do too. The Bright are like children who've figured out how to build a nuclear reactor and are using it to make phone calls. We're talking serious overkill. If it was up to Robert, you'd never know about any of this, but the Bright want you too much even for Robert to be able to do too much about it.'
'The woman interrogating me here thought I could somehow get Los Muertos on board the Archimedes.'
'With your particular affinity with the Bright, they figure they stand a better chance of boarding the station and staying alive there if they have you along with them. Also, Los Muertos knew that Draeger had you flown out to Cambodia – and they know everything about the programme of treatments that Hardenbrooke administered to you.'
'Right: so apart from wanting to haul me up there, Los Muertos also kidnapped me because I'm important to Draeger.'
'At last! Give the man a sticky bun! Took you fucking long enough to grasp that, didn't it? They all think you're special, and to a certain extent you are. But not, perhaps, so much as they think. Now, will you come to the Maze?'
Kendrick groaned. 'You haven't given me one good reason to.'
'If you do, I'll give you something you want very badly – something you've been seeking, for a long time.'
'What?'
'I can get you the proof of Draeger's direct involvement with the Labrat research programme. But before that you have to come here.'
'What if I say no?'
'But you won't, will you?'
'You're serious, aren't you? You can give me that kind of proof, Peter?'
The bracelet had fallen silent. Kendrick stared at it, knowing that it wasn't real. He dropped it on the concrete floor of the cell. It clattered as it landed, the plastic cheap and slightly scratched. He kicked at it gently and it slid a metre or two across the floor. It resolutely refused to disappear or evaporate.
Then, because he could think of nothing else to do, Kendrick turned his attention back to the lock. He caressed the smooth, machined steel box, thinking about McCowan's words.
Yes, damn you, I'll do it.
Suddenly, it was there: the electrons running through the lock's circuitry were like bees buzzing in a hive. Kendrick's hand tingled where he touched the surface of the lock and, although he couldn't feel it or even sense it in any way, he imagined information flowing through the nanotech augmentation that riddled his flesh, bio-aug programs analysing the interior of the lock, reaching out and distantly manipulating its complex innards.
Somehow, in some arcane way more like magic than science, McCowan was doing this – through Kendrick. He thought about a dead mind reaching out through his fingertips from buried lightless corridors – and shivered inwardly.
The box made a soft click-thunk sound and softly, very softly, the door swung towards him.
Kendrick stood, transfixed. Perhaps he'd done something wrong the last time and-
But it wasn't that. The lock had been designed to keep a Labrat imprisoned.
Get to the Maze, McCowan had said.
Could he really bring himself to go back there? Would it even be possible?
Perhaps it would, Kendrick thought. Perhaps there were even more miracles to be found there.
If he went – and if McCowan was telling the truth about Draeger.
Another aircraft took off, sounding as if it had barely skimmed the roof. Kendrick had to resist the urge to duck. Very softly, he stepped out into the corridor. He halted when he found that he'd stopped breathing, clutching at his chest in panic, wondering if his throat was blocked. Yet he didn't even feel out of breath, though the impulse to suck in air and breathe it out again appeared to have gone – at least for now.
Kendrick stepped back into the cell to try to deflect the subsequent wave of panic that threatened to swamp him. This wasn't like the last time, when he'd found himself on the Archimedes. This was real.
Very deliberately, he expanded his chest, drawing air into his lungs and then pushing it out again. He repeated this a few times until he felt nature take over: his lungs began moving without the need for conscious thought on his part.
His mind reeled. How long had this been going on? Seconds, minutes… more? What in Christ's name had his body been running on in the meantime?
What was happening to him?
Kendrick went back to the open cell door and glanced down the corridor. Ten metres or so away, he could see one edge of a desk and the side of a guard's head. There was a bend in the corridor there, which meant that whoever was currently minding the store didn't necessarily have a completely clear view down towards the cells – although it would take the guard only an instant's glance to see Kendrick peering out from his cell.
He moved soundlessly down the corridor, away from the guard. He reached a door after what seemed like an eternity. The guard hadn't so much as glanced up yet. Kendrick was amazed to find that the exit wasn't even locked. A glass panel at eye level allowed him to peer out at the dark shapes of nearby buildings looming beyond the jail. He reached down very gently to the metal lever of the door handle.
The lower edge of the door scraped noisily against the tiles under his feet and, glancing down, Kendrick saw that a shallow groove had been scraped away after many years of use. Just then, another plane thundered overhead. He glanced back to see the guard's head flick up, but the man was looking away from him. Kendrick watched as the guard nodded to someone who had just entered the jailhouse from the opposite end.
No time to waste. Kendrick pushed the door open wider, the air outside shaking with the sound of braking jet engines and screeching tyres. Taking advantage of the racket, he slipped out through the door and into the night.
Adrenalin surged through Kendrick's body, filling him with intense joy. He was out. The dark hulk of a military transport jet screamed overhead, so close that he felt he could almost reach up and touch it. But where now?
The whole complex was fenced off, as he'd noticed on his way in, which meant more guards to deal with. Unless he could steal transport there was no certain way to get back to civilization.
Kendrick stood against the wall, just beside the open door. He stole a glance back along the corridor and saw that his guard was now talking into a databand on his wrist. Kendrick's stomach lurched sickeningly as the head of a second soldier suddenly popped out of the open door of Kendrick's cell. Kendrick dodged back out of sight quickly.
He slipped along the side of the cell block, moving as fast as he could and taking advantage of the deep shadows there, ducking occasionally as a series of jeeps and trucks roared by, heading for the airfield where another huge cargo jet was approaching fast. Further away, Kendrick could see other trucks pulling up to a screeching halt before unloading dozens of uniformed men. Shouts came from somewhere close.
He ran towards an empty hangar a short distance away and watched from the shadows as the trucks returned the way they had come, kicking up great clouds of dust.
A klaxon sounded, strident and abrasive in the night air. Kendrick guessed it was for him. Uniformed men started heading towards the hangar he was lurking beside.
Time to get moving. He rounded a corner, trying to find a way towards the base perimeter. Then, through the gloom, he spied a fence several metres high.
But, when he saw what lay beyond it, Kendrick stumbled to a halt, gaping. He didn't know a great deal about spacecraft, but he knew enough to realize what a military orbital shuttle looked like.
There were three of them. Vast tarpaulins were being pulled off them to reveal their gleaming black carapaces. Kendrick stared at the smooth bulge of their fusion engines. He remembered seeing the huge rockets, still shrouded, earlier and wondering what they were.
Each one was mounted on an enormous movable platform that resembled a wide-bodied truck. Because of the much smaller size of these shuttles' engines – and because their fuel requirements for reaching orbit were modest by comparison – they were a lot more compact than the old-style versions that had been in use almost a century earlier. Like most modern spacecraft, they also lacked the external disposable boosters once necessary to get those earlier giants into orbit.
Kendrick also knew, from his research into Draeger's part in the development of the fusion technology that had made such craft possible, how these shuttles could be moved into position and deployed in just a few hours.
The night lit up like midday.
