The Promised One (23 page)

Richard suddenly realized that he had been so busy that, until this moment, he had not really had time to think through all the implications of what he now knew about his daughter’s power and, in particular, the threat it posed to her safety. He knew that there was nothing that some people would stop at to control Lucy’s power by the use of money, promises or threats to herself or her loved ones. Those people included individuals from every walk of life: the greedy, the criminal and the insane; politicians; secret service agents; generals; bankers and captains of industry. And the threat was not confined to individuals: governments; tyrannical regimes; industrial concerns; traders – ranging from the corner shop to great international corporations; in fact any institution which could use Lucy’s power to better itself or diminish its opponents would not hesitate to do so once her secret was out.

He turned to Lucy and tried to sound casual.

‘How many people have you actually told about your secret, Lucy?’

She looked straight at him.

‘Don’t worry, Dad, I can guess what you’re thinking about. I’ve told very few. There’s you, Clare, Mum, Grandma and Grandpa, and Helen and Julian. That’s all and that’s how it must stay.’

‘It’s Helen and Julian I’m worried about,’ said Richard. ‘They seem nice enough but they’re not family and when we talked to them I didn’t appreciate what I realize now
that I’ve had chance to think about things.’

‘Well, I thought about it at the time, Dad, and it was a difficult decision which I had to make quickly on the spot. I don’t think there was any way we could have saved ourselves and them, without their knowing my secret. I had a long talk with Helen about it and I’m sure they’ll never do anything that would endanger us. We did what was right at the time and all we can do now is to trust them.’

Richard was relieved by what she said, and then remembered something else that had occurred to him when Lucy took over the camp and the airstrip:

‘Lucy, those ants and hornets – can you talk to
any
animals or insects?’

Lucy started to answer but stopped abruptly and looked at the pilot. Richard followed her gaze. The pilot had taken his headphones off and was no longer speaking on the radio. Richard, who could see him better than Lucy, saw that he was writing some data in a log book and was not listening to them. As Richard watched he finished what he was doing and replaced his headphones. Lucy relaxed and started talking again. The incident brought home to Richard just how aware Lucy was of the need for secrecy and how alert she was to dangerous or unguarded situations. Richard himself hadn’t even noticed the pilot taking his headphones off and realized that he was going to have to be much more careful.

‘Anyway, as I was saying,’ Lucy continued, ‘I’m most comfortable with mammals – much more so than with reptiles or birds, but even with them I can easily hold a
two-way conversation. Insects, spiders and worms are different. I get nothing back from them at all and they are very unpredictable: sometimes they respond and sometimes they don’t even seem to notice me. I’ve noticed, though, that insects that live in colonies like bees and ants – I think they’re called social insects, aren’t they?’ Richard nodded. ‘Well, they respond to my commands much better than individual insects. Grandpa thinks that it’s something to do with their brains being geared up to responding to group orders.’

‘What about even tinier creatures?’ asked Richard. He couldn’t bring himself to say straight out what he was thinking; the implications were too great.

‘I know what you’re getting round to Dad, don’t be shy! What you really want to know is whether I can control bacteria and viruses, isn’t it?’

‘Well – yes,’ said Richard, smiling.

‘The short answer is no. They seem to be just too primitive and Grandpa says bacteria are more like plants than animals. In a way I’m relieved, because otherwise I couldn’t justify not spending the rest of my entire life in hospitals, curing people of their infections.’

Richard was relieved at what he had learnt. The thought of her being able to cure infections and yet being unable to help more than a fraction of the millions of patients who could benefit from her powers, even if she worked
twenty-four
hours a day, was too frightening to contemplate.

R
ichard was exhausted by the emotional and physical stress of the past weeks and the past few days in particular. At last he felt able to relax, and against the background of the soothing drone of the plane’s engine he quickly fell asleep. As he drifted off, his mind was full of his discussions with Lucy and soon he was lost in one of the most vivid dreams he had ever experienced.

