The Whisper of Stars (22 page)

‘We’ve got an early start,’ he said, scooping up the dishes suddenly. ‘We should get some sleep.’

Nice going, Jen,
she thought, and spent the rest of the evening wishing she hadn’t asked about
before
. She wasn’t good at talking, particularly not about matters of the heart. She took her time cleaning the apartment, convincing herself it was for Thomas’s eventual return and not to shake the feeling that the walls were closing in on her. In the end there was nothing left to do but sleep or wait.

‘Up at 4am,’ she said to Nathan, who was standing in the doorway.

He nodded, the kitchen light bleaching his face. Jen sighed and turned to leave.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly.

‘For what?’

‘I was happy once.’ He spoke quietly and with sadness. ‘I try not to think about that anymore.’

Jen nodded gently. ‘I can understand that.’

Nathan stepped towards her and she could see a determination within him. She’d seen it the night of the break-in, too, like a fire glowing under the surface.

‘I’m going to find out what happened to her,’ he said defiantly. ‘
And
we’re going to find out the truth, about Hibernation, about your father. All of it.’

Jen realised, perhaps a little late, that he was attempting a motivational speech. She was shocked. Not by his attempt – that was actually pretty good. She was surprised by her apparent need to hear it.

Sometimes maybe that’s all we need,
she thought.
Just one person to care, to try. Someone to believe in.

Without warning, her mind was thrown back in time. She became lost for a moment, transported back to her childhood. She was maybe eight or nine and had been watching a family of tree sparrows build a nest for weeks, excited by the chance to see the birds hatch and eventually fly. A few days later she caught a large crow eating the eggs – that was a feeling that would never leave her. Nature at its most brutal, tiny birds that would never hatch, never get a chance at life.

When she discovered one single egg had survived the attack, there had been no debate. It was her duty to give that single egg a fighting chance. She camped out all night in the garden, and as dawn was breaking, the morning dew soaking her blanket, she saw her mother walking from the house, lamp in hand. Jen expected to be gently reprimanded or marched off to bed, but was instead handed a mug of hot chocolate. Had a drink had ever tasted so good? Steaming and sweet, but more importantly full of love, a sign of support, of belief. Her body and heart had been warmed by her mother’s gesture of solidarity. Jen could still remember her triumphant cries when the crow returned to an empty nest. The bird had hatched, the crow defeated.

The following day her mother had brought her a gift, a simple, inexpensive ring. She had said that it was for Jen’s determination, that even if you could only save one life, it was still worth it. Jen had worn it with pride until her finger grew too wide and could no longer take it.

‘Are you okay?’ Nathan asked, pulling her back into the present.

‘Yes,’ Jen replied, confused, still consumed by the power of past. ‘You bought back an old memory for some reason.’

‘Of what?’

Jen stared past him, her eyes unfocussed, a frown spreading across her face. Nathan placed his hand on her shoulder. She looked up and shook her head, smiling limply.

‘I’m okay,’ she reassured him. ‘I’ll be happier when we’re moving.’

‘You and me both.’

Later that night, in the privacy of her bedroom, she pulled a small pouch from her bag and tipped the small ring into her hand. It was way too small for her now and had been dulled black and purple over time. She threaded a thin bootlace through it and tied it securely around her neck. Sleep eluded her for a while and she lay there in the darkness, working her fingers over the makeshift necklace.

She didn’t think of her mother very often. After she left Brook Mill they hadn’t spoken much, and their relationship had eventually been severed completely. Memories before her father’s death, like the one about the bird she had experienced earlier, were nearly always good. Afterwards was a different story. For the first time in years, Jen wished she could go back and start again. Make things right. It wasn’t her mother’s fault. As she slipped through the invisible membrane of consciousness, her last thoughts were of her mother, of home, of happier times. Questions drifted, tugging at her as she descended into the depths of sleep.

Where did she end up? Was she happy? Was she even alive?

