Déjà Vu: A Technothriller by Hocking, Ian (red scrolls of magic .TXT) 📕

of this complex was to investigate scientific ideas and applications deemed too radical for the academic environment. Such projects also had strong military ties. All were classified and still are. David remained at the research centre until 2003, when it was bombed by persons unknown. Suspects ranged from the Real IRA to remnants of the al-Qaida network. David was also under suspicion.”

“Why?”

“The bombers had inside information. The kind of information that David Proctor would have known. The centre of the blast was very close to David’s laboratory – he, and all other personnel, were at a musical recital when the bomb detonated. Additionally, in several memos, David spoke about concerns over the nature of his project.”

“Concerns?”

“About its application.”

“Would he have felt strong enough to destroy his own project like that?”

“It’s not clear. It counts in David’s defence that his wife was killed in the explosion. In the formal enquiry that followed, David was exonerated.”

“Tell me more about his wife.”

“Helen Cassidy. Born 1971. A research scientist. One child. Helen died May 14th 2003 from head injuries. No resources on this individual without another meta-analysis.”

“One child?”

“Just one. Jennifer Proctor, aged twenty. Born February 2003. Raised by her father following her mother’s death. A few years ago she was sent to a New York school for gifted children. Most information sources indicate that they were close before this happened, but they have since become estranged. There are no records of any communications in the past few months, except for one email last Sunday.”

“What was in that email?”

“You can get these details from the West Lothian and Borders police liaison office.”

“Where is Jennifer now?”

“There are no current records of her whereabouts. This is quite unusual. It is likely that she is involved with people who can conceal her identity from the US government.”

“Like who?”

“The US government.”

“Back to David. What are we chasing him for?”

“Police records indicate he is wanted for the murders of Caroline Saunders, a sergeant in the British army, and Dr Bruce Shimoda, a scientist. He is also wanted on several charges of terrorism. He is presumed dangerous.”

“Does he have access to a passport?”

“His accounts and credit cards have been frozen. His documents, both physical and electronic, have been confiscated.

His house in Oxford is occupied and under surveillance. Several of his close friends in Oxford are also under surveillance.”

“How did he escape?”

“Plucked from the ground by a glider while attending the funeral of a colleague.”

“Colleague?”

“Dr Bruce Shimoda. Proctor is charged with his murder. They worked together in the West Lothian Centre. Equal partners. Seventeen joint publications in scientific journals produced by the Ministry of Defence. All classified.”

“OK. I have enough of a feel for the man. I need to see the crime scene.”

“Do you feel that?”

“What?”

Jobanique leaned towards the camera. “The thrill of the chase.”

It was dawn when he awoke. His face, the only part not covered by the foil, was incredibly cold. His breath condensed in clouds. His legs were twisted and numb. His hands were tense balls of bone and sinew.

“And he’s alive,” David croaked.

At length, he struggled from the glider and collapsed upon the wet grass. The sky was overcast. It pressed on the hills. David managed to discern three or four farmhouses. Was he still in Scotland? How far had the glider taken him?

The closest house was about five miles away. Its owner probably owned the field as well. But more interesting was the wooden hut barely twenty metres away. It had been rotten luck to miss it the night before. The nose of the glider was pointed at its door. He pulled the space blanket closer around his shoulders and held it tight by his midriff.

His thoughts turned to the glider. Even though the day was overcast, it could be spotted easily. David had read about spy satellites with the ability to detect metal and other materials through cloud. He had to do something about it. He couldn’t fly away because a glider needed power to get it airborne, not to mention a runway and a pilot. Destroy it, then? No. The smoke would be seen for miles. He looked once more at the isolated farmhouses.

Clearly, he had problems. He walked over to the hut and gave it a summary stare. It was a wooden structure. Difficult to imagine its purpose. It was too small to store food. Perhaps it housed a snowmobile or a spare tractor, or engine parts. There was door on one side and a larger garage-like door at the front. The smaller door was padlocked but, interestingly, the padlock still held its key. A careless farm worker or an invitation to enter? He pulled off the padlock, held it as a weapon, and went inside.

“Hello?” he called. It was gloomy. There were a few tool-laden work benches. On one was a briefcase. To his right, the shed was partitioned by a hanging wall of sacking.

A loud beep came from one of the benches. He raised the padlock high. It was a laptop computer. Its screen flickered into life and displayed an impressionistic sketch of a woman’s face. It was an agent.

“Hello,” it replied.

“Hello,” he said. He put the padlock on the bench.

“Hello.”

“What do I do?”

The agent said, “Are you cold?”

“Freezing.”

“There is a flask of hot oxtail soup in the glider.”

“I had that last night.”

The agent nodded. Or, rather, its sketchy face bobbed up and down. “That explains why it has taken you so long to arrive. You should be aware that this significantly increases the probability of your apprehension.”

“Let’s get moving then.”

“Agreed. Under this computer is a pile of clothes. You may put them on. Please do not touch any of the other clothing in this storage shed.”

David threw off the space blanket and grabbed the clothes. They were all new. There were some expensive hiking boots, thermal underwear, jeans, T-shirt, over shirt, gloves, a heavy-duty sports jacket, scarf and woollen hat. “Why not take the other stuff?”

“It does not belong to you.”

He paused. “Oh.”

“Be sure to take your rucksack with you.”

He