Resurface Read online

  "It's reinforced crystal. You won't mark it," Tom said. "Save your energy."

  She glared at him, drew a deep breath, then exploded forward, this time leading with a heavy boot. Tom reflexively stepped back, aghast at the power in her motion. It was inhuman. Her boot connected with the glass door.

  There was a loud crack.

  Alex grunted and looked ready to launch herself again. The four men raised their weapons, calmly pointing at her.

  But then the gas started billowing into the room. Tom felt it take him. He saw Alex collapse to her knees.

  Everything went black.

  Sixty-One

  CARL BRODY, GENERAL MANAGER OF the Dome, sat in the cafeteria, inhaling strong black coffee. He'd had barely two hours of sleep. He was just about to tuck into a much-needed cooked breakfast when the message echoed over the tannoy. Gulping a few mouthfuls of food, he pushed his tray aside, picked up the coffee cup, and marched to the nearest bank of lifts. Eight levels down, he swiped his card and accessed the lab. There were no technicians inside – he'd given them a few well-deserved hours to sleep – but a display-screen indicator was flashing. He touched his thumb to the scanner and a face appeared, slightly grainy from compressed transmission. It was Fox.

  She smiled. "You've solved the transparency issue for the suits."

  Brody nodded. "I had the team working on the update all night." He gestured to a dummy standing near to him dressed in a bodysuit. "Seeing is believing." He tapped some keys on a computer and there was a hum of power transferring. "Or, in this case, not seeing." The suit seemed to ripple, shimmer, then vanish.

  "You're either manipulating the video feed," Fox said, "or that is seriously impressive. How is it done?"

  Brody reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing across the surface of a suit that his eyes told him was not there. He could make out a ghost of an outline. Then it too was gone. "Not quick to explain without getting into the science and a lot of diagrams. It does require a great deal of power. I have it running off the main generator, but if we want to make it mobile, then with a powerful battery we can get perhaps seven minutes of functionality. The exact time will depend on a number of variables."

  She nodded, not looking concerned. "What was the breakthrough?"

  "I'd like to claim credit, but the answer was sent to us, transferred to our servers. When I logged on yesterday morning, a new particle-interrelation protocol was ready for inclusion."

  "All that matters is that the breakthrough has been made. You've recoated one suit already. What's the schedule for the others?"

  "It's better than that. We can perform a wifi update and patch the suits' systems remotely. They're all designed to poll every hour."

  "Like a software upgrade?"

  "Exactly like that." Brody hit the computer key again and the suit reappeared. "We should have it ready later this morning."

  "Our boss will be delighted. And he'll be there to thank you in person very shortly."

  "Things are moving that fast?"

  "Expect us within twenty-four hours."

  "That's... We won't have time to make any special preparations."

  "Just focus on the work."

  The screen switched off. Brody stared at it for several long seconds. He'd been waiting for the notification for a very long time. Now the moment had finally come he would have to hurry to put the rest of the pieces of the plan into action. He had to hope it would all be completed in time. People were going to die, but it would be a pity if there were more deaths than was strictly necessary.

  Sixty-Two

  TOM AWOKE TO FIND HIMSELF still in the same cell. He was tied securely to one of the chairs. Alex was not in sight. Instead a man in a suit stood, hands in pockets, staring at him.

  "What's going on?" Tom asked. He looked around. Sharp's body had been removed.

  "I might ask you the same question, Mr Faraday," said the man. He was holding a tablet computer in his hand, idly scrolling through a document. "Where is Peter Marron?"

  "I know you." Tom frowned. "Croft, right? We met last year, on the roof of CERUS Tower."

  Croft shrugged. "A lot seems to have happened in a year. Did you kill the man we found here?"

  "He was dead when we arrived. He was here to kill Marron."

  "How would you know that?"

  "Because if he was here to conduct a rescue, Marron wouldn't have killed him. Look, why am I tied up?" He flexed against his restraints.

  "You did just break into a prison," replied Croft. "And William Bern escaped. What do you know about that?"

