The Secret Prophecy (22 page)

“Was fiction,” his father said.

“And the new leader of Section 7, the one who ordered your people assassinated . . . ?”

“Was your old friend Victor. I’m sorry, Em; I know you trusted him. But you mustn’t feel bad about that. He is an expert in the art of deception.”

“What have you done with him?” Em asked stonily.

“Our security people are holding him here for questioning.”

And after that?
Em wanted to ask. But something stopped him.

Chapter 44

T
he guided tour of the Bederbeck facility was bizarre. Em’s earlier impression of a small town was strongly reinforced; but now he saw it almost as a small town from the future, with science-fiction touches such as segments of motor-driven walkways leading to the major buildings and robotic voices responding to swipe card security. The office towers weren’t particularly high by American standards, but high enough to British eyes. Everything looked eerily clean, as if it had only just been built. There were gigantic storage tanks attached to the lower-slung warren of laboratories and manufacturing plants. (Em assumed they were for fuel until his father explained that many pharmaceuticals were based on petrochemicals nowadays.) But what really got to Em was the reaction to his father and himself.

Although they used electric-driven pods from time to time, most of the tour was on foot, accompanied by an entourage his father hadn’t felt the need to explain. Em worked out that one was a secretary, another a personal assistant. A young man in a neat linen suit might be some sort of communications officer—all he seemed to do was talk on a cell phone and whisper messages into Dad’s ear. Two others could only be security. They were pressed from the same mold as the characters who had brought Em in: beefy men in shades and suits.

“This is our research division,” his father said as they entered another busy building; and once again Em couldn’t help but notice the reaction. His father wasn’t treated like a UK visitor. His father was treated like God. Or at least like the company president. Staff members rushed to greet him, fussed to help him. He seemed to be able to go anywhere he wanted, demand to see anyone he wished. Yet even the idea of a big boss didn’t quite explain it. Many members of the staff looked at him with expressions that bordered on awe; and not just junior staff either. Em noticed the odd reaction sometimes extended to himself, presumably because he was his father’s son, although in his case the expressions showed curiosity rather than respect.

The tour ended at a low-slung residential building set well away from the remainder of the facility behind a screen of trees. Em took in the manicured lawns and swimming pool at a single glance. “Wow!”

“Home sweet home,” his father said, clearly pleased by his reaction. “Bit better than we had in England, but no harm in that. Okay, Em, this is where we’re living for the duration of our stay, and this is where I leave you for the moment—some things I need to see to.” He handed Em a plastic swipe card with a delicate eye-in-pyramid hologram embossed in one corner. “The doors are all self-locking, but this will let you in. It’ll also let you in anywhere you want to go in the rest of the foundation, although, obviously I’d want you to avoid the high-security danger areas; there are a few of them in the facility, but they’re all clearly marked. It also doubles as a cash card. You can use it to pay for meals or anything else you need to buy here. Try not to bankrupt me on your first day if you can possibly avoid it.”

They walked slowly together toward the front door. Em noticed that the entourage hung back, as if entering holy ground, although they were probably just tactfully giving his father and himself a little private time.

“You didn’t get any sleep last night,” his father said. “You must be exhausted. I’d suggest you get your head down for a few hours now. You’ll find everything you need in your room: change of clothes, pajamas . . .” He smiled suddenly. “You’ll know your room because it has your name on the door. I’ll join you for dinner.”

Tired though he was, Em still had a hundred questions, but his father was already walking away. Em made his way to the door and swiped his new card through the security system. “Welcome home, Edward Michael,” said a robotic voice; and the door swung open.

The place was
incredible.
Especially compared to what he was used to back in England
.
He quickly discovered that the whole house was computerized. Spoken commands worked lights and curtains, a massive flat-screen television in the living room, a stereo system, internet-linked computer screens in what he took to be an office, and when he reached his bedroom, every drawer in the room and his wardrobe doors. The really cool thing was that his commands were acknowledged
by name.
Lights on, Edward Michael . . . Drawer open, Edward Michael.
When he finally found the operating manual on a coffee table in a lounge, the introduction explained that the system was keyed to the personal swipe cards of the occupants. While he carried his card, the house was his. If he left it behind, nothing worked at all. In fact, he wouldn’t even manage to get in. He flicked through the remainder of the manual and noticed with real satisfaction that it was possible to change the “Edward Michael” salutation
,
although you needed a special card reader attached to your computer to do it. He made a mental note to ask his father about that later.

