CHAPTER 2
Daniel stirred in his bed. He rolled over and looked at the digital clock on the low cabinet beside him. It showed ten past two in the morning and the room was still and quiet. A sliver of moonlight snaked in through a gap in the curtains and glinted off some of his triathlon medals and trophies.
He yawned and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand; in five hours he’d have to be up and getting ready for another day at school. He groaned at the thought – another day of pretending to be like the rest, another day of trying to avoid Terry Llewellyn and his gang of monkeys.
Another day of waiting for three p.m.
He turned back, tugged the warm duvet around him and closed his eyes. He was jerked back to consciousness a few moments later by the creak of his parents’ bedroom door opening. He raised his head from the pillow; his senses now alert. His parents had their own bathroom off their bedroom, so maybe one of them wanted a glass of water or something from downstairs.
Then he heard two soft sounds, as if someone had punched a pillow, and he was snapped into sharper consciousness. The hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention, his heart beat quickened and for some unquantifiable reason he was suddenly afraid. Then there was another sound – just the faintest creak of a floorboard from the corridor. Was it just his overactive imagination, or was there actually someone in the house?
He slid from under the duvet and stepped silently towards his large built-in wardrobe. He was only wearing an old t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts, and felt a shiver go through him as the cold of the room touched his skin. His mum had always nagged him about leaving the wardrobe door open, but he was glad that he didn’t have to make any noise as he reached in for his dressing gown. He heard another faint creak of a floorboard – just outside his door this time – and he froze.
There was someone there.
Daniel stepped behind the open wardrobe door, putting it between him and the entrance to his room. Perhaps it was just his sudden fear but the room seemed to have got even colder. Goose-bumps broke out over his arms and, standing there, he started to shiver. He dared not move, dared not reach out for the warmth of his dressing gown. A hollow sensation gripped him in the pit of his stomach.
He heard the handle of his bedroom door turn, slow and quiet. A second later the door eased open. He doubted he’d have heard it if he’d still been asleep.
Daniel peered around the edge of the wardrobe door and saw a man dressed in dark clothes and balaclava step into his room. The man made his way silently to the bed, holding what looked like a gas-powered syringe in one hand. Moonlight glinted off its metallic spike and a drop of liquid fell from its point. The stranger’s gloved hand reached out to pull back the duvet when a thudding crash blew the bedroom door wide open.
Another man, equally dressed in black clothes but with a bare head, thundered into the room and bundled the first figure to the floor. It was like watching a movie as the two dark shapes fought a brief and almost silent battle; with swift jabbing punches from both men slamming into their opponent. The bare-headed man gripped hold of the syringe and forced it down into his opponent’s thigh. Daniel heard the psssst, as the pressurised gas fired the liquid into the man’s leg. Whatever had been in the syringe, it quickly started to take effect. The man slowed in his fight; his punches and blocks a fraction of a second too slow.
The bare-headed man slapped his opponent’s hands away and gripped his neck in the crook of his elbow. The first man reached into his jacket and pulled out a pistol, complete with a thick silencer. His opponent hooked the hand holding the pistol with a knee and forced it to the carpet. A bullet shot from the weapon – the sound of someone punching a pillow – and it thudded into the frame of the wardrobe next to Daniel.
He dropped to his knees and put his hands over his ears. He told himself that this couldn’t be happening but the sound of the two men fighting continued. He had to know what was going on, and with nervous anticipation he glanced around the edge of the door.
The bare-headed man still gripped the first around the neck and pushed with his free hand, twisting the neck violently to one side. With a sickening snap and crunch of bone the intruder’s body went limp.
Daniel held his breath. This must be some sort of dream. It had to be. A man couldn’t have just been killed in his bedroom.
The bare-headed man eased his victim to the carpet and pulled away the dead man’s balaclava: his blond hair now spiky and sweat-stained. A trickle of blood came from the corner of his mouth.
‘Daniel?’ the bare-headed man whispered, reaching for the bed, his breath ragged. ‘Daniel, it’s alright. You’re safe, but only if you come with me now. Daniel?’
Daniel moved back behind the comparative safety of the door and closed his eyes once more. Perhaps if he shut them tight enough then all of this would prove to be a nightmare but then he heard the soft tread of the man’s step on the carpet, coming his way.
The dark shape of the killer came around the edge of the door and Daniel lashed out with a fist. The man deflected it with ease then the killer reached out and grabbed at him. Daniel flailed in his attempt to free himself but proved no match for the older man’s strength and after a few seconds of struggle found himself in the tight grip of a murderer.
