Return to Wardate (8 page)

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Authors: Bill Cornwell

Tags: #android, #super powers, #seductive, #war and peace, #femme fetale

BOOK: Return to Wardate
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Madeline told
Adam everything: About the mysterious man’s name, Mark Titoo, who
naturally he had heard of, about the ultrasound - tinnitus signal,
about the fifteen bullet holes in her clothes and about running
four miles in five minutes. Eventually after four pints of Guinness
and one untouched red wine she told him about the double room she
had booked. Fortunately by now, the effects had worn off. No one in
the inn was gawping, stalking or ogling anymore and Adam had
reverted back to his old care free, chilled out self.

The next
morning Adam was pretty much worn out by Madeline’s insatiable
appetite for rumpy pumpy and required a large full English
breakfast to aid recovery. She decided to stay in the room where
there was a handy thirteen amp socket whilst Adam gorged on his
bacon, eggs, tomato, beans, sausage and hash browns. Sometimes
passionate sex is good to get the brain motivated. She checked that
the green light was on her little jamming device and then rubbed
her thumb and forefinger together in a particular way. She typed in
Hogarth hospital and then residents of Ward 8, there it was, the
list of names she had glanced at on Gogli’s computer screen. Top of
the list was Aaron Alexander, the one who was responsible for
poaching her like an egg in a saucepan. Now it was a simple matter
of cross matching this list with the employees at Capesdown Hall
and possibly finding a mole. She accepted that this was a long
shot, perhaps the insider wasn’t a resident of Wardate - perhaps
there wasn’t an insider at all. Thankfully, Nuttall’s team had
repaired her big toe, she hinged open the end of it and inserted a
memory stick.

 

The jamming
device was turning out to be essential and more on than off. Apart
from hiding data bases from prying eyes it had other uses.
Naturally it was on whilst they were making love, whilst she was
naked, whilst Adam was naked and when she had something for Adam’s
ears only. Now she needed it off, she had to speak to Nuttall.

‘Nuttall, can
you hear me? I sending Adam to Capesdown, he has something I want
you to check out.’

Several seconds
passed before Nuttall replied.

‘Shall I send
the helicopter?’

‘Why not, then
I can use his car!’

 

Finally
Madeline was back in the Volvo. She simply loved Adam’s car. Many
things, good and bad had happened on the soft leather seats. It was
sort of home from home; it had character but above all it was
dependable. She needed to visit someone – the cleverest person she
knew, cleverer than all the P.A.I.D. scientists put together (the
scientists who built Madeline Bull). His address was top secret so
it was easy to find on a top secret data base.

 

Adam had never
been in a helicopter before. He couldn’t entirely absorb the moment
because he had a serious job to do. He knew the information
contained on the memory stick he carried, was highly confidential.
Only Nuttall was to see the contents and even then, only viewed in
his ‘V’ room. He was well aware that helping his girlfriend was
nearly always hazardous and there was always a possibility that he
would end up with one, possibly two bullets somewhere in his body.
Within a couple of minutes, the sleek black Eurocopter was
descending onto the compact helipad at Capesdown Hall. No cock-ups
this time, he had to get this right. As usual, Pike met him on the
helipad.

‘I need to see
Nuttall urgently,’ yelled Adam over the noise of the engine, hair
whipping about in the wake of the rotors.

Perhaps he
shouldn’t have been so outspoken, perhaps he shouldn’t have drawn
as much attention to himself and perhaps he shouldn’t have been
wearing the dark sunglasses – it
was
raining. Pike delegated
one of the staff to take him to Nuttall. He soon found himself in a
small room in an isolated wing of Capesdown Hall behind a heavy
sound proofed unlocked door.

‘Why… does this
always happen to me!’ screamed Adam.

Chapter 14: A
drive to Digg

 

It was a long
drive but Madeline didn’t mind at all. The scenery was digitally
stunning, the Volvo purred along and the radio played Radio 2
softly. She had never heard of Digg but it was on a Scottish island
that she had heard of – The Isle of Sky and that’s where she was
heading. It was in this extremely isolated place that Sam Johnson,
a brand new name provided by the government protection scheme, now
resided. In accordance with the protection scheme, this new
identity remained highly classified, documented only on a top
secret data base which Madeline naturally had access to.

