawkish eyes trained on her.

‘How do you do it?' she asked abruptly.

Kirra jumped a little. ‘What? The code?'

‘Of course the code! What else?'

Kirra shrugged. ‘I don't know. I just … can,' she said truthfully.

Mai crossed her arms. ‘I can't accept that,' she shot back. ‘There
must
be an algorithm!'

Kirra eyed her worriedly. She seemed incredibly put out.

‘An algorithm is just a set of steps for working something out,' Desmond interjected when Kirra failed to answer.

‘I know what an algorithm is!' Kirra exclaimed. ‘I was the best maths student at my school!'

Neither Desmond nor Mai seemed remotely impressed by this.

‘But there must be some pattern you follow,' Mai pressed on stubbornly.

‘No,' Kirra told her, getting annoyed in return. ‘Depending on the succession of characters, certain numbers and letters make sense. I see one number, I write it down. I keep looking and immediately see a letter that just has to follow. There is no pattern. It just … happens.'

Kirra was certain she'd never seen anyone look quite as incensed as Mai now did.

Desmond gave Kirra a small grin. ‘Mai is one of the most proficient Analysts I've ever met,' he said. ‘It drives her mad that she can't translate the code.'

Mai shot him an enraged glance, her delicate jaw clenched. Then she zipped open her bag and pulled out a sleek black laptop.

‘You weren't supposed to get her 'til Friday,' she muttered to Desmond, as though Kirra had suddenly disappeared and they were free to discuss her at length.

‘Yes, believe it or not I do remember our plan,' he replied, still unable to contain his smile. ‘We had a little problem at the factory. An impromptu escape attempt required a modification.'

‘Oh,' Mai replied, and dropped the matter. Her fingers flew across the keys of her laptop with almost inhuman speed. ‘Look at this.'

Desmond turned away from preparing Mai's tea and looked at the screen. Kirra watched them curiously as they studied the laptop together, side by side. At the kitchen island, between the elevated microwave, the
blender and the coffee percolator, they almost looked like normal people.

‘Kirra, come and have a look,' said Desmond, his eyes glued to the computer.

She did as she was told, clambering unsteadily to her feet. She wasn't sure how she felt about being included. It was strange, yes, but a small part of her thrilled to it.

Mai pointed at the map of Madrid onscreen. ‘They were holding him here, just outside the city,' she explained. ‘But they've already moved him. He's at a station here,' she pointed to the city centre, ‘because they're suspicious someone might try to intervene. They're moving him to the maximum security prison on Thursday, not Saturday.'

‘Intervene? Who's after him?' Desmond asked. ‘His wife is paying us to get him out. She can't want him dead.'

‘She doesn't,' Mai agreed, minimising the map. ‘And they're not suspicious of an attack. They're suspicious of an Extraction.'

‘Really?' said Desmond. ‘Amazing.' He didn't look worried; on the contrary, he appeared quite delighted by the challenge it presented. ‘Well,' he said, ‘we'll just get him away on Thursday. Lucky I pulled Kirra out when I did, or it would have been too late.'

‘But I'll need to re-analyse the whole thing! Plus, I don't know the details of the new transit!' Mai protested.

‘Set up a meeting with your prison contact,' Desmond said. ‘He should be able to get hold of that information. It'll make the Extraction a bit more difficult, but not impossible. Not for us anyway.'

Desmond had ushered Kirra into the bedroom as soon as night fell, partly so she could rest and partly so he and Mai could continue discussing their plans in privacy. Kirra had come to a decision while lying wide awake in the room, but it was immediately clear to her that she couldn't proceed alone. Garnering Desmond's cooperation was crucial if she wanted her plans to succeed. She sighed as she shuffled her feet across the bed sheets, wondering how best to phrase her request to Desmond to increase her chances of getting a ‘yes' out of him.

