The Whisper of Stars (13 page)

They sat, Mac smiling patiently. Jen wasn’t sure where to start.

‘Some of this is going to sound crazy,’ she blurted. ‘I just wanted you to know that. Okay?’

Mac collapsed back into his favourite leather chair. ‘Just tell me what’s wrong.’

Jen frowned. ‘What happened to Peter?’

‘We don’t know,’ he replied, a sadness coming over him. ‘Literally no sign of him since last week.’

Jen took a moment to gather her thoughts. ‘I saw him. The day before he went missing. We talked.’

‘Go on.’

‘He was scared.’

‘Of what?’

‘That’s the thing, Mac. If I tell you, I could be putting you in danger.’ The words echoed, returning from the past. ‘Jesus.’

‘What is it?’

‘That’s what
Peter
said to me. Before he went missing.’

‘So, let me get this straight.’ Mac smiled. ‘You’re worried about putting
me
in danger…’

Jen didn’t smile back.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘But Jen, it’s
me
you’re talking to.’

He had a point. Jim McArthur had been in enough scrapes, had enough threats and risked his life enough times. He was well acquainted with danger.

‘You said you talked to Callaghan.’

Jen took a deep breath and told him, ‘He thinks minds are being searched during Hibernation.’ It was a relief to be finally saying the words. ‘He found traces, “search echoes” he called them, then he ran tests.’

‘Search
echoes
?’ Mac asked, frowning.

‘I have them too.’ Her eyes met his. ‘And that’s when he uncovered something else, a memory, hidden away, even from me.’ She pulled the metal box from her rucksack and opened the lid. ‘It led me to this.’

They both stared at the Histeridae, resting on dark velvet. On first glance it was a simple, pebble-like object, glossy and circular in shape. But swirling in very centre was what looked like a piece of red silk dancing slowly. Jen had agonised all night about this moment, but Mac was the only person left she could trust.

‘Does it always…’ Mac trailed off, searching for the right words.

‘Yes. It’s always moving like that.’

‘What is it?’ Mac asked.

‘I think it’s called a Histeridae. My father wanted to hide it, even from me.’

She thought about the words leaving her mouth. He had
hidden
it from her; he had been scared that night, his pallid face burnt into her brain.

‘A secret? Why?’ Mac sat up in his chair. ‘What does it do?’

Jen watched, almost voyeuristic as her hand drifted towards the Histeridae’s surface. From the moment she’d found it she’d wanted to touch it, but hadn’t felt safe. Now Mac was with her. This was the right time.

‘Be careful,’ Mac said sharply. ‘Should you really touch it?’

She could feel its energy pulling at her fingers as they moved nearer. It reminded her of being close to a waterfall, the ions in the air charged and excitable.

‘Jen!’ Mac shouted.

But it was too late, her fingers touched the glassy surface, and she felt something similar to the charge of energy all those years ago. Every inch of her skin shimmered, as if her blood had cooled and then heated again, as if all her tiny hairs were lifted in a warm breeze. She was calm, the room suddenly brighter, colours more saturated and vibrant. She looked down at her hand and tried to lift it away, but it felt as though her fingers were glued. She tried again, eventually plucking them free. The room slowly returned to a more natural colour. She sat quietly for a while, adjusting, trying to understand what had just happened. In real time, the moment of connection had lasted a second or two; for Jen, it had felt more like a minute.

‘Did you feel anything?’ Mac asked carefully.

Jen turned to face him. A trace of the rich saturated colour remained around the edges of his body, gently flickering. She had heard the word ‘aura’ before, now she was seeing one, crystal-like and yet oily. She became acutely aware of her body, as if it were separate and floating. A new feeling permeated through her, a strange understanding. It was as if her mind had roots and they were traveling, searching for sustenance. Time seemed to slow again.

Mac’s face was moving but he was sluggish, his voice deep and flabby. She saw ghostlike strands stretching across the room like reeds pulled by the tide, luminescent tendrils with a life of their own. They latched onto Jim McArthur and the connection was tangible. Jen could actually
feel
it; a kind of bonding, an organic linking of space, time, earth and blood. She could see him, but also see herself. It was a unique sensation of union, as profound as it was powerful. The tears finally came, but they didn’t arrive in isolation. She could hear Jim McArthur’s thoughts, flowing through her, clearly separated but as strong as her own.

