Johnny Mackintosh and the Spirit of London (45 page)

“But what alien DNA?” Johnny asked. “There isn't anything.”

“Exactly. You have gaps,” Bobbi said.

Johnny looked to the doctor for an explanation.

“We can only test for human—for terrestrial base pairs. The gaps must come from something else. Yes … something non-terrestrial. Not from this world, Jonathan.”

“Oh,” was all Johnny said. Of course he'd met aliens—could they have contaminated him? Yet even before, when he'd taken the test himself, he'd still had the gaps. Had the krun been experimenting on him in the past, like those poor people he'd seen in the tanks? That could be it—it would explain why they
were so interested in him now. His father had probably found out, which was why he'd been taken.

“Very convincing, little Mr. Surprised,” said Bobbi. “It's time to get down to business. Where do your people really come from? How many of you are there here?”

Back inside the cage, Clara spluttered, as though about to wake up. The doctor moved quickly across toward her. Johnny turned his head to watch as Dr. Carrington placed his pneumatic syringe on her exposed neck and air hissed out. For a second, Johnny thought he saw a look of surprise in Clara's eyes as she lifted her head, but then she fell back onto the stretcher, sound asleep.

“What are you doing, Carrington?” asked the woman. “I need to question her.”

“Too much of a risk having them both conscious at once. A risk, yes.”

“Hmmm. I suppose you're right. Next time ask before you act. I'm the one in charge here.”

“Sorry ma'am,” said the doctor, looking back down at his hands. “Won't happen again, no … sorry.”

“Make sure it doesn't,” said the woman, before turning back to Johnny. “We've been monitoring you for some time. Then our unlikely informant arrived and forced our hand. One way or another, we will find out more. You know our races could cooperate. I am authorized to propose a deal.”

“What kind of a deal?” Johnny asked.

“Your life … your lives,” she said looking beyond Johnny to Clara, “in exchange for information. Where you're from, how many there are of you. I want your ship, of course, and all your technology.”

“I don't have a ship,” Johnny replied, desperately concentrating on his face not turning red.

“If that's really true I don't give much for your chances. I'd
say it's the dissection table for you, or perhaps her,” said Bobbi, smiling across to Clara again. “Just like your associate … Chancellor Gronack.”

“You wouldn't,” said Johnny. “You can't,” he shouted, struggling against the straps holding him down.

“I can and, believe me, I will,” said the woman. “But I am not ungenerous. I'll give you the night to think about it. And before you get any ideas, we analyzed your communications device.” She walked back to the table and held up two wristcoms that must have been taken from Johnny and Clara. “We've calibrated a special field around this building to ensure they are inoperative. Carrington,” she said, turning to the doctor. “I think about eight hours should do it. Would you mind?”

“Eight hours, yes of course, eight.”

“And then you should lock him in the cage—just to be sure.”

Doctor Carrington walked over and placed the syringe against Johnny's neck. There was a hiss. Johnny fought to stay awake, but it felt as though he was disappearing under water. The gleaming silver of the cage bars began to fuzz together as he was wheeled through them and came to rest. Dr. Carrington was fiddling with Johnny's right arm. As a reflex Johnny tried to move it away and almost did before the doctor grabbed it. The straps had been undone. For a moment it felt like breaking the surface of the water back to consciousness. He stared, wide eyed, but Dr. Carrington shook his head slightly and slipped something into Johnny's pocket. Then he felt himself going under again, drowning in darkness. The last thing he heard was the door to the cage clanking shut.

It was freezing cold and very uncomfortable. Johnny tried to focus in the faint red glow of the emergency lighting. The outlines of metal bars reminded him where he was. The even
sound of breathing beside him suggested Clara was asleep. He tried to sit up—the straps were still holding him, but much tighter on his left side than his right. And when he lifted his right arm the bonds slid smoothly away. He was free. He sat up, undid the straps on his left arm and rubbed both his wrists. Then he turned his attention to the restraints on his legs. Once they were removed, he slid off the stretcher as quietly as he could and onto the floor.

