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

implicated Bruce Shimoda. As you know, David – but perhaps the ladies do not – Bruce’s achievement was extraordinary. That tomb was sealed for more than a quarter of a century and its infrastructure was decaying. I didn’t believe Bruce could do it without help. In my business I develop a nose for these things. I suspected your hand in this, David. Therefore I arranged to have you sent to him under the guise of a summons from Colonel McWhirter.”

David shook his head. “In doing so you set this whole thing in motion.”

“There is an ancient saying: keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Within the research centre I had good, invasive surveillance. I had hoped that Colonel McWhirter could handle you. He could not.”

“The roof collapsed. He was killed.”

Hartfield gave David a sideways look. “You don’t have to excuse your actions to me. I have no interest in McWhirter’s wellbeing.”

“Or the law,” Saskia said. “Go on.”

“Perhaps I could have a glass of water?”

Saskia fired the gun. The cubicle door behind Hartfield shattered. David and Jennifer exchanged a glance. Hartfield straightened his tie. “I understand perfectly, Miss Brandt. As I was saying, David, I was unprepared for your second terrorist attack.”

“Bloody hell, how many times? There was no first attack. Not by me.”

Hartfield shrugged. He glanced briefly at Ego. “Your computer seems to think you are telling the truth. I, however, do not.”

“Tell me how you found the glider,” David said. He was conscious that time might be short. If security did arrive, Hartfield would have a difficult job in explaining things, but his word would overrule theirs. “Did you know where it was heading? Did you have a tip-off? Who were those people, the riders, who attacked me?”

“Attack is a rather dramatic word. Those men were some local thugs under the supervision of a Scottish agent I sometimes use. Routine satellite data led them to your location. They had orders to engage you and let you escape –” Saskia saw David’s expression sour – “under surveillance. They only did half the job.”

“And why did you let me escape?”

“I underestimated you once, David. At the inquiry that followed the first bombing. That was a mistake. Nobody takes me on and wins. Nobody.” Hartfield smiled again. “I wanted to collect enough information to put you through a trial. Garrel’s interrogation was fruitless.”

David nodded. “You seem rather confident, considering there is a gun in your face. By the way, my personal assistant, Ego, is tireless with its observation, aren’t you, Ego?”

“Yes, David,” Ego replied. “Everything is being recorded.”

Hartfield let out a single, bark-like laugh. “Nothing matters now.”

“Now -” Saskia began.

“One last question,” David said, interrupting her with a finger. “Tell me about the soldier who was guarding the New World computer when I found Bruce. What was her role?”

“Nothing more than to collect information.”

David said nothing. He stared sadly at his shoes. Saskia wondered what he could see. She asked, “And now my part. You sent me after David as a back-up – to collect information.”

Hartfield said, “No. At that point, I merely wanted you to collect him. Then I realised how persuasive a man David could be, and how difficult it had been to fully control your behaviour. I decided to end the matter by sending Frank. If he found you here, then my suspicions would be confirmed because only David could lead you to his daughter. If he had not found you, then David would be in your custody and on the way back to England. And once David and I were reunited…well, I had resolved to interrogate him personally. I would do a better job than that idiot Garrel. Any man will talk if you know his weakness, his soft spot.”

Jennifer raised her hand. It was an oddly student-like gesture. “I have a question. Why are you here?”

Hartfield nodded. “The most important question. You remember, Jennifer, that I was a young man when cancer struck me down. I offered my fortune to any person who could cure me.

The one who came forward was Fernando Orza. His treatment involved an invasion nanobots – robots smaller than blood cells – that could seek out and destroy cancer cells. I was cured. That, in sum, is the official version of the story. In the unofficial version, the nanobots killed not only cancerous cells but particular types of healthy ones too. I was left with a severe mental handicap from which it took me years to recover. I received a number of treatments, including embryonic stem-cell injections directly into the brain. We went through kilos of foetal tissue. Expensive stuff. Finally, the doctors told me that I had been left with a permanent condition. A rather heady combination of Asperger’s Syndrome – a mild form of autism – and psychopathy.

“Orza’s nano-treatment became public after 2010 or so. But that day in 1999, when I received the test results, I turned my energies towards investment in radical technologies. New World, for example, was designed – although you did not understand until later, David – to unlock the secrets of genes, using the kind of experimental approach only previously possible with creatures like fruit flies. Another example is your time travel programme, Jennifer. Not one single project was given the green light unless I thought it might take me one step further towards my treatment.

“That is why I am here now. I have with me the specifications of the correct nano-treatment. I have studied the operation of the time machine and cleared the area of personnel. I will return to the year 1999 and give Orza the correct nanobot specifications. I will be cured and my future will change. So however much you think you have gained by my confession, it will not help you. The world of 2023, this version anyway, can go to Hell.”

The arrogance of this man finally wrote an emotion on his face. Hope. He had reached a climax. Something bad (something wicked) was imminent. Should she shoot? His expression