“While we’re on this trip, I might have to disappear for a bit. So if there’s any roll call, could you answer when you hear my name?”
Tom frowned. He spoke quietly so his voice wouldn’t carry above the sound of the engine. “The last time you asked me to cover for you, we were in Venice,” he said. “You’re not doing that stuff again, are you?”
Alex nodded gloomily. He wasn’t going to lie to his best friend.
“But I thought you’d finished with all that.”
“Yeah. Me too. But it didn’t quite work out that way.” Alex sighed. “It’s not anything dangerous, Tom.
And it shouldn’t take very long. I just don’t want anyone to notice I’m missing.”
“Okay. Don’t get yourself killed.”
They had been following a series of minor roads through swathes of green countryside that stretched to every horizon. This wasn’t the England of pretty fields and hedgerows. There was something ancient and untamed about Salisbury Plain. It seemed to be completely deserted, with nothing—no buildings, no fences, no power lines, no people—for as far as the eye could see. There were a few clumps of trees huddled together on the hillsides, boulders and bits of debris thrown carelessly around. The wind was rippling through the grass, making strange patterns, like silent music chasing ahead of them as they rumbled slowly toward the top of a hill.
“Here it is,” James said.
He was right. The Greenfields research facility had suddenly appeared in front of them, concealed in a miniature valley. It was somehow shocking after so much emptiness, like a glass-and-steel city, or perhaps a prison, or even a colony on another planet. It certainly looked completely alien here, in the middle of Wiltshire. The complex was shaped like a diamond, completely surrounded by a fence with links so tightly meshed that it was almost like a metal wall, glinting in the sun. A single sliding gate, heavily guarded, stood at the end of the tarmac road. At least the guards didn’t seem to be armed—but they looked threatening enough, even without weapons.
“What is this place?” James muttered, staring out the window. “It seems like a lot of fuss for a bunch of vegetables.”
There were about twenty buildings on the other side of the fence. Many of them were indeed greenhouses, but they were enormous, taller and more solid than anything that might be found in any garden. The rest were either offices, warehouses, or factories, most of them low-rise but some of them five or six stories high, with radio antennas, satellite dishes, and tall silver chimneys built onto the roofs. To one side, Alex saw what might have been a welcome center, sleek and white. A second building right next to the gate was square and solid with a sign marked SECURITY. But his eye was drawn to the construction at the very center of the complex. It was a huge dome, like something out of a science-fiction film, filled with vegetation. He could make out the leaves of palm trees licking at the glass, twenty or thirty yards high. Vines and knotted foliage hung down on all sides. It was connected to other buildings by four glass corridors, radiating out like points on a compass. The Biosphere, Alex thought. He didn’t know where he had gotten the name from, but it seemed right.
Greenfields looked brand-new. There was a network of black tarmac roads separated by perfect rectangles of freshly mown grass. Or perhaps the grass had been genetically programmed to grow to exactly the right height. Silent electric vehicles were ferrying men and women from place to place.
Some of them—presumably the scientists—were wearing white coats. Others were in suits. The guards wore green camouflage jackets, as if to remind themselves that the environment was what this was supposed to be all about. And everywhere, on dozens of poles and on the sides of every building, sophisticated cameras and light sensors gazed down from every angle so that if a single wasp or bee had flown in, someone somewhere would have known.
There was a loud whine inside the bus as Mr. Gilbert turned on the intercom system. “Please don’t be alarmed by all the security,” he said. His voice, amplified and relayed through the speakers, didn’t sound very confident. “A lot of the work that they do here at Greenfields is sensitive. They have to protect themselves from competitors and from journalists and that sort of thing—and some of the plants they grow here have to be contained. I’m afraid we are all going to have to be searched as we go in—
but it shouldn’t take long. Please remember to leave all cameras and mobile phones inside the bus.
They’ll be perfectly safe here, and they won’t be allowed inside.” There were general groans and protests, but as they drew closer to the gate, everyone began to open their backpacks, doing as they were told. They’d been on school trips before, but they weren’t used to blank-faced guards and body searches. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Tom muttered, glancing at Alex. Alex didn’t reply. “
The bus slowed down and stopped. They had reached the gate, which slid open slowly to allow them into a holding area. Someone rapped on the door and the driver opened it to allow a thin, unsmiling woman to step inside. Mr. Gilbert stood up and held out a hand, but she ignored him.
“Good afternoon,” she said. Her voice was clipped and somehow artificial. She sounded like a speak-your-weight machine. “May I welcome you to Greenfields Bio Center. I am the supervisor here at Greenfields.” She paused, running her eyes over the passengers as if committing the faces to memory.
“My name is Dr. Myra Beckett, and I will be looking after you during your visit.” It was hard to say how old Beckett might be. She was a severe, very masculine woman in a white coat that hung loose from her shoulders and somehow defined her. There was so little emotion in her face that it was hard to imagine her doing anything that didn’t involve books, Bunsen burners, and bottles of chemicals. Her dark hair was cut short, with bangs that cut diagonally across her forehead, the last strands touching her left eye. She wore circular, gold-framed spectacles that looked cheap and didn’t flatter her. It was obvious that she didn’t care about her appearance. She had no makeup and no jewelry.
She made no effort to be polite.
“We have not had a visit from a school before,” she continued. “We will be showing you our laboratories, some of our cultivation centers, and finally, there will be a lecture on GM technology by one of our experts. Any photography or recording is forbidden. When you leave this bus, every one of you will be searched. This was agreed with your school when you were invited. All mobile telephones are to be left behind. You will follow me now, please.”
“What a charming woman,” Tom muttered.
“Yeah. I’m really glad we came,” James agreed.
The supervisor had climbed off. The two teachers and the rest of the Brookland crowd followed her into the square building that had been designed exactly like a security area in an airport. There were uniformed men standing behind silver tables, X-rays for hand luggage, and metal detectors that everyone would have to pass through. Alex
