The Medusa Project: The Set-Up

  We looked up and down the street. There was no one about and only two shops and a pub in sight. I glanced at the shops. One was a newsagent with a closed sign hanging on the door. The other was a bakery with fresh pies and tarts in the window.

  ‘I’m starving,’ Ed said, eyeing the bakery.

  ‘We’ve got to ask directions anyway,’ I said. ‘Maybe we can get some food too.’

  ‘We don’t have any money.’

  ‘That doesn’t need to stop us. I mean, if we’re going to help Ketty we’ve got to eat.’ I threw Ed a sideways glance. ‘You do the talking. I’ll grab what I can, yeah?’

  Ed said nothing. I knew he didn’t like the idea of me using my telekinesis to steal food. Still, what choice did we have? Neither of us had eaten in over twelve hours.

  We walked across the road. While Ed asked the girl at the counter for directions to Penhagen House, I fixed my gaze on a tray of pasties in the shop window. They were too far away for me to reach without leaning right over the counter. I held my jacket over my arm for cover, and motioned two pasties into my hand. I covered them with the jacket as we left the shop.

  ‘It’s the next right, then the left-hand fork at the end of the village.’ Ed glanced at where the pasties make a bulge under my jacket. As we turned the corner I held one out to him.

  He shook his head. ‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘It’s just wrong.’

  I sighed and bit into my own pasty. It tasted delicious, all light crisp pastry and thick meaty filling.

  As we hit the main road out of the village, we started jogging. I wasn’t sure what time it was but Ketty must have been here for hours now. I swallowed down the last of my pasty and sped up.

  ‘Why d’you hate your abilities so much?’ I said.

  Ed shrugged as he kept pace beside me. ‘I told you . . . it’s wrong to look inside people’s heads. Apart from the fact that it could put me in danger, Mr Fox says it’s . . . it’s an invasion of privacy. ‘

  A few days ago I’d have dismissed this as typical Fergus uptightness. Now, after Jack’s betrayal and nearly hurting that baby in the park, I considered it carefully.

  ‘Sometimes it might be wrong to mind-read, sure,’ I said. ‘But, sometimes, it’s justified. Sometimes – like you said before – if it’s going to save someone’s life – you have to. Like you did back at the heliport, for Ketty.’

  Ed looked at me. His eyes were intense, for once almost meeting mine.

  ‘Okay, but where do you draw the line?’ he said. ‘How do you know when it’s okay to mind-read and when it isn’t? Who decides?’

  I didn’t have an answer for that. And, just then, the road out of Penhagen narrowed into a single-lane country road. Cars were whizzing past, so we fell into single file, running harder now, both of us lost in our own thoughts.

  After about five minutes, we reached a gleaming iron gate and a sign which read: Penhagen House.

  My heart leaped into my throat. Ketty was in here.

  ‘This has to be it.’ Ed’s low whisper spoke my own thoughts. ‘We’ve found her.’

  I peered over the gate at the house beyond.

  Dramatic wasn’t a big enough word to describe what I saw.

  A sprawling, ultra-modern mass of glass and metal, it stood at the end of a long, sweeping driveway and was set into the hill, like a series of shelves, on three levels. Beyond was the cliff edge – bleak and bare, apart from a single dead tree – and past that was the sea. Nearest us, at the end of the first ‘shelf’ of house, a helipad jutted out. But there was no sign of the helicopter which had ferried Ketty, Jack and Dylan here earlier.

  ‘D’you think they’re still here?’ Ed said. ‘What if Carson’s already come and taken the formula . . . and Ketty?’

  ‘We can’t think like that,’ I said. I glanced up. The sun was high now, blazing down from a clear blue sky.

  ‘Where d’you think Ketty is?’ Ed said.

  I looked at the building. ‘We’re going to have to get inside and look around.’

  ‘What about those?’ Ed pointed to a set of security cameras on the roof. ‘And there’re probably others.’

  I nodded. ‘I’ll take care of them. Let’s get a bit closer.’

  Keeping close to the line of trees we edged down the hill so we were more on a level with the house. From here I could see three sets of security cameras. Only one, though, was pointing towards us.

  At that moment Jack came out of a door in the house, just under the camera. We both shrank back behind our trees, but Jack didn’t even look in our direction. He walked purposefully across the patio and round the corner to the back of the house. The camera followed him until he disappeared from view. Then it swivelled back into position, trained towards us again. I glanced at the door Jack had come through. It had swung to, but was not properly shut.