She slid out of bed and crossed to the window. The rooftops of Madrid stretched out in every direction. She looked down to the street and watched a woman with shopping bags in her hands hurrying across the road. Kirra's gaze followed her until she rounded a corner and disappeared out of sight, quickening her pace, no doubt en route home.

It seemed an age had passed since Kirra had had a home and parents and siblings. For all intents and purposes she knew her family was long gone, as though wiped out by a flash flood or a freeway accident or a house fire, leaving her entirely on her own. Everything was different now, and by no real fault of her own (other than perhaps her foolishness in submitting the sequence in the first place) her life could never be the same. For some reason, this realisation wasn't particularly upsetting. In fact, it had a mildly liberating quality about it. Kirra accepted it quickly and effortlessly, understanding that her abduction marked the end of an era, like graduating from school, or leaving a job, or getting to the highest level of one of Mitchell's video games and realising there was nowhere else to go.

She soon came to another conclusion: the only person she could rely on now, the only person who could offer her any sort of stability, was trapped in a factory in Germany. It didn't matter that Latham had engineered their friendship. Kirra knew, deep down, that didn't change anything. Latham might have put them in the cell together, but even he couldn't force the things she felt for Milo.

How could she even begin to contemplate escaping the Industry without him there to help her? What would it mean to be free if he was still imprisoned? How could she live with herself?

Kirra knew she had a very serious task ahead of her. Somehow she had to find a way to wriggle free of the Industry forever; and, if she could, to expose Latham to the authorities. But she knew beyond all doubt that
she could not do it without Milo. He was part of the equation, a crucial element, as deeply entrenched in all this as she was. He deserved a chance to put things right too. She could go no further without him, and even if she could she didn't want to. Milo was everything now, her one true friend.

Besides, Kirra knew it was her fault he was mixed up in all this. If only she'd cooperated with Latham at the start he wouldn't have gone looking for a second Translator to use against her. Milo would still be in Southampton with his parents and brothers. He'd be at uni, going out, making friends and having fun. Perhaps he'd even have a girlfriend? Kirra despised the thought, but that was the reality of what she'd taken from him. He was missing out on being young. Every day he was in the cell was a day of his life wasted; days he could never get back, all because of Kirra. He'd been pulled into this because of her, so it was her responsibility to see that he climbed back out again.

Kirra crossed softly to the door and opened it just enough for her to slide out into the kitchen where Desmond and Mai were conversing in low voices over the laptop.

‘I'll help you,' she told them when they looked up. ‘But we have to make a deal first.'

 

Desmond and Mai agreed to talk to Kirra, but asked for her patience first. They'd scheduled a meeting with Mai's contact who had information pertaining to Aguilar's transit, and they flat out refused to leave Kirra alone in the apartment while they were out.

Kirra thought it was just as much of a risk taking her along but didn't voice her objections. She was determined to ask as little of them as possible before she had to ask as much of them as she could. She followed them out of the apartment building into Mai's little black hire car, and together they drove to a quiet corner bar. Desmond and Mai flanked Kirra, shooting furtive glances down the street and doing a visual sweep of the place before they shooed her inside.

The lit-up sign over the door declared the bar's name to be ‘Ruiz', and it was empty save for an older woman wrapped tightly in a cream and gold pashmina. She was reading what looked like a romance novel over her glass of wine. The place smelled strongly of sweet, sugary drinks and was poorly lit and dirty. The carpet was so sticky Kirra had to pull each foot off the ground to take the next step.

Mai cast around for her contact, who apparently hadn't shown up yet, before ushering Kirra into a gaudy velvet booth right at the very back of the bar. Desmond shoved a soft drink in front of her even though she told him she wanted nothing.

‘I'm hardly getting you a glass of scotch but, for appearances' sake, you'd better drink something,' he said, sitting down across from her.

The bar, despite being empty, was still a public place and that made Kirra nervous. She tried the soft drink, sucking a mouthful up through a straw, and felt the bubbles fizz and sting in her nose, the sensation quite startling. Her mother was strictly against soft drinks in the house, and no one, not even Olivia, had ever been able to sway her on that rule.

