Where on earth was I?
I looked round the room again. Someone had laid a blue towel and a change of clothes on the chair next to the bed. The clock on the wall said it was seven a.m. There was a white wooden wardrobe – empty – and an open door in the corner leading into a small shower room.
The other door was shut. I walked over and pulled on the handle. Locked.
Despite the radiator below the window belting heat into the room, I shivered. I went back to the bed. A blue blanket had been folded up at the end of it. I wrapped this round me and sat down, my mind running over the possibilities.
Provided I hadn’t somehow lost an entire day, there was no way I could have travelled all the way to the southern hemisphere since leaving Scotland, which meant that I must have come north. A long way north, like maybe somewhere in Scandinavia? That would explain why the sun was so high in the sky, even though it was only seven a.m.
After a few minutes, I heard a key turn in the lock of my door. Elijah came in. He looked tired but was neatly dressed, as usual, in what looked like a very expensive suit.
‘Good, you’re awake,’ he said.
‘Where am I?’ I said.
Ignoring this, he indicated the shower room and the clothes on the chair.
‘Wash and change. I’ll be back in ten minutes.’ He left.
I did as he said. To be honest, despite the anxiety gnawing away at my guts, it felt good to feel the powerful jets of warm water on my back. I hadn’t had a proper wash since nearly drowning on Calla. The little shower room had been set out with a range of bottles. I couldn’t read most of the labels – they were in a foreign language – but it was easy enough to work out which was shampoo, and I scrubbed at my hair til it squeaked.
The clothes were nothing special: a long-sleeved top which was too old for me, and some leggings and warm boots.
Elijah returned, as promised, when the ten minutes were up. He ushered me through the door without speaking. My room was at the end of a corridor. Two doors led off on either side.
‘Other bedrooms and a bathroom,’ Elijah said, when I asked what they were.
The house we were in was a sort of chalet. Bare and minimalist, the furniture was almost all made of wood, as were the floors and stairs. These led down to an open-plan living/dining area with a TV and two sofas at one end, a wooden table set against the window and a galley kitchen beyond. Milo was at the hob, bent over a frying pan. He was wearing a black beanie hat that made him look younger, even more like Theo than usual.
The smell of bacon wafted towards us.
I suddenly realised how hungry I was. I hadn’t eaten since I’d been in the café with Lewis and Theo. That seemed a million years ago now.
As Elijah and I walked over to the table, Milo glanced nervously at Elijah.
‘I’m cooking pancakes and bacon and there’s maple syrup too,’ he said.
‘Where’s my coffee?’ Elijah demanded.
‘Just coming.’ Milo shot a swift smile at me and wheeled himself back to the kitchen.
We sat down at the table. I was still struggling to take everything in.
‘Where are we?’ I asked.
Elijah sat back in his chair and sighed. ‘Okay, Rachel, some answers. But first, here are the things you should know. The nearest village is over a mile away, with very limited transport facilities and the temperature outside is sub-zero, so please do not think about attempting to leave. I do not intend to keep locking you in your room and you are free to walk around the house and the grounds, though please be careful of the electric fence. It will knock you out if you touch it. We left John behind in Scotland, of course, but Paul is still with us to provide security. He is resting upstairs in one of the bedrooms right now, but he will be patrolling the grounds at night. Milo has the chalet maid’s room.’ Elijah pointed to a door next to the kitchen area.
‘So where’s your clinic . . . your lab?’ I said. ‘Where do you work?’
‘Nearby,’ Elijah said, with a vague wave of his hand.
I looked down at the smooth wood of the table. ‘You said you’d give me answers and you’re not,’ I said, anger mounting inside me. I’d agreed to Elijah’s stupid deal but he wasn’t even prepared to give me the most basic bits of information. ‘I asked where we were.’
‘I am giving you answers – to the questions that are important right now.’ Elijah sighed again as Milo trundled over with a cup of black coffee.
