2041 Sanctuary (Dark Descent) (17 page)

‘Quiet down now, people!’ A man’s voice rang out over a speaker system into the large oval chamber. The assembled masses, which Sarah estimated now numbered a few thousand strong, settled into a respectful silence. Sarah looked expectantly, along with everyone else around her, towards some kind of command centre, where a broad-shouldered man stood on a large platform. He wore a simple white shirt, blue tie and plain black trousers. His silver-grey hair and demeanour intimated seniority, while his voice left it in no doubt that he expected, nay, demanded, your attention.

‘Now listen up,’ he said, ‘as ever it’s my pleasure to provide some words of wisdom to all of you taking a trip out into our fair Sanctuary. Many of you will have heard them before, but equally there are many of you still green around the gills who will need reminding of the dangers you are about to face outside of this base. You all have the potential to come up against situations which even the most experienced among you will never have encountered. Safety is paramount, people; if you discover something that looks dangerous, it probably is. We have no idea what you will stumble upon out there and if the human race is anything to go by, our older and larger cousins may have left behind some pretty nasty stuff.

‘Ensure all personal gauges and detectors are checked regularly. Seismometers and structural stability maps for all teams except Deep Reach are to be adhered to at all times. No exceptions. Always keep in radio contact with your teammates; due to the rock composition many parts of Sanctuary Proper will limit long range transmissions. If you get in trouble don’t be afraid to call for help; egos will get you dead down there very quickly.

‘Make sure you double check your kit before you disembark; most of you will be gone for a few weeks and you may need your emergency supplies when you least expect it, so no trying to lighten your pack by taking out things you
think
are non-essential. As ever, as far as our signal relays will permit, rescue and decontamination teams will be on standby in the field to respond to any distress beacons.’

The man looked at his watch. ‘It’s eleven hundred hours. We are a go for deployment at thirteen hundred. Make ready and good luck!’

The crowd began breaking apart and Sarah found herself standing on her own in the middle of the room. She turned to walk away, but as she did so a hand grasped her left wrist. Looking to see who had accosted her, Sarah peered up into the dark brown eyes of the Deep Reach team member who had held her gaze back in the museum.

‘Hi there,’ he said with a smile, but still holding firmly to her arm. ‘Are you lost?’

Sarah, feeling like a wild animal trapped in a cage, managed to produce a confident sounding laugh at the suggestion. ‘No, not at all.’ She brandished her folder. ‘Just taking some notes.’

‘Really?’ He looked amused and proffered a hand. ‘Do you mind if I take a look?’

‘Of course,’ she said, while inwardly cursing her stupidity for thinking she could walk in and out of such a facility without getting caught.

Releasing his grip he plucked the folder from her hands and opened it up to peruse. Sarah, now free to make a dash for it, stood frozen to the spot. As she waited with bated breath her tormentor continued to read the folder.

‘So,’ he said at last looking up at her, his annoying smile still plastered across his handsome features. ‘I can’t see any notes in here about the final debrief before the off, just some computations on thermodynamics.’

Sarah had no idea what was actually in the file apart from some odd diagrams and meaningless numbers; thankfully he’d slipped up and revealed to her its contents –
what an idiot
.

She tapped her temple. ‘It’s all up here. I was just about to write it all down before you interrupted me.’

‘Ah, how silly of me.’ He passed the folder back to her. ‘I’ll let you get back to your physics.’

‘Thank you,’ she said with what she hoped was a conciliatory tone, ‘those computations won’t get done on their own.’

Sarah turned and walked away, while her mind screamed at her to run. As she reached an exit – thanking her lucky stars she’d managed to blag her way out of such a tight spot – his voice called out to her from behind.

‘Just one more thing.’

Sarah paused and looked back round.

He walked towards her, closing the gap between them. ‘It’s strange,’ he gestured to the ring binder in her hand, ‘that file contains the food supply logistics for the mapping teams. There’s nothing in it on thermodynamics.’

Sarah’s anxiety resurfaced and she stood looking at him, desperately trying to think of a plausible defence. ‘I must have picked up the wrong folder,’ she said, the lie sounding lame even to her own ears.