  "Less than I'd like to."

  "And yet here you are, clearly trying to free Peter Marron."

  "What would I do that for? You know he tried to kill me."

  "Why else would you be here?"

  "Because Marron had information we needed: Bern's location."

  "That sounds unlikely. And you're here with Marron's daughter. You can't tell me she wasn't here to rescue him."

  "Look at the CCTV footage. It will show Marron was gone when we got here."

  "The system was taken offline, presumably by you, since that is your talent. This doesn't look good for you, Mr Faraday."

  Tom ground his teeth. "We're on the same team here, Mr Croft, but I don't think you're seeing it."

  "Nothing that has happened would support that argument. You came here with Alex. You were working with her."

  "We were cooperating out of necessity. And, as I said, Marron knows Bern's location."

  Croft raised an eyebrow. "Is it possible his daughter told you that in order to elicit your help?"

  "Of course it's possible, but... Look, why don't you ask her?"

  "She's gone. Broke through her cell door, killed three of my men." Croft opened a small bag and reached inside. "Another example of why this ridiculous technology has to be controlled. How are you feeling, Tom? Any headaches?"

  Tom frowned. "Some, since you ask. Why would you care?" He froze. Croft had produced a syringe within which bubbled a liquid. A dark liquid.

  "I think I can help with that." Croft tapped the small instrument with his finger.

  "What are you doing?"

  Croft reached forward and pushed the needle into Tom's neck. This time the feeling of cold was overwhelming.

  "You?" whispered Tom. He felt his brain numbing, slowing down. "What have you done?"

  Croft's expression turned sad. "I'm sorry. It's not about you, really. It's about what you've become." He paused. "And it's about what they've promised me."

  "Who?" gasped Tom, as darkness gathered. "Who promised you what?"

  Croft placed the syringe back in the bag. "Don't try to fight it, Tom. You'd only be fighting yourself."

  Tom tried to reply, but ice lanced through his brain.

  Sixty-Three

  ALEX MOVED SWIFTLY AWAY FROM Northwell A. There was no sound of pursuit, but she took nothing for granted. She carried a single automatic rifle, taken from one of the guards. Escape had been easier than she had expected. They really had not been prepared for her: they had not predicted that she would kick her cell door from its hinges. They hadn't even had time to raise an alarm.

  She stopped on top of a rise near a cluster of trees and looked back at the prison, not because she needed rest, but because she needed to reassess. There was no way she could have rescued Tom. Most of the guards were watching him: more than twenty, all heavily armed. But they were not going to kill him, so she would wait until another opportunity presented to re-acquire him.

  There was the sound of a throat clearing behind her.

  Alex spun, poised and balanced, yet confused that anyone could have got so close to her. There was nobody in sight. Had she imagined the sound? She fell into a crouch, raising her weapon, wishing she had night-vision goggles at her disposal. All she could see was darkness and shadows. The voice came from her left.

  "I'd prefer it if you didn't shoot me."

  She twisted her weapon, finger on the trigger, ready
to fire, even as she felt the voice touch her heart. A figure seemed to step from the night.

  Her father.

  Alex threw her rifle down and embraced him, gripping him hard, saying nothing.

  He pushed her back. "You took your time."

  "There were things I needed to do first. I thought you were safe here. Not that you needed my help dealing with Sharp."

  "He wasn't as motivated as I was." Marron held her face in his hands. "And he made the mistake of telling me you were still alive. I've always known you were a survivor, but when I didn't hear anything for so long, even I had doubts."

  "It's a long story."

  "Did you manage to use the--"

  Her eyes sparked. "Yes. Oh yes."

  "And?"

  "They've made me... more than before, but different from Tom. Although even with my abilities, I struggled with that assassin. He had this special suit--"

  "I know." Marron tapped his chest. "I have it now. Quite a useful piece of kit. It's from CERUS's labs: part of a project they called Resurface."

  She reached out and ran her hand over the fabric. "How did he get it?"