Mac looked at her with concern.

{The Histeridae – finally,}
Mac told her without moving his mouth.

The two of them sat staring at each other.

‘Jen?’ Mac asked, worry spreading over his face. ‘What is it?’

{I need to keep her trust.}

They were his thoughts, burning in her mind. Then a silence that seemed to last forever. Mac swallowed, frowned and without his knowledge revealed more.

{She had it all this time. All these years…}

‘I didn’t have it Mac,’ Jen responded instinctively, her voice wavering. ‘I didn’t even know it existed!’

Mac looked confused, his mouth agape.

{What the fuck?}

‘That’s right,’ she barked at him. ‘I can hear you. I know what you’re thinking…’

In a poisonous rush of energy, his darkest secrets flooded through her. Multiple threads, thoughts and memories, like an ocean threatening to drown her. She stopped trying to understand, she didn’t need to, she’d heard enough.

‘You haven’t been watching over me, Mac,’ Jen hissed. ‘You’ve been waiting.’

That realisation spread, the truth piercing her heart. Was there anyone in this world she could trust?

‘Jen, wait. It’s not as simple as all that,’ he begged.

She grabbed the Histeridae, pushed it into her rucksack and stood.

‘I trusted you, Mac,’ she said, baring her teeth. ‘And there’s nothing you can say. I know what you’ve done. I can
feel
it.’

Mac stood, his hands defensive, the colour drained from his face.

‘It was an assignment,’ he said, voice breaking. ‘But Jen, you need to believe me. I do care about you.’

His inner thoughts followed those words. And the two didn’t match.

{Your father stole it, Jen
.
They want it back. It’s a dangerous weapon. You don’t know what it can do.}

Then another thought, mixed up in multiple meaning but perhaps the most common in the heads of men.

{Money.}

His betrayal was complete. Jim McArthur had been assigned to her from the start. His mission: Become her confidant, and when she finally revealed the location of the Histeridae, bring her in. Jen also sensed pain and regret. Random fragments. Not enough to make it right.
 

‘It’s too late for regrets, Mac,’ she said coldly. ‘I
know
what you’ve done.’

The sound of car doors slamming on the driveway meant his family would be through the door any second. They would bring the excitement of Christmas crashing into this terrible moment.

‘Please, Jen. You’re in danger.’ He reached towards her. ‘Give me the Histeridae.’

She recoiled.

{Zitagi won’t take no for an answer.}

Jen felt as through the floor dropped an inch.
 

So, there it was – the link – he was with
Zitagi
. Her anger and sadness welled up and then boiled over as Mac reached towards her again. Suddenly, he was thrown violently backward, thrust back into his seat, his surprised expression that of a child deliberately tripped in a playground.

They looked at each other, unsure of what had just happened. Jen realised it was
her
;
she
had
willed
it to happen. The thought to push him away had been enough. She stumbled back, scared.

‘Jen, don’t,’ Mac pleaded. ‘You won’t make it alone.’

‘I’ve been alone my whole life.’ The words cut her heart as they left her. ‘Good-bye, Jim, give my regards to Zitagi.’

She ran from the house, tears streaming down her face, ignoring the cries of Mac’s wife standing on the driveway. Jen’s tears weren’t just sadness, they were necessary and desperate. Jim McArthur’s betrayal gripped her tightly, threatening to crush her whole. If she was going to survive, she needed to purge herself of those feelings.

She jumped on her bike and sped away, trying to escape the hurt, to somehow outrun his treachery. She had no idea where she was going or what to do next. Peter Callaghan had been right after all: they
wer
e scanning minds. She thought of Peter, his nervousness, how scared he would be. Her tears stopped and she focused. It was a huge risk, but before she could do anything else she needed to go back to her apartment, grab her gear and get off the grid. She needed to disappear.

Another thought crossed her mind.

The Histeridae.

If Jim McArthur thinks it’s a weapon, then I need to learn how to use it, and fast.

Chapter 25

It was midafternoon by the time Jen reached her apartment. She waited outside the door for a few seconds and listened. Nothing. Simon was away in Scotland for most of the Christmas break. She pulled her handgun and entered carefully, covering the angles, checking her corners.

