Hardenbrooke's face was pale. 'You're nuts, do you know that?' he said quietly. 'Any military advantage-'
'I know what you want,' Kendrick interrupted, his thoughts rapidly becoming clearer.
They both swivelled to stare at him, as if he were a corpse suddenly returned to life.
'With zero-point energy, you could win a war against anyone. Somehow, you think I can get you on board where everyone else has failed, don't you?'
Helen's expression remained mask-like. 'Can you?'
'I don't know,' Kendrick replied. He listened, helpless, as the truth spilled out of his own mouth. 'No more so than any of the rest. But whatever's up there, it hates me. It doesn't want me there.'
Kendrick found that he couldn't stop blinking. A dawning sense of horror began to awaken within him, as if he were emerging from a deep, restful sleep only to find everyone he had ever cared about torn limb from limb and lying in front of him.
'It's wearing off,' said Hardenbrooke. 'But pumping any more into him isn't going to work.'
Another soldier entered the cell, looking harassed. Helen glared at him. 'This had better be good, whatever it is.'
'It looks like the enemy know we're here. The perimeter defence just brought down a robot recon, but we're almost certain it transmitted our location first. Command says we're to pull out early – launch ahead of schedule.'
Helen cast a worried glance in Kendrick's direction.
Launch what? he wondered.
The soldier left in a hurry.
'Well, haven't you been a complete waste of time,' Helen muttered at Hardenbrooke. 'All this trouble and it looks like your friend here can't tell us a damn thing after all.'
Hardenbrooke looked as though he was about to explode with rage, having undoubtedly promised that a gold mine of information would spill from Kendrick's lips. He stepped quickly towards Helen and grabbed her shoulder. She spun, staring at him unbelievingly.
Kendrick witnessed all this, including the way that Helen shook her head almost imperceptibly over Hardenbrooke's shoulder at the guard, who had begun to step forward. The soldier stopped, but lowered his rifle to hold it levelled at Hardenbrooke at waist level.
'There was an agreement.' Hardenbrooke's face flushed red, which made his scars all the more ugly. 'We need the rest of the information from him, about what Draeger is planning-'
'Shut up. You've been worse than fucking useless.'
'No, I've had enough of this demented nonsense. I-'
Kendrick watched Helen's hand slip down to the holster clipped to her belt. The motion of her delicate fingers on the gun was smooth and practised, and he found himself admiring the way the pistol slid gracefully into her grip. Raising it only slightly, she shot Hardenbrooke in the stomach at point-blank range.
He went down like the proverbial sack of potatoes. Helen stared down dismissively at his crumpled body. Then her finger tightened again on the trigger, and a few more shots hammered into Hardenbrooke's supine form.
'Helen,' Kendrick croaked, his throat still immobile-feeling.
Her breathing slowed. She closed her eyes for a moment before looking at him.
'My name's Leigh,' she said.
'Leigh? That's good.' A bitter chuckle fell from Kendrick's lips. He felt as though he'd been raped. 'Because you're a lousy lay, Leigh,' he told her. 'Even if you do fuck for Jesus.'
He wondered if she would shoot him too now, but there was still enough of the drug remaining in his system for him to find it surprisingly difficult to care. Instead, somewhat to his surprise, Leigh/Helen stepped forward and backhanded him across the face – so hard that at first he thought she'd dislocated his jaw.
It came to Kendrick, even through the haze of pain, that he was only still alive because she hadn't entirely convinced herself that he would be of no further use to them. He watched as they exited the cell, securely locking it behind them, the guard dragging Hardenbrooke's corpse along with them.
Time passed.
Kendrick was unable to sleep, so he pulled himself off his narrow bunk and slumped with his back against the cell bars, watching the stars wheel beyond his one tiny window. He thought about what the soldier had said earlier: The enemy knows we're here.
The question was – who was the enemy?
If he was still somewhere in America, then he had to be in one of the breakaway republics that had favoured Los Muertos. Otherwise, how would they have the run of this entire military base? Perhaps, then, a neighbouring republic knew Los Muertos were here, and were launching an attack?
Eventually Kendrick fell asleep despite the stink of Hardenbrooke's blood coagulating in one corner of the cell. He did not dream.
He woke some hours later to find a databand lying on the cell floor in front of him. It was the kind that was found in shops that sold cheap plastic jewellery. Moonlight streaked the floor where it lay.
Kendrick picked it up, studying its pale blue plastic shell. The tiny fingernail-sized screen was currently grey and inactive. He wondered where on Earth it could have come from.
Then a pale blue light appeared on the screen, and he almost dropped it in his surprise. He glanced through the cell bars to the glow of light visible down the other end of the corridor, where someone was on night duty. Surely nobody could have got past the guards there and deposited the bracelet without even waking him?
'It's me, Peter McCowan.' The voice emerged tinny and distorted from the bracelet's tiny speaker.
'Peter?' Kendrick lifted the bracelet closer to his mouth, keeping his voice to a low whisper.
'It's a lot easier to get in touch with you this way, don't need so many visuals. But in the meantime you need to get out of that cell.'
'Really? Do you think so?'
'Kendrick-'
'Look, there's planes landing and taking off from here all the time. I'm locked in a cell, and I don't have a fucking clue what's going on.' At least with the constant roar of the aircraft landing or taking off outside there was less chance of anyone hearing him speak.
A long sigh from the bracelet's speaker. 'Kendrick, nobody's going to get you out but you. But that's going to mean some cooperation.'
'Cooperation?' Kendrick studied the bracelet in his hand. 'What are you talking about?'
'I can get you out of there, but I need you to do something in return.'
'Tell me.'
'You need to get yourself to the Maze. If you just agree to do that, I can help you find a way out of the cell.'
Several seconds passed as Kendrick closed his eyes, then opened them again to find the bracelet was still there and he was still in his cell. 'I know, you asked me before, but I just can't do it,' he replied. 'Besides, it's-'
'Off-limits? God, there's a war on, in case you hadn't noticed. Los Muertos have enough on their hands to distract them. I need you to get here, Ken.'
'Peter, where precisely are you? Are you telling me that's where you are – down there?'
'Just tell me you'll do it.'
A roar filled the cell as another plane took off. 'You need to tell me more. You need to tell me what it is that's so fucking special about me that every lunatic with a gun and a grudge is now chasing after me.'
'Look, I already told you that: out of all of us who are still alive, you're the one closest to the Bright in terms of the way your augmentations developed. If Draeger is so interested in you, it can only be because you represent the highest achievement of Sieracki's research programme.'
'Peter-?'
'Ken, understand this. The Bright are hammering at you with everything they've got. You have no concept of the energy resources available to them, but I'll bet Draeger has an idea, and, thanks to Hardenbrooke, Los Muertos