Hours passed, lost in a heavy dreamless sleep. When her alarm sounded, Jen was surprised to feel unusually refreshed. She dressed in what she hoped would pass for typical farm workers’ attire and checked through her kit. If last night had been about her mother, then this morning her thoughts were with her father. He had inadvertently given her this chance and she wasn’t going to let him down. She wrapped the Histeridae in a small black cloth and pushed it deep into her bag before joining Nathan in the lounge.

‘Your car’s here,’ he said, nervously looking through a crack in the curtains, the morning sun on his face.

She looked him over. He was dressed smartly in warm, expensive-looking clothing. His reason for travel should stand up. Samara could be beautiful at this time of year and a freelance photographer traveling alone for a few days was believable. They hugged briefly, neither of them wanting to prolong the good-bye. Thomas’s place had been their home, a sanctuary and a prison. Both of them were glad to be leaving, even if they were heading into the unknown.

‘Good luck,’ Jen said.

‘And you. Be careful.’

Nathan watched her leave, waited until her car disappeared from view and checked his watch. His flight wasn’t until midday, but he went through his kit one more time. The night before he’d asked Jen how cold it was in Russia.

‘It’s minus thirty,’ she had said with a wry smile. ‘And for the record, that’s
really
fucking cold.’

Chapter 41

The taxi dropped her off a couple of miles short, as planned, just after 5am. It felt good to finally be outside again. Jen pulled her cap down and walked, keeping her head low, aware that a strategically placed camera could expose her at any moment. After an hour, she saw signs informing her she was nearing Lyneham. The airport was a major European hub, transporting food, machinery and workers, the bulk of them destined for Russia. She heard a vehicle approaching, its lights casting a deep shadow along the pavement. A charge of adrenalin fired through her. If this was her ride, it was bang on time.

The vehicle passed her and stopped, brake lights bathing the road. She heard the tug of a handbrake followed by a door slamming and footsteps. The driver appeared and without any acknowledgement opened the back of the truck.

‘Get in,’ he ordered.

Inside Jen could see hundreds of identical steel containers and, blinking in the darkness, eyes peering back at her.

‘I said get in,’ the driver’s voice was forceful and impatient.

Jen jumped up and found space, aware of the souls around her even if she couldn’t see them. They traveled in silence for about ten minutes before the truck slowed to a stop. Jen presumed they had reached the airport entrance and wondered how Lynch would circumvent the security checks. As they pulled away, Jen let out a sigh. The usual weakness, she guessed. People and money.

After a number of slow, weaving turns, the truck finally came to a stop. The driver killed the engine. Jen heard the sound of doors slamming and then the truck’s iron shutters flew up, bathing them in brilliant artificial light. The driver gestured impatiently for them to get out. Jen jumped down and three other stowaways followed her, squinting against the sudden brightness. The truck was one of many parked in a large refrigerated hangar, crates and boxes piled high around them. The driver gathered them together, pulled a scanning device from his jacket and individually checked them, ensuring the ID’s and retinals read correctly. Each one a green light. He looked around nervously before herding them into a nearby portable hut. It was dark and smelt of sweat and rubber. Jen could see overalls hanging on the walls.

‘Wait here,’ the driver said, looking at his watch. ‘In less than an hour the trucks arrive, and there will be a lot of people. Join the crowd.’ He eyeballed them individually. ‘Then you’re on your own.’

The man left and Jen picked a corner to sit and wait. The group consisted of a man, a woman and a younger girl. The man looked Polish, the woman and girl Indian, perhaps. Wherever they came from, they were clearly scared.

Conversation didn’t come and Jen was happy with that. She pulled her cap down and closed her eyes. She didn’t sleep, just listened and waited. Her thoughts turned to Nathan. There were no guarantees they hadn’t linked the two of them together by now. Zitagi and the agency were resourceful, way better than Jen could probably imagine. Nathan. He’d seemed distant when she left.

Coming from the queen of distant
.

She shrugged at the irony. In the past she would have considered him an idiot for undergoing a body swap. Now, she admired him. It must have taken a lot of guts. More importantly – having seen splintering first hand – was that it seemed to have worked so successfully. When all this was over, she would need to disappear like him. She couldn’t deny it, a fresh start sounded good.

Would he come with me?