Five years had elapsed and he was sitting in the lounge of their home in London. The room looked somehow different and it took him no longer than the average man – several minutes – to realize that it was because there was new wallpaper, a new carpet and new chair covers. It was late in the evening and he was waiting for Lucy. Clare was away on a gap-year trip after finishing at university and, as it was the school holidays, Joanna had taken Sarah and cousins Ben, Henry and Christopher to stay with her parents down at the coast.

He heard the front door slam and Lucy came in. She was now tall and her beautiful hair had been cropped very short. She came into the lounge and flopped down on to the sofa. She had been getting increasingly angry and
frustrated over the failure of the government to honour the commitments it had made at successive international conferences, starting with the Kyoto Conference, to reduce national emissions of carbon dioxide and a variety of toxic pollutants.

‘Are you going up to London tomorrow, Dad?’ said Lucy.

‘No, I’m staying at home to finish a scientific paper I’m writing,’ said Richard.

‘Good,’ she said, ‘because there’s going to be chaos.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Richard.

‘Well, you know that one of the things I’ve been doing to help the animals is to minimize climatic change?’

‘Of course,’ said Richard.

‘I issued an anonymous ultimatum to the government a month ago. If they didn’t take some definite action by today I was going to show them the kind of things that might happen. They haven’t done anything, so tomorrow I’m going to use the animals to close down the Stock Exchange.’ She briefly explained what she was going to do and how easy it would be.

‘But –’ Richard didn’t know where to begin ‘– how could any government respond to an anonymous threat? It could be just anyone trying to stir them up.’

‘I gave them a code,’ said Lucy, ‘so though they don’t know who I am they’ll know when I give them the identical code tomorrow that it’s the same person who spoke to them a month ago.’ Richard thought for a moment. The Stock Exchange was one of the world’s
leading financial centres. To close it unexpectedly would cause unthinkable confusion and financial instability.

‘You just can’t do this!’ said Richard. ‘It will cause financial ruin for millions and damage the City’s reputation, the government and the country.’

‘Just watch me!’ said Lucy. She seemed colder and harder than the sweet girl he used to know.

‘But you’d be breaking all the rules of civilized behaviour,’ protested Richard. ‘It’s a kind of anarchy and many innocent people will suffer from your actions.’

‘Sometimes breaking the rules is the only way to achieve anything,’ said Lucy. ‘Do you call it civilized behaviour to destroy the atmosphere? If there’s to be any planet left for our children and grandchildren and all the animals, then somebody has
got
to do something drastic. As for suffering – a few people always have to suffer for the benefit of the majority.’

‘But it’s
you
who is deciding what is best for everyone, without anyone else having had the chance to discuss it with you. That’s what all the world’s most ruthless dictators did – think of Hitler, Stalin, Chairman Mao, Pol Pot and all the rest.’

‘Ah, but what they wanted was wrong and what I want is right,’ said Lucy.

‘But that’s what they all thought,’ said Richard, ‘and they all thought that the end justified the means – that what they wanted was so important it didn’t matter how they achieved it.’

‘Dad, you’re just a boring old git. This talk about
discussion makes me see red. People have been
discussing
global warming, ocean pollution, destruction of the rainforest and species extinction for years and years and look what’s happened – just about nothing. Talking never achieved anything. The world is in a desperate situation and desperate remedies are required. Your stupid, selfish, greedy generation got us all into this mess and I’m going to get us out of it!’

‘But …’ Richard felt desperately worried and sad. ‘You’ll bring the City of London to its knees,’ he said, ‘which won’t benefit anyone. Commerce will grind to a halt throughout the country.’

‘Not just this country,’ said Lucy grimly as she went to the door. ‘The world! Through the animanet I’m going to do the same to the Stock Exchange in New York later today and Tokyo tomorrow. Good night.’