He waited till Milo set the cup down on the table and turned away then spoke again, a note of irritation in his voice. ‘Clearly, Rachel, we are not in the UK any more. But it doesn’t matter exactly where we are. In fact, it’s better that you don’t know. What’s important is that you don’t think about running off. Not just because of the consequences to Theo, but because you won’t get very far.’
‘So what are you going to do with me?’ I said, trying to control my temper. There was no point losing it with Elijah. ‘You said these tests wouldn’t take long, but I don’t understand what it is you’re trying to do . . .’
‘Okay.’ Elijah took a swig of coffee. ‘I already told you that my cloning experiment was an attempt to recreate the Eos protein in your blood, but that none of the clones I created contained it.’
‘And this Eos protein supposedly saves lives?’ I said.
‘It does save lives,’ Elijah said. ‘At least, it will.’
‘How?’ I said.
‘Okay.’ Elijah cleared his throat. ‘The Eos protein mimics the actions of a set of known proteins called sirtuins.’
‘Sir . . . what?’
‘Sirtuins. We already know that these are activated by the chemical resveratrol, but . . . anyway . . . the Eos protein is far more powerful than these sirtuins. My early research suggests that Eos has the potential to strengthen the body’s resistance to the degenerative diseases of ageing.’
‘Will it protect me from ageing?’ I asked.
‘No, you’re just a carrier, but if I can extract it from your blood successfully then the scientific benefits will be enormous.’
And the financial rewards. I thought this, but didn’t say it.
I kept my gaze on Elijah. It suddenly crossed my mind just how was weird it was that his face would be Theo’s face when Theo was much, much older. Elijah ran his hand through his hair. The same gesture I’d so often seen Theo make.
‘I’ve told you everything I know, Rachel,’ he said earnestly. ‘I will perform my tests. You will be safe. No one will suffer. And the world will benefit beyond anyone’s wildest dreams.’
He was lying. I couldn’t be sure exactly which part of what he said was the lie but I was sure there something else . . . some catch he wasn’t about to reveal.
I sat back. ‘I still don’t see why you need me here,’ I said. ‘I mean, you took loads of my blood back on Calla. You could easily have brought that with you and done more tests on it.’
‘I need fresh blood,’ Elijah explained. ‘The Eos protein in your blood is one of the most unstable materials I’ve ever worked with. Once I’ve taken it from you, it’s only potent . . . viable . . . for about two hours. After that, the protein mutates . . . stops working in the same way. I need a regular supply of fresh blood in order to give myself time to work out how to synthesise . . . copy . . . the protein.’
I stared at him. ‘So you’re going to keep taking blood from me?’
‘Yes, just a few drops at a time.’ Elijah produced a small box from which he drew a little disc with a pin attached. ‘This is an easy, pain-free way of doing just that. Diabetics use these all the time to test their blood sugar levels.’
He took my hand and pressed the pin on the disc into my finger. It stung for a second. He held my finger so the blood dripped into the empty box. Two . . . three drops. Then he let go.
I sucked on the tip of my finger. The sting had already gone.
Elijah stood up as Milo wheeled over with a plate of food.
He looked at Milo and the plate
dismissively. ‘Keep mine hot, I’ll have something in an hour or so.’
Milo nodded, his face expressionless. He set the plate down in front of me.
‘I’m sure I’ll be able to achieve what I’m aiming to do here, Rachel,’ Elijah went on. ‘Then you will be free.’
My heart seemed to constrict in my chest. It didn’t matter how many times Elijah tried to reassure me, I didn’t . . . couldn’t . . . believe his plan was as straightforward as he made out.
‘How long will your tests take?’ I asked.
‘This I cannot say. I would hope no more than a week or two. Then you can return home to your parents.’
But not to Theo. He won’t ever want me back, not after what I’ve just put him through.
‘You’ll really let me go?’
‘Once I’ve produced a working synthesis, yes.’