His father’s advice about getting some sleep made a lot of sense, but Em was too excited to take it. He explored a kitchen that looked like the control center at NASA. He dipped his toes into the pool and promised himself a swim. He stood outside the door of his parents’ bedroom for a moment—both their names were on the plaque—then opened it with a vague sensation of guilt. To his surprise the room had a Spartan feel, as if nobody had moved in. Which his mother hadn’t, of course, since she hadn’t reached the States yet: maybe his father was waiting for her to set up things the way she wanted. He’d never really cared much about his surroundings.

Em returned to his own room and threw himself fully clothed onto the bed. What was happening was incredible. All of it. His father was alive. His mother was flying in. They were all living in this astonishing—

Em woke with a start to the sound of voices. For a moment he lay, wondering where on earth he was, then remembered the fantastic events of the day. He swung his feet onto the floor. His bedroom door was open, and the voices were floating in from the direction of the living room. When he went to investigate, he found the living room a hive of activity. His father was shouting orders at two harassed Mexican workers who were struggling to move in a new sofa. Behind him, Em could see his father’s best friend, Tom Peterson, looking unaccountably nervous. And beside Tom, incredibly, was Charlotte. There was an odd warning expression on her face as she caught his eye and mouthed something he couldn’t quite make out. But the overall meaning was clear enough:
say nothing—I’ll explain later.

“Hello, Charlotte. Hello, Tom,” Em muttered numbly. Tom looked as if he wanted to say something, but he stopped.

“They’re joining us for dinner,” his father said cheerfully. “Isn’t that nice?”

It was more than an hour before he got the chance to speak with Charlotte privately. By then Tom and Em’s father had disappeared together, muttering something about a meeting. Charlotte had left the house a little earlier, but he found her beside the pool. She’d changed into a two-piece swimsuit.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Em demanded. “What’s your father doing here?”

To his surprise, she quickly placed one finger to her lips, shook her head, and whispered, “Not here.” She was searching in the pocket of a fleecy robe that was flung over the back of her lounger. She threw him what seemed to be a warning glance as she pulled out a small notebook and scrawled something on it with a tiny pen. She tore the page out and handed it to him, then threw the robe across her shoulders and stood up.

Em stared at the note.

Microphones. Shut up. Walk with me.

Em opened his mouth to say something, then looked at her, decided she was serious, and closed it again. She pushed her feet into open sandals and marched off without a word, fastening her robe as she did so. He followed obediently.

They ended up in the belt of trees that screened the house. It was only yards thick; but once in the shade, it felt like entering a wood. Charlotte stopped and pulled him toward her and lowered her voice. “They have microphones throughout the house and directional microphones that can pick up anything said around the pool. Daddy told me. I don’t think they can hear us here.”

“Who can’t hear us?”

“The security people. Your father. Anybody.”

Em’s head was in turmoil and had been since he’d first set eyes on her. When Victor had said Tom was coming to collect her, Em had assumed he would take her back to England. The question was, how much did Charlotte know about the Knights? The
real
question was, how long had Charlotte known it?

“Did you know my father was alive?” Em blurted. He’d been experiencing a turbulent mix of feelings since everyone arrived. First his father’s miraculous reappearance after Em had watched his coffin being lowered into his grave. Then the news that he was an official of the dreaded Knights of Themis, swiftly followed by the realization that the Knights weren’t so dreaded after all. Now this. He had to know where Charlotte fit in.

“Not until we arrived in Arizona,” Charlotte said urgently. “I swear it. I thought we were going home. Daddy only told me where we were actually headed just before we boarded the plane.”

“Did he tell you about the Knights of Themis?”