She shut the door behind her, leaving Richard struggling to cope with what he had just heard and wondering what he should do. Should he warn the authorities? He couldn’t do it effectively without saying who he was, which was unthinkable – Lucy’s secret power must remain secret. An anonymous call would probably have no effect whatsoever – they probably got dozens of crank calls every week. He comforted himself with the thought that Lucy was just winding him up, as did all teenagers with their parents, and that he was playing into her hands by over-reacting.

When Richard woke the next morning he was surprised to see how late it was. Joanna usually got up first, and with her being away he had overslept. He got up and went
downstairs, made some coffee and sat down to read the paper. Lucy’s bedroom door was shut and he presumed she was still in bed – so much for changing the world, he thought.

The scene changed and he found himself in the City of London as the invisible observer of an unfolding drama. He could see Lucy standing on the pavement of a busy street. Across the road was the entrance to the London Stock Exchange. She had dark sunglasses on and was carrying a map of London. She looked just like a tourist gazing at one of the world centres of finance. She was very attractive and received more than a few second glances from the throng of men hurrying to their city offices.

Suddenly a group of large dogs appeared – rottweilers, alsatians and bull-mastiffs. They went to a nearby pedestrian crossing and each sat on the pavement behind an unsuspecting pedestrian waiting to cross, as though accompanying a master or mistress. The traffic stopped and the dogs trotted on to the crossing with their temporary owners. The pedestrians continued on their way to the opposite pavement but the dogs remained on the crossing. Traffic started to build up in both directions and cars started hooting. A policeman moved towards the crossing but hastily retreated from the row of snarling jaws that confronted him. Most of the dogs now lay down on the crossing, those at each end of the pavement facing outwards towards the pavement to attack any pedestrians bold enough to confront them. A few dogs left the main group and began to patrol between the stationary cars in
both directions. One or two drivers who had begun to open their car doors hurriedly thought better of it after seeing one man lose an entire trouser leg and just manage to get back into his car before losing his actual leg. More dogs appeared from side streets and joined the patrols. They did not attack those who remained on the pavement or in their cars, but were aggressive if anyone came towards them or tried to leave their vehicle. Within ten minutes the whole area was paralysed. No vehicle could move on any street. A helicopter was spotted in the distance, but as immense flocks of pigeons had appeared from nowhere to wheel in great circles above the City, the pilot could not approach any nearer for fear of the birds damaging the rotor blades.

Two of the largest rottweilers now detached themselves
from the group and sauntered to the Stock Exchange. The large crowd that had by now gathered on the pavement to watch the curious spectacle melted away from the dogs like the Red Sea parting for Moses. The animals went to the sliding doors and as they opened, the dogs sat one against each door to keep them open, snarling savagely at the commissionaire who hurriedly retreated into his office. Soon, in the distance, it appeared as though a swirl of black fog was unseasonally enveloping the City on a summer morning, but as the dark cloud drew nearer a humming noise filled the air and countless swarms of bees and wasps came into view, flying just above the queues of stationary vehicles. Nearer to the Stock Exchange their buzzing sounded like a hundred electric motors run wild and the crowds fell to the ground, covering their heads and
faces with jackets and cardigans. They needn’t have worried, for the insects had not the slightest interest in curious crowds and casual passers-by. They zoomed like a black funnel into the open doors of the Stock Exchange and entered the old trading floor and every other open room in the building. A moment later they were followed by large flocks of jackdaws and magpies.

At the same time another flight of very large birds appeared in the sky from the north-west. It looked as though they had come from the aviary at London Zoo as well as the surrounding countryside, for there were not only buzzards but numerous large vultures and even two golden eagles, each carrying a small monkey.

The flying party swooped low in the street, passing close to the attractive young tourist who was still standing on the pavement, apparently fascinated by what was going on. Then, as if controlled by a radio signal, the strange flock abruptly changed direction and flew to the roof of the Exchange which was covered in communication aerials, transmitting rods and satellite dishes. There they settled and immediately started wreaking havoc on the complex assortment of communication devices. Savage beaks, curved talons, teeth and eager paws ripped and tore at cables and connections, twisted and dislodged satellite dishes and uprooted aerials.