Right. Again, I couldn’t trust what he said. I mean, he sounded so reasonable, but he’d told me about the Eos protein . . . and I could identify his chalet . . . surely I knew too much for Elijah to ever let me go?
‘In the meantime,’ Elijah went on, ‘I’m afraid there’s no phone and no internet access, but there are some wonderful books in the library next to the sun porch which I think you are of an age to enjoy. Plus there is Milo to entertain you. I’m sorry, but you will have no contact with the outside world for a while.’ He paused. ‘I came to this place a long time ago, when I was first on the run from RAGE. It has always brought me good luck before . . .’
As he left the chalet, Milo wheeled over with his own plate of food. We ate in silence for a minute or so.
‘Was that true about there being no internet connection?’ I said.
‘Yeah, and the TV isn’t wired up either.’ Milo made a face then smiled gently. ‘It’s real nice to see you again, Rachel.’
I nodded. Oh God, I was going to have to resume my pretence at friendliness with Milo in the hope that it would win me more information. I glanced at Milo’s black beanie.
‘Your hat looks good on you,’ I said, biting into a piece of bacon.
Milo smiled, his face reddening a little.
I swallowed the bacon. ‘Er . . . so where’s this library?’
‘Through there.’ Milo pointed beyond the kitchen area, to where the room angled round in an L-shape. Taking another piece of bacon, I went over. Here, the room narrowed into a dark corridor lined from top to bottom with shelves full of books. I walked along, peering at the titles. A lot of books in a foreign language I didn’t recognise. Then a whole section of classic English writers: people I’d done – or heard of – at school, like Charles Dickens and Charlotte Bronte, plus loads of others. A shelf of modern paperbacks stood at the end.
The corridor bent around again, in another L-shape. I followed it and the room suddenly opened up into what, I realised immediately, must be the sun porch. Floor-to-ceiling windows – and a French door that opened onto a balcony – looked out over acres of white snow. A stream ran through a pine forest over to the right – presumably leading round the chalet and down to the lake on the other side.
In the distance I could just make out Elijah, hands deep in the pockets of his greatcoat, trudging towards what looked like some sort of concrete bunker rising up out of the ground.
Was that where he was carrying out all his tests?
With a jolt I realised that maybe Elijah was telling the truth about not hurting me, but lying about what this Eos protein did. He’d said it would ‘save lives’ but maybe it was actually harmful . . . even evil.
Oh God. It hadn’t even occurred to me before that by sacrificing myself to save Theo, I might end up condemning far more people to some awful fate.
Trying not to think about this, I looked round the sun porch. Like everywhere else in the chalet it was warm and bright and comfortable, full of red padded armchairs and a long brown couch, with ornaments on the tables and an art deco clock on the wall.
A squeaking noise sounded behind me, and Milo appeared, my breakfast plate in his hand. ‘Here.’ He offered it to me, shyly.
‘Thanks.’ With a great effort I smiled at him. ‘Why don’t you bring your food in here too?’
‘Sure.’ Smiling, he wheeled himself off.
I sank into one of the armchairs. Outside, in the distance, Elijah had reached the concrete bunker. He stood by the door. After a few seconds, it slid open and he disappeared inside.
One thing was for sure: somehow I was going to find a way inside that place myself and discover all I could about the Eos protein and exactly how Elijah was planning on using it.
74
Theo
I couldn’t stop thinking about her. How could she have fallen for Milo so soon? Maybe it was that syndrome I’d read about where, after a while, kidnapped people develop feelings for their captors. Except Rachel had only been on Calla a few days.
Of course Milo did look a lot like me, and Rachel had liked me once, so maybe that made everything happen faster . . .
I wandered around for a couple of hours, unwilling to go back to the hotel. In the end a combination of gnawing hunger and lack of money sent me back. As I trudged in through the lobby doors, I tried to force myself to accept what had happened.
It didn’t matter how much I agonised over it – Rachel didn’t want me any more. She’d chosen someone else. And I was just going to have to get used to that fact.
I still felt worse than I’d ever felt in my life.