“Not at first. He was absolutely furious about my kidnapping, and especially the use of drugs—apparently your father didn’t tell him—but he was afraid too. You don’t betray an organization like Themis lightly . . . and to be fair, I suppose he was worried about putting me in danger if he told me their secrets. But the Knights had already used me, drugged me, even when I knew nothing; and I suppose that convinced him that I’d be safer knowing what was going on than staying in the dark. So he started to tell me a little during the flight; and by the time we were landing, I’d managed to get it all out of him, or the important bits anyway—but by then there was no way I could get in touch with you. My dad’s a member of the Knights, of course. Your father and he have been in the organization for years. They joined at the same time, but your father has a higher rank now. My dad never agreed with your father’s plan about Death Flu, and my kidnapping was the last straw. He wanted to confront your father about that, but at the same time he wanted to prepare me in case things got really nasty. When I heard what was going on, I was terrified that you might be in danger.”

Em suddenly realized to his horror that she was close to tears. He wondered if he should hug her or something to comfort her. He reached out and touched one shoulder awkwardly. “It’s okay,” he muttered, even though he didn’t know what
it
was or whether it was really okay.

“Who were the men who were following you?” Charlotte asked him. “My dad said they weren’t from the Knights.”

“Victor claimed they were,” Em said, “but then they turned out to be from Section 7.” He hesitated. “It’s terribly complicated.”

“Did your father tell you that?”

“That it’s terribly complicated? No, I worked it out for myself.”

Charlotte shook her head vigorously, in no mood for jokes. “About Section 7.”

“Yes,” Em said. “Yes, he did. Victor’s actually the head of it.”

“What about the vaccination plot?”

“That’s all fiction—it was just a scam to bring Victor out into the open. They faked it like—” He’d been about to say “Like my father’s death” but felt embarrassed for some reason. He wondered why Charlotte had insisted on their talking among the trees. Even if there
were
microphones all over the place—and he’d already seen how tight security was in the Bederbeck Foundation, so that was possible—they were
friendly
microphones. Besides, they weren’t talking about anything they shouldn’t. “They faked it,” he concluded.

Charlotte was still facing him, looking up soberly into his face.

“Your father lied to you,” she told him urgently. “The vaccine’s not a scam! They really are going to kill millions of children.”

Chapter 45

E
m stared at her. He knew the vaccine story was fiction, of course, but the sheer intensity of her words still managed to chill him. One look at her expression told him that she believed what she said, and believed it implicitly. “What makes you think that?” he asked carefully. All the same, careful or not, it came out more coolly than he’d intended. His father had told him the story was pure make-believe.
Your father lied to you.
Charlotte’s words echoed in his mind.

Charlotte sounded equally careful, but not nearly so cool, and her first words sounded as if she’d just read his mind. “I know your father told you the vaccine plot was just a story. My father told me something very different.”

“Yes, but Tom might have misunderstood—right? I mean, he could be wrong about the plan. Or maybe he wasn’t telling you the truth.”
Of course
he was telling her the truth. Why wouldn’t he tell his daughter the truth.

“You don’t want to believe me, do you?” she said. He thought he heard resignation in her voice but decided at once it was actually determination. Charlotte looked around her as if watching for anyone who might be creeping up on them. “Listen,” she said. “I’m nervous standing here.” She reached out and took his hand. “Let’s walk for a bit.”

They began to walk together, a slow walk that circled the edge of the grounds. Looking one way Em could catch glimpses of his new home through the screening trees. Looking the other, he could see the sweep of the Bederbeck Foundation: a little town in the desert. “Can we still talk?” he asked her.

Charlotte nodded. “There are cameras along the perimeter, but no mikes.”

“How do you know all this stuff about the security systems?” Em asked her. “I suppose Tom told you. But how does
he
know all this stuff? You’ve only just got here.”

Charlotte glanced at him. “He’s been here before,” she said dismissively, then added, “I’ve been worried sick about you since Daddy told me what was really going on.”

Em liked the “worried sick” bit. “What exactly did he tell you?” If he found that out, he might discover why she was so certain of the vaccination story.

“I
told
you!” Charlotte exclaimed almost angrily. “About the Knights and him being a member and your father being the big cheese and all that sort of background stuff, but the important—”

“My father being the
what
?” Em exclaimed.

