S.O.S

  “Father Tom? Could I have a word?”

  The assassin froze at the voice. It seemed to echo around the church entrance. Instantly he moved away from the door and replaced the glasses that built up his disguise. He listened intently to the murmur of conversation. It was an elderly woman’s voice then moments later there was another voice that joined hers, younger, higher pitched. The moment was lost; he would have to wait.

  Quietly he slipped across the entrance, the low hub of conversation in the side room covering any noise his exit might have made; he opened the door and vanished into the icy morning. Later Father Tom would wonder what had happened to the polite journalist, but he thought nothing of it. These days it seemed that there was very little left that could surprise him.

  *

  Molly sat on her bed with her rucksack packed and waited until morning. She wondered about messaging Dev, but thought better of it; she didn’t want anyone to know where she was. As the light slowly crept over the city and stole into her room, she collected up the contents of her savings and stuffed them into her purse. She pulled her hat down over her ears, buttoned up her coat and left the house before her mother could wake and try to stop her.

  CHAPTER 18 - London

  The first morning train pulled out of Kings Cross station with a small jolt, hardly felt by the passengers making their way north. Most read their morning papers, or spent their time figuring out the crossword, or sat with headphones in ignoring the world around them, or played with their phones. Molly Sharp did none of those things. She had chosen a window seat and now sat in an angry daze, staring out at the passing world which slowly became less urban and built up. The countryside beckoned and the rolling hills began to emerge alongside meadows of grass, occasionally hidden when they passed through a tunnel and everything was darkened. The scenery however did little to help Molly’s mood.

  She was numb with fury; confused and bewildered by how someone she had loved for all those years could have kept this a secret. A twin; it was like half of Molly was missing and she had never known about it. God, no wonder she was weird, she thought. What else could her mother have been hiding about the past?

  Feeling tired now, and hungry, she stood and made her way to the buffet car. She was unsteady with the motion of the train and she felt slightly sick having not eaten since last night. But she didn’t have money to waste on an expensive breakfast, so she bought herself a big cup of coffee and a packet of crisps. That should keep her going, at least until she could find a Lidl when she got to the other end to buy some lunch.

  Molly had switched off her phone and dozed for the rest of the journey without being interrupted by any calls or messages. When the train pulled into the station she was jerked awake and looked out at the Victorian roof of the station. She gathered up her bag and queued to get off the train. As she stepped onto the platform, she had the sudden realisation of what she had done. She was in Newcastle, with just some adoption papers and the name of a children’s home. She had been rash and stupid. She shivered and pulled her coat a little tighter around her. Following the other passengers out to the main station concourse, she looked for the nearest information desk and made her way across to it.

  *

  A remote area of North Korea

  Zack heard noises before he saw the light. There was some shouting and what sounded like the rattle of chains and locks. Suddenly blinding sunlight flooded the space and he had to shut his eyes. He heard more shouting and then the sound of heavy boots. He opened his eyes. He was still in the jeep but it was in some kind of massive storage container the doors of which were wide open. Zack stood and jumped down from the jeep, standing at the open doors of the container. It was a railway coach; he was on a railway somewhere in North Korea. He heard more shouting and jumped right down onto the track and then the scrub land beside it. He looked up the track at the rest of the train.

  “There’s nothing here sir, not that we can find.”

  An American voice. Zack turned.

  “Well we’ve got no jurisdiction to hold them for any longer Sergeant. I guess we’ll have to let the train go and head back to Pyongyang. I know that they’re hiding something, we just can’t find any blasted evidence of it!” The man who spoke wore a uniform and a blue beret. “Load up the trucks then Sergeant and let’s get outta here.”

  Zack hurried across to the man and stood by his side. UN Forces, he read from the cap badge. He wanted to punch the air. Zack had lived his whole life with nothing ever going right and now, in the middle of North Korea he had been inadvertently rescued by a United Nations nuclear search party heading back to the capital. He smiled and that broadened to a grin and finally he let out a yell and laughed out loud, only no-one there was able to hear him.

  *

  Newcastle

  Molly took a taxi to the address that the woman in the information office had given her. The woman told her that out in Heaton it was better to use a cab and to keep it waiting while she made her visit to the address that she had. It was a trek back to the city centre and she was better not doing that alone.

  Leaving the driver a tenner as a deposit, Molly made her way up the path of an ugly, old neglected building. Net curtains twitched at one of the windows as she stepped over an abandoned bicycle. The sign ‘Helton Court’ had been knocked sideways and the end of the word had been half scratched out so that it read, ‘Hell Court’. Molly knocked on the door and waited. She had been rehearsing all the way here what she was going to say, how she was going to track him down, but when the door was opened and she stood face to face with an old, fat man who had brushed the last strands of his hair right over the top of his head to hide his baldness, she lost her nerve. He stared at her, small piggy eyes in a face bulging with flesh.

  “What?” he snapped. “You looking for som’ing?”

  He wore a vest and trousers, and over the top of these a cardigan that had lost some of its buttons.