The man slapped Daniel across the face, the sound of the glove against his cheek surprising him more than the actual blow.
‘You have to listen to me,’ the man spat. ‘There’ll be others like him who’ll try to take you. You’re not safe here, Daniel. You have to come with me. Now!’
‘What?’ His head spun. None of this made any sense.
‘Trust me. Come with me now and it’ll all be explained.’
‘But … What about my parents?’
Even in the darkness of the room Daniel saw the man shake his head. ‘I was too late to save them.’
‘What do you mean? What’s happened to them?’
‘They’re dead, Daniel,’ the man said without any trace of emotion. ‘I’m sorry, but you’re the one who’s important.’
‘No!’ Daniel tried to pull away from the man’s grip, desperate to see what had happened. His parents couldn’t really be dead. That just wasn’t possible. ‘Mum! Dad!’
‘Daniel! You have to listen to me. We don’t have time for this, we have to go now.’
‘Mum! Dad! Help, there’s a man –’
The killer pulled back a fist and jabbed it hard into Daniel’s jaw. For a spilt second Daniel didn’t know quite what had happened, he staggered back against the clothes in his wardrobe, his hand reaching for where the punch had struck. In the five years of being bullied by Terry Llewellyn he’d never been hit that hard. He collapsed, unconscious, before his hand even reached his face.
Daniel opened his eyes. He woke to find himself in an unfamiliar bed with bright sunlight streaming in through a skylight in the ceiling. The room was neat and tidy, and a vase of fresh-cut flowers filled the room with a delicate fragrance. He raised a hand to the reddened section of his jaw and opened his mouth, his fingers probing the tender flesh. Then the memories of what had happened flooded back.
He sat up with a start, his heart racing once more. He leapt out of the bed and went to the bedroom door – it was locked. He raced over to the window, pulled the heavy curtains aside and tried to open it. It was locked as well, and had a wooden shutter blocking the view to the outside. The noise of a key being turned in the bedroom door brought his attention back around. He cowered between the bed and a chest of drawers, his knees tight to his chest. The door opened and the killer from last night stood in the doorway.
The man saw Daniel cowering on the floor and held out a pacifying hand. ‘You don’t need to do that,’ the man said, his voice calm and measured.
Any other time Daniel might have thought that the man’s expression was one of embarrassment.
‘There’s nothing to be scared of while you’re here,’ the man continued. ‘I’m sorry about your jaw, by the way. I hope I didn’t hurt
you too much.’
Daniel tried to control his breathing. ‘Where am I?’
‘Somewhere safe. I brought some of your things,’ he said pointing at a pile of folded clothes on a chair close to the bed, a pair of Daniel’s boots underneath. ‘I didn’t have much time so I hope they’re okay. Why don’t you get dressed then come downstairs? There’s breakfast ready, and the professor will answer your questions. I’m sure you’ve got plenty.’
‘Professor?’
The man looked down at the carpet awkwardly as if he didn’t quite know what to say. ‘There’s fresh coffee. Or juice, if you’d prefer. Come down when you’re ready.’
The man turned away and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.
With slow, nervous steps Daniel made his way down the stairs, dressed in the clothes the man had brought. The sound of the killer talking to someone else drifted along the hallway. Daniel stood on the stairs, facing the front door – a way out. He darted to it and turned the latch but the door wouldn’t open. He pulled and tugged frantically at it but the door was securely locked.
‘Daniel.’ The voice was that of an elderly man, warm and soft.
Daniel turned to see a man who looked as if he was in his late sixties, standing in the kitchen doorway. He had a grey-white beard, wore a smile and had his hands tucked into the pockets of a beige cardigan.
‘It may be difficult for you to understand,’ the old man continued, ‘but there’s no need to be scared. You’re safe, for now.’
‘If I’m safe then let me go.’
‘I will,’ the man replied, nodding, ‘I will, but first you need to listen to what I have to say. I know that all of this must seem like a nightmare to you, God knows it would to me, but if you’ll afford me a few minutes I’ll try to explain it all. If we meant you any harm it would have been done already, don’t you think?’
Daniel stared at the old man’s eyes, trying to gauge the honesty of his words. ‘What do you want with me?’
‘Come and sit down,’ the man said. ‘Have some breakfast. It’s the most important meal of the day, don’t you know?’ He turned and walked back into the kitchen.
Daniel stood for a moment looking down the empty hallway then made his way slowly to the kitchen door. Daniel could see open fields through the window – wherever he was, he was no longer in the city. The old man sat at a large wooden table, a cup of tea in his hands and a large brown envelope next to him. The killer lounged against a cabinet a few paces farther in, drinking a cup of coffee.