She needed to get her kit and get out of there.

Her footsteps were silent as she crossed the hallway floor. She hadn’t used her implant since leaving Brook Mill, knowing it would reveal her location. It wasn’t worth the risk. The apartment was open plan. To her right, the stairs led from the lounge to the mezzanine landing with access to both bedrooms, the bathroom and storage. There was also a small desk that Simon affectionately called his study.

She jogged up the stairs and into her bedroom, pressing a small keypad on the wall and ducking as a small loft hatch clicked open. Inside was a bag reserved for emergencies, something she never expected to need. Weapons, cash and clothes. She climbed the ladder, grabbed the hold-all and threw it over her shoulder.

A sound bought her to a dead stop, movement downstairs, people in the apartment. She slid out and onto the landing, crouching against the paneled balcony, her heart banging.

‘Officer Logan,’ a voice shouted from below. ‘Don’t be stupid.’

At least two, maybe three. Stupid coming back.

Jen needed to know what she was up against. She switched her Baden device on, scanning the room. Her active retinal picked up three identifiers – classified UN signatures, probably MI5. Then, in the corner of her eye, another.

What the hell?

There was a man inside her kitchen, pressed up against the door. His details appeared. David Shaw. Clean record. Non–UN Citizen, travel Visa.

Who the hell is David Shaw, and what the fuck is he doing in my kitchen?

She switched her augmentation off and pulled a white grenade from her hold-all. She flicked the pin and watched as four tiny lights blinked out.

Three.

Two.

Jen tossed it over the balcony. The men saw it roll on the ground and braced for an explosion that never came. She pinched her eyes shut, an intense flash revealing thin red veins across her eyelids. The grenade was a pulse generator, military issue and banned for use outside sanctioned war zones. It created a huge power surge and a brilliant light, rendering all active technology useless. Mind links, scanners, thermal imagers, retinals – anything unprotected would be fried. There was also the added benefit of temporary blindness and concussion for anyone within range.

Jen popped her head over the balcony and saw three men out cold. Her vision danced red and gold, bouncing blobs of colour fighting for the centre spot. She slipped down the stairs, blinking and shaking her head. The effects of the grenade wouldn’t last long. She needed to get out of there, quickly, but first she needed to identify her random visitor.

As she approached the kitchen door she could see a faint aura, like flickering oil emanating from the doorway. The Histeridae’s effects were still active and she could feel that creeping sense again, as if her mind were reaching out and searching. It was a lot weaker than at Mac’s. She guessed the power faded over time and wondered if the power would return if she touched it again.

Her experience with Mac had been unpleasant and invasive, but the knowledge – Mac wasn’t to be trusted – had been invaluable. Hearing and feeling the inner workings of a mind wasn’t natural; it felt wrong, especially when it was someone you cared about. She decided against the Histeridae. She would do this the old-fashioned way.

‘Mr Shaw,’ she said loudly. ‘Step out with your hands raised.’

She repeated it, adding a final warning. The handle turned and the man walked forward, hands raised.

‘Don’t shoot,’ he pleaded, looking around at the three men lying on the floor, his arms shaking. ‘Jesus. Who are they?’

‘Never mind them, what are
you
doing here?’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, lowering his arms, ‘for breaking in.’

Jen hiked her eyebrows and flicked her gun. The man’s arms shot back up. He was either a very polite burglar or an unusually well-spoken Government agent. She wasn’t in the mood for bumbling apologies.

‘I asked you what you were doing here.’

‘My name is David Shaw,’ he replied. ‘And I’m investigating a murder.’

‘And what does that have to do with me?’ Jen asked through gritted teeth.

‘Honestly, I don’t know, but you’re somehow linked to…’ He squinted and shook his head. ‘I’m here about Project Histeridae. Does that mean anything to you?’

Jen stepped back. How could this man know anything about the Histeridae? Project Histeridae? Her mind was racing, but there was no time to think. Mr Random had managed to break into her apartment, so he was skilled – but there was something strange about him, an innocence that didn’t match his appearance. He was well built, looked tough but was shaking, scared and out of his depth. There were a lot of questions, but one thing she
was
sure of: he wasn’t connected to the team of men scattered on the floor around them.