  "An excellent question. I suspect the young Mr Leskov is the answer. We must remember to ask him for the details."

  "We're going after Leskov?"

  Marron smiled. "We're going after everyone."

  She looked back at the prison. "What about Tom? He's being held in there."

  "He is an acceptable loss."

  "With his abilities he could be an asset."

  "But why would he use them to help us?"

  "He thinks there's nobody he can trust anymore. We could show him that he's wrong."

  Marron sighed. "You feel some sense of kinship with him, but it's just in your head. We have to return to our plan. We have to go to the beta site and find Bern."

  "You know he escaped?"

  "I was questioned about it. They wanted to know if I knew anything. There are actually rumours that he's dead, killed in an altercation at sea. But, as we well know, with Bern it's best not to believe anything until you see it with your own eyes. And maybe not even then."

  "And what will we do when we find Bern?"

  "I'm going to let him explain why he threw me to the wolves."

  Sixty-Four

  TRUMAN'S VTOL AIRCRAFT SWEPT IN to land in the field by Northwell A. An MI5 agent stood at attention, waiting next to a metallic black Range Rover.

  "Where is Agent Croft?" shouted Reems above the sound of the decelerating rotors.

  "He's on site, questioning Faraday."

  "What about Marron?" Truman asked, stepping from the aircraft. "And his daughter?"

  The agent's expression grew stiff. "Marron escaped before my team arrived. His daughter... She surprised us."

  "By being alive?" Reems asked.

  "No. You should see the video footage. I've never seen anything like it."

  "What about the dead man?" Truman asked. "The one found in Marron's cell?"

  "We've no ID as yet."

  "Sent to free Marron or to kill him?" Truman asked.

  "Either way we figure Marron wasn't happy about it. The man's neck was broken."

  They reached the car and the agent pulled open the rear door.

  "It's been quite a night here," Reems said. "I want additional resources called in."

  The agent was about to answer when, behind him, the world exploded.

  Lentz drove her 2CV at somewhat over its safe maximum speed. The engine, suspension and tyres all wailed in protest as she pushed on through the night, heading for the prison.

  After discovering the device plugged into her computer, she knew someone other than the assassin had infiltrated her house and defeated the security. It was no simple task and would mean spying on her both at the office and at home. Her first thought was that it could only be Reems, but MI5 would not have hired a resource like Sharp: his story about Leskov was probably true. She tried to get hold of Reems but couldn't reach her. Lentz muttered, noting she had several messages from Kate. They would have to wait. A flag in her newsfeed had mentioned a murder in London. Lentz had gasped when she saw the victim was Kate's former boss at Business Week News. Whatever else was going on, Tom needed to be warned. Thankfully, Northwell A was only an hour's drive away and she was now fifty-eight minutes into that hour.

  She was perhaps two kilometres away from Northwell A, when she saw the explosion.

  Then she felt it.

  Reems stood, looking at where the prison had been. A giant fireball was rising into the night sky, lighting up the countryside around them like midday. She felt the searing heat stinging her face, but somehow she couldn't avert her eyes.

  Truman stood beside her, similarly transfixed. "What the hell was that? Last ditch security measure?"

  "It wasn't us." She turned to the agent. "Any word from the site?"

  He shook his head. "Nothing yet, but I'm getting orders to move you away from the scene."

  "The hell I will. I'm staying to assess the situation."

  "I'm sorry, Ma'am, but I have protocol to follow and emergency services are inbound. You'll only get in their way."

  Her phone rang and she answered it on reflex.

  "Stephanie, what just happened?" said Dominique Lentz. "I saw the explosion."

  Reems frowned. "How could you possibly--?"

  "I was on my way to find Tom. Was he inside?"

  Reems froze. "How could you know that Tom was here?"

  "Answer the damn question."

  "We don't know. I thought you had no idea where he was?"

  "And I guess you wouldn't know anything about the bomb. Just like you knew nothing about Bern's release from prison."

  "Tread carefully, Dominique. Very carefully."