I took the lift straight up to the room we’d checked into earlier. Rachel’s parents answered the door together when I knocked.
Rachel’s dad grabbed my arm, his face desperate.
‘Have you seen her?’ he said. ‘Do you know where she’s gone?’
I stared at him. ‘She said she was leaving you a note.’
‘She spoke to you? When?’ Mrs Smith gasped. Her eyes looked red and sore. ‘Oh, Richard.’
She reached for her husband’s arm, but he had turned away to pick up a piece of paper. He thrust it in my face. I was still standing in the doorway.
‘This is what she left,’ Mr Smith said, angrily. ‘What else do you know, Theo?’
I glanced down at the note.
Dear Mum and Dad
If you don’t want Grace, you can’t really want me. I know that you love me and I love you too. And I know that you’ve been through so much thinking I was dead, then getting me back, but I don’t belong at home any more. I want to be with someone else. Milo is another clone of Elijah’s. He’s lived with him and worked with him and he knows everything about him. Please believe that Milo loves me. He only wants to help me and keep me safe. I will get in touch when I can – and I will see you both again soon.
Please look after yourselves and tell Lewis the same.
Lots of love to you both. Rx
‘Well?’ Mr Smith stared accusingly at me.
I shuffled from foot to foot. A chambermaid walked along the hotel corridor past us. She cast us a curious glance.
I suddenly felt completely humiliated. How could Rachel do this? How could she just up and turn her back on me?
‘What she says in the note is what she said to me,’ I mumbled, my face burning. I looked down at the carpet. ‘I don’t know any more.’
Mr Smith sighed, slumping sideways against the wall. His wife turned on her heel and stalked away across the room. Mr Smith stepped back, giving me room to walk inside, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer.
‘Come in, Theo.’
He shut the door after me and indicated I should take one of the chairs by the window. I sat down and he sat opposite me, on the bed. Mrs Smith paced up and down.
‘I thought you and Rachel were . . .’ Mr Smith hesitated, clearly trying to find the right phrase, ‘. . . er, going out together?’
I shook my head. Apparently not.
‘Who is this Milo?’ Mrs Smith snapped angrily. ‘How does Rachel know him?’
I told her what I knew.
‘Why on earth
does Ro think she can trust this guy?’ her dad asked, an expression of complete bewilderment on his face.
I thought back to the way Milo had looked at Rachel in Lab Three . . . how he’d let her walk away without shooting.
‘He thinks he’s in love with her,’ I said.
Mrs Smith snorted. ‘And how would you know that?’
Because I am too.
I said nothing.
Mr Smith sighed again.
‘What are you going to do?’ I asked.
‘I’ve been onto the police,’ Mr Smith said.
I opened my mouth to protest that this could lead Elijah straight to us, but he silenced me with his hand.
‘I deliberately haven’t gone to the people who organised our relocation. Rachel told us it was one of our own agents – a government contact – who gave her new identity away in the first place,’ he said. ‘We don’t know who we can trust there yet, so I’ve just told the local police that our daughter is missing again. Of course they all thought she was dead, so I’m having an uphill struggle getting anyone to believe she’s run away.’
‘Frankly, I don’t think they’re that bothered,’ Mrs Smith snapped. ‘You were far too conciliatory on the phone, Richard.’
‘I was trying to be diplomatic,’ Mr Smith protested.
‘Is that what you call it.’ She turned to me. ‘When they heard about Rachel’s note, they strongly implied that if she’d gone of her own free will and was less than two months away from her sixteenth birthday that finding her wasn’t really a top priority.’
‘I know, but—’ Mr Smith started.
‘But it should be a top priority, Richard,’ Mrs Smith shrieked. Her mouth was set in a thin line. ‘You should be pushing them to make it one.’
They started arguing, Mrs Smith slinging insults at her husband and Mr Smith trying to calm her down. After a minute, Mrs Smith turned on me.
‘Did you do something to upset her?’ she demanded.