A plate of scrambled eggs and bacon sat on the table along with a glass of orange juice and a steaming cup of coffee. The old man gestured toward the empty seat opposite him. Daniel sat down cautiously and eyed the food with suspicion.
‘It’s not poisoned,’ the old man said with a smile. ‘It’s all local food; the eggs are from my own chickens, the bacon from a farm just a few miles away. It’s all really rather good. My name’s Alan Cuthberts, by the way.’
‘He said you were a professor.’
‘That’s right,’ Alan said. ‘At least I used to be. But not for many years now.’
‘Why …’ Daniel stifled a choke. ‘Why did you kill my parents?’
‘We didn’t. The man who tried to take you last night committed that terrible act. I can only apologise that Simon here reached your house too late to save them.’
Daniel flashed a glance at the other man. ‘Are they … are they really dead?’
Alan took a deep breath. ‘I’m afraid so, yes.’
‘Why would someone want to kill them? What did they ever do?’
‘Nothing at all. I said that I’d tell you everything and I will, however grim the truth may be. This will be difficult for you to comprehend, Daniel, but Joshua and Elizabeth were not your real parents.’
‘Don’t be stupid. Of course they were. Why would you say something like that?’
Alan took a large swig from his cup and shook his head. ‘I’m not lying. I gave you to them, a long time ago. They were lovely, dear people; good friends of mine and I grieve with you at their loss. I had thought that any trace of who you were, who they were, had been erased. I thought that you were all safe. It would appear, however, that wasn’t the case.’
‘I don’t understand. What’re you talking about?’ Daniel stood up, knocking his chair over. ‘I saw him kill someone last night!’ Daniel pointed at Simon. ‘How do I know that it wasn’t him who killed my mum and dad?’
‘You’ll just have to take my word for it,’ Alan answered. ‘And I know that under the circumstances that’s asking a great deal of you but nevertheless, you have to believe me. Simon had to kill that man in order to protect you.’
‘But why? Why should I need protecting?’
‘That’s a very good question, Daniel, and one I had hoped you would never have to ask. Please, sit back down and I’ll explain.’
Daniel glanced at Simon; although he looked relaxed Daniel sensed that the man could leap into action at a moment’s notice. There was something hard and cold about his eyes. Daniel was sure that last night wasn’t the first time the man sipping coffee had killed.
Daniel turned back to the professor. The old man did seem genuinely upset at what had happened. Either that or he was a brilliant actor. Daniel decided that if he was to get anywhere near finding out what the truth was, then behaving like a ten-year-old wasn’t the way forward. He picked the chair up off the floor and sat back down.
‘Thank you,’ Alan said. ‘Late yesterday evening we found out that a data terminal belonging to a government official had been cloned; the information which it held, copied. One of the files contained your name and address.’
‘Why would … What? I don’t understand.’
‘Have you ever been ill, Daniel?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Any colds? Flus? Have you ever had the measles or chicken pox?’
‘I … I don’t think so.’
‘Have you never been ill at all?’
‘Not that I can remember.’
Alan smiled. ‘You’ve never been ill.’ It wasn’t a question.
‘I broke my arm when I was seven. I fell out of a tree.’
‘But it healed in a couple of weeks or so? Am I right?’
‘Yes.’ Daniel’s heart began beating fast. ‘How did you know?’
‘Even the swelling from Simon’s blow has gone down.’
Daniel put a hand up to where he’d been punched. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I knew you as a child,’ Alan told him. ‘In fact, if there’s anyone who could claim to be your real father, it would be me.’
Daniel stared at the old man. ‘You’re my father?’
‘Not in the biblical sense of the word, no. But it was me who created you.’
It took a moment for Daniel to process the old man’s words. He let out a short laugh. ‘What?’
‘I used to work for the government, Daniel, many years ago now.’
‘You created me?’
‘I’m sorry, perhaps that wasn’t the kindest of words to use,’ Alan continued. ‘Let me explain. I was in charge of a team of scientists researching the possibility of complete gene manipulation. You were the result. The reason why you heal so quickly, why you’ve never succumbed to any illness is because, on a genetic level at least, you’re pure. Any defects in the genes, any abnormalities, any flaws which would allow a virus or infection to take hold were all scrubbed away. Negative genes were removed and positive genes introduced or enhanced. You’re not immortal, Daniel, at least I don’t think you are, but barring any accidents you should live a very long life.’