  ‘At least we have a way in now.’ I took a breath in and focused on moving the camera myself. It shifted a centimetre or so, but as Jack paced into view again, a phone clamped to his ear, it trained itself back on him.

  I tried to move it again, but my telekinesis wasn’t powerful enough.

  Crap. ‘It’s really hard for me to move anything that resists,’ I whispered.

  ‘So how are we . . .?’

  ‘No problem.’

  Jack disappeared round the front of the house again. I picked up a stone.

  ‘I’m going to smash the camera lens above that door. It should buy us enough time to get inside.’

  ‘I don’t think you’ll be able to send a stone that far.’ Ed screwed up his forehead, clearly trying to work out what he thought I was capable of. ‘Not fast enough to smash the lens, anyway.’

  I gritted my teeth. What did he know? ‘Watch me.’ I focused on the stone, letting it hover in the air for a second. Then I let it fly. The stone whizzed through the air. Yes. It was soon soaring past the helicopter pad, but, the further it got away from me, the slower it travelled. I urged it on, but I could feel my power draining . . . the stone was losing height . . . crap . . . it was going to fall on the concrete and Jack would hear.

  ‘Nico!’ Ed whispered urgently beside me.

  With a huge mental effort I swerved the stone sideways so that it fell, noiselessly, on the grass.

  I sat back, panting.

  Ed raised an ‘I told you so’ eyebrow at me. ‘Plan B?’

  He sounded so like Ketty it made me wince.

  I shrugged. ‘Got any suggestions?’

  Ed thought for a minute. ‘What about a decoy?’

  ‘How would that work?’ I said.

  ‘You go over and draw the camera’s attention away, while I slip through the door.’

  I wrinkled my nose. ‘But then they’ll know we’re here. I’ll be captured.’

  ‘It’s the only way.’

  ‘Really? Well how’bout you let yourself be captured while I find another way in.’

  ‘But . . .’

  Jack reappeared, hands in pockets, his phone call clearly over. He stood on the edge of the patio, looking out to sea. And then Dylan stepped out of the house. As she walked across to him, the camera above the door swivelled after her. So did Ed’s eyes.

  ‘I thought you were all into Ketty,’ I said, accusingly.

  ‘I am.’ Ed glared at me. ‘It’s just . . . I’ve never really looked at her properly . . . Your girlfriend, I mean.’

  I glanced over at Dylan again. She was wearing jeans and a tight black jumper. Her hair was loose, blowing in the wind like red silk. She looked like a model taking a break from some photo shoot.

  ‘She’s not my girlfriend,’ I said. ‘Anyway, she might look fit, but she’s kind of useless underneath. I know she’s scared of Jack and Carson, but she could still try and help us.’ I paused. ‘I mean, the Medusa formula – which she’s basically helping Jack to sell – killed her mum too.’

  Ed watched Jack and Dylan talking for a second. ‘I was thinking,’ he said hesitantly, ‘we came here for Ketty, but we do – also –
have to stop Jack selling that formula.’

  ‘I know.’ All the way here, underneath my overriding desire to rescue Ketty, the same thought had been running through my mind. I glanced up at the camera above the door again. It was focused on Dylan and Jack. They were still deep in conversation, looking out towards the dead tree on the cliff edge.

  It was as good a chance as we were going to get.

  ‘We have to go now. Make a run for it.’ I looked round at Ed.

  He blinked back at me. There wasn’t time to persuade him.

  ‘Come on.’ I raced off.

  ‘Wait,’ Ed whispered, furiously, behind me.

  But I ran on, only pausing when I reached the cover of the house wall. I peered round. Dylan and Jack were still talking. Ed caught me up.

  ‘You have to stop going off on your own like that,’ he hissed.

  I shrugged. ‘Sssh.’ The wind was fiercer here, closer to the sea. It whistled round my ears, stinging my cheeks. It carried Jack and Dylan’s voices towards me.

  ‘Carson will be here soon,’ Jack was saying, sounding tense. ‘As soon as we’ve done the handover, we’re out of here.’

  ‘What about Ketty?’ Dylan asked, twisting her hair round her hand.

  Jack shrugged.

  Ed’s face paled. ‘He is going to hand her over,’ he breathed.