“Clara, wake up,” Johnny hissed in her ear. There was no reaction—her steady breathing continued exactly as before. He tried again, tapping her lightly on the cheek, but still nothing happened so he got to work on undoing the straps that were fixing her onto the stretcher. Once she was free he tried lifting her up, but she simply flopped back down as she was before. With Clara sedated, getting out of wherever they were would be a lot more difficult. He looked around the room. By now his eyes were used to the dim red light. Johnny walked over to the corner of the cage and put his hands onto the bars of the door. It swung smoothly open as he touched it, with Johnny almost falling forward in surprise. It couldn't have been locked properly when Dr. Carrington and that Bobbi woman had left.

He walked silently across the room to the table and picked up one of the wristcoms. Raising it to his mouth he whispered “Sol,” but before he could say anything else he clutched the side of his face due to an ear-splitting whistling. He wasn't going to try that again in a hurry, but he strapped the device to his wrist anyway, and slipped the other one into his pocket.

Also on the table were a couple of half-drunk cups of what smelled like coffee, the printouts of the DNA tests, Johnny's games console and a file marked “TOP SECRET—HIGHLY CONFIDENTIAL.” He opened it up—there were pages headed with the names of several radio telescopes, each with times and dates on them, and maps, with circular areas shaded,
a few showing the part of southern England that contained Castle Dudbury, some of Canada and other places too. There were also names and photographs of people—David Barnes, Jonas Faltskog and others—none of whom he recognized—except he did find one picture of him walking Bentley in the park.

Another page had portions of the script he'd written to track the telescopes, with annotations in different-colored ink. After a few moments Johnny stopped reading the comments about his programming style and put the file down. He was wasting time—this wasn't telling him anything he needed now. He picked up the games console and was about to pocket it when he had a thought. He turned it on, switched it over to his old mobile phone mode and waited while it searched for a network signal. Coughing from outside the door distracted him. Johnny froze, holding his breath and staring at the door. It didn't open. He exhaled and looked down at the handheld. He had just one bar. Again looking nervously over to the door, Johnny held the device up to his mouth and whispered “Kovac—are you there?”

“I might as well not be for all the attention I get,” came an irritated reply.

“Kovac—can you triangulate my position? I think I'm in America.”

“I see—yes I suppose you are aren't you?”

“What does that mean? Where am I exactly?”

“You're in Grosvenor Square, in what I believe is termed London's West end.”

“But you said I was in America.”

“You appear to be inside the American Embassy. Technically it is part of the United States of America.”

“Oh …” said Johnny. “Look—we need help. Can you contact Sol—tell her where I am? We need rescuing.”

“Pass on a message. You need rescuing.”

“Yes, but hurry. It's really important,” said Johnny, looking anxiously across at the door which could open at any moment.

“I'm in the middle of determining the amount of dark energy in the universe to deduce if it will collapse or expand forever. But you want me to stop to pass on a message.”

“Kovac,” hissed Johnny. “The universe will still be here tomorrow. We might not be.”

“If that organic energy-matrix supercomputer is so clever, why do you need me to tell it what to do?”

“Kovac—just do it will you? Get Sol to send Alf in one of the shuttles.”

“Very well—it's done,” said Kovac, huffily. “But she doesn't like me and I have to say the feeling is most definitely reciprocated.”

“Thank you,” said Johnny. He turned away from the table and slipped the console inside his tunic. Oddly, something else was already in there. Johnny pulled it out—it looked like a little map. He unfolded it to reveal the floorplan of an immense building, titled 24–32 Grosvenor Square. Various features had been marked using a highlighting pen. There was writing coming through from the other side of the paper. Johnny turned it over, spread it out on the table and began to read.