She allowed her mind to drift into the future. It would all depend on what they found hidden in the vault. Right now that felt like a million miles away. She tried to focus on the task ahead: getting on the plane.

The door handle rattled heavily. Jen’s eyes opened immediately and she saw the Indian woman’s expression, wide-eyed and afraid. Voices now, the handle moving again and then a fist banging on the door. Jen shuffled over to the huddled group and placed her finger to her lips before positioning herself to the left of the door. If they came through, she would grab them and hope they weren’t armed. Thankfully the voices sounded jovial and after a few minutes they gave up and left. Jen hadn’t needed to use the Histeridae. That meant she could conserve her strength.

She stayed by the door until the trucks came, which were on time to the minute. The four of them left the hut without discussion, joining the sea of people streaming from the vehicles. She could feel the sudden heat of hundreds of bodies around her and the smell of dust and leather. Up ahead there was a checkpoint, two guards scanning people, and beyond that a huge aircraft. So far the plan was as agreed. He might be a slimy bastard, but the money spent on Lynch had been worth it.

Jen cleared pre-flight boarding and looked up at the huge Boeing AirHaul Freighter, the smell of aviation fuel burning her nostrils. The aircraft, which could take off vertically, was circular in shape and capable of transporting 640 tonnes of cargo over huge distances. She climbed the steel steps, made her way to her seat and buckled in. Above her, four windows cut into the domed fuselage bathed passengers below in warm morning sunlight. In front of her, a screen showed the runway and surrounding area as well as data on the journey. Flight time would be approximately two hours and fifty minutes.

The doors closed, and after the brief safety announcements the huge aircraft lifted vertically from the ground with a roar of its huge engines. Jen watched the sunlight move across the interior as the aircraft banked and gained altitude. She closed her eyes, deciding to catch up on some sleep, knowing it might be her last chance for a while.

She awoke suddenly.

The plane was shaking and lurching, fighting a strong westerly headwind. The seatbelt sign flashed on. She could see mountains on the screen in front of her. Russian mountains.

Forty minutes later the aircraft descended into Ufa International Airport, below them the unmistakable precision agriculture Russia was now so famous for. Massive biodomes glowing red, stretching on for miles, so many she lost count. Her thoughts returned to Zido Zitagi. She had known the feeling of outrunning her wouldn’t last.

They might be onto me already. Waiting for me when I step off this plane. What then? What about Nathan?

She clutched her bag tightly. Whatever happened, she had the Histeridae and would go out with a bang. The thought made her smile.

She needed to remember that.

Dig deep and that old Logan determination was still there. She would fight – to the death, if she needed to.

Chapter 42

The Boeing taxied to a halt. Jen disembarked and shuffled forward, glancing up occasionally at the dark shapes surrounding her, people with faces covered, outlines softened by fur coats and hats. The cold was instant and crushing, breath bellowing out in clouds from the mass of bodies. Ahead she could see a tower lighting a checkpoint and at least four armed guards. Beyond that, large buildings and hangars. She estimated there to be at least two hundred people around her. It wouldn’t take long before she was scanned.

She felt a hand grab her and turned. ‘Come with me,’ a solider ordered.

Lynch had promised her a contact on arrival, but she had no way of knowing if this was it.

The soldier tugged her aside and walked her towards a single-storey stone building that looked like a barracks. Jen could feel the Histeridae now, tempting her, asking to be used, offering to check the soldier’s intentions. She glanced at the soldier and noted his side arm, as well as an assault rifle slung over his shoulder. Both would be genetically linked to him and useless in her hands, but with the Histeridae, that didn’t matter – if she had to, she could use his hands instead. The thought made her shiver even more than the permeating, bone-numbing cold.

They reached a door. ‘Inside,’ the man said. ‘Quickly.’

Jen entered the still blackness of the room and faced him. Even in the low light she could see that he was younger than she had originally thought. He looked nervous, his cheeks reddened, veins split by the harsh conditions.

‘Over there.’ He pushed a key card into her hand and pointed. ‘That’s the stores. You can get supplies and sleep there tonight. Changeover is at 4.30am. Supplies come in and out. It’s your best chance.’