  ‘Hurry.’ It wasn’t far to the door now and Jack and Dylan were still talking. I crept round the wall, praying neither of them would look round. Just a few more strides . . . There.

  I tugged the door open. We were inside.

  We tiptoed quickly down the corridor. The house was so designer it made Jack’s mews house look like some old lady’s home. Wooden floors. White walls. Strange, iron ornaments. But I wasn’t really thinking about the décor at that point. I was all focused on Ketty – on how I’d failed her . . . on how we had to find her . . .

  There were no cameras that I could see inside the house, but it was large and sprawling and we had no idea if anyone, other than Jack or Dylan, was here. We crept along a series of identical corridors, passed a few empty rooms, but no sign of Ketty – or anyone else.

  ‘Let’s try up there.’ Ed pointed to a short flight of stairs.

  We walked up. Another corridor. Most of the doors were open, leading into more smart, bare rooms. Ed stopped outside the third door on the left. It was shut. He pointed to a keypad and a row of lights on the wall.

  ‘It’s an electronic lock,’ he whispered.

  I hesitated. None of the other doors we’d passed had been locked. Surely that meant Ketty must be in here . . .

  I knocked lightly. ‘Hello?’ I hissed. ‘Ketty?’

  There was a scuffling noise on the other side of the door. Then the sound of footsteps, rushing across the room.

  ‘Nico?’ The voice said. ‘Is that you?

  I started, then glanced at Ed. He looked as shocked as I felt. Because the voice belonged to the last person I was expecting to find here.

  Fergus Fox.

  My chest tightened. Fergus was here. He’d come for Ketty too. A mix of emotions swirled through me: relief that we weren’t on our own any more mingled with anxiety that Fergus was locked up.

  ‘Mr Fox?’ Ed said uncertainly. ‘Is that you?’

  ‘Ed?’ Fergus’s voice grew alarmed. ‘I told you to go back to school. What are you doing here?’

  ‘Rescuing you, apparently,’ I said.

  ‘Nico?’ Now Fergus sounded really panic-stricken. ‘Are you both all right?’

  ‘We’re fine. Have you seen Ketty?’

  ‘No, but she’s here somewhere.’ Fergus paused. ‘After I spoke to you I called the police. But they claimed no helicopter had left Raven Street Pier heliport at the time you said early this morning.’

  ‘We know,’ I said. ‘Geri Paterson got the heliport people to destroy all the info on the flight.’

  ‘I guessed something like that must have happened . . .’ Fergus tailed off.

  ‘So you came here by yourself?’ I said.

  ‘I called Ketty’s phone,’ he said. ‘Dylan answered. I realized it must be her straight away.’ He tailed off again.

  ‘So did she tell you where she and Jack and Ketty were?’

  ‘Yes, but I think it must have been a trap because Jack saw me as soon as I arrived and I didn’t see Dylan at all. God, I thought I could talk Jack out of selling the formula . . . that I could get him to let Ketty go. Anyway . . . listen, boys, you must get yourselves out of here. I can take care of myself . . . and Ketty.’

  I looked round. ‘Maybe there’s some way we can get the door open.’

  ‘Not without this.’ Jack’s mocking voice came from behind us.

  I spun round, ready to fight.

  Jack held up some sort of key fob. His gun was in his other hand. ‘Talk about walking into the lion’s den,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I’ve got to hand it to you two, you’re certainly brave. I thought I’d have to chase after you once I’d given Carson the formula.’ He walked over and swiped the key fob past the narrow row of lights on the wall. The door clicked open. ‘Inside.’

  As he pushed Ed and me into the room, my mind raced, trying to work out if I could lift the gun from Jack’s hands. But he was holding it too tightly.

  The room we’d walked into was a bedroom. Small and bare, with a single bed against one wall and a wooden wardrobe in the corner. Fergus was standing by the window, his face white and strained.

  ‘You can’t keep us here, Jack,’ he said. ‘Think it through.’

  ‘Shut up.’ Jack pointed the gun at Fergus. ‘Sit on the bed.’

  Fergus sat. Jack turned to me and Ed. I noticed he avoided looking Ed directly in the eye, presumably to protect himself from any mind-reading. ‘You came here alone, I hope?’

  I pressed my lips together, unwilling to give anything away.

  ‘Yes we did, but Mr Fox called the police,’ Ed squeaked.