 

Professor
Braugenhau was a truly brilliant scientist but unfortunately
extreme genius can generate its own problems. It started well, the
Professor’s unique communication system had one dedicated use, to
connect Poppy Cock to Madeline Bull. The system’s special radio
waves had the ability to pass through matter, unhindered –
dispensing with costly, unreliable, communication satellites with
inconvenient signal delays. However, the system had one significant
limitation – it could only have one exclusive user. This was
perfectly fine until Raymond de Par, the biological extortionist,
extorted the same system to operate his world wide lethal devices.
The result was that Madeline’s connection with Poppy was disrupted
and vice versa. Madeline’s signal almost disrupted the lethal
devices narrowly avoiding a worldwide catastrophe.

De Par was the
first to extort the system from the Professor. Since then, numerous
parties throughout the world had designs on the system but
obviously this could not happen – it was already in use by a very
feisty android. Paul Brownsword signed the papers and the
protection scheme was initiated and so began the life of Sam
Johnson.

 

It was early
evening when Madeline entered the peaceful sparsely populated
village. No shops, garages or schools, just a handful of pastel
coloured houses scattered about the hillside gave this isolated
part of Scotland the right to call itself a village. It was
raining, naturally, but it was peaceful rain, pattering gently on
the roof of the Volvo. In some ways she was looking forwards to
meeting the person who had made her new self possible. True the
other four scientists had played their part but without the radio
link she couldn’t function. Was he old and jolly? Was he bald with
a long white unkempt beard? – No, that was Santa, she thought. She
knocked on the door.

What seemed
like a long time passed before the door finally opened. A scruffy
middle aged woman hovered in the entrance. The odours that were
surely there were no bother to Madeline – fortunately she had no
sense of smell but the filthy blouse and stained skirt danced out
at her.

‘Is Mr Johnson
in?’ asked Madeline. ‘Can I come in? I’m getting a bit wet out
here.’

‘No, piss off!’
said the scruffy, grumpy old woman.

‘Could you be
kind enough to tell him that it’s Madeline Bull.’

‘My God!’ the
old woman said.

Her eyes lit up
and a huge smile broke across hers face.

‘Come in, come
in. I have to be wary on my own out here.’

The interior of
the house was as expected, untidy but spacious and certainly cosy.
Not modern but kitted out with all the mod-cons – even a 50” plasma
television perched precariously on a much smaller cabinet. It was a
modestly sized room with the kitchen area at one end and what could
be classed as a lounge forming the rest of the living space. A
blazing log fire more than adequately warmed the room.

‘Sit down,
please sit down. I know you don’t have to, but please…’

Madeline dusted
some crumbs of a chair and sat down.

‘No point in
offering you a cup of tea but I’ve got a thirteen amp socket if
that’s any use.’

‘No, no thanks…
how… do you…’

‘You don’t know
how thrilled I am to see you. When they told me what my system
would be used for, I was delighted. And you’re so beautiful –
everything I imagined you would be.’

‘Your system?
But you’re a woman?’

‘Well I was
last time I checked. Now, you’re not bugged or tracked are
you?’

‘No, I’ve got
this jamming device.’

Madeline took
the little box out of her pocket and checked that the green light
was still glowing.

‘Barton’s with
us but he’s safe,’ said Madeline.

‘Professor
Barton? Well, well, how is the old codger?’


Tell her
I’m fine. Ask her, how’s the old frump?
’ replied Barton through
Madeline’s audio circuits.

‘He’s fine,
he’s asking how’s the old frump?’

Sam laughed
heartily but wisely didn’t give a reply.

‘He’s like my
dad, he looks after me,’ said Madeline proudly.

Samantha
Johnson formerly Professor Braugenhau was a truly lovely warm
caring person - Madeline Instantly bonded. She told the Professor
everything she could: How Poppy died and Madeline was born, her
adventures, her upgrades, all about Adam, all about Barton, about
her latest mission and then more about Adam. They talked for hours
and eventually moved onto the subject of Ray de Par.