  Molly cleared her throat. “I’m looking for someone,” she said. “He was adopted from here and I wanted to see if erm...if I can find him.”

  The man stared at her. “Unlikely,” he said, “we get loads of kids thru here, and none of ‘em ever settle. This isn’t yer usual home ye know.”

  “Oh, I...” Molly cleared her throat again. She had lost all her nerve. “I’ve got a picture of him,” she blurted, “and his original name. Do you have any records I could check?”

  The man shrugged. He seemed to be weighing up the situation. He glanced over Molly’s shoulder and looked at the waiting taxi. “You can have a look at me records for a small donation to the home,” he said.

  Molly nodded. Mentally she calculated the cost of the return fare to the station, with maybe a deviation to another address in the city, if she could find out where Michael had gone. She might just be able to do it.

  “OK,” she said, “I’ve got three pounds, but that’s my only offer. It’s all I’ve got.”

  The man thought for a few moments, again weighing up. Finally he shrugged. “OK. In the room at the back. They’re in the cabinet, marked Personal Records. I’ll let you get on with it.” He opened the door a bit wider and Molly slipped into the house. Before she did so she waved at the taxi driver, pointed at her watch and mouthed five minutes.

  The room at the back was grubby and dim with a thin film of grime that seemed to cover everything. Molly took a good look round and wondered what it must feel like to live somewhere like this. She shivered; it was freezing in there. Across the room, under a table, she spotted a filing cabinet and went to it. The whole top drawer was marked ’Personal Records’. Opening the drawer, she found a file of registers first and opened it. Remaining standing, she ran her finger down the list scanning the names. She supposed he would be Michael Sharp before he was adopted and that’s what she was looking for.

  She found him in the third set of registers. So, that told her that he’d been there, but not where he’d gone. She glanced at her watch, conscious of the time and
the meter running on the cab. She thumbed through the rest of the files in the drawer and right at the back she found one marked adoption records. This would be it, she thought, this would tell her where her twin brother was. With trembling hands, she opened the file and leafed through the papers. His were there just towards the back; Michael Sharp’s adoption papers. Molly lifted them out and looked at the snap shot of the smiling blond haired boy and read the name on the records. She dropped the file.

  Stepping back, she caught a sob in the back of her throat and put her hands up to her face. Her heart beat frantically in her chest and she had to focus on breathing. A few moments later, she recovered enough to drop her hands away and knelt and picked up the file. Right across the front of it, across the photograph and the name that she knew so well was the word RETURNED. Molly replaced the file back in the drawer, closed it and with a heavy heart, she left the home and climbed into the taxi.

  “Where to now pet?” the driver asked.

  “Back to the station,” Molly said. “I have to go home.”

  *

  London

  The young man was frustrated. He was no further forward and he had been in London for almost a week already. The systems that he’d hacked weren’t proving valuable and he had little to report on a daily basis to the Colonel. He sat in his hotel room and picked at a plate of food while he checked his computers. The curtains were closed and the faintly green glare from the screens made him look old and haggard. They made him look like a killer.

  He was browsing the net when one of the system alerts went off. He had put key words into the alert code and now the NHS medical records site had notified him that several of those words had come up in a new report filed the previous night. The assassin entered the site and brought up the relevant record. He scrolled down the report. It didn’t seem to add up to much – it usually didn’t with mental health records, but he stopped the curser on one sentence and highlighted it. The young girl in the report had been talking about dark matter and seeing a light. She also, according to the report, was having delusions about dead people and hearing voices. The assassin moved back to the top of the report and made a mental note of the name and address of the patient. Somewhere in the back of his mind was the faint flutter of a thought but it was too far away at the moment to harness it. He closed the file and exited the site.

  *

  Panmumgak – the Joint Security Zone between North and South Korea

  Zack sat forward as the jeep drove through the North Korean border of the joint security area and into the South Korean area. He could hardly believe where he was. It was morning - they had been travelling all night - and brilliant sunshine lit the buildings, shining off the glass and stone. This place was completely different to anything he had seen so far.

  “Home sweet home,” the driver of the UN jeep said as they drove through the wide streets, passing a tourist party already out sightseeing. “We headed to the UNC duty office sir?”

  The officer in the back – who Zack sat next to – and who had been dozing for an hour or so, sat forward and rubbed his hands over his face. “I think we need to report and debrief right away sergeant. We’ll get back to base after that.”

  “Yes sir,” the driver said. He turned down a wide street and stopped at the lights. A party of Japanese tourists, who they had seen earlier, their guide holding a KORYO tours sign with an image of the Japanese flag under it passed the jeep and several of them took photos.

  “Give me a minute will you Sergeant?”

  The sergeant pulled on the hand brake and the officer climbed out of the car.

  “Excuse me ladies and gentlemen,” he said loudly, “Hello, excuse me? It is not permitted to take photographs of the United Nations Command Security Battalion. I’m sorry, no photos!”

  With the back door open, Zack jumped out of the car and joined the party at the back. He watched the officer smile and bow at the Japanese tourists once their guide had translated his request and then get back into the jeep. As the vehicle drove off, Zack saluted him. He was out of there on the tail end of a tour. Next stop the airport and home.