  I rolled my eyes. Jack just grinned. ‘Thanks for filling me in,’ he said. Keeping his gun trained on us, he backed out of the door.

  As soon as he’d gone I turned on Ed. ‘Nice one, truth boy,’ I hissed. ‘Jack knows Geri Paterson controls the police. Now you’ve told him we came here alone, he knows we’ve got no back-up.’

  ‘What do you need back-up for?’ Ed snapped. ‘You’re the bloody Lone Ranger.’

  ‘Stop it, boys.’ Fergus sighed. ‘This is bad enough without you two squabbling.’

  Irritation surged through me. ‘Don’t tell us what to do,’ I said. ‘If you’d told me the truth about the Medusa gene, we wouldn’t be here.’

  ‘If you’d listened to me, we wouldn’t be here,’ Fergus insisted. ‘Don’t you understand even now, Nico? Everything I’ve done has been about trying to protect you.’

  I looked away, not wanting to admit to myself that he had a point.

  ‘So how are we going to get Ketty?’ I said.

  Fergus walked across the room and stared out of the window. We were only a floor or so off the ground, facing out from the side of the house, and the view only reached as far as the trees, with just a hint of the rough, dark, choppy sea round the corner. ‘I don’t know.’ He sighed.

  I went over to the door. There was no way on earth I could get through an electronic lock – with or without telekinesis. Lying, on the other hand, was simple.

  ‘I’ve got an idea.’ I banged on the door. ‘Jack! Help!’

  ‘What are you doing?’ Fergus looked up, bewildered.

  ‘Pretend you’ve collapsed or something,’ I said. ‘Help! Come here!’

  ‘What?’ Fergus glanced at Ed. ‘What’s he talking about?’

  ‘He does this.’ Ed rolled his eyes. ‘The Lone Ranger . . .’

  Footsteps pounded down the corridor outside.

  ‘Sssh.’ I pointed to Fergus’ stomach. ‘Pretend you’ve got an ulcer or something.’

  ‘What’s up?’ It was Dylan.

  ‘Open the door,’ I said. ‘Fergus
is ill.’

  I glared at Fergus, who rolled his eyes, but gave a fairly convincing moan.

  ‘Dylan, please. He’s your uncle, for God’s sake.’

  ‘I can’t.’ Her voice was as guilty as it was suspicious. ‘Jack has the key fob.’

  ‘He has an ulcer,’ Ed shouted.

  ‘Yeah, he needs his medication,’ I added.

  ‘I’ll get Jack.’ Dylan’s light footsteps retreated along the corridor.

  Damn.

  ‘Never mind, so long as they open the door that’s all we need.’ I glanced at Ed. ‘When Jack gets here you’ll have to do your weird-eye shit on him, find out why he’s keeping us here.’

  ‘It’s not weird-eye—’

  ‘Boys!’ Fergus hissed.

  Ed turned sulkily away and slumped to the ground by the window.

  I waited next to the door for Jack. If he came in alone, maybe Fergus could keep him talking while I took the gun. I wasn’t sure having the gun would do me much good, though. I mean, it wasn’t like I had any idea how to use it.

  Which Jack undoubtedly did.

  ‘Jack’s coming.’ It was Dylan, outside the door again. ‘I have to go keep watch for Carson up at the gate. Listen, there’s something you—’

  But before she could say any more, Jack was back, stomping and swearing down the corridor. He ordered her away. Dylan left.

  Jack flung the door open. He stood in the doorway, holding his gun in front of him. His face was twisted with fury.

  ‘What?’ he said to Fergus.

  ‘I’m ill.’ Fergus doubled over. ‘It’s my ulcer.’

  ‘Does it hurt?’ Jack said.

  ‘A lot.’

  Jack sucked in his breath. ‘Good.’ He turned to me. ‘Now, where is it?’

  I stared at him. Any thoughts I’d had of taking the gun with telekinesis had gone. Jack was too alert.

  ‘Where’s what?’ I said.

  Jack strode over to me and grabbed me round the throat. His fingers clutched roughly at my neck. There was a tiny fleck of spit in the corner of his mouth. I could see the fear, deep in his eyes. ‘The memory card, you little bastard.’

  I stared up at him. What was he talking about?

  ‘The memory card . . .’ Jack repeated. ‘The one that I copied the Medusa gene formula onto. You took it out of my pocket as you snuck into the house, didn’t you?’