Apocalypse (7 page)

The apartment was tiny, a narrow hall leading to a functional kitchen at one end that backed on to a shower stall and latrine. To the left and right of the hall were doorways to the lounge and
bedroom.

‘It’s the lounge you’ll want to see,’ Sears directed him.

Ethan turned right and walked in to see a tired-looking but clean room adorned with a coffee table and couch, a wall-mounted television and a tall mirror on the wall at the rear. As he walked in
and turned to survey the room, he froze in place and stared at the back wall.

‘See what I mean?’ Sears asked.

Across the wall was scrawled a message, written with a thick black marker.

‘Jesus.’

Lopez stared at the message as she joined them in the room.

‘Charles Purcell told me to come here immediately,’ Sears explained to Ethan as they stood looking at the message. ‘He told me that I must contact you. He kept insisting that
time was of the essence and that if I didn’t do what he was asking, the killers of his family would never be brought to justice.’

Ethan found himself still transfixed by the scrawled message on the wall.

‘Today is June 28,’ he said.

‘Yup,’ Sears confirmed. ‘Whatever that time means, it’s referring to something that hasn’t happened yet. Given what Charles Purcell has managed to do so far, my
guess is that he’s completely lost his mind and that this is all some kind of goddamn freak show that he’s arranged, all based around him. Most killers are severely narcissistic and
display exactly this kind of behavior.’

‘Like I said,’ Lopez nodded, ‘this is the start of his game and it’s all about him. He’s the star, we’re the audience, and he’ll continue to crave more
and more attention right up to the moment he’s captured or gets himself killed.’

Ethan looked at Sears.

‘Except for the fact that he did accurately predict the future, right?’

‘He did,’ Sears conceded. ‘That part, I got no explanation for.’

‘Anything else?’ Ethan asked.

‘The opposite wall,’ Sears said, and gestured behind them. ‘We haven’t got a clue what the hell it means.’

Ethan turned and strode across to the window, pulling aside threadbare net curtains to reveal another message written on the wall just above the window pane in small, precise strokes.

‘Looks like some kind of equation written backwards,’ Lopez said as she moved alongside Ethan and peered at the strange symbols. ‘Same person wrote both
messages?’

‘Purcell was a physicist,’ Ethan suggested. ‘He’d have spent much of his life using math. It fits his history, if nothing else.’

‘You actually know what it means?’ Sears asked.

‘Not in the slightest,’ Ethan admitted. ‘And how did he know I would come here at all?’

Sears smiled but it was tinged with anxiety.

‘I got a letter this morning, sent by UPS, from Charles Purcell. It had a picture of you, taken off a website from your old high school in Illinois. It helped us track you down, and
that’s how your man at the Defense Intelligence Agency got involved. We called the FBI when we realized that we were getting out of our depth. They wrote us off, but the DIA picked up the
case.’

Sears slipped a print from his pocket and showed it to Ethan. The image showed a young man in his late teens, his light-brown hair still scruffy despite having been combed for the shot, his gray
eyes clear and sharp. Ethan’s jaw looked slightly leaner than it did now, and the creases etched into his skin by years of physical and mental hardship were missing, but there was no
mistaking the defiant set of his shoulders and the crooked grin on his face.

‘You were actually almost cute once,’ Lopez said, with a smirk. ‘The hell happened?’

‘Life,’ Ethan replied. ‘This code must mean something. Why did he write a huge message for me on that wall, but then conceal a tiny one over here?’

‘Either the guy’s crazy or he’s just trying to buy himself time to get away,’ Lopez replied. ‘By the time we’re finished decoding this, even if that’s
possible, Purcell could be clean out of the state.’

Ethan shook his head.

‘He could have been clean out of the state without doing
any
of this. He’s leaving us messages, leaving us a trail.’

‘Why leave anything?’ Lopez asked. ‘And why us? Why you? You’ve never met this guy. Surely if he’d wanted private detectives on his case he’d have contacted
someone in Florida instead, somebody nearby?’

Ethan nodded in agreement but could find nothing to say that could explain Charles Purcell’s bizarre actions.