‘I had two
sons. I wouldn’t - couldn’t cooperate with him so Jay my youngest
got a parcel.’

Madeline knew
instantly what she was leading to.

‘I’m so, so
sorry,’ said Madeline holding her hand.

‘Your hand,
it’s warm and soft… and perfect,’ said the professor trying her
best to change the subject but she knew she had to finish.

‘I had no
choice, I couldn’t loose Danny, my eldest.’

‘No, no, anyone
would have done the same,’ reassured Madeline.

‘Anyway, my
lovely Madeline, you sorted him out, you did good.’

The odd tear
was now flowing down the professor’s face washing off some of the
designer dirt.

‘So I assume
you’re here for a reason, what do you want to know?’ asked the
Professor.

‘True, I have
come to pick your brains but all the same, I did want to meet you.
Have you heard the name, Mark Titoo?’

‘Of course I
have, he’s… he’s the…’

‘I thought if
anyone knew him, it would be you but you don’t know him, do
you?’

‘I’m really
sorry,’ said the Professor.

‘Oh… don’t
apologise, apparently no one knows who he is but everybody has
heard of him. Apparently there’s an ultrasound signal that’s
constantly being transmitted from somewhere and it’s brainwashing
all of us. You don’t know of anyone who was developing, researching
anything similar to that in your line of work… thought control,
whatever you would call it?’

‘It was back in
the naughty 90’s at Cambridge. There was a group of us specialising
in radio communication and electronics. We were trying to find a
new unique way of communication. That’s a photo of us behind
you.’

Madeline picked
up the photo frame - a group of six happy men and women posed.
Professor Braugenhau could clearly be recognised third from the
left. She was definitely a woman, pretty, well dressed and not a
hint of grime on her face.

‘At that time,
they
were worried that all the electromagnetic spectrum
would be shortly used up with radio and television transmissions
leaving no spare space for vital services… they wanted the
impossible. They wanted us to find a new… spectrum I suppose. As
usual, a little bit of knowledge is a dangerous thing especially if
you’re a narrow minded minister. However we did come up with quiet
a few ideas as you probably now realise.’

‘Do you know
the names of you group?’

‘Now you’re
asking, we all tended to call each other by nick names. Faggy,
Carpy… oh yes, Coco. I was called Eyebrow – for obvious
reasons.’

Madeline stored
the picture in her internal gallery files.

‘Was anyone
dabbling in… I don’t know… something like a biological spectrum?’
asked Madeline trying to be intelligent.

‘An interesting
notion. I don’t really know, almost everything was considered –
bioelectronics, neutrinos, gravity waves and yes, even ultrasound
but I can’t remember who was concentrating on what, we tended not
to pry on one another’s work,’ said the Professor.

Madeline
listened intently to the friendly old lady but a flashing light in
the corner of her vision distracted her. It was her jamming device,
the indicator was no longer green but flashing red – the battery
was almost flat which probably meant the device wasn’t working.
Exactly how long this had been the case, she wasn’t sure. The
battery was quickly replaced for a fresh one but it was too late,
the level of tinnitus built up in her head until it was no longer
subliminal.

‘I’m so sorry…
Hold my hand tightly - don’t let my thumb and forefinger touch. If
you want to live, don’t let me go no matter what,’ said Madeline
sternly.

The Professor
did as she was told, she provided a powerful grip.

‘Why, what’s
happening?’

‘I believe you
are about to experience the effects of the ultrasound.’

‘Strange, I
feel suddenly depressed - a horrible wave of despair.’

‘So you should
you obnoxious, foul evil smelling bastard!’ scream Madeline.

‘What’s going
on?’ cried the Professor.

‘Let go of my
hand, the world is better off with out your sort,’ snarled
Madeline.

The grip
tightened. Madeline with explosive motion turned off, had the
strength of at least one man but the power of the Professor’s grip
was enhanced with fear and adrenalin.

‘How surreal,
the feeling is a flood of negative emotion. I want you end my
life,’ said the professor, analysing the situation.

‘Well let me do
it you evil hoar. The world will be better off without you. Let go
of my hand,’ growled Madeline.

‘No I won’t!’
said the professor resolutely.

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