‘I want you to send me back,' Kirra said, taking her opportunity whilst they waited for Mai's contact to arrive.

Desmond's glass, which had been on the way to his mouth, halted in midair. ‘Are you serious?' he said.

‘Yes.'

Mai raised one of her pointed eyebrows, but said nothing.

‘Well … that's not an option,' Desmond spluttered, his glass still hovering some distance from his mouth. ‘We need you. You aren't going anywhere.'

‘I won't help you then,' Kirra said.

Desmond rubbed his eyes and a small, helpless sound escaped him. Mai closed her laptop, which she seemed to take everywhere with her, and perched her chin on her palm, observing Kirra with interest.

‘Why do you want to go back?' Desmond said finally. ‘You weren't exactly treated well there.'

Kirra palmed the broken watch, which she kept zipped up in the tiny inside pocket of Lena's jacket. ‘Milo,' she said quietly.

Mai looked puzzled, but understanding dawned on Desmond's face.

‘Oh, I get it. You two were friends,' he said, slouching back in his chair.

‘Wasn't that the point?' Kirra muttered. ‘So, you can either take me back or,' she paused to ensure they were both listening, ‘extract him for me.' Then, just for good measure, she added, ‘Please.'

‘Look,' said Desmond, ‘his value just increased a hundredfold to them because they no longer have you to
fall back on. Therefore, they'll have upped the security a hundred times over. So … we can't get him out for you.'

‘But isn't that what you specialise in? Breaking people out of prison?'

‘Yes … but … this is different.'

‘Only because there's no financial gain in it for you,' she said, realising she'd hit the mark when an ashamed expression crossed his face. ‘Believe me, I'd pay you if I could. Any amount you asked.'

‘I'm confused,' Mai interjected, taking her opportunity amid the silence. ‘Who exactly is Milo?'

‘Remember the kid Latham brought in to use as leverage against Kirra?' Desmond said.

Mai pursed her lips. ‘No.'

Desmond blinked. ‘I told you about this,' he said.

‘Months ago, yes?' she asked, seeming to dredge up a long-forgotten fact. ‘Back at the start of the year?'

‘Exactly. Turns out Latham didn't just pull in some random kid. He went back to the code he'd planted on the internet and found another Translator.'

‘This kid can also translate the code?' Mai asked.

‘Yep,' said Desmond.

Mai looked positively murderous.

‘I want that information to be kept secret,' Kirra said suddenly.

‘It's not really up to you, I'm afraid,' Mai said, still looking livid. ‘If Latham wants it to be known, then it will be known.'

‘Why would he do that?'

‘If Milo gets away, Latham could release the news of a second Translator to every other Contractor in the
world. They'd put all their time and money into finding him, and the moment Milo's snatched up, Latham just has to track down whichever Contractor got to him first and take him back. It would be the easier way of finding him. If Milo stays where he is, then chances are his skills will be kept secret.'

‘He can't stay there!' Kirra exclaimed. ‘Even if it is the safest place for him! You don't know what it's like being shut up in a cell alone!'

Desmond gazed at her, looking torn. Mai pressed a finger to her lips, her brow wrinkling in thought.

‘Kirra, we're trying to understand,' Desmond said earnestly, ‘but you can't comprehend the danger you're in. Right now, Contractors everywhere are searching for the least bit of information on your whereabouts. They're climbing over each other to get to you. If Latham decides to use them to find you, there is nowhere you can hide. And Milo will be in the same danger if you free him.'

Kirra pressed her hands to her face. ‘Getting separated was the worst thing that could have happened,' she told them, her voice strained.

‘Wouldn't the worst thing be dying?' Desmond suggested.

Kirra looked at him, tempted to tell him he was wrong. Instead she remained silent.