‘Ah, is that the reason.’ He moved closer to invade her personal space. ‘Didn’t I just see you back in the museum?’

‘I think you must have me confused with someone else.’

‘I don’t think so. Can I see you MF card, please?’

Reluctantly Sarah removed the card from her pocket and gave it to him.

‘Ah, so you work in the Smithsonian,’ he said, looking at the card before handing it back. ‘It seems, however, you have but a lowly level one clearance, and since this outfit requires seven or above, you most definitely don’t belong.’

Sarah didn’t know what to say, so she decided to say nothing at all as she tried to avoid his penetrating gaze.

‘Do you know the punishment for being down here without clearance?’ he asked, more serious now. ‘No?’ he continued when she still didn’t respond. ‘I’ll tell you what; instead of calling in the military to arrest you right now, I’ll give you a three minute head start on them. Sound fair?’

Sarah gawked at him, unsure if he was being serious or not.

‘Clock’s ticking, Sarah Morgan.’ He tapped a watch on his wrist. ‘Two minutes fifty-five – fifty-four – fifty-three—’

Sarah, realising he was giving her chance to get away, bolted down a corridor while throwing away the incriminating folder. Flying up some stairs, she dodged in and out of people, startling many of them as she flew past. Within a minute she’d flung open the old iron door and ran down the brick tunnel. Already she could hear signs of pursuit; it seemed the three minute head start had been rescinded. Too bent on escape, she had little time to curse the man who’d blown her cover. Instead she tapped furiously at the up button in the lift she’d just boarded. Shouting could be heard now and as the lift moved upwards Sarah caught sight of armed men swarming down the tunnel towards her.

Sinking to her knees to catch her breath, Sarah tried to remember the winding route back to the museum for when she exited the lift. Unable to recall it, she prepared to run again, massaging her injured knee, which throbbed painfully. The platform jolted to a stop and the barriers rose up. Sarah was out and running, her long legs propelling her round a corner to collide with a soldier approaching from the opposite direction. As they tumbled to the ground, the soldier let out a shout of alarm. Sarah, quicker to her feet, scrambled away, but another soldier appeared in front of her.

‘Halt!’ he shouted, bringing his assault rifle to bear.

Skidding to a stop, her hands gaining purchase on the floor, Sarah turned to go back, but as she did so she glimpsed the other man, she’d just sent flying, behind her. The raised butt of his gun snapped down in a jarring jab to her temple. Lights flashed before her eyes and she crumpled to the floor, a deep blackness engulfing her with its inescapable smothering embrace.

Chapter Nine

London’s St Pancras International railway station, conceived in 1863 and completed by 1868, had at the time boasted the largest enclosed space in the world. Now fronted by the St Pancras Renaissance Hotel, a Victorian gothic architectural masterpiece, the station acted as the city’s land-based gateway into Europe and due to this, as ever, it pulsated with vibrant activity. Businessmen and women strode with purpose and an assured air of self-importance as they sought their destination with a determined focus. Students and school children, while mirroring their elders’ self-involved demeanour, seemed more haphazard in their progress through the station, more relaxed and less stressed, taking time to cavort with their companions or to pause and ensure their favourite tune played over their headphones.

Tourists, still ready and willing to travel despite the strict GMRC protocols, stood in small, excited and bewildered groups like clusters of pebbles surrounded by a continuous flowing stream of water. Like all other areas of the city a military presence made itself known as armed soldiers stalked the platforms and guarded entrances and exits, ensuring civil unrest would be met with a swift and fierce resistance if it dared to rear its ugly head.

Amongst the hither and thither of the station’s patrons, a petite woman gazed up at the departures board. She wore a short, black, heavy weave plaid skirt, thick white thigh length socks and a pair of chunky black leather ankle boots. On her back perched a turquoise rucksack which resembled some kind of furry animal with huge eyes and a surprised expression on its face, beneath which a tight transparent padded jacket had been secured. A shock of bright red hair topped off the woman’s ensemble, along with a pair of thick, black, horn-rimmed glasses.