Dear Jonathan

I have just heard that you and your sister have been captured together and taken to the US embassy in Grosvenor Square. Do not be fooled. There is nothing “official” about the organization holding you. You are where you are because it is convenient, away from prying eyes and these people are extremely well connected. I do not know what they intend to do with you, but they are not bound by the normal rule of law and it is unlikely to be pleasant. I have been summoned to perform some tests on you.

On this plan I have marked the area of the embassy where they are likely to detain you, as well as a route out of the building should that be necessary. Having witnessed your sister's escape from me at the Proteus Institute, I suspect you can simply disappear to where you need to go—a hitherto unforeseen development.

You must believe me that in most difficult circumstances I have always sought to do my best for you and your family. When I discovered your mother's pregnancy while in her comatose state, I was able to deliver Clara successfully and persuaded the krun she required a human upbringing. I have tried to keep you both alive and safe from those who would use you. I worked tirelessly at the Proteus Institute to prevent experiments on your sister and monitor and guide her progress. The group that has captured you are particularly dangerous. I believe the destiny of humankind may be in your hands and you would fulfill that better away from them.

Your friend

Peter Carrington

Stunned, Johnny picked up the plans and went over to try to wake Clara again. He shook her several times but, despite a few groans there was no sign of consciousness. According to his wristcom it was 2:55 in the morning. Johnny spread the plan out on his vacated stretcher and tried to get his bearings. A room marked “holding area,” on the third floor was highlighted. Its shape matched the one he was in. Johnny noticed that toward the end of the corridor was another marked “operating theater” and he shuddered, but tried to put that out of his mind. A route labeled “AC” was marked leading away from the corner
of the holding area opposite the door. On the plans it looked as though it would eventually take them beyond the main building, into a little park outside. But there was no door to be seen, just a blank wall. And it was uncomfortable standing there as he was smack underneath a vent, blasting him with cold air. Johnny placed his hand on the wall at what he was sure was the right spot, but nothing happened. He looked upward so his face felt the full effect of the air conditioning and wondered if there was any way he could turn it off. And then he realized that
was
their escape route. Remove the grille and the pipes would carry him and Clara all the way out of the building. Even better, they were so wide that if he collapsed the legs on Clara's stretcher he'd be able to push her along in front of him. He grabbed a chair from beside the table, placed it underneath the vent and started work on the screws. The freezing cold air numbed his fingers, but nothing was going to stop him and, once he'd pried the first one out, the other three followed easily. Johnny removed the grille covering the broad vent and pushed it inside. If he could he'd replace it behind them once they were through.

He ran over to the cage, rubbing his hands together to warm them up again, and wheeled Clara's stretcher so it was under the vent. The hard part would be lifting her up, but he'd had enough practice carrying her before in the much stronger gravity of Melania and he knew he could do it.

But something about sneaking away wasn't right. Johnny might find the Chancellor annoying but he didn't want it dissected. It was Gronack's fault they were all being held prisoner, but he knew he couldn't leave it behind. First he had to try to rescue the Chancellor and then they could all escape together.

Johnny wheeled Clara over to the table. He took the top secret file and placed it underneath her trolley, and then he
pushed his sister to the far corner of the room. There was a keypad beside the big metal door and Johnny placed his hand over it. He was getting better at this and could feel the combination. Silently he unlocked the door, opened it just a fraction and froze—there was a soldier sitting in a chair facing the doorway. The man didn't move. For a few seconds Johnny stood with the door ajar watching the regular rise and fall of the man's chest and decided he was asleep. So Johnny opened the door fully—it creaked loudly but the marine didn't react. Very quietly Johnny wheeled Clara's trolley past the slumped soldier before going back to close the door. Every noise he made, his footsteps, breathing and heartbeat, seemed to be magnified in the cavernous corridor, wider than Barnard Way, and when the door creaked shut he was sure the soldier would wake. But the man just coughed again in his sleep before repositioning himself and Johnny tiptoed back to Clara's stretcher.