The scene changed again, so that Richard now found himself in the corridors and offices of the Exchange, where there was complete chaos. Nobody could escape from the multitude of insects that had now formed into
hundreds of smaller groups that buzzed around the heads of all that could not find immediate refuge in the offices, lifts or toilets. Those who had already managed to reach their offices slammed doors behind them in relief but then gazed in dismay at the scenes before them. Rats and mice had been hard at work during the hours of darkness and all computer, fax and phone cables had been bitten through, their severed ends hanging limply from every desk and terminal. Every key left in a door, cupboard door or filing cabinet had been removed during the night by squirrels, led into the building by rats who had guided them through their regular runs from the sewers into the catering section and from there throughout the Exchange.

Even as the bewildered office workers watched, hosts of jackdaws and magpies swept through every room collecting any loose keys, keyrings and security devices that had been inaccessible to the squirrels, pecking savagely at anyone foolhardy enough to try to stop them. Many people ran to the windows to see the reason for the loud and incessant hooting from the street and were astonished by the sight below. Even while they watched, a party of police dog-handlers with rifles – presumably for firing tranquillizing darts – pushed their way through the crowds in Old Broad Street towards the pack guarding the crossing.

As they did so a flock of falcons stooped down from the sky like divebombers, and descended on the handlers, landing on their heads and shoulders and starting to attack their faces with hooked beaks and sharp talons. The onslaught was so sudden and furious that the police split
up and fled for cover, dropping their rifles to leave their hands free to protect their faces and to try to beat off the attacking hawks.

Waitresses from a local pub were now passing among the crowds with large trays selling hot steak and kidney pies, sushi, pork scratchings and coffee. To the astonishment and amusement of those watching from the pavement they were allowed by the dogs to approach the cars to sell food and drink to the stranded drivers, but no one else could step on to the road without being attacked.

The scene changed back to the inside of the exchange, where the experience of Ronald Stiltskin, the security officer on the third floor, was typical of many throughout the building.

Since the tragic terrorist events of recent years an order had been issued to the effect that an Incident Cupboard was to be installed on every floor. As the wasps zoomed up the corridor, Stiltskin dashed to the cupboard in his section with his jacket over his head. He knew that the equipment in there included protective clothing for use in case of accidents or incidents involving radiation, toxic chemicals and biological hazards. If this wasn’t a biological hazard he couldn’t imagine what was and wrenched the door open just in time to see a long grey tail disappear into a large hole gnawed through the back of the chipboard cupboard.

In the cupboard were three face masks, three protective suits, three emergency axes, three plastic bottles of water and a wind-up portable radio. Two of the face masks were full to the brim with fresh rat droppings, while in the third
a mouse was putting the finishing touches to a nest; she fled as Ronald peered in. The nest was made from shreds of the
Financial Times
and
Investment Weekly
, their edges neatly serrated by little teeth, and Ronald could just make out a fragment of an advertisement box saying: ‘Cut this out and start your own little nest egg.’

He seized one of the protective suits but dropped it when he saw that the arms and legs had been chewed off; the others were similarly damaged, though curiously there were no fragments from the suits anywhere to be seen. The axeheads had been gnawed off their shafts, and the entire cupboard floor and its contents were soaked from the water that had seeped from the holes chewed in the plastic bottles.

Stiltskin grabbed the wind-up radio and ran for safety to the nearest lift. As the door opened he flung off his
wasp-covered
jacket and got in, clawing off the wasps that had got in through the gap in his jacket and were starting to sting his nose and lips. He breathed a sigh of relief as the doors closed but his deliverance was short-lived. Suddenly all the lights went out, plunging the inside of the lifts into inky blackness, and any moving lifts stopped, most of them between floors. It was as though a switch had been thrown – which was, as it happens, just what had occurred: one of the monkeys, having devastated the communications on the roof, was now in the fuse room shutting off the row of heavy-duty switches that covered an entire wall. The bewildered officer wound up the radio in the dark and switched it on.