‘Gemma, how do I get connected to the operations centre?’ she said over her shoulder. ‘I don’t have a speed dial.’
A rustle of silk bedclothes being tossed aside in the bedroom was followed by bare feet padding towards her. Ormandy tilted her head, feeling the PA’s warm breath on her neck as she leaned over her shoulder.
‘Like this,’ Gemma said, running her long fingers across the virtual keyboard. ‘There you go,’ she added, kissing the Home Secretary lightly on the neck.
‘Thanks,’ Ormandy said, stroking her assistant’s forearm. ‘You better get dressed.’ She drummed her fingers on the desktop as she waited for the comms to connect. Major Nathan Helix VC DSO. How dare he tell her to stay out of his way?
‘Good morning, Captain,’ she said as the call was answered. She steepled her fingers. ‘What can you tell me?’
‘I wish I had better news, ma’am.’ The Captain cleared his throat. ‘We’re no further forward in discovering the whereabouts of Ethan Helix. There’s been no activity with his login credentials since the explosion at the—’
‘His official credentials, Captain.’
‘Yes, ma’am, but if he has any other accounts we’re not in possession of the details.’ He straightened his tie. ‘He, how shall I put—’
‘I know.’ She held her hand up. ‘He wrote the manual. I’m growing tired of hearing about that particular legend.’ She sighed. ‘I’ve just spoken to his brother. What I don’t have is his location.’
The Captain straightened a little. ‘Slightly better news there, Home Secretary. As of around ten minutes ago, he was on the Embankment, close to the Houses of Parliament—’
‘I sense a but coming, Captain.’
‘He got in a taxi with a young woman and we—’
‘Lost them?’ she said, raising her eyebrows. ‘Dawkins,’ she added. ‘The woman’s name is Dawkins. Apparently assigned by General Yawlander, on secondment from G squadron.’
‘Dawkins?’ the Captain repeated. ‘I’ll check, ma’am, but I don’t recall anyone of that name being—’
‘Here’s another name for you, Captain. Finch. Does that one ring any bells?’ The fingers of her right hand joined in the drumming.
‘Finch.’ The darting of his eyes said what his voice didn’t. ‘He’s, erm—’
‘So, that is a name you’re familiar with.’ She stopped drumming and leaned closer to the screen. ‘You can tell me, Captain, I have all the necessary security clearances.’
The officer straightened his tie again. ‘Finch is currently dark, or meant to be.’
‘Not dark enough it would seem,’ she said. ‘According to Major Helix, he was also on the embankment, not so long ago. Helix seemed to think I’d sent him.’
‘I’ll reach out to him, Home Secretary. I’m sure there’s an explanation.’
‘It would be nice to have an explanation for something, Captain.’ Ormandy nodded in mock approval. ‘You can add him to the list of people of whom you have no idea about their whereabouts.’ She dismissed the call.
Documents and data feeds shimmered over her desk, amongst them Helix and Ethan’s personal files. They’d revealed nothing of any use apart from reiterating that Nathan Helix’s attitude towards those in authority, particularly politicians, had been an area of concern during his evaluations. Concerns that Yawlander had dismissed. Leaning forward she swiped files aside, looking for the letter that Gabrielle Stepper had written to Helix in the aftermath of Justin Wheeler’s denouncement. She read it again, rekindling the same nauseating fear that she’d experienced as she’d watched from the back of the stage as Helix and his cohorts destroyed Wheeler’s career, piece by piece. But arrogance had assuaged the anxiety. All they had was a minor scandal. An affair between two high profile politicians, one of whom was the husband of a simpering celebrity scientist. Ormandy missed the sex. There had been others before Justin and there were others now.
She glanced up at the real-time video feed of her daughter surround by study texts as she sat cross-legged on the library floor. Outside of politics, Christina was the only permanent fixture in her life, her only connection to what some would call normality. The spat that Helix had witnessed was one of many. In time her daughter would grow and mature and take her place beside her mother and the ruling elite. Gaia willing.
Helix wasn’t as invisible as he might think. He’d stepped into the light before. People remembered a face. It was time for another trip into the media spotlight. She tapped the desktop again. Yes. The Broken Broadcasting Corporation. Something else she needed to fix, but it had its uses. She scrolled through her directory, selected the number for the Director General and hit dial.
13
44 Hours
The shadowy mass of England in November 2039, if observed from space, would have looked much as it had for thousands of years. Still conjoined, topographically, if not politically to Scotland and Wales, with the reunified island of Ireland to the west. The galaxies of light mapping the presence of humanity had burned bright for the first few months of the pandemic. But then, building by building, street by street, community by community they had faded out.
The surviving population migrated, leaving behind what became the cardinal cities, London in the south, Bristol in the west, Liverpool in the north and Hull in the east. Humanity no longer had a presence in space. The last crew of the International Space Station elected to live out their final days onboard before, one by one donning a space suit and taking a final spacewalk. If there was anyone left to observe from that lofty perch all they would have seen would be four clusters of light, each delineated by a brighter outer ring.
The two-mile-wide outer ring of London stretched inwards from the former M25 motorway. The ring was a self-sustaining fortress constructed of glass, steel and photovoltaic panels. Inside, swarms of smart agribots managed the production, harvest and distribution of all plant food and laboratory grown animal protein. Road and pedestrian access to and from the city was via