“Didn’t you know? You must have known. What do you think all this is about?” She waved one hand vaguely toward the house with its pool glinting in the sunlight. “Even the president of the Bederbeck Foundation doesn’t have a place like this, and it’s only for your father’s use when he
visits.
They keep it for him specially.” She looked into his face as if searching for evidence that he might be kidding with her. “They pretend it’s because he’s chairman of the board, but it’s actually because he’s Grand Master of Themis.”

“Aren’t there lots of them? Grand Masters, I mean?”

“There
are
lots of them, or not
lots
lots, I suppose; but at least one in every country where the Knights operate. But your father is the Grand Masters’ Grand Master. He runs the whole show.”

Em stared at her openmouthed. How could his father have kept
that
hidden?

“He’s a very clever man,” Charlotte said as if reading his thoughts. “How do you think the Knights operate? It’s all secret, secret, secret. I suppose you could call his job in the university a front, but it’s not like that really. It’s more like being in the Masons, only far more secret. It’s having two lives. In one life you’re a professor, and you live like a university professor, and you really
are
a university professor. In the other life you’re a member of the Knights, and you work to bring forward Themis plans. But you don’t tell your family or anybody else about the Themis life. You don’t tell your wife or your son . . .” She scowled a little. “. . . or your daughter. One of the reasons Mum divorced Dad was that he was away so much on Knights of Themis business. She didn’t know about the Knights, of course. She thought he was having an affair.”

Em seized on it. “But they
have
told us,” he protested. “Tom’s told you, and Dad told me, and Mum knows now, so he must have told her.” That was the really weird one. Tell Mum something, give her a drink, and it was like putting it on the BBC. Maybe that’s why Dad was in such a hurry to fly her to Bederbeck, where he could keep an eye on her.

“That’s because everything’s about to change!” Charlotte said excitedly. “The big Themis plan is scheduled to go into action. Once that happens, they’ll all come out in the open—all the Knights—and they’ll start to take over.”

Em wasn’t getting his head around this at all. He frowned. “You’re not still talking about this business with the vaccination program, are you? Honestly, it was only a story to—”

“Of course I’m still talking about the vaccination business!” Charlotte snapped. “But that’s only the start. Once they kill off the children, they plan to spread the plague farther, across certain ethnic groups using another genetically engineered virus. Then they leak misinformation about who started the plague so there are more wars—not a world war, but a whole series of nasty ethnic wars: Muslim against Jew, black against white. . . . It doesn’t matter who you are; there’s always somebody who’s the enemy.”

Em shook his head. “That makes no sense. That would just be chaos!”

Charlotte rounded on him. “Chaos is what the Knights want. So they can step in and take over. That’s why they’ve started to come out of hiding. I’m not saying they’re going to announce their existence on the television news tomorrow; but they’ll happily allow controlled leaks so the public gets used to the idea that there’s a powerful, well-organized, well-disciplined elite waiting in the wings. Just the sort of organization people would turn to in a time of chaos. Once they’re ready to take over, what remains of the world population will welcome them with open arms.”

Em’s frown had deepened so much it seemed to be etched permanently onto his forehead. “This isn’t happening, Charlotte. It just isn’t
true
.”

Charlotte stopped walking and turned to look at him. He was astonished at the look of fury on her face. “Don’t patronize me, Em. Don’t you
dare
patronize me.” She shook her head. “You think it isn’t true? Why? Because your father told you so?”

“Yes!” Em exclaimed desperately.

“Your father is a liar. Everything he told you is a lie, or at best a half-truth. Do you know how I know this?”

After a moment Em said softly, “No.”

“Because my father is a liar too! He lied to Mum and me for years, just like your father lied to your mum and you for years. My dad only stopped lying when the Knights went too far and drugged me. Even then he was terrified. Em, these things don’t have to be
either . . . or
. What your father told you about using the vaccination plan to flush out Victor is probably true. It’s certainly what my father told me. Section 7 has been a thorn in the side of the Knights for years, and the man you call Victor is their agency head. He was getting very close to discovering your father’s identity as Knights Grand Master. A man like Victor would be a real loss to the Section if the Knights got him. Which they have now. But your father lied to you when he told you the vaccination plan was a fake. Every laboratory in the Bederbeck Foundation is working round the clock to manufacture the toxic vaccine.”