‘My guess,’ Sears said, ‘is that he’s suffered some kind of mental breakdown and all of this is the result of his illness. Until I’m convinced otherwise, I’m
putting out an APB for this guy as a wanted murderer. We need him off the streets and in custody because we can’t risk the chance that he won’t hit some other family just like
he’s iced his own. Believe me, once these freaks really lose the plot, anyone and anything is fair game.’

Sears headed out of the lounge to leave the apartment. As Ethan turned to follow, his gaze settled on the mirror hanging on the wall opposite the window. He focused on the reflection of the room
around them and then a smile curled from the corner of his mouth.

‘Maybe Charles Purcell knows
exactly
what he’s doing.’

June 28, 09:24

‘Do we know what happened to our aircraft.’

Joaquin Abell kept his voice down, not wanting his children to hear the news that Sandra had related to him.

‘We chartered a Grumman Mallard from Bimini Wings to bring home our staff from their work on the coral-conservation project in the Florida Straits. It went down late yesterday afternoon.
No mayday call from the pilots, radar contact was lost by Miami at seven twenty. Search and Rescue haven’t found a thing.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me sooner?’ Joaquin stared at her.

‘I was waiting for confirmation from the coastguard before I broke the news,’ Sandra said. ‘I didn’t want to bring this to you until I was sure.’

Joaquin massaged his temples, his eyes closed. ‘How many people were aboard?’

‘Nineteen, including the two pilots.’

‘Jesus,’ Joaquin whispered, ‘the poor families. Get in touch with all of them, I’ll want to speak to them in person and reassure them that we’ll stand by them. IRIS
is a family, Sandra, and I want them to know that they’re members too.’ Sandra nodded and jotted down notes as Joaquin spoke. ‘Then contact the families’ litigation teams
and let them know that appropriate compensation will be provided, regardless of whether IRIS is considered legally responsible for the loss of life, understood?’

Sandra finished scribbling and looked up at him, a flourish of admiration on her features.

‘Absolutely, sir. I’ll get on it right away. At least it seems there may be a survivor from the conservation project, that’s something that we can take away from this
tragedy.’

Joaquin’s eyes fixed on hers. ‘Who?’

‘Charles Purcell, one of our lead scientists. His name was absent from the aircraft’s departure roster at South Bimini. He can’t have been aboard.’

‘Excellent news, Sandra. See if you can find Charles and let me know the moment that you do.’

Joaquin watched as Sandra dashed away, and then walked across to his wife. Katherine was now accompanied by a short, pale-looking man with baleful eyes that peered out from behind thin glasses.
Dennis Aubrey was a lifelong friend of Katherine, a physicist who had attended the University of Florida as she had. Just as she had grown to become a powerful lawyer, so Aubrey had grown alongside
her from a shy, plump little boy into a physics genius, sought after by some of the most prestigious laboratories and universities in the continental United States. Joaquin had recently hired
Aubrey, always preferring to appoint family friends to his organization rather than cast his net and take on potentially unreliable employees. People tended to work better for their friends than
for anonymous corporations, and despite its size he had worked hard to make IRIS a family and not just an employer.

‘Mr. Abell,’ Aubrey said in greeting. ‘Katherine tells me that the news broadcast went well.’

Joaquin nodded with a brief but weary smile. ‘Let’s hope it garners support in Congress and the funding we’ll need out here.’

Katherine reacted to the shadows of restrained grief that drifted behind his eyes, and immediately moved to his side. ‘What is it?’

Joaquin whispered so that Jacob and Merriel would not hear.

‘There’s been an accident and I need to deal with it personally,’ he said. ‘Why not take the children back to the airport? I’ll meet you in Miami after we’ve
surveyed the island.’

‘You sure?’ she asked, concerned but not alarmed.

‘It’ll be fine,’ Joaquin assured her, and gestured to Dennis Aubrey, who was chatting amiably to the children. ‘You sure he’s able to lip-read?’

Katherine chuckled. ‘Of course, his brother is deaf so he learned sign-language and lip-reading as a child. I still don’t understand why you need a scientist working for you who can
lip-read?’