Desmond stared at her. Mai was staring too, but it wasn't the contemptuous glare Kirra was becoming accustomed to. Her expression showed a mixture of understanding and compassion. Kirra didn't understand the change, but she didn't dwell on it. She was too busy glowering at Desmond.

‘Listen. You either get Milo out and get him to me, or I'll just forget everything I know about the code. It's your choice. You need me, remember?'

Nothing was said for several tense moments.

It was Mai who spoke first, with a very small, ‘Des?'

She scrutinised him closely, her sharp eyebrows elevated, until he gave a sigh and threw up his hands in defeat.

Mai returned her gaze to Kirra. ‘After we get Aguilar, we'll start planning for your friend. Plans often have to change at the last minute in these situations so … don't get your hopes up,' she said.

A short, pot-bellied man entered the bar and Mai looked over at him.

‘He's here,' she said and got to her feet.

She walked over to the man, clasped his hand momentarily, and the pair slid into a different booth. The conversation that followed was too hushed for Kirra to hear.

‘We promise we'll do our best,' Desmond said softly. ‘That's all.'

Kirra looked over to the bar, where the young bartender was polishing wine glasses with a scrunched-up wad of newspaper. He had a tiny amber stain on his collar and his sandy blond hair was brushed across his forehead. He kept turning to peer at the small clock on the shelf behind him every few minutes.

‘I heard about what happened with Lena,' Desmond said after a moment.

Kirra choked on a sip of her drink. ‘You knew Lena?'

‘Yes. She was remarkably observant; within hours of
meeting me she'd worked out that I wasn't a true recruit, but she kept my secret very safe.'

‘Yeah … I believe that,' Kirra said, her voice catching softly.

‘I know she looked after you, and was killed attempting to help you escape. Kirra, it's important for you to know that it wasn't your fault.'

Kirra swirled her straw around the inside of her glass. ‘Yes, it was,' she said hollowly. ‘Of course it was. If it wasn't for me she would be alive right now.'

‘That's not really true. Lena's days were numbered right from the beginning. She knew too much. They would have killed her eventually. She knew it just as well as they did.'

‘At least she might have had a chance,' Kirra murmured.

Desmond leaned forward to still Kirra's trembling hand, his fingers warm against her skin. ‘Looking after you was one of the only things she had left,' he said, a measure of true sorrow in his eyes. ‘Despite the circumstances, I think you made her happy.'

Kirra stared at an invisible mark on the table, her lip quivering fiercely.

‘She made no difference,' she said quietly. ‘She was just a servant. Her life wasn't important. Her life didn't change anything. No one except me will remember her, and now there's nothing left of her. No bearing on anything. She made no difference.'

Desmond released Kirra's hand. ‘Believe that if you want,' he said. ‘Deep down you know what's really true.'

Kirra continued to play with her straw.

‘How old was she?' she asked suddenly.

‘Twenty-nine.'

‘Where was she from?'

‘Croatia.'

‘What was her last name?'

‘Markic.'

‘We should go,' Mai said as she strode back to the table. ‘I have the details of the trans —' She stopped mid-sentence, staring, aghast, at the window facing onto the street. ‘DESMOND!' she screamed.

Kirra barely caught a glimpse of the three men striding towards the bar, simultaneously removing handguns from beneath their jackets, before Mai seized her wrist, yanked her off her chair and flung her onto the floor. Kirra landed with a thud, temporarily stunned, and her soft drink smashed beside her.

Both Desmond and Mai pulled out guns: Mai's from her laptop case, Desmond's from his belt. Mai threw herself in front of Kirra as the three men barged through the door and raised their weapons. Three ear-splitting shots rang out.

One narrowly missed Desmond, sinking into the wall behind him. On the way, it struck the frame of an oil painting of two entwined lovers, sending wood splinters and canvas into the air like misshapen confetti. The second bullet struck a table and sent it toppling, and the third shattered a window.