“You can’t be sure about that,” Em said desperately. Even if Charlotte was telling the truth, he didn’t want to hear it.

“Oh, yes, I can,” Charlotte told him. “What Dad told me was so awful I didn’t want to believe it either. And even though he said he disagreed with your father’s plan, I wasn’t happy that he’d done nothing about it. So after we landed and before we came out here, I went searching among his things.”

“You what?”

“Oh, don’t sound so shocked. You’d have done the same thing.”

“No I wouldn’t!”

“Yes, you would. So would anybody. Your father admits to being in a secret organization, then tells you he disagrees with its policies but didn’t do a thing about them? Of course you’d want to find out everything.”

“I suppose so,” Em said, even though he supposed nothing of the sort. But he wanted her to keep talking.

She must have picked up the hesitation in his voice, for she said crossly, “I didn’t find anything in his cases, if that’s what you’re worrying about. I didn’t find loot from his last armed robbery or corpses from some human sacrifice. Then I broke into his computer.”

“Oh my God!” Em exclaimed.

“Enough with the judgment face. Don’t you want to know how I did it?”

Em shook his head vigorously. “No.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what she’d found out either. But he was sure now that she
had
found out something. You could tell from her expression.

But Charlotte was determined to tell him anyway. “He had it password protected—the whole PC. I tried everything I could think of. Grandma’s maiden name . . . his birthday . . . his
dog’s
birthday . . . You’ll never guess what it was.”

Em didn’t want to guess. “What was it?” he asked woodenly.

“Mum’s first and middle names: Alice Marilyn. Who’d have thought it after she divorced him? Anyway, once I was into his computer, I found the emails.”

“The emails?” Em echoed.

“From your dad to my dad, except I didn’t know it was your dad then: they were just signed G.M. for Grand Master. Themis business. Dad had a whole folder of them. They were encrypted, but that was just for sending them across the internet. Dad had the encryption key; and since he didn’t want to go through the trouble of decrypting each one separately, he’d set his computer to decrypt them automatically. So I was able read them. Dad can be pretty stupid about things like that sometimes. Anyway, that’s when I found out you were being used as bait for this whole Section 7 thing. I couldn’t believe it when I read about the vaccination plan—”

Em made one last attempt: “The
fake
vaccination plan.” But it was as much as he could do to keep the question mark out of his voice.

“It’s not fake,” said Charlotte simply. “It wasn’t just in the emails about Section 7; the whole plan was outlined in other emails. It was one of the things that worried my dad so much. He was completely against it, but not completely enough to betray the Knights. He satisfied himself with protesting about it, and they happily ignored him.”

The perimeter fence meandered so much that they had almost lost sight of the house now. But they were still walking on well-watered lawn, well watered and well manicured—a token of how costly maintaining the temporary home of Em’s High Knight of Themis father was. After a long, thoughtful pause, Em shook his head. “You’re sure my father was involved?” It sounded stupid even as he said it. If he believed Charlotte, his father was the instigator of the entire plan. If he believed Charlotte, his father was a monster.

Charlotte caught on at once. “They’re going to kill millions and millions of young people like us, millions and millions of
children
even younger, with some ghastly, miserable disease,” she insisted. “You have to listen to what I’m telling you, Em!”

The edifice Em had been building in his head suddenly collapsed. His mind, as it sometimes did, was working at high speed, making connections, examining things said, recognizing his own weaknesses. He knew he’d often been in denial, stubbornly believed what he wanted to believe. The question was, had he gone into denial now? There were things she said that he knew to be true. Their fathers were liars. They had lied about their secret lives, lied about Em’s father’s death. Was it possible, as Charlotte claimed, that they were lying about the vaccination program as well? Em couldn’t believe it. Em
didn’t
believe it. All the same . . . “All right,” he said.

“All right
what
?” Charlotte demanded.

“All right, I hear you,” Em said. “I’m not sure of anything yet. But there’s somebody else who knows the truth, and I’m prepared to try to get it out of him.”

She looked at him almost suspiciously. “Who’s that?”

“Victor,” Em told her.