‘Don’t look so downcast, Richard,’ Stafford went on. ‘If this does work, think of the lives that could be saved.’
‘And the money you’ll make.’
‘The money we’ll make. This is a collaborative venture, which is why we all have share options.’
‘Am I done here?’ Richard asked. ‘For the time being.’
Richard walked back, unescorted, to see Josh. There was a tangible air of relief to the place now. A collective tension that had built in the lead-up to the initiation of the trial seemed to have dissipated. Even the guards, who’d been hyper-vigilant bordering on trigger-happy since the incident with Brand, appeared to have taken it down a notch. One of them even managed a mumbled acknowledgement as Richard passed.
Maybe it would all turn out OK, he told himself. If the vaccine worked, Stafford would be appeased. Richard could leave. Forget it ever happened.
Clinging to those thoughts, he opened the door into his room. Josh was snuggled under the duvet. He sat on the edge of the bed and reached out a hand to stroke his son’s head.
But his fingers found only pillow. Frantically, he pulled it out, tossing the duvet on to the floor at the same time.
The bed was empty.
Sixty-six
A light above the bed spotlighted Mareta. Beyond that was semi-darkness. The guard detailed to look after her was gone. From what she’d noticed of his breath and the pallor of his skin she guessed that he’d stepped outside for a cigarette.
But she wasn’t alone. Next to the bed, Josh perched on a seat.
‘What happened to your leg?’ he asked. ‘I mean, what really happened?’
‘A man shot me.’
Josh didn’t react. ‘That’s what I thought. Why’d he shoot you?’
‘To save himself.’ She paused. ‘And perhaps to save me.’
Josh’s brow creased as he tried to follow the logic and came up blank. ‘Do you get bored lying here all the time?’
‘Very,’ Mareta said.
‘Me too.’
Mareta turned her head and smiled at him. ‘Maybe we could play a game.’
Richard rushed from the accommodation block, a guard at his side struggling to keep up.
‘Don’t worry, Dr Hulme, we’ll find him. He probably just wandered off.’
Richard spotted Stafford getting into his car. He raced over to him. The guard stepped between them.
‘What have you done with him?’ Richard demanded.
‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘Josh has gone.’
‘This game sounds difficult,’ Josh said, counting off the things he had to do on the fingers of one hand.
‘I thought you were good at games?’
‘I am.’
‘OK, so prove it to me.’
Josh’s chin jutted out. ‘OK then, I will.’
‘So I’ll count to two hundred,’ Mareta said, and closed her eyes.
‘A thousand.’
‘OK, a thousand. One. Two. Three. .’
Josh turned and ran out of the room.
Having reassured Richard that he’d help with the search for Josh, Stafford ducked into his car and put in a call to his father. ‘It’s going like a dream,’ he told him.
‘Stage one’s complete?’
‘Vaccine’s eliciting no adverse reactions so far.’
‘It didn’t in the animals either,’ Nicholas Van Straten said coolly.
‘But it’s been tweaked since then.’
‘What about Brand?’
‘What about him?’
‘You think word wouldn’t reach me, Stafford?’
‘We had a security situation. It’s been resolved now.’
‘Let’s make sure we keep it that way. I’ve been catching a world of shit from the media over this footage.’
‘What footage?’
Josh had been on scavenger hunts before, but not ones where he’d had to try not to be seen. It was hard. Especially as there were so many people rushing around. The good thing was that he only really had to find one item, although how he was going to get to it he didn’t know. All he could do was try his best.
As he ducked into a recess in the corridor, one of the guards passed him. He had it, right there on his belt. That was no good. He had to find someone who didn’t have it on their belt. He knew where the guards slept when they weren’t on duty. Missy had shown him when he’d first arrived. Maybe he could try there.
The guard stubbed out his cigarette as the man in the white lab coat ran towards him. One of the science guys, a pretty senior one if he remembered rightly.
‘I was just heading back inside, sir.’
‘Inside where? Where were you supposed to be?’
‘The medical block.’
Richard grabbed at the guard’s sleeve. ‘Show me.’
Josh handed the keys to Mareta. ‘What number were you up to?’
‘Nine hundred and ninety nine,’ Mareta said, palming the keys into the folds of the sheet.
‘Wow, I made it just in time.’
‘You did really good.’
The door burst open and Richard rushed in, flanked by two guards. He snatched up Josh into his arms, pressed his son’s head into his shoulder.
‘He OK?’ asked one of the guards.
‘Why wouldn’t he be?’ Mareta said.
‘We were just playing a game. Am I in trouble?’ Josh’s voice was shrill with worry.
‘Just don’t do that ever again, do you hear me?’ Richard scolded him.
‘What did you think I was going to do?’ Mareta asked, the tiny set of cuff keys clutched tightly in her hand.
She waited an hour before calling over the guard.
‘May I have some water?’ she asked, her voice rasping.
‘Sure.’
He brought over a glass. She struggled to sit up. As he put his arm behind her back to help her, she brought her free hand up and jabbed two fingers as hard as she could into his eyes. Her other hand grabbed the hair at the back of his head, pulling his face so close that she could smell the tobacco smoke on his collar. Then she bit down as hard as she could on his nose, taking off the fleshy tip and a strip of cartilage with her front teeth.
Too close to get a punch in at her, he flailed his arms. Quietly, deliberately, Mareta balled up a corner of blood-soaked sheet and forced it into his mouth to muffle the screams.
Sixty-seven
Lock snapped awake, surprised by two things. He was alive, and his cell door was wide open. He struggled to his feet and made it out into the corridor. Empty. No guards in sight.
He stood there for a moment, trying to orient himself. He’d had his best sleep in weeks, even if it was for only a couple of hours. The coppery taste was still in his mouth, but otherwise, beyond the usual aches and pains, he felt fine.
There was a click, and the cell door next to his opened. Like the external doors, it must have had some kind of remote override. A man stepped out, the man who’d been injected with the placebo intended for Lock. He blinked his eyes and reached out to pat Lock on the shoulder, as if physical contact would reassure him that this wasn’t a dream.
There was another click. Another cell door opened. Then another. And another. In under two minutes all the trial subjects had emerged. All of them looked well.
They gathered in small groups, some of them talking in urgent whispers. One of them crossed over to Lock, squaring up to him. Placebo guy stepped in between them, talked to the aggressor. He backed off.
The gate at the far end swung back on its hinges. Tentatively they started towards it.