there. Face to face with him, either side. They had baseball caps on, pulled down tight over their eyes. Shellsuit jackets with the collars turned up. Trainers and jeans. Similar clothes to before, just different logos. Both Caucasian. Well built. Tall and wide. The sort you wouldn’t fuck with even if you had to. Fists clenched. Features obscured by the caps and turned-up collars. He couldn’t see their eyes. Just their mouths. Sharp teeth, pursed lips, violence brewing. He glanced about. The rest of the car park was empty.
‘What do you want?’ he asked.
They said nothing.
‘Have you been sending me emails and letters?’
Silence.
‘You followed me here yesterday. Why?’
Again, there was no response.
James turned over his hand. ‘Here, take the keys. The car’s yours.’
A slap knocked the keys to the floor. A trainer ground them into the stones.
‘I don’t know what you’re after, but—’
James didn’t get to finish the sentence. The air was knocked out of him. A blow to the solar plexus which left him gasping, bent over, fighting for breath. In his line of sight, their trainers remained rooted to the spot. Adrenalin was kicking in. It mingled with the cold airlessness in his lungs. His heartbeat thumped in his temples, his muscles tightened and swelled.
James straightened bit by bit. They stood motionless, arms folded, effectively pinning him against his car. Their caps were lowered, their eyes still hidden, just the bottom halves of their faces visible. James’s brain was racing. What did they want? What were they going to do to him? He examined what he could see of their faces, trying to memorize the shape of their teeth, the width of their jaws, the colour of their stubble. A bad feeling in his stomach told him things were going to get worse.
‘Look—’
From nowhere, a punch in the kidneys. He rocked to the side. Another punch caught him full in the guts. He cried out. A glancing blow caught him on the ribs. He pulled his hands up to protect his face, and a fist pounded his sternum. James staggered against his car. He held on to it to stop himself from falling. His lungs fought for breath. They were utterly in control, and they knew it.
James lifted his head. They had taken a step back. Their arms were by their sides. He scanned the car park. Nothing.
‘What do you want?’ he asked again, through broken breaths.
The two men glanced at each other. And then one of them spoke. It was a low growl, just loud enough to be heard.
‘You’ll see,’ he said.
They turned and walked away, towards the barriers and out of the car park. James slumped against his Golf, their words ringing in his ears, his ribs heaving in agony with each breath.
13
DR MINA ALI ran her fingernail down the laptop screen. As she did so, numbers and figures distorted momentarily, a trail of deformation where her nail pressed into the plastic. It made her feel that she was involved somehow, that the databases housed in mainframe computers in the basement of GeneCrime were organic and could be touched, that their patterns and statistics could be altered by human interaction.
Mina glanced up as Judith Meadows entered the lab, buttoning her lab coat tight over the bulge in her torso. Mina checked the clock. It was just after four. Prime coffee-break time for the scientists and technicians working the nine-to-six shift. She called out to Judith, unsure of quite what she was going to say.
Judith changed direction and headed over. ‘Yes, boss?’ she asked, her quiet, demure face enlivened by a twinkle in her eye.
‘Judith – I can trust you, right?’ Mina asked.
‘Sure.’
‘I mean, this is a big place, and things aren’t always as straightforward as you hope. People spying on people, et cetera. You and Reuben go right back. And Reuben never hangs out with people he doesn’t trust implicitly. As a matter of protocol.’
‘I guess so.’
‘Some would say as a matter of the pathological. You know …’
‘What do you want?’ he asked.
They said nothing.
‘Have you been sending me emails and letters?’
Silence.
‘You followed me here yesterday. Why?’
Again, there was no response.
James turned over his hand. ‘Here, take the keys. The car’s yours.’
A slap knocked the keys to the floor. A trainer ground them into the stones.
‘I don’t know what you’re after, but—’
James didn’t get to finish the sentence. The air was knocked out of him. A blow to the solar plexus which left him gasping, bent over, fighting for breath. In his line of sight, their trainers remained rooted to the spot. Adrenalin was kicking in. It mingled with the cold airlessness in his lungs. His heartbeat thumped in his temples, his muscles tightened and swelled.
James straightened bit by bit. They stood motionless, arms folded, effectively pinning him against his car. Their caps were lowered, their eyes still hidden, just the bottom halves of their faces visible. James’s brain was racing. What did they want? What were they going to do to him? He examined what he could see of their faces, trying to memorize the shape of their teeth, the width of their jaws, the colour of their stubble. A bad feeling in his stomach told him things were going to get worse.
‘Look—’
From nowhere, a punch in the kidneys. He rocked to the side. Another punch caught him full in the guts. He cried out. A glancing blow caught him on the ribs. He pulled his hands up to protect his face, and a fist pounded his sternum. James staggered against his car. He held on to it to stop himself from falling. His lungs fought for breath. They were utterly in control, and they knew it.
James lifted his head. They had taken a step back. Their arms were by their sides. He scanned the car park. Nothing.
‘What do you want?’ he asked again, through broken breaths.
The two men glanced at each other. And then one of them spoke. It was a low growl, just loud enough to be heard.
‘You’ll see,’ he said.
They turned and walked away, towards the barriers and out of the car park. James slumped against his Golf, their words ringing in his ears, his ribs heaving in agony with each breath.
13
DR MINA ALI ran her fingernail down the laptop screen. As she did so, numbers and figures distorted momentarily, a trail of deformation where her nail pressed into the plastic. It made her feel that she was involved somehow, that the databases housed in mainframe computers in the basement of GeneCrime were organic and could be touched, that their patterns and statistics could be altered by human interaction.
Mina glanced up as Judith Meadows entered the lab, buttoning her lab coat tight over the bulge in her torso. Mina checked the clock. It was just after four. Prime coffee-break time for the scientists and technicians working the nine-to-six shift. She called out to Judith, unsure of quite what she was going to say.
Judith changed direction and headed over. ‘Yes, boss?’ she asked, her quiet, demure face enlivened by a twinkle in her eye.
‘Judith – I can trust you, right?’ Mina asked.
‘Sure.’
‘I mean, this is a big place, and things aren’t always as straightforward as you hope. People spying on people, et cetera. You and Reuben go right back. And Reuben never hangs out with people he doesn’t trust implicitly. As a matter of protocol.’
‘I guess so.’
‘Some would say as a matter of the pathological. You know …’
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