Jessica Klein pursed her lips, the skin feeling tight as she did so. She’d almost forgone the makeup, as once she had kitted herself out in her ridiculous outfit she hadn’t recognised herself in the mirror. However, the passport photo Martin had mocked up for her required the addition, so she had plastered it on. She’d needed quite a bit of foundation anyway – passing off middle-age as early twenties was always an ask – but she was quite pleased with the results. A slim frame helped with the impression of youth, of course, and Jessica had always been slight.

She didn’t have long to wait for the train to Berlin. According to the timetable, which scrolled across the departure screen, the Eurostar was on schedule. Taking out the train ticket, Jessica hobbled to the gate entrance for the appropriate platform.
These shoes are killing me
, she thought.
Why I decided platforms were a good idea, heaven only knows. They add to my wanna-be-Japanese appearance, though, so I can live with it for now, but as soon as I get settled for the journey they’re coming off – quick smart!

There was one thing about her costume that Jessica did like, the anonymity it gave her; normally in public she would draw the classic double take as people recognised her from the television; some would even spark up a conversation with her out of the blue or ask for an autograph or picture. While she didn’t mind now and then, it could begin to grate when it continued throughout a whole day. Now, however, she could walk around incognito; it felt quite liberating in a peculiar kind of way.

Standing in a short queue as she waited for the ticket to be checked, she couldn’t help but follow the movements of the soldiers as they patrolled the area beyond. She was acutely aware she was travelling A, illegally, and B, armed. Her cherished and loaded revolver even now nestled in the bag perched on her back, its dense weight, along with that of the extra ammo, noticeable as it pulled against the straps of the bag on her shoulders. The closer she came to the turnstile the clammier her hands became, her nerves taut and her fear of discovery growing.

She double-checked the GMRC border pass, which also acted as a travel order, and which she’d had stamped upon entry to the station. The pass allowed her to circumvent usual security checks, fast-tracking her through the otherwise tiresome boarding procedure; it had also enabled her to bring the gun with her, a risk she had to take considering her circumstances. She just prayed a spot bag check wasn’t instigated when she passed through.

Her new name, Eliza Sterling, had been scrawled across the top of the border pass in what she hoped was an adequate disguise of her normal handwriting. Not that she should need to hide this aspect of her real identity, but with her producer’s untimely death and the warning from the hacker that the GMRC might try to kill her off, her paranoia was sky-high.

As she stepped forward, the queue growing shorter, she felt a hand brush against her bottom. Turning round, she saw the man standing directly behind her looking off to one side. Frowning at him, she turned back only to once more feel a hand on her behind, this time lingering longer and accompanied by a slight squeeze.

Jessica whirled round. ‘What do you think you’re playing at?!’

The man, dressed in a suit and in his mid-forties, looked at her, innocent-eyed.

She pointed at him. ‘Touch me again and I’ll report you for sexual assault.’

‘I didn’t touch you,’ he protested.

She took a step closer and stared up at him with baleful eyes. ‘Don’t take me for some naïve little girl.’

Unfortunately her confrontational approach didn’t have the desired effect and the man, instead of backing off, had the audacity to reach out again sliding his hand up the outside of her exposed thigh. Jessica smacked it away but it was too late as the quarrel had attracted the attention of a soldier.

‘What seems to be the problem here?’ the armed guard asked.

Jessica cursed inwardly and prayed no one would recognise her. ‘This man is harassing me,’ she said loudly making people look round in their direction, ‘touching me inappropriately.’

‘I didn’t touch her,’ the groper repeated.

‘We can soon find out.’ The soldier indicated the CCTV dome which protruded from the high ceiling above. ‘Do you want to take this further, miss?’

As much as she would have liked to, she didn’t have the time or the inclination to bring more eyes upon them, especially considering her predicament. ‘No,’ she said, her tone reluctant. ‘I have a train to catch.’

The guard nodded and sauntered off, leaving her in the queue with the man who now smiled at her with sickening smugness.

‘Just because I didn’t report you doesn’t mean I want you to keep touching me,’ she told him in no uncertain terms, keeping her distance from his wandering hands.