  CHAPTER 19 - London

  The sharp rap of knuckles on the glass panel in the front door made Dev sit up from his cushy armchair. It was the middle of the morning and he was watching a news report on weapons in North Korea. The UN had searched and found nothing again, but they were convinced that something was there. He wasn’t really paying attention though; he had drifted off into a daze. His mum was out and he’d been thinking about Molly. He hadn’t seen her for over twenty four hours, she wasn’t answering his texts and he was worried.

  Dev moved slowly through to the hallway, expecting the postman and suddenly saw a familiar outline through the clouded glass panel in the door. Smiling he opened up.

  “Hey Molly! Where’ve you been?”

  Molly smiled back. “Long story,” she said. “Can I come in?”

  “Yes, of course!” Dev was really pleased to see her. He stepped aside and she came into the hall, bringing a gust of cold air with her. She rubbed her hands together and blew on them. Dev stood and looked at her and then realised that he was still grinning like a loon.

  “Do you want a cup of tea?”

  Molly nodded. She seemed on edge; tightly wound up like a spring.

  “Are you OK?” he asked. She didn’t answer him, just shrugged. “Well let’s get some tea and go up to my room. I’ve got some new calculations to show you.”

  Molly smiled. “Great. You sure know how to impress a girl. New calcs, eh?”

  Dev grinned. “Good to have you back Molly,” he said.

  Just as he was about to shut the door, Molly turned and suddenly the tension and anxiety in her face vanished. It lit up.

  “Molly?”

  Molly stepped back outside and beamed as she recognised the figure of Zack strolling towards the house.

  “Molly?” he tried again.

  “It’s Zack!” she announced. The energy seemed to bounce off her in waves. “Zack’s here! I haven’t seen him for days!” Molly turned away from him and seemed to be smiling at the air. Dev, as ever unable to see Zack, took her word for it. She began talking to nothing and Dev glanced up the road to check no-one was looking.

  As he approached them, Zack wished with all his might that he was physical. When he saw Molly he wanted to hug her; her face was exactly as he’d imagined it all those times in North Korea. She cared about him, not in any way other than simple friendship, but she was his first friend and the sense of that was both joyful and painful to him. If only he were alive.

  He grinned at Molly as he came nearer and she grinned back.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey,” she replied. “I am pleased to see you Zack. I was worried about you.”

  Zack, still grinning shrugged. “Why? What could happen? I’m dead.” He moved a little closer. “But listen, I’ve got something really important to tell you and I need you to tell Dev. OK?” His face had changed now and he looked anxious and afraid. “I’m not sure I’ve got it right, but if I have we need to do something...”

  Molly frowned. She had something really important to tell him too. “I wanted to...”

  “Molly,” Dev interrupted, “shall we go up to my room?”

  “Sure.” She looked at Zack. “Come on, we can talk better up there.”

  Dev stepped aside to allow them both to pass him and thought how bizarre this would look to an outsider. They trooped up the stairs to his room, each wondering about the other. Dev was puzzled by Molly’s attitude, she seemed so excited when she saw Zack, but he didn’t want to ask questions; knowing how he felt about Molly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answers she might have for him. Molly for her part was staggered by the change in Zack. He had gone from the surly, morose boy to someone almost bursting with a nervous energy and he looked pleased to see her. She couldn’t wait to tell him what she’d found out and now she was beginning to think that it would be met wi
th the same awe and delight that she had felt herself. Zack followed Molly and watched how Dev looked at her over his shoulder and how she looked back at him and he wondered what their relationship was. He hoped it was what he thought, because he knew now that more than anything else, he wanted Molly to be happy.

  They reached the top of the staircase and Dev turned right towards his room. He stopped when he saw that she wasn’t following him.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked her.

  “Nothing,” Molly said, “I just want a word with Zack in private, that’s all. Can you leave us outside for a moment?”

  Dev opened the door to his room. He glanced back at Molly.

  Zack said; “Molly, can’t it wait? I really do have something important to say. I’ve discovered something that you both really need to hear.”

  Molly shrugged. “OK.” She glanced at Dev, covering her disappointment and followed him into the room.

  In the room, Dev settled himself into a chair; Molly sat on the edge of the bed – fiddling with the hem of her jumper, tense with unexplained anxiety - and Zack remained standing, taking centre stage and pacing the room, his progress followed only by Molly. Slowly, nervously at first but then with more conviction borne of mounting confidence, he began to tell them both all that he had seen and heard.

  Dev, unable to see or hear Zack kept glancing over at Molly, who gasped and looked appalled as Zack unveiled each new piece of information – and she had to relay back to Dev each new detail that Zack told her. Zack moved through everything bit by bit; the terrifying revelation that the North Koreans were building a bomb from dark matter, his second near death experience where he was almost sucked into some kind of strange device – both drew horrified gasps and looks from Dev and Molly – how he was saved by thinking about Molly; which drew a mystified look from Dev, but a spark of recognition from Molly.