‘Are you telling me that I’m some sort of mutant?’
‘No, not at all, and you must never think that. But you are incredibly important. Which is why, when I found out what they had planned for you, I hid you away.’
‘What do you mean, “What they had planned for me”? And who are “they”?’
‘They were t
he government department in charge of the programme and to them you were nothing more than a lab rat; the next stage of forced evolution. It was only after you were … born, for want of a better word, that I found out what their real scheme was.’
Daniel’s throat suddenly went dry and he found it hard to swallow. In the back of his mind he knew that he wouldn’t like the answer to the question on his lips.
‘What was their real scheme?’
‘They intended to let you live for a short while,’ the professor answered, ‘no more than six months, and then dissect you like some sort of animal. I inadvertently saw a document that Dryden had written to his superiors which laid out, in graphic detail, exactly what they intended to do.’
‘Who’s Dryden?’
‘Gregory Dryden, he was the man in charge of R-section; the government’s secret research department. I should’ve known from the first day I met him that he wasn’t to be trusted. He told me that the Emperor Initiative had been created to help mankind; to lead the way in eradicating hereditary defects, to pioneer the war against illness. He spoke of Nobel prizes and wondrous achievements, while all the time he simply wanted a test subject – a human being – which he could cut up like a specimen.
‘I wasn’t prepared to let him do that. I destroyed my research material, stole you away from the lab and set fire to the building. To cover my tracks I made it look as if one of the reactors had failed. It was my hope that, as far as they were concerned, we had both died that night along with all trace of the Initiative. It would appear now that was obviously not the case. Someone in the government must’ve found out who you were and where you lived. It was only a matter of time before Dryden caught wind of it, and so here we are.’
‘This doesn’t make any sense.’
‘Sense or not it’s the truth and I’m so terribly sorry that you ever had to find out.’
Daniel sat quietly, trying desperately to understand. ‘So what happens now?’
‘You have to become invisible again,’ Alan answered. ‘You need to hide. Only this time not even I should know where you’ve gone.’
‘How will I do that?’
‘I have a passport for you and a counterfeit DNA card to match.’ The professor pushed the envelope across the table. ‘Simon will take you to the airport but it’s you who’ll have to decide where you go from there. No one else must know.’
Alan reached down to the side of his chair and lifted up a cloth hold-all. He pushed it across the table.
‘What’s that?’
‘Money, Daniel, for you. I’ve implanted the bag with a device which, if it’s put through an X-ray machine, will make it appear that the contents are clothes. If anyone should open it up, well, then they’ll see what it really holds.’ He patted the bag. ‘There’s enough money in there to enable you to live very comfortably for quite a while, but it’s up to you to choose a life which won’t attract any attention.’
‘You make it sound so simple. I don’t want to go somewhere else. I don’t want to … I want to go home.’
‘I’m afraid you can’t. Ever. If you do they’ll get to you and I won’t be able to stop them. Leaving the country is your only option.’
‘And then what am I supposed to do?’
‘I can’t tell you that, and I don’t want to know. Only you can decide what happens now. You must never let your personal details get onto any database; you must never hold a genuine driving licence, never have a credit card. You must be invisible. I won’t be responsible for them finding you again. And the sooner we can get you out of the country the better.’
‘I’m only sixteen.’
‘I know, and it’s a terrible burden that I’m placing on your shoulders, but believe me – it’s the only way. If they find you, and they won’t stop looking, they’ll commit unspeakable acts which they’ll excuse in the name of science. You’re not a creature serving the greater good: you’re a boy, an innocent.
‘It’s my fault that you’ve had to suffer already. It’s my fault that Joshua and Elizabeth have been killed and I’ll not permit you to suffer anymore. Have some breakfast, I know that you’re probably not very hungry but you need to eat something. You’ve got a long day ahead of you, my boy, and you need to keep your strength up.’
It was late into the evening and the corner office on the twenty-third floor of London’s Brinkley House lay dark and quiet when one of the monitors sprang into life, with a high pitched beep. The screen displayed “Trace DNA Match Located” with a passport image of Daniel along with a flight code number. The name “Tiberius” flashed red.
A door to the office opened and Chris Matthews entered the room, the light from the corridor behind him concealing his face. He took a look at the screen, pulled out a mobile phone and dialled a number. The call was answered before the second ring.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you so late into the evening, sir, but we’ve just received a Red Flash message. Tiberius has been located, departing from Heathrow to America.’
He listened to the brief response. ‘Yes, sir, I’ll notify D-section at once.’