‘Communications,’ Joaquin replied. ‘Sometimes we have issues with equipment on the conservation projects and we only have visual and not audio.’ He waved for Aubrey to
join them. ‘Dennis, something’s come up. You okay to accompany me before we head back to Miami?’

‘Not a problem,’ Aubrey agreed, clearly eager to please.

Katherine kissed his cheek. ‘Talk to me,’ she said quickly. ‘Whatever this is about, don’t keep trying to save the world on your own, okay?’

She turned and led their children away from the shattered remains of the school and down to the white jeep waiting for them. Joaquin watched as they were driven away down a hill littered with
debris that wound its way to a distant, broad bay.

‘This way, Dennis,’ he said to Aubrey.

Joaquin turned and walked further up the hill with the physicist to where the helicopter waited. Standing alongside it with his arms folded was a tall, powerfully built man in an expensive suit
that did little to conceal the ranks of muscles bulging through the fabric. Olaf Jorgenson, Joaquin’s personal bodyguard, watched them approach and then turned and rapped on the cockpit
window. The pilot inside immediately started the helicopter’s engines.

‘What’s happened?’ Aubrey asked Joaquin as they walked. ‘Something urgent?’

‘Yes, I’m afraid so,’ Joaquin replied. ‘You’ve just been promoted to head scientist at the IRIS Deep Blue facility on the Miami Terrace reef.’

Dennis Aubrey’s round face broke into a bright smile as his pasty skin glowed with a brief flourish of color.

‘That’s fantastic news.’ His expression sagged slightly. ‘You don’t seem very happy about it.’

‘I’m afraid that your promotion is due to a tragedy, Dennis. There was an airplane crash yesterday afternoon. I lost my entire Deep Blue staff.’

Aubrey’s skin dulled again to its familiar wan tones.

‘My God, I’m sorry. Do we know what happened?’

Joaquin shook his head.

‘I’m sorry that this promotion hasn’t occurred under better circumstances, Dennis,’ he said. ‘But I need your help. It will take some time to find replacement
staff, and between now and then I need somebody reliable to man the Deep Blue facility. It might entail you being on the site for a few days, until I can get everything sorted.’

Aubrey grabbed the helicopter’s door handle and opened it for Joaquin.

‘Consider it done,’ he promised. ‘When do we leave for the facility?’

‘We’re headed for Miami right now,’ Joaquin said. ‘You’ll join me at the facility as soon as I’ve tied up some loose ends in the city.’

Olaf Jorgenson joined them inside the helicopter, as did Sandra, her red hair flying in the downwash from the spinning blades, until Olaf’s giant arm slammed the fuselage door shut. The
four of them donned headphones, and Aubrey’s voice cut through the static.

‘What about Katherine and the children? Will they be joining us?’

‘Katherine is due to lead the defense for IRIS at the opening of a court case in Miami this morning,’ Joaquin explained, ‘and won’t be able to join us until later.
We’ll have to make do until then. The children will be in school for the week.’

The helicopter lifted off, the downwash from the blades shuddering through the palm trees below as it flew low over the battered shanty towns. Joaquin looked out across the crippled island as it
swept past beneath the helicopter, a barren and mud-strewn wasteland of misery and despair. Tiny figures stared up at him, their bare legs ankle-deep in cold mud, their clothes smeared with filth
and their eyes wide with shock and disbelief, haunted by the loss of their families and homes.

Joaquin felt a burden of responsibility weigh down on him, strong enough that it seemed it could send the helicopter in which he sat plunging back down to earth. One man, one company, one chance
to make a difference. Most people lived under a comfortable illusion that the whole world was now connected, that all people had some idea of what technology was, had access to medicine, had a
chance in life. The truth was that only one fifth of the world’s population lived in the developed world. Half of all the people on earth had never made or received a telephone call. The vast
majority of mankind had little or no access to clean water. Several hundred million children died every decade from easily preventable diseases or starvation. And all the while politicians in
designer suits, chauffeured in cars that cost more than many people would earn in several lifetimes, attended huge conferences and told the world how much better it all would soon be. How much they
were doing to help. How much brighter the future was.