  "Was Tom in there or not?"

  Reems paused. "He might have been. Along with a lot of my team. I've got a situation to manage here. I'm ordering you to go home. Report to my office in the morning. We'll talk then. At length." Reems clicked the phone off. The field agent was looking at her with a serious expression.

  "Ma'am, I've just heard by radio from Agent Croft's second in command. Croft discovered an explosive device in the cell where they were holding Faraday. He ordered everyone to evacuate." The field agent hesitated. "The device was connected to the door of the cell. Both he and Faraday were inside. He said he was going to attempt to disarm it."

  "He didn't call for the bomb squad?"

  The field agent looked pale. "Perhaps he had reason to believe there was no time."

  "So he didn't get out?"

  "His team were speaking on the radio right up until..." He hung his head. "I don't believe so."

  Reems closed her eyes and shook her head. "Thank you for notifying me." Then she turned away and stared back at the red glow of the aftermath, the sound of emergency sirens rising in the night.

  Sixty-Five

  LENTZ DROVE BACK TO HER home without stopping, the image of the fire burning in her mind. She could not believe that Tom had been inside the prison. Not because of any piece of actual evidence, but because, after everything that he had been through, for him to die so pointlessly seemed impossible.

  As soon as she got home, she would use her computer to force a message through. She wasn't supposed to contact him unless he had contacted her first, but right now she didn't care.

  Lentz parked in front of her house, quickly checking the security system. It reported that she was alone. She ran down to the underground workshop, not even pausing to make coffee. Within two minutes she was logged on, through several layers of security, and placing the call. She sent the system ping and waited.

  There was no reply.

  Hands shaking, she checked her settings. Everything was connected. Everything should work. She re-booted the program and re-sent the system ping.

  Still no reply.

  A trickle of sweat beaded on her forehead. Then something clicked. She looked again at the screen. The call was partially connected,
though no comms had been transmitted. And it couldn't connect if nothing was there to receive it. That meant he was alive. He might be unconscious or in a deep sleep or even just ignoring it to avoid using his abilities. Maybe the dark nano had taken more of a hold on him. Maybe he had got out, but his Interface was damaged. She couldn't locate him from this system, but at least she knew he was alive.

  So where was he?

  Lentz fell back onto her sofa and put her head in her hands. Who had decided to plant the bomb and why? To kill Marron or Tom? Would Sharp or someone else be visiting her again shortly? She looked again at her weapons cupboard and wondered if it would be enough. Almost certainly not against a suitably motivated opponent.

  There was a loud knock at her front door.

  Could it be Tom? If he ran anywhere, he might run here. She was about to sprint up the stairs when she caught herself. When she spoke to Reems no mention had been made of Alex. Could it be her? Or the assassin, Sharp? But why would they knock? Lentz glanced at her security system; it had tagged a single figure who had walked straight up to the house and knocked on the door. She leaned closer.

  It was Kate.

  Lentz started to move towards the door, then hesitated as a thought struck her. There was only one other person who had been in her underground workshop, and she was waiting outside the house. Could Kate really be the one who had planted the bug?

  Lentz swore. She just didn't know anymore: she didn't feel she could trust anyone. She grabbed her taser and a rifle; not a good weapon at close quarters, but it looked menacing.

  Then she climbed the stairs.

  Sixty-Six

  THE BATTERED VAN HAD TURNED off the M5 motorway more than an hour back and was navigating its way assuredly northwest, toward the North Devon Atlantic coast. Scratched paintwork and a grime-laden windscreen suggested a vehicle that had not seen much love, but its engine belied that, purring smoothly as it covered the miles. Eventually the van turned down an unmarked side road, bouncing awkwardly on the unsealed surface until it reached its destination: a small cove. Steep cliffs rose on either side of the little rocky beach. A powerful motorboat was pulled up, outboard motor raised. Two men stood next to it, wearing military garb. The side door of the van opened and George Croft climbed out. His gaze swept the beach, then swung to the two men. "Everything in order?"